#i love how. intertwined the themes in dr are

[the-acid-pear]

Y'know the whole being abandoned theme is often paired with the secret bosses as a trait they must have but, like, I think being abandoned is just a trait EVERYONE in deltarune has, lightner and darkner alike. With the bosses it is extremely straight forward but... Being lonely, abandoned, cast away, and such is def not a them thing.

[bisexualiteaa]

Getting interrupted 🤭

CW: smutty 18+! Suggestive themes, light mentions of/implied smut, getting caught, possible errors and possible OOC scenarios. Otherwise, enjoy! 🥰

John "Soap" MacTavish

- he was a sucker for someone in uniform, so it was no surprise that he would come and constantly visit you down at medical where you worked. It's how you both met and got together after all, so despite the pain and occasionally bad memories that came with it, it still held a place in his heart because you were there.

- he'd never admit it, but sometimes he would get himself hurt on purpose just to visit you, he always loved to see the smile on your face as you would shake your head and rest your hands on your hips before fixing him up perfectly, always having the cure to his every injury or ailment.

- sometimes these were the only moments where he'd get a chance alone with you, enjoying the way you'd always make a little time for him to talk and enjoy each others company for a little while afterwards.

- no one knew you guys were together, everyone knew he had a crush on you because, quite frankly, he wasn't very good at hiding it, but he didn't really want to either. But for the sake of your job, he didn't want to reveal anything should it get you in trouble.

- "you never stay out of trouble, do you?" You asked with a playful grin as you'd just finished stitching up a small gash on his arm. "If I stayed out a trouble, I'd never get the luxury t' see you" he replied with a flirty tone, making you chuckle. "Just be more careful please, I need you in one piece" you replied, kissing his cheek as you sat next to him, having just patched up his arm. "I will, don't worry your pretty head lass, I'll always come back t' you" he assured, making you smile and hum in appeasement before you leaned in, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss. His hand came to cup your cheek as you held his other one in your own, fingers intertwined as you shared in your moment together. When you two were alone together, the world finally felt at peace, no wars to think about, no stress weighing down on you, all you needed to think about was your Johnny.

- So it was no shock that your kiss took a turn to something a little deeper, a sigh leaving you as your free hand rested on his collarbone. "Careful bonnie, go on like tha' and I'll be walkin' outta here with a whole different problem" he said, making you giggle. "Wouldn't half mind fixing that either, too bad you don't know how to keep quiet" you quipped with a grin, making him laugh at your remark. "Cheeky bugger" he replied with a matching grin before pulling you in again, kissing you as if tomorrow you'd be gone.

- But sadly, even the best moments must come to an end, neither of you were expecting the way it had however.

- "Sorry to bother doc, got room to squeeze in a- woah!" Spoke Gaz as he pulled back the curtain, seeing your form loomed over the side of the exam bed, kissing his comrade. You gave a short gasp as you both jumped apart, blushing wildly after being caught red handed. "Shit, I'm SO so sorry!" You spoke, bumping into your cart in your panicked frenzy as you tried to back away and button your uniform back up as to not look suspicious, but it was already too late.

- "Sorry Gaz, appointment got prolonged. Doctors, am I right? Gotta poke around an' check everywhere for some reason" Johnny spoke, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with a slight blush but trying to joke his way out of things, as per usual. Gaz gave a chuckle. "Explains why you come down here so often. Here I thought you were just trying to get a good record built up for disability, didn't know you had a Dr. Feel Good situation goin' on" he teased with a grin. "I'm gonna get in so much trouble.." You muttered, holding your face in your hands out of embarrassment. "Relax doc, your secret's safe with me. I promise. It's about time you finally went for" Gaz assured you before offering a genuinely happy smile to Johnny. "I know all to well of the draw of the uniform myself" he added, looking towards one of the other doctors, her offering a giggle and flirty wave his way. "Well I'll be damned" Johnny spoke with a chuckle. "And looks like she's got an opening, so you two just earned yourself some more alone time" Gaz said, making you and Johnny both chuckle. "I owe ya one" Johnny spoke before Gaz walked away, turning back to you as you closed the curtain again, alotting you both some privacy for just a little bit longer.

König

- You were in his room, laying in bed together, enjoying the time alone after months of him being away.

- It started out innocent enough, just enjoying a movie together, but one innocent kiss turned to two, and when wandering hands found their way down your sides to your ass, playful giggles soon turned to quiet moans and it wasn't long before things turned just a little more heated.

- You were on top of him, straddling his lap as his kisses began littering down your neck, his large, rough hands at your hips moving you back and forth against him. A quiet moan and sigh fell from you, both of you doing your best to keep quiet as not to raise suspicions.

- "How I missed you, schatz" he told you, making you smile with drunken love in your eyes. "Missed you too, Kö" you replied sweetly, your lips now trailing down his neck to his bare chest in a way that he swore injected fire straight into his veins.

- You were topless as you sat there straddling him, indulging in one of those moments of kissing one another deeply, only stopping at the feel of each other smiling before resuming. Light, breathy giggles and quiet sighs of pleasure leaving you as you both were caught up in the heat of the moment.

- That was when you both heard the knock at the door, making you both jump. "Shit" you said quietly but in a panic. "Hide" he replied, getting up to put on a pair of pants, allowing you some time to scramble to grab your shirt and any trace you were here and hide in his bathroom, staying dead silent as you did.

- You heard the sound of him talking to Captain Price as you were hidden, relief washing over you once the door had finally closed and he walked away. You peaked back out from the bathroom, seeing König look at you as the look of panic finally fell from his face. "Close call" you spoke with a grin. "Way too close" he replied as you came back to him. "Ya know, if you just came over to my place, we wouldn't have to sneak around and worry about getting caught" you mused, making him chuckle as he leaned down. "Maybe I like the thrill a little bit" he admitted, making you giggle lightly before kissing him once more, your arms draped over his shoulders as you did.

- "Just keep it down in there" Price's voice spoke from the other side of his door, making you panic once more. "König! This is why we should be at my house!" You said, face red as a beet from fluster, and König couldnt help but grin at your embarrassment. Price gave a laugh as he walked away.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

- Everyone knew you were his, he made it very clear that he would break the neck of anyone who would dare try to have a piece of you, or even look in your direction with malintent.

- He didn't need PDA to show it either, when you both were out with his comrades, or out in public, a protective arm laid around your waist yes, but even when it didn't, all it took was one look from Simon for someone to deeply reconsider their intentions with you.

- So one night, when you were both coming out to his truck for a smoke from a night out drinking with friends, the liquid courage seeping through your veins, you decided to push his buttons a little.

- There he stood, leaned against his truck, having just finished taking drags off of his cigarette before putting it out with his foot. His balaclava was still pulled up to rest on the bridge of his nose, showing off the lower half of his face, so you took the chance.

- You smiled as he grinned when your fingers slid along his jaw and up under the balaclava just a little, keeping it up so that you could kiss him. The taste of smoke, tobacco, and whiskey mixed together in a taste that was just so *him.* You couldn't help the surge of butterflies that came through you as his hands rested on your hips, the way he kissed you always left your mind reeling as they were always so intimate, so shameless.

- "Just couldn't wait, could ya?" He asked, making you chuckle as you bit your lip, your cheeks heating up from the drinks buzzing in you as well as the heat that always burned in you anytime he kissed you. "You know what bourbon does to me, and you know what *you* do to me" you replied with a playful grin, making him chuckle once more as you said it, poking his chest to prove your point before dragging your finger down some. "I'm very aware" he replied.

- Your finger looped into his belt, giving a strong tug to pull him closer to you, your lips just centimetres apart now before you closed the distance once more. "You're playing a dangerous game, lovie" he spoke in a low tone, making your grin only stretch wider. "That so? Gonna put me in my place then?" You challenged bravely, making his eyes hold a different intensity. Hunger, a predatory one at that. "Get your ass in the truck. Now" he ordered.

- Needless to say, it was no shock to him that you both managed to find your way in the back seat of his truck, music playing just loud enough in the background to add to the atmosphere as your panting from the deep kiss filled the air in the car.

- You grinned far too devilishly as you rolled your hips in time to the beat of the song, enjoying your moment of power over him. But he was there to remind you that even if you were on top and straddling him, that did not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean you were in control. His hand came to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tugged it back, making your head dip back as he did. You gave a sinful moan as he did, roughly thrusting his hips up into you. "Your misbehavin' has gotten a bit out of hand, love. Someone oughtta teach you some fuckin' manners" he damn near *growled* in response, making you whimper as his hips stilled completely. "Gonna be good f' me? Stop bein' a fuckin' brat?" He asked, making you nod your head yes vigorously, earning another yank on your hair and a powerful thrust up into you. "Answer properly" he ordered. "Yes sir, gonna be good for you, I promise!" you let out, his hand leaving your hair as he started his pace up again. "Then be a doll and take it" he spoke, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continued his brutal pace.

- Anyone on the outside wouldn't have known, the music, not too loud to be suspicious, but perfectly loud enough to cover your joint symphony of moans, pants, and grunts, paired with the sounds of skin against skin. So Soap being none the wiser, thought it'd be safe to go to Ghost's truck to tease you both for being gone for so long.

- Then a hand came to the foggy window, smearing enough of the condensation away to reveal the both of you in the back seat. What he wasn't anticipating was the sight of you on top of him, fully clothed thankfully, but it was clear what was going on. "Shit!" You exclaimed when you saw Soap's eyes widen before he looked away, knowing he'd be in deep shit for catching you both. Simon's eyes followed yours to the window, catching sight of the reason why you were hiding your face in your hands. A devious grin came to his lips, deciding to roll the window down some, not too much to show too much, but enough to send you into a panic. "Si! What the hell are you doing??" You asked, making the scot give a chuckle. "Was comin' t' check an' see if you two were still alive, but clearly you're takin' more than a smoke break" he replied. "Started off as one anyway.." You spoke with a nervous look, making him chuckle once again before turning around and walking back. "Try not to kill 'er" Soap spoke before walking back inside.

- You certainly learned your lesson that night, hiding your face that burned bright red as you left the back seat, Simon of course delighted in your torture as you both went back inside to sit back at the table, getting to take in all the knowing grins from his friends as they all teased you for the rest of the night. To Simon's standards of course, he'd never let anyone take it too far. ❤️

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hi Sarah! I'm with Mr TSS (baffled by the anon who only listened to midnights twice) Anyways, on my relisten today I was struck by the way the albums closing tracks (regular vs 3am so not counting HD or YLM here), the stark difference between Mastermind and Dear Reader. Both of those tracks seem somewhat meta and seeing them as a lens through which the entire album can be viewed is giving me much food for thought. Curious about your thoughts as a fellow DR enthusiast.

Yes! I've thought and dwelled on this a lot (absolutely as a fellow "Dear Reader" enthusiast tyVm!!!!!!!)

One of my favourite things about "Mastermind" and "Dear Reader" is how it continues the mental conflict present throughout the entire Midnights album. There are so many songs scattered on the tracklist that present a person cleaved emotionally in two and talking about similar themes or circumstances, but casting them in opposing lights. Love is magical and mystical ("Snow On the Beach"); love is terrifying and scary and will only hurt me ("Labyrinth"). My self-worth and value is worth loudly protecting and claiming ("Bejeweled"); I am my own worst critic ("Anti-Hero").

There's more but diving into Mastermind/Dear Reader specifically is pulling apart these most closely held truths about yourself and playfully admitting them while also lamenting in shame over them. You knew that I'm a mastermind ... but you should find another guiding light. I like to think of the standard closure as the true coda and the deluxe closure as a post-script. And there's a lot of intertwine in the relationship between these two songs where again they're similar feelings but captured at different points in the narrator's existence and experience. I think that's what I love about Midnights is that it bottles up the intense highs and lows of what it means to embody the full human experience. Things are never just one thing. The same thing can be both life giving (this person loves me back!) and life destroying (I'm actually going to be alone forever inside my head).

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty-Five — Road to Sanctuary

“By the time I agreed to work with him, he was sure he was onto something bigger,” Zeke continued. “It was a whole conspiracy. Curdun Cay was impossible to find, but apparently he had a group of hackers that managed to break through once. Barely got into a database for experiments before the FBI were at their door.”

7k words | 23—30 min read time | TRIGGER WARNING: death mention, hallucination mention | CHAPTER THEME:

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A very large, very heartfelt thanks for @lobotomizedlemon for trusting me with Alessia Donovan. I've adored this OC since they made her, and I love her story and simply everything she made Sia into. To be able to make this story her home, to be able to claim this her canon and intertwine her route with my own story? Well, I can't think of a higher honor. Love you babe! And I hope you all love this character as much as I do.

I was surprised that the drive to Boston was faster than the one to New Marais. 

Everyone rotated in the gutted out van throughout the two day drive, trying to stay comfortable. Zeke no longer had an inflatable bed — and after hearing about some of his escapades while on the road, I was happy for it — but we ended up finding this large camping mattress thing that we shoved in the back, edge curling up against the back of the van. 

The East Coast was…not a good place. Definitely not one to try and drive through, at least. The closer to the Atlantic ocean we were, the worse everything got. 

Some areas were lucky enough to heal from the Beast. Washington, DC was never touched, and some cities like Roanoke and Charlotte in North Carolina found a way to build up from the rubble. It was a miracle New York City wasn’t toppled, but Philly wasn’t as fortunate. But there were other areas that were ghost towns. I was convinced Baltimore was a myth for the longest time as a kid like Atlantis or El Dorado — till Dad forced us to watch Hairspray: the Musical. It just wasn’t there anymore. The Smoky Mountains had a canyon carved through them that refused to grow any foliage, just dirt and rock and remains of getaway cabins that no one but vandals had bothered to touch in the last twenty-five years. 

Driving to Boston, though, was a challenge; there was no way to ride the coast all the way north, not anymore. We traveled up to Pittsburgh, then even further north to Albany. We couldn’t stick close to the coast here. Anything near the Atlantic was gone, either ghost town or slum or absorbed by the shore. That carnage stopped just under New York City, though, in the waters off of the shores of New Jersey — meaning once we passed the latitude that used to hold Empire City, we could finally travel East. 

It was the dead of night by the time we left Albany after getting a late dinner, Dad sleeping on my right while Brent was laying on my left. Zeke was driving as Dr. Sims worked on his laptop, the sound of phonk music leaking from the earbuds shoved into his ears. I was on my side, trying and failing to sleep as Brent shifted beside me again. And again. And again.

My eyes snapped open. “Dude, would you stop?” 

Brent groaned lightly. “I drank too much coffee at that breakfast joint,” 

I chuckled softly. “I warned you,”

“Shut up.” Brent’s chest heaved a bit with his sigh, and then he finally looked over at me. “This isn’t how I thought that ‘family road trip’ Dad always talked about would go.”

“I know,” I sighed. “Always thought it would be…better than this. After we graduated too, like he said.” 

Brent hummed, staying silent for a minute before saying, “School started three days ago. Mei was telling me about it.” 

God, I had forgotten entirely about school. How was I supposed to even care about it right now? “Think our online classes did too?” 

“They did,” Brent said. “Did you not get the email?” 

“I…” I drew off, feeling the phone burn a hole in the back pocket of my jeans. I barely looked at it since the day I was released from the hospital; I knew if I got on it, I’d break and check out more about the tsunami, and I couldn’t take the image of another flooded house or a funeral with my essence as the victim’s reaper. “I don’t really…use my phone much.” 

Brent looked at me for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” he said, sounding entirely unconvinced. “But yeah, school started Tuesday.”

“I don’t even think I could do any homework right now if you held me at gunpoint,” I admitted

Brent chuffed. “Yeah. Yeah, me too. It almost feels stupid compared to the monsters and Archangel and — fucking time travel. You ever just think about that for a bit?” He asked me, eyes alight. The caffeine was definitely talking. 

But he had a point. “Yeah,” I admitted. Whenever I wasn’t wallowing in some pathetic self pity like my issues mattered more than what I created, I couldn’t help but think about the wild fact that time travel existed. “How do you think he did it?” 

“Probably some overly complicated bullshit that doesn’t exist now,” Brent muttered, light from a lamppost crossing over his face. “Otherwise I feel like Dad would have known about it, ‘cause there’s no way Kessler would’ve been the only time traveler if it was still possible. Or, currently possible.” He huffed, that same look crawling on his face when he was solving a problem or had managed to crack the catcher’s signs on the plate. “Imagine if we could figure that shit out. The things we could do.”

I could think of a list of things I’d love to do if I knew how to time travel — stopping my tsunami being at the top. Brent, though, had different priorities, as after a moment he murmured, “I think I’d try to meet Mom, if I could. Maybe Uncle Brent, Reggie. Dad’s parents.” 

Mom. I forced myself to breathe deeply as my mind pulled forward images of the hallucination when I was dying or dead or whatever; her outfit made of opaque neon and the freckles on her face. The way her eyes shined like Brent’s. 

“Hey, can I…” I drew off; no one but Zeke knew about this and I never took the time to actually describe the hallucination. It felt like a fever dream in retrospect, and yet I needed someone, anyone else to know about it. That’s his mom too. And that’s my twin. I knew I could trust him with anything. “Can I tell you something? You can’t make fun of me,” 

Brent huffed, smiling crookedly. “No promises,” he teased. But when he glanced at me, examining my expression, the smirk fell. “What’s up?” 

I swallowed, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Dad was asleep before turning my head back, leaning in a bit. “I…I saw Mom,” 

Whatever Brent was expecting me to say, it wasn’t that. He blinked a few times in confusion before managing to work out a, “W-what?” 

I explained everything; the field I woke up in, me looking for him first before thinking I’d caught a glimpse of Dad. How I knew this wasn’t where I was before I fell but how I’d gotten there was fuzzy. The forest, the mine, the size of it all. 

And Mom. 

Seeing Mom standing in that drained pond littered with crystal growths. Her face, her words, her smile. I’d told Zeke about this before, sure — but reliving it with Brent was something else entirely. It was a relief to, for a moment, act like it happened and not something I needed to keep secret for fear of either seeming insane or instigating some sort of reaction out of Dad.

By the end, Brent was speechless, chewing so hard on the inside of his cheek I was sure he was going to gnaw a hole straight through it. “It felt so real, Brent,” I murmured, breathing shakily. Retelling every bit of the hallucination nearly made me cry, multiple times. 

Brent was staring at the little bit of mattress between us before he exhaled, looking back up to meet my eyes. “What do you think it was?” He asked solemnly. 

“When…when I talked to Zeke alone about the tar and Cole and all that, he said that it made Cole see stuff too.” I began. “Apparently breathing it in was enough to get the guy to trip — and it got in my blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because of that.” 

He nodded, following my train of thought and adding, “Isn’t it normal for people to imagine dead relatives when they’re dying? They see them standing in the corner of the nursing home or something and think it’s time to leave. Maybe it was something like that?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Sad to think that that hallucination has been one of the best parts of the last two weeks.” 

“Right?” Brent scoffed. “Hasn’t even been a month since we were freaking out about exams.”

I couldn’t help but agree; those dreams of college and comic books seemed so small compared to everything else right now. “Things are so bad now,” I grumbled.

Brent shrugged. “I mean, it’s not all bad. We finally get to see Aunt Sia’s new place."

We hadn’t seen her since the charity gala in Seattle two years ago; between her regular work with COLE and all the added political stuff from the last two years, she’s been too busy to even visit. The New England chapter needed a lot more support than the West Coast, anyways. 

The closer we got to Boston, the more apparent it became how much this entire region was struggling. Boston looked overpopulated between the cars in the street and the homeless on the sidewalk, like it never truly figured out what to do with the refugees from the south before the population started growing again. Every bridge had a plethora of tents underneath it, every soup kitchen had a line a mile long behind it. Brent’s head stayed on a swivel the entire way through the city, and I couldn’t blame him; the buildings here just looked older in a breathtaking way, a testament to this area being one of the first to be settled in America. We both made sure to make jokes towards Dad about a sign pointing towards Rowes Wharf, and watched the skyline with pristine glass and steel buildings reflect back the sunrise as we approached the outskirts of town, turning down more one-way side streets. 

The van lurched forward a bit as Dad pushed on the breaks and parked on the side of the road. There was a row of townhomes nearly touching each other, the alley only small enough to hold trash cans and barely any wiggle room between them, hiding untouched white snow instead of the grayish sludge on the street.

“This is it,” Dr. Sims confirmed Dad’s unasked question. 

As we got out and began fishing for our bags that were stored along the edges of the mattress pad, there was a slamming door, a blur of red and black clothing with fishnets, and a sudden huff from Dr. Sims, who breathlessly laughed. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greeted. 

Aunt Sia was a small woman, but that never stopped her. She took to life like she was bigger than it all, and made it bend to her. That’s what I loved most about her; being able to see someone so small do so much inspired me a lot as someone nearly the same size. I wish I had that much confidence. She almost took down Dr. Sims with her hit, arms wrapped around his waist like she was going to pick him up and carry him back into the house. 

Aunt Sia pulled away, looking up at Dr. Sims with the same face you would an old friend. “I’m so happy to see you!” She chirped, messy bright red updo bouncing with the declaration. Her voice had that softness to it Disney would reserve for its cutest characters, the sorta squeaky tone that would let the main character know hey, I can trust this one. 

Which I guess is why Dr. Sims called her ‘Squeaks,’ though I’d never heard anyone call her that before. I didn’t even know they knew each other personally. 

Aunt Sia turned to Dad, smile going soft. “Delsin,” she gently said. Dad smiled back, and he moved in to give her a hug — and was promptly interrupted in his movement by a quick thwack to the side of the head. 

“Ow!” He complained, looking at Aunt Sia. “What was that for?” 

“Everything that’s happened, and you didn’t think to call me once?” she demanded, now scowling. This was the other side of her I loved; she was a no-nonsense woman. Many arguments between Brent and I when we were younger were quickly extinguished by her ability to see through our bullshit. “I’ve had to find out things from the news or Arthur or—”

“I know, I know,” Dad grumbled, rubbing the spot she hit. “You’ve already yelled at me about it.”

Aunt Sia scoffed. “And I’m going to keep yelling at you about not telling me a thing about my babies,”

At this, she glanced behind him, eyes settling on Brent and I and immediately growing in excitement. “Oh, look at you two!” She cooed, pushing past Dad, who stumbled back a step and rolled his eyes. 

She went to Brent first, regarding him fully. “God, you’ve gotten huge,” she murmured, pulling him into a hug and coming to the middle of his chest. Brent had a huge growth spurt in the time she was gone, and she didn’t look at all happy about the fact as she pulled away from him. “You can’t get any bigger, it makes me feel bad.”

Brent chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he jokingly promised. 

Her eyes traveled over his form to me, somehow getting even softer. “Jeanie,” she smiled, moving to hug me next. 

She was always gentle, in spite of how badass she was. The same woman throwing bricks over bridges at passing DUP convoys was also someone who would hug you softly, like she knew you needed it more than she did. It was weird being a little bit taller than her now, too, but other things never change — like how she still smelled like cinnamon. 

Aunt Sia pulled away and her hands went to cup my face, gray eyes examining me. I knew that look, I knew what she was doing, but it felt less judgmental coming from her. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered before lowering her hands and regarding the group, giving Zeke a nod of acknowledgement before declaring, “Well — who’s hungry?”

“You’ve made a lot of work for me, Delsin,” Aunt Sia chastised, plopping down a bamboo bin on top of all of the COLE paperwork on her round dining table. 

“I know,” he grumbled, unwrapping the bandaging around his arms. 

Brent and I were on the other side of the kitchen, chowing down on breakfast. God, I missed Aunt Sia’s cooking almost as much as I missed her.

Dad glanced over at us. “You act like you’ve never had a homemade meal before,” he jested. Mostly. He did look a little offended.

Brent, mouth full of at least three different types of food, spoke past it to say, “It’s different when it’s Aunt Sia’s food,” 

“Bean, not with your mouth full,” Aunt Sia laughed, smiling so hard the single dimple on her left cheek popped out. Brent turned beet — or maybe bean — red at the childhood nickname and muttered something about being a man that we all ignored.

Dr. Sims moved to finish undoing Dad’s bandaging for him as Aunt Sia and Zeke began pulling things out of the bin. Even more files, a few different flash drives, a couple chips that were probably dead drops. “I kept it all,” she said, looking up at the group. Her eyes seemed to immediately flit to Dr. Sims’ back, like she was talking to him specifically. “I don’t have a way to listen to any of the audio anymore—“ 

“I do,” Zeke said, reassuring her. “In my bag. I’ll go get it,”

“Good! Good, okay then. Delsin, I also still have some of the things from Seattle, too.” She added. 

Dad nodded, “From Project Sanctuary? Or the Conduit Rights League?”

Aunt Sia shrugged. “Both. I used my volunteer time at one to inform the other, so I suppose they go hand-in-hand.”

“Is that how you two met?” I asked suddenly. It was very obvious that they’d known each other from before — it was more a question of how before it was. “You knew Dad as…Delsin? Even back then?”

Aunt Sia looked at Dad — and then glanced at Dr. Sims before letting her eyes return to me. “I did, but it’s not how we met. Eugene introduced me.”

Brent blinked, swallowing away a mouthful of food before asking, “So you knew Dr. Sims then too? Did you all meet in Seattle?”

Dr. Sims chuffed, eyes far away like he was reliving some memory. “Oh, no. Alessia was my closest friend in high school, before everything,”

My eyes went wide, and I glanced between the two of them. “You’re kidding,” They’ve known each other since high school? Since my age? Maybe even earlier?

Aunt Sia put a hand on Dr. Sims’ shoulder, squeezing once. “We met on an old video game,” she informed us, laughing slightly. “Didn’t even know we went to the same school together until I…helped him out.”

“Hard to mistake a voice like hers,” Dr. Sims chuckled. 

“Right, ‘cause that’s what gave it away, not you playing on your computer during lunch.” Aunt Sia rolled her eyes. “But yes, I…I’ve known your father for a while. We did a bit of work together in Seattle.”

Dad was still unwinding his bandaging, saying through the bit in his teeth, “Alessia was the only way I could stay in touch with Eugene, after your mother died.” He let the bandage fall from his mouth as he peeled the brown away from his forearm. “Couldn’t reach out to him normally. Had to be careful.”

I nodded, looking down at the ground; Aunt Sia must have followed Dad out of Seattle when everything happened. It made sense, right? And I’m actually really glad he had some support during that time. Losing your fiancée, becoming a single father, having to go into witness protection — that sounded like hell. At least he had someone.

But still, it all just felt like another lie. 

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the negativity as I instead concentrated on Dad, who was beginning to peel the gauze off of his arms. “Do you need any help?” I offered, setting the plate on the counter behind me. I wanted to be helpful in some way, especially since I couldn’t do anything to prevent this injury in the first place. My dreams were plagued by the gaps that riddled Dad’s skin, only nightmares would paste them to my skin instead. And I wouldn’t be able to fast track the healing like he could.

Dad shook his head. “I’m hoping it’s done healing,” he said. “And if not I shouldn’t need much medicine.” And luckily for him, he was right; the skin on his arms was fully healed, save for some redness and flaking that he shooed away with a quick rub under the faucet, like it was nothing. 

I couldn’t help but look at him in jealousy as he moved to gather all his used bandages and throw them away, arms fresh and recovered. 

Zeke walked back into the room, that little device he used to listen to the other dead drops in his hands. “Here you are, Alessia,” he said, handing it to Aunt Sia, who immediately began trying to plug it into one of Dr. Sims’ computers. 

“So what are you guys hoping to figure out?” Aunt Sia asked as she flipped the USB port of the cord after it refused to plug in. 

Dad grabbed a blueberry pancake and shoved it in his mouth sans syrup, helpfully saying between chews: “Anything.”

Dr. Sims decided to clarify. “Zeke has a journal from Dr. Wolfe. The First Sons scientist, not the reporter. According to him, they had ice soldiers a lot like the ones that attacked Salmon Bay. And they swiped some hard drives from the underground base in New Marais that I’m trying to recover files on.”

Aunt Sia blinked. “You think…whoever this Archangel is, they’re tied to the First Sons somehow?” 

“Well, we’re hoping we’re wrong,” Dad said. He then looked over at Dr. Sims. “Have you gotten anywhere with the hard drives? And the journal?”

Dr. Sims didn’t answer immediately; he turned to one of the computers, opening some sort of program file and clicking away. “Hopefully it finished translating every page of the journal on our ride up here,” he muttered, clicking around some more. A mouse scroll, and he said, “Almost done, it’s on the last few pages.” 

“And the hard drives?” Zeke asked, moving to approve some pop up on Dr. Sims’ computer. 

Dr. Sims glanced at his hand disapprovingly when he touched the ‘enter’ button, taking a moment to respond, “I made pretty decent headway there, but I can’t guarantee we’ll get anything good from it. These drives are both futuristic and from the nineteen-nineties. It's old and yet unlike tech I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t help that the military wiped them. A triple pass of the entire storage space is hard to reverse.” 

Dad flinched at that, like something about the statement mattered more than if it was just some random joe that did the same. “So what’re the chances you’d be able to recover anything?” He asked. 

Dr. Sims sighed. “Right now? Slim.” Dad groaned and Dr. Sims held up a hand. “But, if I could get your support on this…I might have more luck.” 

Aunt Sia looked at the man curiously as he readjusted his glasses. “Isn’t that dangerous?” She asked, immediately concerned. I glanced over at Brent who looked just as confused, answering my unasked question with a shrug — what on Earth were they talking about?

“It is,” Dr. Sims said. “But with Delsin’s help, I should be fine.” 

Aunt Sia didn’t look convinced at all, but she sighed hard. “Okay. Do you need anything?” 

Dr. Sims shook his head. “Just Delsin.” 

Dad moved, taking a spot by Zeke as Aunt Sia stepped aside, arms crossed and with that worried scowl on her face. Dad’s hand came out and he pressed it against the screen, the press of his hand causing the screen to warp and bend as the home screen became lost to pixels that popped like static, crawling off of the screen with each crackle and onto Dad’s skin as he drained video. The screen flickered but didn’t go completely black like I had seen before, motors whirring to turn it back on like it was programmed specifically to fight against the drain. 

Dad moved his hand and nodded to Dr. Sims, who pressed his own palms against the main laptop of his hub and closed his eyes, brow furrowing. The screen grew brighter, the light encapsulating his hands as he glowed blue with it, and there was a flash that disoriented me. “Ah, fuck!” Brent exclaimed from somewhere. 

I blinked hard as sight slowly returned to my eyes, looking around; Dr. Sims wasn’t in the room anymore. Dad was still standing in the same spot, hands out as he kept a stream of pixelated blue between him and the computers. “Wh—” I cut off, looking around a bit just in case I missed Dr. Sims. “Where did…”

“Damn, so that’s what it looks like when he does that?” Zeke asked, looking at the screen. 

I looked around Dad at the computer screen, faltering when I saw it; it was blue like most of Dr. Sims’ video powers, but the screen warped and twisted on itself like an oil spill in a gas station parking lot, bending and churning and swirling. Dr. Sims was here, with files on his computer screen…and now he wasn’t, and the screen looked like something that could be stepped through. “Is…” I drew off, glancing at Aunt Sia, “Is Dr. Sims—”

She nodded, “In the computer, yep.”

Brent looked over at me wide eyed, balking. “He’s in the computer? Like a virus?”

Dad decided to speak this time, “He’s rebuilding the database from the inside out. And I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t run into an irreversible issue and dies, so if I could have some silence, that’d be great.”

Well, jeez, with a risk like that, he didn’t have to ask twice. 

We all stayed quiet as Dad held his hands towards the computer screen, brow furrowed in concentration. Aunt Sia seemed too nervous to not move around, succumbing to a pace that had her walking the five steps back and forth between the back door and the swinging door that led to her living room, combat boots threatening to carve a hole in the tile. 

The fans on the laptop whirred to life, kicking up like a helicopter trying to lift off, and Aunt Sia froze, turning to watch the screen. Brent and I did too; the ambient color shifting of the screen left, the entire thing vibrating from the center outwards. The edges of the screen got brighter, and Brent and I both made sure to look away this time, me turning around completely to face him while he hid his eyes in the crook of his elbow. The blast of energy that happened was so strong that I could feel the wave of warm air, my eyelids going pink with the flash as Dr. Sims reentered the room, huffing like he had just ran a marathon. 

Aunt Sia’s shoes hit the ground so hard the floor vibrated, and I turned in time to see her push Dad aside a bit and wrap an arm around Eugene’s shoulder, demanding, “Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah,” He huffed out, forcing a deep breath. He looked behind himself at Dad, “I got somewhere. Didn’t manage to dig up a lot, but I got something. I just need to finish refining it.” 

Dad nodded as his hands fell to his side, relieved. “Good, okay. Hopefully there’ll be something worth it in there.” 

“We can look at this stuff in the meantime,” Zeke decided, moving to begin to pull stuff out of the bamboo bin Aunt Sia had brought out.

Aunt Sia began flipping through the files Zeke set near her, Dad moving to her side. “This is a lot more than I sent you guys,” he said. 

“We just needed you to do the dirtiest work for us,” Aunt Sia said with a hint of a tease to her voice, looking over her shoulder at Dad. 

Dad gave her a sarcastic smile, picking up a random manilla envelope from the pile to open. He was always so comfortable around Aunt Sia — I missed their cohesion over the years since she moved. “What all is in this? Do you remember?”

Aunt Sia trilled her lips. “Not a lot that wasn’t revealed in the UN trial,” she sighs, holding up various papers and flipping through them. “What Augustine subjected the Conduits to, natural RFE, the Ray Sphere. They were trying to figure out something about Conduits, but…we didn’t figure out what before Raymond Wolfe died. You went and tore down the DUP and so many files disappeared.”

Brent, food finally finished, decided he wanted to remind everyone he was in the room by saying, “So all the messed up things they did were erased?”

Dad held up a finger. “Hold on — the Ray Sphere?” he asked. 

Aunt Sia nodded. “You’ve gotta remember, whatever the First Sons were working on in New Marais? They got it. And that includes—” Aunt Sia cuts off, looking through the files in her hands and then two on the table before handing one to Dad. “—the Ray Sphere prototype.”

Dad took the file, thumbing through the pages as Brent and I did the worst job at trying to be discreet while looking over his shoulder. 

I could remember the Ray Sphere Zeke showed Brent and I, the mock up that was in that journal. The near perfect roundness, the little indent like the crater that held the scary secret weapon on the Death Star imprinted on its dome. This? This was nothing like it. It was a contraption held together by wire and hope, more pill-shaped than round and with two handles on each side as if to steer it. I wasn’t close enough to read the notes, but Dad seemed to find something that shocked him. “‘Unrefined raythium mined from the Earth’s core?’” he read aloud, looking to Aunt Sia for confirmation. 

Brent’s brow furrowed. “Raythium? Like the stuff in the Earth’s core?”

“By the core,” Dr. Sims corrected. “It’s what remains of Theia when it crashed into Earth eons ago.”

“It’s what causes the Ray Field too, right?” I asked, moving to sit at the table opposite the adults. I remembered that from my Earth Science exam two weeks ago; the radioactive remains of Theia were close enough to the core to be pulled into the whole process that made Earth’s electromagnetic field, the churning with the iron and stuff in the center making the Ray Field. 

Dr. Sims nodded, “And what Conduits use to convert energy into their conduvergence matter.”

“I still don’t get how that works,” I admitted with a mutter. 

Dad looked like he was working through some sort of math problem in his mind. “So the First Sons were…trying to use raythium to activate Conduits? Like MacGrath?”

“Not Cole,” Zeke chimed in, moving to lean against a wall. “He got the end product when they perfected it and started using rayacite instead. But the Blast cores Cole used to ‘power up?’ Those came from New Marais and Bertrand’s testing.”

“Wonder if that’s why Bertrand’s power was so messed up,” Dad hummed. “If he used raythium to activate his power, he basically nuked himself with radiation. Isn’t raythium really radioactive?”

Dr. Sims leaned back in the kitchen chair. “It is. If Earth’s geodynamo process was any different, and a fraction of the radioactive RFE in the core leaked out, there’d be no life on Earth.”

Brent and I glanced at each other, grimacing; that was a fun fact we could have lived without. 

“Let’s just…start with what we know,” Aunt Sia said, turning to her bin after an awkward pause and digging in it. Eventually she pulled out a small manilla folder with some sort of crinkly window on it, revealing a dead drop a lot like the ones Zeke kept in his way-less-organized ammo box. “Here, Angel, put this in.” 

She held it out and Dr. Sims took it from her, him taking long enough to play it for me to look up at Brent as he mouthed Angel? at me with a raised eyebrow. I guess they really did know each other. 

The speakers on the leftmost laptop crackled a bit, the computer’s motors picking up as the dead drop began to play. “Cole’s Gift: Short Lived or Just Beginning, by Raymond Wolfe.” The voice began, firm and lyrical like any other reporters’. “It’s common knowledge that when Cole MacGrath died he not only cured the plague that was sweeping the world, but took every Conduit with him to his grave. What we didn’t know was that this would be temporary. Within a year, rumors emerged of the return of the Conduit gene. Some believed that the plague had survived and mutated, this time creating Conduits rather than killing normals. Some believed that not all the Conduits were actually killed, that a few remained and were somehow able to spread their abilities.” 

I shook my head. That didn’t sound right—how do you spread a gene? Besides the obvious procreational way. 

“I’ve personally looked into both of these urban legends and have yet to find any proof of either of them.” Raymond Wolfe said, agreeing with me. “Which is why I’m here in Seattle. I believe the DUP know more than they are letting on.”

The recording stuttered short there, Brent saying what I was thinking: “That’s it? That was his report? That was nothing,”

Dad’s eyes screwed shut like it was painful for him to think. “I remember Raymond saying something about…the DUP having a hand in the gene?” He asked like he wasn’t sure, opening his eyes to look between Aunt Sia and Zeke. “Did you guys ever learn what he was after?” 

Aunt Sia shook her head. “He died before he got anywhere.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “That’s nice,” he said, tone suggesting it wasn’t at all. 

Zeke ignored the jib, saying, “Raymond found me, long before we took this to Project Sanctuary. Came knocking on my door in the swamp and nearly found out what the business end of a twelve gauge felt like. Apparently when Wolfe, the doctor, was captured and the Militia bombed his lab, it triggered some sorta failsafe in his computer to email Raymond a goodbye letter. He showed me it.” After a moment, Zeke continued, “It admitted to everything he did. Shit Cole and I didn’t even know about. Some sorta final attempt at soothing his subconscious or something.

“He mentioned Cole in it, his one attempt at redemption. Everyone knows the heroes, not the sidekicks, so it took a while for him to find me. Three years, to be exact. The DUP had started putting people away in droves and he thought they had a hand in the fact that they were coming back to begin with. Asked me to help — tell him what I knew from back then with Wolfe and Cole.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “And?” 

Zeke sighed. “I told him to fuck off before I used him for chum in a gator trap.” 

Whatever Dad was expecting, it wasn’t that; he blinked hard twice before eventually asking, dumbfounded, “What?”

“I didn’t want anything to do with it at first.” Zeke admitted. “I was mourning and pissed at the world. My best friend did everything he could to fix what Kessler started and not only did it not matter, but they were making him into some sorta villain.” He looked at Delsin. “You know what that’s like.”

Dad just seemed to relent with a single nod. “By the time I agreed to work with him, he was sure he was onto something bigger,” Zeke continued. “It was a whole conspiracy. Curdun Cay was impossible to find, but apparently he had a group of hackers that managed to break through once. Barely got into a database for experiments before the FBI were at their door.”

I heard of the testing done in Curdun Cay long before I knew Dad was Delsin. Everyone did. It was one of those blemishes the history teachers would breeze over in class and you’d have to learn after seeing a survivor’s interview on television or some post on social media. I learned about it from a Wikipedia rabbit hole when writing a report on Delsin Rowe’s tag art and importance of civilian empowerment. 

Dad’s art. Dad. 

And apparently, Dad seemed just as familiar with those stories as he sighed. “That could’ve been anything,” he said solemnly. 

“It could’ve been,” Zeke agreed. “But you don’t think she had a reason for doing what she did?”

No one had a good retort to that. 

Dad’s eyes traveled thoughtfully from Zeke’s face to the bin Aunt Sia had brought out and he stepped forward, digging around in it for a minute and rejecting two different dead drop sleeves before finding what he was looking for. He pulled the little chip out of its folder and handed it to Aunt Sia, who put it into the player without question. 

“Report by Augustine.” Her voice was softer than anything I heard from her on Christmas eve—but it still sent a jolt down my spine so violent I jerked in my seat a bit, hair on the back of my neck standing on end. “While the inciting incident that supposedly claimed the lives of all the Conduits was in fact a lie, it was not one created by the DUP. Conduits did live through Cole’s Gift, myself included.”

I hated how tense her voice made me. I hated how I could hear waves roaring in my ears despite being in the middle of Hyde Park. I glanced over at Brent, who was trying his hardest to scowl a hole into the fridge’s door before looking down at the table, trying to shake the tension from my shoulders. Not that that helped; all it did was turn my attention to the cast on my arm — the cuts and scrapes still healing from the car crash and the monster chase — and it just made my stomach churn more. 

After a breath, Augustine continued, “Instead, we used the calm to build, learn, and prepare. We got better at early detection and collection. Curdun Cay’s facilities were upgraded and we built an army. The events here in Seattle will ensure the DUP will be funded for the foreseeable future.” 

A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. My head snapped back and the sight of red hair made my heart stutter until I realized it was too red, with exposed black roots — not wild and gray streaked and more auburn than cherry. Aunt Sia looked down at me in concern as I tried to force my breathing to steady, hand moving from my shoulder to rub my back reassuringly.

“This will allow me to expand our facilities abroad.” Augustine confided in the recording in a hushed tone, like they were sharing secrets under a duvet at a sleepover. “We have made an excellent headway on establishing a permanent science facility in Australia. The work we’ve already done there using Dr. Sebastian Wolfe’s notes on the Conduit is…” She drew off, breathing deeply, “Well, awe inspiring, even to me.”

The recording cut short right there, and we were all left in silence for a considerable few seconds. 

“‘Wolfe’s notes on the Conduit,’” Dad eventually asked, looking up at Zeke. “What notes?” 

Zeke looked to Aunt Sia, who sighed. “He thought Augustine was trying to influence the gene to create herself a little army,” she began, “And that, since the DUP had information on the Ray Sphere and RFE, that she was planning this mass event that would have activated Conduits everywhere, make it impossible for the world to ignore Conduits.” 

Dad huffed. “She was locking up every gene positive person she could find,” he pointed out. “You believed that?”

“Yeah.” Aunt Sia responded, that firm finality in her voice that always lingered in its tone whenever she refused to hear otherwise. “I did. Because when I heard about what happened in there? I refuse to believe it was just for shits and giggles. Augustine was up to something, you can’t tell me she wasn’t.”

Dad didn’t seem convinced. “When I fought her, she said she was just…trying to keep them outta the hands of the government,” he started, brow screwed tight as he tried to access the memory from that time. “That the military was the reason they died in the beginning, and she was the only thing keeping them safe.”

Aunt Sia cocked an eyebrow at Dad. “You believed that?” she returned with the same doubtful tone he had earlier. 

Dad faltered as he considered her words, and Aunt Sia stepped forward, a hand going to Dr. Sims’ shoulder. I hadn’t noticed it till this very moment, but it seemed like Brent and I weren’t the only ones bothered by Augustine’s voice; Dr. Sims’ jaw was tense, the fingertips of his right hands sort of tapping against the keys like he wanted to distract himself with typing but couldn’t think of the words. “After everything Eugene told me, it’s—I can’t believe that she didn’t have some sort of ulterior motive.” Dad opened his mouth to retort and Aunt Sia continued without waiting, “Someone that cares about Conduits doesn’t torture them to see what they can do. They don’t experiment on them, and they sure as hell don’t train them to kill. Fetch wasn’t the only one she did that too.”

Dad’s shoulders immediately tensed when Aunt Sia mentioned Mom, looking off like the mere mention of what happened then made him want to slew a string of curse words. He took a moment to run his hand over his face before asking, “So, what? She was slowly building some sort of army?”

Aunt Sia sighed, shrugging. “I’m not sure. I can’t say I fully believed the idea, because I didn’t. I still don’t. But she was doing something in that little ivory castle of hers, I can promise you that. We just don’t know what.” 

Dr. Sims suddenly sat up in his chair, eyes scanning over the entirety of his screen as he said, “We may have just found out,” before looking over his shoulder at Dad. “I can access the hard drives now.”

Dad moved to Dr. Sims’ shoulder as Aunt Sia’s hand moved to grip the back of the chair I was sitting in, tense. “What d’ya got?” Zeke asked, leaned against a back wall. 

“A lot of…corrupted files…” Dr. Sims hummed, hands working overtime as he typed away. I couldn’t see what he was doing but Brent could, his eyes moving from scowling and angry to a bit wide as he watched Dr. Sims do his thing. “Maybe I’ll have more luck in the network file share…”

Dr. Sims continued his typing, brow furrowed as he dug in the computer’s data mine, looking for gold, the screen reflecting in his glasses; I couldn’t make out the words, but what I could see were the multiple popup windows and various loading bars, Dr. Sims looking like someone straight out of some cliché hacker scene. 

But white suddenly overtook his glasses as something bigger popped up on screen, lines of text spawning faster than he could read it. Dad leaned forward, lips moving ever so slightly as he silently read off of the screen. 

Zeke was the first to crack. “What did you find?” He asked. 

Dad and Dr. Sims shot each other a glance. “Notes from the First Sons,” Dr. Sims hummed, reading further. “About power transfer, forced Conduits, RFE exposure, and…evolution.” 

“Evolution?” Aunt Sia asked, “Like the gene evolving to survive the RFI?” 

Dad shook his head. “No—evolution to make a Conduit all powerful.” 

[abigail-pent]

About G--'s Arm

This is very weird. I still do not understand why John took off his arm. Someone in the comments of a previous post suggested it was so he could use it to resuscitate G-- later, but there's something still suspicious about this, because it requires John to be able to grow a whole new body from a piece that does not even have a brain. And we've been hearing this whole time -- lots of times in HTN and I think also in one of the earlier John chapters in NTN -- that John cannot regrow limbs. So how can he regrow a whole body from an arm?

And on top of that: in the sequence where he takes G--'s arm *off*, he GROWS HIM A NEW ARM:

"He said, He didn't feel any pain, and I grew him a new one then and there. Bit of a gamble, but I was sure I could do that by then. I wanted his arm . . . his material. He didn't even ask me to explain. . . . Should still be around here. The arm, I mean. I stuffed it in the morgue so nobody would find it. I've got plans for that arm." (NTN p. 399)

So at this point, pre-Resurrection, John absolutely does know how to regrow limbs; and if the commenter on my previous post was right and the 'plan for G--'s arm' was to regrow Gideon, then John knew he would keep that power post-Resurrection. But that also doesn't quite make sense, because even though at this moment John says he had a bad feeling, he doesn't know about the soul yet, and so even though he's aware that nuclear armageddon is likely, it can't be within the scope of his plans to understand that there's going to be an 'after' the nuclear armageddon. He doesn't yet know he could ensoul a new G--, even if he could create him a new body.

And then post-Resurrection, a myriad later, who can regrow limbs? Not Lyctors, except for Gideon-in-Harrow. John says he can't, but this is maybe a lie -- I think a fair amount of his lies exist to cover his culpability in the death of Earth and the fact that he has achieved perfect Lyctorhood/Grand Lysis whereas he let the others kill their loved ones to achieve only imperfect Lyctorhood/Petty Lysis. (And his culpability in setting Gideon to kill Harrow in HTN.) It's simple to say 'oh, he lies about everything' but I just don't think it's true; I think he lies for strategic reasons, and those strategic reasons are so fundamental to the world that he just ends up lying a lot. If this is true -- what strategic purpose would it serve for him to lie about being able to regrow limbs? It would show that he's different from the other Lyctors, but he wants the other Lyctors to think he's different, and they already think he's different. So did he lose this power, or what? And what does it mean that Gideon can regrow Harrow's thumbs? Does that come down to the fact that thumbs don't qualify as a limb in terms of the nervous system (as I think @dr-dendritic-trees pointed out)? Or does this point to Alecto as the source of the regrowing ability, and something about Harrow achieving perfect Lyctorhood -- or maybe just Harrow losing her thumbs -- triggers these powers from Alecto lying dormant inside her? Powers which John cannot access because of putting Alecto to sleep, or because of Alecto's pact with Anastasia?

If Alecto is the source of the regrowing ability, we actually get into some interesting themes. It points to a sort of cosmic duality: Alecto as source of life, and John as source of death, compartmentalized in a way that they should not be; a highly unnatural compartmentalization. They ought to be intertwined -- two sides of the same coin -- and intertwining is exactly what John did with their souls at the time of the Resurrection; but he tried to separate them when he put Alecto to bed. And they can't be separated, because when death is conquered, what meaning does life have? When you can't die, when you live ten thousand years... we see what that does to Mercy and what it does to Augustine. It's unnatural. You lose yourself. Death and life have to be together to have meaning.

[zablife]

Hello❤️, will you do something with DarkProfessor!Luca again?

Hi lovely anon, I have written a blurb for you that turned out quite dark. Luca's actions here are truly heinous. If you read it, I hope you like it and let me know your thoughts.

Dark!Professor Luca

(Warnings: dark themes, sexual assault (alluded to, not graphic), blackmail)

You fidgeted on the edge of your seat as Dr. Changretta reviewed the papers you had carefully assembled for him, reminders of your stellar academic achievements over the past two years he had known you. He nodded thoughtfully as he flipped through the pages, occasionally commenting on a particularly interesting point you had made. “This all looks to be in order, y/n. It’s very impressive and I see no reason why I can’t write a letter of recommendation to any school of your choosing,” he said, reclining back in his chair with an easy smile. 

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief as you thanked him profusely. “Now, wait a moment,” he said holding up a ringed hand. I said I didn’t see a reason why I couldn’t write the letter, not that I had agreed to it just yet,” he said, gesturing for emphasis. 

“I don’t understand. Is there something else I should have done to prepare for our meeting?” you asked with furrowed brow. You tried to recall everything you’d written on your checklist before your appointment. 

“No, you miss the point,” he said with a chuckle. “This is more of a quid pro quo situation, my dear,” he said stroking his cheek with his finger thoughtfully.

You sat back against your chair until you hit the wooden back forcefully. You’d wondered if you would ever see this side of him. He did have a certain reputation as a womanizer. Suddenly you were concerned the letter of recommendation might come with a stipulation for a date or something more. You weren’t very experienced with men and you feared if he asked for a sexual favor, it would be far too humiliating an offer to entertain even if you did find him wildly attractive. 

You found the courage to look into Professor Changretta’s eyes and found him staring back at you with an amused smirk. Curiosity finally got the better of you and you asked, “What would I have to do to earn the letter, professor?”

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and intertwined his fingers as though he were making a simple business proposition. “Y/n, you’re a rational young woman. I’m sure you're much too level headed to believe the wild rumors going around about me."

You averted your eyes momentarily, unsure of how to respond. Luckily, he continued unbothered by your lack of an answer. “Recently a few of your classmates have made some…salacious accusations. Completely untrue, of course, but the dean will have to make all the ugly business public unless I have a letter of my own.”

You gulped, the only reason the dean would be involved would be if he had been accused of sexual harassment or rape. This was very different from the things you’d heard. “What…what kind of letter?” you asked, voice coming out shaky and small to your own ears. The look he was giving you was suddenly very predatory and threatening, you feared saying no, but you were unsure why.

“A letter to vouch for my character, of course. Y/n, I think you know that girls your age are very impressionable. They make up these kinds of stories as gossip for each other, but it’s my reputation that’s at stake here. If a star pupil like yourself were to write to the dean, this would all go away,” he said, spreading his hands wide as though he’d done a magic trick.

You licked your lips, feeling them becoming very dry all of a sudden. You felt your heart rate quicken as he stared at you intently. Then when you thought he could surely see you sweating, he stood, placing his palms on the table, ending the meeting with a light hearted laugh. “Feel free to refuse. I understand if you’re not comfortable with the idea,” he said.

You stood and gathered your purse, taking a deep breath for the first time since you arrived. However, as soon as you turned back to him, his face appeared solemn once more as he added with a shake of his head, “But I have to caution you, a letter of recommendation from a disgraced professor won’t carry much weight at the schools you’re applying to.”

———————————————————

As you entered your darkened dorm room, you heard sobs echoing from the corner where your roommate’s bed sat wedged under the large window. “Alice?” you called out before turning on a lamp. A sliver of light illuminated her thin frame huddled under a blanket and you came to sit beside her asking, “What’s happened?”

She didn’t speak at first, choosing only to accept your embrace as she rocked back and forth slowly. You wondered what could have upset her so much. It was true that she hadn’t been herself in recent weeks, but she had been moody and unresponsive to your questions so you decided to give her space, hoping she’d talk to you in her own time. 

“Alice, please, you’ve been distant for a long time now. I know something’s wrong. Will you please tell me about it?” you asked gently. 

She let out a few hiccuped sobs, dabbing at her eyes with the corners of the blanket before looking into your eyes with a pained look. “It won’t matter if I tell you. You’ll just call me a liar like everyone else,” she said breaking down into sobs.

You wrapped your arms around her again promising, “No, I won’t, I swear. Whatever it is, you know I’ll believe you. I know you better than anyone.” You hushed her quietly as you rubbed her back. When she appeared to calm slightly, you rose to retrieve a tissue box and sat next to her cross legged waiting for her to begin.

She took a shaky breath before admitting, “It’s Professor Changretta….” Your ears began ringing as she detailed the horrific things he’d done to her. You sat dumbstruck as she shook and cried beside you in fear recounting it all and then you began weeping along with her. 

“You told someone about this, didn’t you, Alice?” you asked hesitantly, reaching for her hands, but she grew angry at your words and jerked away.

“Of course I did, but no one believed me!” she screamed at you in frustration. She leapt off the bed, searching her desk in a flurry of activity. “The dean showed me this letter from some anonymous witness and said I’d lied….made it all up to ruin his reputation!” she said clutching a paper in her hand angrily. You felt a wave of nausea grip you as you traced the words with your fingertips. It was all there, every word you’d typed as Luca stood over you promising a bright future for you both. 

[bookish-monster]

Book Rec

Devout: An Anthology of Angels

edited by Quinton Li

with creative contributions from:

Freydís Moon

Morgan Dante

Emily Hoffman

Dorian Yosef Weber

Daniel Marie James

Angela Sun

Cas Trudeau

Rae Novotny

Tyler Battaglia 

rafael nicolás - @nicosraf here on tumblr

Ian Haramaki

Aurélio Loren 

(I gathered as many social links and author websites as I could, but was sadly unable to find all of them! If you're the creator of one of the contribution to Devout, feel free to reach out so that I can update this rec to include your links; I'd love to promote your work).

The Storygraph link for this book includes information such as page count, publication date, and community-created content warnings.

This anthology includes short stories, poetry, and a few pieces of artwork from a plethora of amazing creatives, all focused on themes of Christian and Jewish faith and the way angels intertwine with those belief systems—as well as how they interact with queerness, religious trauma, and much more. In the first story of the collection (written by Freydís Moon, who also wrote the superb Exodus 20:3 that I have reviewed here) the protagonist is a young trans man who has an erotic tryst with Satan in the back of a church after the fallen angel gives a sermon to the miracle-hungry congregation. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. 

This recommendation would be impossibly long if I were to describe every piece of creative work in this 200+ page anthology. I will try to be brief, then, and describe only my three favorite additions. However, one thing that stood out to me about all of the creative work in the anthology is that each written work is prefaced with content warnings created by the author. Since many of the stories and poems deal with content and themes that could be triggering, this was a really welcome addition.

The first story that grabbed me by the throat in Devout is “Seasons of God” by Angela Sun, which focuses on two French missionaries who come to a village in rural China to convert the locals to Catholicism. The story focuses on one of the missionaries, Francis, who attempts to save a local girl named Rui from being sold by her widower father due to her supposed uselessness. The story grapples with colonial attitudes and the possessive “love” of men who want to mold colonized people into perfect little Christians for further exploitation. Rui has a special power: she can see a strange, terrifyingly eldritch angel haunting the village. The story reaches an explosive conclusion when Rui’s father bursts into the church during Mass with an axe, seeking revenge for the financial loss of his daughter. 

The second story I loved is “And the Mountains Melt like Wax” by Tyler Battaglia, which is set during the modern era and follows a firefighter named Abel who is on a hiking trip with his service dog, Cain. Abel has severe PTSD after a particularly bad fire, and is seeking clarity on his hiking trip into the mountains. He is alone except for the dog. Abel finds an impact crater where an angel (whose design is inspired by the Book of Ezekiel) has fallen to earth, and shares a granola bar with the creature. Abel asks for forgiveness for what happened when he entered that burning building, and I think the beauty in this story is that he receives neither absolution nor damnation for what he did—just like with real-world religious torment, there are no easy answers or simple solutions.

The final story I want to speak about is “Misery in Company” by Morgan Dante (whose other book, Providence Girls, I have recommended here). This story is an adaptation of Doctor Faustus, a play originally written in the Elizabethan era by Christopher Marlowe, where the protagonist is the demon Mephistopheles rather than the human magician (Dr. Faustus himself) who sold his soul to Hell in exchange for amazing powers and knowledge… and receives the services of a demonic manservant as well. In this story, Mephistopheles falls in love with the magician whose orders he is required to obey, and dreams of sharing a place in Hell with his beloved once his mortal lover dies of old age. Like other demons, Mephistopheles is a fallen angel who constantly reckons with his betrayal of God, and is always searching for a way to upstage his creator. Ultimately, however, he is thwarted in that attempt—just as the original play is a tragedy, so too is this short story. And like everything I have so far seen of Morgan Dante’s work, it is also masterfully written.

These three short stories are just my personal favorites from the collection. For those who favor more of a raunchy good time, I think they would enjoy “Paradises” by rafael nicolás, which features the angel Gabriel (a twink) becoming the lover of the Aztec rain deity Tlāloc behind God’s back, as well as Freydís Moon’s aforementioned contribution. There’s something in this anthology for everyone, I think.

You can find this book on Amazon Kindle or Smashwords

[eirianerisdar]

Hi! I recently read Icarus, and I have to say, I absolutely adored it. Genuinely one of the best stories I’ve read recently.

One of my favorite things about it is how all-encompassing it is when it comes to the grid — you include so many different drivers, team principals, and even former drivers. I love seeing stories that put focus on more than just one or two people because imo it makes things more interesting & it adds depth to the world the story is set in, gives it more life.

I know in the latest chapter you included Nico Rosberg and even Jenson Button, and I was wondering if you plan to include any more of the former drivers in later chapters?

Also, what other friendships will we see in the story? Specifically with Daniel. Of course we’ve had the obvious ones, with Max and Seb, but I’d love to see the dyanmics between him and even more drivers on the grid. I’m also looking forward to seeing how his relationship with Lando develops.

tl;dr Your story has given me brainrot and it’s all I can think about. Thank you.

Hey, thanks for the lovely ask! ❤️

Haha the fic expanding to the wider grid and even former drivers is something I can’t help but do - as always I want there to be the deepest of angst before we get to the tooth-rotting hurt-comfort and I have to address whatever brokenness there still is the grid, even older drivers. (Cough brocedes is one of them)

Things will really pick up starting with the coming chapter where we get to the 2022 grid. Maxiel aside plenty to see with Daniel and Lando’s relationship as teammates and friends, and we also see much more of the grid as a whole as themes start to intertwine.

And there’s something huge coming that I’ve only hinted at that I can’t wait to share with everyone. Thank you so much for sharing in my Brainrot. I can’t wait.

[demos-cloud]

Although there were flaws and they were by no means perfect, I really did enjoy the Dangan Ronpa series, and feel that every installment had some parts it did better than the others.

The first game was rather novel at the time, and the real-time 'trial' gameplay it introduced was tons of fun and allowed for more tension compared to the trials in the Ace Attorney games (which are fun in their own right). The intertwining of the characters and discussions of social issues such as the idol industry, the perception of "man" and "manliness", otaku culture, how others could interpret suicide, and so forth, paired with the simplicity of "hope versus despair" in its purest form allowed the cast to feel so full of depth, much more than their initial introductions made them seem. It was truly revolutionary. Also Ouyama voicing Monokuma in Japanese felt like being hit by a 50-freight train.

SDR2's story was more fantastical compared to DR1 but it absolutely excelled with its puzzles and trials. I found them to be far more interesting and more difficult/complex which really drew me in. The characters are also absolutely spectacular (I am pretending Hanamura doesn't exist) and I adore that none of them have a simple relationship with another. From the conflicting Pekoyama who devotes herself as merely a tool to be used and discarded by her master, Fuyuhiko, who desires for her to learn and grow and eventually stand by his side as an equal - as a human; to the appreciation and loathing that Saionji holds towards Mikan; to the muddled mixture of love and hatred that is KomaHina. It was all so wonderful and I found myself so attached to these characters.

Ultra Despair Girls existed.

Dangan Ronpa: Zero and DR: Kirigiri were interesting reads and helped to provide additional characterization for some of the cast members that didn't get as much game screen time. They were by no means exceptional, but I would consider them decent supplementary material.

Dangan Ronpa Gaiden: Killer Killer was surprisingly more interesting than I expected. It introduced new characters which weren't the most compelling, but the primary focal relationship was just so charming and the finale was fantastic and I am such a sucker for double suicide-murders as a way to convey your love I mean what.

NDRV3 ends with another charming cast but primarily the OumaSai dynamic which felt like it really made you think and wonder and speculate. The overarching theme of "truth/real versus lie/fake" was delivered spectacularly within the confines of these two characters, and I am furthermore biased with the existence of all the wonderful girls this game introduced. Tenko you are so wonderful and even though you are a fictional character, you deserve so much better.

DR3 Side: Hope existed.

DR3 Side: Future was... interesting. I enjoyed a lot of the characters - and I feel that this is one of the series' strong points - and yet, somehow many of them felt lacking. Ruruka especially got on my nerves as she was played up to be this competent manipulator type and ended up as just. bratty.

[melissak2802]

Personal favourite Agatha Christie antagonists (SPOILERS)

On my favourite Dame Agatha's antagonists.

HEAVY SPOILERS BELOW, AKA ANTAGONIST NAMES AND IMPORTANT PLOT POINTS

Dr. Sheppard. Very good narrator, clever and patient man with a good sense of soft irony (unlike the very messed portrayal in the Suchet episode where he's made to be an arrogant bitch), loving brother (the genuine fluff and humour of their moments together), wide interests (doctor+mechanic+writer), very graceful at losing in the final. Powerful tragedy of his fall. And of course from the point of mystery, not only he is a good narrator, he is very good at being UNRELIABLE narrator while providing enough fair clues and never lying to the reader.

Charlotte Blacklock. I already said in my posts on themes in novels that she has similarities to Dr. Sheppard - a soft person who starts their descent with grabbing some good share of illegal money under too convenient circumstances, then gets attached to it, then ends up a murderer. Except she falls deeper down and almost loses humanity eventually (while afraid of her fall herself simultaneously). I like the potential of her backstory. I also like a lot how the intrigue is done with her.

Josephine Leonidis. Her story provokes a lot of thought, with the multiple toxicities and psychological deformities of her family intertwining into a ball messed enough to create her this way.

The Redferns for being magnificent villains as well as a vivid and balanced opposites duo.

Justice Wargrave. He's interesting and unusual for complicated motive: ambition in "creating a perfect crime" + arrogant belief in his sense of justice and that he can't be wrong + voluntarily giving into his sadistic tendencies. His calculating skills and how easily he becomes the de facto leader of his victims too.

Lance Fortescue as a charming jackass with quite creative thinking.

Jimmy Thesiger as another charming jackass with lots of wit (and screentime), plus his pairing with Loraine is another surprisingly balanced villain couple.

The antagonist of The Mousetrap (I am aware I shouldn't name them in a public space). I feel very sorry for them and hope they recover, especially since they are one of the VERY few Dame Agatha's antagonists who is offered a second chance and new beginning at the story's end (and they do need it). They are a new favourite I'm still exploring but I am interested in the complexity of their personality (including their insanity), touched by their vulnerable and caring core. And yes, their tactics/the twist is a gem, the audacity.

Honourable mentions:

The Orient Express vengeance group. Not only their motive is pretty valid (many criminals had a "good motive" or thought so), I like especially that they took care about not harming or throwing any suspicion to an innocent party. They are also interesting as a very diverse group with the shared past and goal, diverse socially, ethnically and in personality.

Jackie de Bellefort for the warning of her story. Not every kind of "your star" should be followed, especially not this blindly.

Miss Gilchrist. The shocking "plainness" of her, her drama and motive to the degree when it's scary. The disguise trick fits her in a strange way.

Mrs. Lorrimer (not a central antagonist of her novel but AN antagonist). A very noble and strong as well as remorseful and tired person. The theme of compassion to a younger person who seemed to commit a similar crime she can relate to.

Bess Sedgwick. The charm of this adventurous eagless, the surprisingly noble moral code for an accomplished robber, the protectiveness of her child she couldn't raise.

[swolesome]

First of all, just wanna say I absolutely adore the work you’re doing on YouTube. It’s so fucking good. You explain masculinity issues so well and witch such empathy. I fucking love it. As both an ace man and a hyper-empathetic and emotional one, my own relationship with masculinity has always been a very subversive one, but your videos help educate folks like me just as much as the folks who have bought into the toxic patriarchal gender norms assigned to boys and men.

Now for my question

What do you think are some of the most underrated examinations of masculinity?

There’s really popular ones like Breaking Bad and How to Train Your Dragon, but what’s a story that deals with masculinity really well that deserves more attention?

For me, I’d say RWBY. One of the major male characters starts out trying to be a heroic macho man but slowly learns to accept a role as support, and the entire show is very critical of the “Lone Hero making the hard choices” kind of thing we’re so used to and that’s usually very intertwined with male power fantasies

There’s even a character who becomes a villain because he’s so convinced he’s the Lone Hero who will Do What Needs To Be Done and he refuses to process his emotions or trauma, so he ends up being played like a violin.

That is so wonderful to hear, thank you so much for saying that! I love hearing from everyone about their perspectives, but it's especially motivating to hear from empathetic men who feel seen and empowered by the topics I tackle. I also love this question, and I'm not gonna lie, I had to sit on it for a long while and think about my answer. Speckle from Tuca and Bertie is one example who came to mind, though maybe that's a little too on-the-nose. The show obviously tackles a lot of oppositional sexism, and deals with some pretty heavy themes where patriarchal masculinity is concerned. I think Speckle is such a wildly important character specifically because he counters the negative representations of manhood by providing an example of a positive archetype. The fact that he isn't perfect helps in this representation. He's a regular person, he's flawed, he has his struggles, he misses the mark sometimes; but he acts from a place of love, he communicates his feelings, and he demonstrates a lot of emotional awareness and security. I think this deserves more focus because Tuca and Bertie has a lot of feminist themes, and it exemplifies the essential role that healthy masculinity and male expression plays in deconstructing patriarchy. Another example that I think gets overlooked is the EMH from Voyager. He quite literally goes at odds with his programming, both by developing skills outside of it, and by being confronted with the way it can affect his behaviour when he doesn't want it to. I think there's a really helpful reading of masculinity to be found in this; the way a lot of expressions of what it is to be a healthy, well-rounded person mean confronting our "programming" and addressing when we don't have the skills (or subroutines, as it were) to accomplish our goals and meet social needs. I have a project planned for the future that uses him as an example of male grief in media, and I'm excited to get more into his character and what he represents on that front. Lastly, Dr. Nerdlove has a fantastic video discussing the understated positive masculinity of two specific characters in Letterkenny that I adore, so I'll link that too in case you haven't seen it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AS6B8zEssuU

[the-possum-writes]

Story Previews [January]

Here are the main stories I've been going back and forth recently (that are most likely to be published soon)

❥Finn the human

❥Elktaur (Centaurworld)

❥Dr. Faust (Guilty Gear)

❥ Finn the Human

Type: Short scenario (Tumblr request for flower hill themed fluff)

60% finished

Notes: It's the once with more progress rn, has a clear direction, just need the head space to fill in descriptions of the scenary.

"How much longer till we leave this place? It feels like we've been digging nonstop for days."

The map crinkles beneath your calloused hands, which are covered in fabric bandages, clearing the dust so you can see your math equations in the corner. "It should be a few feet away; once the ground turns to sand, we're good."

"Do you mean this?"Finn switched to a shovel to remove the few rocks that were intertwined with streams of gray sand and seashells. The dust filling the cave became so overwhelming that you raised the bandana on your neck to your lower jaw, stuffing the map in your pocket in order to help Finn before he gets buried alive. Once the sand broke away into a hole on the cieling the two of you are showered in natural sunlight that burns your pupils like lemon juice on an open wound.

Finn burst into a cheery laugh. "I never knew I'd be so happy to get blind looking at the sun." he rubs his eyes a few times before getting used to the exterior, stretching and arm out to help you climb out of the hole.

❥ Dr. Faust (Guilty Gear) (idea I had, segs pollen type of prompt)

Type: oneshot

17% finished

Notes: Just started this one a few days ago after listening to the ost, there's barely any content for him and I was hit with a burst of inspiration for Smut potential. This is the story I'm gaining alot of traction with, but it'll take a while to finish since it's not a priority to upload yet.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Almost immediately a door opens up and out of it pops up is a tall man with a paper bag over his head, looks like you found the right guy. "Yes~? Oh my, you don't look so well."

You wanted to chuckle at his reaction. Knowing you don't need a medical degree to know you look like shit. "Do I need to schedule an appointment?" you're hesitant to ask, not knowing how you can stand another minute like this if he declines, but manners make the person.

The doctor crouching at the doorway pulls out a clipboard from god knows where, thoughtfully skimming through the pages as he raises his view at the empty waiting room a few times. "Not at all! please come in come in." he booms joyfully. Papers flying in the air as he suddenly chucks the clipboard behind his back. A thankful smile briefly flashes by your lip, but it faded when your trembling arms struggle to lift yourself from the counter, luckily there was no need to stand up on your own since a freakishly long arm grabbed you by the waist, spun you around like a swivel chair and before you knew it (once the room stopped spinning) you're already sitting inside the doctor's office in a hospital gown.

You're caught off guard by his ability, grasping at your gown in shock to make sure it's real.

"Now, tell me dear patient tell me about your condition?" he asks patiently, with his gloved hands intertwined together, humorously sitting behind a desk too small for his long body, needing to bend each leg over the sides like an adult sitting on a child's desk.

❥Elktaur (fic update - new chapter)

Type: update

9% finished

Notes: This is the poor baby I admit i abandoned, it was kinda hard getting into the right head space for Elk, (as much as I love the shitpost kind of writing I want to tackle his themes appropriately) but I'm slowly picking up where I left it since I had two unfinished drafts. Will try to finish it as soon as possible since it can wrap up easily if I place the puzzle pieces in order.

Elktaur's hooves clamp against the cobblestone road as he makes his way home, he massages the back of his stiff neck after a particularly long day at work, apparently someone thought it was a good idea to store peanut butter jars right beside an open hatch of delicate machinery. Let's just say one thing led to another and now there's peanut butter everywhere, having to shut down the portal in order to make repairs.

"Jefferson pass me the screwdriver," Elktaur would order, the sweat running down his non-existent brow as he holds a firm grip on a wrench clogged between a row of gears to keep them from running, hence why he calls for help, but the assistance from another centaur proved impatient as Elk was handed a kabob. "What the-? Jeff couldn't you wait until lunchtime." Elktaur grits between his teeth, the wrench slipping from his grasp.

"Huh? But it's 5 minutes til lunchtime and I'm already starving, here have a kabob." the gophertaur offers but Elk refuses.

"Can't you see we have a portal to fix! Look at all those people waiting in line," In his scolding Elk momentarily looses his hold on the wrench, almost slipping past his fingertips before gripping it again. "Ugh you centaurs only focus on food, I'll get it myself." Elk attempts to stretch himself towards the screwdriver, but this Elktaur isn't made of rubber nor does he possess the goofy centaurworld qualities to pull it off. Resulting in him losing his balance with the wrench coming loose and falling out of its spot between the gears, the unfixed parts get stuck in smudges of peanut butter.

The bell rings to announce lunchtime, with a group of them getting together. "We're gonna head out for some sloppy Joe's, wanna come?" one of the friendly rift workers offers but it only frustrated Elktaur even more. "Are you serious?! Go on and eat your sloppy Joe's, I'll stay and handle this on my own." he snapped at the amicable worker. They didn't direct anything else towards him but he can still hear them say something like "What's his deal?" and "Told ya he wouldn't come, he never does." but to Elktaur their opinions of him are meaningless as long as he can trust his own skill.

Instead of singing today he walks past stalls and shops in utter silence, listening to the ambience noise coming from external conversations. "What would my unpredictable housemate be up to?" He wonders as a comfort, tracing back the steps of what's happened the past week. After the concert you backed off from playing matchmaker and gave him some room to breathe, but it's not like it's made things easier for him. Seeing you everyday in such a domestic setting does something to him, preparing coffee, sharing a meal with him, engaging in small talk while he tinkers away... even the thought of you makes him giddy.

When Elktaur comes home hes finds the workshop is left spotless, the floors were mopped, the couch cushions are new in color and even the cleaning products were scrubbed clean except for the kitchen that was messy with what he can only describe as a cooking recipe gone wrong.

[bryte-eyed-athena]

Afrofuturism in the work of Janelle Monáe

Ashley Clarke, a curator for the Brooklyn Academy of Music, defined Afrofuturism as “the centering of the international black experience in alternate and imagined realities, whether fiction or documentary; past or present; science fiction or straight drama.”

Themes of Afrofuturism can be found throughout the works of Janelle Monáe. Her previous albums like The ArchAndroid and The Electric Lady showcase this through the exploration of androids as a new “other.” Today I want to talk about one of her most recent projects, Dirty Computer, and the way it contributes to the conversation on Afrofuturism. Janelle Monáe released Dirty Computer as an album and a 48 minute long Emotion Picture to draw her audience into a visual and auditory world of her own making. The dystopian future she presents to us is very similar to our own current reality, except that the voices being amplified are those that have historically been silenced. People of color and the LGBT+ community are central in this story rather than pushed off screen. Dirty Computer is so powerful because it focuses on joyful rebellion, love, and freedom in an oppressive dystopian setting.

The project, as Monáe has shared, can be split into three parts: Reckoning, Celebration, and Reclamation.

Part I: Reckoning

gif credit: scificinema

gif credit: scificinema

The Emotion Picture begins with Monáe’s character Jane 57821 laying out how her society has begun to capture people deemed dirty in order to “clean” them of their supposed filth against their will. This is meant to produce beings that are stripped of all individuality and ready to conform to societal norms and expectations. Jane tells the audience that, “You were dirty if you looked different, you were dirty if you refused to live the way they dictated, you were dirty if you showed any form of opposition at all. And if you were dirty it was only a matter of time.” The dichotomy between dirty and clean has created a system where an entire class of people can be demonized and oppressed. This foreboding tone at the beginning prepares the viewer for the grim implications of the cleaning process in this universe.

Dirty Computers are strapped to a table and forced to undergo the “Nevermind” which is a program that deletes memories. It is a process that is horrifying because of what it symbolizes to the individual and entire communities of people. To erase someone’s memories is to erase who a person is. The character of Mary Apple 53, Jane’s love interest, shows us just how alien a person can become once their memories are gone. The horror of erasure is also something that marginalized communities have faced for centuries and continue to face today.

In an interview on Dirty Computer, Janelle Monáe said “I felt a deeper responsibility to telling my story before it was erased. I think that there’s an erasure - of us, and if we don’t tell our stories they won’t get told. If we don’t show us we won’t get shown.” Afrofuturism is a response to this erasure of black people and people of color in culture, history, and art. Monáe has made a deliberate choice to tell her story even if it might get erased because if she doesn’t do it then no one else will. Remaining silent would be to assist in that erasure and Afrofuturism is all about refusing to be erased.

This first part of the Emotion Picture is all a reckoning with the Dirty Computers and how they are pushed to the margins. The lyrics in Crazy, Classic, Life speak about how the same mistake made by two people on different ends of the spectrum of social acceptability is punished unequally. Take A Byte follows it with a more upbeat tone, but even then the lyric “I’m not the kind of girl you take home to your mama” speaks to a feeling of being outside social norms.

There are moments of light and joy that are counterweights to the dire situation Jane is in. These come in the form of her memories which are played one final time before they are erased. Jane’s life before she was captured was filled with exploration, youth, love and celebration.

Part II: Celebration

Gif credit: normreedus

Gif credit: daisyjazzridley

Gif credit: nerd4music

Dirty Computers seem to recognize that they are living on borrowed time and that any day could be the day they are forcefully disappeared. This is why they fill each moment with as much fun, life, color, and joy as they can. There are many scenes at clandestine parties where Dirty Computers live freely and openly despite the threat of drones or police that could capture them at any moment. It is important to have these scenes of celebration though because Afrofuturism is also about providing hope.

The future must be a hopeful one if we are to strive for it and Afrofuturism allows us to be creative in crafting our visions of a hopeful future. Even though Monáe’s future is dystopian, there is still room for hope and joy because those are the things that make life worth living. These Dirty Computers have to live their lives joyfully because they don’t know when they’ll be sterilized.

In the interview mentioned previously, Monáe added that “I had to make a decision with who I was comfortable pissing off and who I wanted to celebrate. And I chose who I wanted to celebrate, and that was the Dirty Computers.” The LGBT+ community, people of color, black women, immigrants, and low income people have all been mentioned as people Monáe wished to celebrate. This celebration comes intertwined with images and themes of rebellion as expressed in Jane’s memories. Screwed, Django Jane, Pynk, Make me Feel, and I Like That are the songs that embody celebration the best. Whether it's a celebration of sexuality, femininity, unity, or of self love it is all encompassed in these songs. Jane is shown connecting with others and being unapologetically proud of herself. We also see her falling in love with two people, Zen and Ché, and we see them love her in return.

Gif credit: thelovelylights

Viewing these memories and interacting with Jane seems to encourage the questioning of authority. The employee utilizing the Nevermind process seems to question why he should be deleting Jane’s memories at all. Mary Apple 53, previously named Zen, also directly questions their matriarch after speaking with Jane and realizing that she’s connected to her. It all culminates in a nonviolent escape attempt where Jane, Zen, and Ché reclaim their names, bodies, and their lives.

Part III: Reclamation

Gif credit: thelovelylights

The Emotion Picture ends with Jane 57821 and Mary Apple 53 freeing themselves, and their recently arrived lover Ché, from the facility. They escape without harming others the way they themselves have been harmed. By leaving they are reclaiming their freedom and their right to be proud of being Dirty Computers. They refuse the new names that were forced upon them and leave to rediscover the memories of the life they lived before capture.

It is a hopeful ending that plays into the themes of Afrofuturism. Even though both Jane and Zen’s memories were erased they still have the ability to create new memories and stories. Their ability to recreate their past as well as create a new future was not taken away. As they escape the song Americans can be heard in the background. The lyrics subvert the typical American patriotism expressed by racist white southerners. The trope of preserving gender roles and being a gun carrying american are satirized in these lyrics. America as a whole is being reclaimed by Janelle as a place for the people who have been marginalized.

Janelle sings “Don’t try to take my country/ I will defend my land/ I’m not crazy baby/ nah I’m American.” This sentiment is typically espoused by xenophobic americans, but when it is sung by Janelle she is saying that she won’t be forced out of America due to the bigoted beliefs of the people who hate her. She also pleads for the listener to love her for who she is which is something that has been denied to black women for centuries. The song ends with a powerful message of reclaiming America by Rev. Dr. Sean McMillan who said “Until Latinos and Latinas don't have to run from walls/ This is not my America/ But I tell you today that the devil is a liar/ Because it's gon' be my America before it's all over.”

This also shows themes of Afrofuturism since Monáe is reclaiming her history and is refusing to be excluded from it. She is asserting her presence and that of all the Dirty Computers by saying that they too have a claim to America. The Emotion Picture and the album are both a masterpiece of Afrofuturism art and music. Monáe masterfully weaves various musical genres and visual storytelling to show her pride in being a black queer woman. There is no other artist like Janelle Monáe, and I am excited to see what new worlds she will take us to next.

[createandconstruct]

can i ask about amarant coral? the monk in red himself~

Can you ask about Amarant Coral? *cracks fingers* Oh I insist that you do. Welcome to my Amarant Appreciation Post:

favorite thing about them: First off best thing about Amarant? His theme. The percussion and the guitar. It’s great and it captures him so well. People out here like “take Amarant out of the game he adds nothing.” EXCUSE ME? You remove the Amarant you remove the Amarant Theme my friend and that is something I do NOT vibe with. 

least favorite thing about them: I wanna know more about him. Now Amarant doesn’t need a backstory or history in the game. In a sense, he already has one that connects him to Zidane and explains his motives and actions and eventual arc. But my issue is, Square never gave him anything else. If you look at Ultimania there’s additional lore about other characters, like Steiner for instance. You learn Steiner was a war orphan who was saved by the Pluto Knights - explaining his devotion to them. Amarant though? Square was like “uh... yeah he was born....? And then he uh got famous...? Idk then he met Zidane. You figure it out.” Square. I hate you. 18 years from his birth until he became “well known”. WHAT WAS HE DOING. WHY’D HE BECOME A SECURITY GUARD. WHAT WAS ON HIS RESUME. TELL MEEEE. Like, okay, what the actual in-game canon gives us on Amarant is sort of enough. He’s a purposely written mysterious “cool-guy” character so we’re given scraps to make him unknown but come on. In the published after-game canon, like Ultimania, we could have been given a bit more. He says he doesn’t remember anything about his origins or parents, but why. Was he another victim of Gaia’s wars? Probably. Was he born on a battlefield? Fighting for his life, living without comrades, taking scraps whenever he could? Was he betrayed when he was young? Is he a supposed to be a version of Zidane had he not been adopted into Tantalus by Baku??? These are questions I deserve answers to, Square.

favorite line: “’I can't just walk away. It goes against my nature...’ You're a real simpleton. Forget it, guys. There's no stopping this fool." I love this. Amarant figures Zidane out pretty quickly after Ipsen’s Castle. Zidane is hardheaded and also an actor. He acts cool and pretends his reasons for doing things are loose but when he’s decided something it’s always for a reason. You don’t need a reason to help people, but Zidane has his reasons for helping Kuja and while Amarant doesn’t give two shits what they are he knows Zidane won’t be stopped because, despite everything, Zidane saved a loser like him. Also this line “Tell me! Why didn't you kill me!?" Because I quote it all the time and it makes myself laugh. Amarant is such a drama queen and Zidane knows it. Zidane’s like “dude... what is your damage, it’s 5 pm on Tuesday in Madain Sari. I ain’t getting blood on my gloves cause you’re having a temper tantrum.” And then Amarant runs away to have an existential crisis. He’s 26 but compared to Zidane, he’s the real teenager with angst.  

brOTP: I could talk about Zidane or Freya with Amarant but instead I’m gonna say the underrated dynamic of Amarant and Eiko (and also Vivi).  Amarant with the kids is truly the greatest gift given by his presence in the game. Amarant has never known true suffering until he became a designated legal guardian of a group of minors. It also kills me how he’s the one to volunteer to carry Eiko and Vivi up the Iifa tree. He looks at Zidane and is like “you have seriously been the ‘adult’ of this group???”

OTP: Gotta say the Freya and Amarant dynamic. I really enjoyed their unlikely friendship in the game but then the content. The fan content. The Freya x Amarant fans out there, you win. Ya got me. You captured me and I am now imprisoned by their banter and begruntled allies to lovers story. Even if they’re not romantic I love them together and really wish the game gave us more of them. But even Lani and Amarant together are valid, though I prefer them as butting head bros. Not much content for my girl Lani out there either, she deserves more.

nOTP: Nothing I can think of. I tend to like platonic pairings for Amarant. The dude needs friends because he can barely define the word friendship.

random headcanon: Before Zidane returns at the end of the game Amarant wanders around a bit, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t feel any place with the others in Alexandria, Burmecia, or Lindblum. I imagine he goes off on his own for a bit like before but this time he’s not after Zidane or a fight. Instead he’s got no particular destination. Yet he somehow always finds himself running into people just like him - or the old him - friendless lonely people who are looking for a fight. He doesn’t go out his way to find these folks he simply runs into them and decides he might as well knock some sense into them. He does however make it his business to go after any murmur of people hatching any ideas of going after the far off little village on the Lost Continent. The home of the genomes and black mages. They were so helpless, so weak that anyone who’d want to mess with them is pathetic in Amarant’s book. Until Zidane returns, no one has the chance to even look at the Black Mage Village the wrong way because in the shadows Amarant lurks, making damn well sure of that.

unpopular opinion: I kinda love that he’s just there for most of the game? While I agree he gets the short end of the stick in the same way as Freya, not receiving additional individual character spotlight (which could have very well been supplied through discoverable lore in the world/npcs or through sidequests) I never considered his “standing off to the side” as a detriment to his character. 

Many would probably agree that Amarant always felt like a bit of a parody of the loner character, or at least the stereotype of the loner character. Amarant is so easily paralleled with Squall and Cloud’s surface-level attitudes because his dialogue always felt like something to poke fun at. As the player we’re supposed to align with Zidane’s way of thinking and how he views Amarant. When Amarant loses to Zidane and pretty much grits his teeth and goes “KILL ME,” along with Zidane we’re supposed to kinda raise our brow at him and go “...really, dude?”

 Amarant’s a character introduced as an antagonist who has more in common with the power hungry villains of the game. Like many of the characters in FFIX, Amarant is in search of purpose in life, which he has never found, because he was always looking in the wrong places - in places of violence and power. Very toxic-masculinity of him. Amarant is “cool” on an aesthetic level but in reality he’s the polar opposite of cool in terms of what FFIX states about the need for others to be intertwined in your experiences so that you can live a full life. 

I sort of love that he’s like a grumpy pitball following a 16 year old and his friends around. Then he sits in the corner when they all meet up and discuss current events acting like he doesn’t care (not to mention he casually walks as everyone is running as fast as they can to escape Terra - made me laugh cry on my first playthrough) He is “just there” but that’s because he has no where else to be, no where else to go, he’s a man without a home. And until Zidane offers his hand, at the point where Amarant is most willing to take it at Ipsen’s Castle, he’s not truly a party member. He IS an outsider for almost the entire game but at Ipsen Castle he joins the party, becomes a comrade, and decides he’ll allow himself to change paths and start a life where he has friends and lives, as well as fights for them. Which is why after that moment, Amarant finally has a victory pose.

song i associate with them: I was scratching my head for so long trying to think of a song or track that had Amarant vibes until it hit me. Outskirt Stand by Tsukasa Tawada (from Pokemon Colosseum). Amarant is so chill, he’s not a bombastic guy, so he needs a theme that drops me in the rocky open desert of the Lost Continent like I’m just lumbering around looking for a monkey-tailed menace. Some other Amarant tunes:  Pyrite Town, The Under, Snagem Hideout tracks from Pokemon Colosseum. This post is just an elaborate call to action for everyone to listen to the Pokemon Colosseum soundtrack. Tsukasa Tawada is so great and he has a YouTube. Check him out.

favorite picture of them:

Yoshitaka Amano’s Salamander Coral. I love him. He had too much power. 

Also everything drawn by @crispy-ghee. Everything. I will think of this Comic forever until I die. Tattoo it on my flesh. The banter, the dynamics, the post-game content, the Zidane prince-consort outfit, the new Amarant outfit, the stuck-in-the-same-place relationship him and Freya have. Perfect. Go read it and consume Crisipy’s stuff. And also check them and their current art out, they just consistently get better and better. Here’s a first panel preview of my fav comic. Read it.

 @hannahlady​‘s Amarant art and their Freya/Amarant art is just ugh. *Chef’s Kiss* Here is another preview because you should go look at it.

Here’s a piece that deserves so much more love by @snackage. I LOVE how they drew Amarant. Here’s a little preview. It’s SO GOOD

Anyway TL;DR: Amarant is love and life and you’ll have to pull him from my little gremlin hands.

[forsakenism]

ELEANOR "NELL" HUỲNH

AGE + BIRTHDAY: twenty-two + april fourteenth

GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis female + she/her

ETHNICITY: vietnamese + american

STATUS: lab assistant to a biochemical engineer, part-time car thief, and professional adrenaline junkie

THEME: special k by placebo + first love/late spring by mitski

ABILITY: manipulation of the cardiovascular system

TRAITS: charismatic, calculating, loyal, manic, ruthless, quick-tempered

HISTORY: 'taken in' by Dr. Arkwright at age five, she spent thirteen years of her life being trained and altered into one of his monsters. After escaping his compound at the age of eighteen, she's live on the run ever since, finally settling in Bailey, Oregon, at age twenty, where she's spent the last two years.

EXCERPT:

My heart is hammering in my chest like it's trapped, like a penned-in bird nestled in my ribcage, beating frantically, a cacophony of frenzied pleas plucked out with wings and hollowed-out bones. If my bones were hollow I would fly away from here, never show my face again, keep going until only the dust and dead recognized me. Home free. Of course I might dash my fragile little skull in before then, but well that's always a risk- I have been told self preservation is not in my vocabulary. Jonah was fond of telling me what a fool I was, when our missions aligned, you got a goddamn death wish, you psycho I think were his exact words, which is- well, it's not hard to catch the irony.

And then there's a hand reaching for me and I recoil, a spring loaded response- hands, mine this time, scrabbling for a weapon- before I realize it's just Tristan. My arms fall like their strings have been cut, and I allow him to take one scabbed palm in between his bony two. His knuckles intertwine with mine. They're sharp, skin stretched tight over his fine bones. Nice hands, but almost too delicate. I feel like I could snap them apart without resistance, which worries me just as it calms me slightly. There's a nervousness that comes with not being the one in control of a situation. Relinquishing power is just a step away from helplessness; I haven't forgotten that, even four years free.

I focus on that and not much else. If I met his eyes I think I'd bolt, some kind of prey animal instinct seizing control. I don't like to think of myself like that- I do not want to believe I can still be considered prey- but there is an undeniable call to choose flight over fight right now.

"Nell," he says, and when I don't answer, just keep making eye contact with his shoulder, "Eleanor Roberta Huỳnh." Not my real name, there's no Roberta, but he thinks it's hysterical to make up middle names for me since I don't have one. Maybe it is, but I won't tell him that.

"What?" I kind of whisper-mouth, but he's grown used to my borderline silent speech and snatches the question right off my tongue.

"You're okay, okay?" His grey eyes are dark in the light of the fading fluorescents overhead. "You're alive. You're real. You're here, with me, and you're going to be okay."

I'm leaving a hole in the right shoulder of his flannel, how hard I'm staring at it. "Right. Yeah."

"Encouraging." He snorts, and there's a seizing of my muscles as he removes one hand to press to my cheek. "I don't need you to believe it now. Just believe that I do, and that someday you can, too. 'Cause I would never lie to you, okay?" Sharp knuckles. Frail skin. The bump of scar tissue running down his palm. These are the only things I know are real. "I would never lie to you."

With effort I turn my head to meet his gaze, leaning into his palm. "You would never lie to me."

TAGLIST (ASK TO BE + OR -)

@cannivalisms @llesbianwrites @you-are-my-neverland

[narahairline]

not necessarily a doodle prompt but like. since your characterizations mean the world to me id really love to hear what you'd do if you got the chance to write boruto :]

tysm!! im so happy they resonate with u!! 🥺🌻✨

my reply got way longer than expected so im gonna put a cut

also took this more seriously than necessary but my god. do i have opinions on this.. 🤪

tl;dr pretty much nothing the writers are doing gbhfjsdk just have it be ninja adventure slice of life

tbh theres a lot of things i feel just.. dont really work about the entire concept of it as a sequel

imo its pretty apparent that theyre struggling to form a cohesive plot based on a series that didnt have the most cohesive writing/worldbuilding/lore to begin with and there’s the whole issue of trying to shift focus on a new set of protagonists when the old ones are considered the strongest in their universe and literally killed a god. it leaves the writers with no other options than going even bigger and bigger (like idk. implanting boruto with aliengod.zip) and at some point it just feels.. very out of proportion and like the writers are struggling to bring it all together in a way that makes sense 🤔

not to even mention the original series theme of revolution resulting in... none of the systems changing... the protagonists complacency in the very systems that traumatized them, that became their drive to fight for change... idk its so disheartening lol

as for what i do think would work, its probably short stories or arcs 🤔

little snippets of their life like the hokage inauguration short, which i think showcased the best of boruto lol juxtaposing their everyday life with them all just having these immense powers, having the older and younger generations conflicts intertwine, showing them adusted/adjusting to a different life entirely

also really liked the anime’s mitsuki arc since it linked established conflicts from the original series to those of the newer generation in a way that doesnt alienate the viewer if they havent seen naruto. focused on processing the war and how to move forward, change things for the better, trying and failing. what it means to be human and what it means to create life. worked really well imo.

but yeah more of that basically!! how has the world changed, what remains, how are the systems changing; focussing the legacy theme on the last 3 generations instead of the otsutsuki

for example i really like the parent/child training filler episodes or the idea with the internships and differing career options lol (tho i still think they shouldnt make kids work full time jobs at age 12 but what do i know)

so basically just more of that!! and more actual change lol. when they said they hadnt done a single thing for ame in those 15 years.. oh rage. theres kids living in sewer systems.. literally killing themselves for an organization promising them the change they desperately want... sounds familiar 🤔

you know (boruto spoiler!!) maybe konoha deserved to have kara snatch some of jiraiyas corpse dna idk

all that being said i still think the best option for a sequel wouldve been one set ~5 years after the end of shippuden. have team 7 lead their own teams. have kakashi be hokage if there really has to be one. theyre still relevant, can still show their powers without taking away from the new teams developement too much. put more focus on how the world is changing after what happened with pain and the 4th war. show how theyre rebuilding and reforming the systems that lead to those events.