#by like communicating about why that person felt overwhelmed and discussing a way to resolve it

[go-to-the-mirror]

guys is it mean to tell someone that you're going to take the bus instead of wait 15 minutes for them to show up (and probably get into an argument because you're tired and those two people together always fucking fight with you) [rhetorical]

[clownnotes-png]

CG! Diluc and Regressor! Albedo

Note: I haven’t met Albedo yet in genshin so I apologize if he’s out of character ! I just read up on him for this (he seems so silly)

Albedo was stressed beyond belief, he usually didn’t come down to Mondstadt because of all the people - usually only traveling down when few people would be around such as the evening or dead of night.

Yet today was different. He decided that for once he’d go down and meet with Sucrose and his other alchemical colleagues; they were all lovely friends to him and understood his reclusive reasons.

A few days prior while Sucrose was up running around with him on Dragonspine she had mentioned how there was going to be a small get together with all the local alchemist to discuss their progress and share insights.

How could he miss that!?

So now, Albedo is sitting at a corner booth in the winery, feeling as if all his nerves were on fire. Social interaction was probably worse than he remembers. What do people normally say? How do they correctly drink? Is there a wrong way to? How does it feel like Razor of all people understands humans more than he does.

Thoughts piled on top of each other leaving Albedo overwhelmed from his own mind - alchemy made sense. You simply had to place liquids and objects correctly together, follow a clear cut path, and you’ll get your desired response.

People are unpredictable. There’s intricacies upon intricacies that don’t add up and they’ll always misunderstand something. So he avoids people who he cannot predict.

“It’s been lovely, but I fear I must go. Sucrose, if something pops up I need to know do you mind passing along the message?” Albedo slid out of the booth as he spoke, carefully dusting off his clothes - people did that, right?

“Of course! I’ll see you on Dragonspine soon, okay?” Sucrose smiled, her smile was always so warm. It reminded albedo of the potions he mixes.

Diluc had watched from the bar, carefully drying the glasses he had washed. Normally he people watched to make sure drunken guests didn’t cause ruckus but today there was someone new.

Albedo was down off the snow covered mountain and shaking, the boy never shook even in the sheer cold, he was always perfectly bundled and near a fire yet here he seemed like a leaf. Something was off and Diluc had a bitter taste; he watches over his guests despite how little he knew of them.

“Take over the bar for me will ya?” Diluc tossed a towel over his shoulder and sat the keys down on the counter for his number two to take. “I got an issue to resolve.” With that Diluc was off, quickly following behind Albedo.

Mondstadt in the moment felt humongous to Albedo, the roads twist and turned leading for his head to pound and fog. He couldn’t remember which way led to the gates and at this point he was about to figure out how to scale the walls.

Albedo just wanted out. He wanted to tranquility of snow, fireplaces, and mitten covered hands. Those were all so comforting to Albedo, it felt like home - the only home he truly had.

Crumpling, Albedo grabbed his head trying to force the fog to clear so he could remember Mondstadt simple U-shape layout. “Hey, ‘Bedo is everything okay?” With caution Albedo looked up, trying to will his voice to speak to the person and confirm everything was totally fine.

Diluc. Albedo had heard of him a few times, he knew the man was kind but didn’t go out of his way to interact with people all that much. Were they the same? Both preferring isolation to the complexity of people.

That didn’t seem right as right now the red head was crouched in front of him, looking too comforting for someone who didn’t like people. Maybe the fog was the cause of this. Why was he so foggy?

“Diluc? Where’s..gates. Need t’a go home.” Albedos words were spaced out and slurred but he got the message across. Later he could question why he couldn’t seem to speak right, later he would overthink this communication block, right now he just needed tranquility.

“I don’t think I can let you go home buddy..you seem a little spacey and I’d rather not let us lose you to the cold.” Diluc held out his hand and did his best to force a small smile. He wasn’t the best at comfort, having always been around Adelinde who knew him and all his brash ways. Right now though, Diluc needed to be of comfort. He could tell what was going on in Albedos head, he’d gone through it himself so many times.

The first is always scary if you don’t know what’s happening.

Albedo carefully took Dilucs hand. Neither knew how things would go, neither were sure if everything would be okay but for now Albedo had Diluc to help him.

Diluc had carried Albedo back to the winery on his hip, at first the blonde had tried to walk by himself yet after nearly eating gravel a few times Diluc calmly explained how it it was simply too dangerous.

Now, both men were back at the winery and Diluc was left to fret over the boy (and his rash decision making). “Hey ‘Bedo, is there anything that will make you more comfortable here?” Diluc washed out a small cup with a lid, unsure of how old Albedo currently was - and if he was even fully regressed right now.

Speaking of, Albedo sat on the couch in the next room over lightly chewing on his thumb. The world had seemed to have gotten bigger in mere moments, at first he could have handled it but now since feeling so. Safe? Comfortable? What was the word - regardless, due to Diluc watching over him the world had expanded.

Suddenly Diluc was in front of Albedo, holding a lidded cup with a straw, “Hey buddy, let’s get a drink and stop chewing on that thumb okay?” Albedo hummed and reached out for the cup, gently holding on to it with both his hands. It was cold, something that comforted him and reminded Albedo of home.

Both boys worked in silence, albedo trying to make sense of everything while Diluc tore open a package and tugged out a matching pacifier and teether - he wasn’t sure which would be preferred .

When offered a choice between the two, Albedo seemed to contemplate before reaching out and carefully grabbing the pacifier. Almost as if there was a wrong choice.

“Oo, I enjoy those as well when I’m like you.” Diluc reached out and raked his fingers through Albedos hair, careful to not mess up the boys hairstyle. “Now, I’m gonna offer you three choices just hold up a finger for the first, and so on okay?”

Albedo nodded, his fingers intertwining and tugging on each other. Multiple choice, he enjoyed questions like those it was easy to rule out which was correct.

“Okay, which would you like to do. One: we can watch a show, two: I can read you a story, three: we can take a nap.” Diluc held up a finger with each one, helping Albedo keep track of which one was which.

The question was mulled over by the boy before he held up two fingers then added a third. “Re’ed then nap?” The words came out slightly muffled due to the pacifier but Diluc was able to deduce them.

“We can do that kiddo, cmon let’s go find a story.” Diluc crouched down, counting to three before he lifted Albedo into his arms. “Wanna play multiple choice for the story too kid?” With that both of them were off to the mini library that was was kept at the far end of the manor.

[peachsayshi]

Hi! Can you write down how jjk characters like Nanami Kento will be as a husband?

And how he treats when his wife is pregnant.

Love your writing btw!

HOW NANAMI KENTO IS AS A HUSBAND WITH A PREGNANT S/O

A/N: (requests are closed!) Thank you so much for you request, anon! I hope you like it! I am so sorry it took so long and that I wrote this out to also be long LOL I absolutely adore Domestic!Nanami and everything about him. He is the perfect husband. please note my experience with babies and pregnancy usually involves family members & friends with kids lol 

TAGS: (18+, minors DNI) Fluff and like...a pinch of smut and angst . 

JOY

Marrying you is by far the best decision that Nanami Kento has ever made. He wakes up every morning with the thought in his mind and goes to sleep with it whenever he kisses you goodnight. Your husband adores you in every way possible. Although, this has pretty much been the dynamics of your relationship - not much has changed except that you both decided to make it official for legal purposes. 

Nanami is head over heels in love with you but he doesn’t always show it. As your husband, he’s learned to lower his guard every now and then but you have also grown to understand him as a person.  As a matter of fact, you knew Kento better than anyone else, which is why you always got extremely defensive when people judged him for his cold and stoic personality. The man had so much good in his heart it almost overwhelmed you, and he always expressed it through his actions instead of words.

As your husband, Nanami is very attentive to your needs. He tries his best to be there for you in any way he can, celebrating your successes and holding you tight when things don’t go the right way. He hated arguing and liked to resolve things with communication and open dialogue. He is also incredibly funny and his sarcastic humor has left you bursting in fits of giggles time and time again.

You always felt special because you got to see him smile so often, and whenever he flashed you that killer grin, it took your breath away every single time.

The two of you spent most of your time together at home during the weekdays after work, but on the weekends Nanami likes to whisk you away for little dates. Sometimes he takes you to a bakery or casual walks in the park...it honestly didn’t matter to him as long as you both were together. 

One evening, the two of you came home stumbling through the door in a lust filled daze. Nanami had just taken you out to an extremely fancy fine dining restaurant, where you both could barely stop flirting and touching one another. He rarely showed affection in public but sometimes he couldn’t help but spoil his unbelievably gorgeous wife.

Kissing your husband was like getting caught in a whirlpool. One minute you felt safe with his gentle pace and the next you were drowning. He inhaled every moan and whimper of your desire for him as he picked you up with those muscular arms and carried you to your shared bedroom. 

Nanami fully enjoyed taking control of the entire experience when you both had sex. After he worked your desperate cunt with those calloused hands and expert tongue, he had your naked body pressed into the bed as he finally entered you. He fucked you through orgasm after orgasm, until he finally released himself inside you. 

You weren’t surprised when the strip turned pink after you missed your period, but you wanted to be one hundred percent sure before you told your husband. The two of you discussed having kids all the time and Nanami really wanted to be a father but was hesitant due to his profession.

You broke the news to him after he came from work. He was exhausted and just wanted to get out of his suit. You were helping him undo his tie when you quietly explained your visit to the doctor’s office. You spoke in a calm manner, from the positive result to the expecting due date, breaking down each bit of information the doctor gave you to your husband.

“Looks like it was more than just a stomach bug,” you teased, “I am so sorry I didn’t tell you, I just wanted to make sure that it was…” 

When you looked up at your husband, your heart nearly stopped at the sight of his glittering eyes.

He clasped your wrists in his hands, rubbing his thumb gently over your skin as you gripped his tie. He didn’t hear a single thing you said after you told him you were pregnant. He blinked back his happy tears, a smile spreading on that unfairly handsome face and all he could ask in response is: “A baby? We’re having a baby?”

You didn’t even realize your own growing emotion, your words catching in your throat as you finally exhaled. “Yes…” you said as a laugh escaped you, and you were instantly met by your husbands lips on yours.

As time went by, you and Nanami began making preparations together for the baby. Nanami was there for every single doctor’s appointment, his support always giving you comfort and calming your anxieties about being a new parent. He reminded you that you both were in this together, and he would be by your side no matter what. 

Nanami was also nervous but he tried his best not to show it around you. He coped with his own anxieties by reading plenty of parenting books and asking the doctor a lot of questions. Although, Nanami knew that nothing will really prepare him for fatherhood except experience... 

...but he was excited, terribly so, that he had a hard time even hiding it. He loved watching the bump form in your belly. His heart swelling with the thought of you, the love of his life, carrying his child. Whenever he lost his trail of thought it was usually because he was trying to figure out a name for his little girl or boy.  

Nanami is already extremely protective of you but it only heightened during your pregnancy. He always wanted to make sure you got enough rest, refusing to let you do even the smallest task that could exert your energy despite you being perfectly capable of handling things yourself.

“Ken, you need to relax...” you pleaded one day, after he got annoyed that you decided to rearrange the bookshelf in your apartment. You walked up to your husband and kissed him sweetly on the nose, “I promise when it’s time for me to slow down, I will...but until then you need to understand that I’m not porcelain doll...” 

Your husband rolled his eyes at you, pouting out of frustration as he folded his arm over his chest but conceding. He backed off a little bit after that but his sharp eyes were always reading your body language. 

That’s how he was able to track all your new symptoms so well. One morning he noticed the way your face turned green while he was frying bacon, his expression softening as a small sigh escaped his lips. You noticed him walk over to his recipe book, jotting down something before checking if he could make you something else for breakfast.

When you asked him what he wrote, he merely shrugged and said: “just keeping track of everything that’s been making you feel queasy…”

Time went by, the baby was growing and you were too. You had to go shopping for some maternity clothes one day. While you were out, you found yourself bumping into a friendly face. 

“I saw Gojo-san at shopping center today. He suggested that we name the baby after him…” you spoke while pulling out the new clothes you had picked from your bag and watching your husband furrow his brows at your comment but there was the the tiniest smirk on his face. You were expecting him to say some snarky remark about Gojo but Nanami merely brushed it off.

“The baby isn’t here yet and you’re already getting soft..” you teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Nanami kissed you before replying, “he’s not going to ruin this for me…”

What you didn’t know is Nanami’s softness for Gojo stemmed for a whole other reason. After he found out you were pregnant, Nanami actually had a sit down with his problematic co-worker. He knew the burdens you carried being married to a Jujutsu sorcerer and wanted to make sure that if anything were to happen you would be taken care of. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t promise a safe return every single time. I need to make sure they are protected...” Nanami spoke, his tone serious but realized that his superior was listening attentively to everything he had to say. “If I’m not around and my child has the capabilities that I do...she’s going to need someone to help her. I just need to know that someone will be there for them, to protect them if...if something happens...” 

Gojo leaned back against the wall, pressing his lips together as he hummed to himself. He knew full well that Nanami asking him for any type of favor was a big deal but he nodded his head in agreement. “If anything happens, which I hope they don’t...but if it does, I promise you I will take care of them.”

That was the only time that Nanami Kento ever sincerely thanked Gojo Satoru for anything.  

The sweet moment only lasted a few seconds until Gojo teased if that meant he was allowed to sleep with you at any point. He earned a well deserved scowl from Nanami, all before hearing his co-worker threaten that he would slit his six eyes into six pieces if he ever brought that up again. 

 With your delivery date a month away, you and your husband were sitting in bed together discussing the living arrangements for when the baby arrives. 

“I’m looking into buying a house. Nothing too big, but it’ll be enough space for the three of us,” he explains, stroking your palm with his thumb as both of your hands were resting on your belly. “Maybe we can move in by next year...” 

 “I can’t imagine us not living here...” you replied, biting your bottom lip, “but little Charmander over here is probably going to need their own room eventually...” 

Nanami chuckled, covering his face with his hand before looking  you. “I hate that nickname so much...”

You held back a smile, “I know but I couldn’t keep calling the baby “it” all the time, and besides, they kind of looked like Charmander in their last sonogram...”  

“I hope our child doesn’t turn out as weird as their mother...” Nanami teased as he brought his face down to yours. His lips met your own, pecking you gently while playfully rubbing his nose against you. 

“Mmm...and I hope they don’t turn out as serious as their father...” you replied but your heart fluttered when Nanami let go of your hand to bring his fingers to your neck as he kissed you deeply. 

Later that night, Nanami lay awake watching you sleep peacefully next to him. He wanted to relish in this serene moment, where he was blissfully and unquestionably happy. Not many people who came into his world stayed, but you did, and he was eternally grateful to have you by his side. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

There was a comment a while back about NMJ having capybara energy. So have a cracky prompt of some strategists in the Sunshot Campaign deciding how this could be weaponized, or used as an interrogation technique. If they give cooperate and give information, they can be in a cuddle pile with NMJ.

ao3

The worst part about war was, unquestionably, the war itself.

The loss of life, the injuries, the stress – the agonizing terror of knowing that each moment might be your last, the painful boredom of waiting for something to happen, the shaking anxiety of never knowing which one the day would bring. Watching your friends and family suffer, watching innocent people suffer…it was grotesquely awful in ways Lan Xichen had never even dreamed of it being.

And yet, as if war wasn’t bad enough by itself, it also had – side effects.

Evil creatures thrived on resentful energy, their own or others’, gathered at sites of death or violence, and there was nothing that they liked better than the wasted spiritual energy that accompanied the untimely death of cultivators. This war, sect against sect, was a breeding ground for all the creatures that they ought to be night-hunting, not encouraging.

Led by Nie Mingjue, who never forgot his obligations, their side – the Four Great Sects, that was – took care of the innocent people who were being harmed by their war, protecting them from the immediate aftereffects, settling them in new places if their homes were damaged, making sure they weren’t caught in the middle of ongoing battle. Sects that skimped on their duties to the common people were mercilessly cut off in turn, where necessary, and Nie Mingjue had even demanded that Lanling Jin personally recompense an entire village that had lost their homes due to their negligence or else face the next Wen attack without his aid – the cost of doing so was negligible for them, but the humiliating loss of face among the rest of the sects that he had even had felt the need to make the threat, coupled with the fact that they really did need his help, served as an extremely potent reminder for everyone else.

When possible, the sects devoted some resources to night-hunting, trying to restrain the effects of their war, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche that had already started: they could mitigate some of the damage, but until the war was over, it would only get worse and worse.

It didn’t help, naturally, that the Wen sect’s leaders didn’t care one whit about the effects of their actions.

Wen Ruohan loudly blamed the other Great Sects for it, claiming that they were ‘rebelling’ against him – as if they hadn’t all been equal just before – and that the heavens were punishing them for their violation of the natural order; his commanders followed suit, disdaining even the distraction of night-hunting and making dismissive promises that it would all be resolved when the war was won.

Still, however Wen Ruohan felt, however his generals and commanders felt, even they couldn’t ignore all the effects.

Especially not the ones that hit everyone equally.

“More nightmares?” Lan Xichen asked Jiang Cheng as he came into the command tent, rubbing his red eyes and looking awful. They all looked awful, but the recent affliction of dream-eaters that had swept through their camp and the enemy’s was especially vicious - particularly on those like Jiang Cheng, who had already existing trauma and were already burdened by nightmares. They were killing the creatures that generated the nightmares as quickly as possible, but there was only so much they could do with the encampment of the Wen sect not far away, waiting for a display of weakness that would give them the opportunity to attack.

The Wen sect were afflicted by the dream-eaters, too, and under any other circumstances Lan Xichen would propose that they raise the flag of truce long enough to eradicate the menace. Unfortunately, the Wen sect had proved themselves fundamentally untrustworthy – Jiang Cheng’s own family situation told the story quite vividly, even if Lan Xichen didn’t have to only close his eyes to see the burning of the Cloud Recesses – and so they all just suffered, instead.

“Bad ones,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and nodded at Wei Wuxian, who had followed him into the tent looking, somehow, even worse. Not a great surprise, given that he’d been trapped in the Burial Mounds and now utilized resentful energy as a weapon – he had to be even more susceptible to the nightmares than the rest of them, but there was nothing to be done about it; his new cultivation style was too valuable for him to stop now. If Lan Xichen had to guess, Wei Wuxian was working himself to the bone and collapsing into nightmares, never getting any rest; his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, his waist too thin.

When Lan Wangji entered the tent next and saw Wei Wuxian there, looking half-dead, his face immediately twisted in what Lan Xichen recognized as clear concern. Poor Lan Wangji was suffering, too, although perhaps Lan Xichen was the only one who could tell.

Lan Xichen felt a stab of pain on all their behalf, all of them, and handed out tea to strengthen their spirits. He’d selected the most energizing blend he could find in preparation for this meeting, their first in several weeks – they were all fighting their own fronts, Lanling Jin in Langya, Qinghe Nie in Hejian, so on and so forth, but they needed to coordinate, and these in-person meetings were the best option for it.

And they really needed to discuss what to do about this new nightmare scourge.

“I think it’s like this for everyone,” Jiang Cheng said, accepting the tea, and Lan Xichen was just in the middle of nodding when he heard a strange sound – laughter, of all things.

They all turned to stare at the door, where Nie Huaisang was walking in, followed by an exhausted-looking Jin Zixuan as his father’s representative. It had been Lan Xichen who had asked for Nie Huaisang to be brought here from his refuge at the Cloud Recesses, thinking that this highly protected meeting was as close to safety on the battlefield as they could get and that it would be good for Nie Mingjue to see his little brother safe and sound.

Of all of them, they needed Nie Mingjue to remain strong. He was the Great Sects’ most effective general, their most terrifying war god; he was as viciously effective a general as he was a frontline fighter, designing many of the strategies they all used and providing many of their sects with critical assistance even though his Nie sect and its affiliated sects were the least numerous of the Great Sects, excluding only the significantly diminished forces of the Jiang sect.

More than his personal contribution, though, he’d become something of a lucky talisman for the rest of them. Lan Xichen had heard all sorts of stories about each and every one of them - Jiang Cheng as the resurrected phoenix, unkillable; Wei Wuxian as a demon barely leashed and used for their own purposes; Lan Xichen himself as a beacon of light bringing hope to those who needed it most - but that was nothing compared to what was said and believed about Nie Mingjue: that as long as Chifeng-zun was there, inexorable and inviolable, the unquestioned king of Hejian, the Wen sect’s eventual defeat was inevitable.

Even Lan Xichen found himself thinking it, reassuring himself late at night that all their efforts were not for nothing, that it would all end well in the end.

It wasn’t a healthy way of thinking, not for them and least of all for Nie Mingjue himself, who had to live up to that terrible reputation, but it was what was getting them through each day of this terrible war. So if there was something within Lan Xichen’s power to help Nie Mingjue keep himself together, he would do it, no matter the risk.

Nie Huaisang had arrived at their encampment the day before, with Nie Mingjue himself arriving even later, coming very late at night, and now it was morning and Nie Huaisang was laughing.

Laughing free and easy as if he didn’t have a care in the world, no less, and probably at one of his own jokes; Jin Zixuan was looking at him as if he’d never seen such a strange and wonderous thing in his life, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and…well, everyone, really, were all following suit. They’d all laughed in recent days, of course, war lending itself to black humor, but Nie Huaisang looked so light-hearted.

So…well-rested.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, blinking owlishly at him. “You look…good.” No, that wasn’t the word he was looking for. “Healthy.”

Not in need of sleep, he meant.

“Oh, well, you know,” Nie Huaisang demurred, hiding his face behind his fan. “I’m happy to see da-ge, that’s all. I get to comfort myself that he’s well and get a good night’s sleep for once; why wouldn’t I be well? Nothing much to it.”

“Good night’s sleep?” Jiang Cheng echoed, looking disbelieving – as well he should, too. Their current encampent was right next to one of the worst collections of nightmare afflicting creatures, the vicious dream-eaters that confused the mind and injured the spirit. “You got a good night’s sleep?”

“Better here than in the Cloud Recesses?” Wei Wuxian asked, rubbing his eyes. “Really?”

“Uh, yes?” Nie Huaisang said, and now it was his turn to blink at them. “My da-ge is here. I slept well and untroubled for the first time in ages.”

“That sounds...nice,” Jin Zixuan said, rubbing his eyes as well – probably inspired by Wei Wuxian. Such things were communicative. “You must have been worried about him.”

“Oh, da-ge will be fine, I’m sure,” Nie Huaisang said blithely, and Lan Xichen suppressed the abrupt and overwhelming desire to punch him. “But I have nightmares sometimes, you know, and there’s no reason not to use medicine if it’s available, right?”

“Medicine?” Lan Wangji asked, voice intent, and Lan Xichen went from mild irritation to sadness at once: for Lan Wangji to ask such a thing, to show such weakness, the nightmares must be very bad indeed.

“Yes, my da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “He’s nightmare-proof.”

“I’m glad that that works for you,” Jiang Cheng said snippily. “Pity about the rest of us.”

Nie Huaisang frowned at him. “It’s not just me,” he said. “It’s just how he is. Don’t you know?”

Lan Xichen was going to intervene and settle them down – their tempers were all unduly short, given the nightmare situation, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with that before having to cope with the same from Nie Mingjue, whose temper was extremely short at the best of times – but then just as he was opening his mouth to say something he was suddenly hit by an overwhelming feeling of sudden calm, the same sort of pleasant languor that came in the early morning of a calm rest day where you didn’t need to get out of bed, or perhaps in a warm and lazy afternoon when you had nothing to do and were considering a nap.  

It was amazing.

Lan Xichen could see the same effect taking hold of the others, too: Jin Zixuan let out a little sigh, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji both rocked back a little on their heels, eyes sliding closed in pleasure, Wei Wuxian actually let out a near-audible whimper of relief –

And then Nie Mingjue walked into the command tent.

“Good morning,” he said. He looked as steady as always, a tall and unshakable mountain; his brow was creased in his usual expression of neutral ill-humor and one could arguably feel the heat of his always simmering temper, but at the moment it just felt like warmth. “It’s good to see you all.”

They all murmured greetings in return, watching as Nie Mingjue – and the aura of calm relaxation that, apparently, accompanied him – passed them by and went towards the table where they had laid out all their plans. Unconsciously, they followed after him, drifting in his wake, each of them edging closer to him without ever having made a decision on it; as the other sect leaders who were leading the war showed up, they did the same, and by the time the usual pleasantries had concluded and the meeting was about to start, Nie Mingjue could barely turn around without nearly bumping into someone who had drifted too close.

Lan Xichen really ought to tell them to stop – he was the courier, the connection between the sects, familiar with each and every one of them – but he found himself instead abusing his position and his history as Nie Mingjue’s old friend to finagle a place at his right side, just behind his shoulder, and just stood there, his eyes half-lidded as he basked in the feeling. It was a little like really good meditation, he thought, the type that centered you and grounded you, let you be steady and hold your ground, come what may.

As the general, Nie Mingjue opened the meeting, running through the usual updates – he was short and to the point as always, which invariably made these meetings run significantly better because after a start like that even the most long-winded and shameless of old men felt a bit constrained to keep their words within the realm of the reasonable. After he finished detailing their current positions, the Wen sect’s latest moves and his predictions on their next, certain counters he planned to use – all at a very high level of generality, of course, in the event of spies – Nie Mingjue looked around, frowning a little: they had been all listening with surprising quietude, not a single objection or comment among them the way there usually was.

“Is there any other business?” he asked.

One of the leaders of a smaller sect – Sect Leader Ouyang – visibly shook himself and coughed. “The…scourge?”

“Scourge?” Nie Mingjue scowled. “What scourge? Has there been a greater than usual resurgence of evil creatures? What type? Why was I not informed?”

Lan Xichen looked at his old friend as though seeing him for the first time, as though abruptly realizing that your old familiar pillow was in fact a wonderous treasured pearl to be held carefully in one’s hand.

“It’s dream-eaters,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding blank and surprised. “The sort that cause nightmares...you know the type, surely? Common enough and usually fairly harmless, but there’s a whole lot of them and they’re breeding faster than we can kill them – not unless we devote ourselves just to the task, which we can’t do. Has - has the Nie sect not suffered from this affliction?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, frowning, and he seemed oddly discomforted, the reason for which he immediately revealed: “In fact, I’ve never seen a dream-eater. They’re not common in Qinghe, I think.”

That was impossible, of course – dream-eaters were notorious for being a pest that could be found anywhere, no matter what the climate or terrain; it was a little like saying that your household had never known a rat.

Although, Lan Xichen supposed, one could see such a statement being made by the single household in the village possessed of a cat…

“That was one of the main reasons I wanted to have this meeting,” he said, clearing his throat. He had told most of the sect leaders that it would be on the agenda, but he hadn’t had time to meet with Nie Mingjue, nor had he needed to – as the general, Nie Mingjue’s presence was a necessity, and so Lan Xichen had known that he would be there and had assumed (incorrectly, it seemed) that he would obviously want to devote some time to the issue. “It has been a rise in the number of such creatures, and yet we cannot divert attention from our frontline. Surely there must be some solution?”

“If it’s so severe, then we could strike a balance,” Nie Mingjue said, looking relieved at the possibility of turning the discussion onto the practical. “Those sects in regions with less ongoing strife could send teams to other fronts specifically to aid in eliminating the dream-eaters –”

“How has Qinghe Nie not suffered from the affliction?” The person interrupting was one of the sect leaders affiliated with Lanling Jin, even though Jin Zixuan turned and glared death at him. “Whatever can be said about dream-eaters in Qinghe, Hejian certainly doesn’t lack them, or at least it never has before. If there is some means of resisting them, it ought to be shared.”

That particular sect leader had arrived late and was seated relatively far back; perhaps he was out of range of Nie Mingjue, and hadn’t noticed – or perhaps, and more likely, he was simply being obnoxious and looking for an opportunity to snatch up whatever talisman Nie Mingjue was using to relieve the effects of the dream-eaters for Lanling Jin’s benefit. As if they had some greater claim to it, when they were doing the least of the fighting..!

“I haven’t seen them,” Nie Mingjue said, his face black with annoyance that Lan Xichen knew was merely a cover for embarrassment. “Not even in Hejian.”

Nie Huaisang giggled behind his fan. “That’s not your fault, da-ge,” he said. “They run away when they see you coming. Isn’t that right, Xiaochun-shushu?”

Eyes turned to the man standing by Nie Mingjue’s side – one of the Nie sect commanders – who looked a little awkward to be put on the spot, shifting his weight and clearing his throat. “To the extent it has been an issue at any of our outposts, we usually ask the Sect Leader to check in on morale, which generally resolves the issue,” he said circumspectly, and Nie Mingjue looked minorly outraged at the suggestion that his entire sect apparently used him as a way to ward off a creature usually classified as a minor pest. Without telling him, no less.

“So the effect is not caused by a talisman or spiritual instrument?” Sect Leader Yao asked, looking disappointed. “Nothing that can be duplicated?”

“What effect?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“Perhaps we could ask Sect Leader Nie to visit some of the other territories?” another sect leader suggested.

“And risk Hejian? Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said, though he looked sorely tempted.

“What effect?” Nie Mingjue asked again.

“I wonder if the Wen sect is suffering to the extent we are,” Wei Wuxian said thoughtfully, spinning his flute in his hand. “We have some prisoners of war, don’t we? They might be inclined to share more information if they were a little more relaxed. Don’t you think?”

“Especially following a state of heightened distress,” Jin Zixuan said, nodding. “The relief will be much more pronounced, which could lower their defenses –”

“Maybe we could even get –”

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue hissed in his ear as the debate began in earnest, each sect leader rushing forward to add in their views. “What are they talking about?”

Lan Xichen looked helplessly at Nie Huaisang who scuttled over. “It’s the dream-eaters, da-ge,” he said in an undertone. “Sustained exposure. People get tired, cranky, irritable; their cultivation is weakened, their focus impaired…they become simultaneously less sensitive to certain things, like social niceties, and more sensitive to other things. Like a feeling of steadiness and reliability.”

“…so?” Nie Mingjue said.

“So a lot of people are noticing for the first time that you’re very – uh – grounding.”

“Grounding,” Nie Mingjue said skeptically. “Like…a lightning rod?”

It wasn’t quite the metaphor Lan Xichen would have gone with.

“It’s always like this?” he asked Nie Huaisang, fascinated, and Nie Huaisang nodded. “Why didn’t I notice?”

“You probably noticed subconsciously?” Nie Huaisang guessed. “People like being around da-ge, even when they don’t like him. Anyway, you’re usually very steady yourself, Xichen-gege –” Nie Mingjue sighed at his brother’s rudeness. “– so you probably didn’t notice that you were feeling even more so. In our sect, you’ll find parents coming by to drop off their kids next to da-ge; they follow him like a flock of ducklings, it’s the only thing that keeps them quiet…”

“I thought they just liked watching me train?”

“I mean, they like that, too, da-ge, I’m sure. But mostly people just feel safe when you’re around.”

Safe. Yes, that was what it felt like, calm and safe and secure, like there was a rock-solid foundation to the world that nothing could tear down; like even if Nie Mingjue were at the end of his rope, he would still do everything he could not to let you down.

“It’s very nice,” Lan Xichen said.

Nie Mingjue was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Huaisang,” he said. “If this is such a common phenomenon, why didn’t anyone tell me about it?”

“To be honest, we were a little worried that it’d go away if anyone pointed it out to you,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently not. Good!”

“This is ridiculous. I’m a sect leader, a front-line fighter, a general…I can’t go traipsing around fighting dream-eaters. We have a war to fight!”

“People fight better if they can sleep,” Nie Huaisang said wisely, and Lan Xichen nodded in firm support. Lan Wanji had drifted over at some point and looked to now be sleeping standing up, which was practically an endorsement as well. “Anyway, I think the idea of gathering people up to go deal with the problem is a good one, and anyone who’s really desperate for a good night’s rest can trade over to fight in Hejian for a while. That’ll keep your forces fresh, encourage the circulation of people and the development of relationships between the various sects, and you’ll have the chance to get a good look at who’s actually competent or not while they fight directly under you.”

“Hmm, true,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen had to agree – it wasn’t a bad idea at all. Maybe it was the fact that Nie Huaisang was the only one of them who’d gotten any sleep that had allowed him to be the one to suggest it.

“And of course, best of all, as long as our side is getting relief and the Wen sect isn’t…”

“Oh, all right,” Nie Mingjue said. “I still think this is ridiculous, and I’m having some difficulty believing that I really give off some sort of – sleep field, or whatever.”

“You do,” Lan Xichen said. “In fact, I may propose that we break up the meeting temporarily to allow everyone to take a brief nap.”

“We are not doing that,” Nie Mingjue said. “We’re not toddlers.”

“We should do that,” Lan Wangji said, opening his eyes.

Wei Wuxian’s head turned at the sound of Lan Wangji’s voice. “Do what?”

“Break up the meeting for everyone to take a nap and return with steadied nerves and calmer minds,” Nie Huaisang said.

“We should definitely do that,” Wei Wuxian said, and nudged Jiang Cheng. “Hey, Jiang Cheng, how do you feel about everyone in the room taking a nap before we continue discussing the war?”

“That is the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You’re not serious,” Nie Mingjue said. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Oh, we are very serious,” Lan Xichen said, and cleared his throat, waving for people’s attention. “Everyone, in light of the scourge of dream-eaters we’ve all been struggling with over the past few weeks, I have a suggestion…”

[dreaminae]

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 15

Sure, distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also drives the brain aloof. Or so, that was Liv's take on her current situation. Almost four weeks went by since the big family dinner blowout where Billy and Jordan learned of Liv's drinking. Four weeks since her father's overwhelming disappointment swallowed Olivia whole with a growing fear of being sent away for help once more. Four weeks since her fear led to Liv, running away for help from the one person who she hadn't been in contact with for months -- her sponsor. And four weeks since Liv was giving a large wake-up call when she found her former sponsor behind bars for attempting to steal from her very own parents.

That night Olivia saw what could be her possible future if she didn't receive proper treatment while she still had the chance. Despite her fear of being sent away, she returned home after hours of dodging calls and texts from her loved ones. She walked into her home ready to accept the help, no matter the consequences. And perhaps that why fate played into her hands.

Fore when Olivia returned home, she found both her parents welcomed her with open arms, simply content that she was alright. Following the long night, Liv was surprised to find her family already with a suitable compromise. Instead of shipping her away, Billy and Laura decided upon an intensive program that allowed Liv to remain at home while she recovered.

Later into that evening, Spencer dropped by for what they both knew would be their last moment together for a long term. Acknowledging that they both had things to work on, they agreed to delay their romance until they were both in a good place to be together for real. They weren't breaking up or taking back the feelings they once declared. No, they were -- as Liv put it that night -- 'playing the long game'. Sealing their goodbye with a heartfelt kiss, they parted ways.

Focused on her recovery, Olivia found a new sponsor and confidant in Nurse Joy. Admitting her dependency upon Alcohol, and accepting responsibility for falling off the wagon, Olivia began her road to recovery. Meanwhile, Spencer centered his time on football and plotting his plan to bring Crenshaw a state championship.

Ignoring their constant desire to be together they cut off all physical communication, choosing to stick to the everyday messages to check in on one another. It wasn't until the night of Jordan's second concussion they were able to be in each other's arms.

Utilizing each other as helping shoulder through damaging announcement of Jordan's future in football, they found comfort in their buried affections. Having each other's back when Simone dropped the marriage reveal, Spencer and Liv supported each other when confronted by Billy and Laura.

The secret marriage only adding to Liv's troubled life as Laura grounded her into the next century for her deceit. Life toppled their trivial matter with the death of Tamika, shaking Olivia's inner social justice warrior to its full-frontal.

From leaking footage of Tamika's wrongful death to protesting for the indictment of the guilty officers, Liv found something bigger to be a part of. Her best intentions leading to backfire as Laura took the heat of alleged bigoted D.A. Learning to accept her mistakes, Liv tried to make the best of a complicated issue.

She and Kia's devotion to cause, sparking Spencer to follow suit, persuading his team to take a knee during their most important game. Inspiring by the Crenshaw team their opponents took a knee in protest. As a result of more football teams following Crenshaw's players in taking a knee, Crenshaw was granted another shot at the state championship.

Everything seemed to play into Liv and Spencer's hands, except the main thing they both desired since summer. It was all in a matter of timing, and they both couldn't help but anticipate when that moment would finally arrive.

So when they found themselves planning a surprise party in honor of Spencer's mom earning her college degree, the anticipation rose to a new peak.

"So no gouging out my eyes?" Liv playfully joked, allowing herself to make a joke of the foolish comments people were making about her online.

Spencer scoffed as if insulted. "What, those pretty eyes? You crazy." His eyes drifted from the direction of her eyes to her lips.

Olivia smiled softly as he quickly shifted back to their original conversation, unsure if now was the right time for them to share that type of moment. "You gon' help me fix this came or what?" He questioned with a crooked grin.

"Yes," Liv replied with a cheeky grin as she hopped from her seat, wondering how long he'd wait to make a move.

The next hour and a half flew by with them baking the cake while making basic small talk to catch up with one another. They discussed Liv's daily meeting with nurse joy and how her recovery was coming. Liv caught Spencer up on Jordan's everyday hobbies since his time away from football, while Spencer tried his best not to admit to Liv that he was aiding in Jordan's desire to return to football. Their topics switched until they circled back to Spencer's upcoming game against Westlake, and how Olivia punishment lifted just in time for her to come see him play.

"You'll be my personal cheering section." Spencer goofed as he iced the bare cake.

"Of course. I'll be decked in your jersey number and sporting Crenshaw colors all night." Liv giggled, imaging herself ornamented in Spencer James merchandising. "I'll be shouting the loudest. Go, Spencer! Kick some Westlake ass!" She shouted cheerfully, causing Spencer to chuckle.

"And what about I finish kicking Westlake's ass?" He wondered aloud. "Do I get a prize?" He inquired with a lifted brow.

"You'll have won the state championship for Crenshaw and saved your school. What more could I give you?" Liv snickered, sipping her lemonade.

"I can think of a few things." Spencer flirted causing Liv's cheeks to redden as she swallowed her refreshment.

The knocking of the front door interrupted their flustered juncture. "I'm should...um..you know..."

"Don't worry, I will still be here when you get back." He chuckled towards her rattled nature.

He frosted the cake as Liv dealt with a package delivery on behalf of the coach baker. Shortly after leaving the package in the living room, she rrutrned. Her reserved nature now contained after she took a moment to compose herself.

She returned to the kitchen with more pep in her step resolved with knowing that the moment she and Spencer both delayed was finally arriving, and all she had to do was lead it.

Eyeing Spencer with a twinkle in her eye she cheekily leaned over close to his direction, dipping her finger in the canned frosting. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She inquired sassily, catching his attention as she strutted a few feet around the counter.

"Girl, you know I got skills." He responded cockily, earning a snicker from Liv as she shut the refrigerator to from putting leftover baking ingredients.

"Hey, I was thinking that we should have that graduation won't playing at my mom's party," Spencer suggested, humming his ideal tune aloud.

Olivia listened to the tune with a puzzled expression. "Umm, that's the wedding song."

Spencer eyed her strangely, confused as to how he got the two melodies muddled.

Giving him a sympathetic grin, Liv rubbed his arm, comforting him. "Hmm, you'll get it." She laughed as Spencer twisted his face in slight embarrassment. "It's okay." She added jokingly.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer gestured down to the finished cake. "Well, what do you think?"

Liv analyzed the frosted cake, impressed by how well it came out. "It's good." She complimented with growing suspicion. "Like really good." She added, smirking at Spencer. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Maybe like once for my moms birthday..." He dragged out, sensing that his cover was blown as he smiled crookedly. "And maybe all of Dillion's birthdays." He admitted, redhandedly causing Olivia to laugh.

"Alright, you caught me." Spencer chuckled, then grew serious. "N'all but, I just wanted to get your mind off everything." He confessed wholeheartedly, hating the low amounts of times he witnessed a real smile from Liv over the last few weeks.

"You did," Olivia assured him, touched that Spencer went found the energy to help her through the day's mess, even though she was meant to be helping him today. "You made me feel a lot better." She added, wanting him to know that his intentions were highly effective.

Spencer simply nodded, content to help in any way he could.

Liv smiled thinking back to how their last few hours together reminded her of the summer they spent together. No matter if it dumb shows or extended time at the mall shopping, Spencer remained glue to her hip just to make Liv happy. If he noticed she was having a bad day, he'd make a stupid joke to make her laugh. When she felt alone and needed someone to talk to, Spencer spent hours on the phone with her. When she felt like crumbling, he was always the rock that steadily held her up.

"You've done that before too." Olivia slipped out, letting her affection take over. Her eyes darted to his with a knowing twinkle.

Spencer observed her stature, finding Olivia in control and sure of herself. She beamed gently with a slight tilt of her head as if waiting to see what he would do next. She wanted to know if he still wanted her, and this was her way of conveying her yearning for him. With an assured confirmation that she was ready, Spencer took this as his cue.

Without saying another word he walked towards Liv, ready to give in to their passions. His head tilted in the opposing direction of Liv's as they both leaned in to close the small space between them.

However, right when their lips were about to meet Spencer's phone buzzed. Spencer grunted under his breath, annoyed by the bad timing, but reached for his phone nonetheless. Liv sucked in a tight breath, frustrated by another halted moment.

Remaining with barely an inch separating them, Liv took matters into her own hands. Literally.

"Spence," Liv mumbled, topping the hand that held his phone with the palm of her hand to gain his attention. His phone continued to buzz, as Spencer gave Olivia his awareness. "Yeah."

"It'll still be there afterward." Liv sighed with an unsure smile, gently pulling his phone out of hand. Her finger dragged across the screen, rejecting the call. "But I'm right here. Right now." She remarked, locking eyes with him, lust emitting from her own. "And I don't know about you but I'm tired of waiting." She snickered sassily, earning a smirk from Spencer.

Liv eyes danced from Spencer's brown orbs, falling to his lips, then back to his eyes. Cupping his face, she brought his lips to hers for a kiss that was weeks in the making.

[cloakedandsoaked]

Wants and Needs

[This is straight-up porn. Don’t read it if you don’t want to read porn. Contains lots of blood, a wee bit of self-harm, consensual non-consent, and probably other things I haven’t thought to warn for.]

As Dantalion threw his head back, lines of fire cutting down each side of him, his last remaining thought flickered in wonder at how he had managed to find himself here. For ‘here’ he most certainly was, covered in sweat and ichor, with a demon he'd just met leaning over him in an unfamiliar bed, to which he was tightly bound. And then the thought was gone, banished with all the others to wherever thoughts disappear to in the throes of ecstasy.

If it had stuck around, it might have elucidated for us the circumstances that had led Dantalion to this peculiar state of affairs. Indeed, it might have told first of the deep itch that had taken hold in his bones some time over the past few days, an itch to which he was all too accustomed. It came in times of stress, in times of boredom, and, sometimes, at least as far as the duke himself could tell, for no particular reason at all.

In the past, he would have ignored such an itch. Or, failing that, he might have tried to scratch it himself, though that usually didn't take very well or for very long -- and it seemed to upset Sahar, which he had no real inclination to do.

But now….

Well, he had been trying to allow himself as much of what he wanted as possible. In the aftermath of his emotional experiments, giving in to desire seemed to help quiet the hollowness, at least for a time.

And what he desired was for someone to hurt him. Properly.

Not enough, of course, to render him unfit for duty; he was needy, not insane. He just wanted someone to, y'know. Rough him up a bit. Take the edge off that grasping, cloying thirst beneath his skin that cried out for some kind of stimulation.

One of the downsides to using his physical form as a sensory muffler was that he sometimes felt too muffled, almost claustrophobic under the smothering blanket burrito of his flesh. And since he wasn't going to leave that flesh unless absolutely necessary, sometimes -- just sometimes -- he needed something to reach between the bars of his self-made prison and touch him for real.

Or, at least, as close to 'real' as it was going to get.

He'd had Sahar set up the appointment for him, even allowing her to select the practitioner. Someone discreet, secure. (Obscenely well-paid, as should be obvious.) Thankfully, she had a shortlist ready and waiting, as it had been for years. It was an old argument of theirs, and, until now, she had never convinced him to book.

With only half an hour 'til the appointment, Dantalion had quite nearly bunnied out, despite the fact that he would lose his deposit. However, he found his mind turning to Asmodeus, and his resolve pulled through. Asmodeus would be disappointed by the idea that he couldn't even visit a professional dominant without turning coward. He took a deep breath, centered himself, and flipped the switch on his nervousness.

That's right, this is supposed to be good, isn't it? The hollowness was back, and with it, the itch, and with the itch, an unsettling but not unfamiliar sort of desire. Yes, this is how it's supposed to be. No more nights spent trying to clench himself together, or worse, trying to find fulfillment in his own claws, but unable to escape his bullet train of a mind even as he bled a pool onto the floor. Straightening his back, he had left his office with a new confidence.

And that confidence held, even through the consultation. Of course, he and Master Rodger (Really? Tal had thought, ‘Rodger’ of all things?) had communicated by email the day before, so both of them knew at least some of what to expect.

Well, Tal didn't expect Master Rodger to have easily a metre on him (Not even counting the horns, stars!); that part was a surprise. And not at all an unwelcome one, Tal noted vaguely in the part of his mind that wasn't focused on maintaining his social mask. Although he knew his mask was going to slip at some point in the evening, and, indeed, that was part of the point, it didn't do to be anything less than a perfect gentlebeing outside of the scene. Manners mattered.

It helped that Master Rodger (For real, that has to be a work name, Dantalion kept thinking. And of course it was.) was warm and open, exactly the sort of person to make one want to reflect those qualities back. It rang a bell of familiarity in Tal's mind; it carried an essence of similarity to the seeping heat of Asmodeus, but much less intense, and without the sense of nervousness and... almost… violation? that always came along with it.

(Then again, he hadn't seen Asmodeus except in picture form since his experiments with the switch method, and next time, the experience might be totally different. It was hard to say. He rather hoped so! That was part of the purpose of the whole affair, after all.)

They discussed the usual necessities. Safewords, limits, aftercare, any other concerns. They settled on the classic traffic light system for safewords; no surprise there. Most of Tal's limits had been outlined in their online communication, but he reinforced a few. I'm in charge of my breathing. I'm in charge of my eye contact. Master Rodger made a point of reminding him of a limit or two of his own, including 'no kisses on the mouth', one Tal actually took quite a bit of comfort in. It wouldn't have been something he'd have listed, himself, but it was certainly not something he enjoyed most of the time.

It did, admittedly, get a bit awkward when Dantalion had to show him (for it was a tricky subject) exactly how he liked and didn't like his hair and scalp to be touched. No amount of warmth and openness could save him there. He felt as if he were on display in a way far more scandalous than was typically possible for the amount of clothing he still had on. The sensation was, if he were honest with himself, a little bit exciting, though that didn't cut through the social ticklishness of the moment.

And then they were ready, and all at once, the nervousness from before sprang again like a tiger to devour him from the inside. In what way, he wasn't sure, but he must have revealed it as they made their way to the back room, for Master Rodger laid a paw in the middle of his back (which was honestly about as low as he could reach with his paw without bending; Stars, but he's tall!), and rubbed a calming circle there. "Just like we talked about, right? Is this okay?"

Tal first tensed at the contact, then relaxed into it. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. "First time jitters. It's fine. I'm a high-strung personality. But then again, that's why I'm here." He was babbling, and he realised it. Rather than continue, he nodded at Master Rodger, who opened the door for him.

"Five minutes, and we'll start. You can put your clothes on the chair by the door on the right." It was a solid acknowledgement of Tal's stated preference that he begin the scene already in the nude, and he appreciated it. Master Rodger gave him a once-over, and then corrected: "Make it three; I really don't want you sitting in there fretting a mess."

Tal smiled sheepishly, and went on in.

Four minutes later, he was turned over one comically long thigh, face and torso resting on the edge of the great, black bed, bum in the air.

Not all went so smoothly. Only a few minutes of spanking with some sort of implement (he couldn't see what, but he knew it wasn't a paw) had him flushed and squirming, and not with the response he had most hoped to have. This would have to be rectified. "Excuse me, sir?" he ground out, tense with the sensations and his own pride.

"Yes, kitten?" He stopped what he was doing, keen to listen to whatever it was that had made Dantalion speak up now, when he had been so seemingly reserved.

Tal sighed and shifted against the thick leg that bore him up. "I mean no offense, but this is really… doing more to turn me on than to hurt me." He pinked further in embarrassment, as if the evidence of his cock was not enough to humiliate him. Dantalion was clearly more than a little pent up.

"Already asking for more, eh? Greedy." He ran a single claw up Tal's spine, with just enough pressure to be felt. "I like it."

Tal shuddered at the implication on his skin, and his ears pricked as he heard a rustling noise. The anticipation was almost overwhelming as he waited, breathless, for the dom's next move. He wasn't expecting gentleness. 

However, that's exactly what he received; a velveted paw soothed small circles on his arse, coaxing out the too-small sting that had gathered there. Dantalion made a strangled noise between a sigh and a growl, and ground his hips up into the Master's leg.

"You have permission to ask me for 'more' any time you like. Understood, kitten?"

Dantalion twisted his face into the bed until his neck was crooked and only his mouth peeked out. This is torture! Fuck, it can't have even been fifteen minutes yet. "Yes, sir," he sighed, unsure whether either of them had really understood the point of this whole endeavor.

Crack!

Tal arched off the bed, more in shock than pain, though the pain hit him a half-second later, and he welcomed it with a soft moan as he collapsed back down. The moan was cut off with another stroke, followed by three in rapid succession. "Fuck," he hissed, hands scrambling to find purchase on the tight-laid bedsheets.

"Color?"

"Green, sir!" Tal's eyes ghosted closed as another short rain of blows fell with an unrelenting sting that had him panting again in seconds. This time, it was the proper kind of panting; the last thing on his mind was his cock. He spat a few choice swears into the bed, only just managing to 'be good' and stay in place on Master Rodger's knee. Not that he wanted to get away; far from it! But much longer, he knew, and his body would cease to obey him as he gave into the sensation. Tal was a writher.

Seeming to sense this, Master Rodger put a heavy paw between Tal's shoulders, not pushing, but steadying, guiding him back into place. The contact appeared to seep some of the rising tension from Tal's frame, and Master Rodger purred a few words of praise at the quick response.

Tal whimpered lightly at the regard, and was rewarded with a new rhythm of slaps, slow but unceasing and a little heavier than before. His mind began to fog with the first strands of that most pleasant of dizzinesses, and he knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to ask: "Sir, please," he breathed.

"Mn?"

"What in the name of good glorious fuck are you hitting me with?" he asked, voice giddy and a little awestruck. He wasn't gone yet, but he was too far gone to worry about sounding as easy as he truly was, which was a mercy.

Master Rodger chuckled softly, but didn't cease in his work. "Tawse. You said it was a favorite, mn?"

The answer surprised Tal, almost enough to bring him out of his happy place and into a realm more intellectual. Instead, he burst out giggling. He'd never had a tawse used on him over the knee before; it was just impractical for people with an average arm and thigh length to use with any real efficiency. Gods, did Sahar hit the mark with this one.

"Yes, sir," he eventually remembered to reply through the laughter.

"You're making me wonder if I'm hitting you hard enough, there, kitten." The Master's voice was light, but contained a genuine query.

"More please, sir!" Tal chirruped, despite the fact that his tremulous body had already begun to imitate the vibrations of a washing machine on spin.

---------------------------------------------

And now, some fifty minutes later, Dantalion had lost his last thought to the claws of Master Rodger. His back was an utter ruin, stuck to the bedsheets with thick, black ichor. He had been flipped at some point, though he didn't have the presence of mind to remember how long ago. Everything was pain and the way his body gloried in it, trembling between the impulse to flee the aversion, and a hunger for more of the sensation lying beneath.

Every few moments, the former would win out, and, whimpering, he would recoil from the agony of claws ripping at the skin over his ribs. But then would come a hushed, encouraging word from the Master, perhaps a soft kiss to the jaw or a tug of hair, and the battle would shift once more in his favor.

This addling metre went on for some time, each pass pulling Dantalion deeper into the whistling throb of his flesh, a flesh which felt more expansive with each shuddered breath. He was crying in earnest, now, whether or not he realised it, and the ends of his hair were coated in the same blood that soaked the bed. Bloody too were his lips, which he had bitten nearly through in places, struggling to process the sensations happening in his body.

Master Rodger would rouse him to reality occasionally, just long enough to get a color from him (always a confident 'green'), but otherwise, Tal was lost.

Lost until he felt an unexpected sensation amidst the singing of his nerves.

He jerked his head up, and looked down through gummy eyelashes to see a rather intense-looking Master Rodger between his legs, one paw stroking Tal's cock. He hadn't even noticed he was hard again (or, perhaps, still), and wasn't that something? The absurdity of the situation overcame him, and he leveled a thoroughly poleaxed look at the dom, tear-reddened eyes awash with bewilderment at the change in circumstance.

Master Rodger took the reaction in his stride, pausing to soothe at Tal's lower belly, which had been left untouched by the methodical mauling of before. "You're okay, kitten. It's alright. You've done so well for me. I'm going to give you a little reward; does that sound good?"

It would be a lie to say the words didn't go directly to Tal's cock, nearly bypassing his mind altogether, as it was still quite muddled. But he managed to nod and mumble something that must have been an understandable affirmative, for Master Rodger resumed stroking him. (Lost to him for the moment was the fact that this had always been part of their plan; the pawjob wasn't meant to have been a surprise.)

The changeover in sensation was its own kind of violence, disrupting the settled flow of back-and-forth between too much and just enough that had categorised the previous stage of the scene for Dantalion. Now, there was no 'too much'; though the tacky sheets clung to the wounds of his back as if with tar, and his whole torso clamoured at him every time he tensed, none of it compared to the incandescence of a laceration in progress. And the pleasure he now felt was of a totally different stripe, tapping into a need less potent, but which he was still all too eager to have filled.

Speaking of being filled -- When Master Rodger was certain he had navigated the change, he allowed Dantalion a moment of respite while he fiddled around with something off to the side. Tal heard the tell-tale click of a lube pump (for what he now realised must be the second time, though the first had been lost in the fog), and had only a second to prepare before something chilled slicked at his entrance.

He tensed automatically, and before he could loosen again, Master Rodger was on the case. "Shh-shh, relax your body for me. Nice and easy. That's a good kitten." He placed a gentle kiss inside Tal's thigh, and his cock twitched in response, both to the praise and the kiss.

The Master slid a wedged cushion beneath his arse, propping him up for better access. It put a strain on his back and legs, and made him feel even more vulnerable than the restraints themselves. Too, it forced his balance backward onto his upper back, pressing his wounds all the more heavily into the bed.

However, something soon distracted him from all of that. A cool pressure captured his attention as the Master began sliding something into him. He had a silent thought of thanksgiving that the dom had listened and furthermore believed him when he had outlined that he required no preparation; the one-two-three fingers game was aggravating at the best of times for one who controlled the tension and dimensions of his own arsehole, and downright torturous at the worst, when all he wanted was a solid pounding. Now was quickly turning into one of the latter times, so it was especially lovely to just get on with things. (Besides, he was pretty sure that that precise configuration of prep was mostly for bad fanfiction, anyway.)

Master Rodger did seem to be taking his time, though. Dantalion wiggled mutinously, fighting for purchase against his restraints. The wedge kept him too off balance to do anything of use, however. "Please."

The Master resumed his pacifying noises, but also the stroking of Tal's cock, which at least put an end to the squirming. And, soon enough, the toy was inserted to its full length. "Sir, please," Tal huffed, kicking one of his legs down against the bed with the little range of motion he had. The not-quite-burn of the stretch inside him was tantalising, but nowhere near the spark-like bursts of pleasure that would come with active thrusting. He did have to give the Master credit, though; the 'little' reward was not nearly as small as he had implied.

"That's beautiful," Master Rodger reckoned. "Keep begging, kitten. Let me know how much you need it."

"Need it." Tal echoed, still too drunk on himself to look for new words. "Please, sir! Please-please-please." In vain he tried to grind down on the toy, and his failure brought to him a mind-clearing sort of panic. "Fuck, sir, please! Fuck me, I can't--" He cut off with a gasp as the toy was pulled out quickly and rammed home again with force. 

And it didn't stop there; the Master set a dazzling rhythm with both toy and paw which immediately had Tal arching his ravaged back. Nor did the begging stop but for the brief moment of the gasp; Dantalion resumed pleading as soon as he caught his breath, babblish and inane though it soon turned. Nor did the panic stop, for now there seemed to him something he needed more than he had needed the toy, something hidden in the glowing heat that built in his lower body.

After a few minutes, that heat coalesced into something real and attainable -- the prize was in reach -- and Tal's begging turned to hoarse moans. Then everything went silent except for the slicking sounds of the Master's ministrations, and Dantalion came white strands upon his own stomach. He held his breath for a few short seconds, then slumped, panting and sated.

Master Rodger trilled his approval in soft, sweet words, and removed the toy. Still (and his eye took on an evil gleam), he had no plan to stop stroking Tal's cock. A fact which Tal realised all too quickly, as the sensations morphed from pleasure to acute aversion. "Oh, no," he murmured.

"Oh, yes, kitten," the Master replied lightly. "Hang on tight."

"Oh, no." He was already so wrung out! What did this fucker expect from him?! "Fuck-- No, no, no, no, no!" Tal writhed, trying in earnest to escape the Master's hands, both of which were working him with a fervor. The tears were back in an instant as he thrashed about, seeking relief. He twisted his face into the side of his arm and bit deeply -- anything to distract from the shock of overstimulation.

"Color!" Master Rodger demanded.

It took about five seconds for Dantalion to wage the war on himself, to persuade himself to accept what it was he truly wanted in this moment. "Gree-hee-heen!" he then sobbed, stripped of the pretense that this was anything other than exactly what he had asked for and needed. The admission hurt nearly as much as, or perhaps more than, the electric sensation between his legs. His pride was broken as he lay keening and twisting atop the bed.

But, as all things do, it eventually ended. There was a sensory stillness in the aftermath that couldn't be stirred even by the damage to his torso; it was as if thick cotton had been shoved into the ears of his skin. He vaguely noted that the Master was speaking to him in a kind and mellow voice as he undid the restraints and massaged at the corresponding joints. What words were said, he did not perceive and likely couldn't comprehend if he did.

However, he knew that he had explained as much in their orientation. There was no harm now in drifting. He gave a casual thumbs up, turned onto his side, and curled into the fetal position -- where he stayed for nearly half an hour. Everything was so soft in this place, so fuzzy and self-contained. It couldn’t even be called a ‘happy place’, because happiness required more awareness than Tal could currently muster, or would desire to. But it was peaceful, and that was all he had truly wanted.

Eventually he did get up, though. As his sensory processing came back up to snuff, he was more inclined to move, to speak, to listen. For a while, Master Rodger held him, and they chatted about the ups and downs of the scene while drinking water. When they were both sure of Tal's steadiness, the Master helped dress his wounds, at least insofar as they really required it. Just something to keep the blood in until they healed of their own accord. Tal gave it two days. Four, max, for a couple of the nastiest ones.

When all was said and done, Dantalion returned to his office feeling like a new demon. Now he could really concentrate on work. But first he would have to order three very special gift baskets: one for Master Rodger, one for Asmodeus, and (the reason he would be ordering them himself and not delegating,) one especially nice one for Sahar.

[ravenforce]

Begin Again Pt. 1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x OC!Daughter x Surprise!Character

Word Count: 1827

Warning/s:  Nothing? Except this will be a multi-chapter because this part is long AF, as per usual. LOL. 

A/N: Hey loves, I’m sorry for being MIA for a long time. I bled my heart and soul in this fic, and I guess I’m not really ready to end this journey. This fic is an alternative ending to See You in A minute, meaning Stardust didn’t happen. I hope you’ll like it. If you haven’t read the whole installation, I’ll put the links below. xx

Series: See You In A Minute | I’ll Never Love Again | Stardust

Alt. Ending: Begin Again Pt. 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

It’s quiet hilarious to see a room full of super powered being clamouring to have little Asya on their arms, cooing soft words of love and affirmation to the little miracle that is your daughter but it’s also reassuring. Seeing the Avengers, literally assembled for your daughter’s birth grounds Natasha in a way that she hasn’t felt in a long time since you passed. Seeing her family around your daughter gives her the strength and confidence that she can, indeed, do this because she’s not alone, not really.

***

Raising Asya as a single mother was overwhelming for Natasha. She wasn’t ready, not really. She thinks its infinitely better if you were there waking up at the middle of the night to a wailing child after putting her down only half an hour ago.

There were so many days where she imagines you in Tony’s place, offering to take over Asya so she can catch more than a few minutes of sleep. There were so many days where she wishes it’s you that’s making your daughter laugh instead of Thor. There were so many nights after she put Asya down to sleep where she breaks down and cries because she misses you.

She misses your light, your warmth, your arms around her, your steadfast belief in her ability to be good and your constant reassurance that she’s enough. She misses your undying support that even though she can do everything she puts her mind into, she doesn’t have to because she has you. You stood by her, you fought alongside her, you loved her, you carried half of her burden and God does she wish to have you back in her arms if only the world’s a wish-granting machine.

But Natasha knew a long time ago that the world is cruel. So she allowed herself to break down at nights but come morning, Natasha resolves to be the best version of herself to be the mother Asya deserves.

***

Three

Toddlers are a handful, except Asya’s not like any other kid who yells and wails and pulls a tantrum to get what they want. No, Asya is very diplomatic. Ever since she learned her words, Asya has been a very good communicator since.

How she’s talking way too straight for a three years old was beyond all of them. Except for Tony and the pediatrician and child psychologist Bruce brought in, with Natasha’s approval of course, believe that Asya may be speaking straighter than most kids her age because of the stimulus around her. Asya lives with three adults and an eleven-year-old, no one talks to her like she’s a baby. So she doesn’t talk like one either.

At three, Asya and Natasha have developed a very close bond. Even though they live and share common spaces with the Starks, she’s closest to her mother. She loves following Nat around, and Nat doesn’t complain about it. She’s a brilliant, radiant child and Nat loves being with her because Asya, amidst not meeting you, carries on so much of you in her; not just your eyes, and it makes Nat feel like she has her best friend back.

***

Nat and Asya have established a fairly good routine by now. Every morning, Nat takes her on her morning hike around the property where they sweat and soak up some sun. Asya loves hiking with Nat, where halfway she asked her mother to give her a piggyback ride. Nat doesn’t complain, Asya practically weights anything. Asya also uses this time to ask Nat questions about anything and everything under the sun. Sometimes she makes Nat tell her stories about you and Nat talks her head off until they get back to the house.

After hiking, they would shower and then have some breakfast, mostly with the Starks. Nat's lucky that Asya’s not a picky eater. Breakfast is always a joy, the Starks loves Asya especially Morgan who treats her like a baby sister. Sometimes, Peter would swing by to catch up with Iron Dad, and his adoptive siblings.

***

After breakfast, everyone breaks off to do their stuff. Nat goes to S.H.I.E.L.D three times a week to help Deputy Director Hill on things. It has been a careful deliberation and discussion with her family before everyone agreed that not being coop up in the house is good for Nat. Tony only agreed after Nat promises that she'll do solely HQ work, no mission of any kind whatsoever.

Nat brings Asya along with her. At first, Nat was hesitant but Asya knows how to behave especially when she’s in public. She stays at her mother’s side or Auntie Maria when Nat has to step away for a minute.

After Asya’s first visit, S.H.I.E.L.D gave her an official ID that allows her to enter the premises. On her second visit, Maria gave her a tailored S.H.I.E.L.D uniform with ‘Romanova-Y/L/N' embroidered on it, which she insisted on wearing every time they go to work. Asya strutting around the HQ in her uniform gave her power over all agents on duty, Director Fury included. Nat rolls her eyes lovingly every time Asya bats her long eyelashes to get everyone to scram and procure whatever she wants.

“She is truly both yours and Y/N's daughter,” Maria commented after sitting next to Nat on the command center and watching Asya interact with the other agents.

“I’m scared that she’s this good at three,” Nat said chuckling.  

***

Maria never asks Nat to stay in the HQ all day, and in the event does she does, Maria always takes them to dinner. Nat and Maria maintained a very professional relationship between them in the past but without you and before Asya, Nat became more reclusive which worried her family. So Maria took a chance at friendship the moment she heard about Asya. Nat was surprised when Maria herself, without Nick, came down with flowers to congratulate her. They’ve become really good friends since then.

If Nat's dismissed from HQ early, Nat always brings Asya to Stardust Diner – your favorite - either before or after they go to a museums, library and/or the aquarium. Asya’s sense of wonder came from you, which only makes Nat fall in love with your little miracle more.

***

At night, a part of their nightly rituals is either Nat reading one of your books or showing her the scrapbook the team made to Asya. It’s a collection of photos with you that they’re able to unearth on their camera rolls. Most of them are hilarious, especially those photos of you goofing around with the boys. Some of them are downright sweet, like the photo of you and Wanda cuddling one movie night or the photo of you on Thor's back when you sprained your ankle after a recon mission. Looking at the photos always reminds Nat that she’s not grieving alone, the whole team, the whole family lost you too.

Sometimes it’ll be overwhelming for Nat, and Asya - bless her attentiveness and empathy - would close the scrapbook herself and cuddle her mother. On nights like this, Asya always ends up sleeping over in Nat’s room.

“It’s okay mama, I miss mom too,” Asya would murmur half asleep as she lay on Nat’s chest.

Even though it still hurts, Asya’s presence never fails to soothe her aching heart and soul. With Asya secure in her arms, Nat still sleeps with some semblance of peace.

***

Five

Life will keep moving forward whether you get on it or not but life was put on hold one morning after everyone received Thor’s request for an emergency meeting at HQ. The tension in the room is so thick, one can cut it with a plastic spoon. Tony’s pacing the room, Carol’s bouncing her leg on her seat, even Bucky’s tapping his fingers on the table.

“Relax. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Nat tried to assure the team.

“I don’t know how to relax. The last time we were all in the same room the world was ending,” Tony whispered through gritted teeth. Pepper put a hand on his shoulder and he instantly stopped moving and sighed.

“Maybe I should go check on Thor?” Carol asked as she rises from her chair, unable to sit still any longer. She’s nervous too, Tony’s right the last time they were all gathered together they lost you and Vision.

Just as Carol changed into her Captain Marvel uniform, an alarm sounded in the room; signaling Thor’s spaceship landing in the compound. Their collective hearts hammered as strong as the engines of the spacecraft.

“Finally,” Scott sighed.

***

It took a couple of more minutes before the engines died down. By the time, its entrance opened the whole team has gathered at its mouth. Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill are standing a little further, watching the whole scene.

“What’s happening Nick?” Maria asked.

Nick just shook his head. “Wait for it,” he said.

Rocket was the first to board off, he is still salty as per usual. Everyone gave him high fives. When he got to Nat and Asya, he smiled. Asya ruffled his head, everyone’s shock Rocket didn’t make a fuss.

“You’re in for a surprise, kid,” he said as he handed Asya a space rock. Asya and Morgan's growing a collection, most of them are from Carol. Asya thanked his furry little uncle before turning her attention to the rock.

Before Nat could say anything, Loki and Thor walked out of ship together. Nat tried to read the Asgardians but they’re not giving themselves away. The moment Thor set foot on dirt, there’s a cacophony of greetings and questions.

“Woah! Woah! Take a breathe people, there is no threat,” Thor said.

“If there’s no threat then why haul everyone here? Even T'Challa left Wakanda for this,” Sam said a little frustrated.

Before Thor can say anything else, everyone turned at the sound of another footstep inside the ship. When the person whose said footsteps belong to emerged, every single one of them lost their breath and their tether to earth and sanity.

***

Stepping off the spaceship was none other than you.

Taglist: @natthisback @5aftermidnight

[missmentelle]

How can I be more asertive, learn to communicate why I am angry, learn to stand up for myself, while stil being kind, patient, understanding and forgiving? Especially living in a toxic household where no one cares what I have to say and also I am terrified of confrontation (and I have avoided all kinds all my lifee)

Hi there,

Learning how to be assertive and communicate your feelings and opinions can be really difficult when we have grown up in a toxic household for most (or all) or our life. It’s definitely a skill that can be learnt, it just requires a bit of practice. I understand though that it can also be really hard sometimes to practice these skills to begin with, depending on your environment. If you feel unsafe in your household (either emotionally or physically), it can feel like you’re being thrown into the deep end a little and this can be really overwhelming. Sometimes it is safer for us to practice with other people first to help us gain these skills before using them in more challenging situations. For example, when I was learning these skills personally, I would practice them with my therapist or with a trusted friend by either doing a role-play situation or just writing down a script and getting an outside perspective on it. I also started to gently assert my opinions or thoughts in non-conflict situations (such as when my friends and I were deciding where to go for lunch, or when working in a team for a school assignment). Basically, the point of all this is that it is ok to start small and build these skills up before using them in confronting situations. 

In terms of actual tips or skills when faced with a difficult situation, I have a few that I think work really well when used in combination:

It can be helpful to journal your feelings regularly. Writing down what has made you angry, if there are any other emotions coming up (e.g. anxiety, sadness, jealousy), what thoughts you are having etc. can help you to gain a better understanding of what is really going on at the time. Sometimes anger is just anger, but often it also involves other emotions and thoughts, so if we can recognise those we are often better able to work out what we really need in the situation. It can also help us to organise our thoughts so that when it comes time to communicate them to another person, we know what we need to say. Journalling also gives the benefit of letting your emotions out too, so sometimes you might find that if you vent you end up feeling a bit better anyway which may help to resolve a situation by itself. For example, while it’s good to be able to stand up for yourself and assert yourself the majority of the time, sometimes it is best to let things be if you feel that it will make the situation worse for everyone involved. An example of this would be in the workplace, where sometimes it is best to just walk away from a situation and either let it go or come back to it later, rather than potentially get into an argument. 

It’s important to remember that not everything has to be responded to in the moment. It’s always ok to wait a bit before you discuss a problem with someone if you feel unsafe, overwhelmed, or just don’t know what to say or do. Waiting can give you some time to think about what you want to say (perhaps by journaling, or getting some outside advice). It also gives you, and the other person/people time to calm down if things get heated so that you can all have a more productive conversation. Doing this can make the idea of confrontation less intimidating too, instead of trying to address an issue right in the moment.

When actually confronting someone, it can be really helpful to use ‘I’ statements that put the focus on you, and how you feel, rather than just on the other person. Nobody likes to feel blamed for something (even if it is justified!), so taking this sense of blame away can give you a better chance of getting your point across. People are more likely to listen and take things on board when they don’t feel attacked. You will need to explain the situation using a ‘you’ phrase at times which is fine, it just means that the context around it is important. For example, saying “Last night after our date, I felt pretty hurt when you ignored me on the way home. I felt confused, and I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong” vs. “You upset me so much when you ignored me last night. Why did you think that ignoring me was ok instead of just telling me what I did wrong?”. While both of these examples are completely valid things to say, the first one is more likely to open up a conversation while the second one might actually shut a potential conversation down. Learning to change your wording can really help to get your point across in a way that won’t escalate situations (this is where writing some scripts/journalling can help).

Doing this stuff over time, combined with talking to friends or seeking a therapist (if you think that would be helpful), can really help to build your confidence back up. There’s no quick fix to being more assertive or getting through a fear of confrontation other than slowly exposing yourself to it in a way that allows you to express your needs, emotions and opinions in a healthy way. It’s important to remember that even after becoming confident with all of this, conflict will still likely feel a bit uncomfortable at times, especially if the other person/people don’t have the skills to have a productive and healthy conversation with you. We can’t control other people, but we can control ourselves and knowing that you have done your best in a situation by building these skills can be helpful to reduce some of this anxiety. 

I hope this helps!

Bee

[sunnykeysmash]

S14's theme of Trust: How Global Warming reaffirms the Macden meta we already know

Or, a half reworked set of discussions from my Twitter about the underlying themes of FAITH/TRUST and CHANGE present in this season. Particularly between macden because I don't give a damn for the rest. Sidenote: my twitter thread about trust that takes up half of this post was actually written BEFORE GW came out, and despite that it got reinforced thanks to GW meta.

I apologize in advance if the reading isn't as fluid as it could be, it's hard to order the threads in a single cohesive explanation but I still tried my best. Plus, english isn't my first language.

This post contains speculation that links to my previous meta posts, tagged under "iasip meta". That's where I discuss the theme of change more in detail, not here. They're a little outdated in terms of episode prediction but the meta analysis in them holds up and was reinforced in GW.

The bible = Trust/Faith

So, how does faith/trust get in the way of their relationship? Who has it, who doesn't?

Let's address it. This might be long but bear with me I guess. First we need to address what broke their trust.

North Dakota

(aka the element that broke the link of trust between macden for good, from which they are still trying to recover; and how we got there; their shift in dynamic because of it and how it's a vicious cycle that feeds itself until a breaking point, with no possibility for rational discussion. "How Mac will reject Dennis as a final test to restore their trust")

Part 1: how it affected Dennis

It is my understanding that dennis has been left profoundly scarred by how his decision to leave to north dakota went and he has been blaming the gang for failing to stop him from leaving, and especially blaming Mac. Which lead to the events in Chokes.

Where he felt frustrated at Mac for doing everything Dennis says and never going against him. He's constantly pushing him and being abrasive because he wishes for him to snap and act on his own volition.

Because aside from feeling like he can't trust anyone, and like no one in the gang cares for him, he most of all feels like he can't trust himself. He has been scarred by the consequences of his own actions, and doesn't know what else he might do that could have a similar effect.

Of course a person who can't really trust himself would feel paralyzed, they would not act or do anything. Which is why we are moving away from that, slowly. We need to have this progression in order for Dennis to Realize anything at all.

So Chokes as an episode is sort of a milestone, it runs really deep in multiple overarching events and developments. It's not just fixing macden's dynamic, it's beginning to fix a core problem that stops dennis from reaching macden and that has been prominent at least ever since Tends Bar.

It's something that has been going on in the background for a while, that is touched upon sometimes. Dennis desperately wants the gang to care about him.

So when he is surprised by the RPG on the day that for him is most emblematic of the gang not caring, I think it hit deeper than what we're assuming. His feelings were challenged.

DDL is a result of many things. On the surface it's him wanting to be a dad for his child the way Frank never could for him. I think it was also a test though. If they truly cared, they would stop him. They wouldn't want him to go away.

Now. They don't. That stings. Then things possibly go south in North Dakota. That also stings. It's easy to mentally connect the two and realize the hurt he's experiencing. "If they had stopped me, none of this would've happened" I assume is the correlation he made mentally.

So then he probably thought about Mac, and the gesture he made. He thought that meant something, but then him, like the rest of the gang, did nothing. So he's even more angry at him. "For a moment I really thought he cared, why wouldn't he do something?" Betrayal.

So that to me explains why he's been acting like shit towards Mac. And he's been slowly trying to work through his feelings on the matter, as S13 sorta showed initially, with him not wanting to address it at all for a while, and when he tried again no one cared. He's been trying.

I wonder if it's a possibility that, as we reach the resolution to this circumstance, he will try to bring it up again. I wouldn't count on it necessarily, but character wise it would simply make sense. If he's getting over the problem, he's leaving ND behind. He should, I mean.

Part 2: how it affected Mac

But this isn't just a circumstance that hinders Dennis, it has deeply afflicted Mac too, in a way that is just as personal. "No matter what I do for a person, they can still choose to leave me", it is no wonder to see that side of him exacerbated, then.

Before ND, Mac trusted Dennis' words, enough to let him leave if he said he wanted to, even if it hurt. Before ND, Dennis trusted that Mac would always "be there to catch him if he faltered", that he cared, especially after the RPG moment.

These were true. They could always count on each other, trust each other. ND changed everything, and altered their dynamic in a way that we are still feeling, and still trying to remedy. That Mac and Den especially are still desperately trying to remedy.

They /want/ to go back to their codependent dynamic, they /need/ to. But the way they are desperately trying to is only making things worse and worse, and it's a terrible cycle.

[ The more Dennis rejects Mac in hope that Mac will finally go against him, the more Mac is desperately trying to appease Dennis so that he won't leave him, the more Dennis is annoyed and dissatisfied of Mac's submissive behavior and becomes more abrasive in return. ]

Which is why I think discussing that event is a necessity in order for macden to even happen at all. They theoretically need a face to face conversation to resolve these core insecurities that are getting in the way of their friendship (and possibly more).

It doesn't have to be a romantic thing either, it is just necessary for this conflict to be addressed in order for their dynamic to go back to normal. But that can't happen without a breaking point. We know them enough to assume that they're not gonna just discuss it rationally. It would be the correct way to handle the situation, but they're not like that.

Whether everything resolves positively (as in, their dynamic finally shifting back to before ND) depends on how much they want to stay together and what they are willing to sacrifice or compromise for it. Whether certain grievances can be stronger than their bond itself (and I'm pretty sure they can't, or mac and den would've parted already, long ago).

Mac's internal conflict is likely what will make it so that we have to wait a year. If it just isn't resolved, then he would want proof that Dennis isn't /just saying/ stuff. Den might assure him that he isn't but is that enough for Mac?

How do you resolve a conflict that is basically just a huge almost debilitating fear of abandonment and mistrust of the other person's words? In what way can you possibly prove it wrong?

We know Mac loves Dennis, of course he does. But does he trust Dennis? The way he has been behaving towards him tells me otherwise. He doesn't stand up to him.

Not only that but, more specifically, he's always "interpreting" everything Dennis says, you can see it in Texts for example. He knows den never means what he says, and always has an ulterior motive or hidden meaning. He doesn't take den's rejections at heart too much because he knows they're fake.

So now imagine Dennis has a change of heart. Now he goes to Mac, and he tells him Exactly How He Truly Feels. Knowing the way Mac is used to interpreting Dennis, I don't think he'd believe him. He'd want to, but he probably couldn't.

And I don't think Mac even realizes this lack of trust at all. I think it's gonna hit him exactly as it's happening. He might feel happy at first, then be confused at his sense of uneasiness like he's been used and lied to, like Dennis is saying it to manipulate him.

But that's just for words. Physically speaking, I think Mac is very much aware that Dennis has no intention of ever leaving again, nor can he really. That's how it seemed to be in tggr at least.

The abandonment Mac is afraid of is purely emotional at this point with Dennis. It doesn't need to be a "what if he moves out". More of a "what if he doesn't like me anymore and is using me".

So anyway, about the cycle I mentioned earlier.

This feels like a build up. They can't go on like this forever, they will reach a breaking point. I don't expect them to have an honest and open and calm confrontation and solve their differences before a huge snap of both of them happens, I expect the snap.

You know, either Dennis gets too abrasive and Mac finally "snaps out of him", or Mac gets too submissive and Dennis grows tired of him.

However thanks to Chokes and now Global Warming, we can safely predict it'll be the first one. Chokes set us on a path of Mac making his own decisions, which thanks to GW we know will backfire.

They'll fight, Dennis will be overwhelmed by it as Mac ""leaves"", more on that later, first let me finish my discussion on trust.

I find it suspicious how all the episodes with a semblance of resolution that we have had so far only seemed to fix Dennis' conflicts with Macden. We have failed to address Mac's lack of trust in Dennis' words, even in Texts I think. Especially in Texts.

In Texts it wasn't communication that solved the problem, it was an act, a stare. And we only ever heard Dennis' side of it. Mac at this point already believes that Dennis likes him, so there was nothing new for him to discover at the end.

If anything, it reinforced his belief that Dennis says the opposite of what he thinks, that he isn't honest. Because despite how he's been acting all day, he still saw affection in his eyes, I assume.

But Mac has already always paid attention to what Dennis "really meant", I mean, he does it throughout Texts, thought in the wrong way because it was still through text (miscommunication) and he didn't like to consider the alternative.

I put "really meant" in quotations because Dennis doesn't really work like that. Sure a lot of times Dennis doesn't say what he really means so of course Mac would start interpreting him like that, but there are still many times when he's actually honest. This is just Mac's black and white way of seeing den.

Anyway.

As a result of not feeling heard, Dennis actually developed a heavier and more frequent use of sarcasm. Because if people won't do what he says, then maybe if he says the opposite they'll listen to him. It's a reflex born out of frustration.

Back to the "trust" thing now, because see, all this time Dennis has been acting under the underlying assumption that Mac will choose Him every time. Mac doesn't have this assumption, he has been acting to Prevent Dennis from NOT choosing him.

It's gonna be really interesting, if this turns out to be correct, to see the tables be turned and find out that Dennis was the one with faith. We are used to see Mac believe have it, in god and in their relationship, but ultimately it's Dennis that is trusting Mac to make the right decisions. Which includes choosing Dennis every time.

That's a bigass trust to have for someone who says they have no faith. In contrast to that, what faith has Mac put in Dennis? None that I can think of, he actively does stuff that will please dennis, so far.

"leaving"/"rejecting" Dennis in the finale would constitute, again, Mac's faith in Dennis. He would be choosing something that goes right against everything Dennis wants, having faith that this won't mean they grow apart, and maybe even trusting that it's what Dennis actually needs. And it's what Mac would need as well, as proof that Dennis is serious. Because if he doesn't change his mind, then he is. And you can finally see how the whole season has been constructed as a way to move away from the ND conflict in order to fix their dynamic and broken trust in order to make macdennis work.

This calls back to my meta reading for the first half of the season. Again. This is old stuff. But still accurate.

Some snippets.

I now have a more detailed speculation on how Jumper will go which is no longer the one I had in that meta post, but I will spare you the useless talk and get back to my point. Maybe save that for another post. All I need to say here is that Dennis will be adamant that the answer is SHOULD WE: NO, Mac will want to prove him wrong but Dennis will be proven right, subsequently starting the path for Mac's change of outlook. And what will make him say "no"(t yet) even once Dennis believes they should. Boom, karma.

ANYWAY.

Dennis knows he can depend on Mac or at least he's learning so, Mac isn't sure if he can do the same.

As the two bicker over who had trust in who, and who broke the other's trust, it'll come to the surface, through text, that the roles have shifted. Dennis was trusting Mac all along, Mac wasn't.

Which is why Mac deciding for himself, deciding something that goes against Dennis, saying "no", is the biggest leap of faith Mac can take, the thing that would show us that yes, finally, Mac believes Dennis will still choose him.

TGGR's final part of macden's plot itself shows us Mac accepting Dennis' cynical point of view and losing faith. "I guess we're not gonna get that romantic comedy ending after all". But that is not the note the episode ends with.

Right as Mac accepts that it's not happening, we see Charlie and Frank's ending part of their plot. They're reaching back, they have a new realization. Nikki says that they feel the same way, but they still say no for the time being.

How does this all link to Global Warming, finally?

The Global Warming meta

The jump, the realization, the acceptance, in all the meta I have analyzed in the episodes, it all comes AFTER the explosion, the rejection. First things explode and Mac "leaves", THEN Dennis is overwhelmed and changes his mind, reevaluates. Think of the Nikki&Alexi and Charlie&Frank plot as a frame of reference for this. Think of Chokes also, first Mac says "No", then Dennis is satisfied.

NOW, Global Warming macdennis meta, at its most basic, goes as follows:

Dennis thought what he liked was the sexy girls dancing, then they revolted against him and literally overpowered him, and in the aftermath he has a new outlook on the japanese guys that he once disliked. At the same time as this happens, Mac isn't there to help him.

At the same time, we always see Dennis trying to rationalize his way out of conflicts, and it never working, not with Mac, not with the people in the bar.

Basically, we reach a breaking point in the conflict, and Dennis is overwhelmed by it, Mac doesn't help him in GW, he "leaves", I imagine this symbolizing that Mac finally agreeing with Dennis in the actual final conflict would feel to Den like Mac is "giving up on them". Dennis took Mac choosing him for granted, and he now learns how much trust he had in Mac despite saying otherwise (Chokes) and how much it meant to him. Dennis comes out of it changed.

They both do.

This, as I posted about previously, is all part of "God's plan". Dennis gave Mac back his "free will" in Chokes so that Mac's harsh final decisions could ultimately aid their relationship and trust.

We need Mac to turn Dennis down for the time being AND for Dennis to not change his mind during the wait, for the trust to be restored for both of them. To remedy North Dakota once and for all, and move into the macdennis territory. In a year, aka next season.

So finally, we can see how TGGR, Chokes, Texts and now GW all work together as milestones that set us in that direction.

[nichester]

Review: Extraordinary You

Media Type: Korean drama

Genre: Satire, Horror, High school rom com, sageuk (yes it is all of these genres just roll with it)

Summary: A typical high school girl starts experiencing memory loss, and feeling out of control of her actions. As it turns out, she’s not a typical high schooler, but a character in a manhwa--and not even the main character! Will she be able to change the story, or will she be trapped in the role the writer assigned her forever?

Why you might care: You love meta jokes, stories about stories, debating the concept of free will and predestination, and love conquering all

Why you might not care: You like a show to be what it says on the package, and would be disappointed by a high school rom com that took a sharp turn into existential crisis. You’re tortured by ambiguous endings.

Trope Bingo! Reincarnation/past lovers (it counts!), love triangles, love conquers all, high school romance

If you liked ___: If you’ve already watched and loved this show, and are trawling the tag trying to fill the void, I recommend watching the first season (better as a stand-alone season!) of Westworld, another show that tackles these same questions.

~Spoilers and overall thoughts under the cut~

This was by far tumblr’s favorite drama of 2019, and for good reason! I also loved it, and have very few criticisms, as well as some points where I think the drama went above and beyond all my expectations.

Plot:  The plot was engaging, high stakes, and excellently paced throughout the whole drama (I felt it sagged a little as it entered the final third, but that resolved again by the end of the show to finish on a really tense pair of episodes!). The writers didn’t sit on new plot developments until they wore them out, but instead kept the drama moving, while still giving the time and space for us to see the characters react to the plot (a crucial element that is often neglected when people try to write a fast-paced story!). The ending left a lot unexplained, but it felt like open-ended questions rather than plot holes, and I have no doubt the writers knew exactly where they were going from the beginning.

Central character(s): Eun Dan Oh is wonderful! Very much the main character, she holds this whole crazy story together with her incredible and varied performance. By turns funny, earnest, frustrated, devastated, optimistic, frightened, and head-over-heels in love, she feels as real as you or me. The actress is charming and charismatic, and I can’t imagine someone watching this drama and not falling in love with her. More importantly, Eun Dan Oh is a central character in the eyes of the plot. She drives the changes in the story, and the other characters revolve around her and her indomitable will. All of them are changed by her, and all of them are better people for it. Her own character arc is more subtle, since she doesn’t really change her opinions or beliefs much from the first few episodes (at least once she becomes aware of her set up). Instead, her journey is about finding the strength and courage to stay true to herself despite the increasingly painful barriers that she encounters on her way to self-actualization. The writers and actress together did a fantastic job with a character who is easily one of the best parts of this drama.

Romance: Here is where I felt the story was the weakest. This is personal taste, since I think it worked very well for most people, but I never fell in love with Haru the way so many other people on tumblr did. (This is NOT to say I thought she should have ended up with Baek Kyung--for obvious reasons that would have been Bad). It’s just that Haru had too little defining his personality and identity outside of Dan Oh for me to latch on to him--I cared about what happened to him exclusively because I loved Dan Oh, and she cared about what happened to him. For a romance to work really well for me, I need both characters to be fully developed people with outside interests and personality, and for a lot of reasons that made sense in-universe, Haru was not. However I was a big fan of the way the romance intersected with the other themes in the story, and I thought the writers did an excellent job integrating it that way.

Side characters/side plots:  I loved so many characters in this story, and almost all of them were engaging enough to carry a show on their own! I’ve seen the idea of a second season focused more on some of the other characters, and I would be over the moon about that. Do Hwa, Joo Da, Baek Kyung, and the Dried Squid Fairy had stories that were as poignant and engaging as those of the mains, and they had their own arcs which were executed with skill and grace despite their more limited screen time. One thing I would have liked to see more of would have been interaction between the secondary characters and Eun Dan Oh, which tended to fall away once the romance really got going. It’s a testament to how great the actors were that I missed seeing their friendship so much!

Integration of secondary roles with protagonist’s story: This is a point where I feel that if a drama can’t succeed, it should cut the stories entirely. This show in particular does a really good job making its side plots not only engaging, but crucial to illuminating the themes of the story. Joo Da and Do Hwa’s story contrasts with Eun Dan Ho and Haru’s, and both of them are contrasted with the Dried Squid Fairy, as we see different people react to impossible situations.  Their plot lines are carried throughout the whole show, and are concluded in ways that enhance the climax of the protagonist’s story. The drama would feel incomplete without these elements, which is far more than could be said for most drama subplots!

Tone: Now we come to my favorite and most elusive element of a show. If the show doesn’t hit the right notes for me here, I often just can’t love it no matter how good other elements are. On the flip side, I have watched some real messes just because I can’t resist a show with a strong sense of atmosphere and tone (Hong Sisters I’m looking at you)! Here is a place that Extraordinary You faced considerable challenges and pulls it off effortlessly. They needed to balance the light-hearted comedic moments with the darker, genuinely horrifying underbelly of the world they had created. To add even more complexity to the situation, they needed to communicate the different layers of story to the viewers visually and tonally. (One element I’ve commented on which was a real stroke of genius was changing the lighting in the “stage” to be darker and colder than the lighting in the “shadow,” communicating to viewers which type of scene they’re watching, but also conveying the themes of the show by making the scenes where the characters are puppets more tense than the ones where they are free to be themselves.) Simply put, Extraordinary You excels at tone. It is a masterclass in visual direction and balance, and never dropped the ball in this area, no matter how dark the show got.

Theme: A lot has been said and written about Extraordinary You’s themes, so I’m not going to try to cover everything (especially now so long after the show aired!). What I found so impressive about Extraordinary You was the way in which the acting, characters, subplots, and directorial choices served to explore and enrich the themes of identity, memory, and free will that are discussed in such depth and complexity in this show. Importantly (to me) they didn’t end the show on a hopeless note, despite the hopeless situation they had created. None of the issues are handwaved away, but the message that I got was that love was worth the struggle. Even if there’s no guarantee or even possibility of a happy ending, it’s still worth it to try. I love a show about the importance of love, in all its difficulties and complexity. It was clear from the first few episodes that the writers and PD came into this with something to say, and they executed beautifully. If you have any interest in these themes, (and somehow missed this show in all of the overwhelming hype for it) please check this out! You will not be disappointed.

[spamzineglasgow]

PART ONE: Glitching the Collective Mind (Dan Power)

Figures 0.1, 0.2, 0.3, 0.4

“I am not a nihilist, but a mood of grim, jolly absurdism comes over me often, as it seems to come over many of my young peers. To visit millennial comedy… is to spend time in a dream world where ideas twist and suddenly vanish; where loops of self-referential quips warp and distort with each iteration, tweaked by another user embellishing on someone else’s joke, until nothing coherent is left…”

> This quote comes from ‘Why is millennial humor so weird?’, in which journalist Elizabeth Bruenig (2017) taps into the vein of gleeful absurdity which is emerging in online creative spaces. This insight seems to have struck a chord with creators and consumers of online content, as in response, the article itself has become widely memed. Above there are four examples of this, with each taking a meme that existed independently and reframing it with the ‘millennial humor’ headline. There is a degree of self-awareness to this reframing, as if the content creators have taken the label ‘weird’ as a challenge to rise to. The absurdity of the source material is heightened by recontextualising it as formal journalism. By prefacing this image with a frame that draws attention to the image’s weirdness, these anonymous content creators are wilfully resisting interpretation, revealing their intent to baffle, bemuse, or maybe even unnerve internet users.

> Bruenig observes a tendency in some memes to celebrate meaninglessness with comic sincerity. By responding to the article in the way they did, these content creators have proved Bruenig’s point. The theory is put into practice: a meme has entered circulation where the intention is to be deliberately and playful obscure, and where the individual memes are linked only by their deployment of the same frame. Importantly, for all the incoherence of the memes themselves, there is a coherence to the methods producing them.

> What sparks these acts of coordinated communal nonsense – are the motivations personal, political, or is it a celebration of weirdness for its own sake? By exploring the dark absurdism creeping into post-internet artwork, particularly in video content, this series seeks to examine the latent ideology underpinning the dark surrealism of internet humour, and how its rising popularity changes the ways we think about ourselves and our realities.

-

“...that which was intended to enlighten the world in practice darkens it. The abundance of information and the plurality of worldviews now accessible to us through the internet are not producing a coherent consensus reality... It is on this contradiction that the idea of a new dark age turns: an age in which the value we have placed on knowledge is destroyed by the abundance of that valuable commodity, and in which we look about ourselves in search of new ways to understand the world.”

-

In New Dark Age (2018), his examination of the internet’s infiltration of our daily lives, James Bridle only just stops short of declaring that the internet will be the death of humanity. As well as the environmental cost of constant streaming and downloading, Bridle argues that the internet poses an existential threat in a more epistemological sense, by attempting the impossible task of collating and networking humanity’s collective knowledge, history, and culture.

> This cataloguing is conducted through the use of databases, which media theorist Lev Manovich argues are becoming (if they aren’t already) the new dominant media (2010, p.70). The database is distinguished from a physical collection of items and information by its flexibility, and the user’s ability to manipulate the structure of the content by searching for key words. Here there is a paradox: because it is so meticulously structured, the experience of using a database is one apparently devoid of structure. Manovich notes that the database is “distinct from reading a narrative or watching a film or navigating an architectural site” since these experiences are all linear, and so are experienced by readers or viewers in the same way, with point b always following point a, and so on (p.65). In a database users navigate the information however they choose, in effect creating their own narratives, with no guarantee that any two users’ experience of a database may be the same.

> This same notion is put forward by Henry Jenkins in Convergence Culture (2006), where he says “each of us constructs our own personal mythology from bits and fragments of information extracted from the media flow and transformed into resources through which we make sense of our everyday lives”. The narratives we forge through our online experiences become part of our understanding of the world – and they seem to be creating more confusion than clarity. These narratives are arbitrarily structured, and may contain false information or information devoid of meaning. Also, thanks to the volume and speed of online messaging, language is evolving faster than it ever has before (Press Association, 2015). Information may be conveyed to us in unfamiliar terms, and so be open to misinterpretation.

> Internet users are bombarded with information, little of which has any meaningful or memorable content. Exposing people to a transparent mapped network of humanity’s knowledge, history, and culture has irrevocably warped our perception of ourselves, and our relationship to the world. As Bridle later notes, “the more obsessively we attempt to compute the world, the more unknowably complex it appears”. At best the database makes the sum of all the world’s content feel overwhelming, and at worst having it all laid out makes it feel mundane. Either way, the damage done is to expose internet users to too much information, and this can lead to an existential crisis.

> Spending too long online (or rather, too long outside of the real world) must saturate the mind. This oversaturation of meaning gives way to feelings of melancholic or manic absurdity, or as Bruenig puts it, a “creeping suspicion that the world just doesn’t make sense”. From this suspicion arises a new wave of disillusioned artists, who we will refer to as the post-internet surrealists. Unlike other meme creators (whose work arguably is surrealist in its Dada-like remixing of disparate elements), the post-internet surrealists are surrealists with intent, who respond to one another’s work, and whose videos consistently evoke alienation and absurd bemusement within digitally-rendered worlds. Videos such as BagelBoy’s pront (2017) engage with infinity as a source of existential confusion, and others like surreal entertainment’s What Kanye really showed Trump in the white house (2018) abstract real-life events to the point of absurdity (or make their inherent absurdity more apparent) by transporting them to a digital non-setting.

-

Manovich argues that the database is a distinct cultural form, like a novel or film or building, in that it presents its own distinct model of how the world should be experienced. Unlike narrative, the database is non-linear. Unlike architectural structure, the database is non-spatial. It appears to us as information without structure and without context – in short, information divorced from the reality in which it takes meaning.

> This creates a tension, which grows stronger the more we rely on the online world to conduct business in the real one. It is resolved, or at least eased, by the digital world bleeding into the physical. The world becomes what Bridle calls ‘code/space’, which he defines as “the interweaving of computation with the built environment”. This term isn’t internet-specific, and covers anything which requires users to think computationally in order to interact, such as self-service checkouts, or traffic light buttons. However, its impact is most significantly felt in the prevalence of internet-connected devices such as the mobile phone, which turn the whole world into potential code/space.

> The internet is omnipresent. It is so vast in size that popular indicators of space and size fail to adequately describe it. It’s a hyper-object, to borrow a term from philosopher Timothy Morton, so large and far-reaching that it surpasses the boundaries of location, so and complex that it cannot be entirely comprehended at once.

> Morton is an ecologist, and develops his idea in relation to climate change. In the blog Ecology Without Nature, he describes the hyper-object global warming as being so “massively distributed in time and space” that we can consider it “nonlocal”, not existing wholly in any one place. He writes that when you experience rain you are “in some sense” experiencing climate, but “you are never directly experiencing global warming” (2010). Global warming is too big an object to meaningfully encounter, but to dismiss its existence on these grounds would be ridiculous. We may be unable to comprehend its existence entirely, but still we know it exists through the traces it leaves across the globe.

> Like global warming, the internet is a hyper-object, and the data we glean from it is just a fragment of the whole. When we consider the internet as one hyper-object, rather than a collection of individual data objects, then all internet-connected devices become components in a single global network, one global code/space.

> To meaningfully discuss the surrealism emerging online we will consider the internet not as a collection of individual texts, images and videos, but as one networked whole. Matthew Smith argues that, since digital media work by translating data into “universally exchangeable” bits, “all digital media are therefore identical in structure; like Campbell’s soup cans” (2007). The content of two memes may be worlds apart, but fundamentally they are both the same thing. Furthermore, if they both exist online, they are equally tiny composite parts of a larger total structure. This is not the same as, for example, claiming that all paintings in a gallery are part of the same work because they share a building. With physical objects, there is always the possibility of them leaving the gallery or entering a new one. This does not work digitally; you can’t have objects within the internet because the internet itself is an object of which digital artworks form a part.

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Briefly, we’ll consider a post-internet artwork which isn’t a meme. Crispin Best’s ‘pleaseliveforever’ is an eight-line poem which regenerates every few seconds under a new, randomly generated title (2017). By making the content arbitrary and fleeting, the poem draws attention to its medium, and flaunts its ability to do things pre-internet poetry never could. Musing on this, SPAM’s own Denise Bonetti asks “what is the poem, then? The structure? The algorithm?” (2019), and indeed, if the content of the poem is continually being remixed then the only constant by which we can define it is its invisible network of underlying code. Because it exists digitally, the poem’s structure and algorithm are indistinguishable – the algorithm is the structure. And it’s not a structure in its own right, but one small part embedded within the hypertext of the internet as a networked whole.

> The internet is a database of databases, one giant non-spatial structure too large to pigeonhole, but within which we can observe trends. It will be useful to conceptualise the internet as one giant work of art, a hyper-artwork with an uncountable number of authors and viewers. This artwork is mutable, and continually evolving. Since the internet is a network of information relating to the real world, it might be considered a reconstruction of reality. The internet then is a constantly changing map of the world, and if we consume its content on a daily basis, and if we never distance ourselves from its code/space, it throws our understanding of the world into a constant state of flux.

> This uncertainty, and the anxiety or absurdity arising from it, is key to understanding the work of the post-internet surrealists. BagelBoy’s icced (2017) might be set in the real world, but there’s no way to be certain. The plot is simply that a man goes to a store, buys a cola, then goes home to drink it, but through means of information saturation and a post-internet aesthetic these events are abstracted beyond relatability and almost beyond recognition. The film’s world is constructed out of PNG images, stock photos and text boxes – spoken words appear as text, characters glide across the screen at will, and at the end the film’s entire diegesis is hijacked by an advert. Either the video is deconstructing real-world events by moving them to a digital setting, or it’s physically depicting a virtual interaction (typing replaces speech online, people navigate between internet sites without physically moving, and adverts can materialise from anywhere at any moment with no prior warning). Like the explicitly surreal memes we’ll encounter in future instalments, icced presents an absurd but coherent depiction of code/space, a version of reality infused with internet logic.

> But before we examine these surreal memes in detail we’ll go briefly to the very beginnings of cinema, a period of experimentation and genre consolidation similar to that occurring in online spaces today. By examining the developments of early cinema and viral video in tandem, we’ll see that giving consumers the power to create and share their own work makes profit a less important factor in filmmaking, and that this fundamentally changes the kind of video content which gets produced and distributed.

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The prototype digital cinema emerging today may seem worlds apart from the first few years of cinema itself, but in fact the two share many common features. One scholar notes how “Both films of early cinema and online video clips are short films, mostly staying well under ten minutes in length” (Broeren, 2009). These short films were exhibited collectively in cinema’s early days (Gunning, 1990), keeping audiences supplied with a steady stream of novel content. Today they are exhibited side-by-side on databases like YouTube, where viewers can view as many as they desire in a single sitting, and sustain their own engagement by varying the content they consume at whim.

> In the early days of cinema, exhibitionists would often “re-edit” the films they purchased, and personalise their own exhibitions with offscreen supplements. This, too, occurs in online film. The media theorist Limor Shifman (2013) notes how “user-driven imitation and remix” as a mode of content production is integral to internet culture, and with video meme creators often accompanying their edits of other videos with captions, active comment sections, and links to other media, the off-screen supplements of old are today integrated into the on-screen experience.

> These similarities are not just superficial – they arise from the same factors. The birth of cinema saw large masses of people consuming and participating in the products of newly available commercial technologies, and the emergence of a distinct online cinema is, essentially, an accelerated replay of this process. Sharing in the same global code/space makes internet users a bigger potential audience than has ever previously existed, and the quantity and style of content produced by and for internet users is determined by the activity of this networked mass.

> Early cinema was concerned with newly-formed masses of people resulting from twentieth century modernity, not just for audiences but also as subject matter. According to Gunning (2004), the ‘local films’ of Mitchell and Kenyon would document crowds of people moving through public spaces, and when doing so they were tuned in to the growing public discourse around newly-visible congregations of people in developing urban areas. One particular style of film they produced, which we will take as out main focus, is the ‘factory gate’ film. These would document workers streaming out of a factory at the end of the day, almost universally consisting of single (occasionally sped up or spliced short) static long shots (LS) or extreme long shots (XLS). While the single take, duration and static camera are the result of practical limitations, the choice to employ LS or XLS is an artistic one. Greater distance allowed the frame to fill with a greater number of subjects, creating a visual cacophony and increasing the spectacle. The framing was often loose, meaning there were no focal points to direct attention. Viewer’s eyes would rapidly scan over the moving crowd, heightening any sense of the crowd being overwhelmingly large.

> As well as directly engaging with large masses of people, the demands of large audiences to see films made specifically for their local area meant Mitchell and Kenyon had to develop a way of turning out new films efficiently and affordably. In order to exploit the collective spending power of the masses, the form and content of these local pictures are wrapped around the desires of the masses to recognise themselves and their towns on-screen. The masses were not only the subject of the films, but also determined their mode of production, and by extension their formal properties.

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The factory gate picture is a genre, and films in this genre are produced by following the Mitchell and Kenyon template: set up a camera by a factory gate at closing time, framing the exit in LS to capture as many moving people as possible. Templatability allows for films to effectively be cloned, so it’s necessary in commercial filmmaking, allowing things to be produced and reproduced at more profitable rates. By following templates to easily reproduce a standardised kind of content, the early genre films of Mitchell and Kenyon reproduce similarly to online memes. Sean Rintel (2013) argues that “templatability lies at the heart of online memes”, and explains that “memetic process is a product of the human capability to separate ideas into two levels – content and structure – and then contextually manipulate that relationship”. A meme, fundamentally, is the deployment of a familiar template to reframe and alter our perception of otherwise familiar or unfamiliar content. It is almost mathematical in its generation of novel content, since there are as many potential remixes of movies and songs as there are unique combinations.

Figures 2.1 and 2.2

> Take these memes as an example. Their origin is the YouTube video Gordon Ramsay cannot locate the lamb sauce (2016), a remixed clip of gameshow Hell’s Kitchen (2005-) in which Gordon shouts at contestants who have not made lamb sauce in time. The video cuts out anything other than Gordon’s shouting, and accentuates the moment’s absurdity by elongating and pitch-shifting the word ‘sauce’.Figures 2.1 and 2.2 combine elements of the remix with existing meme formats (figures 2.3 and 2.4) by adding a picture of Gordon and key words ‘lamb sauce’ and ‘located’, either in reference to the video, or to other memes derived from it. These memes were created by reshaping the source material to fit another meme template.

> The prominence of the remix in post-internet art produces huge amounts content which can only be fully understood in relation to other content. Memes function like in-jokes, and in this way they are participatory. The collaboration and participation between an unknowable number of anonymous contributors is part of the enjoyment not just of post-internet surrealism, but of all memes. It’s like shouting into the abyss and waiting to see what echoes back. The communication is rapid and blind, and sublime.

> In commercial cinema templates are used to maximize profits, so it might seem contradictory that they have been embraced by meme makers. But, in online spaces, the use and misuse of templates is what makes the art form participatory. Just as the viewers of local films would attend screenings to see themselves projected, thus participating in the production of the product they consume, so internet users riff off each other’s jokes and meme formats as a way of contributing to the continual evolution of a meme they enjoy.

> It has been argued by film historian Charles Musser (1990) that “modern” cinema begins with the birth of the nickelodeon, the implication of this being that modern cinema is necessarily commercial, whereas pre-cinema films were not. This distinction might be crude, since films were being produced for profit before the nickelodeon came into fashion, but it’s a helpful distinction to make. What makes the form, content, and distribution of pre-cinema and post-internet film resemble each other so closely is the same thing that makes them dissimilar to industrial filmmaking: they’re not driven by profit, but by novelty for its own sake; they are not produced by companies of people, but by small teams or individual auteurs; they experiment with newly-accessible technologies to see what effects can be created; and importantly, since they do not rely upon the systems of capitalism to support their growth and distribution, these films can afford to scrutinise these systems rather than reinforce their ideology.

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> Today’s advances in affordable camera technology, internet access, and free video editing software have shifted the power of content creation away from industry and into the hands of consumers. Anyone with a smartphone can be an auteur, and anyone with a wifi password can become a distributor. Creating and sharing content is easier than it’s ever been before, and developments within the medium now occur at a rate too fast to thoroughly document. The continual crossing of templates and content items produces countless proliferations and variations of existing memes each day. These memes are characterised by hyper-intertextuality, each new remix a thread that further thickens the intertextual tapestry.

> In his seminal essay The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, Walter Benjamin (1982) observes that as reproduction of artworks becomes more common, artworks are increasingly “designed for reproducibility”. With the emergence of templatability and ease of creating and sharing content in online spaces, this process is now more efficient than ever.

> Any image or video online can be downloaded in seconds, and a number of user-friendly picture and video editing programmes come pre-installed on most commercial computers. Mechanical reproduction allowed for films to be copied with ease and re-shaped at will, spawning a number of variants which today is unknowable, since many will not have been preserved. Online however everything is preserved, and this coupled with more efficient and accessible methods of reproducing and adapting works means that videos can be adapted, and their adaptations adapted, at such great volume and speed that they can quickly bear no resemblance to their origins. Cataloguing all the varieties of meme is an unfeasibly large task, but by examining trends within meme-making we can observe how the nature of an artwork changes, becoming more amorphous and apparently meaningless, in an age of digital reproduction.

~

Tune in later this week when we’ll be looking at ~ v a p o r w a v e ~, and navigating the maze of digital non-places and non-times which is rapidly becoming less distinguishable from the world we live in today.

Full list of works cited plus bonus discography are available here. 

This is part one of a three part series. Part two is available here and part three available here. 

~

Text: Dan Power

Published 5/10/19

[keyfyapmak]

Proud?

When I was 17, my mother and I sat on my bed in my room in Ankara: the wall was covered, corner to corner, with fine art prints. It was the backdrop to my mother as we chatted casually, on some weekend morning. “What would you do if I married a woman?” I had asked, not even aware of not being straight at the time; it was genuinely a hypothetical question. She paused, took a breath, and looked aside thoughtfully. “Well”, she said, “I’d be sad about two things: one, the way that the world would treat you. And two, that I wouldn’t have natural grandchildren.”

And that was that. Two perfectly reasonable fears, one of which doesn’t even apply (Mum you doknow that IVF exists right?). That simple answer, which she probably doesn’t even remember responding with, ensured that I would live my entire life free from insecurity about my sexuality. It cemented itself deep in my brain, and I knew without a single wavering doubt that my mum would accept that part of me unconditionally. And that’s exactly what happened when I accidentally came out to her last month. We were talking about a queer arts event, when my mum offhandedly said ‘but wouldn’t you be the only straight one taking part?’.

Turns out the countless hints I had left over the years never hit home. I have always been content with the idea that I have never had to really ‘come out’, that I just dated as I pleased, and dropped enough hints or casual mentions that everyone probably knew or guessed and that was good enough for me, and if they assumed I was straight I wasn’t really bothered either. For me sexuality has always been more connected to my dating life than an intrinsic part of my identity, so I genuinely have never really cared, or thought much about it. But suddenly here I was, lounging on my sofa in the middle of a conversation with my mum, about to come out. I paused, chose my tactic, and went for it.

“Oh no Mum, I’m not straight,” I replied, with a casual smiling condescension.

“Oh right,” she replied. “But you’ve had so many boyfriends?”

Later I would look back and wish I had replied with “Just because I’m not straight, doesn’t mean I have good taste,” for extra comedic retelling value, but instead I just went, “yeah I know.” I then moved the conversation along swiftly as if we had just discussed what I was planning to have for breakfast. This was exactly how I would have wanted to come out: casually, with no anxiety, no big deal. But my casual demeanour dropped as the conversation came to an end. I blurted out, “Mum! Before you go I just want to say I didn’t tell you because I never bothered to because you never gave me a reason to be scared about it, and that’s why I’m so ok about it, because of you, thank you, I love you.” She paused again, and as I was halfway out the door to let a friend in, she finished with “But you know I would always love you anyways, of course.” And I did. Of course I did.

My mother happened to be visiting my godparents at the time, a gay couple, who called me some weeks later. They told me how she had come down the stairs, sat down at breakfast slightly dazed, and relayed the conversation back to them. “Just like that?!” They had asked her, incredulously. “Yes, just like that.”

‘Just like that’ is how I planned to continue as well. I didn’t like the idea of one one or two people knowing, because now it felt like a secret. I decided to suck it up, and consciously come out to my aunt as well. I did this while putting on liquid eyeliner, with her on speakerphone. “Oh by the way,” I added at the end of a conversation, “I told Mum I wasn’t straight because it just came up, and I didn’t want it to be a secret, so now you know too.” My aunt didn’t even pause before saying “Oh, I kind of figured.” At least someone in my family has a gaydar. I completed a perfect wing-tip, and hung up. Two down. That would do for now.

That casual tone, that implication that it simply isn’t a big deal or interesting enough to warrant a conversation, is how I have always viewed my sexuality. For me, it simply isn’t. Perhaps pride is something that comes from struggle, and I hadn’t struggled. I didn’t feel like I had earned something that I was just born with, and hadn’t fought for. And I suppose that’s why, after a lifetime of safely not caring about being bisexual, I finally encountered the one thing that would shatter that comfort:

Other queers.

I have spent my life moving country, on the periphery of all communities and groups. With the exception of my university friends, who I cemented my heart to in a way I haven’t with any other groups of people, I generally keep at the edges of everything. Last September, in a Facebook thread, I mentioned that I had written a poem about how inconsequential it was for me to be bi. I was surprised that this led to me being immediately booked to perform said poem at the annual Bi+ Ireland Bi+ Visibility Day event. I was even more surprised when, at my first ever queer event, I won the award for bi visibility. Me! The person who at the time had no coming out story, and spent my life comfortably under the radar! I remember meeting new people who I immediately liked, who made me laugh with terrible puns, and with great taste in tropical shirts. It felt strange, being in a room with people ‘like me’. I didn’t really know what that even meant.

After that initial dipping a toe in, I went a step further and joined the Bi+ Ireland Facebook group. I suppose that’s where things started rubbing up against insecurities I didn’t know I had. The group itself is lovely, and supportive. I was drowning in a sea of posts about bi colours, and queer in-jokes, and flags I didn’t know existed. It reminded me of how when I was in the bathroom during the Bi Visibility event, I overheard two people talking about queerness, with a confident and casual hold over terms and references and in-jokes that I didn’t understand. I didn’t feel a sense of joy whenever I see the colours blue, pink, and purple. I couldn’t relate to the jokes, the stories, the coming out tales, or the relationship structures most people seemed to have. It came as a huge shock, after being so quietly confident about this part of myself, to find out that I did in fact have fears about queerness. It was the same fear I’ve had about joining any community. It was the fear that, after all that, after finding ‘my people’, I didn’t fit in at all. Even though the group does everything in its power to reassure people that no matter what, they are queer enough, now that I was in a pool of people ‘like me’, I felt like I wasn’t anyways. My deepest insecurity that informs most of my life is the fear of not being ‘enough’. Suddenly this was tapped in a new way, and ‘not queer enough’ became my new obsession. I finally found something I could relate to with other queers: the feeling that I hadn’t earned my queer stripes.

And I suppose that’s where pride comes in. I’ve never felt proud of being bisexual, because I’ve never felt anything about being bisexual. For me it was like asking me to be proud about my favourite colour. But of course, I’m aware it’s nothing like a favourite colour. It’s intrinsic, and something you choose to act on. The same applied to my nationality, my ethnicity, my womanhood. These are all things I was born with, and so I’m not proud of them. I didn’t work hard to be bisexual, or Indian, or a woman. I worked hard at making a career in the arts, at being an immigrant, at supporting my friends. THOSE are the things I am proud of, because I feel like I have earned them. When I am finally Irish I will be overwhelmed with pride, because I would have fought 8 long years to earn that title. And perhaps I am just that little bit prouder of being a woman since Ireland repealed the 8th, because I knew that despite my mental health and inability to vote, I fought. I put up posters. I wore Repeal merchandise even though I knew it made me a walking target. I still wear an Abortion Rights NI tote bag, because the fight isn’t over. During the Marriage Equality referendum I was deeply unwell in my old job, and so I felt like I absolutely didn’t do enough to canvas, or help, or fight for that glorious outcome. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? The fight? How could I be proud of something I didn’t fight for?

So here I am. On Pride morning, in 2019, trying to figure out what I am proud of. And I think I am starting to figure that out. Yes, pride seems to come from coming out the other side of a struggle, and I realise, there are fights I haven’t fought yet. I am not proud of my nationality because I haven’t begun working through my cultural identity issues and insecurities. I’m not proud of being bisexual because I still am so distanced and a little baffled at my own sexuality that I don’t feel ownership over it. I haven’t done enough work on the things I was born with because I feel like I didn’t earn them. And the fight in this case isn’t on the streets, or with facebook posts, or by canvassing strangers. It’s a conflict I haven’t resolved in myself, and I suspect once I am on the other side of that struggle, a sense of pride will come naturally. I may be very late in the game coming to terms with myself, but better late than never.

In the meantime, I have a very bright pink pair of trousers and a tasteful tropical shirt to put on, and a March to attend. Even that small step might be something to be proud of.

[amysubmits]

Communication

On top of the new-normal of the emotional stuff going on, we had a big party to attend (no fun for these introverts), I had a big high-stakes work project deadline, our oven caught itself on fire, and disappointing news came at the 6th doctor’s visit we took my dad to for the week. Yes, 6 appointments in 1 week. So we’ve kinda been running on empty. 

I find that we often end up having long heart-to-hearts when we are emotionally drained yet energized by the stress of the day. We talked for a long time last night. At first just pouring out emotional thoughts about all sorts of things, but eventually turning to our relationship. I guess our version of a meta-talk.  

We had a couple of situations recently where there was tension between us but we just kinda pushed through in the moment. The specifics don’t matter too much, but basically, I had some questions about plans @cynicaldom had made for us and when I asked those questions he didn’t answer the specific questions he just said he had it figured out. I knew in the moment he was upset but I didn’t know why, I chalked it up to general stress. It’s so unusual for him to react that way to questions from me. He’s usually all about encouraging me to ask questions if I’m confused. It hurt my feelings to not have my questions answered. There was another instance this week where I sensed that he was irritated with me but I didn’t know why. Again, I let it go chalking this up to stress in the moment. And there were moments of me being frustrated with him too..including for basically not reading my mind one day (yeah, thats crazy unreasonable but my emotions work that way sometimes). I also caught myself “reminding” him of things and not because I truly thought he forgot - but because I wanted him to do things sooner. This isn’t breaking a rule but it just isn’t well-suited to my place in our relationship. 

We were able to piece together that I am certainly questioning him and sort of double-checking him a lot more than I usually do. This makes him feel like I don’t have confidence in his leadership or I don’t trust him, which hurts him. He is fueled by my confidence and trust in him and isn’t used to me second-guessing him all the time, so that feels like a bit of an insult right now. I explained how I am not at all feeling like I've lost confidence in his leadership. I don’t feel like he has changed or is doing anything wrong. I feel like he’s doing a good job as my partner and my Dom, especially given all that we have going on. Yet I don’t feel as comfortable and secure as I usually do. The stress makes me anxious and when I’m anxious it makes me second-guess things, double-check things. When little things around the house get fixed quickly it gives me a lot of confidence that he’s in a good place and has a good grasp on things. If he can jump on little side projects he clearly is in a good place having everything else handled well first. That hasn’t been happening lately. When little things go wrong and they he can’t immediately tend to them - broken faucets, even replacing light bulbs that I can’t reach, whatever it may be - a fear sets in that he’s overwhelmed. This makes me anxious which makes me second-guess him more. But it also brings up insecurities or guilt. If he's overwhelmed and he’s doing some things for me, maybe I should “help” by taking back some of that control. Except he doesn’t want me to - leading me makes him feel good, so taking it back is an insult to him. Yet my instincts tell me I am burdensome if he is stressed for any reason because I just have a deep insecurity about being a burden.

So we both understand what is going on. He isn’t able to do little fix-it things around the house very quickly which removes some of my comfort and security. I’m anxious from stress in general, but that adds a little to it that is specific to our D/s, and I am worried about burdening him right now due to his stress level, so I’m questioning him more to double-check that he has things handled. This makes him feel like I don’t trust him, which hurts him. So neither of us are getting all of what we want, and neither of us feel like we can just “act normal” right now. So we see the issue but we can’t really resolve it. He can’t just do all the things as he would never sleep or have a chance to relax and breathe. I can’t just stop questioning him at all because I need to air concerns when they feel genuine even if they logically aren’t.

We also talked about our sex lives. We’ve both seen changes in our sex drives. With sex, orgasms and spanking all three I’ve been all over the place, from super needy to disinterested. Sometimes swinging from one extreme to the other in the same day or same afternoon. Again, nothing to easily ‘fix’ here but it was nice to air that we are both conscious of these changes and trying to work around them as best we can, trying to fulfill needs and desires when we reasonably can. This hasn’t been an issue for either of us, we’ve just run on instinct but I knew things had been a little abnormal for us so it was nice to know he saw it too but was okay with it too. 

So, we didn’t really have any answers. Still, we were able to both express how we are longing for a bit more than we can manage right now, and we are both a little hurt by each other here and there even though we know we are both trying our best. It helps to air out that sadness together and to express understanding in each other, to recognize how our iprefections are impacting the other person. It was nice to openly tell each other that we see the effort we are both putting forth, to address how neither of us are being selfish or ill-willed towards each other. That we both miss our normal but we simply can’t have it right now. We talked about how we feel like we are doing really well overall. How this is hard, but we are both feeling like true partners through this, that neither of us feel alone or rejected. That we are doing well all things considered, that we are just in a tough place right now but we are trying. 

I think this as one of few times where we discussed hurts or longing for more than we were getting where we didn’t walk away with a plan for some sort of change. It still felt reassuring and affectionate to communicate super openly even though there isn’t much we can do but keep moving forward. Communication is often great for solving problems but it’s still a nice form of intimacy even when we are just kinda stuck in a tough spot for a while. 

[megatentious]

Shin Megami Tensei 3 Nocturne is still incredible

I just finished a replay of Shin Megami Tensei 3 for the first time in a decade, so I felt compelled to write a big long unstructured essay about it where I’m going to sound like an overwrought crazy person. That’s okay though. There’s just something about this game that really speaks to those of us who find our way in. When you sound like a hyperbolic cultist writing soaring prose to try to meet the game at its level, it’s not a unique reaction. We’ve all been spellbound in the same way, the game is designed to do it. How is it designed to do this? Basically, in every conceivable way! The music and sound composition, the moment-to-moment battling, the environmental art and location choices, the progression systems for both the protagonist and demon fusions, the scope and method of storytelling, the density and depth of the mythological references, everything fits together like a symphony to inspire these feelings. Tension, immersion (lol), and utter absorption. Nocturne is a clinic in how to structure every aspect of your game around a unified vision (finding the strength to survive in a cruel and barren land) without hugely compromising ambition. That this level of design can be sustained over the course of 50 hours for the average playthrough and 70 for those of us determined to reach the lowest depths of the game’s enormous optional (!) Amala dungeon is insanely remarkable. Some of the more adolescent fans of the Shin Megami Tensei series and the broader Megaten franchise lionize this one in particular as being the most “dark” but that’s a kind of stupid and narrow way of looking at it. If you’re a cool person you don’t love Nocturne because it’s “dark” you love it because the game makes you feel like you’re hallucinating. SMT3 is unconcerned with providing detailed exposition and light-hearted character moments, but it’s a game that is overrun with “story” at every turn. And not just in the environmental, piece-it-together Souls series storytelling sense people love to talk about, there are actually a bunch more NPCs around straight up delivering dialogue for you than you’d think! Pair that up with the demon chatting, the compendium entries, the audiovisual cues and the gorgeously directed cutscenes, and the common complaint that SMT3 has no story just seems like nonsense to me. The game isn’t necessarily just dour or unambiguously somber either. Megami Tensei’s roots are in the pulpy trash of 80s light novels, and you see this in some of the humorous demon-focused crassness, the bits of comedic negotiation dialogue, and the seeming mish-mash of myth as aesthetic influences. But the funny paradox of SMT3 is that it’s a game built on a punk-rock foundation of rebelling against what’s proper and mainstream (see any interview with the creators) that is also simultaneously downright austere by today’s standards. Grand and lonely and visionary in tone, careful, measured and meticulous in its design, without an ounce of bloat, nothing wasted or incoherent, it’s just so impressive on every level (I promise I’ll get more specific with my gushing soon). There’s an attitude among some Megaten fans that Nocturne is the one that doesn’t fit in the series, that it’s too different from previous Shin Megami Tensei games, but I don’t think that’s right. To me there’s a very clear throughline, it’s just Nocturne’s antecedents aren’t necessarily found in its immediate numbered predecessor. When it comes to the main and numbered games in this series, you can very easily see the path from Megami Tensei 2 -> Shin Megami Tensei 2 -> Shin Megami Tensei 4, all of which begin years after the apocalypse has occurred and concern themselves with how society persists and political factions collide decades and even centuries into the aftermath. They are the three most readily described as “cyberpunk”, they’re chattier, they’re a bit more clichéd in their own ways (amnesiac gladiator and military academy recruit openings for SMT2 and SMT4 respectively), they let you use guns and their general sensibilities are similar.  

SMT3’s lineage is, I feel, more directly traced from two other games. SMT1 and (hear me out!) Revelations: Persona. I think it’s easy to link these three games together for several reasons. In all three you begin in relative peace in a current day city, in all three the inciting incident is an occultist ritual, and interestingly in all three the hospital is your first dungeon, deliberately chosen for its uncanny familiarity to create an immediate sense of unease (and also the pretty obvious birth/death location symbolism). These are games centered around the immediacy of disaster and apocalypse, and take modern day locations that are meant to be familiar and subvert them to make them unnerving. Atmosphere is a word I see frequently used to praise all three games (yes there are at least 1 dozens of us, [dozens!] who like Persona 1) and the dream-like, surreal atmosphere in these three games can be strikingly similar. 

So yeah, good lord, Nocturne’s atmosphere. This game is simply filled with astonishing imagery at every point. The art directors managed to make each scene feel somehow weighty and mesmerizing, with aesthetic choices made throughout that are just so thoughtful and cultured. Angels and demons look terrifying and awesome, in that they inspire terror and awe. Gods and goddesses appear benevolent, their facial expressions neutral and lacking in human emotion. Jack Frost remains the best mascot in videogames. There’s well-researched details in the animations and all aspects of appearance (see here for a bit on Baphomet’s posing). The vocal and sonic choices are perfect, like that unsettling blaring soundblast when the statue of Gozu-Tennoh speaks, as if a great and mighty terror is deigning to communicate across worlds.

There are posts that dissect the spiral imagery of the vortex world that repeats over the course of the game. There are entire sites devoted to breaking down the wide range of inspirations for the game's transcendental demon design. Random tumblr people compare the cutscene direction to Ingmar Bergman films, and it’s interesting to see how the cutscenes are frequently in first person or otherwise hide the protagonist, which not only hearkens back to series roots (while saving budget $$$) but also conveys solitude and makes the scenes with multiple demons and figures appear that much more spectacular. On any given day you’ll find a tweet or two or three of people overwhelmed by the game’s aesthetic choices, its virtuoso game over sequence, or title sequence, or pretty much any sequence. It’s the purest expression of a world class artist’s singular vision and is the reason why all of us sound so annoying whining for Kazuma Kaneko to return from his flower field exile.

There’s also a very ingenious way SMT3 supports its themes and that is through the combat. Nocturne is a game about stealing turns. It’s the fundamental principle of the battling, it’s why everyone tells you to keep the skill Fog Breath, and it’s a carryover from the simpler system in SMT1 where the method of stealing turns was using charm bullets or casting Zio to paralyze the enemy before they even have a chance to act. The battle system has a famous Engrish name called “Press Turn,” which is distinct and not to be confused with the One More system from newer Persona games or the alignment based combat bonuses of Strange Journey.

In SMT3, any given press turn encounter depends upon the party composition choices you’ve made, not only the resistances and repels/drains you enter with (two very different things in terms of battle consequences!) but also the moment to moment decision-making of turn management, weighing how to strategically pass to maximize damage output over the course of the fight. Every battle is an opportunity to demonstrate your efficiency and mastery of the systems, and the goal of each encounter is to use foresight and preparation to demolish your foes before they have the chance to even act. Steal turns and survive in a barren land of death upon death, this is the elegance of Press Turn. You’ll hear endless discussion around this game’s difficulty, and encounters generally have teeth to them yeah, but there is a very principled fairness to the battling where combat swings do not occur as dramatically as they do in say, SMT4. SMT3 is balanced perfectly by virtue of its lack of save anywhere option, providing you with tension at all times but also most importantly the tools to mitigate disaster over the long term, which is a deeply deeply rewarding way to survive.

Press Turn’s UI really adds to this rewarding feeling.  How terrifying is it when a boss casts Beast or Dragon Eye, and suddenly a string of new turn icons appear? How satisfying is it to see a row of flashing turns, knowing that you’ve fully exploited your enemy? The enemy composition really accentuates this as well, with encounters often designed to avoid easy spam of single elements or physical skills to mindlessly coast to victory. SMT3 doesn’t want you taking any shortcuts, if you want to take advantage of a given demon or magatama’s skillset, you need to pair your choices to mitigate the corresponding weakness, or the enemy’s AI will press their advantage in the exact way you would. It’s a really satisfying symmetry.

There are also other paths to battle that are just as viable. Exploiting weaknesses with a multipurpose magic build is another way to steal turns. Building battlers around skills that maximize critical hits is another way. And if you are terrified of the infamous one-shot deaths that people like to say are the franchise trademark? Equip null-death magatama in between level ups. Raise your luck. Resolve battles before enemies even have the chance to use the spell against you. Raise your speed so enemies don’t get the chance to go first. Get endure as soon as possible. The tools for success are all right there for you! Nocturne tasks you with growing strong enough in this world to ascend to creation, and it provides you with multiple paths to reach this goal.

So, about these multiple paths, let me talk to you a bit about SMT3’s famously unique alignment system. Other games are lauded for their ultimately fairly stupid morality systems but Nocturne breezily operates on a completely different level. Instead of RESCUE and HARVEST in dumb giant gothic font or literally color-coded paragon and renegade meters, in SMT3 you align yourself naturally through story progression with factions concerned with stillness, power, solitude, freedom, or rebellion. Instead of the grand binary moral choice being telegraphed through hideous-looking “Little Sisters” (god I hated that stupid name haha) there’s a rough analogue in  the actually sympathetic but far more complex unsettling-looking Manikins, whose character motif is described by the creators as representing those who lose themselves to the strength of numbers. There’s unfortunately a tiny amount of material in the game to support extremely tedious “canon” discussion, but the game actually works best and most purely as an abstract, impressionistic vision of grand universal themes. Playing through any one of SMT3’s six endings makes the universe feel vast and overwhelming, and asks you to contend with a broader suite of philosophies than ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ and that’s ultimately what I think the developers were most interested in going for.

Something about the prose in Nocturne is also special in a way that is extremely difficult to accurately describe. Like everything else in this game it feels elegant and detached, gods and goddesses are appropriately otherworldly without sounding like haughty stereotypes, lower demons are funny and crass in a way that’s not so on-the-nose. Again it’s very difficult to pinpoint but something has been lost in the writing of the newer games, even a bit as small as how angels and demons in the game actually never name anything directly as God, but instead refer obliquely to a Lord, an Absolute, or a Great Will, Nocturne just gets all the little details right.

As I run out of steam from this braindump, I notice there’s still an essay’s worth of observations in so many other topics that deserve to be discussed. The Tokyo-focused but somehow universal theming of the game’s alignment principles and locale visuals. The insanely expansive but unfortunately compressed soundtrack (see over three hours of unreleased material alone here), where dungeon music regularly evolves to indicate progression, and battle and boss music quantity is generously varied both between and within song. The extremely rewarding fusion system can be plumbed to frankly insane depths, with a demon bestiary that is reasonable to 100%, and the lack of “use it or lose it” demon quality that hits other SMT series games contributing to a better feeling of progression and customization opportunities. The demon negotiation, which rewards your knowledge of mythological connections among pantheons with unique one-time only dialogue. The dungeons, the DUNGEONS. With the exception of an early set of sewers, an apparent shitty dungeon theme RPG tradition, each of these are little masterpieces of aesthetics and design, with their own thoughtfully introduced and iterated gimmick, planned wonderfully for both third and first person, often wrapping in and around themselves in spirals in that very Shin Megami Tensei-specific way.

Even if you think a game like Nocturne seems too dense or impenetrable or boring or random-encounter filled or whatever, it’s worth giving it a real shot for yourself to see if it manages to grab you. We’re no longer in those days in the late 2000s where the game cost exorbitant amounts of money to get, a digital version can be found on PS3 for $10 (with only rare emulation issues in certain dungeon sections), and the disc itself was reprinted and can be found brand new on Amazon if you have a PS2 or want to emulate on PCSX2, where the game looks even more breathtaking. Either way, find a way to treat yourself to an RPG where it is actually appropriate to throw around the term masterpiece. I didn’t really write any of this text no one’s going to read to make a persuasive case to anyone, but sometimes games will inspire you and it feels good to ramble about them. Games like this one are nearly impossible to make nowadays, and SMT3 is something worth cherishing.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Five Minute Ficlet

You sighed and looked at the heap of clothing in front of you, feeling both disgusted and overwhelmed by the task ahead of you. You filled the bucket with the hottest water the tap could provide, and stirred in a handful of sodium carbonate peroxyhydrate that you’d compounded in the lab into the hot water, dumping your three filthy bras into the mix. Using the glass stirrer you’d borrowed, you dunked the bras repeatedly, until they were saturated and sunken below the water. You set the timer on your comm for fifteen minutes and returned to stir the soaking laundry before resetting the timer.

When you returned, the water was a murky, filthy, yellow-brown. It made you want to gag as you drained the bucket out in the shower stall. You refilled it with hot water once again, and plunged each bra in and out of the clean water a number of times before lifting one out into your bathroom sink.

In water as hot as you could stand, you carefully twisted and rubbed and rinsed the bra, over and over, until the water ran clean. You hung it over the top edge of the shower stall and repeated until the other two had joined it, a row of white hanging against the glass. 

You rinsed your bucket out, and washed your hands carefully before collecting the items you’d borrowed from the science lab and heading back to return them. When you got to the lab, Captain Kirk was waiting for you.

“Commander Spock informs me that once a week, you compound approximately thirty grams of sodium carbonate peroxyhydrate, take it, and a glass stirrer and disappear into your quarters for anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour,” Kirk started, without any preamble or social niceties. “Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are an operations officer, not a scientist. Any experiments that need done can happen under the supervision of Commander Spock and his science team.”

“It’s not an experiment, sir,” you replied, averting your eyes from the judgemental gaze he was levelling on you.

“No?”

“No sir,” you replied. “I’ve been doing my laundry.”

Kirk let out a startled bark of laughter. “Laundry? Is the ship laundry somehow insufficient for your needs, Lieutenant?”

“Well, if you want me to be honest, sir, yes,” you admitted. 

“In what way is the Federation flagship so ill-equipped to deal with your special laundry needs?” He could barely contain his amusement at your admission.

“Uh.” You felt your cheeks heating in embarrassment. “Well Captain, I’m, uh, not sure how it escaped your notice, but, uh, I have, uh, well,” you trailed off.

“Yes?” He pressed you to continue. You swallowed hard, trying to screw up your nerve, and drew in a deep breath, looking your captain straight in the eye. He was going to be uncomfortable, not you, dammit!

“As I said, Captain, I’m not sure how it escaped your notice that I have considerable assets,” you gestured simply at your breasts. “And I wear a specialized size that is impossible to order from the quartermaster.”

You thought you might have been the first person to ever see James T. Kirk speechless, but he was, and he was trying desperately to not gawk at your chest.

“As a result, I own three bras. Not the five that regulations allow for, but three. And I like to wash them once a week. This requires me to make my own laundry soap in the lab and -”

“Yes, well, that’s quite enough, Lieutenant,” Kirk cut you off. “I don’t need all the salacious det-”

“Absolutely not, sir. With all due respect, you don’t get to cut me off when I’m being accused of misuse of Federation supplies,” you interrupted just as quickly. “Allow me to finish my explanation. I compound a peroxide based detergent so that my bras are cleaned and any stains they have picked up are removed. This allows me to stretch their viable lifetime by a number of months. After they’ve soaked, I then handwash them and hang them to dry in my bathroom.”

Captain Kirk drew in a deep breath. “I apologize, Lieutenant. I wasn’t aware that ladies underthings required such diligent care. I will communicate with Spock that you need a six month supply of the detergent you prefer compounded at earliest opportunity, and will ask him to order you your own stirring rod. I’ll have your water ration increased as well.”

“Thank you, sir,” you blurted, completely surprised. 

“If I seem particularly awkward about this situation, Lieutenant, I apologize. It was my intention to discuss this issue with you quietly and resolve it before asking you on a date,” he admitted. “Now I feel as though that might not be advisable. I don’t want you to feel as though I’m only asking you because I’ve noticed your, uh, considerable assets, as you called them.”

You laughed, and shook your head. “Why were you planning on asking me?”

“Because I like your smile,” he shrugged.

“Well, if you’re not telling the truth, I’ll be able to figure it out quite quickly, sir. So if you’re still wanting to ask, I’ll be saying yes,” you offered. He smiled.

“On one condition.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll have to stop calling me sir. I prefer Jim,” he smiled.

[rescueonefinancialnet]

I'm on a ledge and I don't know what to do.

Strap in, it's a long one.

tl;dr my husband and I are currently separating stemming from an argument we had and I'm trying to give space the best I can, but being outright ignored is killing me because I don't understand. I don't know if I stick it out and wait or I just call it because it's hard. I've never worked harder at something before. (I condensed as much as I could, but not to save face. I will offer clarity if I can.)

So my husband and I have been married 2 years, together 8 (almost) and we share a 5 year old daughter. We had our daughter pretty young and as we were still figuring out what we wanted in life and how to get there. DH always had a timeline planned for things, but like most things, those plans changed.

Our fights are almost always the same: me feeling tiny and yelling to feel big so my feelings are heard and acknowledged and DH shutting down because he can't process it all at once and just wants it to be over. This has gotten better in the past year with more resolving, but still isn't 100%.

The first few years with our daughter were hard because we moved back in with my mom and stepdad so we could put money back and I'd have help with our daughter if I needed it. I felt like I was maturing and worrying about so much all at once while DH could just suck and weave so easily through things. Eventually we got our own house and there were still arguments, but definitely cruised on a high note for a while.

I found out about him lying about credit card debt his parents had accrued in his name. Then I found out about a laptop purchase he had hidden from me. Then I found out about multiple other things. And those were arguments. Not because he had gotten items, but because of the lying and hiding snd I felt betrayed. One by one I worked through them and the trust was still hard for me. I nagged a lot. I asked a lot for clarity and to make sure things were on time. It probably wasn't helpful because I didn't realize at that point that it's deeper than him wanting to, it's learned. And then by me being upset, it makes that need to hide things he wants even stronger. I don't want him to go without, but my mentality is we need to save OR it could've been used a different way.

Last year, I chose to separate. Not because I was out of love and didn't want him, but because I was tired of being put second to everything and everyone else. During this time, I slept with my best friend. I spoke to my husband prior to it happening because I knew it MIGHT happen. We had also spoken of this prior to separation and I was offered a "pass". It wasn't what I wanted like I thought. DH realized he didn't want us to be over and wanted to try again. We tried the whole Tinder thing for him so the tables were even because I didn't want resentment. He was opening up more with strangers than with me and that was a big conversation. He apologized profusely and I truly believe he didn't realize how big that was when all I want is to feel connected again. I ended up on tinder eventually too and we were "Open". He never had any luck with Tinder and I sort of did. We had lots of discussions about it and I finally told him I didn't WANT or NEED any of that. I wanted it with him but I felt left behind so I did it too. As far as I knew, we worked through all of those feelings, talked it out, etc. Everything had shifted and we were GOLDEN.

Over the years I've had many jobs here and there. Never been fired. I have a lot of health issues and get to points where I can barely function because I'm so exhausted. He's always been understanding of it but this past year, with Covid and everything else going on, it was difficult. He took a welding job before the shut down and it was rough. Mentally, physically and spiritually, it was so hard on him. And we'd talk about it sometimes but I never knew how to help.

DH and our daughter got Covid in November. At the end of their quarantine, we took a joyride after going to Sonic and ended up in a 3 car accident and we rolled our truck. It was totaled and lucky DH and my daughter were fine, I was okay too but pretty beat up for a bit. Then we found out MIL had cancelled our insurance due to a fight she and DH had. We owed $26k on the truck still and (at fault party's) insurance still hasn't fully reimbursed us.

In March, DH started having panic attacks about work. Mandatory OT was supposed to end months ago and never did. So 54+ hour work weeks doing physical labor, having no time to yourself, etc wears you down. I got a text saying he didn't want to be married anymore, didn't want to fight about it, but he hadn't made the car payment or went to work. We had no money. Rent was due. It came crashing down. And my mind went to worry, not anger. I was confused. We sat and talked and agreed therapy needed to be started as a couple and solo. We'd keep working on our own until then.

We lost our rent house. DH messaged our landlord when we got the last stimulus and never returned her texts so she gave us an eviction notice. 3 years to the day of us moving in. We had 11 days to move out which was ass. We moved back to my moms which neither of us wanted to do. (DH and my stepfather have a rocky relationship) DH went back to the welding job because he ended up not quitting but taking LOA.

So here we are, 2 dogs, 2 cats, a 5 year old, and us in a loft size room in my moms house. Daughter is scheduled for a tonsillectomy, comes and goes without issue luckily. He's moved around on anxiety meds then starts Celexa and changes. Subtle at first but then our friends notice too. DH starts having panic attacks again and is waking me up before work to tell me. I try to console him the best I can, we go back to sleep. He quit the job the day after our daughters surgery.

He's then stressed with being home around my stepdad without a job. Had a prospect but never heard back. The box is getting smaller and the problems are getting larger.

Our 2 year wedding anniversary rolls around and I'm sick the entire day. Like slept til 9 pm sick. He's trying to offer me solutions and I snapped. I was overwhelmed. But it doesn't make it okay. I react too big and I always have. So I apologized and explain why I reacted that way and it's just silent. All I need is a response to know I'm heard, if we're okay, if we need to touch back later. Nothing. So I say "if you can't give me a simple answer, I need you to leave" but I didn't mean forever.

He comes to his cousins apartment. Tells me the next day that he's out. He can't do the fights anymore. It's a cycle. But my question was "what have you done to break the cycle?" And I couldn't get an answer from him. I've been on meds, talked to a therapist. I've put in as much as I can alone. There's a communication barrier and it has to be broken.

He needs space. He lost himself and needs to figure out what he wants. He applied for an apartment 2 days later. Says we can still be friends and talk but right now the relationship is on hold until he's 100%. We need to be coparents. Ok. Heard. But I don't get clear answers on how I can correctly give him space. Everything is silence or "I don't know".

Right now I'm at his cousins with him and our daughter because my mom lost her mind last night then I found out today my stepdad has covid. They're both vaccinated and so am I, but our daughter isn't. I have auto immune diseases. I'm panicking because I don't know what the best course of action is. He was receptive to me coming, but since I've been here, he's barely acknowledged me. I brought it up tonight and told him if I need to go, to tell me. Told him I was confused because he mentioned playing games and then he set the Xbox up and went back to the other room. But he took that as guilting. His cousin has talked to me more today than he has. I picked him up from work and we barely spoke, but he comes in and starts having a conversation with his cousin about work stuff.

Am I wrong to feel confused? He's saying one thing but then actions don't match. I don't want to walk away when I believe these are things we can repair and build stronger with the correct tools (counseling) to communicate effectively but I feel abandoned right now and I don't feel like a person anymore. I'm trying to respect his need for space. I don't want to be here at his cousins but it's the only place we COULD go. And I know he knows that. But I can't keep riding a see saw when I just want to understand but I'm not supposed to ask.

And in no way am I trying to downplay my part. Time apart has made me realize a lot of what I need to work on and I am. But i can't take the full brunt when it's not all me.

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