#didn't make sense to hide it until February

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Technically this is for week 6 of the Ghoulette Appreciation Prompts but. In my defense. I don't control what I want to write about. Right now the spotlight is on the Earth Wives: Terra, Pebble, Ivy aka the previous drummers aka Mountain's adopted moms/aunties/sisters (???) who fucked off from the Ministry to start a lesbian commune in the forest or something. Ivy is trans but it doesn't come up in this ficlet. (@jesusbutbetterrr and everyone else who put the prompts together, thanks!)

Murder wives below the cut.

Ivy is the shyest of the trio. She's as close to vegetarian as a ghoul can get, mostly because even the idea of being seen by a human causes her distress. It's why she didn't last long as a drummer; she was good but the crowds and the bus and the disconnect from her element threw her off so badly that Terzo dismissed her as quickly as he could. The only thing that kept her anxiety at bay was the uniform. Being indistinguishable from the others was her saving grace and she never took off the mask if someone else was present. Something about them knowing what she looked like horrified her in a way she couldn't articulate. In time, with patience from her partners, she grew bold enough to set it aside. But only in their company. Should Mountain bring someone else along, she’ll don her beekeeping hat until she feels ready to remove it. 

And though she loves Terra and Pebble dearly, considers them as good as her own heart she still needs isolation at times. They're happy to give her this, because they know she always comes back. Glowing with her own unique brand of magic with her arms wide to catch them as they greet her return.

 It's on one of these excursions that she killed her first human.

He was a hunter, out late under the moonlight, stepping carefully through the snow. Gun at the ready, he broke through the treeline to a small clearing where she sat on a stump, admiring the stars as she idly played upon a small harp. She had been alright on drums, but a harp was her instrument of choice and there was hardly need for that in the Ghost project. Had he approached from the back, he would have seen the wrongness of her. Her bovine tail, sweeping the dusty snow away. How her dress gaped unbuttoned at the back, corners falling away to reveal skin as rough as tree bark and a hole where there should not be one. He would have seen the private hollow of her back where no organs nestled because she was a maiden of the forest and had no need of it. He would have seen this and he would have turned and left, for his grandmother had told him of the legends of the woodwife and her timidness.

But he approached from the front and saw none of this. All he saw was a woman alone at night. Bear in mind, he had no ill intentions. This is not that kind of tale. But it still ends in sorrow for him simply because he did not see the warning signs and could not follow the rules.  He complimented her playing and startled her so badly, she sent a sharp root up from the earth through his chest, killing him.

Not right away though. He lived long enough to see her approach, weeping and sniffling as she apologized, his blood pumping out over the frozen ground. She could not save him, she explained, but if he had a family then she could make amends to them for his death.

He died telling her about them. His wife's name on his lips and the unnamed child she carried in her belly. Ivy wrapped his body as best she could in her vines and laid him to rest in the clearing. Then she set off to find the man’s family and pay her debt. Every year to this day, they are visited by a benevolent and hooded figure, who makes sure they have enough to eat in the winter and that their fire never goes out. The wife guesses, of course, but keeps her thoughts to herself. Her child is fed and warm and she doesn't have to worry.  

Ivy is as close to benevolent as any of them get. 

_________________

Now, Terra doesn't so much as hunt but lay in wait. She comes with her warnings, her own rumors and legends and her hunting grounds are strung with barbed wire and bright yellow signs.

CAUTION.

TURN BACK.

DANGER AHEAD.

She didn't put them there but she likes their presence and allows them to stay. Her prey tastes better for having chosen their own death freely with no trickery and this sort of honesty suits Terra. You were warned. This is the consequence. 

She likes to call it natural selection.

The forest is different past the warning signs. The undergrowth is crowded and thick with great gnarled roots looping up through the earth and diving back down as the trunks search for sustenance. A hiker might clamber over them carelessly, confident in their map and compass and skills. Following legends of a treasure, hidden deep in a cave perhaps. Perhaps it is even this one, so barely noticeable unless seen from the right angle. The hiker stops and stares for a moment. There could be anything in the darkness. A bear, hungry from winter slumber. A fox, snarling and rabid. Or, if this tourist looks closer, they may fancy a glimmer in the depths as the sun hides behind a cloud. Gold? Jewels? Their fortune, whatever it ends up being. Scoffing at the fear of the locals, the cowardice of a so-called “satanic church” this hiker steps into the cave, boldly going where surely no one has gone before. If something crunches under their foot, it is dismissed as a twig.

But as they go deeper, the “twigs” become more numerous. If the hiker looks down they will see the truth, that they aren’t the first ones in this cave, that many others have sought the same glimmer and all came to the same end but they don't look down. They can't. Too transfixed by the light that seems to grow further and further away with each step.

The dirt of the cave floor dampens. Turns to mud. Liquid drips from the stalactites, gathers in pools and puddles as the hiker travels ever deeper into the darkness and with each step the wet earth clings to their feet. What hasn't been soaked yet is stirred up by their movements, fine particles coating their body, settling into every crevice of skin it can reach. The droplets fall. Splash. Splash. Splashing, steady as a drumbeat as they helplessly wander deeper into the cave.  How long have they been there? Why did they go into the cave in the first place? The glimmer is long gone, they are surrounded by the cavern, embraced by it. It's warm and wet and they are so, so tired.

The hiker stumbles, puts out an arm to catch themselves against the wall and to their horror it is like touching flesh. They look down to see their shoes eaten away, dissolving into slimy strips as the digestive acids work diligently to strip the outer armor of the prey. The dust, once ignored, now burns everywhere, from the tips of their fingers to the screaming cilia of the lungs. Terra is as old as the earth itself and she does not hunt like other ghouls. 

She can't. 

She's just too damn big.

____________

Pebble's the boldest of them and the most mobile. She sprinkles her little traps all over the place, even on Abbey grounds because she believes, like Terra, that those who can't abide the rules deserve what they get. She also likes testing the new crop of recruits every now and then. Enrichment, you know?  

So when the Sister comes to Primo, carrying a strange looking mushroom to show him, he admires it with her and quietly mourns the loss of another Sibling. Not for long though. They're told the rules on arrival with the key ones concerning their safety being stay out of the woods at night and don't touch weird plants. It's common sense. Some of the First’s plants have produced crossbreeds that by all rights shouldn't exist. And it's dangerous after dark in any woods. Still, every year, there's someone.  This time it's her. 

He might sigh and shake his head as she leaves to put it on a shelf to admire. It's too late. The moment she plucked it, spores had been released. She's been inhaling them the whole time she was carrying the mushroom. So he’ll keep an eye on her in the coming days, and take down notes for his own curiosity. Compares them to the other symptoms he’s seen in the past. Sensitivity to light, check. Complaints of headaches, check. Found milling about the halls at night looking for something she can’t articulate, check. He guides her back to her room and she doesn’t complain. Obeys his soft words and lays in her bed like a corpse, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes.  He always wonders what they see towards the end. None of them have been able to tell him.

She is dead by then, of course, but the mushroom has laced itself into her nervous system. Her body twitches and jerks unnaturally until it’s heaved up, a puppet on strings. Her ankles roll with each unsteady step, the fungal infection lurching her body out of the Ministry to where a small figure crouches in the branches. Watching and waiting, yellow eyes aglow in the darkness and small, clawed hands reaching out to catch the dead woman like a long lost lover before Pebble drags her corpse into the forest to feed.

And then one moonlit night, it happens. He watches from his room as she stumbles in the courtyard, clutching at her head. Tearing off her habit and yanking on her hair until she rips it off her scalp in bloody ribbons. He watches passively as she claws her skin away, baring the bone of her skullcap to the moon, screaming in silent agony. He thinks she’s still alive when her skull splits under her fingers, bone falling away like fragments of an eggshell as the fungus hatches. Pebble always did like to play with her food. The Sister holds a small piece in her haking hand, eyes wide in terror before she’s falling, cracking her head further open on the stone, allowing the stem proper to burst forth, unfurling the cap in one awful motion.

Primo shuts his notebook. Places it on a shelf with the others.  Picks up his old rotary phone and murmurs quietly to the Ghoul on the other end. Her family will be notified of an accident, her funeral and burial planned. Closed casket, of course.  Pebble’s always been a messy eater. No matter how often he and Terra try, there’s just no taming that one.

[blue-mint-winter]

Aemond vs Daemon: war in Riverlands - analysis

Daemon and Aemond were the two most important fighters and military leaders for the Blacks and the Greens during the Dance of the Dragons. Daemon spent almost all of the war until his death in Riverlands, first gathering the army, then countering Aemond. Aemond spent less time in Riverlands overall (from February to May 130 AC), but his actions were strategically important, affecting the entire war effort. This post will analyze their respective strategies, objectives, other possible courses of action, reasons they weren't taken and how it all makes sense for the characters and the story. This isn't about specific battle tactics used by the lords, this is only about Daemon and Aemond and their own "dance" in Riverlands.

Let's start with Daemon's war strategy which was explained by him during the black council:

In the Stepstones, my enemies learned to run and hide when they saw Caraxes’s wings or heard his roar…but they had no dragons of their own. It is no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons, and have. Any maester who has ever studied the history of Valyria can tell you that. I will not throw our dragons against the usurper’s unless I have no other choice. There are other ways to use them, better ways.” 

Daemon's stated goal is survival and victory. In order to do that he will avoid dragon battles. He doesn't burn anyone that isn't on his side. He spared the Strong family, accepting their surrender when he took Harrenhal. Daemon and the Blacks don't want to destroy the land and people, especially not when winter will come soon. They are interested in ruling an undamaged realm and having the supporters of Greens surrender.

The lords of the great houses held the key to victory, Daemon insisted; their bannermen and vassals would follow where they led.

As a result of this advice, Jace is sent to as an envoy to secure the support of the Vale and the North. This was their first use of dragons - for diplomacy. Later this early move paid dividends when Northern troops under lord Dustin reinforced Riverlords and helped in destroying the Lannister army.

Daemon taking Harrenhal was crucial for his overall war strategy:

Having no wish to suffer the fate of Black Harren, its elderly castellan Ser Simon Strong (uncle to the late Lord Lyonel, great-uncle to Lord Larys) was quick to strike his banners when Caraxes lighted atop Kingspyre Tower. In addition to the castle, Prince Daemon at a stroke had captured the not-inconsiderable wealth of House Strong and a dozen valuable hostages, amongst them Ser Simon and his grandsons. The castle smallfolk became his captives as well, amongst them a wet nurse named Alys Rivers.

Daemon took the Strongs and Alys Rivers hostage and thanks to that he had leverage over Larys Strong, the master of whisperers (and if my theory is correct, Larys already was in his debt and they had a deal before). Alys was probably the most valuable of all hostages, because she was either Larys' own sister or his wet nurse - a mother figure. Taking Harrenhal allowed Daemon to successfully order the murder of prince Jaehaerys in retaliation for Aemond's murder of Lucerys. Larys as master of whisperers knew about the secret passages that were used by Blood and Cheese, but did nothing to secure the Red Keep, allowing the murderers to slip inside (if he wasn't the one that let them inside in the first place). Then Larys was unable to make Blood confess anything useful about himself or his accomplices even after 13 days of torture. Cheese and Mysery were never caught. This proves that Larys wasn't bad at his job - he had been lord confessor for many years - but that he was working with Daemon in this instance.

With Mysaria as a go-between, Larys also later leaked to Daemon information about Aemond's war plans in Riverlands. However, Larys didn't warn Daemon about Triarchy attacking (or Mysaria didn't relay the message?), which resulted in the death of Jace and presumed death of Viserys, Daemon's son. After Daemon left Harrenhal, Larys wasn't obligated to help him anymore. Besides Daemon would probably hold him responsible for not informing about Triarchy, so Larys couldn't switch sides to the Blacks anymore and had to commit to the Greens. He took actions to help Aegon II by hiding him and sending his children to safety, also he conspired with Ser Perkin and spread rumours against Rhaenyra which caused riots and her leaving the city.

Back to Riverlands. After establishing his base in Harrenhal and gathering forces, Daemon starts his campaign with neutralizing the strongest Green supporters in the region - house Bracken. Blackwoods under Rhaenyra's banners raid Bracken lands, luring their troops out. Daemon doesn't fly to battle, instead once again he uses Caraxes to capture Stone Hedge, the seat of Brackens, and take hostages. Thanks to that he forces the surrender of Brackens who retreated from the battle of the Burning Mill against Blackwoods. He doesn't even burn anyone, even though he could because they're traitors.

Led by Prince Daemon on Caraxes, a strong host made up of Darrys, Rootes, Pipers, and Freys had captured the castle by storm in the absence of so much of House Bracken’s strength. Lord Humfrey Bracken and his remaining children had been made captive, along with his third wife and baseborn paramour. Rather than see them come to harm, Ser Raylon yielded. With House Bracken thus broken and defeated, the last of King Aegon’s supporters in the riverlands lost heart and lay down their own swords as well.

Daemon's actions show that he doesn't take unnecessary risks. He uses his dragon as a threat, a deterrent, to force surrender. He isn't cruel to the losers and doesn't even execute anyone, which should help in gathering support. His actions align with what he said at the black council.

After Daemon took control over all of Riverlands, Aemond made his own war plans in response. First he stated his main objective:

Supremely confident in his own prowess as a warrior and the might of his dragon, Vhagar, Aemond was eager to take the battle to the foe. “The whore on Dragonstone is not the threat,” he said. “No more than Rowan and these traitors in the Reach. The danger is my uncle. Once Daemon is dead, all these fools flying our sister’s banners will run back to their castles and trouble us no more.”

From the start Aemond saw only Daemon as the real threat. He held this belief even after the dragonseeds emerged and fought in the Battle of the Gullet. Perhaps he ignored them because they were lowborn and without claim, they weren't really warriors and generals. Daemon was a seasoned dragonrider, a respected and talented military leader and a prince. With his size and battle experience Caraxes was the only dragon that had a chance to defeat Vhagar.

Aemond's assessment isn't wrong. Daemon is the biggest threat both politically and militarily, which other dragonriders on Rhaenyra's side aren't, even the queen herself.

Aemond's overall strategy, as proven by him killing Lucerys at Storm's End and Rhaenys in the trap at Rook's Rest, is based on winning dragon battles. He aims to fight opposing dragonriders, because he has the upper hand in those fights thanks to Vhagar. His objective is literally opposite of Daemon's who wants to avoid dragon battles unless absolutely necessary.

After the Blacks suffered losses in the Battle of the Gullet and in the battle of Honeywine in the Reach, Aemond presented his own war plans to the green council:

He proposed to strike the riverlands from both east and west, and thus force the Lords of the Trident to fight on two fronts at once. Jason Lannister had assembled a formidable host in the western hills; a thousand armored knights, and seven times as many archers and men-at-arms. Let him descend from the high ground and cross the Red Fork with fire and sword, whilst Ser Criston Cole marched forth from King’s Landing, accompanied by Prince Aemond himself on Vhagar. The two armies would converge on Harrenhal to crush the “traitors of the Trident” between them. And if his uncle emerged from behind the castle walls to oppose them, as he surely must, Vhagar would overcome Caraxes, and Prince Aemond would return to the city with Prince Daemon’s head.

Aemond assumed Daemon would face him in battle which seems to be the main reason of the failure of his strategy in the Riverlands. He didn't identify Daemon's true objective - luring Aemond and Cole's army out and capturing King's Landing for Rhaenyra - and didn't realize that Daemon wasn't using Caraxes to battle, but to force a bloodless surrender.

Daemon, being informed of Aemond's war plans by Larys Strong, sent ravens to his allies. Piper and Vance concentrated on fighting the Lannister army. Additionally, undoubtedly it was Daemon who informed Dalton Greyjoy that Lannisters left for Riverlands. Thanks to that, the Ironborn raided the shores of Westerlands and sacked Lannisport which must have impacted the ability of Westerlands to send supplies and more men to their army. It also completely neutralized the Lannister fleet. Not to mention the lowered morale of Lannister troops after hearing their home was attacked in their absence.

As a result of Daemon's strategy, Westerlands were effectively taken out of the war and couldn't aid the Greens. What's more, there's no mention if Westerlands asked for help of their Green allies. In any case, they did not receive any aid - not from Aemond, not from Hightowers, and that made the Greens look bad.

It must have also been Daemon's plan to send Walys Mooton to take back Rook's Rest and kill Sunfyre. Recapturing Rook's Rest looks good for Blacks, as it undid one of the Greens' earliest and most important victories. It was also a good plan to neutralize the opposing dragon before he healed and became a threat again, however lord Mooton failed and Sunfyre escaped.

Daemon himself evaded Aemond's forces and flew to the undefended King's Landing to help Rhaenyra take back her throne. Everything was planned and organized, the gold cloaks loyal to Daemon knew exactly what to do.

Lords Piper and Smallwood were fighting the Lannisters and slowing down their advance towards Harrenhal. Roderick Dustin's northern forces joined up with Freys.

Meanwhile, muddy roads and rainstorms slowed the pace of Aemond’s advance, for his host was made up largely of foot, with a long baggage train. Ser Criston’s vanguard fought and won a short, sharp battle against Ser Oswald Wode and the Lords Darry and Roote on the lakeshore, but met no other opposition. After nineteen days on the march, they reached Harrenhal…and found the castle gates open, with Prince Daemon and all his people gone.

I wonder about the condition of the Kingsroad, it goes from King's Landing to Harroway's Town and misses Harrenhal. In AGOT, king Robert's court was also slowed down by the muddy road, so maybe this was normal.

Lannister army was on the western shore of God's Eye, attacked by main Riverlands forces until it was shattered and slaughtered. Aemond's strategy failed and the two armies didn't link up. Furthermore, Cole's army couldn't stay in Harrenhal because it lacked supplies.

Though Black Harren’s seat was too strong to be taken by storm, and the riverlords dared not lay siege for fear of Vhagar, the king’s men were running short of food and fodder, and losing men and horses to hunger and sickness. Only blackened fields and burned villages remained within sight of the castle’s massive walls, and those foraging parties that ventured farther did not return.

Without a doubt, this situation was arranged by Daemon who left scorched earth for Cole's army.

To sum-up, Daemon:

took Harrenhal bloodlessly and secured Larys Strong as his spy in the green council,

used the family feud between Blackwoods and Brackens to lure out Green-aligned Brackens, then bloodlessly captured their castle and forced their surrender, which resulted in all of Riverlands becoming Blacks' territory,

lured out Aemond and Cole from the capital and captured it behind their backs with minimal bloodshed, while leaving behind a token resistance unit, empty Harrenhal and scorched earth around it so the army couldn't stay there (not enough food),

had the riverlords concentrate only on fighting Lannister army, chipping away at it in multiple battles, while at the same time setting Ironborn on Westerlands, which cut away Lannister supplies and reinforcements and destroyed their fleet, this took Westerlands out of the war,

his advice to treat with the great houses gave benefits in the form of reinforcements from the North aiding the riverlords,

thanks to all the above Cole army and Lannister army didn't combine,

sent lord Mooton to recapture Rook's Rest (succeeded) and kill Sunfyre (failed).

In other words, Daemon comes out looking like a military genius. I'm starting to think that the smartest thing Rhaenyra had ever done for her cause was marrying this man. It's easy to see that even Jace showing his capability as a leader of Blacks after Rook's Rest was thanks to Daemon teaching him.

Aemond's plans after the capture of King's Landing

Upon hearing the news about King's Landing, Aemond killed the Strongs on the suspicion that Larys was a traitor. He didn't even consider that the Strongs could have been Daemon's innocent hostages. He has a temper and he acts on it, like in Storm's End, and new examples are killing the Strongs and almost strangling the messenger who gave him the news of Lannister's defeat (Alys had to stop Aemond). It's important to note that Aemond's first idea was to fly alone to take back the capital, but Cole talked him out of it:

Prince Aemond favored an immediate attack upon King’s Landing. None of the queen’s dragons were a match for Vhagar, he insisted. Ser Criston called that folly. “One against six is a fight for fools, My Prince,” he declared. 

Cole wanted Aemond to come with him to join the Hightower army and Daeron, then somehow collect Aegon II & Sunfyre (who were both injured and well hidden) and somehow free Helaena & Dreamfyre (doubtful) but Aemond refused, because he considered it cowardly and/or he didn't want to leave his lover, Alys Rivers. I'd say Cole's proposed course of action was based more on his wishful thinking than real chances of success.

Whatever the reason, Ser Criston and Prince Aemond decided to part ways. Cole would take command of their host and lead them south to join Ormund Hightower and Prince Daeron, but the Prince Regent would not accompany them. Instead he meant to fight his own war, raining fire on the traitors from the air. Soon or late, “the bitch queen” would send a dragon or two out to stop him, and Vhagar would destroy them. “She dare not send all her dragons,” Aemond insisted. “That would leave King’s Landing naked and vulnerable. Nor will she risk Syrax, or that last sweet son of hers. Rhaenyra may call herself a queen, but she has a woman’s parts, a woman’s faint heart, and a mother’s fears.”

Aemond's strategy is similar to Rook's Rest - attack Rhaenyra's allies, so that she'll be forced to send dragons to deal with him. He was confident she won't send all of them and that Vhagar could take out whoever was sent to stop him. Rook's Rest proved that Vhagar is capable of taking out two dragons at once. This time Aemond was right in his assessment, because Rhaenyra sent 2 against him - Daemon and Nettles. Or rather, Daemon sent himself with Nettles who he saw as the only trustworthy back-up (Hugh and Ulf's loyalty wasn't secured, against his advice, and Addam was loyal to Corlys who often opposed Daemon in the black council).

Aemond constructs his plans on the fact that he has Vhagar. He wants to use this to his advantage. The failed Riverlands campaign taught him that tying himself to an army wasn't going to work - the enemy will know his location (with the army) and will be able to avoid him. He's not really interested in fighting battles, he wants to take out enemy dragons, one by one. Dragons beat armies and the final victory depends on who will survive from the dragonriders. The lords will follow the winner.

Aemond's decision not to regroup with Hightower army and Daeron makes sense from a strategic point of view. Joining forces with Daeron, whose dragon is small, doesn't really bring any advantages. Instead, they would make a singular target for the combined Black forces. Vhagar and Tessarion vs Caraxes, Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke and Sheepstealer would end the Greens. Aemond and Daeron being apart is more advantageous, because Rhaenyra can't send overwhelming forces against one of them in fear the other would attack the capital in the meantime. This keeps her dragon forces occupied and divided between protection of King's Landing, the Riverlands and the Reach.

Aemond and Cole left Harrenhal and pregnant Alys Rivers behind. Cole's army didn't reach Hightower forces, instead it was slowly run down and killed by riverlanders using partisan tactics.

Aemond on his own burned castles and villages:

House Darry was the first to know the prince’s wroth. The men bringing in the harvest burned or fled as the crops went up in flame, and Castle Darry was consumed in a firestorm. Lady Darry and her younger children survived by taking shelter in vaults under the keep, but her lord husband and his heir died on their battlements, together with twoscore of his sworn swords and bowmen. Three days later, it was Lord Harroway’s Town left smoking. Lord’s Mill, Blackbuckle, Buckle, Claypool, Swynford, Spiderwood…Vhagar’s fury fell on each in turn, until half the riverlands seemed ablaze.

The targets:

Castle Darry - House Darry

Lord Harroway's Town - House Roote

Lord's Mill, Blackbuckle, Buckle, Claypool - they're located in disputed land between Brackens and Blackwoods, we can assume at that time they belonged to Blackwoods

Swynford - belonged to unknown house (maybe Blackwoods again)

Spiderwood - a wood belonging to unknown house

Prince Aemond had become the terror of the Trident, descending from the sky to rain fire and death upon the riverlands, then vanishing, only to strike again the next day fifty leagues away. Vhagar’s flames reduced Old Willow and White Willow to ash, and Hogg Hall to blackened stone. At Merrydown Dell, thirty men and three hundred sheep died by dragonflame. The Kinslayer then returned unexpectedly to Harrenhal, where he burned every wooden structure in the castle

Old Willow and White Willow - belonged to unknown house, but based on the name I'm going to assume it was House Ryger, whose seat is Willow Wood and they have a willow as their sigil

Hogg Hall - owner unknown, it could belong to house Hogg which is in Crownlands, but on the border with Riverlands, or a nearby house Wode (seat in Sow's Horn) which has hedgehogs as their sigil

Merrydown Dell - well, it has sheep, so maybe it's close to the Vale?

I marked on the map above Aemond's approximate path of destruction through Riverlands after he left Harrenhal. I borrowed a map from Atlas of Ice and Fire. As we can see, Aemond most probably circled Riverlands counterclockwise with Harrenhal as a more or less center of the circle.

After Aemond's path of destruction he came back to Harrenhal and grabbed Alys Rivers.

As a result of Aemond's actions 3 noble houses asked for Rhaenyra's aid:

Lord Mooton of Maidenpool, Lady Darklyn of Duskendale, and Lord Blackwood of Raventree sent urgent messages to the queen, begging her to send them dragons to defend their holdings.

Lord Blackwood sending for help isn't surprising as his villages on the disputed land were burned. That means that lands belonging or close to Maidenpool and Duskendale were similarly attacked. I'm assuming that the attack on Merrydown Dell spooked lord Mooton, while the attack on Hogg's Hall scared lady Darklyn of Duskendale, which is located in Crownlands. By coming closer to the capital, Aemond was definitely threatening and baiting the Blacks to take action against him.

Daemon and Nettles were sent to deal with Aemond. I'd say Aemond's strategy succeeded, the Blacks divided their dragons and didn't send them all at him. The problem was Daemon who with a supporting dragon could take on Vhagar.

One hundred sixty leagues to the north, other dragons soared above the Trident, where Prince Daemon Targaryen and the small brown girl called Nettles were hunting Aemond One-Eye without success. They had based themselves at Maidenpool, at the invitation of Lord Manfryd Mooton, who lived in terror of Vhagar descending on his town. Instead Prince Aemond struck at Stonyhead, in the foothills of the Mountains of the Moon; at Sweetwillow on the Green Fork and Sallydance on the Red Fork; he reduced Bowshot Bridge to embers, burned Old Ferry and Crone’s Mill, destroyed the motherhouse at Bechester, always vanishing back into the sky before the hunters could arrive. Vhagar never lingered, nor did the survivors oft agree on which way the dragon had flown.

Aemond's targets after he took Alys with him and Daemon was sent:

Stonyhead - somewhere between Riverlands and Vale probably

Sweetwillow on the Green Fork - makes sense, it's the river closest to the Vale, so Aemond's moving west

Sallydance on the Red Fork - he's still moving west, according to wiki this place has a sept with windows with leaded glass

Bowshot Bridge - unknown owner, I'm assuming it belonged to Blackwoods, because they're known for their archery, and it fits with Aemond moving westward

Old Ferry - the name suggests that it's on the river, so Aemond's probably still following Red Fork westward

Crone's Mill - unknown owner

motherhouse at Bechester (?!!) - location unknown, maybe it's in the lands of house Lychester? Then it would mean Aemond turned east again.

Approximate locations attacked on Aemond's second run (with Alys Rivers)

Looks like Aemond was moving away from Daemon who was stationed in Maidenpool. Another interesting thing is that the attacked locations became less remarkable. Attacking places on the riverbanks, like crossings, bridges, ferries and fords might be in order to prevent Blackwoods from crossing the Red Fork south (maybe) or getting supplies from their lands. Another form of attack on food supplies for Black army was the burning of locations with mills and those close to the Vale because of the sheep herds.

Attacking motherhouse makes zero sense. Two other locations seem to be connected to the Faith - Sallydance because of the sept there and Crone's Mill (named after one of the Seven). I wonder if Alys Rivers had something to do with picking these targets instead of more useful places. Perhaps she didn't like the Faith? It's also possible that septs and the motherhouse served as hospitals for injured Black soldiers. The Greens destroyed the sept in Bitterbridge in the Reach for that reason.

At first, I thought Aemond's second run of Riverlands (which I've seen very heavily criticized by some as illogical) had something to do with magic or prophecy, especially since Alys was accompanying him and probably influencing which targets he chose to burn. Aemond and Alys Rivers very strongly remind me of Maegor and his wives Alys Harroway from Harrenhal and Tyanna, an alleged witch. I thought perhaps Aemond was making blood sacrifices in a magic circle around Harrenhal (like in Fullmetal Alchemist series). However, there's just no visible magical effect that could prove this theory.

The more mundane explanations are more likely. He was burning small villages to put pressure on the riverlords and through them on Daemon so that he would face him in battle, but not enough that riverlords wouldn't be persuaded eventually to switch sides to the Greens later on. The only house seats that were attacked were Castle Darry and Harroway in the first run, showing that Aemond could do it to any of the riverlords at anytime, he was just choosing not to.

What's more, Aemond constant presence and wreaking havoc on supply lines prevented riverlords from joining the war theatre in the Reach or aiding in the defense of King's Landing. He made organizing and supplying their troops difficult and stopped riverlords from making any huge moves in fear of his reprisals. This effect is gone after his death when Addam quickly gathers Riverlander forces and attacks Tumbleton.

Why Aemond didn't try to fly around and attack King's Landing, which had only Seasmoke and Syrax for defense? I think that apart from his focus on defeating Daemon as the main threat, Aemond realized that he needed Vhagar in top condition to ensure his victory over Daemon and Caraxes. Fighting other dragons first, even if victorious, could cause Vhagar injuries. Then Aemond would be at a disadvantage when facing Daemon and most likely lose.

After picking up Alys, it seems Aemond was either running away from Daemon or trying to draw him out, further away from King's Landing. Daemon didn't take the bait and stayed put, keeping Nettles and Sheepstealer close to him. It seems that Daemon wasn't really hunting Aemond, he was patrolling and waiting for him to come. He couldn't allow Aemond to slip past him.

Why Maidenpool became Daemon's base even though it's in the far east part of Riverlands?

Lords Mooton and Darklyn asked for protection, so it allows Daemon to protect both of them (Duskendale is farther east of Maidenpool). On the other hand, lord Blackwood should be fine, so far Aemond attacked only villages in disputed lands between Blackwoods and Brackens.

Maidenpool is close to the Vale, which is vulnerable to a dragon attack. Moreover, Daemon's daughter, Rhaena is in the Vale and she'd be a valuable hostage. The danger seemed possible, because Aemond was picking targets close to the Vale - Stonyhead and possibly Merrydown Dell (assumed location because of sheep).

It's in the range for Daemon to see if Aemond decides to fly to King's Landing (just in case, but unlikely).

Daemon knows that Aemond considers him a main threat as that was his reason for the failed campaign to Harrenhal.

This is basically a cat and mouse game between Aemond and Daemon. Daemon refused to let go of numerical advantage he had with Nettles and Aemond was flying further away, trying to tempt Daemon into separating from Nettles and/or giving chase.

Power shift after the betrayal in Tumbleton

Situation changes after Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White's betrayal in Tumbleton (which was avoidable if Rhaenyra followed Daemon's advice to give them important lordships - Rosby and Stokeworth or even Casterly Rock and Storm's End - and bind them to her cause. They are Bronns that weren't given castles). Rhaenyra is convinced by her councilors that she can't trust any of the remaining dragonseeds and decides to prosecute both Addam and Nettles. Lord Mooton receives orders to kill Nettles and send Daemon back to King's Landing. Local maester informs Daemon about queen's orders. Daemon sends Nettles away and goes to Harrenhal to challenge Aemond alone.

Let's make sense of this.

The betrayal significantly changes the dragon forces of both sides. Greens now have Vhagar, Vermithor, Silverwing and Tessarion. Blacks have only Caraxes and Syrax, because Rhaenyra stupidly can't trust Addam and Nettles. Meanwhile, Addam is the heir of Driftmark and has a good reason to stay loyal because of Corlys. Nettles is attached to Daemon personally. Joffrey is the heir, his dragon is still small, so he's not allowed to fight. As a result, Caraxes is the only battle-worthy dragon on their side. Syrax is untested and therefore unreliable.

Daemon abandoning Riverlands to Aemond's mercy is a bad idea. Without Daemon's presence there, the lords could be convinced that the queen won't protect them. Aemond could even switch their allegiance to the Greens. At least he will continue his efforts to stop them from supporting King's Landing which is endangered by Greens in Tumbleton.

One thing is for sure - if Daemon left and Aemond chose to join forces with Daeron, Hugh and Ulf, it would be a game over for the Blacks. The Greens in Tumbleton suffered from the lack of capable leadership. Betrayers were lowborn and not respected, but they had bigger dragons than Daeron. Aemond had both the status as a prince and rode the largest dragon, so he could effortlessly take over the command and reorganize the Green army, then recapture the capital. Daemon realized that he absolutely has to prevent that outcome. He can't leave Riverlands without killing Aemond.

Thankfully, Aemond from the start is fixated on fighting Daemon and getting all the glory for himself. He's not much of a team player and his failed campaign with Cole turned him off from working with an army again.

Daemon could have tried challenging Aemond without sending Nettles away, but then Aemond theoretically could ask for Hugh and/or Ulf to come and occupy Nettles while Aemond fights Daemon. The tag team no longer works. Aemond won't confront them alone. Nettles has to leave for Aemond to show up without his own teammate.

Daemon decided that Aemond is the most dangerous threat. Hugh and Ulf can be negotiated with and bribed. However, Aemond's mission is to destroy all Blacks and take the throne for Greens. He flies on the largest dragon. Only Daemon can stop him in this situation.

In this bad situation, Daemon had no other choice - he had to fight Aemond alone. He knew it would probably end with his death, so he had to take Aemond down with him. I don't think he was suicidal, just realistic. Daemon was still protecting his family, Rhaenyra, Joffrey, Aegon III, Baela and Rhaena from the worst outcome - Aemond leading the Green army from Tumbleton and having the dragon support of his brother and the Betrayers.

On the other hand, Aemond didn't realize that he was missing his big chance to win the entire war. It's possible he didn't receive the news about the betrayal in Tumbleton. He was constantly on the move around Riverlands so he probably wasn't staying around to chat with people. Aemond found out that Daemon was waiting for him in Harrenhal only from Alys' visions. Daemon was there for 13 days.

It's uncertain if Alys saw anything about Tumbleton. It's possible she didn't. If she did, then she didn't understand what it meant or she simply chose not to tell Aemond. Maybe she didn't want to leave Riverlands for some (probably magic-related) reason.

If Alys informed Aemond about Tumbleton, then Aemond either didn't grasp that he had a chance to win the war if he took the command there or he decided to still fight Daemon out of pure pride and arrogance. It's probable he held a grudge against Daemon (like he had for Lucerys) and was in too deep to abandon their "Dance" unfinished. He put in too much effort into this to just give up without showing any results. Aemond still saw a strategic retreat as cowardly and weak, as letting his enemy win. And there was no one to talk sense into Aemond like Cole once did. Alys was a witch/wet nurse, so she wasn't a source of sound military advice.

Undoubtedly, having Vhagar filled both Aemond and Alys with confidence that he would win a 1-on-1 fight even with Daemon on Caraxes. They didn't predict that Daemon would forfeit his own life to kill both Aemond and Vhagar.

In conclusion, Daemon confronting Aemond was the best move for the Blacks at that point, while Aemond accepting the challenge was all around a bad move for the Greens. Daemon was fighting this war for his family, while Aemond - for his own glory.

.

Thanks for reading, I hope this was interesting. Recommend any good Dance analysis, if you can. I'm open to asks and further discussion.

Next topic I might tackle is the timeline discrepancy between Daemon and Rhaenyra's deaths.

[loupy-mongoose]

Aside from the kiddos, I don’t remember if the character ages were mentioned. It’s obvious that Randy is well established as an adult (you don’t exactly get to working with important biological research until you’ve got those Big Degrees), and the stress of Akoya’s postpartum coma pre-Mewification probably visibly aged his human self a bit, but I’m not fully sure how old his is at present or how old he was when he was Mewified. And the Mews operate at a different “clock” than humans since they rapidly mature to adulthood in only a few years but stay in their prime for a long duration of time, so maybe chronologic (exact time) vs physical (as in health, mentality, etc.) ages would make more sense for them? (If the ages to be revealed later in the story tho it’s okay I’ll be patient).

No, I haven't mentioned the adults ages publicly yet. I was waiting 'til someone asked, mostly because It doesn't really matter to the story aside from viewer curiosity. Or maybe it does, I don't know. Either way, buckle up! Time for a big ol' dump of character lore~. XD

Randy is 37, and was 29 (creepin' on 30) when he became a Mew. His birthday is August 11th. He was taken on as a sort of intern somewhere in his twenties, well known for his obsession with Mews. (I know that I've told at least one person privately that he's 38, but I'm backpedaling on that. He's 37 now.)

Akoya and Persim are a little harder to place because they were born in the wild with no calendar dates, so they have no noted birthdays. They are both in their early twenties, with Perzi being about half a year younger than Akoya. (Semi-related, when Randy first went to Akoya's island, he was 15 and she was about 1-and-a-half. Perzi was about 1 and was hiding from the humans, so he didn't meet Randy back then.)

And just because I like rounding it out; Lav is currently eight; her birthday is May 6th. The twins are three-and-a-half weeks as of this post; their birthday is February 28th.

Aaand, because I'm me and have WAY too much fun with this kind of stuff, I made a (probably unnecessary but still fun to make) chart.

EDIT: I made a boo-boo with the chart before. While mentally Lav is child-going-on-teen, physically she is actually barely an adult.

As a side note, I imagine it's possible for Mews to somewhat manipulate their age appearance, kinda like how Steven can in that one early episode of Steven Universe. Like, as a sub-skill of Transform. Generally though, their appearance takes the form of what they believe or feel they are.

There is an age-related thing that'll be expanded on later, but for now this is what we'll know.

[blubushie]

do you tell people irl you have aspd?

Hahahaha. No.

Listen. Most people don't know what the fuck ASPD is. But they do know what a sociopath is—or at least have their own idea of what one is, an idea which is practically always incorrect.

So me having to tell someone I have ASPD has always gone "Hey, I want you to know something about me. We're good mates and I figure you got a right to know. I have ASPD." And they always ask what ASPD is. "Antisocial personality disorder." And if I leave it at that I get dropped, cause people always look it up when they get home and I get dropped for lying by omission and not calling myself a sociopath and thinking I could "get away with hiding what it really is" or something. And if I do explain cuz they don't know what ASPD is, it goes "Aka sociopathy. I'm a sociopath." And then I usually get dropped cuz Things Start Making Sense and people have seen too many horror movies.

Or, y'know, I get fired from a job I really enjoyed cuz they consider me a liability. Cheers, M*lbourne.

So I just. I don't fucken tell people. I've got comorbidities and most of my ASPD symptoms/traits I can brush off on those conditions as traits of them. I have low empathy cuz I'm autistic. I'm aggressive because I have trauma and haven't learnt how to cope with it. I'm impulsive cuz of ADHD, I use aliases because of my job, I'm hypersexual because of the CSA I experienced, I do crime cuz I like money and I'm fucken gay, I don't know. I don't tell people about the conduct disorder I had as a kid preceding my trauma, or that I've used aliases long before I started my job, or that I was medicated for my ADHD and certain traits just never changed regardless of how high the dose was until we puzzled out it was because they just weren't the result of ADHD at all.

(Like run-on sentences. Unfortunately that's just how I talk. What's a semicolon?)

So yeah, I just. Don't fucken tell people. I was diagnosed in early February of 2019 at 18 years old as ASPD nomadic subtype with secondary paranoid traits (there's assumed to be a convergent type between malevolent and nomadic but I don't know the name of it and it's not a confirmed subtype, but there's suspicion that's my ACTUAL subtype if it's real), found out I'm also a psychopath when I went to a therapist in M*lbourne a few weeks, and I just. Don't fucking tell people.

My dad knows. Mum knows. My biological brothers don't, but my adoptive brother does. I've confided in mates from high school and I guess 2 years ain't shit cuz they'd all ghosted me after. I told my ex after we'd been dating 4 months and got an earbashing and she very briefly dumped me for a week to "figure things out". And I didn't talk to her a week, and there's nothing quite like desperately wanting to tell someone you're sorry and not being able to because you know you can be really intense sometimes and there's no way for you to approach someone to apologise without them being afraid. And that's hard—she knew about every symptom I had. It wasn't new. But you slap the label of sociopath on it, and now when she looks at you there's a fear in her eyes what wasn't there before. And she wasn't afraid before, when she thought it was just anxiety or autism or OCD or trauma. But "sociopath" is a scary word.

So no, I don't tell people. I let them get to know me first and learn that despite how weird or creepy or unsettling I can come off as, I'm actually harmless. And then if I feel I can trust them to not be ableist about it or turn on a dime and assume the worst of me—and only then—maybe I'll sit them down and be honest.

[hollowsart]

a short bittersweet thing I wrote back in february for @arcade-writing / @scoutverse between Acedia & Scout:

Scout making a miscalculation one time as he's trying to visit Acedia again and ends up time traveling by accident and encounters old lady Acedia. He knows it's her and not someone else. the actuators are a dead giveaway. no one else has actuators that look like that.

he's confused at first before he realizes he made a mistake.

Acedia just looks at him like "..Hm.. I remember you telling me you met me from the future once so very long ago.. Funny to think I didn't think you were telling the truth at the time, until now. I haven't seen you in over 20 years.. You and the others stopped visiting some time ago.. What's your reason for visiting now of all times? Made a miscalculation? Wondered how different our futures are?"

Scout: I'm surprised you're still kick--

Scout: -gets whacked by an actuator to the head- HEY!

Acedia: Watch that mouth, boy.

---

Scout is done with his unintended visit with old lady Acedia:

Acedia: I do hope you'll come to visit me again soon, Scout. I'd love to catch up with you again. The others, too, but that might be asking too much.. It's.. very lonely without you guys.

Scout, knowing she doesn't mean him and their friends in his current age and state: I can't make promises. can't guarantee my memory will be functional to remember at that age.

Acedia, chuckles and smiles: Maybe not, but perhaps you'll still have your sense of humor and sass.

Scout: if there's one thing that's consistent with me it's--

Acedia: --Your compulsion to hide your true self behind your jokes and quips.

Scout: Not what I was going to say. Stop reading me like an open book. You've gotten way too good at that.

Acedia, laughs: I've missed these interactions.

Scout: Yeah.. weird. Anyways, I've gotta get going, I'm gonna be late if I don't go now-- not that I don't take being late in stride and with pride, but--

Acedia: So long, Scout. Take care of yourself for me. You're a good friend despite everything.

Scout: Scout, heading out and feeling heavy complex emotions: Yeah…. You're a very good friend, too, Acedia..

They give a final farewell and Scout is gone from Acedia's future time. Scout finally meets up with everyone like he meant to and does his best to pretend he didn't just see, meet, and experience what he did. Looking at Acedia now feels off, so he avoids looking at her for awhile. only tossing some glances.

Scout will never tell the others what he went through. Gives them an excuse, a lie, about why it took him so long.. He can't bring himself to say it.

After everyone else has left back to their worlds after their meeting in Acedia's. Scout is the only one to remain. He hesitates before heading to the portal to go home, pausing to look at Acedia good and well.

"You're not a good friend. You're a great friend, Acedia."

"Thank you..? You're a great friend too, Scout."

[noirhistories]

Welcome to Antioch, CALLUM ‘CAL’ MAJENTY! Local sources report that you’ve been in town for FIVE YEARS and are known to be AFFECTIONATE yet TEMPERAMENTAL. Others have dredged up rumors that you’re involved in SATANIC PANIC as BASS, but most know you for your work as an ASSISTANT MANAGER at ZIPPO’S ARCADE. We’ll see you around town soon!

BASICS

Character Name: Callum Wesley Magenty Nickname (s): Cal, which is how he introduces himself. Face Claim: Kiowa Gordon Birthday: February 13th Place of birth: Peach Springs, Arizona, USA Zodiac: Aquarius MBTI: ENFP Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Assistant Manager Place of work: Zippo's Arcade Subplot affiliation: Satanic Panic 3 positive traits: Caring, adventurous, loyal 3 negative traits: Stubborn, argumentative, destructive Languages: English Love language: Quality time

TRIVIA

Rolls his own cigarettes just like he remembers his dad doing.

Bites his nails and rips his cuticles even though he says he doesn't.

Likes to draw and used to dream about having his work in an art gallery.

Biography

Barely old enough to hold onto memories of his father when the man went out to 'buy some cigarettes' late one night, Callum grew up with just his mother looking out for him for most of his life, a woman that sometimes had to work two jobs to pay the bills and who always did her best even if it meant Cal was left on his own a lot growing up. Daycare was expensive and his aunt had her own job to do, not capable of dropping everything to pick up her nephew so he wasn't home alone. He knew the rules. Keep hold of your house key. Let yourself in, check all the doors and windows. Hide somewhere and do your homework. Keep a knife with you.

He knew the rules, but didn't often follow them. Instead of homework, he'd sometimes do odd jobs for the neighbors and try to make extra money so his mom didn't need to work so hard. Then he got older and he got braver, more rebellious. Old enough that people didn't question what he was doing on the bus alone and once he was away from the neighborhood of people that knew him, Cal started taking more risks to make money, and sometimes those risks ended up with the cops called.

His mama tried her best, Cal would never tell anyone otherwise, and Cal did his best as well and would spit on anyone that didn't understand that.

It all crashed when she died not long after he turned twenty, and to no one's surprise, the funeral ate up their savings until their was nothing left. Her loss opened up a gaping hole inside Cal and sucked inside of it their entire lives together. The modest little house he grew up in was sold, and Cal ditched his roommates in order to take off on his motorcycle, leaving home behind without any inclination of just where he would go next. He did that for years, traveling around from state to state, trying to start over and always falling back into trouble, trying to find a sense of peace only to feel an itch under his skin.

He showed up in Antioch eventually because it had a reputation worse than him, it seemed like a town made up of bad luck and ill fortune and finally he slotted in there, a place where misdeeds were the norm. He fit in, found a job, and then found the band. It wasn't the life his mom would have wanted for him, but it was a life outside of a prison cell, so Callum thought he was doing pretty good and didn't see the point in asking for more.

Because that's all life had turned into for him. Surviving. No real goals, no real aspirations, just a handful of dreams covered in dirt that he didn't believe in anymore, and emotion without a targeted direction.

CONNECTIONS

Wanted Connection #1: Past hook ups because the guy is probably a slut.

Wanted Connection #2: People Judging:tm: him because of the previous point (could also judge him because of Callista)

Wanted Connection #3: Either someone to antagonize him because they don't believe he's better than that, or someone to mentor him because they DO believe he's better than that. (I'll be real. I know damn well what will happen if he meets Gim.)

[zilabee]

Snippets from Brian Wilson's autobiography from 2016, that are kind of about Paul McCartney without necessarily being about Paul McCartney at all:

I wrote a song for [Frank Sinatra] once called "Still I Dream of It". He didn't say yes to the song, and that bothered me. It was a beautiful song about loneliness and hope.

I love that both Brian and Paul wrote weirdly sad songs for Frank Sinatra and Frank noped out on them both.

We went on our honeymoon at the beginning of 1965. I was sitting around, looking at the water or closing my eyes out on the beach, and a whole song came to me. It was "Girl Don't Tell Me." I didn't have any way to get it down. I didn't have a pen. I didn't have a guitar. I didn't have a piano. But I just heard the whole thing up there, from start to finish and I remembered it well enough to go later and write down the lyrics on a piece of paper. It was a real trip to write a song that way. I thought it would keep happening like that. It never did again.

He laid an egg! Like Paul with Yesterday. There's also another bit of the book where he says that he wrote Girl Don't Tell Me for John Lennon, and considered giving it to the Beatles, and that's why they didn't put backing on it or anything. Maybe you only lay eggs if you're thinking about John Lennon, that's all I'm saying.

Melinda and I got married at a chapel in Palos Verdas. I picked as the date February 6, because it was Marilyn's birthday. That way I figured, I would never forget the date. Melinda agreed.

Marilyn is his ex-wife. He got married on the date of his first wife's birthday. Apparently this is just something that makes sense and isn't weird at all.

Some answers are in my own songs, some answers are in other people's songs. One of the songs that never fails is "Let It Be". I sing it to myself all the time. Whenever it comes on the radio, it lifts me. Whenever I have mental problems, it saves me, big time. It's like a Valium to me.

There are other bits where he mentions Paul and Paul's music explicitly. Times they've met and sung harmony together. He calls him Pablo. He talks about hearing the Beatles and wanting to do something better and so on. He says that he'd still quite like to write a song with Paul but he's not sure that Paul would want to.

I could say that I really worked forever on it, that I spent a year imagining how the melody would work and another year on the lyrics. But the facts are that Tony and I sat down at a piano and wrote it in forty five minutes. […] If you look at the studio logs, it shows almost two dozen takes, but it didn't feel that way at all. "God Only Knows" felt easy. It came out like melted butter.

Writing emotional support songs for one another across the atlantic ocean.

I have heard those voices for a long time, maybe fifty years now. they first came to me when I was twenty-two, after I took LSD. LSD was something that people told me made your mind larger, and that sounded interesting to me. I was interested in exploring ways of getting expanded. The first time I took it, I had to go hide in a bedroom, and I thought mostly about my parents and whether I should be afraid of them. I also started to play what became 'California Girls' on the piano, that sound of the cowboy riding into town. I played it and played it until I heard other things inside of it. But about a week after that, the first voices started to pop up. They'd sound like a real person's voice, a person different from me who I couldn't control, but inside my own head. I didn't know what to do with them. [...] Doctors have told me that the voices didn't come from the acid, that they would have happened anyway, but I'm not sure. I didn't have them before.

That was 1964. I've never been able to work out how well known this was at the time, but Paul talks about not wanting to take lsd to begin with because he was worried he wouldn't be himself afterwards. He must have known stories like this, even if not Brian's particular experience. But if he did know about Brian, it would be even scarier, I think, because even then they must have seen a parallel in how they heard music, how their brains worked in some ways.

Because [Do You Wanna Dance] is a dance song, people don't think of it as a spiritual thing, but it is, because it's harmony.

Only including that because I love how he just believes that harmony is the most important thing in the world. It's a truly religious thing for him, it's one of the loveliest things about the book. His trying to explain how he writes music, is different from Paul, because he thinks it differently, but there's the same sense of 'you just sit there and then you write a song...' There's a great bit where he talks about being in the studio and sitting in front of the mixer, but not touching it, just needing to be near it so he could work out the song. And he's like 'after about fifteen minutes… I mean they said it was an hour or two, but about fifteen minutes… I went over to the piano… I didn't play the piano, but it meant I could explain the harmony'.

There was some big study at a university and the doctors who did the study said that anxiety and creativity are sort of the same thing: both of them are about dealing less with what's in front of you and more with what's in your head. Listening to what's in your head, especially when you're a person with anxiety, leads to negative emotions. But they're also a form of imagination. If you can worry about problems when there aren't problems around, then you can also think of stories or songs when there aren't stories or songs around. You can make things go from not existing to existing.

I'm sure there's another bit that I can't find now, where he talked about realising that if you can make songs, then you sort of have a duty to. Because if you don't make them exist they don't exist.

all quotes from I Am Brian Wilson by Brian Wilson and Ben Greenman

[its-lu-de-mo]

I've been working on some writing for a while, and the Main LU Discord knows of this as Archfey Time. As a bonus for finally deciding on a name for this AU, I'm posting a scene that I posted a bit of in February from there.

Nisse Nisi: Snippet 1

As a result of the Great Deku Tree's death, Time is now the Archfey Guardian of the Forest. While he still appears Hylian, he's slowly realizing that travelling with 8 others is finally causing his Fey abilities to awaken. It's a good thing most of the others know what fey are, because his fondness and those instincts have claimed the Chain as his. (Scene setup: It's a couple days after the group has talked about fey and learned that Sky has none and Wild doesn't believe in Fey, but everyone else has major minor connections).

"I've been thinking about our chat from the other night, about fey."

"Oh? Thinking how certain things make more sense?"

"In a way, yeah. I never knew the name of the forest kids until then, and Sky not really having fey makes a lot of sense. Actually, for a group that travels in as many forests as we do, we're too damned naive about the wrong things."

Time chuckled, "And too suspicious of others."

Warriors ran his hand through his hair, "Yeah, I can't help but think there's some archfey who saw us and thought we're all dumb fey children. Got attached too quickly for us to notice and now watches us flail around trying to figure out why someone who has no fey in their world has fey magic wrapping around them." Time stared at the fire and paled, as Warriors shuffled a bit next to him, "I knew you were claiming us, but I didn't think…."

He sighed, catching the unspoken accusation, "What makes you think I'm so high?"

"Look at us, old man. Barring the reincarnation bit that none of us want to speak about, we're all essentially covered in Great Fairy magic. Blessings and spells and stronger items are abundant. What small fey would approach so many people with gifts from the great mothers? Sky would be the only one they could get close to, and he's carrying a Master Sword so young that she radiates divinity."

"A child of the great mothers could," he started, turning to look at him. The blank glare he earned had him sighing again, "But for one who's bonded to a fairy, you already knew anyway."

His companion started, mumbling a soft curse under his breath, "Of course you knew about the bond. I didn't really want to hide it from the others, but it didn't feel right to fully admit everything then. Yes, I did save Proxi, and it was a mostly mutual bond."

It made sense to Time that a bond would form between the two, especially in a life and death situation. Something different existed in the magic though, and it was foreign and familiar at the same time, "It isn't just a bond, though I don't know what."

"I don't have any siblings and Pa never existed in my memories. It was just me and Ma for the most part, and we stayed out of everyone's way. Don't think Ma had any friends or siblings herself, so when she died after I turned 16, I eventually joined the military. Could have joined earlier, but Ma was sick and I couldn't leave her alone. Anyway, I was still a few months shy of 17 when the castle was attacked, and Proxi and I met."

And suddenly, everything clicked for Time, "Why isn't she with you? A Kokiri needs their companion fairy to survive."

"She couldn't come through the portal, but… I'm not really a Kokiri either. Didn't even know what they were until you mentioned them. We saved Faron Woods and the Great Deku Tree there on my birthday."

"Your age of majority must be higher than mine, or something, because 15 is too old for a fairy to bond in my woods. We'll have to watch the sailor if we go too deep into forests."

"Not really. I mean, technically we'd have to watch a few of them, but you're an Archfey of the Woods. You decide what fey approach us or not, *Dad*."

Hearing that felt like a gut punch and Time finally Looked at Warriors. The glamour surrounding him shimmered and Time saw the rounded face and thinner shoulders of a teen behind the magic, "You still entered the Deku Tree's area of magic before majority. How many years have you had to pretend to age, captain?"

"It's more difficult to maintain when Proxi and I are together, but 10 years. I suspect, if she could come with us, it wouldn't be more than a month before I'd have to ask for help in hiding that I'm physically under 17."

[lazyrants]

Robbie Rotten's Greatest Misses (prod 133)

Original airdate: February 7, 2006

Story by Magnus Scheving

Written by Noah Zachary, Cole Louie, Magnus Scheving

Directed by Magnus Scheving, Jonathan Judge

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Mark Read, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Sarah Burgess

Will this episode hit or miss? Well, it IS called Robbie's Greatest Misses, but.. uhhh.. you get me, right?

Episode beginning: Kinda recycled. This time it's Sportacus purposefully dropping a stopwatch out his airship, trying to catch it on the sky chaser, and what do you know, he gets it.

All in 29.9 seconds. Robbie is in his lair eating a fat creamy slice of cake that I've always wanted until I found out it was shaved cream for the frosting. He decides to check what the LazyTowners are doing, and Ziggy warns Milford not to step on a skateboard.

He was just being a moron and says 'GOTCHA!!' Anyways, Milford has a trophy in his hands and Ziggy asks who it's being awarded to. He says that he cannot tell anybody, and then he tells Ziggy ('I can't tell you that it's Sportacus). Lolwut. Robbie takes a much more different approach to this, throwing away his cake.

Food waster. Ziggy points out he wins every year, and Robbie wants to put an end to this by making sure someone classy wins. Then he burps. It turns out that burp was too.. well.. I don't know, but PBS Kids Sprout didn't like it. So here is the next part [kinda boring] summed up: Robbie hide in mailbox, Milford tells everyone Sportacus won except Sportacus.

Then Robbie figures out the big epic secret as to why Sportacus always wins - because he saves people all the time. GASP! Meanwhile, Ziggy is continuing his moron adventure, telling the kids there's a monkey playing the trumpets outside.

Then he says GOTCHA when they realize he is a big fat chubby liar. They tell him fibbing is bad and he doesn't care. So, back to the lair, Robbie performs Master of Disguise. At the end of the song, he still doesn't know how to catch Sportacus. And he plays a few VHS tapes of his greatest misses, which makes no sense. How'd he have them? Is SOMEONE in the town always filming him?

So, Ziggy is still at it, being a MASSIVE moron, and lying about a spider on Trixie's shoulder. She waves it around, falling to the ground. That rhymed! Anyways, he gets kinda sad when they don't laugh. Back to Robbie's lair, he says they were all good plans and they should've worked. Then he gets the actual GENIUS idea to use ALL of his schemes at once. It's plans like these that should've worked.

But it doesn't end there - he comes up with the disguise of a cow. What. Then Ziggy spots him using the soccer ball launcher. So he goes to snitch to his friends and not a fricking trusted guardian, but they obviously do not believe him. So he does a big angry 'you-no-trust-i-save-town-alone' speech in an attempt for them to believe him, and what does it do?

It makes them believe him even less. So he tries again after he sees the cow (Robbie, but is there really any difference..?) hiding into a mailbox but Stephanie keeps on saying telling fibs is bad, so then they check it out AND THEY SEE

absolutely nothing. I love this show, but the amount of coincidences is ridiculous, even for Nickelodeon. Then the two go back to Pixel's house. Ziggy tries some more, but he gives up. THEN Robbie comes out and Ziggy hides behind a tree.

He confronts the cow and tells him how much trouble he is causing. Then he ties up Ziggy. Sportacus' crystal beeps and he comes to town on the Sky Chaser. Meanwhile, the kids go to check on Ziggy, and Robbie climbs up on a wall, starting to launch flying soccer balls at Sportacus.

As if that wasn't enough, he tries to MURDER him by launching a cannonball out the cannon. Luckily, Sportacus grabs onto a tree branch, turns around it (dodging the cannon) and flipping off the branch.

He activates the Candy Maker, but that's just a chance for Sportacus to practice some tennis hits. Then he unleashes the pirate ship - but Sportacus has seen Rush Hour 2 - so he lies down.

LOL. So, then when the anchor comes, he jumps over it. Probably the easiest thing to do. So Robbie starts controlling a bulldozer (he says 'Not another one!', which is kinda just wasting time). Instead of just running out the way, he has to flip into the driver's seat and stop it. Anyways, the pirate ship goes against the master and comes charging at Robbie. But Sportacus must save him!

Using a skateboard. He lies down on his skateboard, skates (pushes with his back) over to Ziggy for an apple. So Ziggy kicks the tree and the apple drops in Sportacus' hands and he bites it. The anchor of the ship grabs onto the wall, making it wiggle, and Robbie fall. So, instead of going somewhere else, he stays there as the wall falls on him. Sportacus skates under the wall.

And everyone is super sad because they think he's.. unalived. (Steph unties Ziggy.) Until he LITERALLY CARRIES UP THE ENTIRE WALL BY HIMSELF WITH THE HELP OF ONE APPLE BITE. I'd think he was dead too. He was under there for like 40 seconds before lifting up the wall.

While Robbie is shaking and quivering like a sissy. (I would too, to be honest.) And to think Robbie is some people's favourite character! Robbie's disguise is foiled, everyone makes up, Milford gives Sportacus the award and they sing Bing Bang.

Robbie just wants to forget it all with a piece of cake. But instead he has a LARGE sip of milk. How you 'accidentally' pick up something and sip it is unknown to me.

Oh, and if you think about it, Robbie has had a lot of milk before.. just in the form of cake! (Or, probably cake batter.) Then he adjusts his cow head. The end

6/10. I admit, that episode was pretty good! Although the unrealism with Sportacus is so just overkill, not even me, a super mega ultra Sportacus fan can really find them cool.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Remember how less than two weeks ago we as a fandom were being laughed at and gaslit by media outlets (most likely with the go-ahead from his PR team) as being complete and total crazy weirdos for equating a pumpkin pic to something happening behind the scenes?//

I'm pissed too. What really gets me is the people still not accepting this is not 100% real. I'm not saying he's not hooking up with her (at least last January I think they were hooking up) but then after January, zero..nothing until Halloween, no sightings, a few likes only on IG. I just don't buy they're a couple, it all seems off especially considering how miserable he looks

Here's the thing: his PR, or some PR, started running the "crazy weirdo fans" narrative all the way back in December/January. It was one way they were discrediting what we were talking about, and seeming to discredit that anything was happening.

Look, to be honest, my mind is still all over the place on what is going on. I know back in December when the Trio showed up in MA my first gut reaction was why does this look like yachting without the yacht. I didn't like that thought at all, because it's just such a slimy consideration. But December/January still doesn't make sense either. It's clear they were in his houses, it's clear they were traveling with him and some of his close family/friends, it's clear something was happening. Yet his PR went overboard that first week in January to distract and distance him out of that situation; I mean, having to release that Gene Kelly project news that preemptively was desperate. (Unless, of course... that somehow figures into this whole mess. Like, we still haven't figured out what he's getting for blowing up his whole public persona.)

Like, honestly, he so didn't want us figuring out that he was on the West Coast before that blurb in People on January 13th about the Vegas trip. So much so that he sat on the floor of his L.A. house between two windows to record that ASP accounts video that he posted on January 10th. That was not some Vegas hotel room, that was his house, and he was desperately trying to hide he was in L.A., because he didn't want us connecting it to them being in L.A., at lest not before his required Vegas comped trip photo came out. So much manipulation.

And he did all that only to out himself in a Lisbon hotel room on January 26th. WTF?

And then it seems to have all blown up by the time Justin made the "plenitude" post on February 5th.

To me, I can see all that as having been some failed short-term hook-up situation. (Or holy hell, I hate to say I'm entertaining the thought... but sugar baby crap that didn't completely solidify.) But the shit that's started since summer, with the follows and likes and seemingly orchestrated posts, articles and pap walk... I honestly don't know. It doesn't look organic, which I will say the NYE trip at least sorta seemed that way. So, then what, because I can't believe it's wholly some orchestrated PR plot, because WHY WOULD THEY DESTROY HIS CAREFULLY CRAFTED PR PERSONA THAT MAKES HIM A LOT OF MONEY?

Does anyone have any idea that makes anything make sense? Because I don't buy the storyline Megan is selling, but also can't come up with what the alternative is.

[knickynoo]

So I have a question for you that's always baffled me and I'm interested in your thoughts on it: if Doc arrived in 1885 on January 1st, why did it take him 8 months to write back to Marty? Sure, he hoped he'd be able to repair the DeLorean and go back home at first, but surely it wouldn't have taken him quite that long to realise it couldn't be done? I don't know, I'm just curious on this

*whips out the DeLorean Time Machine Owners' Manual* Aha! Doc's journal entries from 1885 actually provide some answers to this! (This is going to be very detailed, I AM SORRY. I just love the DeLorean Manual and all the insight it gives into these details!)

So, there are a few reasons why Doc took a while to write the letter and instructions to Marty. His first entry in the Old West, written shortly after his arrival, details a lot of those chaotic first days he spent in 1885. He mentions having to hide the car, making sure his clothes didn't look out of place and needing to quickly come up with a cover story to explain who he is and why he's just wandered into town with no horse. After that, he doesn't write another entry until the end of February, where he tells all about how he acquired the blacksmith shop and how he's begun to fully integrate himself into the community.

Doc's primary goal, once getting settled, is very much to focus on "rescuing" Marty from 1955. He writes about the "devastating sense of depression and guilt" that surrounds him at the thought of Marty being stranded. The initial journal entry makes it sound like Doc has his doubts as to whether or not he can get the DeLorean working again, so I think he probably realized quickly that it couldn't totally be done in 1885. But he does make it his responsibility to then do as much work as he possibly can while he devises the rest of his plan, which is what makes his job as the blacksmith so valuable. Doc writes that the shop is a fantastic place to be able to do his work on the DeLorean, but it's clear that he doesn't exactly have much free time to spend actually doing the necessary repairs. He's the only blacksmith in town, and his entries make a note of his constant workload. He's always repairing wagons or tools or shoeing horses, to the point that he says he hardly has any time at all to actually devote to the time machine. (He does, however, say that he took some time to invent things to make life in 1885 more comfortable. I'm assuming his fancy shower/bathtub setup and the giant machine that produces a singular ice cube for his absolutely necessary ~iced tea~. He also evidently invents a wood-cutting machine.)

From January to April, it sounds like the car basically sits there untouched aside from a few spare minutes here and there that he has to devote to it. Unfortunately, Doc has very little choice in the matter of free time, seeing as he's such an integral part in keeping the town functioning. He's extremely well-liked by everybody and considered an expert in his craft, writing that he's a "pillar of the community," so putting off the work or hiding away in solitude is simply not an option. PLUS, there's the added fact that there really isn't any deadline or rush to get his plan put together and the letter sent to Marty, considering 1955 is a long way from 1885. So while he's definitely worried about getting things sorted out, he knows logically that Marty isn't sitting there in the future all scared and feeling abandoned since that future hadn't even happened yet. It doesn't really matter when he gets it done, so long as he eventually does.

From the looks of the rest of the journal entries, it doesn't seem like Doc is able to really start pushing forward with the work on the DeLorean until June of 1885, which is the point that he fully realizes he's done almost all he can and that the rest will have to depend on his 1955 counterpart and Marty working on it. But there's still a lot of things to iron out, such as having to "reverse engineer the time circuits with tubes", writing up detailed instructions to his future self of how to reassemble everything, drawing a map and schematics, and figuring out where to hide the vehicle and ensure that it'll be safe for 70 years. All in all, finding the time to get it all done takes him from June to September 1st.

Interesting side note: There is a journal entry written on September 1st (the same day he writes the letter) in which we learn that Doc literally did not have a plan for how to get the instructions to Marty until just a few hours prior when he happened to walk by the Western Union office and pretty much went: well, it's worth a shot. ALSO! Doc writes that he had some trouble convincing the men in the office to take the letter and follow his instructions--they think he's drunk. He ends up convincing them to do it by being like: How do you know I haven't been sent by the main corporate headquarters to see if you actually follow through with your customers' instructions? How do you know this isn't all a test? What if you fail and I report you? Hmm??

I love Doc. Anyway, that's why it took him so long to get the car and his letter prepared. He was too busy single-handedly holding that town together.

Thanks for the ask!

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 6 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated SFW — 4079 words.

Note: I'm so sick right now, I wrote this entire chapter while drugged up on Nyquil and Imitrex. Lmfao. I hope to god it makes sense.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Shane coughed, covering his mouth just in time to prevent the lump of what Kristen called lasagna from flying right into her face.

Her expression twisted in concern, obviously thinking he was choking, and she rose from her chair to slap him between the shoulders with more force than he expected. He coughed again, weakly shoving her away so he could swallow the mass in his mouth and reach for his water glass.

"Are you okay!?" she asked, hovering behind his chair, close enough that he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. Even now, he had to suppress a shiver as the humid warmth lit up an unexpected pleasure center in his brain.

"Yeah," he answered in between several more coughs. He scrubbed at the unshed tears that pooled in his eyes, the raw sting at the back of his throat making him grimace. 

Naively, he wondered if the farmer would forget about her ridiculous demand if he didn't acknowledge it. So, he hesitated, silence settling between them like an unwanted guest that had overstayed their welcome. Eventually, she returned to her chair across from him, her large brown eyes brimming with uncertainty.

"Shane —"

"Give me a minute," he interrupted, rising from his chair. Before he realized it, he was pulling the bathroom door closed, his lungs deflating so rabidly that he felt slightly dizzy. 

Shane's haggard reflection greeted him from the mirror above the sink, small patches of fog still clinging to the smooth surface. He knew he couldn't hide forever, so he sat on the toilet seat and cradled his head in his hands, the image of her imploring face seared into the back of his eyelids like a fresh brand.

Despite a lack of sleep, he'd had a decent day. Almost good. Work sucked; it always did. But he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that seeing Kristen that morning and the anticipation of seeing her again afterward was the only reason it wasn't as soul-suckingly miserable as usual. It was uncomfortable enough admitting such a thing to himself while he made the trek back to her farm after his shift, only to be greeted by her smiling face and a home-cooked meal, despite her dismal culinary skills. But the request she'd dropped on him like an atom bomb made his discomfort significantly worse, especially since he was certain she was blissfully unaware of how her presence had taken root in his life. Piercing his flesh, worming through soft tissue, snaking between his ribs, constricting his once atrophied heart.

Her request was benign. Innocent and pure. But Shane's feelings were anything but.

She'd once called him her best friend after they'd spent a late Friday at the Stardrop. It wasn't often she drank with him, but that night she'd clearly had something weighing on her mind that she intended to drown in a sea of whiskey. Already tipsy by the time she'd arrived, liquid courage urged him to support her quest, buying her shot after shot until her cheeks flushed and her calloused hands clutched one of his biceps for support. The warmth that had bloomed in his belly as she uttered those words had nothing to do with the booze, and he hadn't felt the need to deny it. He also hadn't said it back, hoping she instinctively knew he felt the same.

It was early February, and flakes of fluffy snow danced around them as the duo stumbled from the Saloon into the abandoned town square. Emily had closed and locked the door behind them before patting them both on the shoulder and steering them toward their shared path. The walk was slow, with awkward steps they'd attempted to make in tandem, only to trip over one another's feet and slip on the freshly fallen snow like a pair of spring foals taking their first steps on wobbly newborn legs. 

Her giggles had been more intoxicating than anything Shane swallowed that evening. The chill of her nose when she'd pressed her face to the column of his throat sent a shiver down his spine that even the frigid gusts of winds couldn't compete with. The uncharacteristic huskiness of her voice when she'd invited him inside her home awoke something within him that he'd suppressed for longer than he'd wanted to admit.

Her keys jingled as she'd fumbled them from the pocket of her jeans. His breaths quickened as she'd swung the door open and pulled him inside. And his body had burst into flames when her lips made contact with the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck," he hissed, digging his nails into his scalp as the memory haunted him once again. Almost 6 months had passed, and he still couldn't scrub it from his mind. Kristen's memory of that night was non-existent. He knew the second he'd bumped into her the following afternoon at Pierre's, her curly hair tied in a messy bun and her bloodshot eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses despite the snowy gloom. She'd smiled and waved at him, a bottle of aspirin clutched in one hand and a case of ginger ale in the other.

Shane's heart had sunk through his stomach and settled in his toes. Every step he'd made that day squashed the traitorous organ more and more until it resembled the flattened husk of a possum that he'd once discovered during his morning walk to school as a child. Discarded. Lifeless.

Despite his own hangover, he'd hyped himself up to approach her while sober. Apologize for refusing her advance but explain that it was only because he didn't want to fuck it up by sloppily screwing his only real friend in a drunken haze just to have her regret it the following morning. Or worse, accuse him of taking advantage of her. So he'd gently peeled the farmer from his front and guided her to bed. He'd removed her shoes and smoothed the wild strands of hair from her forehead and face. He'd fed her mangy cat and ensured her fire would burn through the night. Then, he’d walked home to the ranch. Alone.

When Shane gathered his wits and found his way back to the kitchen, the table was cleared, and the nerve-wracking sound of silverware scraping porcelain assaulted his ears, making him cringe. 

"Do you, uh — need help?" he asked, coming to stand beside her at the sink. She'd balanced a plate on the side of the basin and used the prongs of a fork to fling the attached slab of overdone pasta into the disposal. "You don't have to be so stubborn."

"Are you going to ignore my question?" she pivoted, painfully pointing out that she wasn't the only stubborn one in the room by stabbing the plate one last time, sending it clattering to the bottom of the sink. 

"It wasn't a question," he countered. Kristen closed her eyes and lowered her head, frustration emanating from her in waves that were nearly palpable. "Kriss, I can't just move in here. You know that. I can't leave Jas —"

"Do you really think I'd expect you to leave her with Marnie?"

"Then where would she stay?" he asked, a lump forming in his throat. No matter how fucking insane it was, his mind conjured up an image of Jas occupying one room of the farmhouse while he and the farmer shared the other. He swallowed, the lump growing larger as his heart fluttered and its pace quickened.

"You know that cabin at the edge of the property? I had Robin fix it up a year ago because my brother said he wanted to come help out on the farm."

Shane vaguely recalled Kristen mentioning it when he'd stopped by and saw Robin and her son Sebastian unloading lumber from the carpenter's pickup truck. As far as he knew, her brother never showed up.

"It's only one room," he pointed out, confused.

"I know. I thought I could move in there, and you and Jas could stay here in the farmhouse. See — plenty of space for everyone."

"Oh."

Silence settled between them again, and Shane quickly dispelled the happy family fantasy from his head, feeling foolish.

"So?" she hedged, taking a step toward him, invading his personal space like she always did. "I know this seems out of the blue, but I can't think of anyone else who would go out on such a limb for me, Shane. The thought of you walking here multiple times a day to take care of my farm… it isn't fair. As much as I hate to admit it, I'll need help for a while if I have to have surgery, and I want to help you, too. You can stay here for free. You can quit Joja if you want or maybe go part-time?"

"What happens after you're all healed up?" he asked. His heart rate had increased again, and he found himself pacing the floor. Partly to put a bit of distance between them and partly to burn the anxious energy that began to radiate up his spine.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. He wondered if she felt as flustered as she suddenly appeared. "We can run the farm together."

Shane figured that statement was supposed to provide clarity, but it only confused him further — she and the town drunk running a farm together… but separately. 

Anger suddenly boiled within him, bubbling over and threatening to consume him if he didn't leave. Now.

"I gotta think about it," he said, snatching his backpack and stalking toward the door. Kristen said something, her voice beseeching and her aura pressing down on him from behind as she followed him outside and down the steps of her porch. But he kept walking, hastening his stride until he crossed the property line into Cindersap Forest, anger quickly replaced by something more potent. Something harder to control. Something he didn't have the energy to wrestle into submission while Kristen's thoughtless proposal relentlessly bounced between his ears like a rogue ping pong ball — "We can run the farm together."

Marnie's questioning expression faded the second she recognized the hardened and vacant look in her nephew's eyes. Shane ignored her as he entered his room and rooted around in his sock drawer for the wad of cash he'd been storing there. He hadn't bothered to count it in a while, but the stack had grown fatter and fatter each night he'd managed to avoid the Saloon. Maybe the stack would be cut in half by the morning. Maybe it would be completely gone. At this point, Shane couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

❦❧🍓❦❧

"So —" Emily said, sliding a fresh mug of ale toward Shane, "— where's Kristen tonight?" Shane flicked his eyes upward to meet hers, a hardly contained scowl contrasting the playful smirk she delivered in return. Shane never understood how this woman could peer directly into the recesses of his soul, but she never ceased to surprise him. "I suppose she's not up for the Friday night crowd?"

Shane scoffed, taking a generous gulp from the frosty mug.

"Dunno what she's doing."

"She's on your mind, though. I can practically see her dancing on your shoulder," Emily quipped, gathering the collection of empty mugs surrounding him before loading them into the small portable dishwasher she only seemed to wheel out when Shane was on a bender. He wondered if she kept tabs on those instances just as closely as he did these days. Regardless, he simply shrugged in response, another gulp of ale slipping past his lips to join the countless others, blunting his frayed emotions until they no longer scratched at the closed door of his heart like an abandoned puppy.

As much as Shane preferred to sulk without distractions, the cacophony of voices and raucous laughter in the Stardrop Saloon on Friday evenings served as necessary white noise. When he'd lived alone in the city, he couldn't afford to frequent the local bars and still pay his astronomical rent. So he'd opted to drink cheap Joja brand beer with the television's volume set to max. In the Saloon, no one bothered to approach him anyway, so he considered it a worthy alternative to pissing Marnie off and keeping Jas up all night.

"Will you do me a favor?" Emily spoke up again, shattering the delusion he'd just attempted to craft — No one notices you. No one cares…

"Hmm?" He didn't bother to look up at her this time. Studying the strange woman's intuition and why she bothered to waste it on him was no use.

"Would you mind calling her to see how she is? I would do it myself but keep my phone in the back and —" she gestured at the crowd surrounding them, several members waving toward her, signaling that they required another round.

Shane blinked slowly, considering her request. If he were sober, he might have seen through Emily's subtle ploy. Unfortunately, he was well past the threshold of drunk and steadily ebbing toward shit-faced. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at her, the corners of his mouth sagging as he clutched the handle of his rapidly draining mug a bit tighter than was necessary.

"Please? I have a healing crystal to lend her. Just ask when I can swing by tomorrow?"

Before he could reply, Emily shimmied her way past Gus and exited the opposite side of the bar. Her shock of blue hair was easy to track as she weaved through the crowd with a tray weighed down with assorted cocktails he hadn't even noticed her mixing.

With an audible groan, unbothered by who may notice, Shane cradled his chin in one hand. Marnie's laugh filtered toward him through the crowd, and he cringed. He'd felt her gaze upon him more than once like a laser, sizzling his flesh from across the Saloon. Lewis was most likely with her, treating her like a business associate while in the public eye. But she would spend the remainder of the night away from the ranch, tiptoeing through the front door at the crack of dawn the following morning like a rebellious teenager. At least Jas was sleeping over at Vincent's that night, sparing her witnessing her caretakers behaving like self-centered fools.

Shane momentarily forgot Emily's request as he brooded, draining the remainder of the ale in his mug. Until the farmer's name escaped the mouth of one of the kids in the adjacent game room.

Kids, he thought with a bitter laugh, recalling when he would have been offended if some bar rat called him such when he was in his 20s.

"You saw Kristen in town?" Sam asked one of the others.

"Yeah. She didn't say much, though. Bet her hand is pretty fucked up, based on how big the bandage was. Alex is supposed to drop some shit off at her place tonight, so maybe he'll spill the beans," Sebastian said, followed by the loud and precise clack of pool balls colliding.

"How much you wanna bet he shows up in the crop top and gridball shorts like that's his normal outfit?" a female voice interjected. Shane could picture her face in his mind's eye, but her name escaped him. Purple hair, lots of eyeliner… It didn't fucking matter. What did was the chorus of answering laughter, presumably agreeing with the young woman's apt assumption.

"You're giving away how much porn you watch. And what kind," Sam joked. Shane — completely homed in on their conversation now — swiveled on his stool and watched the trio as they took turns at the pool table, petty gossip flowing from their lips like a fountain.

"Honestly," Sebastian chimed in, taking another expert shot. A cigarette was tucked behind his ear, reminding Shane of 50s greasers — a whole pack rolled up in one sleeve and a comb wedged in their back pockets. "Remember when he told us he'd have her ankles behind her ears within a month when she first moved here?"

Another round of laughter erupted from the small group of friends; their evident skepticism proven right over 2 years later.

"I dunno, man, I almost believed him," Sam said, lining up his own shot and missing it in spectacular fashion. "There's a reason he wears that crop top and why Haley rides his dick all over town."

"Shut up!" the girl hissed. Shane suddenly remembered her name — Abigail. As if it mattered. "Emily can probably hear you like… telepathically or something."

The utterance of the waitress' name slammed her former request back into the forefront of Shane's brain, along with a raunchy vision of Alex the gridball player seducing the farmer and railing her into next Tuesday. Bile bit the back of his throat and he swallowed, forcing it down to drown in the lake of ale it had somehow escaped from. His motor functions were already loose and sloppy, but he managed to fish his cell phone from the pocket of his threadbare hoodie and initiate a call.

The tension in Shane's jaw tightened with each ring, his teeth feeling as if they could crack at any second. 

"Hi, it's Kristen. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can."

He immediately tapped the call button again and held his breath.

"Hi, it's Kristen. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can."

Again.

"Hi, it's Kristen. Leave a —"

He slammed his phone on the bar hard enough for a crack to form at one corner of the screen and snake upward toward the center. Bitterness coated his tongue, and he slammed it harder, watching as the crack branched, consuming the tempered glass entirely. It was oddly satisfying, and he ran the pad of his thumb over the pattern, the slight scrape grounding him momentarily.

"Everything alright, Shane?" Gus asked. His jovial tone was unexpected, but his concerned expression was not. Emily had reappeared and hovered nearby, filling a glass with ice water. Shane wondered just how many eyes had shifted toward him in the wake of his micro tantrum but refused to acknowledge them.

"Uh, yeah," he said, not bothering with an excuse. Emily placed the water glass in front of him, the soft clink of ice inside conjuring up memories of sweet tea on the farmer's porch in Spring. Marnie chattering away while Jas played with the mangy cat. The farmer's gaze laid heavy upon him while he scowled, determined to reject her hospitality at every turn...

His phone lit up with an incoming call, the contact photo easily recognizable, even through the spider web of destruction — the farmer proudly standing in front of her grange display at the Stardew Valley Fair. She'd asked him to take it, first place ribbon pinned to the front of her overalls and a broad smile plastered across her freckled face. He was sure she had no idea he'd saved it after texting it to her, let alone used it as her contact photo.

He snatched the device from the bar, indignation flaring up anew as he aggressively tapped the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Shane? What's up?" Her tone was apprehensive. Almost cautious.

All at once, words jumbled in his brain. Phrases formed and caught in his throat before another took its place. He wanted to ask her why she didn't answer. He wanted to ask her if she was alone. He wanted to ask her —

"Did you have fun with Alex?"

"What?" He could almost see her shocked expression as he screwed his eyes shut and raked his free hand through his hair. "How did you —"

"Why don't you ask him to move in with you instead?" he spat, venom lacing each syllable. He felt betrayed in a way that made perfect sense to his ale-addled brain. Explosions of color bloomed behind his eyes as he dug a fist into them, his jaw clenched again so tightly that his temples ached.

"You're drunk." He scoffed as if her obvious observation was utterly outlandish. "I'll be there soon."

She hung up on him, and Shane slipped his damaged phone back into his hoodie pocket. He contemplated leaving, stumbling to the dock and spending the rest of the night there with a case of Joja brand beer. It was tempting, but he knew Kristen would seek him out, and that would be the first place she'd go, having found him there on too many occasions to number. As much as he loathed to admit it, he was a creature of habit, and she'd become a part of that routine, disrupting his vices with her stupid distractions.

Fuck it, he thought, pulling a wad of crumpled bills from his cargo shorts and tossing them on the bar. The farmer had flipped Shane's entire life on its head, inserting herself into every aspect despite his initial resistance. She knew what she was getting into; he never asked for any of it. He never asked for her.

The walk from the Saloon to the ranch was hazy, but his feet knew the path by heart. Idly he wondered if the outlines of his footprints could be detected like the remnants of blood spatter at a crime scene. A morbid blueprint that traced the path of his daily trek as a useless deadbeat.

"I want you to move in with me."

The ranch was dark when he stumbled through the front door, save for a small night light in the kitchen. Marnie had left it unlocked, probably realizing that Shane would be too drunk to wrestle with his keys, which was simultaneously endearing and annoying. But he shook it off as he plodded toward his room and fished the spare case of beer from the back of his closet. He'd considered getting rid of it multiple times but never did, unease forcing him to toss a spare blanket over it instead.

"We can run the farm together."

He cracked open one of the lukewarm cans and tipped the contents down his throat, draining it completely before leaving his room. Crumpling the empty can in his fist, he tossed it toward the wastebasket in the corner and missed. It lay on the floor, instantly forgotten until the following morning when he would trip over it on his way to the toilet — a problem for future Shane to deal with, along with the shameful hangover and disappointed lecture from his loving aunt.

The journey to the lake dock was just as instinctive, and he soon found himself lying with his legs dangling over the edge, a warm breeze caressing his bare calves and forearms. The night was sultry, so he'd shed his hoodie and rolled it into a makeshift pillow, protecting his hair from the thin layer of mold carpeting the surface of the moist wood.

Time seemed stretched thin, like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. Seconds pulled taunt until they resembled hours, spinning and tilting like a top when Shane closed his eyes. He didn't know how many cans he'd demolished while waiting to be discovered nor how many he had left. He supposed it didn't matter, anticipating it all to make a reappearance before the night's end.

The faint crunch of twigs and rustle of fabric caught Shane's attention, and he lolled his head to the side. Muddy boots appeared out of nowhere, thumping across the wood of the dock like thunder rolling through his head. He groaned, draping an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the beam of a flashlight, striking his skull like lightning.

"Sit up," the farmer demanded. A scrap of metal assaulted his ears, and he grimaced, wondering if she was sharpening a knife on a flint block.

Maybe she's finally sick of your shit and came here to put you out of your misery.

The grim thought amused him, and he laughed, breaking into a throaty, fruitless cough. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted toward him instead, hardy and robust, and he finally sat up, catching the farmer pouring the black concoction into the lid of an ancient thermos. A backpack sat next to her, another thermos poking out along with an entire loaf of bread. She'd clearly come prepared.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the lid toward his face. The uncompromising quality of her tone slapped some sense into him, and he cautiously took it, shiny metal already warm to the touch. “Time to sober up.”

[my-excellent-bicycle]

John Robins - "The Darkness of Robins" (2017)

I started listening to Elis James and John Robins' radio show around two months ago, and a recurring quality I noticed was the level of vulnerability that occasionally shined through in their banter, especially from John. Most of the time it's light stuff about what they did that week, or talk about topics I really couldn't care less about (like snooker), but other times John would give updates on his mental health. Some examples I'd heard in the past few weeks were him improving his workout regimen and trying new health items like Chinese herbs, going on a weekend meditation retreat that left him sobbing in a Turkish restaurant, and going out to the pub with his "gal pals" to celebrate his birthday, which also involved tears being shed.

Because it was a BBC radio program whose content could only be stretched so far beyond "family-friendly" territory, I always got the sense John would probably recount his experiences a bit differently if not for the format of the show. He's alluded to long-standing struggles with depression and alcoholism, and the willingness to approach these topics in a very matter-of-fact manner made me respect him immensely. Although I couldn't help but feel there were other avenues where he'd explore these issues with a more raw approach, outside the confines of a BBC radio show.

Which brings me to The Darkness of Robins. I've heard some talk about this special in the past, specifically about how it was vaguely depressing, and that it won an award at the Edinburgh Fringe that year, but I've never properly given it a watch until today.

Okay, a bit of a personal insert here, which I don't typically do on this blog, but trust me it's relevant: a few months ago, I was seeing someone. He was a guy who I'd been talking to on and off for a while, but we'd never actually went on proper dates on a consistent basis until last summer. I was 23, and this was the first taste I've ever had of a serious relationship, since being closeted in high school/college basically prevented me from dating, and my home life only sealed that deal. But this was different. We did almost everything couples our age would do. He accepted me for who I was, regardless of how I presented myself that day, or if I was feeling down. I was beginning to think, this could be the real deal. I was so lucky to have him. This felt special.

After a couple months, around December, I started having doubts about how he was feeling. Surely by now, seeing as we'd been together for half a year, he'd want to make it official right? Every time I'd want to allude to the question, he'd either hesitate or put off answering it directly. The only time I directly asked him if he wanted to make things official, he said we should wait until he's finished going through the paperwork for his new apartment, which should be done by February. I took this at face value, but it still made me anxious. It didn't help that he went away with his family for two weeks over Christmas, during which we barely talked at all, and every possibility ran through my head.

When he came back, we met up and had dinner, and he came over mine. I debated on whether I should even bring up the question again, since he'd already told me to basically wait till February, and I didn't want to annoy him or sound desperate. But I bit the bullet and asked again, and this time he told me flat out he didn't want a relationship.

He explained how he wasn't in a place in his life where he could have a healthy relationship, and emotionally laid out some issues in his past, relating to his ex, and therapy he had growing up. I of course understood, assured him I wasn't mad, and I let him out. For the following few days, he would check in on me through text, where I'd do my best to hide the fact I was deeply hurt by his decision. After a few days, I said that I'd want time to myself, and he understood, and that was the last time we talked.

The way this whole ordeal played out still never left my mind, and the more time passed, the more I felt led on and I never got over him, even months later. Everything I'd do, whether it was going out to eat, seeing concerts, or even watching Britcom and blogging about it, were just distractions from thinking about him. Two weeks ago, we'd stopped talking for around four months, and I made the fatal mistake of checking his Instagram for the first time since. I saw his arm around a girl. I read the caption, it had a hashtag, "girlfriend." Shit.

I was livid. Then I felt betrayed, and then destroyed. I couldn't help but think there was something wrong with me. What couldn't I offer in those six months that he flaked out on me, yet she could offer that made him want to make her his girlfriend in only three? All my years of self-loathing, anxiety, and feelings of unworthiness suddenly flooded my brain. I might have snapped at a few friends who were trying to listen to me. I wasn't happy with anything.

I've calmed down since that initial reaction, but the disbelief and negative emotions are still very much present, which brings me to today, and when I put on The Darkness of Robins. In short, this special revolves around John's breakup with his then-fiancee Sara Pascoe, and his ensuing depression and slip into alcoholism. Right from the beginning, John really wants you to know that his brain isn't functioning healthily. Rather than confronting his problems, he'd just slide further into more self-loathing and sadness, and desperately clinging onto a past which can't be recovered. There's images of rotting apples, rivers of tears falling into a toilet, screaming into mirrors. Even the jokes, y'know, the whole reason this is special is even called "comedy," are delivered as such that when you think about them for a second too long, they become more harrowing and sad than hilarious.

At points it felt like a dozen punches to my stomach. Watching John yell to the crowd, during at times even staring down the camera for what felt like centuries, as he plotted out his despair and anxiousness, felt like looking in a mirror. It felt cathartic watching him describe the hopelessness of regaining love once it's lost. Yes, I recognize both of us experienced extremely different degrees of pain, but the same emotions are there, and it's something anyone who's went through any sense of romantic loss or longing can relate to. He so accurately described what it feels like to feel such strong self-hatred that it snowballs from the most mundane things, like shopping for cabinets at IKEA.

I won't spoil the entire thing of course, but the last ten minutes of this special is something that'll stick with me for a very long time. John laying out the slow, agonizing process of his breakup was heartbreaking to witness, and it's structured so masterfully that I'm surprised he hadn't thought of turning it into a novel with that level of detail.

When it ended, I felt numb, and reflected on my own emotions. And then I remembered the present version of John Robins I regularly hear on his radio show every week, and think about how the John I just watched was from several years ago. For reasons I can't articulate entirely, it did give me some hope that it won't always be like this. Maybe these emotions can be managed appropriately, and with time. As the cliche goes, it's a marathon, not a sprint.

There was a particular moment near the last third of the special that stuck out to me. Looking down the camera, John pulled from his inner monologue, saying he realized that "every mistake you've ever made in your life is because of you." At this point in the show, we see this bit as a way John drives the point home that he's been in a cycle of self-loathing for a very long time. But weirdly enough, I interpreted it in a weirdly optimistic way. If every mistake you've made is your own doing, then there shouldn't be anything stopping you from trying to change for the better.

And that's the sense I get from listening to John in 2023. Little adjustments, whether it's getting deep into a workout or trying Chinese herbs, can make a difference. Maybe this will inspire me to try making small changes to my life, in the hopes I'll be able to improve.

But yeah, you should watch The Darkness of Robins, it’s free in its entirety at that link. But maybe approach with caution if you’ve recently had your heart broken.

[libraryofcirclaria]

08 February 1287

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Eight: Jeo Brock

Things are calm tonight compared to the previous two days. But that doesn't mean everything is peaceful...more like an atmosphere of quiet tension. The sky outside was a dim and dark orange, all from the smokes coming from the unthinkable destruction in the Basin District. It's as if daylight never broke.

I still have not heard anything from Daylram or North Kempton, not through ticker or telephone. That makes me quite nervous, not only because of the plan breaking down, but because I have also heard about that possible Lykian agent on the loose somewhere in this country.

The Lykians are deeply infiltrating us, apparently. We still don't know where those Red Desert explosions came from. I presumed that an aircraft dropped them, but it turns out that the Retunian Air Force tried but were unable to detect any aircraft. There was some sort of blip on the scanners near the Circlarian Coast, but the Defense Department is not certain. Those Red Desert Bombs could very well have been hidden in boats or certain buildings or something like that.

It seems like the Lykians are a parasite, destroying us from the inside out.

So I wonder if Cray Fenton and Tom Pero even made it to the Great North to begin with. After all, I didn't hear from them since before they left North Kempton. I haven't checked in with Sari Frame or Meona Bell either.

Perhaps they are all being held hostage by the Lykians, somewhere in a hiding spot on their property. I know that dymensional planes in one country are a valuable asset to an invading country because of a dymensional plane's ability to store data in concealed ways, meaning that enemy agents can use them to communicate with one another and coordinate attacks from within. It was done before when the Acrean Kingdom launched their offensive upon the Isles controlled by the Vandalish. The Acreans found a way to hack Vandalian dymensional planes, thus figuring out some of their most important strategic moves before they could carry them out.

So it's possible. But I need to remember not to jump to that conclusion until I receive some sort of an obvious indicator. Since everything is shut down, with martial law and curfews and stuff like that, I just need to trust myself over the next three days or so that everything is going to be fine.

I know it makes no sense. But this is honestly the only thing I can do.

<- 07 February 1287 <- || -> 11 February 1287 ->

[thisisbbyzz]

On Truth

I have had this tumblr for 9 years dating back to February 2015. It was named after the late Hai Zi's collection of poems, released posthumously. So it would only make logical sense that I present one of his last works, albeit in English for ease of digestion. Not that I can speak more than a handful of words in Mandarin, which is more a testament to where this all might be heading.

Facing the Sea, with Spring Blossom

Starting tomorrow, I will be a happy person Feed a horse, split logs, travel the world Starting tomorrow, I will care for crops and vegetables I have a house; it faces the sea, and flowers bloom in spring warmth Starting tomorrow, I will contact every relative to tell them about my happiness As that lightning bolt of happiness told me I will tell each and every person Give every river and every mountain a warmhearted name As for strangers, I wish you happiness too I wish you a glittering future I wish you a lover who becomes a spouse I wish that you obtain happiness in this world I wish only to face the sea, where flowers bloom in spring warmth

If you have made it to this tumblr page, it means that you have some knowledge of who I am, some knowledge of the person that I am at this time, or the person that you perceive me to be. I don't know if any of those need to actually be related in any manner, because they could all be wildly different to each person.

Not that I see myself as anything other than what I know myself to be now. That is my kind way of saying, I doubt anyone will read this because I know myself to be an introvert and I know myself to be in the simplest terms a loser. But isn't that what actions are all about - shaping the person you see yourself as, because at the end of the day, aren't you the only one forced to live with yourself and within yourself.

To tie this back to something tangible, I have titled this On Truth. But with truth being speculative at best, what is truth? I think truth is transparency. I think truth is transparency in yourself and a belief above all to not hide from anything.

In my 30's, I've come to value what I believe as truth, i.e. transparency, and I know for my growth to continue, I must proverbially flop my transparency on the table like a hand that cannot be beaten in any number of card games.

I should preface one last time, or maybe this is my way of softening the blow, I will only speak to the identity of who I was and not the processes and outcomes of who I was. More clearly, I won't speak to my memories of events because I know those to not be clear, I know those to change with time, I know those to change with perception, and I know those to be misguided and self-serving. Often the memories we hold most closely, the ones that we believe have shaped our lives, might mean diddly squat to someone else.

And because of certain actions I've taken in my life that created certain memories, I do not feel comfortable speaking to them directly. Not for me, but for some of the people that may have been impacted by them. Those are memories for others to speak to, should they ever choose to. It wouldn't be fair to anyone that is not actively in my life to dox them and drudge up a past they might not want to speak to.

Instead, I will speak to my identity. Enough beating around the bush. If again, I am to be the person ultimately that I want to be, these are the objective truths or transparencies.

I was petulant, self-destructive, and a black-hole of a person. I was violent, a liar, jealous of everything that I didn't have that I wanted to have, a faker, an abuser, a cheater, and a substance-abusing cretin. I lied, lied about every part of my life. I had suicidal ideations, didn't know how to function at the most basic level, I have committed crimes, filed for bankruptcy to even more trivial compared to what I have stated previously like not learning to drive until I was much older to never taken care of my mental or physical health. Read and re-read that until it sinks in, because words like this are words until you can understand the types of behaviors and actions that can be associated with such words. Jack Spicer once spoke about how you don't have to know what a word means if you can understand the feeling it provokes in you. You don't have to know the exact details related to how I describe myself for you to understand how you'd react to a person with such traits and characteristics.

And I blamed all of that on everything under the sun other than my own choices. I made those choices.

I am not saying that I have not had generational trauma. Father, forgive me. You will be the only person I address directly here. I am sorry that I will never get to see you again. There is nothing to forgive you for, because you did the best you could. I'm sorry that your lasting memory of me is what I showed myself to be to you. I still see you every time I close my eyes. I know we will never be reunited, but I hope that who I am now is enough and who I want to become is enough that I get to see you in my child's eyes should I be so deserving. I hope that who I am becoming is enough to break any generational trauma that may have resided in us. I hope to never have to use that term again in my life.

I am willing to share all of these facts, truths, and transparencies here and now, because if someone is reading this, then you might not perceive me to be anything I have described above. That is fine, it might mean that I have made steps in my life to become something more.

I don't want to turn this into self-help, because there are people with much less than me, there are people that started with much less than me, and they never made the choices I made. They made the right choices, they were comfortable in their skin. I am only here by dumb luck, being somewhat attractive, an ability to talk in circles, being bailed out far more times than I can account for, failing upwards every step of the way, and I wholeheartedly believe being a white male.

So why have I become the person I am now, and I will leave that up to interpretation, that being the person I am now.

The truth is I don't know. I don't know what made me wake up one morning and make the changes I did. I cannot offer any sort of guidance there, because I don't think I have an iota of orginality in my body.

I think all I can say is hatred fueled me for so long of it. I hated every moment within myself and I used that to first destroy so many parts of my life and then I used it to rebuild the parts that I could with that emotion. But hatred can only take you so far, until you, or I, in this case have to find something else to drive you.

I thought I would find the answer of what would fix me in someone else. I have now come to understand that yes love is what will fix you, but love in yourself. Not loving who you are, but loving and understanding that to become who you want to be that you have to give yourself grace.

I cannot ask for forgiveness from anyone else and I cannot ask for forgiveness from myself. The choices I made and the impacts of those choices are what they are. The pain, the tragedies, even self-imposed - I've never forgotten any of them for a second. But now that second feels lightyears away. It feels like a person removed, it feels like seeing yourself on a black-and-white tv with an antenna that barely functions. It is all static.

And that's what all this is to anyone reading this - it is static, but for me this is cathartic. It is my opportunity to never hide behind who I have become now, because I need to accept where I have been to continue to forge the right direction.

I will leave the who I am now up to you, and more importantly, I will leave it up to me. But I will not hide my starting point.

Don’t run away from things that are unpleasant in order to embrace things that are pleasant. Put your hands in the earth. Face the difficulties and grow new happiness.

I am sorry, Zack. I am not sorry that you have to share this with the world, but I am sorry that you waited too long. I'm sorry that you hide behind progress to whitewash your choices. Live with the choices you have made. Make better choices. Be the person that you aren't deserving of, but the person you have been granted the opportunity to become. While no one else is counting on you, I am.

[ificouldflyhome369]

I know it's the sun and we cannot take that as an official confirmation, but if they are actually goong foward with the break up, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightlest. As you said harries love this relantionship but I really don't think HSHQ main concern is if people in the fandom love Harry relantionships or not. HSHQ wants to generate conversation and social media engagement and for that they need people outside of the fandom to care and talk about the relantionship and in this case with TR people outside of the fandom simply don't care. And even in the fandom, there is nowhere near the level of engagement there was with Harry previous relantionships. Usually larries talk shit about every woman Harry stunts with and that creates fights between larries and harries, and a lot of SM engagement, to the point Harry's name and the stunt girls' name are usually always trending. That just didn't happen with this stunt. With Taylor this simply didn't happen for two reasons, one because she is too private and nobody can find anything bad to say about her and second because she is not white, so everyone who tries to say anything bad about her will be acused of being racist, so no one dared to say anything, which led to way less conversation about this stunt in comparision with the previous ones.

So, I was already expecting this stunt to not last too long, I actually thought they would keep this until the begning of the year and they would "break up" in January or February, but it seems they are going to end this sooner.

Harrys girlfriends serve 2 purposes though. One is to create that conversation but second is for him to have a believable beard. And Taylor served that purpose and then some. Other than larries, no one thought this was a stunt. With Olivia most fans thought they were pr and I saw harries question who he was really with and why hide the relationship. They were straight up confused and some of them questioned his sexuality. Taylor eliminated any doubts they had because their relationship was so believable. No insane front page drama like with olivia. I thought that was the goal here to keep them low key and quiet. Breaking them up when he's not releasing an album or promoting the sphere or a single makes no sense to me.