#like there’s something fundamentally draining about life otherwise

[faithfromanewperspective]

realising just how alone many of us are rn. and I’ve being saying ‘distribute social capital’ for years but it’s not that simple is it? like it’s something you have to build with every person, and we’re all so traumatised it just makes it twice as hard to get past all the coping mechanisms and life as it is now doesn’t allow the time for it. and it sucks to know I’m good at this very thing but at the same time, there’s only so much one person can do. like I struggle to pull together the people to make my own needs get met

[another-day]

time for another lovely EPISODE IN REVIEW!!! and boy, do we have a lot to discuss for this one

!!!SPOILERS FOR II EPISODE 16!!!

oh my gosh

that episode was insane, i’m still reeling from it, but let’s start from the beginning

i remember seeing a post somewhere where someone was saying 3gs would most likely have a very ‘army general’ type personality, and i think that still holds, just not to the degree i intially thought

he’s someone who focuses on motivation and praise to not only please but get people to follow through. this is not in the way of manipulation, just in order to get what needs to be done, done. expanding on his personality like this was so interesting, especially interspersing his moments of fear with his moments of joy because he hadn’t seen other people in years. it really goes to show how cobs can negatively affect other characters than mephone 4.

trophy has really grown as a character in the sense that he can now see the fundamental flaws in the persona of knife, though i do feel he’s still heavily guided in this by his own values. he has this firm belief that knife is similar if not the exact same as him; angry and violent. he breaks down all of the cracks in knife’s facade, but incorrectly so, which was interesting.

alongside this, knife is shown to still be perceived incorrectly to how wishes to be by many of the contestants. considering he’s trying to make such an effort to change and become a good person only for trophy to treat him like this is clearly dishesrtening to him. as much as he likes to build up his whole tough guy persona, in this episode and the last, we’ve seen that the words of others, especially those he considers allies, can really affect him. granted, trophy is no ally of his, but it still has an impact on him to be so shamelessly called out, even if a lot of it is assumption.

i love that they make everyone’s attempts to comfort suitcase feel so condescending in order to emphasise her confusion and disarray in terms of the situation. this feels like a circus, where suitcase is realising she’s a clown for being fooled. i love her reaction to realising nickel and balloon are friends because she has that underlying anger, yes, but more than anything else she’s confused and upset. soooo cool.

i nearly screamed but it was two in the morning when i was watching this so i did not.

but oh my gosh, the idea of “deleting” a character is horrifying. as taco put it, seeing “the life drain out of him” must’ve been horrifying for her. this, oj’s, and nickel’s deletion are only amped up by this prospect of having people around to see the life drain out of someone they were once friends with.

also why did it have to be pickle. literally what did he do.

also also, now we know what happened to toilet i guess.

forshadowing cobs being able to see wherever they go, alongside how everything of theirs in under control, even if not by cobs.

cobs is meant to parallel mephone 4 in this scene. his advertisment is very “brainwash”-y, and it emphasises what a hold he used to have on people and the control he once held through his creations. similarly so, through the reveal at the end, WHICH I’LL GET TO, we see that mephone similarly has control over all of the contestants, whether direct or otherwise. so very peculiar really.

depicting the death scenes like this was brilliant. a persuing entity, sounded by alarms that only the person who is to be killed can hear is a horrifying concept, and something so horrifying from an outsider perspective.

imagine this from paper’s perspective: you’re arguing with your best friend about the amount of tasks you’ve been given for so little credit, and you finally admit everything that’s been bothering you. instead of the reassurance you usually receive, your friend stands there in shock before asking “do you hear that?” you hear nothing. the fear on his face grows and he backs against the door, crying for something you can’t see to ‘stop’. you’re confused, but before you can question it, he’s dead, spilled. any semblance of life in him as disappeared, and everyone is terrified.

this was so masterfully executed all the times it happened; taco’s incoherency when she was found with pickle, the hotel’s reaction when oj spills, and baseball’s silence and shock as he re-enters after nickel’s death. it sets up a tone of horror, and shows just how unaware everyone truly is. soooooo very cool.

it was so cool seeing the purgatory crew again because i really missed these goofy guys. but it really gets you thinking about what role they’re going to play.

unlike bow, all of the “deleted” contestants have had their melife icons completely removed, so that begs the question; will they be turned into ghosts at purgatory mansion? bow states in the episode that it took her a while to appear in the mansion, so it gets you thinking if deletion counts as a perma-death, and those killed will be turned to ghosts.

knife’s very impersonal handling of this situation versus suitcase’s gentle assurance and questioning really brings out the difference between these two.

this scene is meant to make knife seem foolish for wanting to rush by all this, but that’s not what knife intends to look like, again bringing back this idea of misunderstanding his actions. knife doesn’t like focusing on what’s around him when he’s been given a clear objective, getting information to find cobs in this case. alongside this, he doesn’t have the same understanding of what 3gs has been through as suitcase, yet he tries, to a degree, to understand this individual. when knife isn’t given the information he needs, he looks for his own means of finding it, and moves ahead.

suitcase on the other hand is shown to want to take it slower. unlike knife, she’s more invested in the story than the lesson or outcome. this is something normally detrimental to someone in a finale, but due to their working together, knife doesn’t really get too far ahead of her. she wants to understand motivations for actions so that she can figure out how to respond, whereas knife just wants to, for lack of a better phrase, cut to the the chase. very interesting.

now, the titular reveal of the episode, “the reality of the situation”, if you will.

despite how of guard i was caught, this makes perfect sense.

though i don’t really like season three, cabby has a scene where she freaks out when questioned about her parents. i initially thought this had something to do with her memory issues, but this explanation makes much more sense. bot knew about theur parents because their parents actually exist, cabby’s did not.

no character ever talks about their past, nor their parents, nor their motivation to join the show. it all quite literally starts from the first episode, and picks up from there. that is why mephone can regenerate them. that is why when mephone dies they can’t be regenerated, because as their creator, he was the only one capable of REcreating them. its an incredible reveal, and a very well working one.

all in all, this episode was phenomenal. the chracter work and development and storyline were all so well done and i totally adore it. episode 15 was very character focused and took a step away from the plot. this episode on the other hand took the plot and bolted with it, scattering all slrts of bombshells on the way.

i love this episode because it shows unity and disharmony and everything really feels like its coming together and i’m so excited for the next episode.

till next time lovelies!!!

[cherubchoirs]

Every time I see that pinprick of a pupil and the crazed limitless energy it gives your V1 it makes me wonder; What if anything could get V1 to be truly 100%, flat hamster levels of relaxed and content? Could it achieve such a state on its own or would it need help from the like if Gabe / V2, ect?

so glad that little pupil gets its character across exactly...fully vibrating with the need to destroy at all times.....because v1 fundamentally is incredibly difficult to calm down, especially to the point where its background protocols might be suspended.

i have talked a little about this before, but v1 is capable of achieving some sense of composure if it can suppose that it's not currently engaged in battle and that the war is, for a time, removed from it. but even this reprieve is marked by restless energy: it becomes insatiably curious instead, still attempting to play, to explore, to relentlessly tear apart its surroundings for what it might discover in them. it wants constant engagement even outside of active battle, it wants its mind forever occupied and stimulated, and that's truly what makes it difficult to find actual repose. it just wants to do, it wants to go, even if that doesn't mean its routine violence - as such, it does need assistance to fully relax.

the first time it learns to do this is through gabriel because it has no incentive to do it otherwise and honestly...it can't really find enough peace in its own mind to accomplish it by itself. it can shutdown if it needs to, hibernate if it must, but it has no true downtime as it is now, programming attuned to the brutal pace of hell and the war it must keep making if it wants to stay alive. but now there's gabriel, and he's tired - the light has been torn out of him and he's drained besides, a refugee from a heaven he freed by killing his own people, coming to terms with all he's done and the lie that his life was. his energy is no longer limitless and his ability to indefinitely push through his exhaustion has left him...put simply, he needs a break. he wants peace, and eventually, when comfort and intimacy work their way into his relationship with v1, he wants to have that peace with it. in his mind, it seems highly achievable, natural even as they become close...but he has to find out that's unfortunately not the case. like. he understands v1 needs excitement and he's happy to give that, thriving in their sparring matches as much as the machine opposite him does. and it should then follow that they can find a more pleasant haunt, in limbo, in lust, wherever, where they can relax in each other's company - it's something he desperately wants now, to start balancing out the sharpness of their relationship. not because he doesn't deeply indulge in that sharpness, but because he wants to see other sides to v1, to see what it might do on an evening spent quietly in time passed slowly.

v1, turns out, is mystified by that!!!!! it can understand disengaging now, it knows how to relate to him without a fight through playing, through exploring, sometimes too through just...listening to him. a lot. he likes to talk. but this, it can't understand. gabriel seems to want very little, but that's the problem...what does it do? it doesn't want to go because it wants to be with him the way he wants to be with it, but it simply has nothing to go off of, nothing in its programming to direct it. so the night is much longer than expected, with gabriel trying to get it to understand what he wants while v1 sits still for all of two seconds, trying to clean its weapons or preoccupy its mind, before it's up to tear apart the house again. but they both know by now this is a relationship that requires a lot of learning and a lot of consideration for two creatures that can have very little understanding of what makes the other one work. so gabriel watches, seeing that v1 isn't leaving, not even going outside, so it's obvious it wants to be here. and soon he sees as it rifles through the home that it continuously picks up books, opens them to read a couple paragraphs of text, and then tosses them aside. he asks it why, if none of the books interest it, and he learns through some rudimentary and frustrated signing that it can't read "irrelevant" text, even if it's fascinated by the material. it's a headache, but it hasn't found a good way of circumventing that programming. gabriel gets about halfway through his offer to read to it before v1 scrambles around the room to pick up a dozen books and shove them at him, pointing emphatically at the pile.

and that's the first time v1 truly slows down - initially it's excited as always, restless and moving all over the bed gabriel takes it to, but eventually it can steady itself when it has his voice as an anchor. it listens attentively to his reading, keen interest and bright intellect attending each word and so satisfactorily occupied, settling in beside him as it uses the opportunity to meet him halfway. quiet. easy. his cadence is melodic and his delivery soft, v1 slowly writing this into its memory, copying down what it means to be at ease. its core programming resists it, but it wants everything it can take from its time with gabriel knowing how limited it all might be. so it takes it a few tries, a few more times of listening and almost brute forcing retirement, but it soon knows when it should slow down...when it itself might want to slow down. and it (quietly) thrills at it, eventually able to enjoy more idle conversation or perhaps just silence, although gabriel still reads to it quite often (it'll figure out that annoying piece of code one day...but it doesn't feel too pressing now)

[i-just-wanna-be-fuckin-happy]

A List of Things to Look for in a Ride-or-Die Friend

I’m not saying that each member of your Lady Harem (or militia or cartel or posse or whatever works for you) needs to have every single one of these qualities. But that would be nice! And I’m certainly not saying your acquaintances need to have all of the following. But here are things to keep in mind when looking for the people you want to call your family. Also: Don’t worry if your harem isn’t in place just yet! Simply start by getting a really clear picture of what you need. Once you have the space and the intention for a Lady Harem, watch how the right people seem to tango into your life.

Kindness. Over everything. Do you feel that this person is fundamentally kind? Or are they given to shit-talking, drama, and constant criticism of others? If you have a friend who is super judgmental behind people’s backs, rest assured that she is going to be JUST as judgy about you when you are not around. Sorry. There is no fucking time for people who want you to fail.

Confidence. It takes a confident person to love fully. It takes confidence to see the achievements of someone else as a wonderful thing. One thing all of the members of my Lady Harem have in common is that they are confident enough in themselves that they can shower love on others. The Lady Harem reminds you of your own power. They are able to celebrate and support your latest adventures and achievements because they don’t have chips on their shoulders. And when you fall flat on your face? They give you a hand up and show you the way back to your satin throne. Look for people who have the backbone to see your good-natured self as something awesome, not a threat. Remember, NO FRENEMIES ALLOWED. Not the kind who live in your brain OR the kind you meet in the real world. Please and thank you.

Self-awareness. How aware is your friend of their own behavior and how it affects others? Do they have perspective? Or did you fly all the way to Texas to be at her thirtieth birthday, but she is crying because you can stay for only two nights of the four-day weekend? When you come upon a friend issue, which you inevitably will, can you have a real conversation with this person? Can you say, “It hurts my feelings that you have rescheduled so many of our dates lately” and know that they will take that in? Are they aware enough that they can investigate themselves, or do they get super defensive and shut down? Picking a self-aware friend at the onset pays off at every single turn in a friendship. You can talk through the rough patches with someone who is aware.

Curiosity. Look for people who ask you questions and are engaged in your life while also letting you in to their stories. It’s too draining to have a friend who dumps emotional baggage on you without asking about what you’re going through, but it’s boring and unfulfilling to have a friend who won’t share their emotional life with you. How well can you actually know someone who is not open enough to share their feelings with you?

Secret sauce. There is some little piece of you that is, well, a little needy. And that’s okay. It’s healthy to “need” something from your friends. My secret sauce is that I look for people who come from a “good family.” I KNOW THIS IS UNFAIR. I DO NOT COME FROM A “GOOD FAMILY.” Yet I am aware enough to know that it’s healthiest for me to be around people who don’t have baggage identical to mine. Otherwise, we get our black suitcases of neglect mixed up, and suddenly I’m dealing with someone else’s mom issues. What’s the thing you need the most from friends? Maybe it’s loyalty. Maybe it’s humor. Think about what is important to you specifically and don’t be afraid to go look for it.

If all else fails: Do you feel good in this person’s company? Do you feel like a better version of yourself when you’re with them? Do you look forward to seeing them? Do you feel like you can be your actual silly self around this person, or are you performing some idea of yourself? Get honest. If you have a friend who doesn’t make you feel good, or who makes you doubt yourself, why are you calling this person a friend at all? People who make you doubt yourself are not your friends, they are your frenemies. And again, NO FRENEMIES ALLOWED.

[limey-self-inserts]

Howdy Limey!! I wanted to ask these for Sirius and Obitus (think of each question being for both please!)

5. "Oh, how you delight me!" What are your OC F/O's favorite things in life? (Flowers, foods, places, music, let us know!)

8. "The world is your oyster." What are your OC F/O's favorite hobbies? Do you share their hobbies? Have they taught you anything new?

28. "Let's agree to disagree." Is there anything you and your OC F/O fundamentally don't agree on and even sometimes bicker about? What is it, and who has what stance on the matter?

37. "It's your fight but I'm in your corner." Is there anything that your OC F/O struggles with regularly or occasionally? How do they usually handle it? Do they ask for help or do they tend to withdraw? How do you try to help them when they reach out to you?

48. "Everywhere, in everything, all the time." What elements in nature (earth, wind, fire, air, stone, wood, smoke, etc) do you associate with your OC F/O? Why? What's your reasonings, if you have them? What would your OC F/O say is your element, and what would be their reasoning?

50. "Who will take care of us, if not us ourselves?" How does your OC F/O practice self care? What do they like to do to treat themselves? What kind of body wash and shampoo/conditioner do they prefer? How do they help you practice more self care?

Please also pass on my warm regards to both Sirius and Obitus and know I hope this finds you in good cheer and good health✨💚

Tex @tex-treasures

thank you very kindly Tex!

5. "Oh, how you delight me!" What are your OC F/O's favorite things in life? (Flowers, foods, places, music, let us know!)

Sirius: While he's not being a mild hedonist trying to drain nobles for every fine food, wine or treat they've got in the building, Sirius has a lot more simple joys in life. Toasted bread with garlic, basil and butter; carnations in a variety of colors; buskers with violins and drums; public spaces late at night, like the market square, the stables or the library; his friend Kysteros' place; sharp sweet smells like oranges, peaches and wood chips.

Obitus: Rare gemstones. He loves rare gemstones so much, if you were to gift him one outright you'd have a friend for life. His collection halls are vast, with special containers for every treasure he owns to view at his pleasure. Aside from his hoarding pursuits, he enjoys herbal & floral teas, jasmines, the space of his forge, and his daily obstacle course run.

8. "The world is your oyster." What are your OC F/O's favorite hobbies? Do you share their hobbies? Have they taught you anything new?

Sirius: Does 'having a good time' count as a hobby? No? In which case Sirius' favourite hobby is bird-watching! He's got a real knowledge of birds of all kinds, whether they're from the human, fae or other worlds. If he had the spare time he'd probably invest in bird-keeping (nothing too dramatic, maybe some pigeons or finches). We both enjoy pointing out birds when out traveling, and he's helped teach me more about birds from outside the human realm.

Obitus: He's really into metal crafting, especially making gold/silver jewellery. Yes he wears a lot of his own creations, he likes to show them off. On the very rarest occasions, they'll decorate them with something from his hoard, but otherwise it's simple metal, maybe with some 'basic' gem/pearl decorations. I've been treated to a couple of attempts at basic metal-working, they've not let me close to the forge but I've done chain-linking and made some nice bracelets and a necklace! (We're not gonna talk about the assassination hobby)

28. "Let's agree to disagree." Is there anything you and your OC F/O fundamentally don't agree on and even sometimes bicker about? What is it, and who has what stance on the matter?

Sirius: Responsibility. Sometimes I have a lot of magi pressures to deal with, and Sirius generally recommends putting some of those pressures onto someone else who would be able to deal with it. But at the end of the day, these are tasks meant for a magi. Even if someone else could do them, I feel it is my responsibility to carry them out. I say it's necessary, Sirius believes that I shouldn't have to do everything. There's been a decent amount of bickering over this, but nothing severe has come from it.

Obitus: Neglect. Through a combination of being a very reclusive people, being technically immortal (like lobsters), and only really willing to become involved in a conflict if it involves a threatened item/group, then space dragons just don't really care about problems in the rest of the realms. Even when Obitus was stuck in the fae realm and caught up in its problems, he didn't want to get involved. It's taken (and still takes) a lot of arguing on my part for them to consider helping out with others.

37. "It's your fight but I'm in your corner." Is there anything that your OC F/O struggles with regularly or occasionally? How do they usually handle it? Do they ask for help or do they tend to withdraw? How do you try to help them when they reach out to you?

Sirius: General help, honestly. Familiars of magi tend to come from noble families, and while Sirius is technically from one such family, he chose to estrange himself and thus didn't gain any of the help or benefits from family connections/support. He's gone so long getting by with minimal support that remembering to ask for help is not his forte, and he runs the risk of emotional/mental burnout.

Obitus: Bouts of insomnia. They do take various teas for it, and on worse days they'll try to work themselves to exhaustion to try and crash into sleep. But sometimes they'll have a whole week where they don't get sufficient sleep and makes them feel very unwell (headaches, fatigue, dizziness). The sick feeling makes them want to withdraw a lot, but it also makes them hugely touch affectionate, so I tend to provide with cuddle sessions.

48. "Everywhere, in everything, all the time." What elements in nature (earth, wind, fire, air, stone, wood, smoke, etc) do you associate with your OC F/O? Why? What's your reasonings, if you have them? What would your OC F/O say is your element, and what would be their reasoning?

Sirius: Fire and stone. Sirius is capable of producing small 'meteors' of flame that encircle him, which he can also send shooting out towards opponents. Granted this move exhausts him. His strongest ability is called 'Aegis', where he summons a powerful shield to block himself and whoever is nearby. As strong and fiery as he can be when in a debate, his greatest strength is protecting his charge(s). He sees water as my main element - adaptive, healing but also destructive.

Obitus: Smoke and ice. Capable of moving incredibly quickly and silently, Obitus is certainly capable of fading in and out of a space plus passing through the air like smoke. His attitude can be pretty cold, though it isn't always bad, he's just very professional and distant from anything that isn't his interest/job. He sees air as my main element - a true force of nature.

50. "Who will take care of us, if not us ourselves?" How does your OC F/O practice self care? What do they like to do to treat themselves? What kind of body wash and shampoo/conditioner do they prefer? How do they help you practice more self care?

Sirius: A good self-care night for Sirius involves a half an hour bath with some really nice floral-scented bath oils to get the water full of foam bubbles and smelling pretty, and also so he can wash his hair in it. This is followed up by a sweet pastry (usually gets popped in the microwave to warm up for extra softness) and curling up on the sofa with a good book that he will inevitable fall asleep reading. I do like to nudge him to buy some fancier bath oils/bath bombs (especially if we're in the human realm), or encourage curling up in bed together so he doesn't fuck his neck up when he inevitably falls asleep. Meanwhile he likes to nudge me to enjoy baths full-stop - I prefer to go for quick showers, but he helps me see the benefit of stopping for a while and having a long soak. Sometimes we wash each other's hair. It's a nice time.

Obitus: Spa treatment. The full works. Bubble bath, extremely fancy body wash (with crushed rose, lavender, and rock salts), masseuse, claw buffing - he almost literally is glowing by the end. He even has a massive plush cushion that he can collapse in afterwards instead of his usual bed. He's definitely tried to get me to indulge way more whenever I do my usual self-care, and when I say I can't afford it then he persuades me to go through his spa regime. They have learned though this usually results in me being entirely unable to move (in a good way). Fair enough, room for two on the cushion bed.

[interact-if]

Day 3 of the People With Disabilities Month Featured Author Interviews! Next up, we’ve got...Jess! 

Jess, author of Fields of Asphodel and co-author of Diaspora

People With Disabilities Month Featured Author

Fields of Asphodel is a game in which the player takes on the role of the Greek pantheon’s deity of spring, on the eve of their (decidedly political) marriage to Hades, Lord of the Dead. After the constantly-simmering feud between Zeus and Demeter results in the rather unfortunate circumstance of a marriage neither party really consents to, the PC is whisked away to the Underworld, an unfamiliar realm that is all but the antithesis of fair Olympus.

There, they have the chance to make what they will of the lot they have drawn. The residents of the Underworld are an unusual, and unusually-accepting bunch, and there are friends or possible romantic connections to be made as well as a rather odd supporting cast to get to know, from the ever-bickering Moirae sisters to Hades’s young adopted daughter Makaria to Kerberos, the gigantic, fire-breathing, three-headed dog.

But for all its charms—if indeed the PC should find any—the Underworld is not without its problems, and when a mysterious wasting disease afflicts Lethe, the river goddess of oblivion, the entire balance of life and death may be in jeopardy. It will take the PC, as well as the rest of the cast, to not only cure the affliction, but solve the mystery of what’s causing it, and deal with the ever-spiraling fallout of the dead beginning to remember.

Of course, I shouldn’t be misleading—the game is mostly about the relationships between its characters, and found family.

Fields of Asphodel Demo | Diaspora Demo | Discord | Author’s Ko-fi | Patreon | Kraken Studios Ko-fi | Kraken Studios Patreon | Read more about Fields of Asphodel [here] and Diaspora [here]

Tags: Romance, Mythology

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1. So, tell us a little bit about the projects you're working on! 

Well, currently I’m working on two IFs, Fields of Asphodel and (with my awesome friend August) Diaspora. Asphodel is a retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth, but a lot more queer and less… you know. Weird and problematic in myth-typical ways. So it boils down to ‘child of Demeter politically manipulated into marriage with Awkward Single Dad by third party,’ but the story can proceed several different ways from that premise. Fundamentally, I think it’s about becoming yourself, and the comfort of acceptance, and belonging.

Diaspora is by far the longer project in the making. I think we’ve been working on it since… maybe 2014? 2015? I’m not sure. It’s been slow, but the thing’s nearly a million words and almost done, so that’s exciting. It’s a mid/low fantasy about a raiding culture expelled from their home territory by a war. The player character is the child of Chief Roise of Clan Maghnus, and what’s left of your clan comes south in search of a new place to live. You take over a pretty nice island, only to find that the big empire who already owns it isn’t too happy with you. It’s about culture clash, and what home means, and trying to find the best way forward when there are no perfect people, or options.

Q2. What has been your favorite thing about interactive fiction as a medium? What are some of the biggest challenges?

I  think my favorite thing about IF is the nuance that it allows. It’s a bare bones medium—there’s words, and at maximum some basic visual assets otherwise, but just as often none of that. It means the focus is the story, and it also means you can really dig into that. Flavor it with subtle variations, and in general just kind of… give it the kind of descriptive detail that something like a video game can’t usually have, with the variation that a novel can’t. It’s an interesting middle to be sitting in.

Challenge-wise, it really gets draining sometimes, doing all of that. It’s rewarding in its way, but sometimes I have to remind myself that ‘even if 95% of people never see this, it’s important to have here for the 5% that do.’ It can get tough, writing sideways instead of forward, especially if you really want to go forward!

Q3. What is something you're excited to explore within your work?

I take myself to have a lot of pretentious interest in things like imagination and the power of narrative, haha. So a lot of my personal interest comes from playing around with stories, either ones made up by me, or new takes on ones made up by other people. But I guess less broadly, I like being able to make and share characters that are a little different than most of what happens in the mainstream. And the themes I pick are all ones that interest me personally: what home is, what belonging is, change and compromise and how much of those things is too much and how much isn’t enough—all that sort of thing.

Also, as far as Asphodel goes, I’ve heard it described as a ‘comfort IF’ and honestly, that appeals to me. I wrote its characters as people I would want to be surrounded by—and the story isn’t meant to stress anyone out. It can and will get high-stakes, but exploring how to do that without making something that’s actually anxiety-inducing to play has been an interesting experiment.

Q4. Has your disability influenced your work? Whether it's worldbuilding, the design, the process, and positive or negative--what is your advice in working with your disability and being creative?

Sure they have. My Autism just kind of influences how I see and exist in the world, and that apparently comes through so much in my writing that not only did at least a couple readers know I was Autistic before I did, but at least one was prompted to seek (and received) a diagnosis of their own by relating strongly to some of the neurodivergent options and characters in Asphodel.

My physical disability is something I’m still coming to terms with, because it isn’t something well-known or talked about and it’s generally invisible to other people. Because of this, it’s sometimes hard to recognize myself as disabled, and especially hard to ask for help. But it comes through in small ways in my writing as well, I think, and I’m interested in exploring it more in the future. 

As for working with a disability and being creative… I think that’s going to be an answer that varies with every disabled person! For me, routine and habit are extremely important. If I fall out of a daily progress habit I can come to an abrupt halt, and it’s much, much harder to get started again. I also can’t do too many things at a time, but I do need to do more than one. It helps keep the wheels greased, so to speak. It doesn’t all have to be IF, of course—sometimes switching mediums can be helpful too. Some people can’t write every day, though, and that’s just fine. What works for me won’t work for everyone; not even every Autistic person.

I encourage people who are struggling with this to experiment, but give the experiments time to show their results. If you’re like me, you may not have realized you’re disabled/ND/whatever for much of your life, and maybe even learned to do things the way other people have always told you to do them or how they ‘should be’ done. But even if that’s true, you might find it’s immensely better if you use your particular brain to your advantage instead of trying to cram it into someone else’s mold. I admire people who can sit down and crank out 10,000 words in a day and then take a week off before the next bunch (or not!), but I sure can’t. I have to do a much smaller amount, consistently. Neither way is right or wrong, they just work for different people. 

Q5. what's an accessibility issue you see glazed over a lot in IF? and what accessibility features would you like to see implemented more in IF?

I think for me at least a lot of games assume that I (or, well, the reader) am/is much better at interpreting tone than I actually am. I’m not the absolute worst at it by any means, but I definitely struggle sometimes, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve unintentionally picked an option that’s totally at-odds in the following text with how I imagined it to be. I’ve personally chosen to fix this in Asphodel with an optional system of symbols that helps indicate what tone the choice has. It’s not a perfect system, but I think it’s better than nothing. I’m sure some people can write clearly enough that this is obvious from text alone always, but I’m not one of them!

Maybe less prominent but still something I’ve noticed is that a lot of player characters are assumed to be totally comfortable in situations that would make my skin crawl, haha. Loud gatherings, for just one example. I can see why sometimes this is just the character I’m playing, so it doesn’t bother me much (especially because I don’t self-insert), but I do always kind of have a little laugh about it. One pretty easy thing to do would be to give options just for discomfort with more things like that, I suspect. The writer could make it necessary to do anyway, make the character just kind of mask it, if it’s required to move the plot forward, but little things like that can make a big difference. I guess that’s not really an ‘accessibility feature’ in the usual sense, but it’s something I think about a lot from the perspective I have as a disabled person, so there it is.

Q6. What is something you'd love to see in interactive fiction?

I think a lot of people are afraid to write disabled characters. That’s understandable in a way, because a lot of them have been poorly-done, in the history of fiction, but I’d like to see more people try. It takes research, and intentionality, but it can be done. I suspect, though cannot confirm, that one of the reasons behind this in IF is that people aren’t really sure what role such a character could play, and I further suspect that this is because a lot of people, through no fault of their own, really have no idea what life with disability is like.

So to those people I say: we’re as widely-varied in what we can and can’t do as everyone else. Please consider looking at what roles you want to fill in your story and choosing some to give to disabled characters. Research will go a long way, but do a little more than you think you need, just in case. And make sure that you’re listening most carefully to the voices of disabled people themselves, rather than their parents, doctors, and the like.

Q7. Any advice to give to aspiring devs?

I think this whole interview has been packed with unsolicited advice, but I guess as a final note I’d just say… if you’re interested in trying a project, try it! I know there’s a lot of hurdles that can get in the way of that—worries that you aren’t good enough, or that no one will read it, or that you’ll never finish it, or what-have-you. I’ve experienced, and from time to time do still experience, all of those things.

But I’ve figured out the secret: there’s no such thing as talent. Just persistence. You are good enough, and you’ll get better as you practice. The only person you need to write for is you; people will show up (if you want to share) because if something is you enough, it’s going to resonate with someone. It just is. And if you don’t finish… well, is that so bad? You’ll have learned something that doesn’t work for you, and probably a lot of other things besides. If you think it’s worth doing, and have a story you want to try and the ability to at least make the attempt, then you’re golden. If you need permission, I hereby give it to you—and for all my fellow tone-challenged people, I say that all with complete sincerity.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say…. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

[luuurien]

Steve Lacy - Gemini Rights

(Neo-Soul, Alternative R&B, Bedroom Pop)

Going away with his tried-and-true phone/laptop production and embracing the fullness and extra polish of the studio, Steve Lacy's second album sounds better than he ever has before. Other than that, Gemini Rights is a failure on just about every level, with one-dimensional instrumentals, stiff vocals and awkward songwriting that fails to be anything more than wallpaper. It emphasizes aesthetics over strong, dynamic compositions, and because of that, the majority of its songs are a complete bore.

☆☆

It's always frustrating when an artist clearly has the instrumental chops and production know-how to make great music, but so constantly pigeonholes themselves into what's safe and familiar to the point it becomes boring and disaffected. For me, this is how it's always been with Steve Lacy: he's got a ton of personality and charisma in interviews; his work in supergroup The Internet has always been stellar; his production on albums like Isolation, When I Get Home, and HYPNOS have brought to life some of the warmest and most elegant songs those respective artists have put out; otherwise, it seems like he's unsure exactly of what he's doing. His 2019 debut Apollo XXI was nothing short of a blunder, trying to expand the sound of his cozy, iPhone-produced demos while somehow still possessing their messiness and rough edges without any of the previous charm, and his sophomore album similarly follows suit, albeit with a more pristine sound to it all. Regardless, Gemini Rights is still an unfocused and half-formed mess of a breakup album, rooted in Lacy's breakup with a boyfriend yet lacking any of the musical depth or lyrical steadiness to make those emotions land. It feels like an appitizer of ideas rather than a full meal, and even at just 35 minutes it's a total snooze. Working in an actual studio and doing away with his tried and true phone/laptop production, the best thing about Gemini Rights is that it sounds better than Lacy ever has before. The low end of the mixes are thick and warm, given just enough presence to cocoon around the rest of the instrumentation without overblowing the mix; his vocal layers have soft and delicate harmonies that give an extra bite to his performances without sitting so high above everything else that the rest of the instrumentation is drained out; his signature jangly guitar tone learns to careen around orchestral strings and plush synth pads. Where Apollo XXI suffered from its production being both dense and unpolished, Gemini Rights is able to make most of its songs listenable at the least when every element of them is given such a rich tone and warm presence. But like his past projects, Gemini Rights' sound can't make up for how limp his compositions and songwriting are, rarely moving far from where they started and leaving the songs rigid and dry, the opening run of the ambient pop drawl Static to the rigid R&B tune Buttons some of the most agonizingly stale and inconsequential 13 minutes I've had with any album this year. His songwriting also takes more than a few nosedives throughout, some of my favorite failures to say anything even half-interesting being "You're fucking yourself, do you feel the toy?" off Static and Mercury's "I looked up at the ceiling as I draft my 'I'm so sorry' text," the majority of his lyrics on these four tracks and the album as a whole devoid of any of the emotional vulnerability that would make these breakup songs feel impactful and memorable. Despite the album's astrological title and dreamy production, Gemini Rights still shows Lacy working at the surface level, unwilling to dig deeper into his sound and working off the same old neo-soul fundamentals he barely cares to flesh out most of the time. The few good tracks on Gemini Rights turn out that way largely because he's either actually decided to flesh out a song or because he's trying something new. Album single Bad Habit, by far the catchiest of the songs on offer as well as the album's centerpiece, plays off a simple chord production and churning bassline that have just enough energy behind them for Lacy's bubblegum hook to stick, and the clever beat switch halfway through keeps the original groove from getting stale as he gives the song a whole new mood that brings it to a mellow, sunny finish. The Fousheé-assisted Sunshine (though she does have writing credits on half of the album's songs) plays off something a bit poppier, an upbeat drum pad and heavenly vocal layers making for an expressive and playful ode to the lingering feelings of love for someone you still have even after things have ended, the kind of bright sentimentality the rest of Gemini Rights is sorely missing throughout, and even when he does get a bit more gooey with things like on the aquatic finale Give You the World, that song's commitment to something slow and watery lets the song go down whiskey-smooth, Lacy's breathy falsetto a bit too dramatic at times but with just enough extra weight to it to make for an enjoyable, if somewhat waterlogged end to things. What sucks about all three of them, though, is that they're all still suffering from the longstanding issues Lacy's music has been trying to fight off for years now: it still sounds distant and detached, like he's singing of heartbreak after smoking a bowl, any potential tension within the songs dissolved by his one-note production and unwillingness to let these songs move move more fluidly so that his storytelling and emotions can follow suit. Gemini Rights doesn't have anything particularly exciting to offer, and when the music sounds this bland, it's hard to find much worth coming back to. Like his other albums, Gemini Rights' sound is one agreeable enough to soundtrack a late-night study session or afternoon hangout with your friends, easygoing and brisk R&B that doesn't ask for much of your attention. But as an album to listen to and engage with on its own terms, Gemini Rights makes you reach more than halfway to get any enjoyment out of it, Lacy's music so unenthused and reserved that trying to connect with him emotionally feels like you're running your hands across a pruned barrel cactus, just smooth enough for your skin to move atop but still leaving you bored and wanting to do anything else nonetheless. Steve Lacy has the skills to make great music, and he has in the past with collaborators and production work on other albums, but it seems like when it comes to his own projects we only get the bare minimum. Whatever the reasons for its numbness and flat musicianship, Gemini Rights rarely manages to be above par half the time.

[legendary-assassin-stance]

4, 10, 18, 19, 22, and 33, for all of your Spirit Avatars! >:3c

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Anton runs from his problems, more often than not, and things slide off his back the easiest -- the whole situation involving Jormag and the corrupted Spirits in Bjora and Drizzlewood, however, did rattle him a little bit.

Verthandi has had a relatively cushy life, so no. Much like everyone else, though, Jormag unsettled her greatly, and she absolutely hates stepping foot in Bjora now.

Magni lost one of his bear companions and her cubs to Svanir traps years ago and it still weighs on him a bit -- by the time that he’d been able to find the trio, it was too far past the point of helping or healing them, so he had to put them down himself. If there are any people in the world that Magni holds a grudge over, it’s the Sons of Svanir.

Kai actually had to kill his own father when he was a pre-teen (somewhere in the 10-13 range) -- absolutely no one except for himself and his mother know about this incident. His father had fallen to the sway of the Sons of Svanir, having gained “friends” through drinks at the local tavern, and had come home one night half-drunk and raging about his “worthless” pup of a son and how his wife was “always trying to undermine” his good faith and love for his family. He, of course, made the mistake of trying to assault Kai’s mother, which caused Kai to leap to her defense. It haunts him still, and it’s why Kai very much dotes on his mother as much as possible. He refuses to stumble down the same path his father did.

Sif, Tyr, and Vidar all had to watch helplessly, stuck in a limbo between the physical world and Mists, as their patron Spirits (Eagle, Ox, and Whale, respectively) got twisted and corrupted by Jormag over many, many years. It drained the Spirits of their power and energy, and even with Jormag defeated, they’re still recovering -- all the Spirits, their Avatars, and the Commanders, know about what happened, but anyone outside of that circle (except maybe like, the havrouns?) have no idea.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Anton is usually seen with scant amounts of clothing on -- he hates feeling restricted, and clothes get in the way of movement (and also he just likes showing his body off)

Vidar can go either way, honestly -- it wholly depends on the environment he’s in (i.e: will he need to willingly swim? is it humid enough to want to die? etc.)

Verthandi is much like Anton, except she doesn’t care about showing her body off -- clothes just get in the way, and she only really wears “fancy” things whenever she’s around Hoelbrak

Sif tends to wear less, but that’s solely because she hates the feeling of clothing restricting her movements in any manner.

Magni wears the most Dad Clothes in existence (i.e: anything that shows off his arms, and shorts) so he’s like... middling?

Kai likes to wear hefty armor only if he’s in areas that could possibly be dangerous -- otherwise, he prefers to wear non-restrictive clothing (if he’s in his norn form at all, he greatly prefers his “Become The Wolf” or his full wolf form over anything else).

Tyr prefers to wear armor whenever possible -- she feels vulnerable without it (and it makes it easier to bodyslam bitches on the fly).

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

Anton, Sif, and Tyr admire ambition.

Vidar and Verthandi admires wisdom above all.

Kai and Magni admire both.

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Anton is very..... flighty. He doesn’t like to commit to things, let alone other people, and usually finds that having flings, one-night-stands, and touch-and-go friendships means he’s free to do whatever the hell he wants with his life (his Spirit notwithstanding, though Mink doesn’t seem to mind very much).

Vidar, Kai, and Magni are probably the most stable out of all my Spirit Avatars lmao very easy to get along with, and amicable to everyone they meet (usually).

Verthandi is pretty much nonexistent except to the Spirits, the other Avatars, and the havrouns. Trying to find this woman is practically impossible unless you know where and when to look, and she prefers it that way. Being any level of sociable with more than 5 people at once gives her a headache.

Sif is amicable to get along with, though she has a bit of a prideful streak which can definitely cause her to butt heads with people sometimes.

Tyr tends to be...... extremely stubborn. It is possible to knock her down a couple notches if you’re the right person, but she has to respect you first.

22. What does your character like in other people?

Anton enjoys anyone who can take a joke or prank -- he is, above all, a trickster, and being around anyone who gets all moody about his antics isn’t very fun.

Vidar enjoys those he can tell stories to, or that have interest in old tales and wisdoms -- he takes the preservation of tales, legends, and folk songs very seriously, and being able to share them to others who will retell them makes him happy.

Sif can and will leave you in the dust if you don’t keep up with her, so someone who either doesn’t mind that, or can keep pace is someone that she can consider worthy of her time.

Magni can appreciate anyone whose up for drinking contests and just general tomfoolery. He’s very rough-n-tumble, and those who can keep up with that are good in his book.

Kai tends to like everyone -- he’s personable and excitable, and loves going on new adventures and seeing new sights with others!

Tyr and Verthandi are the least social out of my Avatars, but they definitely appreciate those who give them space and understand that their duty as Spirit Avatars come before really.... anything else. They’re here because they need to be, and much of everything else tends to be a distraction to them. (I swear it’s possible to be friends with them, they just have a very. particular. sense of what “friends” are.)

33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

Anton is very defensive, depending on your tone (which will also dictate how he handles it; the calmer you are, the more likely he won’t brush it off, but yelling at him is a prime way of making him ignore you).

Vidar takes it in stride, betters himself if he does feel like he’s accidentally wronged others, and generally recollects on it and makes a level-headed decision -- out of all my Spirit Avatars, he handles criticism the best.

Verthandi tends to be rather defensive, but with enough evidence to back the criticism up, she’ll concede. (if you try to come at her with criticism without evidence, however, she’ll bite you. not literally well, maybe but it’ll definitely hurt).

Sif handles criticism like any good norn would: you wanna call her out? then you’ll have to beat her in a fair fight about it (and unlike tyr, it’s in a friendly manner, of course -- what’s some traded blows between comrades if it means you don’t remember what the brawl started about?)

Magni -- much like Vidar -- handles criticism pretty well, though Magni’s way of dealing with it tends to be sharing many, many rounds in whatever tavern is nearby with whoever brought the criticism up, as a manner of smoothing things over with the person(s) involved.

Kai feels horrible when criticized, and (depending on who you are) he’ll bend over backwards to make things right with those who feel wronged, while making sure it never happens again.

Tyr would much rather suplex you than deal with being called out or criticized, even if whatever the issue is was her fault -- she handles criticism the worst, out of everyone.

[silentprincess17]

Sometimes Things Have To Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Dusk of the First Day

TW: rope burns, emotional trauma.

They left her there

In the sun

With a shirt half ripped, mercy to the wind, sand and heat.

He didn’t know where to look.

He wanted to see if she was okay.

But he didn’t want to ruin whatever shred of dignity she had left.

So, he stood sideways. If anything moved into her vicinity he would know. Not like he could do much, but it would be better for him to at least know.

Would it though?

The guilt seared through him, branding him more than the wound under his eye could. He pressed his head against the bars. He felt so wrung out, so weak. He was used to fighting, to being able to actually do something. He’d never been so helpless before. The irony was that he’d received training to deal with interrogation in case the Yiga ever captured him. He’d been trained under Sheikah tutelage, specifically, about methods to hold in one’s emotions and pains whilst imprisoned by the enemy.

But… he had not received training for what to do when it was the Princess being tortured. Whilst he watched. Powerless. What was he supposed to do when the person whose life he was meant to defend with his own was being humiliated in such a vulgar way? The worst thing was that he’d completely and utterly failed to handle the responsibility he has given. She was entrusted to him by the King, and he had failed. He’d failed not only as her Appointed Knight, but as her supposed Hero, and that seared the most. Some counterpart he was to her soul if he couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

Eventually the same researchers came back, this time accompanied by some Yiga Foot soldiers. Link felt unbridled fury run rampant through him at the sight, because despite his fatigue, he still had enough strength to swear on the Golden Three he'd avenge her. He'd find them, and he'd make sure they regretted even setting eyes on his Princess.

"No change still. Hm. Prolonged exposure made no difference. Well, that's... good news. Let her down, now."

Link was extremely confused, at this whole scenario, but he ignored that, right now his focus would be on Zelda. And trying to help her. He pulled his tunic off and turned his gaze away from the world outside.

“Don’t fight Hero, or we’ll put her in chains. Don’t think we won’t. You might want to cover her up. Or maybe you’ll enjoy the sight too, not like she ever gave you much joy otherwise."

Link was too emotionally drained to pay much heed to their words, he'd already seen the clamps in their hands before they brought Zelda over and hence knew it was useless trying to intervene. The same thing that happened earlier today would repeat itself and this time Zelda would much closer and he just-

They snickered away, teleporting out once they shoved her in.

He didn’t look at her, couldn't bring himself to. He felt so ashamed. He offered his tunic to her, with his hand behind his back, still not looking.

He felt her take it.

And then he heard her sink to the floor.

He didn't know what to do. Did he try to step closer? He wasn’t sure that was what she would want right now. Hell, even at the best of times she hated his presence, and whilst it had felt like they’d turned a new leaf last night… a lot had happened since then.

She sniffed. And his heart broke. “Is the sight of a tainted Princess so disgusting that the Great Hero of Hyrule, blessed by Hylia herself, can’t lay his oh-so-holy eyes on her?”

He spun and was by her side in a second, kneeling. “You could never be tainted.”

The sand clung to her hair, and all the way along the side of her face and neck, both of which had reddened a little from all the exposure to the sun.

She laughed but it was sarcastic, dripped in venom. And it made him scared. “That’s the first I’ve ever heard you speak. Keen to defend your honour Hero?” She scoffed. “I’m sure somehow father will still find a way for this to be my fault. If only you spent more time in dedication to the Goddess, then maybe she would have blessed you with the powers that would have allowed you to get out of this situation. You would have been stronger than them. You would not have allowed yourself to be humiliated.”

Goddesses above. The power. Fundamentally, everything came back to the Calamity... It was so powerful, hell, even it's impending arrival had already wrecked havoc with their lives. He didn't have the answer to her powers, but he wasn't so sure the key was with prayer to the Goddess. He was just as clueless with the sword, and if it would be enough, but it wasn't right to bring that up now. It would be like rubbing salt into her wound. Because at least he had the sword. And... he sort of understood what she was doing. And he’d let her do it. She was hurt. He was too, but he’d shoulder any burden of hers he could. “And he’s silent again.”

Crap, he hadn't meant- “I’m sorry Princess. I’m really sorry.” He didn't know what else to say. He bowed his head, the sight of her burnt and upset felt like a stab to his soul. He heard her sigh, and then she knelt back against the very bars his hands had become blistered, red and swollen from hitting so much.

He hesitantly sat down next to her, wary of her boundaries.

They stayed like that for a while, until she caught sight of his hands. She reached over and traced a faint line over where his skin had split open from the abuse it had received. Sand lined the edges of the wound and he would be lying if he didn’t admit that it stung. And then she shuffled just a little closer.

Link took a series of small half-panicked breaths. He moved, very slowly, as though she was made of glass that could shatter and touched his fingertips on her shoulder. She leant back a little, so his whole hand was now touching her. He took that to mean it was okay to touch, and slowly wrapped his arm around her fully. She shivered, and he started to rub his hand up and down her arm, in an attempt to warm her up.

He observed her throughout. At any sign of discomfort, he would stop, but she hadn’t shown any yet, only leaning into his arm slightly.

Her lower lip trembled. He immediately stopped. She shook her head, “I’m overreacting. I just asked for forgiveness yesterday and look at what I’m doing today.” She blinked rapidly; he could tell she was holding back tears. “It. It could have been worse. I still have my chest guard on. So. They didn’t cut through that.”

He was relieved, honestly, because she’d been spared that, but regardless it was humiliating. “It doesn’t make your pain any less valid Princess, regardless of how many layers they cut through.”

She stiffened at his validation, his corroboration that it wasn’t her fault, because that is what this was about truly, that is why she brought up her father, and her inability to unlock the power. She angrily brushed back the few tears that had dared to make their way through.

He felt sick, bruised and battered, watching her. It was heart-breaking. “It’s okay to cry Princess. It doesn’t mean they’ve won.”

She stared hard at his chest, before slowly looking up to him, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Truly properly seeing him. He guessed it was hard to know someone's intentions if they remained silent. He’d promised himself today though, there was no one here to put a façade on for. And he vowed that he would at least try to help her, even if he didn’t know how.

She latched onto his other arm, fisting the fabric in her hand, and slowly laid her head down on his shoulder. He assumed he said the right thing then, and he slowly exhaled a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding in.

Something his mother had always done for him whenever he’d hurt himself as a child was to brush through his hair. He wasn’t sure that would be appreciated here though. He didn’t want to touch her more than she allowed. What else could he do?

… the lullaby. He knew the lullaby. He could hum the lullaby. He waited for a while, letting her breathing settle a little. He wasn’t sure how she’d respond. She felt so fragile in his arms, like a frightened deer and he was terrified of scaring her away, of hurting her more than she had suffered through already.

A few minutes passed and she was still gripping his shirt, still rigid and tense, and he decided it was worth a shot. He could always stop if she told him too.

She inhaled, sharply, once he started. And then she leaned closer still, until her head was practically on his chest, her ear pressed against his sternum. Could she tell his heart rate had tripled since she moved closer?

He felt, rather than heard, her tears. They pierced through his thin undershirt, blot by blot, each one a stab to his heart.

He would be lying if he didn’t cry too, and it messed up the rhythm a little.

And she looked up, sitting up a little so she could see more of him, probably wondering why his voice had cracked halfway through. And she gasped. “What-”

She raised a hand to his face, and gently brushed the tears away from his left eye and then hovered over his right.

Oh. Oh yes, he’d been hurt. He imagined it probably wasn’t a pretty sight, a fairly deep gouge into the skin between his eye and cheek. He didn’t have her needles so he couldn’t fix it. Even if he did have thread, it wasn’t like he could even see it. It throbbed but it felt nothing compared to the turmoil that had run through him the entirety of the day.

“I refused to look.”

And his gaze flitted from her over-filled eyes, the dull haunted look in them making his heart twist for the umpteenth time today, to her wrist.

And he almost had a heart attack.

Dear Goddesses, he was going to end up with severe cardiac problems after this.

He gently grasped her hand and turned it so he could see properly. Her entire wrist was mangled, red, sore… Chapped from rope burns, no doubt, as she tried to wrench free at the posts.

She sighed. And held up her other hand, and then brought her ankles close, all of which were in a similar state, her ankles less so because it was harder to twist against rope with them.

And then she got out her kit. She moved to him first and he was horrified, snatching it out of her hands and pointing towards the designated bed area. She frowned. He didn’t back down. To hell with her taking care of him, after today.

She shuffled across, probably realising that this was a fight she was doomed to lose. As he moved to clean the wound with the little cup of water the Yiga had left them when they’d dropped Zelda off, she stopped him. “We shouldn’t waste water this way, Link. We both need to drink it rather than clean wounds out. Dehydration trumps infection in the causes of death order, Sir Link.”

He accepted; she was right. Who knew when the next water-cup would come? He keenly felt the loss of his pouches, for the small first aid kit he always carried, and the antiseptic cream he had. He did the best he could, using small pieces of Champion blue cloth to bind around her wrists and ankles, in a makeshift bandage. And then he got unceremoniously pushed into the wall, and he grimaced at the sight of the needle in her hand. He wouldn’t be asleep this time.

He still couldn’t really look at her though, he felt guilty, because the wound was proof that he had failed to protect her honour, even from himself.

“None of this is your fault Link.”

How did she know him so well? Perhaps she’d spent more time observing him that he’d thought. “I failed you Princess. Again. I let them take you. I-” His voice broke. He couldn’t actually voice the rest of his apology, the words scraped against his throat, foul and bitter as shame paralysed him.

She swallowed. “We could play the whose-fault-is-it game all day. Ultimately neither of us are to blame. I’m tired Link. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

He nodded his assent, and he let her fix the wound. She used small careful stitches which he could tell she did as quickly as she could, so that she didn't cause him excessive pain. And then she wrapped some of the material around his hands in a makeshift bandage. The pain was nothing though. Nothing compared to the dread he felt as to what would come next.

Because today was just day one. What would happen tomorrow?

She eventually finished, and then came to sit next to him. They split the water, and although he tried to make sure she got more than he did, she refused and they each got half equally.

“Hypothermia.” Is all she said afterwards, and he knew what she meant.

This time, though he felt her tears instead of her smile, and he felt completely and utterly useless. She didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. He understood, that perhaps right now they were in survival mode, and that is why she didn’t want to think about it too deeply because who knew what horrors awaited them tomorrow. But he worried for her, he always did, because he knew the scars this whole experience would have would be lasting.

That was a depressing line of thought and he was treading dangerous waters. He needed to think about how they were supposed to get out. He needed to make sure this didn’t happen again. He needed to actually protect her damn it. He leaned back. What could he really do, stuck as they were? What were the tips he'd been taught on how to handle an imprisonment? Perhaps the first thing to do was to try to figure out what the captors wanted. Usually that was pretty obvious, information or money but it wasn’t so clear cut here.

It just didn't make sense, and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the Yiga Clan wanted from this. The thing the researcher had said when stopping the Blademaster- something about it not working... was he talking about Zelda's sealing powers not awakening? He must have, seeing as the Blademaster more or less confirmed that when he taunted Zelda for being unable summon Hylia. And then when the researchers had come to let Zelda down, it seemed to be more of a... conclusion to their experiment. Link wasn’t a scientist, but he’d silently observed plenty of simulations that the Sheikah and Zelda had run on various parts of Ancient Technology. It was a process akin to what happened today- there was some sort of plan beforehand, then the “subject” - most often a Guardian - was prepared, and the planned programming was completed and then the results recorded.

But... Link couldn’t match that criteria with what had happened to Zelda. Just what were the researchers trying to get out of the whole thing? What was their initial plan- i.e why conduct, this-this experiment to torment Zelda to try to get the power to show itself? Surely that was counterintuitive to their overall aim? Because awakening her powers would mean the Darkness would be sealed and that was completely against what they wanted? Which brought him back to what, exactly, was their end goal? Had it changed? It didn’t seem so... And why had the Yiga changed their plan from assasination to... torture? For the life of him he couldn’t understand...

Chewing on his lip he decided it was worth a shot, to try to sift through the memories of lives he’d had but not lived himself, and… he even decided to try to look through the last Hero’s one. He sighed, he always felt uncomfortable with the memories. The thing was that they were like snapshots in time, and they were not… organised in any meaningful way. The whole thing was one big mess of emotion, because most of them were glimpses of things that his predecessors had felt strongly about, those were the ones that they unconsciously imprinted on the sword, and it carried those memories through for each wielder that followed. Maybe it thought there was a lesson to be learnt from each one, or maybe it just wanted a memento of each Hero. Who knew, the sword had a mind of its own.

So, whilst he knew he’d transformed into a wolf, he had no idea why or even how it had happened. The only time he'd get a semi-coherent sequence of events was during his dreams. Those often flowed a lot better than him trying to access the memory whilst conscious, which confused him but really, was anything about the Master Sword simple?

And that was why he’d found it so hard to understand just what was going on in the life of the Hero who was his direct comparator, the one who had succeeded the last time this had happened. The truth of the matter was, Link felt incredibly depressed, every time he thought of what happened 10,000 years ago.

For starters, the guy had it all. Link could only vaguely remember something glowing blue with a distinct sense that it was “Sheikah” so he assumed that was from the inside of one of those shrines, and it was accompanied by a feeling of “training programme”. And the rest of the memories pre-calamity were of… well. This was the part that used to disturb and plague him the most, because clearly, this Hero had a good working relationship with his Princess, and it was probably not just working. Okay it was definitely not just working, but Link refused to think further on that before, especially considering his own tenuous relationship with His Princess. The only other significant thing, alongside a bucketful of reminiscences with the Princess of that time, was some sort of glowing hand, which Link for the life of him couldn’t figure out but it seemed important. Oh, and also a crimson-coloured mist thing, but he wasn’t sure- because the whole thing seemed to be blurred around the edges. What was even more bizarre, was that there was barely any feeling of fear associated with the two things, it was weirdly relief more than anything else. And that frankly made him very frustrated. Relief at facing destiny? Just how prepared was this Hero? The whole thing left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, more so than the others because Link felt anything but prepared.

He sighed, the other thing with the memories were that he couldn’t just summon up what he wanted, and it would appear. It was more like he’d have to file his way through, and hopefully happen upon whatever it was he was searching for. And only now, after revisiting Mr Successful, did he actually remember that the Sheikah were still united back then, so there was no Yiga. They just didn't exist. Wonderful. Another reason why he hated to dwell on the seemingly illustrious journey that Hero had had.

He refocused. This wasn’t about that time. Why else would the Yiga have captured them, other than a sick sense of humour with the whole experiment? Was there any other purpose for this whole thing? His mind continued to wrack with the problem, and he watched as the moon moved across the sky.

Eventually, the Princess’s breathing evened out, as she fell asleep in his arms. At least she’d managed to sleep, he wasn’t sure she would, all things considered.

He sighed. The only other idea he had was that the whole thing was a farce, so they could exact revenge against the Royal Family for the humiliation they underwent all those eons ago and were banished. Clearly, they still used Ancient Sheikah Technology, the likes of which he’d never seen before. But still, surely the aim would be to kill them both to ensure Ganon’s revival would be unhindered? Not that he minded they hadn’t killed them yet; it was relieving to know they still had a chance, even if it was due to some sort of study.

He was distracted when she started to shiver, flinching inwards and he could only imagine what horrors she was seeing in her dreams. He grasped her tightly, running his fingers through her hair as he hummed her lullaby, hoping it would calm her, just as much as it did for him. Thankfully it worked, she settled back down, although now her knees were also pressed against his abdomen. He didn’t think it was a very comfortable position, but he didn’t want to disturb her, given she’d only just relaxed.

He, meanwhile, remained wide awake, tensed as bowstring. He would be ready next time.

[kahmelaspeaks]

To fuel your passion, break out of your comfort zone💌

At the right time, people dream about being in the right place. And that’s the luck thing—sometimes you have to stand in lots of different positions or in the same place lots of different times in order to be in the moment.

Luck, you know, doesn’t just happen. Most of the time not. Anyway, as it arrives, luck happens to individuals who go looking for it and who are prepared for it. You never know who someone you encounter will be the one who opens the door to your next chance or someone who hears about you.

Human beings can encounter many circumstances in this amazing land where life is expected. There are moments when you’ve been bumping into incidents that would make you resilient, leaving you wicked otherwise. It’s a blessing that each of us has the right to select or determine what direction we’re going to follow to be in a position that we’ve been dreaming of for a very long time: a life where change and serenity are moving forward and it’s for all intents and purposes for each of us to conquer in a fight that we’re scared to compete for.

Six years ago, I was unsure who I would become. I was stuck with identifying who I was, knowing who I wanted to be, and chasing who I was going to be? I always have unanswered questions before I have the confidence to look for the answers and be courageous enough to let go of the comfort zone that hinders me from the person I wanted to be.

But I know that I am confident of the dreams I want to reach for, amid all the uncertainties that I experience. I am aware of the road I want to cross, and it is to be proud of the career I have chosen to undertake successfully, to become someone I would be proud of, and to be someone who would save lives and change the world, even in the little stuff.

It is not always easy to find and explore yourself. It may sound like an excessively self-centered goal to discover yourself, but it is really an unselfish process at the core of everything we do in life. We must first know who we are, what we admire, and in effect, what we have to give to be the most important individual in the world around us, the best wife, parent, etc. This personal journey is one that any person would profit from taking. It’s a process involving tearing down shedding layers that do not serve us in our lives and do not show who we really are. Nevertheless, it still needs a massive act of building up-recognizing who we want to be, and passionately going to fulfill our special destiny-whatever it might be. It is a matter of knowing our personal strengths but being open to our perceptions and vulnerable to them. It’s not anything to dread or resist, but more something to watch out for with interest and kindness along the way.

And if it is toxic, you must recognize all your shortcomings, insecurities, and society’s judgment. To step on and become someone you deserve to be, you have to fight all those hurdles.

Serendipitous events unfold and lead you to awaken your innate wisdom as you take responsibility for your life. At this stage, you must be able to venture out of your comfort zone and experience life with zeal and fervor.

Life throws lemons at you—well at least that’s what you suspect from where you’re standing. Sick and tired of being in a rut, you might be. Emotionally drained and lacking direction, feeling uninspired. Don’t despair, as you may just experience an inner shift. You may experience periods of confusion from time to time, which seem on the surface as if the world is sinking. Although you can’t put your finger on it altogether, something isn’t quite right, at least you know that part. Life appears more difficult and requires more effort than usual. It’s all just a chore. When things do not go according to plan, you feel emotional confusion at the slightest episode.

Life is not always smooth sailing, rest assured. In that statement, seeking sanctuary releases us from having to push against the forces of life. Like any journey, a goal or a plan typically foreshadows the intention of reaching one’s destination, although you may not anticipate the rough waters ahead. That is, to reach your final destination, you might have to sail your boat in new waters. The journey of life is filled with innumerable lessons that many fail to acknowledge when embroiled in their drama.

Remember, the level of personal growth you undertake is paramount to your response to life. In ideal situations, most individuals thrive, although this does not test one’s character. Your reaction to life’s uncertainties decides your degree of inner development, especially when the tides are against you. In your journey to venture out of your comfort zone, I encourage you to follow a similar quality. Know, simple is not where the fruit of your accomplishment lies. Do not sit on your laurels because it is easy. You must be able to take chances, major or small, and step in the direction of your dreams steadily. Also, I advised you to dream big and act big, to earn higher rewards in life.

Stepping out of your comfort zone helps you to stretch your personal constraints to create a rewarding life. I want you to know the accomplished individuals to whom you look up who moved beyond their comfort zone to achieve their current degree of mastery. To produce a new way of living, they smashed down several glass ceilings and equally opened the way for others to follow. You act as a signpost for those to pursue by breaking ground in your search, which is the welcoming part of going beyond your comfort zone. Yet you do not want to make it a relentless search, as tempting as it may be to break into your comfort zone. It becomes paramount to incorporate your experiences into your life as it is characterized by your learning and inner development, which becomes the focal point of pushing beyond your comfort level.

The human equivalent of the fuel that powers your car is Passion. Passion drives a lifetime of visions in a related manner. It is an energy stream that is driven by purposeful action to live an inspired life. Passion is your idea for your life focused on your fundamental beliefs, qualities, ability, passions, and gifts in more precise words. You can overcome any obstacle with it, solve any issue, and circumnavigate the endless challenges life throws your way. People often succumb to anger, frustration, disappointment without it and are continually caught up in seemingly insurmountable issues.

From experience, passion is often born. It’s born out of the act of trying new things and expanding your horizons. In other words, it’s not something that suddenly finds you while you sit at home watching TV on your couch. Instead, you have to proactively pursue something by venturing outside your comfort zone to gain the necessary experiences to trigger that “aha” moment that can forever alter the course of your life.

[itsclydebitches]

(1/?) I'm curious as to your thoughts: was there a good way to write Ironwood as CRWBY intended him, 'fundamentally good person shows signs of instability and a worrying commitment to the idea that everyone should be willing to make a sacrifice as long as he is, takes this to unacceptable extremes when a great sacrifice is called for'? I've been reading all these posts that actually make it seem like a coherent character arc, and I don't consider myself a 'bootlicker' or someone who

Always happy to explain my thoughts! Though Ironwood’s situation is incredibly complicated and I’m tired as hell right now, so apologies if this attempt at working through things is more than a little messy… 

You’re right that Salem herself fundamentally changes the heart of the “well-meaning but ultimately misguided general” setup. Meaning, normally when we see a character like Ironwood, someone military-minded and driven by pragmatism, whoever it is they’re fighting against is us. It’s a war against other humans, or at least another intelligent (and sympathetic) form of life. Ironwood’s attempted archetype here relies heavily on the assumption that he’s taking things too far when there are better, more peaceful options open to him. No, general, don’t nuke all those people even though we’re at war with them because they’re still people. No, general, don’t blow up the alien ship even though you perceive them as a threat because they feel just like we do and I, the protagonist, believe that I can make peace with them. Though RWBY doesn’t have quite that same conflict—everyone agrees that Salem needs to go—it’s nevertheless worth acknowledging that his archetype is built on a history of unsympathetic characters… who are unsympathetic because they’re choosing to harm others for needless reasons. The hardened military general is an antagonist because he takes the violent route either due to greed or a lust for power. He makes sacrifices not because they are truly necessary, but because they’re easier or better for him. He believes that this violence/sacrifice is the only answer when the audience can clearly see another, better route. Think characters like Miles Quaritch from Avatar whose goal is, ultimately, to force a peaceful people out of their home/outright kill them in order to gain access to a natural resource on their world. Even if there is, broadly speaking, a “good” reason for doing this (humanity needs that resource to solve their energy crisis) there’s no confusion that his reasons are far from justified and that he’s taken things way too far. Not only because gaining resources is, you know, not a reason to kill people, but also because Jake Sully, our hero, provides him with alternative routes that he then rejects. These people are peaceful. We can negotiate with them… but Quaritch says no. 

So this is, broadly speaking, the archetype Ironwood and Team RWBY are thrust into. He’s the general supposedly taking things too far and they’re the heroes standing in his way. Problem is, RWBY’s enemy isn’t a sympathetic, potential victim. The grimm are literally mindless beasts and Salem is a classic Big Bad. She might have a tragic backstory now, but that hasn’t impacted how we read her as a threat. She isn’t another group of humans we should be making peace with. She’s not an alien race who we just have to extend a hand to. Defeating her—in a literal way—is thus far the only possible route and that undermines the archetype Rooster Teeth wants to chuck Ironwood into. He can’t be the cold-hearted military man choosing violence over peace when peace is simply not an option.

So we have a setup where every single one of Ironwood’s decisions is automatically both sane and justified because there is an immortal grimm queen trying to kill them. And she cannot be reasoned with. Extra security? No duh you want that. Suspicious of others? No shit Beacon fell precisely because it was infiltrated. Making sacrifices? What else is there to do except roll over and let Salem win? The options presented to him were “make sacrifice” or “everyone absolutely dies” so no, in this case the sacrifice is not deemed “unnecessary” and therefore something that we can criticize him for. Ironwood is not fighting a powerful but also potentially sympathetic enemy, inviting a perspective that his actions may be too severe in the face of that threat. Salem isn’t a Darth Vader who is going to turn back to the light when she sees her child. She isn’t a Sauron with a convenient Achille’s heel (as of yet anyway) thereby inviting an easy solution that doesn’t risk too many lives. The grimm are not the Klingons who, if you just take the time to know their culture, you can find common ground with. They and Salem are more akin to the Borg: a relentless, unreachable, immortal force that seeks only to destroy everything. She is RWBY’s devil and thus by default any question along the lines of, “But should Ironwood really have..?” is answered with an emphatic “Yes.” Because the only other option is total annihilation for the entire world, not just the one city you’re worried about. RWBY’s villain is such a massive, unarguable threat that the setup doesn’t allow debate in regards to what’s going “too far.” By having Team RWBY and Oscar parrot those views from other stories they just come off as sounding naive, foolish, and arrogant. Salem is not an enemy that you just need to try really hard to beat in battle. She is currently immortal. She is not someone you just need to talk down. She will annihilate you and laugh while doing it. “Unnecessary sacrifice” only exists in a world where you have a chance of taking another route with success. RWBY hasn’t provided that route yet. 

Thus, most military archetypes don’t have to face the level of threat that Ironwood does. In fact, their status as antagonists largely relies on the belief that the threat isn’t severe enough to warrant whatever horrific order they’re giving. Rooster Teeth has written a character based on tropes that do not work within the scenario they’ve set up… and a good chunk of the fandom aren’t critical enough viewers to see the disconnect. They just watch that collection of tropes and characteristics and fill in the blank based on what they know from the rest of popular culture. Like a really messed up Mad Lib. “Ah! I recognize this character! He’s a military man. He’s strict at times. He’s taking control of a situation and achieving that with an army. This is all a Bad Thing and I know that because I’ve seen it a thousand times before in a thousand different stories. The powerful military man is the antagonist and the heroes are the ones who fight for the marginalized!” And thus the viewer is encouraged to prioritize that assumed reading over the actual context of this particular story. Few are willing to admit that “Leaving marginalized people behind because otherwise we will all be slaughtered” is not the same situation as something like “Outright attacking a marginalized people because I want something from them. Or abandoning them because I just don’t care.” They see the basic, surface characteristics and think they know the answer to this story. Team RWBY = good and Ironwood = bad. 

That’s only the tip of the problem though. It’s a big problem, but literally every step of the way Rooster Teeth would need to change things if they actually wanted to give Ironwood this arc in a way that made any sense: 

They would need to change how they portray Mantle going all the way back to Volume 4 because we knew straight out of the Fall that Mantle has had a lot of problems for a very long time. That’s not all on Ironwood—it’s not possible for it all to be on Ironwood—and thus it’s neither correct nor fair to paint Mantle’s dystopian-like state as his doing, as we saw at the beginning of Volume 7. 

They would need to convince us that Ironwood is actually paranoid/being overly cautious, rather than what we actually have which is… completely logical safety measures against everything that has done them in up until now. Everything Ironwood implements is in direct response to something that killed people or felled a school. 

The story would need to give Ironwood better solutions that he then rejects. Obviously this is crucial for the leaving Mantle situation. As I’ve said numerous times before, you can’t paint Ironwood as a horrific person for following the only plan they had. “Stay to die” is not a plan. If they wanted him to read as in the wrong for leaving, Team RWBY needed to give him a good reason to stay, one that doesn’t automatically equal everyone dying, especially when Ironwood’s own solution is “save at least some.” However, this also needed to happen in regards to Amity. The fandom keeps pointing out that Ironwood took resources from Mantle, painting it as this cruel and awful thing… without acknowledging the necessity of that. Or that our heroes likewise demanded that he finish. Ruby is equally responsible for taking those resources. Again, if they want to paint Ironwood as unhinged and cruel in his decision, they need to provide him with alternatives: “Hey, general! Why don’t we just use these other resources instead?” “No. They must come from Mantle.” or “Hey, general! We’re just going to let you know that finishing Amity is fundamentally useless because you can’t defeat Salem with a giant army. Maybe stop taking resources now.” “No. I don’t believe you. I’m going to forge ahead with my own plans, ignoring this new information.” Neither of these things happened. We weren’t told that there was another way to build Amity and Ironwood wasn’t told that his plan was flawed… making his decision both necessary and justified, given what he knew. To my mind, Team RWBY is far more responsible for Mantle’s state since they encouraged that drain on the resources while knowing the use of those resources wouldn’t achieve what Ironwood assumed it would. Which, while failing to paint them as heroic, likewise undermines Ironwood’s supposed villainy. Why do we hate him for this again…. when Ruby is doing the exact same thing…? 

They would need to have established, all the way back in Volume 2 and onward, a personality that allows for him to go to certain extremes, such as shooting Oscar. I don’t have the energy to dive into this one in great detail right now, but suffice to say the fandom has decided to horrendously miss-characterize Ironwood in an effort to justify an illogical action based on what we know about him. I’ve seen the “He once said he would shoot Qrow!” so often I’m literally astounded by the reach there, but I’m also seeing a lot of “Ironwood has never shown any sympathy towards children!” Which… okay. The absence of interaction is not proof of hatred. Meaning, having watched seven volumes in which Ironwood doesn’t interact with kids only tells us we don’t know how he feels about kids, not that he obviously despises them. A lack of scenes wherein Ironwood expresses his adoration for everyone under the age of twenty is not evidence for dislike, nor more than making a claim like, “Well Ruby obviously hates pears” would be. Why would she hate pears? Because we’ve never once, ever, heard her say that she likes them. She’s never spoken positively about them. Never stood up for them! So clearly they’re her least favorite food. Sound ridiculous? Same situation here. To say nothing of the fact that we do see Ironwood interacting positively with kids, if we define “kids” as “characters significantly younger than him.” We watched him desperately protect large groups of students at Beacon. Stand up for Weiss at the party despite how much that threatened his political situation with Jacques (as seen in Volume 7). Send Yang an expensive new arm purely because he knows what it’s like to lose a limb. The narrative has gone out of its way to demonstrate how kind and compassionate Ironwood is, all of which would need to be changed—if not outright erased—to give us someone capable of shooting Oscar like that. 

The fact that the fandom chooses to ignore characterization doesn’t mean it’s not there and that characterization, at its core, fundamentally hinders the “military man goes off the deep end” archetype. Because Ironwood is nothing like his parallels in popular culture. His situation is not one that he can resolve peacefully. He was not given better options that he then rejected. He has never been a cold, manipulative, cruel person. Honestly, if they wanted to write this arc then they needed someone other than James Ironwood living in the world of RWBY. We’d need a different kind of war and a different character introduced all those volumes ago. Because as it is, the story Rooster Teeth wanted to tell simply isn’t a story fit for the Ironwood and the Remnant they created. 

[seamstress-girl]

Dazzling.

The night was filled with the sound of the higurashi, the otherwise silent night bringing sleep to Megumi as if it was only natural. Even though she had been asleep for a full two days, after the long morning of hiding away and taking things from one location to the next, she had quickly become tired. Despite her energy being drained, she insisted on helping, since both of them were injured and emotionally exhausted; he wasn’t shocked once she collapsed inside of the train. Steam locomotives were a rare sight, so he was sure Ryo wouldn’t think they went for one of those—especially one so full of people, with both of them hiding with the baggage. But if he did, somehow, learn that they came on this train… it would be easy to track them when they left. Even then, it was better than trying to find a car, walking or testing his luck with other types of public transportation.

At least in that train, they had enough space to rest while lurking in the shadows. If he was by himself, he was sure he could get anywhere easily, even without an arm. But with someone else, especially someone who hadn’t been trained like him…

Yet his mind would never fully focus on that matter. He would unconsciously steal gazes to his side, where she slept peacefully on a blanked he stole from the mansion. She was curled up in a ball, holding onto a pillow with her arms despite her heavy injuries, hair neatly arranged so that it wouldn’t bother her sleep. Even though they were supposed to sleep in turns, he didn’t feel the need to wake her up.

…she trusted him. If this had been a ploy, and he had still been on the enemy’s side, he could have taken her to the organization while she was sleeping. He couldn’t help but feel exasperated at that blind trust, though he couldn’t blame her for being so different from himself.

Why… did he protect her? Instead of helping Ryo drag her out discreetly, why did he sever his ties with those who raised him and were raised with him? Megumi was far from the same as him. For some time, he tried to rationalize his growing familiarity with her by the circumstances of their lives; both had been born in the slums, both did what they could to survive back then (though she lived a honest life, and he did not), both has committed murder at least once, both understood how it was to… lose those they care for. But they couldn’t be more different on how they handled those circumstance, and the way they viewed the world was fundamentally incompatible. So they weren’t the same. She wasn’t even a member of the organization, so she wasn’t one of them.

So why did he do that? Why did he sacrifice an arm for this woman, this seamstress infatuated with someone else, someone he had spent so little time with?

“——!”

He flinched, only calming down he realized what it was.

Megumi held onto his pants with a hand, gingerly, still deep into the realm of sleep. She rubbed her cheek affectionately on her pillow, while holding the second one closer to her chest. Her expression was peaceful, and the faintest smile could be seen there.

Megumi was… dazzling. She was like the sun, illuminating the world and giving it warmth. When she argued with him over trivial things, it would always end up with smiles and some sort of fun activity. When he touched on topics that she would rather not talk about, she’d put on a brave face and explain to him with kindness, trying to pretend she wasn’t affected. She was brave to a fault, and stood up against Ryo even when he wasn’t there to protect her. He’d heard many stories of her running straight into danger if it meant helping others, and that her kindness was how she acted towards everyone.

His hand had wandered close to her face, to brush away a strand of hair that was falling on her face. He stopped, staring at that hand.

Why was he so drawn to that girl?

Take me away from here.

…Rei looked away from her, pulling his hand back to the floor, where he kept it forcefully. That smile of hers, the way she trusted him to be with her, the way she helped and treated him like he was a normal person, and not the zero in a roulette… it was all a first. Was that why? Or was there something else to this painful, intoxicating feeling?

He wasn’t sure. But Megumi, regardless of how he labeled that emotion, was what made his resolve harden.

He had to protect her and that kindness she showed him.

[okimargarvez]

REVERSE - 19

Original title: Reverse.

Prompt: Penelope is the new girl on the BAU team and Luke tries to treat her cold.

Warning: A.U., possible OOC.

Genre: drama, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Derek Morgan, O.C. Sam Cooper’ team, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 62 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘👓🔦🐶❗🎲🎈👻🎬🎵.

Song mentioned: Amici per errore, Tiziano Ferro.

Reverse- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

19 # Friends elsewhere, friends by mistake...

Since a while, his life has become an endless series of I shouldn't have. The last bullshit, to be added to the bottom of an endless list, was to accompany JJ to prison. He stayed out, but her expression told him everything he needed to know. She is one of his best friends, of course, not like Chrissie... but she has always been a separate matter. However, he cares a lot about her and cannot bear to see her so destroyed. Like there is nothing they might do to change things. They remained embraced in that shabby courtyard for at least five minutes, amid the astonished looks of the prison guards. And it was as if through that grasp he had absorbed his friend's pain. And not only that. Backing to the base, he ran to the bathroom, where he is still, spewing even his soul. He has cleaned up any trace, but his face is too pale for his usually darker complexion. Hair is wet, pulled back. He made no effort to settle down. He doesn’t expect visits, not there, then. Not she, over all.

Already the ticking of the heels should be a good clue, but his brain today has decided not to work and his intuition too. -Luke, are you okay?- Garcia is standing in front of him, in her white dress with lipsticks and mascara (not low-cut), her flower and pink shrug. Her lost expression.

She had just left the toilets when she heard noises from the corridor, noises that she identified with someone in pain. It wasn't any of her, business but then she had that totally irrational feeling and she understood, she sensed that it was Luke. For this she entered without announcing herself, not even considering the possibility that it was someone else or that he was not alone. -You are in the men's room.- he points out the obvious. But she is trying to recover from that unprecedented and so intimate vision. She has already seen him sad, embittered and above all angry, for example when they returned with Reid handcuffed or during the bail process. She never liked this, though. Those black shadows that she had only caught in passing inside his eyes are now dancing freely. He seems to be sick both physically and emotionally. He is completely down. She forces herself to answer him, rejecting the need to hug him.

She stays where she is, on the threshold, without approaching. -I know, you think they'll arrest me for this?- the joke has no effect, not even a half grimace, absolutely nothing. She swallows, but now she is alone in this mess and can no longer look the other way... if she ever succeeds. -Hey, what happened?- she asks, in a sweet, sad, low, sugary, comforting tone. All in one package. Luke turns away from her, staring at the sink. She ventures to look at him. She doesn’t know that her words were like medicine on his wounds. After an endless pause, realizing that he won't get rid of her so easily, he faces her again.

He shakes his head. -Nothing, absolutely nothing.- his eyes are dull, vague, even if Garcia senses that he hasn't cried. Which is already something, but too little. She doesn’t think that he is one who often allows himself to cry. -Go ahead with your life.- he claims. His tone is nuanced, so empty. He doesn't really try to drive her away.

She understands that he needs a shock, to recover, or at least to break trough it. Away the sweetness, then. Hard way are needed, as with one of her adoptive brothers, who loves to bask in self-pity and watch others solve his problems. -Now don't start talking like a woman, Alvez.- here, a little twinkle in his pupils. -You know perfectly well I won't go away.- she says, showing more convinced than she really is. The time has come to take advantage of the skills learned thanks to the theater course recommended at the group's meetings on the creative elaboration of mourning. -Now you understand how stubborn I can be.- she adds, crossing her arms. Luke sighs and she realizes that he has given up. He runs a hand over his face.

He speaks without looking at her. -At least let's get out of here.- his voice sounds so fragile that only by a miracle Garcia doesn’t hold him against her breast, like a mother with her baby. And he's damn sexy in this moment too. They walk along the corridor at a certain distance, until they reach one of the balconies that face outwards. Even that time of the joke about Roxy, he had chosen the outdoors. Perhaps he finds comfort in the caress of the wind. Or maybe when something like this happens, he becomes claustrophobic.

She gives him plenty of time to open up, but he doesn't get the message. He clings to the balustrade and looks down. -Therefore?- she captures his gaze for two seconds. She approaches. -I am aware that you would prefer to speak to anyone outside of me.- she suddenly feels selfish, wanting to be the savior at all costs. She sighs. -You want that I call someone? Rossi, JJ, Emily, Tara, Walker?- with the last surname she doesn’t tear a chuckle from him by a hair. Without knowing it, she almost followed a precise hierarchical order. She doesn't say the right name, of course. She can't be there. He reads in her face the awareness of not being that person.

But Luke surprises her doubly. -No. Please.- his is almost a moan. She clears the distance by a few more centimeters. He too. It's the only way he has, in this moment, in this state, to make her understand that he doesn't really want her to leave. He needs her, her words, her understanding. Even if he could never admit it verbally, even if he hadn't that lump in his throat.

Garcia, never been a profiler, has guessed the right explanation at first sight. -Is it about Reid's matter?- man doesn’t move. -I haven't received any new messages.- she then adds, not knowing how to proceed. He sighs, realizing that she is much closer than he thought. He scratches his head.

-Yeah.- he says. It’s still a result. -You know he can get visitors now.- a nod of assent; of course, it was she who had made a chart to establish the order of the visits and had placed herself at the bottom, even after Walker (moving him to tears). -JJ went to see how he was. I accompanied her.- it should be enough, but now that he has removed the cap, everything flows towards the drain. -They hit him. He is hurt.- he looks away suddenly, unable to bear the eyes of the woman, who foreshadows the worst.

-Oh God.- she covers her mouth with her hands. -Is it so bad? He's not going to die...- an absurd smile appears on Luke's lips. She doesn't even think for a thousandth of a second that it's for happiness or relief.

He nods. -Yes, he's serious, but I don't know how to answer the other question.- she sees him tremble. She puts her hand close to take his, but then she doesn't. -Prisons are a microcosm in its own right, as he would say.- a sob escapes him. It is almost the coup de grace. Because he can't really imagine him in that context. His mega brain is useless in that place; in fact, it could even be a problem.

He watches her move her fingers on the railing. -But he did not even find a friend?- she asks him, keeping her tone soft, so as not to increase, if she can't decrease, his level of anxiety and stress. Luke's look climbs along the curves of her body until he stops in the eyes.

-Two, according to JJ.- he tries to remember the names she said to him. -One is called Delgado and the other... Shaw, I think.- Garcia lights up like a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. She would definitely play the shooty star in the crib.

-Shaw?- she repeats that surname, which had no particular meaning for him. -It won't be Calvin Shaw?- he nods, recognizing the name, hearing the voice of the other blonde in his head. He frowns forehead and eyebrows.

-Why, do you know him?- he can't understand what someone like Garcia has to do with a human trash (of the worst kind) like that guy. He didn't know him, but he read his file, furtively, taking advantage of the fact that JJ was driving. It is partly the cause of his nausea. The idea that Reid was bonding with him...

Garcia shakes her head, a cascade of blond curls. -I don’t, but Morgan...- she doesn’t need to specify who she is talking about. If he knows, better for him, otherwise, it is not fundamental information . -I think he took care of his case. If I remember correctly, it was one of us.- Luke nods. -He killed his Russian contact.- he doesn’t hold back, doesn’t choose to add that detail, but his mouth opens and the words come out on their own.

-Yes, and probably his own baby.- she opens her eyes and looks at him in shock. Now she has all the elements to understand why he is so angry, even if he never thought of wanting to become a father, start a family, carry on the name of the Alvez, with discontent of his entire family, especially of his beloved grandmother.

She swallows, he can hear her sucking the air and holding her breath. -God, was she pregnant?- he breaks eye contact. Absurdly he sees Chrissie with her baby bump, her husband Richard with the baby in his arms, when they announced that he would be the godfather, if he wanted to.

He pushes the image away with difficulty, closing his eyelids. -Considering HCG levels, it would seem so.- he is not prepared for her reaction. Garcia punches the balustrade, probably risking to get hurt, at least to break a fingernail.

-What a bastard!- she exclaims. It is the first time he has heard her say a dirty word. -I'll call Derek and ask him to have a chat with this… man.- she reassures him, but her gaze is bad, another novelty. Can she really hate people? Maybe then she's human. -He is the best in this kind of thing.- she says, full of pride for her best friend.

He can just say one word. -Well.- there is no problem, she speaks enough for both. She comes closer an inch, without noticing, or maybe it's him. He has no certainty, nothing in any area.

-And hopefully in the meantime Emily and Fiona will be able to move the bureaucratic waters.- he nods, feeling a flame developing in his chest. He cannot remain indifferent to her way of expressing herself. But then he hears a familiar sound that catches her gaze going towards the bag, towards the cell phone.

-There is a case, there isn’t it?- a flicker of provocation. Garcia willingly takes the blame (actually not hers) for interrupting his opening moment.

But then she reaches out and finally squeezes his hand, hard. -Luke, trust me.- her gaze is equally intense. -We can save Reid.- it sounds like a promise.

But he can't risk evreything. How would he come out in the event of a defeat? He lets go of her hand and shakes his head. -I wish I could believe you.-

-

TAGS: @martinab26  @thinitta  @shyladystudentfan  @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk  @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter @symphonyashley  @kofforever @myhollyhanna23 @tootsienoodles  @centiaaa  @penelopesluke @dumbdraws @onefail-at-atime @reidskitty13@adorarapril @princesstreaclefanfic @glocknade111-blog @magiunific @fallen-novak @dreatine @hopelessdayydreamer @painterofhorizons @racing-against-the-sunset @majo0803 @vickyd-2012  @writing-whats-that @wearejuststars@klngzeewp @heylittlehollywood @kirstenvangsness @blu3crush@futureperfectmedia-blog   @jade-cheshire3303   @life-between-pages @tooshorttobeanadult @xxlonelyghostxx @honeydoodles @pennypeabody @alessiapolimeni @londonrosebooklovingwitch @bbyxk @full-on-fangirl @catlynhoss05 @lushmp3

[nemrut]

Tearmoon Empire

I wanted tot talk more about fanfiction but there isn’t really a fanfic I am following atm that I am actually super exited about and it would feel a bit lazy to pick up an old one, so gonna talk about something else.

Last few months, I have read a lot of manga and a few LNs in the vain of transmigrated/reborn/reincarnated as a villainess and one part of the subculture is the villainess or MC being executed in their main life after being outmaneuvered or used by her loved ones and she then wakes up in her younger body. Tearmoon Empire written by Nozomu Mochitsuki and illustrated by Gilse is a more humorous take on that formula.

The summary on Amazon is as follows:

Surrounded by the hate-filled gazes of her people, the selfish princess of the fallen Tearmoon Empire, Mia, takes one last look at the bleeding sun before the guillotine blade falls... Only to wake back up as a twelve-year-old! With time rewound and a second chance at life dropped into her lap, she sets out to right the countless wrongs that plague the ailing Empire. Corrupt governance? Check. Border troubles? Check. Natural calamities and economic strife? Check. My, seems like a lot of work. Hard work and Mia don’t mix, so she seeks out the aid of others, starting with her loyal maid, Anne, and the brilliant minister, Ludwig. Together, they strive day and night to restore the Empire. Little by little, their tireless efforts begin to change the course of history, pushing the whole of the continent toward a new future. And why did the selfish princess have a change of heart, you ask? Simple—she didn’t. She’s just terrified of the guillotine. They hurt like hell, and Mia hates pain more than work. Lazy, selfish, and a complete coward, the ill-equipped princess of the Tearmoon Empire, armed with memories of her past life and a diary from the future, tries to avoid dying at the guillotine again and changes the very course of history in the process! 

Premise is very clear. Cowardly, petty and self absorbed princess died during her first life because of those attributes as the revolution of the small-folk caught her and because her traits made almost everyone dislike her, the few people who wanted to save her couldn’t. Now on her second life, she has some foreknowledge as she, by now, knows the general gist as to what went wrong, what led to all the suffering which kick-started the revolution. Understandably, she does not want another revolution to happen, or at the very least, if it does happen, she hopes no one will be particularly angry with her or that she will have enough goodwill to be able to escape.

So her every action, her every good deed, her ever interaction with people is fundamentally fueled by her desire to not be executed and trying her hardest to seem selfless and nice or at the very least not cruel or selfish.

And it works, it works so well that everyone thinks she is a wise saint who has appeared to save mankind,w ho is literally too pure, too good for this world. She makes some vague suggestion as to what could possibly go wrong,more capable people run with it and make it happen but because she was the catalyst, she gets the credit and praise.

It really, really works. The manga version is neat but the LN version especially shines with the way the narrator always makes sure to note how actually selfish Tia is. Tia does something nice or kind, the characters around her praise her for it and the narrator then goes on to state how very not wise and kind Tia actually is.

The story and characters are funny and likeable. It helps that Tia was never a muahahaha I love to be cruel kind of person. She was never evil. She was just spoiled and selfish, living an extremely privileged and self-absorbed life. It wasn‘t her fault that the country went down the drain, she just didn‘t care about anything but her own comfort and was the typical spoiled noble-lady to her servants and those she saw as beneath her class-wise. That meant that no one was inclined to be charitable towards her and saw her as part of the problem.

It is a very charming story, and really, really fun. Tia is a delightful protagonist because despite her still very selfish if understandable motivation, she is still doing good and right things in the world. She makes the world better, even if that desire comes from the fear of being executed otherwise and not because she particularly cares about other people. She does like others though, like her maid who was the only person who was kind to her during her imprisonment in her first life and Tia tries her best to repay her in this life for her loyalty and kindness which of course makes the maid love her even more. A few instances, Tia does good because she knows Anna (the maid) sees her as this avatar of justice and Anna expects her to step in and help and Tia is forced because she doesn’t want to lose Anna’s loyalty.

So yeah, give it a try if that sounds appealing. Manga has only 9 chapters though and only two volumes of the LN are translated/out.

[headoverhiddles]

Hide Your Hand - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You can throw your rock and hide your hand, working in the dark against your fellow man. As sure as god made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to the light. 

Notes: Started this when the God's Gonna Cut You Down video came out, and it's been a while, but I rewatched it and finished this! The ending is kinda up for interpretation. Also, this is kinda based on the idea that this video is a sequel of sorts to Man That You Fear. Enjoy! 

Tagging: @blueinkblot​ @antichristsuperslut​ @skin-slave​ @peachynun​ @plagued-rat​ @livelifewondering​ @elrosew​

His eyes open.

The lids crack with falling dust as he attempts to move his head, but notices white plastic in his peripherals. Confirming his suspicions, he finds his limbs packed too tight to move as well. Flexing the muscles in his shoulders and making fists, he begins to rock, the necessary evil of desert dirt filling his mouth as he cracks his confines. Tattooed fingers break ground, and blunt fingernails pick their way out of the makedo grave.

Thankfully the coward who buried him didn't do a very good job. Then again, not many people expect a dead man to emerge from the dirt, especially when they can't see past the ends of their noses. A reanimated corpse would have given whatever bastard who did this a heart attack; then he'd be the one holding the shovel.

Shaking the dry dirt from his black hair, he tries to remember why he was buried in the first place. It's as if he's half brain dead-- or half his brain hasn't been awakened yet. Every time he tries to think of his past, it's as if a mental dam would go up, blocking him access. But it isn't mechanical-- no, he is the opposite of mechanical. He is biodegradable, or he should have been. The only undeniable clarity in his mind is one single fact: he should be dead, and he should've stayed dead.

Seeing as it isn't really an option to get back in the hole and cover himself up again, he starts walking. He has hopes that this was some kind of underworldly mirage in a sea of punishment, that he'd wake up and see some nightmare only he would be capable of dreaming up. But thus far, the devil wasn't popping up to laugh in his face, so he supposed he could stop being so cynical.

Once bitten, twice shy.

Why the fuck is that? Who had done the proverbial biting? What had happened, and how had he awakened? He lets out a long sigh, the air in his lungs brittle and unnatural. What he does remember of his life before, is there was an element of relief found in simple country indulgence. Whoever he is, he recalls the taste of whiskey sour and the satisfying singe of burning herb on his tongue, filling his mouth, filling his dry lungs.

He has to find a bar.

 -

You feel like the ice box in front of the motel you passed on the highway: melting slowly in the desert heat.

A single coin, older than three of your lifetimes, tumbles down your fingers like a staircase, swiped up into your palm and placed again at the top. The pure silver glints under the bar lights, and your drink is placed in front of you.

"On the house," the bearded man, who was as close to a modern day cowboy as he could get, smiles at you. You tip your wide brimmed hat. Nobody questioned why you were wearing a hat and dark glasses inside, or why you had taken the very end of the bar, farthest away from everyone. Southwestern places like this get people from all walks of life passing through, and people, in general, were all just as fundamentally odd as they pretend not to be.

Finally placing the coin heads up on the cracked wooden table, you swirl your drink and observe.

Something had drawn you to this town. Last time you had contacted the other world, they had directed you here, and though you hadn't studied the occult for long, you understood that that many signs, from the living world or otherwise, meant something catastrophic had just happened out here in the desert. You'd wait it out, and see if whatever it was would come to you first. You can already feel it, whatever it is-- you can feel the energy, and it makes you shiver. Fermented hatred, violent impulse, and bitter restlessness buzz beneath your skin, and you're dying to figure out where-- or who-- this bad mix of hoodoo is coming from.

-

A white pickup truck, damaged by some kind of weather, sits abandoned on the side of the road. He looks around, and as he suspected, there isn't another soul as far as the eye can see. That, by his standards, makes this his pickup truck.

As if a gift from god, the keys are still in the ignition, and he doesn't have time to worry about the two bloody bullet holes in the seat. He drives out of there in a cloud of dust, hoping for civilization.

Civilization, and people.

He suddenly swerves violently, eyes snapping shut.

He had a wife. She looked somewhat like him, only more feminine. Her name was Marilyn.

He wore a hat. He had long hair back then, hair that would get tugged in moments of passion and brushed in moments of vulnerability. Soft hands interrupted rivulets of warm water cascading down his back as he sat under a showerhead and let tears fall.

He lived in a small community. A cult created out of fear. A pointing finger, blindfolded shot caller.

He had been a scapegoat.

Bare chest, open palms, and a deep, aching pain, repetitive, blood running down into his eyes, until...

Those eyes snap open, and he swerves back onto the road. Narrowly missing a white painted cross, he looks back to see a graveyard.

"Marilyn," he says to himself. His voice sounds like paper ripping, and he coughs, growling a little until his throat begins to feel normal again. He still doesn't remember what they called him, or who he properly was... his wife wouldn't be needing her name anymore, since she must be long dead; he decided it suited him.

 -

The sun is just going down over the Mojave hills as you finger the black crystals dangling between your breasts. Whatever it is, it's taking its time.

Licking a small sheet of rolling paper, you fill it with some of your own homegrown bud, and strike a match off your boot.

"You waiting for someone?" the bearded cowboy asks you, and you recognize the charming glint in his eye as someone who's barking up the wrong tree.

"I don't know yet," you reply honestly, and leave it at that. The man presses.

"What do you mean? You've been sitting here all day." He leans in. "My name's Shooter. What's yours?"

"Call me Clint Eastwood, cause I'm the Woman With No Name," you answer drily.

"Hey now..." Shooter leans in, "It would just break my heart if a pretty little lady like you got stood up... left lonely for the night."

You meet his gaze. "I'm far from lonely. And the night is far from over."

Just then, a breeze blows the door open, and someone walks in. It's a man in a white wife beater and a plaid button up over it, jet black hair covered in dust and dirt. His eyes are dark, just like the rest of his aura, and you're drawn to him. This is him. This is the feeling.

He sits next to you at the bar, but doesn't look over immediately. First, he checks the place out... then his eyes land on you.

"Thirsty?" he asks. You nod, smiling.

The twitch of his lips carve a mysterious half smile in his face as he lifts his fingers to catch the bartender's attention. Not like he hadn't already.

A drink is placed in front of you, not on the house as it was when you were "lonely and pretty". The man takes his own glass of dark amber liquid. Nursing his own poison and seeming to revel in it, he lifts it to his lips. You notice the alchemical symbols tattooed onto his fingers. 

"Marilyn," he glances up, catching a newspaper clipping of the old Tate murders glued to the wall, "-Manson."

"Manson," you nod, "I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Pretty name." You wait for the "for a pretty girl", but that part never comes. You tilt your head, intrigued.

"Where are you from?"

He gives a mirthless chuckle, voice still caked with dust and the unfortunate secret that he had just freed himself from his own grave. "I have no goddamn idea where I'm from."

Now you're very interested. “You have amnesia or something?”

He considers this. “Maybe. I just woke up this morning in a body bag out in the middle of devil’s asshole, Nevada.”

“Sounds like someone tried to kill you,” you say softly, heartbeat picking up. He drains his glass, pushing it forward for another.

“Mhm. The strange part is, it feels like they succeeded.” The crystals hanging around your neck begin to warm against your chest, and you look down. He spots your dwindling joint in the nearby ashtray, and sees that half of it is ash now. “If you’re not gonna finish that, hun,” he nods to it. You gesture to it for him to take. He does, studies you, and puts it to his lips. His eyes squint through the haze, and his mouth opens in an ‘o’ to free the smoke. You feel a different sort of warmth fill you.

“You live here?” he asks.

“No.”

“Why you here?”

“I felt like I should be.”

He looks around slowly. “Sure. This is really the place to be, huh?” A fly lands on your glass, and a bearded guy burps over by the cobwebbed jukebox. You look down, smiling.

“I have my reasons.”

He watches how your lips graze the mouth of the glass, leaving a faint red imprint. He feels something rouse inside of him. Now that drinking’s out of the way, he’s suddenly reminded of another need. But he's not certain how everything's working just yet... best to make sure. Shooter fills up Manson's glass again, turned away but intent on eavesdropping.

Manson lifts it to his lips, drinking the Tennessee Whiskey down like it's water from a mirage. Finally, he decides he can trust you.

"I have something inside of me," he murmurs. You rest your elbow on the bar.

"Like what?"

"A sort of intuition. There's somebody I need to kill. Lots of people." 

"I hope you don't mean everyone in this bar," you joke.

He smiles, looking down. "Wouldn't kill you. And that guy over there by the jukebox looks like he's on a mission from God to drink the most whiskey any man's ever drunk, and I'm not about to stop him on his righteous path."

You laugh. "I think you're well on your way to getting there first."

He looks back down to his now emptied glass. "That's another thing. I can't even feel the effects." He cocks his head. "Fuckin' awful. That was the best part about living."

"Was?" you ask in amusement.

"I'm telling you. I can't be alive. Something brought me back, and it's not for good."

"That's it," Shooter says, loading a rifle from behind the bar and pointing it at Manson. "You two take your devilspeak and you get the hell outta here before I blow you away." Manson lifts his eyes to Shooter, taking in the man's much smaller form. He stands, and it all happens in a blur. You snatch the rifle in what can only be described as symbiotic intuition on both your parts, and Manson rushes Shooter, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him over the bar.

"M-Mister I'm--" the bartender begins to say, but Manson impales him with a sickening crack on the deer antlers hanging on the wall below the Budweiser sign.

You pass Manson the rifle, watching the drunk in the corner try and decipher what just happened. He's no threat. Manson slings the rifle over his shoulder, and grabs the bottle from the other side of the bar, drinking from it. He passes it to you, where you’re standing, leaning with your back against the bar. You take the bottle, swirling your tongue around the top, before drinking. You watch the body drip blood from where it’s hanging. He watches you.

 As he stares at your lips, the need building inside of him is almost undeterrable. He remembers what it was like before, to be deep inside a woman, to get everything he can take from a willing, welcoming girl.

"What makes you tick?" he murmurs.

You exhale. "I'm certain you could find out."

He drives toward the address of the motel you had given him, shotgun in the backseat for safe keeping, and parks the truck in the front. You unlock the door, ignoring the strange look from the motel owner, and let Manson in. He sits down on the edge of the bed, and you take your jacket off. Sensing how he reacts to that, you pause, and begin to unbutton your shirt. You turn to him, and take the rest of your top off. 

Manson stares, watching every movement closely. You take off your shorts slowly, and your panties with it. Soon, you're fully naked, and his breathing has increased. He's aroused even more when you walk toward and get in his lap on the edge of the bed, breasts pressed against his chest. 

He brings his hands up to feel your back, and smooths them all the way down to your ass. You straddle him, helping him take his shirt off. You trace his mosaic of tattoos with your fingertips, and cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his. They're dry, cracked, but you don't care, and neither does he. He kisses back, and a surge of violent desire prompts him to pick you up, clearing everything off the table and sitting you there. You help him work at his pants, and he finally gets them down just enough to lay you on your back on the table and push into you.

You groan, reaching down to help yourself along. He takes a black rosary hanging from the TV set, and ties your hands together with it, keeping them above your head. You whine as he fucks into you, moans increasing as he touches your clit. He uses one hand to massage your breasts, giving attention to both, and his hips stutter. 

"It's... okay," you breathe out, "You can..."

He grunts, but refuses to cum before you, no matter how long it's been. He picks you up and moves you to the bed, lying you on your back. Your hands fist the sheets as his lips move down your body, pressing kisses down your chest, between your breasts, to your stomach, sucking hickies down your inner thighs, licking down your legs to your feet. Then he finally kisses back up to your pussy, watching the wetness leak to the mattress.

"I want to hear you," he rasps, and you sigh, appreciative noises building as he darts his tongue out to make small circles around your clit.

"Oh," you whisper, "Oh yeah."

"Louder," he growls, licking faster.

"Please, please!" you whine, "Right there!"

You cry out loudly as he brings you to the edge of your peak, but he disappears from between your legs before you can cum. Disoriented, you wiggle your hips, but look up to find him standing at the foot of the bed. He tugs you by your ankles down to where he is, and lifts you up. You arch your back in relief as he slides his cock back into you, like it’s your lifeline. That's all it takes for you to come undone, crying out his name as you cum on his cock. 

"Baby, baby... so good," he grumbles, drawing out almost all the way and slamming back in deep. He keeps up his bruising, thorough pace until he too becomes erratic, leaning his head back and groaning your name. You feel him finish inside you, and sigh contentedly, spreading your arms out. 

He drops your legs, and you crawl back up to the pillows. He lays down on the other side of the single bed, letting you cuddle into his space. Your head rests on Manson’s chest, as you close your eyes and search for the stranger’s heartbeat. 

You're awakened from your dreamlike state as you notice he doesn't have one.

--

It's 3 am. Hours have gone by, and he can't sleep.

He realizes, hands behind his head, that nobody who killed him is still around. They all must have died years ago, that he would be chasing ghosts. That's just what he was... a ghost. Or a demon. Maybe he was the devil himself. Sooner or later, he knew that the darkness would return. It came for them, it would come for him. 

He turns to look down at your sleeping, naked form, and strokes you. You look like an angel, sleeping on a halo of the hair spread out over his chest. He defiled you last night, spread his darkness over you. 

Maybe he wasn't a scapegoat after all. Maybe he deserved everything he got. Maybe he wasn't an avenging angel. Maybe he was chaos on earth, brought back for a short time. But his feelings, his human urges were so real when he felt them raging through him. He felt like he needed to kill everyone who wronged him, but he didn’t know how to find them. So many unanswered questions, and the sun would rise on them all in a few hours.

The dim TV with the rosary draped over it glitches, and turns from snowy static to a black fuzz.

-

You wake up in the morning, and find that the spot next to you is empty. You expected that-- the man was on a mission, but it was a nice detour. Still, you get up, and look out the motel window. 

That's strange. His car is still there. You start to search the bed for your panties, but stop. There's a strange dust left in his side of the bed, and a note on the bedside table. 

You can run on for a long time, but sooner or later God'll cut you down.

- The Stranger