#means that both are made of language at their most elemental level

[magspag]

kind of feel like the line between the angels and AI isn't that distinct, since breaking the rules and being changed forever are still tied together in each situation

been thinking about fantasy/scifi rule systems and free will

[luckyroll3]

Thank You, Daddy Chapter 9

Masterlist and Summary

Previous Chapter

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, sex work, power dynamics, daddy kink, possessive behavior, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 10,097

A/N: We've finally made it to the end my friends! Enjoy. [I've been trying to post this for the past 3 hours, but kept getting pulled into meetings. As if they don't know I have important schedules to keep! 😂]

You push through the door of your penthouse, yoga mat tucked under one arm, too much sweat cooling uncomfortably against your skin after an hour at hot power yoga. The air conditioning hits you like a reprieve, and you're already mentally mapping the path to your shower when you see him, Christopher, perched on your pristine white couch like he owns it, like he owns you. His eyes track your movement, dark and intent, a predator watching prey. The mat slips from your grip, thumping softly against the marble floor.

"What the fuck?" The words escape before you can collect yourself. Your leggings cling to your thighs, sports bra damp against your chest. You feel suddenly, acutely exposed.

Christopher doesn't move, just watches you with that infuriating stillness of his. He's dressed impeccably. Black slacks and a cream long-sleeved crew neck shirt, both tailored to mathematical perfection, the glint of his watch worth more than most people's cars peeking out from beneath his sleeve. His hair is swept back, not a strand out of place. A stark contrast to your post-workout dishevelment.

"Good afternoon to you too," he says, voice level in a way that raises the hair on your arms. "Your doorman is remarkably accommodating when you flash the right credentials."

Mental note: File a complaint with management about the doorman. And put your foot so far up his ass you’ll rip him a new one.

"Breaking and entering is a crime, Christopher," you say, crossing your arms. You don't move closer. "Even for rich assholes."

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "I wouldn't have resorted to this if you'd answered a single one of my calls."

"Did it occur to you that there was a reason I wasn't answering?" You bend to pick up your mat, needing something to do with your hands. "That perhaps I didn't want to talk to you?"

"It's been three weeks." His composure cracks slightly, a fissure in perfect marble. "Three weeks of silence. Not even the courtesy of a response to my offer for renewal."

You laugh, though nothing about this is funny. "Courtesy? That's rich coming from you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He stands now, unfolding his frame from your couch, and you hate that part of you still responds to his presence. His confident stance, the breadth of shoulders under expensive fabric, the dangerous line of his mouth. And those fucking lips.

"It means I'm not renewing the fucking contract." You say it flatly, letting each word land. "I'm done. And I don't want you as a client anymore."

His entire body tenses, as if you've physically struck him. He wasn't expecting that; you can see it in the momentary widening of his eyes, the subtle step backward he takes. Christopher Bahng, master of the universe, actually caught off guard.

"That's absurd," he says, recovering quickly. "We have a good arrangement. The best, by your own admission."

"Had," you correct. "Past tense."

He moves toward you, crossing the cool expanse of your living room in three long strides. You force yourself not to retreat, even as he stops close enough that you can smell his cologne, that familiar blend that's imprinted itself on your senses, on your sheets, on your skin.

"This is about what happened that night." It's not a question. His chest rises and falls more rapidly now, control slipping. "About what I said."

"This is about me making a business decision," you counter. "Our arrangement has run its course."

His hand reaches for you, and you step neatly out of his grasp. Something flashes in his eyes… hurt, anger, both.

"You're being childish," he says, and the words strike a match inside you.

"Childish?" Your voice rises despite your best efforts. "Because I don't want to fuck you for money anymore? Because I had the audacity to develop feelings, that you encouraged by the way, and then got crushed when you made it clear all I am to you is a fantasy in a convenient body?"

Christopher's face darkens. "That's not what happened."

"No? Then what would you call it?" You're in dangerous territory now, the words spilling out unchecked. "Because from where I'm standing, you made it perfectly clear that our arrangement was purely transactional when I asked if you had feelings for me."

"You blindsided me." His voice rises to match yours.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you spit back. "Next time I'll be sure to schedule my emotional vulnerability in your Outlook calendar. Would that work better for you Christopher?"

"Don't twist my words." He steps closer, invading your space. "You know damn well that's not what I meant."

"Do I?" You tilt your chin up, refusing to be intimidated despite the hammering of your heart. "When I asked if there was something real between us, you shut down faster than the stock market on Black Monday."

"And you ran." His accusation hangs in the air between you. "You didn't give me a chance to process, to explain. You just disappeared."

You laugh. "You had a fucking month to process. Yet nothing. Even as you continued fucking me. And what was there to explain? You said everything I needed to hear."

"I said what I thought I was supposed to say!" The words explode from him, echoing off the high ceilings. You raise an eyebrow at his sudden loss of composure. "Christ, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I planned for any of this?"

"Poor Christopher," you mock. "Did the girl you were paying to fuck actually expect to be treated like a human being? How inconvenient for you." You roll your eyes.

His hands curl into fists at his sides, not threatening but restraining. "Is that really what you think of me? After everything?"

The question catches you off guard. There's genuine hurt in his voice, and it makes something inside you falter. But you've come too far to back down now.

"What I think doesn't matter," you say, more quietly. "Our arrangement is over. We’re done. I'd like you to leave."

"No." His refusal is soft but steel-lined. "Not until you hear me out."

"There's nothing to hear."

"I'm in love with you."

The words hang between you like a suspended moment of time. You stare at him, certain you've misheard. "What? What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said I'm in love with you." His voice is different now, raw, stripped of its usual polished confidence. "I love you. I've been in love with you since... I don't even know when. And it terrifies me."

You shake your head, disbelief warring with a dangerous spark of hope. "Don't do this," you warn him, your voice soft. There’s nothing you hate more than men trying to use ‘love’ to get their way.

"Do what? Tell the truth?" He laughs, a harsh sound. "Believe me, I tried not to. I told myself it was just sex, just companionship. That you were just another beautiful thing I could buy."

"Stop it," you whisper.

"But you're not. You never were." He runs a hand through his perfect hair, mussing it. "I see you. That ditz Rebecca got one thing right; you are a beautiful soul. You’re smart, you’re strong, you’re your own person. And you see me. Not Christopher Bahng the financial titan. Not the rich client. Me. Chris. The kid from the Bronx who grew up with nothing. And you're not afraid to call me on my shit. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

Your throat feels thick. "This isn't…"

"When you asked me that night about my feelings, I panicked." His confession rushes out now, unstoppable. "Because admitting I loved you meant admitting I could lose you. That you had power over me. And control is... it's all I've ever had. I wasn’t ready to take that risk."

"So you pushed me away instead," you say, voice hollow.

"I fucked up." The admission costs him, you can see it in the tight line of his shoulders. "In our last month together, I tried to let you have your space, allowed you to disconnect yourself and your feelings from me. I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t that attached to you.” He sighs deeply. “But these weeks without you? They've been hell. Every call you didn't answer, every message you ignored... I realized that the control I thought I needed was worth nothing if it meant losing you."

Your pulse thuds in your ears. This is everything you wanted to hear and everything you're afraid to believe.

"What exactly are you saying?" you ask, needing clarity.

Christopher takes a breath, steadying himself. "I'm saying I want you. Not as an arrangement, not as a transaction. Just you. I want a real relationship. I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want to watch sunrises with you. I want to lay my head in your lap when I have a shitty day. I want to eat your scrambled eggs for breakfast on the days I have time for breakfast. I want you to move in with me, properly, this time. No separate rooms. No conditions."

"And my work?" The question slips out before you can stop it.

His jaw tightens. "I won't share you. Not anymore. But I'll take care of you financially, if that's what you're worried about."

And just like that, the momentary spell is broken. "Take care of me? Like I'm what, your dependent? Your pet? Your toy?"

"That's not what I meant…"

"But it's what you said." The anger returns, sharper now. "You say you want me for real, but on your terms. You still want to control the situation. Control me."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" You're trembling now, but not from fear. From fury. From the bitter disappointment of almost believing. "You don't want a relationship, Christopher. You want ownership. That’s all you know."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that I just want to be with you?" His frustration matches yours. "And that I don't want to think about you with other men?"

"Because you're still making it about what you want!" The words tear from your throat, loud enough that you’re sure the entire building has heard you. "My work, my life, my body, my choices; they're mine to make. Not yours to approve or forbid."

"So that's it?" His voice drops dangerously. "You'd rather keep whoring yourself than be with me?"

The slap of his words stings worse than any physical blow could. You step back, ice crystallizing around your heart.

"Heh….” You shake your head slowly in disbelief as you chuckle. This is how he really sees you. “Get out."

"Baby girl…" He steps closer to you. “I didn’t…”

"Don't you fucking dare." Your voice shakes as you move away from him. "I can’t believe I thought you could be a real person,” you say more to yourself than to him. “Get the fuck out of my face. Get out of my penthouse. Get out of my life."

Christopher stands frozen, shock written across his features. For a man so accustomed to control, to getting exactly what he wants, your rejection is incomprehensible.

"You don't mean that," he says, but doubt has crept in.

"Try me." You stride to the door, wrench it open. "Leave, Christopher. Now."

For a moment, he doesn't move, and you think he might refuse. Then, slowly, he walks toward the door. He pauses as he passes you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

"This isn't over," he says quietly. "What's between us… it's real. You know it is."

You stare straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. "There’s nothing between us. Goodbye, Christopher."

The door closes behind him with a click that sounds like finality. Only when you're sure he's gone do you allow your legs to give way, sliding down the wall to the floor, yoga mat forgotten, sweat drying cold on your skin.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Christopher, no doubt. You ignore it, head tipping back against the wall, eyes closed against a sting that has nothing to do with post-workout exhaustion.

He loves you. And it changes nothing.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you dial Eva's number, the phone slick against your palm. The penthouse feels too quiet now, Christopher's absence a tangible thing, like furniture moved just slightly out of place. You need another voice, someone who understands this world and its complicated currencies of power and desire. Eva picks up on the third ring, and you don't bother with pleasantries. "I need you to come over. Now."

"What happened?" Eva's voice is sharp, instantly alert. She knows you don't panic easily.

"Christopher was here." Your voice sounds strange to your own ears, stretched thin like worn elastic. "He… We had it out. He said he loves me."

A beat of silence. "I'll be there in twenty."

The call ends with a click, and you're alone again with the echo of Christopher's words. Love. Such a small word for something so dangerous. 

You pull yourself from the ground and head to the bathroom. You peel off your damp workout clothes, stepping into the shower on autopilot. The hot water drenches your skin, but it can't wash away the memory of his face when you told him to leave. There was shock giving way to something that looked uncomfortably like heartbreak.

By the time you've dressed in soft loungewear, hair wrapped in a towel, your mind has replayed the confrontation a dozen different ways. Each version ends the same, with Christopher walking out your door and taking something of yours with him, something you hadn't meant to give.

Your phone buzzes with Eva's text.

Eva: Downstairs. Buzz me up.

You: Tell that motherfucker that if he can let some random ass man into my home without my consent, he can let you in. He’s sees you every fucking week.

Eva: Uh… Okay.

You ditch the towel and walk out of your bedroom, then stand in the center of your living room, unsure what to do with your body. The space still feels charged, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. You can almost see the indent in your couch where he sat, waiting for you.

After two quick knocks, the door opens and Eva strides in, all five feet ten inches of her a vision in a crimson wrap dress, lips painted to match. She takes one look at you and arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"You look like shit," she says, kicking off her heels by the door. It's her way of showing concern.

"Thanks. You look stunning, as always."

Eva crosses to you, bracelets jangling as she takes your face between her hands, examining you like a doctor checking for symptoms. "Have you been crying?"

You pull back. "No."

"Liar." She releases you, moving to the kitchen where she pulls a bottle of red wine from your rack with familiar ease. "So. Christopher Bahng, love confession. Start from the beginning."

You sink onto the couch, pulling your legs up beneath you. "He broke into my apartment."

"Dramatic. Is that why the doorman is now terrified of you?" Eva pours two generous glasses. "This is not surprising. Men like him don't handle rejection well, and three weeks of ghosting is definitely a rejection."

"I wasn't ghosting him. I was..." You accept the wine she hands you, searching for the right word. "Processing."

Eva settles beside you, her eyes, sharp and knowing as ever, never leaving your face. "And what conclusion did this processing lead to? Before he showed up with his grand declaration."

You take a sip, letting the tannins bite at your tongue. "That it's over. That it has to be."

"Why?" The question is simple but pointed.

"Because he wants to own me." The words come automatically, rehearsed. "Because he thinks he can buy me like everything else in his life. He didn’t come here to tell me he loved me. He came to offer terms for an extended arrangement. His love confession only came after I said I wasn’t interested in another contract."

Eva makes a noncommittal sound, swirling her wine. "And what exactly did he say, when he professed this earth-shattering love?"

You relay the conversation, trying to keep your voice detached, clinical. But even as you speak, you hear the tremor creeping in, feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Eva watches, her expression unreadable.

"So," she says when you finish, "he wants a real relationship. No contract, no arrangement. Just you and him, playing house in his mansion."

"With conditions," you counter. "No more work. Complete financial dependence on him."

"Did he say that explicitly?"

You pause, remembering. "He said he'd 'take care of me financially.'"

"Mmm." Eva sips her wine. "And that's a deal-breaker."

"Of course it is!" The vehemence in your voice surprises even you. "I've worked too hard for my independence. Where does that put me when he decides he wants a new toy and he’s done playing house with me? I’ve already tasted that. For five months he worshipped me, was emotionally vulnerable with me, let me see the parts of him he hid from everyone else; then all of a sudden I was just something he paid to fuck again with no warning. And when I tried to get him to be open with me, he shut me down and basically told me my role was to fulfill his fantasies and anything else I felt I was imagining. I’m not interested in that shit again. And I'm not trading one form of transaction for another."

"Are you sure that's what he's offering?" Eva's tone is mild, but her gaze is penetrating. "Are you sure you're not using your work as a shield?"

You blink at her. "A shield?"

"Against vulnerability. Against the possibility that this might actually be real." She leans forward, bracelets clinking. "Think about it. How many clients have said they loved you? How many have offered to make it exclusive?"

"Several." You shrug. "It's part of the fantasy. They all think they're fucking special."

"And how many have you believed?" She doesn't wait for your answer. "None. Until Christopher."

The truth of it sits heavy in your chest. You stare into your wine, seeing nothing.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Eva asks, her voice softer now. "Are you sure you want to walk away?"

"I don’t doubt that he loves me. And yes, despite everything, I've fallen hard for him," you admit, the words leaving a burn in their wake. "But I can't let this control me. Not when he thinks he can use love as chains. And that’s what he’s doing. I can't become another possession."

Eva sets down her glass, turning fully toward you. Her expression is unusually grave. "Listen to me. I've been in this business longer than you. I've seen every kind of relationship, every kind of arrangement. I know what I said about Christopher at the beginning. But what you and Christopher have? It's not typical. And I don't just mean the black card and the mansion."

"What do you mean, then?"

"I mean he sees you." Eva's words echo Christopher's uncomfortably. "The real you, not just the fantasy you sell. And you see him; the man behind the money, behind the power. That's rare. That's worth considering, even with the complications."

"He wants me to stop working," you say stubbornly.

"So negotiate." Eva shrugs, as if it's simple. "Set boundaries. Find compromise. That's what real relationships require."

You shake your head, a hollow laugh escaping. "Christopher Bahng doesn't compromise."

"He does. He did it with your arrangement. Gave you everything you asked for. And that was before you got to know each other. Maybe he’s changed." Eva drains her glass, standing in one fluid motion. "Or maybe you'll realize some things are worth surrendering for. Not your independence, never that. But maybe your fear."

She gathers her things and walks to the door. “I have to run, babe. An appointment.” She slips back into her heels, then pauses, looking back at you with an expression you can't quite decipher. "For what it's worth," she says, "I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him. Not even when you're trying to hate him."

And then she's gone, leaving you with a half-empty wine glass and thoughts that refuse to settle into any coherent pattern. You sit motionless, watching shadows lengthen across your floor as afternoon slides toward evening.

Eva's words circle in your mind, bumping against Christopher's. Love. Compromise. Fear. The shape of them changes each time, like a kaleidoscope turning.

Your phone rings, startling you from your reverie. An unfamiliar number. No, not unfamiliar; just one you keep forgetting to save. Hyunjin.

Your finger hovers over "decline." At the last moment, something makes you swipe to answer instead.

"What?" Your greeting lacks warmth.

"Good evening to you too." Hyunjin's voice is smooth as aged whiskey, with just a hint of amusement. "I think we need to talk."

"Let me guess. Christopher sent his attack dog to clean up his mess."

A soft chuckle. "If I were in 'attack dog' mode, believe me, this conversation would be very different. And no, he doesn't know I'm calling. In fact, he'd probably fire me from my job and as his best friend if he did."

That gives you pause. "Then why are you?"

"Because I've known Christopher Bahng for almost twenty years, and I've never seen him like this. He's a wreck."

Something twists in your chest: concern, satisfaction, guilt. You push it away. "Not my problem."

"See, I think it is." Hyunjin's tone remains conversational, but there's steel underneath. "I think you're both making this far more complicated than it needs to be."

"He broke into my apartment."

"Technically, he was let in." Hyunjin sounds almost bored. "And yes, it was excessive. Christopher doesn't do anything by halves. Surely you've noticed."

You bite back a caustic reply, because he's right. Everything about Christopher is intense, all-consuming. It's what drew you to him, even as it terrified you.

"Look," Hyunjin continues, "I understand why you're pissed. Chris can be extremely stubborn, especially when he's scared."

"Christopher Bahng, scared?" You can't keep the skepticism from your voice.

"Terrified." Hyunjin says it matter-of-factly. "He's never been in love before. Not really. Not like this."

The word hangs between you, a live wire. "He has a funny way of showing it."

"Does he?" Hyunjin sounds genuinely curious. "He's given you everything you've asked for, hasn't he? Well, except for the one thing he couldn't admit to himself; that he loves you. Always has. But he's admitted it now, hasn't he?"

You swallow hard. "He also wants to control me. My work, my life…"

"He wants exclusivity," Hyunjin corrects. "He's possessive, yes. Jealous, absolutely. But controlling? I don't think that's quite fair."

"Oh please, Jin. He’s the literal definition of a control freak. I’m sure if I were to look it up, his picture would appear as the classic example. He wants to dictate every aspect of my life: what I wear, how I smell, how I do my hair. He wants me to quit my job and depend on him financially. What would you call it?"

A pause. "Okay, yes, he’s also a bit controlling. But I'd call it more clumsy than anything. An inelegant attempt to keep you in his life without having to share you. But I think it's less about control… not in the way you mean."

You say nothing, processing this perspective. It's one thing to hear it from Eva, who knows you but not Christopher. But Hyunjin knows him, has known him for decades and is the one person on the planet who knows everything about him.

"Here's what I know," Hyunjin continues into your silence. "You're both in love with each other. And you're both too fucking stubborn to admit it without conditions."

"I told him how I felt," you say defensively. "That I had strong feelings for him. A month before the end of the contract. I asked him to tell me I meant something to him, more than the arrangement. He shut me down."

"So he was on a different timeline. But now he's told you, and you've done the same thing. Shut him down." A smile colors Hyunjin's voice. "You're more alike than you think."

"Stay the fuck out of it, Hyunjin." Your voice hardens. "I don't care if you're the Christopher whisperer. This is between him and me."

"Fair enough." He doesn't sound offended. "But ask yourself this: if your positions were reversed, if you had his money, his power, and fell in love with someone who slept with other people for a living… would you be so quick to share?"

The question hits uncomfortably close to home, touching a nerve you thought you had numbed. It’s one thing for Eva to push you to confront your feelings, but Hyunjin knows exactly how to reframe Christopher’s perspective. To put you emotionally off balance. You know what he’s doing, and it pisses you off even more because it’s working.

“But here’s the thing, Hyunjin,” you say, spitting his name like an expletive while you pace your living room. “He knew I was a whore before all of this started,” you say, using Christopher’s word to describe yourself; a word you never use. “Did he tell you he called me a whore?” You don’t wait for an answer. “What the fuck do I look Iike? Some girl standing on a dusty ass corner begging for a ten in exchange for a blow job only to hand it over to my pimp so he can reward me with two of those dollars? I may not be a billionaire, but my annual take home salary is over two-hundred thousand. I own my penthouse and my mom’s home outright. My IRA is maximized every fucking year and my 401K makes a million annually just on dividends. He can get the fuck outta here with that whore bullshit. He knew what being with me meant. Nobody made him sign up for this; in fact, it was his idea, his deal, his arrangement.” You sigh deeply. “He said he loved me because I was different, not like the rest. And now suddenly I’m supposed to fit into this neat little box because he doesn’t like that I have sex with other men? What happened to being special? What happened to being the one? You don't do that; you don’t put conditions on someone you claim to love."

Hyunjin stays quiet, letting you burn off the frustration. You can almost see his smirk at your rant, the way he’s probably lounging somewhere luxuriously. The world’s most unbothered fixer.

"This is who I am, Hyunjin," you continue, relentless, emotions spilling over. "What I do for a living doesn’t define who I really am as a person anymore than what he does defines him. Yet, he gets to demand I change my life because my job involves fucking people? Do I get to make similar demands about what he does for his job since he fucks people over financially? The hypocrisy and misogyny are astounding." You don’t give Hyunjin the chance to speak, your voice rising in pitch. “Imagine how it makes me feel that he decided to buy me and then changed his mind about what that means. All of a sudden, he can’t stand thinking about me with other men, he can’t stand not having me all to himself. But what about me? Why would I want to be as attached as I am, only for him to one day decide he’s done with me and he wants a new sexy toy? Or that I’m not good enough to love as an equal? I can’t do that again.”

Your words echo in the room, bouncing off the walls with a ferocity that surprises you. You’re panting a little, like you’ve just finished an argument with Christopher himself, and in a way, you have. It feels like Hyunjin is the stand-in, the proxy, navigating through you and Christopher’s bullshit too easily.

"Touché," Hyunjin replies.

He sounds amused, but there’s a hint of admiration in the word. You can picture him quirking an eyebrow, completely unfazed by your tirade. He always was the more perceptive of the two of them, more willing to let you rant yourself into exhaustion. You force yourself to quiet down, steady your breathing.

When he speaks again, breaking the silence with your real name, his tone is different. It’s gentler, almost coaxing. "Look, I know you’re pissed. You have every right to be. And I’m sorry he called you a whore. Everything you’ve said is valid. But have you considered that maybe you’re scared too?"

Scared. That damned word again. 

Scared to lose him. Scared to want him. Scared that he has the power to destroy you, and maybe you have the power to destroy him too, if you'd let yourself use it. Scared you can’t trust the love without the transaction and the rules, the security without the walls you keep so carefully constructed.

“Of course I’m fucking scared,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he wants me to act like something I’m not and that he wants to have the upper hand in this relationship where he gets to dictate what everything is, what everything means. I’m not interested in any of that.”

"Just think about it," Hyunjin says softly. "Before you throw away something that could be extraordinary. For both of you." He takes a deep breath. “You know, I also love having you around, as a part of our fam. Not sure that holds any weight for you, but I hope it does.”

The call ends, leaving you with a silence that feels heavier than before. Outside your windows, the city sparkles into twilight, thousands of lights glimmering like promises. Somewhere out there, in his sleek glass tower, Christopher is wrestling with the same questions, the same fears.

You close your eyes, letting yourself imagine, just for a moment, what it might be like to choose him. To be chosen by him, not for your body or your companionship, but for yourself. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Your wine sits forgotten on the coffee table. The night stretches ahead, full of possibilities and pitfalls. And for the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to truly feel the ache of his absence, not as a client, but as the man who somehow, against all odds, has become essential to your life.

Hours later, you lie in bed, eyes tracing the subtle patterns of shadow and light that play across your ceiling as cars pass on the street below. Sleep feels like a foreign country, distant, unreachable. Your mind keeps circling back to Christopher's face as he said those three dangerous words.

I love you.

The memory of it sits on your chest like a stone, heavy with possibility and fear. You've been here before, staring at ceilings, dissecting men's words for truth. But it's never felt like this…like your entire future balances on the edge of a decision.

The digital clock on your nightstand blinks 3:17 AM in accusatory red. Hours since Eva left. Hours since Hyunjin's call. Hours of circular thinking that leads you nowhere except back to Christopher's eyes, dark with an emotion you're afraid to name.

You roll onto your side, punching your pillow into submission. This is ridiculous. He's just a man. Another wealthy, entitled man who thinks he can arrange the world to suit him. So what if he's different from your other clients? So what if he makes you laugh, challenges you, sees parts of you that you've kept hidden from everyone else?

So what if you're in love with him?

The thought arrives fully formed, impossible to deny in the honest darkness of your bedroom.

You're in love with Christopher Bahng.

Not with his money or his power or the luxuries he provides. With him. With the man who grew up with nothing, who built an empire through sheer force of will, who looks at you like you're the most fascinating puzzle he's ever encountered.

You close your eyes, and memories flood in unbidden.

Christopher teaching you to play chess in his study, his smile slow and surprised when you captured his queen. His hand at the small of your back as you entered a crowded space, protective but not possessive. The way he listened, really listened, when you told him about your childhood, about the dreams you had for your future, about the compromises you've made along the way.

But there are darker memories too.

His cold fury when another man flirted with you at a charity event. The way he once casually mentioned buying the restaurant where you first met, as if acquiring significant landmarks in your shared history was normal behavior. The times when his need for control slipped into something harder, hungrier, when his hands gripped you tight enough to leave marks, not out of cruelty but from a sheer desperation to keep you close.

Christopher Bahng is complicated. Possessive, yes. Controlling, at times. But also vulnerable in ways he shows to no one else.

You remember the night he told you about his mother's death, how his voice had cracked on the memory, how he'd tried to hide the moisture in his eyes before throwing himself in your lap as he sobbed. You remember how he'd relaxed beneath your hands that night, tension melting like ice under spring sun.

You sit up, giving up on sleep entirely. This circular thinking will get you nowhere. What you need is clarity. A balance sheet of pros and cons, the kind of objective assessment you'd make for any other life-changing decision.

Pro: Christopher loves you. Not the version of you that you present to clients, but the real you. Messy, stubborn, sarcastic, ambitious you.

Con: His love comes with expectations. No more work. Financial dependence.

Pro: You love him too. The real him, not the financial titan or the dominant lover, but the man beneath. The one who sometimes wakes from nightmares he won't discuss, who reads philosophy and poetry and romance books before bed, who still has a soft spot for the bodega cat near his first apartment and keeps a picture of her and one of her kitten litters tucked away in his drawer.

Con: Loving him means vulnerability. It means giving someone else power over your happiness.

Pro: With Christopher, you don't have to pretend. You don't have to be the fantasy: charming, agreeable, endlessly accommodating. You can be sharp-tongued, challenging, a pain in the ass, and he loves you for it.

Con: You'd be giving up your professional independence, the control over your body and time that you've fought so hard to maintain.

You press the heels of your hands against your eyes until sparks dance behind your lids. The list feels inadequate, clinical. How do you quantify the way your heart races when he enters a room or he smiles at you with those fucking dimples? How do you measure the comfort of being truly seen? How do you weigh independence against belonging?

Hyunjin's words return to you: if your positions were reversed… if you had his money, his power, and fell in love with someone who slept with other people for a living, would you be so quick to share?

The truth lands like a blow. You wouldn't want to share. The thought of Christopher with another woman, even professionally, makes something feral curl in your gut. You've been judging him for a possessiveness you also share.

But that doesn't mean you'd demand he quit, become financially dependent on you. You’d leave that choice up to him, and if you were truly in love with him, you’d move past it. There's a line between commitment and control, and that's where the negotiation needs to happen.

Your phone lies dark on the nightstand. It would be so easy to pick it up, to text him, to start repairing the bridge you burned today. But once that door opens, there's no closing it again. Whatever happens next will be irreversible in a way your arrangement never was.

You reach for the phone anyway.

The screen illuminates your face in the darkness as you type, delete, and retype a message. Finally, you settle on simplicity

You: Can we talk? Today, Prospect Park by the lake. 1 PM.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, then fall back against your pillows, heart hammering as if you've run a marathon. It's done. The ball is in his court now.

The response comes faster than you expected given how early it is, your phone buzzing against your palm.

Christopher: I'll be there.

Just three words, but they carry the weight of promise. You stare at them until the screen dims, then fades to black. Outside your window, the sky has begun to lighten, night giving way to the first tentative touches of dawn. You close your eyes at last, and sleep finds you easily now, as if it was only waiting for you to make a decision.

****

The park hums with Saturday afternoon life: children shrieking by the playground, joggers pounding past on gravel paths, couples sprawled on blankets enjoying the unseasonable warmth. You spot Christopher before he sees you, a solitary figure by the lake, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Even dressed down in a simple black t-shirt, he stands apart, marked by an innate confidence that draws the eye.

Your pulse quickens as you approach. This is Christopher without the armor of his suits, without the shield of his office or mansion. Just a man waiting by a lake, uncertainty written in the set of his shoulders.

He turns as you draw near, sensing your presence before you speak. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

"Thank you for coming," you say finally, stopping a few feet away from him.

"Thank you for asking me to." His voice is measured, careful. "I wasn't sure I’d hear from you again."

You gesture toward a nearby bench, and he nods. You sit together, a careful distance between you, watching ducks glide across the lake's surface.

"I've been thinking about what you said," you begin, eyes fixed on the water. It's easier somehow, not looking at him. "About wanting a real relationship."

Christopher shifts beside you, but doesn't interrupt. You can feel him looking at you.

"I need you to understand something." You turn to face him now, needing to see his reaction. "I'm in love with you too. I have been for... longer than I want to admit. That's why I asked you that night, about your feelings."

His expression softens, relief and something like wonder crossing his features. "Baby girl…"

"Let me finish," you say, gentle but firm. "I'm in love with you, but I'm also my own person. I built my life on my terms, and I won't give that up. Not even for you."

Christopher's jaw tightens, but he nods for you to continue.

"If we do this, if we try for something real, it needs to be clear that I am not your possession or your toy. I'm your partner." You hold his gaze, unflinching. "That means we make decisions together. That means the controlling shit stops."

"And your work?" The question is quiet, but there's tension behind it.

You take a breath. "I'm willing to consider stopping escorting. Not because you demand it, but because I want exclusivity too. So I’ll think about it. But it is my decision to make, not yours. If I choose to continue, you’d need to decide if you can live with that. But I can’t be kept; I need financial independence. I need my own money, my own security."

"I could provide that security," he says, a hint of his usual confidence returning.

"I know you could. But I need to know I can stand on my own two feet, with or without you." You soften your voice. "It's not about trust, Chris. It's about who I am, fundamentally."

He's silent for a long moment, processing. The ducks circle back toward your end of the lake, hopeful for bread crumbs that aren't coming.

"I've never done this before," he admits finally. "A real relationship, I mean.”

“What about Julia?”

“Julia was... different. More of a performance. Less complicated."

"I haven’t been in a real relationship either. Not since high school, and that doesn’t fucking count." You smile faintly. "We're both fumbling in the dark here."

His hand finds yours on the bench between you, fingers brushing against your skin. The contact sends a current through you.

"I meant what I said yesterday," he says, voice low. "I love you. Not as a possession or a trophy, though I know I've treated you that way sometimes. I love your mind, your stubbornness, the way you call me on my shit."

"I do that a lot," you acknowledge, warmth spreading through your chest.

"Too much, sometimes." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "But I need it. Need you." He goes quiet again as he looks down at your joined hands. "About that night, when we had dinner with the Thompsons… They talked about being truly vulnerable for the person you love and I didn’t know if I could do that. I thought I would lose you," he admits finally, his voice raw and stripped of its usual confidence. “I was so fucking terrified of losing you that I unintentionally sabotaged us.”

You cup his face with both hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You’re not going to lose me,” you say, your voice steady and full of the truth you’ve come to realize. “You’re not. Not if you continue to be open with me, and share the real version of yourself. The Chris who told me about the chip on his shoulder, who opened up about being scarred physically and emotionally by his dad, who held me when he woke up from nightmares, who cried in my arms about his mom… that’s the man I fell in love with. I could give a shit about all the other stuff like the mansion, the cars, the trips…”

Your fingers interlace with his, the simple contact more intimate somehow than all the nights you've spent in his bed.

“That man sounds pathetic,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No, that man sounds genuine,” you counter. “Real. As real as those emerald earrings you bought for me.”

“So you did see those,” Christopher presses, a hint of curiosity in his voice, though his gaze remains fixed on your intertwined fingers, unwilling to meet your eyes.

“I did,” you respond, keeping your voice steady.

“I had them made especially for you," he continues, the corners of his mouth twitching with a flicker of emotion. “Each emerald surrounded by 6 diamonds for the 6 months we spent together. But you didn’t take them with you.”

Your heart tightens as you lean back slightly. “I didn’t want them," you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. "I wanted you, Chris.” The words were barely a whisper. You both fall silent, the air growing heavy with unspoken words. "So where does this leave us?" you ask.

Christopher turns to face you fully, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "It leaves us figuring it out together. I can't promise I won't be possessive or controlling sometimes; it's in my nature. But I can promise to try. To listen. To respect your boundaries."

"And I can't promise I won't challenge you, push back when you get too controlling. But I can promise to be honest. To stay, even when it's hard. To choose you, every day."

His thumb traces the line of your cheekbone, a touch so tender it makes your throat ache. "I want you to move back in. We can set up a home office for you, your own space, if you want to continue your business. Or you could finish your MBA. Whatever you want."

The offer is unexpected, a glimpse of the compromise Eva suggested might be possible. "You'd support that?"

"I'd support anything that makes you happy," he says simply. "As long as you're with me."

You lean into his touch, the last of your resistance melting away. "Okay."

"Okay?" Hope flares in his eyes.

"Okay, I'll move in with you. For real this time. No separate rooms, no arrangement." You smile, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. "Just us, figuring it out."

Christopher's answering smile is radiant, transforming his usually guarded features. He leans forward, and you meet him halfway, lips finding each other in a kiss that feels like coming home. His hand slides to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer, and you go willingly, heart hammering against your ribs.

When you part, both slightly breathless, he rests his forehead against yours. "This won't be easy," he murmurs. "I'm not an easy man to love."

"And I'm not an easy woman," you reply with a soft laugh. "But maybe that's the point. Maybe the best things never are."

Around you, the park continues its Saturday rhythm, oblivious to the seismic shift that's just occurred between you and the man who once bought your time but now holds your heart. There will be challenges ahead: his possessiveness, your need for independence, both of your stubbornness, the delicate balance of power between you. But for now, with his hand warm in yours and the sun dappling the lake before you, those challenges feel manageable.

You lean against his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap securely around you. For the first time, the embrace doesn't feel like ownership; it feels like belonging. To him, to yourself, to the complicated, beautiful thing growing between you.

"Take me home," you say softly, and Christopher's arm tightens around you, understanding all the layers of meaning in those three simple words.

The two of you stand, hands still linked, and begin the walk back through the park. With each step, the future unfolds before you. It’s uncertain, imperfect, but yours to create together.

By the time you make it to your penthouse, you're breathless, having barely contained the fire simmering between you. His mouth is on yours before the door finishes swinging shut, an urgency there you haven't felt before. You pull him toward the sofa, but he sweeps you into his arms, carrying you to your bedroom like you weigh nothing at all. This time you're both laughing, giddy, lightheaded with this new possibility.

The bed is a mess of tangled sheets and discarded clothes before you even hit the mattress, and you can see the hunger in his eyes, in the way his hands claim your body like he's never tasted you before. But this time is different; this time you're not afraid to let yourself go, not afraid to give in entirely. It's not something he bought or demanded; it's something you are finally ready to share.

He pins you to the bed, lips tracing the length of your throat, your collarbone, the curve of your breast. Each touch is a promise, each kiss an unspoken vow. You arch against him, breath catching in your throat as he moves lower, lower. "Mine?" he asks in a groan against your skin, and for the first time, the word doesn't feel like a demand, a threat, or a trap. It feels like a choice, a gift.

"Yours," you answer, pulling his head back up to meet your eyes, to catch the look on his face as he slides into you, deep and overwhelming. You hold his gaze, unguarded, vulnerable in a way you’ve never been, surrendering to everything he makes you feel. Your nails rake down his back, and he grinds into you harder, swallowing the sound of your pleasure with his mouth, taking you to the edge and back again. He rolls, pulling you on top of him, wanting you in control, in charge. Your hands brace on his chest as you ride him, unrestrained and unreserved.

His gaze is fixed on you, drinking in every inch of your body in motion above him. His hands grip your hips, guiding your motion. With each rotation of your hips, you teeter on the edge until finally succumbing to an outcry of unadulterated bliss as your climax crashes over you like a tempestuous wave. Christopher soon follows suit, uttering your name with fervor as he finds release within you.

But it doesn’t stop there. Christopher clearly wants to make up for lost time as he flips your bodies once again to continue fucking you. You lose track of how many times you cum, together and apart, until you collapse against him, both of you spent and satisfied, bodies slick with sweat and limbs inextricably tangled. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you close, and your heart feels raw in your chest. There’s no space between you now. No distance, no walls. Just a man and a woman, both finally unafraid to let go completely.

For a timeless moment, you linger there, immersed in the euphoria of your union. Christopher’s chest rises and falls beneath your cheek. The soft rhythm is mesmerizing, comforting, familiar, against your ear.

“When did you know?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence in the room. The words escape your lips with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of vulnerability.

“Hmmm?” Christopher asked, confused as he gently combed his fingers through your hair.

You shift the position of your head on his chest to look up at him, capturing his eyes. You need to know. "When did you realize it was more than just sex? When did you know you were in love with me?" These questions have danced around the edge of your consciousness for the past twenty-four hours, begging for clarity. Some part of you suspects you already know the answer, but you need to hear it from him. You need him to spell it out, to give voice to the things that have remained unspoken between you for so long.

His eyes meet yours, and you brace yourself for the possibility that he might dodge the question altogether. It's the sort of thing Christopher would sidestep, leaving you to piece together the fragments on your own. But then something beautiful and unexpected happens. His gaze shifts, softens, and in that instant, you see the unmistakable traces of everything he’s been holding back: the passion simmering beneath the surface, the hesitation that once kept him at a distance, the sheer vulnerability that he’s risked now by opening himself to you.

Christopher’s fingers still in your hair as he draws in a deep breath, like he’s unsure of where to start or how to open the door you’ve cracked with your question. His lips part, forming something that never quite makes it out into words, and you think, just for a moment, that he will definitely retreat. The anticipation is thick between you, and you barely realize you’re holding your breath until he speaks.

“I think I knew it the first time you told me ‘no’,” he confesses, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The words tumble out, ragged and so unexpectedly vulnerable that they leave you momentarily stunned.

You feel a laugh rise in your throat, the sound bright and full of surprise. "Seriously?"

He nods, his expression softening as if the memory lingers just beneath the surface. "Nobody, other than Jin, had ever done that before. Not to me. Not since I became this version of Christopher Bahng. Not the way you did. You said no and walked out, and I thought I'd let it go. But then I just… couldn't. It drove me insane; a beautiful woman, much less an escort, who didn't need me or my money. I wasn't prepared for you, Baby Girl. I wasn't prepared for how much you had unintentionally fucked with my head."

You think back to that night. It was your third time meeting with him. He had asked if you could spend the night, but that wasn’t part of the original engagement and you had plans the following morning that you weren’t interested in cancelling. The disbelief on his face when you refused his offer to triple your pay, the way he had watched you leave, like he couldn't quite believe it was happening. Who knew that something so simple could affect him so deeply?

You let his confession sink in, savoring each word and the weight they carry. "It didn't seem like love then," you say softly. "It seemed like you were pissed."

"I was," he admits with a low chuckle. "God, I was pissed. But underneath that, underneath everything, I realized what I really felt was..." He pauses, as though he still can't quite believe it himself. "Scared. Scared of how much I wanted you, even after just three appointments. Scared that you'd slip through my fingers."

Your heart skips, the admission resonating deep within you. "Chris…"

"A few dates later you called me ‘Chris’ and it did something to me.” That was your fifth meeting. He had fucked you so good, you slipped up and moaned the name Chris. You noticed him react to it, but he hadn’t said anything at the time. “And then you accepted the arrangement," he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought I'd won. That you were mine. But you kept me at arm's length, added all those extra protections and boundaries and time away from me and the house. It drove me fucking crazy.”

You remember how he barely contained his surprise at the extensive changes you requested to the contract, particularly having a separate bedroom and three days outside the mansion.

"I couldn't stand it," he says, his voice gaining intensity, emotion spilling over the edges. “Having you, but not really having you. I wanted you to love me. But I was too much of a fucking coward to admit it." He brushes a strand of hair from your face, the tenderness in his touch a contrast to the rawness in his words. "I didn't know for sure until I told you about my scar, my dad."

A jolt of something, recognition or maybe relief, sparks inside you, your mind racing through the months you've just lived. The fight in your penthouse. The aching silence when you asked him to leave. The desperate plea in his eyes when he turned back, urging you to consider him.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why wait?" There’s no accusation in your tone, just a genuine need to understand. It’s a need he hears, he feels, because he pulls you even closer, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

"Because I thought I could do it," he admits, his voice hoarse with sincerity. "I thought I could keep it professional. I thought I could have you on my terms. But you ruined me, Baby Girl. Ruined me for anything less."

His words wrap around your heart, squeezing, releasing, leaving you raw and filled with a joy you weren't sure you'd ever feel when you first met him.

"What about you?" he asks, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “When did you know you were head over heels in love with me?” he inquires with a smirk.

You laugh loudly, unsure how to put words to what you're feeling or to the journey that brought you here. Then, you start to consider it, the question piercing straight through you. God, when did you know? You look off to the side, the memories flooding back, each one demanding a different kind of attention. 

Surely not at the start, not when you had everything planned out so perfectly.

The truth is, you've known for a while now, maybe much longer than you care to admit. But it crept in somewhere, sometime, despite all your efforts to keep it at bay. It caught you off guard, a slow unraveling that you didn't notice until it was too late. You wrack your brain, letting the months and moments unravel like an old film reel, flickering behind your eyes. 

Suddenly, a single point in time stands out.

The night he fell apart in your arms, the night you held him through his grief and something shifted inside you. The night you almost let hope ruin everything you believed about yourself.

You look back up at him, seeing the anticipation in his face, the mixture of curiosity and affection that colors his expression. "I felt a connection blooming between us when I learned that our backgrounds were similar. Then when Julia warned me about you, I was confused as to why what she shared about you had affected me so deeply. Paris was certainly a turning point; I felt that we could have something real after we went to the club. But really�� I think it was when you told me about your mom," you confess softly, drawing patterns on his chest with the tip of your finger.

He gives you a curious look, and you smile despite the ache of remembering. "When you cried in my arms and let me hold you. When you showed me a side of yourself I never thought I'd see. It terrified me, how much I wanted to hold on to you. How much I wanted to keep you. How much I wanted it to be real."

“So it was real,” he murmurs, relief and something deeper, lighting his eyes. “Even then.”

"Even then," you confirm, brushing your lips against his. "Especially then. You broke my heart that night with how vulnerable you were. How fucking brave you were to be so open about that. And I was so fucking scared of what it meant for both of us."

“And then I fucking ruined it,” he said with a sigh, “by withdrawing, by pushing you away.” After a brief pause he adds, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you reply.

He rolls you onto your back, pressing his body against yours. You can feel his heart pounding through his chest, matching yours beat for beat. "Promise me you won't run again," he says, the plea rough against your neck. "Promise me you'll stay."

"I promise, daddy," you whisper, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him deeper into this new, uncertain, beautiful life together. "I'm yours, Chris. Yours."

It's a promise you intend to keep, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how much he tests your patience, no matter how much you both have to change. Hell, it’s a promise you intend to keep even when it means challenging everything you’ve ever known about yourself. 

You're his. He's yours. 

The rest is just details, working themselves out with each push and pull, with each moment spent holding on when it would be easier to let go.

He's yours. You're his.

You're both in so fucking deep that the idea of escaping is the real impossibility now.

There's no contract this time, no countdown to the finish line or safety net to catch you if it all goes sideways. Just desire and commitment and the hope that what you have is strong enough to withstand everything you've thrown away to get here. 

How did it come to this? How did you go from a perfectly orchestrated life to this beautiful, terrifying mess of a relationship?

It's addictive, all-consuming, terrifying, and my god… exactly what you both want now.

Beyond you and Christopher, it's a whole new world to navigate. And the challenges are very fucking real. Gossip. Friends. Family. Staying out of the public eye. And maybe the biggest challenge of all: admitting you might actually be afraid of the future.

But for now, for right here, as his lips press softly against yours, you don’t think you’ve ever been this happy.

The contract may have ended, but this… this thing between you and Christopher is only the beginning.

A/N: Thanks so much for coming along for the emotional ride on this story. And also for the great comments, which got me excited about posting and talking with y'all (more so than the likes).

When I first started posting Thank You, Daddy, I was pretty sure this would be the last fic I posted to Tumblr because no one ever commented or shared their thoughts about anything, so I wasn't sure if any of these stories were resonating with folks. Don't take for granted that your engagement is what encourages us authors to continue sharing our work. Otherwise, I'm just writing for myself.

Anyway, let me know you're final thoughts.

Hope to see the comments/engagement keep rolling in for additional fics. I have a one-shot coming probably on Friday or Saturday, and then a new darker story starting next week. Hope to see you there!

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

[the-dragon-hearted]

Fairy Tail: Smartest Character Headcannons

No one asked, but I wanted to elaborate on my characterization of the "smart" characters in the Fairy Tail fanfiction. These are just in chronological order.

Zeref Dragneel: One must imagine boy-genius mixed with a teenage moron. By that I mean this man is so smart when it comes to science, math, history, language, health, magic - but he's a dumbass when it comes to literally anything else.

Feats: He's a genius

Discovered ethernanos and then created a whole race to combat both dragons and gods. Literally a pinnacle of magic theory and development: all ethernanos studies stem from his initial discovery

On that note, he's actually the one who coined the phrase "magic container". He discovered different individuals had different-sized internal containers for holding mana. Most progress in magic deficiency syndrome can be attributed to him

Created several forms of enchantment magic

BUILT A FUCKING TIME MACHINE

Perfected the making and using of lacrimas, whose development can also be tied back to him.

Does strategize incredibly well, if he has the time to think everything through. He likes being thorough and so prefers to make an all-inclusive plan. As you'll see his plans are bat-shit wild and complicated because the man doesn't like loose ends, and also his opponent is MAVIS. Bro can't afford to slip up. I'd say more, but I'd spoil the story -

Weaknesses: He's literally so stupid sometimes

Makes a time machine, it requires a celestial mage to activate it: the celestial wizard dies. Man leaves all twelve keys in the grass where they are lost to space and time. Whoops, no more working time machine.

Literally everything that he did after Mavis died. Literally all of that.

Actively picks fights with Acnologia

Actively pick fights with Natsu

Picks the aforementioned fights and then feels BAD when the fight happens. LIKE BRO -

Anna Heartfilia: Math smart (high-level physics and theoretical calculus), and a strategist/leader. She was privately tutored as a child and had celestial spirits to teach her.

Feats: Math and leadership

Wrote most of the calculations for interdimensional travel when Zeref was building the Eclipse Gate

Is pretty good with calculating angles on the spot, and is fairly accurate when estimating distances (this is a big deal when you're directing spirits with mass destructive power and using abilities that are distance-limited)

Unlike Mavis' strategist side, Anna's strength in strategy was in rehearsing and forethought. She would practice with her spirits on what to do in high-stress situations so they would all know how to react and who to work with. In all honesty, her ability to lead her spirits was what made her so useful on the battlefield.

Practiced for years subdividing her magic container and memorizing how much energy she'd need to summon ALL TWELVE GOLDEN KEYS AT ONCE -

Weaknesses: One must imagine a chaotic perfectionist two seconds away from a nuclear breakdown

Gets too focused on things and will stay up all night. Will forget to eat and drink, in fact.

A perfectionist - will not stop until her calculations make sense

H A T E S writing, spelling, language, etc. Keep that shit away from her

When backed into a corner, and none of her strategies work her next plan is quite literally: RANDOM BULLSHIT GO -

Acnologia: Bro may be illiterate but he's also an actual genius when it comes to magic. Street smarts > School smarts, because fucked up mentors don't send their human weapon to school.

Feats: Anything magic related. I'm not exaggerating. And funny enough, grammar, vocabulary, diction, etc...

Picked up several human languages fairly quickly and has taught himself to read.

An actual GOD when it comes to enchantments and rune recognition, NO ONE knows more than this man

His knowledge on magic is CRAZY, this man can smell what type of magic you use, deduce whether it be elemental, reactionary, or application, and then IMMEDIATELY figure out how to counter it.

Even if he can't EAT the magic you're using, he knows. He knows what to do. You're cooked.

Thinking and strategizing on the spot is literally his thing. He's a terrifying opponent because he's insanely strong AND insanely good at reading his opponents

Weaknesses: Cannot do math

In all fairness, man did not go to school so all academic areas are a lil hard to grasp when you're over three hundred years old

Old man dilemmas: man can and will disarm a seventy-layer enchantment in thirty seconds but PLEASE do not ask him how to use the newfangled screen lacrimas. He bought those for the children and never touched them again -

His options in any social environment are (a) constant sarcasm, (b) ignoring everyone he doesn't know or like, (c) leaving, or (d) leaving, but faster.

Mavis Vermillion: The greatest strategist there ever has been. This is canonical but let's just elaborate shall we. The gal basically had a decade of university-level studies under her belt when she was fifteen. Girl learned to read by opening up Sun Tzu and memorizing it.

Feats:

Won the Trade Wars. I'm not kidding. This is canon. In the fanfiction though, she won the trade wars and didn't ask Acnologia to participate at all, because she literally didn't need him. She is the SOLE reason Fiore is still a country

Her level of strategic comprehension and quick thinking is terrifying. She actively runs simulations in her head, and thanks to her illusion magic (which makes her a god at multitasking), she can predict several outcomes to a TERRIFYING level of accuracy within an insanely short amount of time.

Even if you catch her by surprise (big "if" there, buddy) she's not pre-planning dependent or easily stunned. She can and will have another plan before you can register that you did something good.

GOD LEVELS of poker face when necessary (canon)

Now, thanks to the curse, she can emotionally detach from most conflicts and make riskier and riskier plays to attain victory. The ability to remove her emotion from plans only makes her that much more terrifying

Weaknesses: The poorest loser to ever lose

Literally hates losing. Will not stand for it. Will demand a rematch

She hates surprises and also hates any information that she deems useless. She will and has lectured spies over what counts as "good" intel.

Detaching from your emotions is not always the best thing to do when your "pawns" are your family and friends, but in all fairness when you have Ankserham's curse, it's kind of for the best to leave those affections aside. Still sucks though, and will cause problems

Natsu Dragneel: The man, the myth, the legend himself. No one has the brain for fighting like this fucking idiot.

Feats: FIGHT

Literally can fight without thinking. His subconscious is that in-tune with his body. Erik HATES him.

When he fights and thinks, his mind his canonically like a steel trap. He can pick up on patterns and weaknesses in his opponents that he will utilize. There's no mercy.

I don't usually include being underestimated in feats - but it's important here. Natsu's so good at what he does, it's easy to mistake strategy for raw power, or even dumb luck. Enemies go in thinking they're fighting some arrogant asshole and then get absolutely annihilated by the combat strategist himself

Pain is never a limiting factor. Natsu prevails.

Weaknesses: Bro has ONE brain cell and it flip-flops between wanting to eat and wanting to BRAWL

Focus is not his strong suit. ADHD poster child right here, he will be distracted if he is not locked in

Cannot read (like he can, but not really -)

Does not know how to multiply. DO NOT ask him what a quadratic is, he'll ask if he can eat it.

Can be a little arrogant, but he's kind of earned it

Someone he cares about is in danger? BRO IS GONE! Bro is not strategizing! Bro is IN THERE and no one can stop him. Bro will throw off all your plans and risk everyone else to save one person. It's all or nothing for him.

Like someone else we know, if he's backed in to a corner and doesn't know what to do, he falls back on "RANDOM BULLSHIT GO", but that random bullshit is usually just PUNCH THEM HARDER -

Ur Milkovich: A creative queen like no other. Her creativity in Ice-Make magic is indicative of just how out-of-the-box she can be. Such an ability is easily overlooked, but that creative tenacity IS a game-changer when you're mid-fight.

Feats: Other than just being the best fucking ice mage on the planet? She's cool about it.

Recognizes her own strengths and weaknesses. This may sound obvious but in a world of arrogance or false humility, Ur knows EXACTLY how good she is and what match-ups favor her, as well as which ones don't. Knowing that allows her to pick her fights very well.

Minor spoiler for the fanfic: She will be thinking up some CRAZY ass creative plans in the future. I'm talking chaotic-Ur-certified plans that will actually work. Perks of creative strategy.

You know how the ice mages typically specialize in a form of ice make, whether it be animals or weapons or armor? Yeah no. Ur has it all. Ur can do it all. Imagination? Ur has all of it -

Weaknesses:

She will compromise her strategy for her boys. As soon as Lyon and Gray are involved, all bets are off - she's going in whether it's a good idea or not. Normal Fairy Tail things.

She actually has a shit poker face. She cannot hide her thoughts at ALL

The smallest mention of calculus will get you turned into a popsicle. She'll suffer through science and history but as soon as the numbers get mentioned she's OUT.

Lucy Heartfilia: Quite literally the peak of adaptive learning. I will DIE on this hill

Feats: Lucy ACED every exam she ever took. Jack of trades, LITERALLY -

Her ability to pick up new magics or items and use them is nothing short of impressive. She's not afraid to leave her comfort zone and try something new.

A master at improvised weapons. Literally a M A S T E R-

She can be quick on her feet and has a great reaction time which lets her effectively pick the best spirit for the job. Her gut instincts are solid in battle.

She knows she has a smaller magic container and so is more limited in longevity and magic potential, which means she's very careful about her magic usage - as we've said, being aware of your weaknesses AND taking the steps you need to work around them counts as a strength.

Let's not forget canonically she REWROTE a book of Zeref after reading through it ONCE and learned how to cast Fairy Sphere after seeing it cast (kind of) ONCE

Photographic memory? Oh yeah, that's Lucy.

Knows when to make the tough calls (Aquarius' key)... enough said.

Weaknesses: Confidence and maybe some application

She doubts herself, a lot, and that is reflected in her hesitation to take action.

She hates putting her spirits in harm's way (which is hard to put in the weakness category cause that's literally just her being a good person but it does inhibit her ability to act efficiently as a celestial mage).

She recognizes that her magic container is not as large as those around her but can get too far in her head about how limited she is. Doubt is never a good thing.

Special mentions, in no particular order, I just don't have as many headcanons for them and this shit is getting long:

Erza Scarlet: Same vein as Natsu. Her ability to strategize in combat is INSANE. Realistically, she's actually ranked higher than Natsu because she can read, write, do math, pay bills, and also knows when to NOT run into a fight. But in battle, Natsu has her quick thinking and prowess beat, at least by the end of the series.

Levy McGarden: Same as Lucy, except she's taken photographic memory to the next level. Girl can remember the exact book, page, paragraph, and line number when recalling information. Perks of her magic but also just the perk of being that fucking brilliant. This is also apparent in her magic (which was nerfed in canon but will not be anymore because a BOOK LOVER being able to use ANY WORD is CRAAAAAZY).

Laxus Dreyar: He's here for his reaction time and quick thinking. It's insane. And, as seen in the Grimoire Heart act when he canonically gives his power to Natsu, he has a good foundation on magic pairings and can make sacrificial strategic plays. All in all, solid foundation for smarts and strategy.

Serena: Man has mastered 8 elements and can switch between them with no problem. That takes some brain power. He loses points for being an actual menace to society and picking a fight with Acnologia in his last life. Actually no, he loses points for being THAT arrogant in his first life and dying a single manga panel later.

Wendy Marvel: Has mastered not one, not two, but THREE forms of magic. Healing, Enchantment, AND Offensive. She quite literally has application magic (her enchantments and healing) and elemental magic (dragon slaying) and has mastered BOTH. She does, however, also struggle with confidence and her good nature means she hesitates before inflicting permanent harm.

Erik: Bro can handle reading five people's minds at once and has the multitasking ability anyone would be jealous of. Bro just gets a lil too angry and distracted sometimes. Can also get overwhelmed if he's experiencing a loud noise or a lot of noise. Really, he just loses points for those times when he gets too mad to listen to anything. He gains points back for having zero hesitation when necessary - man will decide someone's free warranty on life has expired with no remorse.

Special, Special Mentions:

Yajima: Man put up with Team Makarov's bullshit, Fairy Tail's bullshit, AND the Magic Council's bullshit without going insane. Is a lawyer by trade, and a friend of Makarov's by choice. That's crazy work right there.

Warrod: Has been committing tax fraud for over a century. Has never gotten caught.

Weisslogia: Was a strategist in the draconic wars and was pretty damn good at it. No, Sting did not inherit that lol.

Tyregenium (OC): Acnologia's master do be that evil sadistic strategist. He loses points for arrogance - and for losing to Acno twice and STILL coming back for more. Also crazy work right there.

[talonabraxas]

The Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara Talon Abraxas

Oṃ Mani Padme Hūṃ / Om Mani Padme Hum

Avalokiteshvara (or Avalokiteśvara) is a Bodhisattva who represents compassion, and his mantra also symbolizes that quality. Avalokiteshvara means “The Lord Who Looks Down (in compassion)”.

There are various forms of Avalokiteśvara (Chenrezig in Tibetan). The four-armed form is shown here. There is also a 1000-armed form — the many arms symbolizing compassion in action. And in the far east, Avalokiteshvara turned into the female Bodhisattva, Kuan Yin.

Avalokiteśvara Mantra Meaning

Oṃ, as I’ve explained elsewhere, has only a mystical meaning — suggesting primordial reality, or the potential for enlightenment that pervades the universe.

Mani means jewel.

adma means lotus (why the form in the mantra is “padme” is explained below).

Huṃ, like Oṃ, has no conceptual meaning.

Both jewels and lotuses are important symbolic elements in Buddhism.

Jewels represent what is most precious, so that Buddhists worship not just the Buddha, but the three jewels (Buddha, Dharma, or the teachings, and Sangha, or spiritual community). and jewels were considered indestructible, which made them an excellent symbol for eternal truths.

The lotus represents purity, in terms of how the enlightened mind is untouched by the negativity of the world. Just as the lotus can exist in muddy water without being soiled, so an enlightened being can exist in an impure world without becoming contaminated by its greed, hatred, or delusion.

The mantra is often “translated” as “Hail to the jewel in the lotus” but the Sanskrit simply can’t mean that.

The central element, manipadme, seems to be a name, Manipadma (“The Jewel Lotus One”) with the -e ending signifying the vocative case, meaning that Manipadma — is being invoked (“O Jewel Lotus One”).

But if this is the case, then according to the rules of classical Sanskrit, then Manipadma would have to be a feminine figure. And Avalokiteśvara is male.

However, if the mantra was originally in a non-Sanskrit language with different grammatical rules, and the vocative -e ending was applicable in that language to a masculine figure, then Manipadma would simply be another name for Avalokiteshvara.

The mantra of Avalokitesvara would then mean “Oṃ, O Jewel Lotus One, Hūṃ” — the “Jewel Lotus One” being an alternative name for Avalokitesvara himself.

The Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara

This multi-limbed approach was taken to another level in the thousand-armed and eleven-headed form of Avalokiteshvara. According to legend, Avalokiteshvara made a vow, in the presence of the Buddha Amitabha, to manifest in all the realms of existence in order to save all sentient beings. He also vowed that if he were to lose his compassion for even a moment, that he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

At one time, having worked tirelessly for the welfare of beings, Avalokiteshvara, at Amitabha’s prompting, looked back and saw that there were still uncountable beings suffering in samsara. At that point he became discourage, fainted, and shattered into a thousand pieces. Amitabha gathered up the pieces and reassembled them into a form with thousand arms and eleven heads.

The eleven heads symbolize the eleven directions of space, suggesting that Avalokiteshvara’s compassionate gaze is infinite in scope. Each of the thousand hands, which are arrayed like an aura around the standing figure of Avalokiteshvara, has an eye in the center of the palm, suggesting that his beneficial activities are informed by transcendental wisdom. Many of the hands bear implements, suggesting the skilful means that Avalokiteshvara employs in saving sentient beings from the sufferings of samsara.

Although he is associated with compassion, Avalokiteshvara is, like all Bodhisattvas, symbolic of wisdom as well. He is connected with the Heart Sutra in particular, and that text is in fact a teaching he gave on the topic of emptiness (shunyata) to Shariputra. He is also associated with the Lotus Sutra.

Avalokiteshvara is the spiritual father of Tara, who is said to have been born from a lotus that grew in a lake formed by the tears he shed as he gazed in compassion at the infinite sufferings of the world.

[hotwaterandmilk]

So I decided to pick up physical copies of The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions from Yen Press on a whim the other day. I've been in such a nostalgia hole about Ragawa's works thanks to the Hanayume 50th celebrations and I remembered her manga adaptation of Konohara Narise's novels had restarted not that long ago. It made sense to get the books and begin a catchup re-read before the fifth volume comes out in English.

I'll be honest, I don't remember much about the Kyuketsuki to Yukai na Nakamatachi novels or manga from when I first encountered them. I had the first two manga volumes in Japanese at one point, but gave them away when the manga went on hiatus years ago. However, upon beginning my catchup re-read in English I was struck by how much the story resonated with me now.

If you've never read the series before now, long story short from Yen Press, "When a vampire from Nebraska named Al gets frozen in bat form, he winds up in Japan under the care of a dark and mysterious man covered in a bloody scent!"

I'd like to get into why I think this series is worth picking up now and for that it's probably easier to throw my ramblings under a cut.

I feel like the humorous elements of the series are what get talked about in the (admittedly scant) English language reviews for the series and, while the whole setup can be quite amusing, the more serious elements are what actually makes it stand out from other vampire tales with romantic elements. While everything is exaggerated, there are some very "real" aspects that help The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions stand out in an endless sea of vampire tales.

For example, Al being bitten by a vampire wasn't a ticket to easy street. There was nothing glamorous about what happened to him. That bite ruined his life and through no fault of is own, he rapidly became destitute. Vampirism in fiction is often shown leading characters to social isolation, but not necessarily to poverty. Given that Al has lost everything that connected him to his previous life, it makes sense that in our current capitalistic society he'd also lose access to even the most basic things our societal identities afford us -- including housing.

So yes, it's amusing that this bat-boy ended up flash frozen and shipped with some meat to Japan. However, the circumstances that led up to that outcome are given the weight they deserve. You truly do feel for Al in these moments because haven't we all been, at one time or another in our lives, perilously close to losing everything? These fleeting glimpses at the past sting in otherwise rollicking segments of the story as they should. Everything beautiful in Al's present is something that he didn't have during his lowest points and you truly feel for him as he works to prolong these moments.

Another serious moment that lifts the series even higher in my eyes is when it becomes aparent that Akira has access to human remains. Rather than handwaving away the access to blood as a convenient way to get Al the nutrition he needs, a significant amount of time is dedicated to the ethics surrounding the situation. The gravity with which all lives should be handled post-mortem and just a generally respectful examination of embalming as a process.

Unsurprisingly, I find the portrayal of Al's "incomplete" vampirism as a form of disability to be a compelling take on the mythos too. Al gets almost none of the "benefits" of being a vampire due to the whole process "not being done properly." What this leaves him with are a lot of things that make his everyday life different from not just humans, but "complete" vampires as well.

These differences mean he struggles to feed himself properly, feels significant levels of pain, and his body is often weak or doesn't behave the way he wants it to. The cause here is obviously fiction, but the way Al's acquired disability impacts his capacity to function to an acceptable level in a society of "normal" folks (both human and vampire) really struck me as ringing true, at least for myself and my own disabilities.

Yeah, I'm not going to turn into an adorable bat (and truly, bat Al is A D O R A B L E) but the struggle to make use of the few good hours in a day when my body works to a degree, that's so goddamn real. Al wants to contribute to the household, to pay back Akira and to be a functioning member of society... but it's not as straightforward for him as it is for others and that's something I appreciate being explored here.

Another thing that stands out to me is Akira's sexuality. While there are a lot of misunderstandings with Al and Akira that lead to people assuming they're lovers, when Akira is pushed into a corner about having a lover he shuts this down by describing himself as being frigid or having a low libido (in very blunt language).

I feel like the depth of this is conveyed well in the English translation by the subsequent line:

While at this point in the series Akira hasn't labeled his sexuality as being either demisexual or asexual, this is definitely something that it feels like the narrative is leaning towards. Particularly when Al clarifies the difference, in his limited language skills, between the physical and the romantic.

Akira is still figuring out what is comfortable for him in terms of dealing with people, so it makes sense that his progress regarding intimacy has only accelerated after meeting Al. The batty vampire is pushing him towards understanding more about himself and how he chooses to interact with those around him, but the ball is still very much in Akira's court regarding whether he'd like to explore either the physical or emotional aspects of their relationship further. I found that really refreshing?

That this story allows the dark-haired, brooding hero who is one part of our lead will-they-or-won't-they, to assert that he doesn't feel the same level of physical attraction that others do. That he isn't entirely confident in this either, that it's a part of himself he's never opened up about before, that it's something Al uncovers and isn't suddenly changed to fit what is acceptable. But that it doesn't lessen Al's interest in him, it's just part of who Akira is... gah! It really resonated with me idk. I love some smut, but I also appreciate it when a story focused on something as sexual as vampirism chooses to eschew this in favour of raw emotional edging instead.

I've pushed the more serious elements of the text in this ramble, but before I wrap up I should really note that there are some very funny moments too. For example, Al's bluntness here when he speaks Japanese.

The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions isn't the best work of vampire fiction I've ever read, but it uses its recurring themes of isolation vs. the need for connection to craft an enjoyable narrative. One that I feel lingers in my mind a bit more than others. While Al's unique form of vampirism leads to some absurd escapades, the story is elevated by having its emotional core remain grounded in the intrinsic beauty of everyday human interaction and how even fundamentally different people can connect in small but significant ways.

Blah blah blah, you should check it out, I can't wait for the next volume, etc.

[bitch-butter]

i've had it: a Web-focused analysis of episode 8

my babes, my babes, what can I say?

Over the years I’ve seen a lot of people saying that in “The Patrol” aka “The Last Patrol” Web is depicted as “trying to get himself taken off the patrol ”. Many long years I have rested, but now i have, in all essences, Had It with that take in light of my recent brush with death (not really, but it adds some gravitas right?).

It's Everybody's right to their own opinion, but I am here to host a Formal Rebuttal of this pervasive interpretation, because I never (even in my pre-webgott days) read That Scene as such, and I feel that this reading makes even Less sense within the full portrait of the episode. I will defend my stance with appropriate screengrabs, but unfortunately due to Max being made singularly of butts and capitalist dupes I am not able to screengrab anything that isn’t already grabbed or put on Youtube. I have much, but not Everything, so bear with me.

(This will not be a litigation of why the episode chooses to detract in myriad ways from the historical record, but suffice it to say that this episode makes a lot of choices re: who was on the patrol, why they were on the patrol, and who showed up when that are not Exactly accurate but does suit the story that they were endeavoring to tell. I’ll leave it at That.)

So, let’s get into it.

I. What is this episode about?

I spoke “briefly” but not that articulately about why episode 8 is my favorite episode on my good friend Sarah’s podcast last year, and I still stand by many of my reasons for doing so, but I’d like to highlight one element in particular. 

This episode is coming hot off of the heels of one of the most harrowing episodes we’ve seen up to this point, “The Breaking Point”, and in that episode we see not only exactly what it has cost our guys to be in the Bois Jacques for so long, but we also see how this has in many ways made their bonds with each other even closer. They leave that conflict feeling tired, overworked and underfed, and incredibly protective of one another, and because we the audience got to see that we in turn feel protective of them as well.

Which is why I find the choice for Web being the main protagonist of the episode so inspired. 

We are thrust immediately from this harrowing experience, as well as the lived-in dynamic with our main guys, into following a guy who disappeared from the show entirely in episode 5, which not only makes us suspicious of him but it runs up against our instincts to bond with our protagonist. We know immediately, even if we’re on a first or second watch, that Web was not in the Bois Jacques because of the visual language used to characterize him as well as his own opening narration, and as such we immediately don’t want anything to do with him because we too feel protective over our guys who were in the actual fight and we don’t want to waste our time with guys who don’t get it. 

Trust and belonging. Those are the core themes of the episode in my opinion, and we see it with several characters (Lt. Jones and Web are in much the same boat because they have no trust and they don’t belong and so they have to earn them both back; Vest is trusted but he doesn’t belong not only because he’s not a guy the audience is that familiar with but because his job in the context of the show removes him from being that close to our core group). The episode is as much about those things as it is also about combat weariness, how our main guys are acclimating to the idea of the end being near, as well as the ultimate brutality and inhumanity of war on a micro level (Web’s ending monologue is a great example of this, and read in conjunction with Sink’s decision to try and send the patrol out again is a pretty good indictment of the depersonalized and mechanic way war works for a lot of people). 

So, in essence, this episode is about getting the other guys, as well as the audience, to trust Web. 

II. Web is a Good Character (you guys are just Mean)

How do you get the audience to trust your character (even if they don’t like him)?

They manage to accomplish this at least in part by trying to show us that even if his plans are lackluster his intentions are good, such as his initial - albeit inappropriate - happiness at greeting everyone, his reveal of who was being initially selected for the patrol, and his successful attempt to get Malarkey taken off the patrol. We see a few times that his actions have consequences, but for the most part we are able to Understand the train of thought that informs the choice. He sees that the other guys are distrustful of him and no longer want him around due to his absence from the previous episodes, something that clearly throws him off balance, and so we can progress through episode 8 with his primary motivation being to get the core group to trust him again and as such regain his sense of belonging.

We see it right away in the episode, where he greets the other guys only to be quickly dismissed and chastised for assuming a familiarity that is no longer there, and again we can infer from Eion Bailey’s performance that he not only understands that he’s made a mistake but is already internalizing that his decision to remain at the hospital was most likely the incorrect decision. 

This goes directly into the motivation for telling his fellow platoon members that some of them have been selected for a patrol that most likely will be disastrous, which we can clearly see he doesn’t want to do but does in order to attempt to gain his footing back within their ranks. 

This isn’t entirely successful, as the other guys seem to read it more as Web being first annoying at not wanting to tell them and then secondly unreliable because he told them in the first place. And again, we can read in Bailey’s performance that he quickly realizes that regaining his standing is not going to be as simple as he thought that it would be. 

His next attempt at ingratiating himself is tied inextricably to the issue at hand. To reiterate, we the audience as well as our characters of interest have become protective over one another in the wake of the previous episode, and one of the characters who comes out of “The Breaking Point” particularly fragile is Malarkey. We have context for his emotional placement that bleeds out from the previous episode, and a lot of visual weight is given to the fact that Malarkey in particular is exhausted, depressed, and would benefit heavily from a brief respite from being on the front lines. Other characters express this sentiment In Webster’s Direction, and in search of another way to endear himself to the rest of the platoon he sets out to kill two birds with one stone by i. Getting Malarkey off the patrol ii. Getting Lt. Jones the experience he needs to hop up the ranks and go away. 

This attempt is successful, but backfires again when Martin is placed in charge of the patrol instead of Jones. It is possible Web should have anticipated that due to the other man’s inexperience they wouldn’t have let him lead it to begin with, but we the audience should ideally still be interpreting at least the initial intention of the decision to be a good one. He sees that the other guys want Malarkey off the patrol, so he gets Malarkey off the patrol.

This brings us to the moment in question.

III. Let’s Break it Down: Part Un

INTERIOR - A ROOM IN lol i’m joking but what if i did do it like that 

It is quickly revealed that Web’s plan has failed, at least in part. Martin has been appointed to lead the patrol, and is clearly no more eager to do it than anybody else is (except Lt. Jones), and Web clearly looks remorseful towards putting him in Malarkey’s place.

In an act of revenge he appoints Web to be translator, and Web is also not that jazzed about it but appears to accept it with a Tiny Little joke. 

The scene progresses to planning the attack, and we get a few visual cues to indicate that this is a no good very bad idea and everybody hates it before the meeting ends and we hear Liebgott make a jab at Web’s attempt at a joke re: his German capabilities, to which Web gives my favorite reaction in the whole episode where he clearly wants to look directly at the camera like he’s on The Office and clowns his way out of the room.

Hard cut to everybody leaving the building, with a few of our guys in the background as Web moves into the foreground away from them (he wants to be with the cool kids but he’s Not one of the cool kids). We hear but don’t entirely see Grant saying the line “Webster. Tries to get out of everything”, but it’s loud enough that we can assume Web himself also hears this, and he has a small moment of looking back at them in response before he advances to address the officers. 

He points out that both he and Liebgott speak German, and we the audience infer that having the two guys who speak German on the same patrol would be a bad idea because both of them could get taken out and then the company would be shit out of luck. Speirs is quick on his feet, and as Liebgott, Grant, and Jackson pass by he stops them and tells Liebgott he can sit this one out. Liebgott accepts, winks at Web, and gives him a joking thanks. 

Web gives him a tiny half-smile, thanks the officers, and walks away, clearly not loving the fact that he’s going but not appearing resentful.

FINIS

That’s the scene of the crime. So, with this narrative context, let’s get to our second suspect.

IV. The Liebgott of it All

In black and white terms, the principal Antagonist to our Protagonist in this episode is Liebgott, even if we can all agree he’s a king and Web is Himself. 

In Web’s intro to the episode he’s the character we see giving him the hardest time about being away from the company, when Web is gearing up to spill the beans about the patrol Liebgott is the one stirring the pot, and in the patrol meeting he’s the one making fun of Web for downplaying his German. Liebgott gets more weight in this episode than he has in any previous episode, and we are meant to extract from their numerous interactions that even if Liebgott is a guy that has been mostly on the fringes throughout the show up to this point he is going to be the one that makes the ultimate decision about whether or not Web will be accepted back into the group. 

We have an automatic trust for Liebgott because we’ve seen and known him from the very first episode, he’s had individual moments sprinkled throughout the show, and narratively we’ve mostly seen him displaying his competency, humor, and principles. These are all things that the audience is missing in a relationship with Web, so like the other guys we’ll trust Liebgott’s assessment of Web more than we’ll likely trust Web’s intentions at face value. This gets tricky, because Liebgott is not immune to his own pettiness, and even if he Was capable of reading Web’s actions in good faith he is still going to have reservations because up to this point we have no reason not to think that Web stayed out of the fight On Purpose. 

So, Liebgott gives Web a ton of shit throughout the episode, and the audience can take that as an indication that Web is not worthy of regaining his place in the group. Web also seems to realize this. If he wants to be back in the mix the person he’s really going to need to impress is Liebgott. As it goes on Liebgott’s exact intentions with Web are a little dubious, because at some points he does seem to internalize that he may be being too harsh or too resistant on Web. After Web gets outed as having told the other guys about the patrol Liebgott appears reserved, not taking pleasure in his embarrassment.

And after hearing Chuck’s pivotal line we can hear Liebgott brush it off with a “whatever” as he clearly looks towards Web in the foreground.

There are things at play in regards to how Liebgott is feeling about his own pettiness towards Web, but whatever reservations he has are not powerful enough up to this point that we take too much notice. 

This, Web’s knowledge of it, as well as the throwaway line from Chuck, all inform the decision to approach the officers after the patrol meeting.  

V. Let’s Break it Down: Part Deux (boogaloo électrique)

What We Know: Web is ostracized from the group and is trying to get back in, Liebgott in particular doesn’t want Web back in the group because he’s missed a formative event for the company and feels he doesn’t deserve it, and there’s a patrol that nobody wants to go on because They’re Tired looming in the distance. 

With what we know (above), what we know happens in the scene (see part III), who these characters are plus their narrative intentionality (parts II and IV), and what the episode is presumably supposed to be about (part I), gives us a pretty clear indication of what Web’s intentions are when he approaches the officers. Web wants to be back in the group, Liebgott is the one he has to convince, and to put a cherry on top he clearly hears Chuck talking smack by saying he tries to get out of everything. 

He prompts the officers by pointing out that Liebgott speaks German as well, and we Must assume he does this with the understanding that there’s no way they would take him off of the patrol over Liebgott. 

Though we’ve seen Web make plans and have them backfire we can’t infer that he’s that stupid just based on what the show has told us about Web thus far. Socially awkward? Yes. Stupid? Not really. 

There would be no way he’d think they would take him off and keep Liebgott on, and he already approaches with the knowledge that if he does earnestly try to remove himself from the patrol that would forever damage his standing in the company and he would never, ever be able to get back in with the core group. You know, that thing that’s motivating everything he does in the episode. 

It wouldn’t make sense in any measure for Web to be going up to them trying to get himself removed. It wouldn’t flow with his actions in the episode, his motivations, Liebgott’s mini-arc of excluding him, and it certainly would not serve the overarching themes of the episode which are Trust and Belonging. 

The perfect button to this conflict is the wink that Liebgott gives Web after being told he can stay behind. There’s a brief moment where he Just looks at Web, and there’s a definite understanding that moves between them that this isn’t the end of the road for Web’s attempts to get back in but that an Important Step has just been taken. 

Web gives him that half-smile, accepts that his work is not done, and they move to their separate corners. 

The culmination of these sort of swirling themes comes during the patrol, when we get a few different moments of Liebgott waiting across the river displaying clear alarm at what he’s seeing. 

Given our context for Liebgott in this episode, and his primary relationship within it being with Web, we can assume this is the moment his feelings about letting Web back into the fold turn. He sees Web took him off the patrol, is now in a precarious position, and as we’ve had a few flashes of his backtracking his own pettiness towards Web we can assume this is the final straw. 

He was fine holding out on Web up to this point, but he doesn’t actually want anything bad to happen to him just because he indirectly influenced Web into proving himself (even if Web was always going to be trying to prove himself). 

So with the completion of the patrol two big things have occurred: Web has weathered a harrowing experience that cost the life of a beloved member of the company and as such got a small, small taste of what the rest of the company experienced in the Bois Jacques, and Liebgott has come to accept that Web’s intentions are good and he can be trusted again.

After this occurrence we see that at least as far as the other guys in the group Web is - for the most part - accepted back. Martin defends him against Cobb, and in that we can assume that the heavy lifting portion of Web's attempts to rejoin Easy have been successful. But the main character that Web, as well as the audience, is interested in is Liebgott. He's presented the greatest barrier to acceptance, and a lot of weight has been placed on he and Web's dynamic in the episode, so we have to wait and see how he will react to Web's newfound acceptance.

That leads them both perfectly to the end of the episode, where our visual cue to this is given: Web approaches the transport, Liebgott offers him his hand, Web takes it. 

Poetic Cinema.

Web has regained trust, and once again he belongs.

VI. I've Had It

I own the fact that I’m feral about this episode and for the most part people don’t seem to like it that much, which is fine and I’m not here to convert anybody. Additionally, I own the fact that Web is my son and I think he’s hilarious and everybody else thinks he’s The Worst. However, I just don’t think that This particular criticism holds much water when we give it the actual reading that we’re meant to be giving it with the weight of the narrative, what we’re being told about individual characters, and the overall themes of the episode. 

The truth is the truth, and we can’t All be champs. 

Lol jk bc truly if you feel as strongly about this as i do (which seems doubtful lol) I am not anti-debate and I would welcome hearing why people seem so Deeply convinced of Web doing all of this just to try and get himself taken off the patrol. 

(Answers I will Not accept are the kind that use Web being annoying as a basis for a read on his character motivations because girls that’s Not It.)

And so it is ~

[hoidn]

okay so i watched all eight episodes of 1899 in one go on monday and i cannot stop Having Thoughts. quite honestly it is the most superbly executed narrative i've ever encountered outside of literature. the sheer thematic scope and complexity is breathtaking. THEY WROTE A GREEK TRAGEDY about all my favourite things and it begins with an emily dickinson poem. !!! the universe was aiming its arrow right at my brain with this one.

(so of course it wasn't renewed. given that la révolution also wasn't renewed, i'm forced to conclude that tptb at netflix have something against thoughtful and nuanced excellence in storytelling.)

this is one of those times i especially miss metafandom because i'm sure there've been discussions about everything my brain is yelling at me but how the hell does one find the good shit anymore? or even the bad shit, for that matter. so here you go, tumblr frēonds, have yet another brain dump that nobody asked for or cares about.

a list of topics covered by 1899 that i recall after watching the entire thing once, in no particular order:

the nature of identity

the nature of reality

how grief warps both the self and the perception of reality

the often inexplicable nature of trust

the human brain's capabilities

the inherent untrustworthiness of memory and the irony that it's all we have

explorations of female identity

the many meanings of freedom

communication!! — trying to understand and be understood through barriers of language, of levels of reality, of technology

the destructive nature of religious zealotry (and christianity in general *internal sigh*)

classism

patriarchy

homophobia (both social and internalised)

the beautiful and horrific acts humans will commit in the name of love

the looming shadow of the male authority figure

space as a concept, both literal and psychological: liminal spaces, confinement

'the odyssey', obviously

the trope of the mad woman in the attic (this one gets its own post because I Have A Lot To Say)

now let's talk ancient greek references!

[1] the names of both ships come from ancient greek mythology: prometheus stole fire from the gods to give to humans and was sentenced to eternal punishment; kérberos (or cerberus) was the multi-headed dog who guarded the gates of the underworld to prevent the dead from leaving.

[2] in ancient greek philosophy, there were four classical elements; this concept was taken up in western alchemy, which made a hobby out of giving everything a glyph or symbol. the symbols of the four elements are triangles:

🜂 = fire 🜄 = water 🜁 = air 🜃 = earth

[3] it's been four months since the prometheus went missing. what, i wondered, is the significance of the number 4? in greek numerals 4 is represented as Δ´. oh, look, a triangle. and what's a triangle in three-dimensional space? a pyramid. and what's a pyramid geometrically speaking? a tetrahedron! which has 4 faces and 4 vertices. it's also the smallest possible platonic solid and plato associated it with the element fire. i don't know enough about geometry or philosophy to take these associations any further, but, as shakespeare would say, come the futtock on. this level of detail is RIDICULOUS and EVERYTHING TO ME.

[miainbetween]

No one asked but I’m answering the rest of the questions (that i can answer) from this ask game.

💌 — who confessed first and how did it happen?

It was probably Max because he’s this confident kind of person and if he sees i feel comfortable, he would probably just do it because he knows that I’m too shy to do it first.

🪽 — what is your s/o from? (made-up, media, book, movie etc…) and why did you feel drawn to them?

He's from the Love Island game, like one of those scenarios, and he was a casa boy. And I don't know what got to me, but the moment that I saw him, I just knew that this is my person. And ever since I've been creating scenarios with him, like developing his character in my head, and yeah. Now I've got my future husband.

Shoutout to my best friend who showed me this game. She was actually ahead of me in the game and she was like, okay I see this boy in Casa Amor and I feel like he's just your type. And now I'm just like, girl you have no idea.

💄 — what are petnames you have for eachother?

I feel like he uses more pet names than me because I sometimes feel weird about pet names, like me specifically using them, but he often says love, darling, sweetheart. I'd probably propose doll, because why not? Sounds cool. And he calls me Mia.💗💗 Like, that's his nickname for me ever since he met me, and it has become my favorite way of being addressed. For me, I probably would call him love and lybov (the bulgarian word for love).

Also, he’s so sneaky with calling me Mia because— OK at first he didn’t know but in Italian Mia means mine right? And I if I asked him, he would just smile at me… Possessive much?

🤍 — what are your love languages VS. your s/o’s? How do you show theirs and how do they show yours?

My love language, like my top love language, is physical touch. And it's amazing because his also is physical touch. Like, I love hugs and just holding hands and like playing with someone's hand. But I feel like his physical touch is like on a whole another level because he would never let go of me if I'm near or around him. Like he would be touching my knee, my thigh, maybe my shoulder, maybe my hair, just touching something. And it's honestly making me the happiest girl.

Another love language of mine would probably be active service. And he’s the type to start lmaking me coffee or tea or just breakfast in bed and this is something that I love like I'm actually looking forward to it and whenever I'm not feeling okay he’d take care of everything. He would just also he buys me flowers every week and set them somewhere in his apartment because I'm always there and he does that every week without me having to tell him something… like WHAT DO YOU MEAN??

Another love language of mine, I feel like, is words of affirmation, and he's so good at that. He’s very vocal about his thoughts and feelings and everything. He says everything that he thinks, and i like that so much about him especially because he is also super considerate. And another love language of his is probably quality time. And I feel like, even if we're not doing something extremely special like a date, just being in each other's presence is very nice for him. And also for me.

💍 — what are some songs that makes you think of them?

Electric feel by mgmt

Let’s stay together by Al Green

My love by justin timberlake (YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ITS THE MOST HIM SONG EVER)

For crying out loud! by finneas

Beat it by Michael Jackson

Naked by James Arthur 

What’s the matter with you by lexi jade

Did I mention from descendants?

Steal the show from elemental

Beauty and a beat by Justin Bieber

Everywhere everything by Noah Kahan 

🦢 — what do you see in the future for you and your s/o?

We will be married and have three kids :D

👠 — what is your ideal date night with your s/o?

I feel like the best dates that we have that fit both of us really well, like characters, is going to a bar where there is like a gig or something and just dancing. I love rooftop bars, that is my most favorite thing. But because there you cannot really talk that much, we’d take a walk after, maybe stop by a bookstore. But it has to have a little bit of this excitement and then the calm.

🗒 — who is your s/o and what are some photos you really like of them?

MAX TAYLOR ❤️❤️❤️

💋 — what are you most excited to experience with your s/o and why?

Honestly, I just cannot wait to experience him. Because I have not been there yet consciously (I just refuse to say that I have not shifted there) Mostly, I'm looking forward to the slow mornings when neither of us has work the next day or me — university. And we just, stay in bed and watch each other and maybe talk? Also, nights like that. I cannot wait. And just the quiet moments in his apartment.

🍒 — do you have any inside jokes with your s/o or funny scenarios?

He probably comments on the spicy books that I read and also moments where I’m making him act like a book boyfriend or just pin me like one…

🍷 — what do your s/o and you like to do together?

Sleep, shower, cook, eat Thai food, get dressed, dance.

🪞 — what are some photos that depict your relationship with your s/o?

❤️‍🩹 — what does your s/o smell like?

Well, he smells of him and faintly of cologne, like the male but not too heavy type of smell that is magnetic, kind of fresh and slightly woody. I cannot describe what exactly the smell is, but that's what it feels like. And sometimes if he is coming back straight from work, from the music studio, he would smell of smoke if he was out with the smokers (he doesn’t smoke just keeps them company)

💭 — who was the first person you told after getting with your s/o?

The first person that I knew that me and Max were together was Kalina, my best friend. Because she was also there the night that we met. And I've been freaking out about him to her, like, simping basically. So she's the first one that I knew. Because we probably met the next day, and I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

[fiadhvance]

fiadh the filí

the filid

a filí is a member of the elite poet class the filid, with filid being the plural of filí.

they are an elite group of poets in the riverlands, stemming from ancient clover traditions.

the filid are important figures within riverlands society. with most of the population being illiterate, it is their job to pass on and preserve oral traditions, relay current news, and teach important historical events through poems and storytelling. they are renown for their accuracy, authenticity and reliability.

while primarily known to the masses as poets, the filid are also seanchaí (historians)

a filí may also involve themselves in politics - a lord may choose to patronise a filí, and have them advise them on political matters or to keep them updated with current events. it is an unspoken rule for lord to treat the filí with respect and reward them handsomely for their work, as the filid all talk to one another and can portray lords in a positive or negative way to neighbouring leaders.

people of any gender or status may become a member of the filid.

the hierarchy of the filid

within the filid, there are seven classes. once, all filid served several functions - magicians, lawgivers, judges, councillors, and poets. over time, this divided, and the classes emerged.

the lowest class is the bard, which all filí begin as. the brehon focus on the study of law and political advisement, and druids on more fantastical and supernatural elements. there is a class simply known as filí, which devotes itself to storytelling, history and philosophy. other classes include the cli, which is reserved for those who reach a particular level of fame or notoriety, and the cana, an evolution of the filí class who are the most accomplished.

the highest class of filid is the ollam (the word ollamh meaning master poet). the ollam is made up of several túath ollams, local leaders of the filid, and is headed by the ollamh érenn, the head ollam and leader of the filid. the only requirement for becoming an ollam is to have been a member of the filid for at least twelve years, and have proven themselves amongst both the filid and the people at large.

ollams also serve as teachers to children, though they do not accept payment for this.

amongst themselves, the filid speak their own language - bérla na filed, meaning the language of poets.

the powers of the filid

the word filí means "to see", and it is believed all filí possess the power of divination. the ollam and druids do, though their methods are a secret even to other members.

it is also believed some filí have the ability not just to predict but to influence future events, particularly if they take a disliking to a lord and choose to portray him negatively, with some saying earning their ire places a curse on the family.

some believe the filí have a connection to the otherworld and the dead, with the most skilled able to pierce the veil between worlds. a filí with this ability is saidto be able to give voice to the dead and carry messages between worlds.

fiadh and the filí

fiadh was inducted into the filid at the age of fourteen, the youngest ever person to do so, and she currently belongs to the filí class.

it is rumoured she might soon be promoted to ollam, and again will be one of the youngest to reach the rank.

it is not believed that fiadh possesses any supernatural gifts that some filí claim, though her deep desire to preserve the past may be a hint to a connection with the dead.

[maziijapanese]

Mastering Kanji as a Visual Learner: A Practical Guide

Learning Kanji can feel like a daunting task for many Japanese learners, and understandably so. With thousands of characters to memorize, each holding unique meanings and pronunciations, Kanji often presents a major hurdle. However, for visual learners, mastering Kanji can be made easier through effective techniques and tools tailored to their learning style. In this blog, I’ll share my personal experience and strategies for learning Kanji visually.

1. Visual Flashcards: The Cornerstone of Learning

For a visual learner, flashcards are one of the most effective tools for committing Kanji to memory. But instead of just plain text, I recommend using visual flashcards that incorporate:

Images: Relate the Kanji to images that symbolize the meaning of the character. For example, for the Kanji 木 (tree), you could include an image of a tree to strengthen the mental association.

Definitions: Keep the meaning of the Kanji in mind by clearly including it on the flashcard.

Pronunciations: Adding the readings, both Kun'yomi and On'yomi, will help you remember how to say the characters.

Contextual Examples: Use the Kanji in simple sentences or phrases so that you can recognize how it is used in context.

By combining these visual elements, your brain can make connections between the Kanji’s shape, meaning, and usage. Flashcards are a great way to make learning active and engaging.

2. Leverage Memorization Techniques: The Leitner System

While visual flashcards are essential, combining them with the right memorization method is what will ensure long-term retention. One such technique is the Leitner System, a spaced repetition method designed to make you focus on what’s most difficult.

Here’s how it works:

Start by sorting Kanji into five categories based on difficulty.

If you remember a Kanji correctly, it moves up to a higher level.

If you forget it, it moves back to a lower level.

You review the Kanji from the lower levels more frequently than those in the higher ones, ensuring more attention to challenging characters.

This structured approach helps keep your review sessions efficient and prevents the overwhelm that can come from reviewing hundreds of Kanji at once.

3. SRS (Spaced Repetition System) for Optimized Learning

Spaced Repetition Systems (SRS) are another effective strategy that works hand-in-hand with visual flashcards. SRS adjusts the review intervals of each Kanji based on how well you know it. The idea is to review characters right before you’re about to forget them, which helps embed them into your long-term memory.

Popular apps like Anki or Mazii utilize this principle, and they often allow you to add images and examples, perfect for visual learners.

4. Consistent Practice: The Key to Mastery

While tools and techniques are essential, consistent practice is what will ultimately lead to mastery. Setting a daily or weekly routine that includes reviewing your flashcards, writing out Kanji by hand, and practicing Kanji in context (such as reading or writing) is crucial. Progress may be slow, but steady, and over time, you will begin to recognize more and more characters.

Conclusion

Mastering Kanji as a visual learner is all about tapping into your strengths. Using visual flashcards enhanced with images, incorporating the Leitner system, and taking advantage of SRS technology will streamline your learning process and make it more enjoyable. With the right tools and consistent effort, you’ll find that Kanji, once a challenging obstacle, becomes an integral part of your Japanese language journey.

Keep at it, and soon you’ll unlock the richness of Japanese through Kanji!

[hollywoodstcr]

⊹₊  ⋆  (  michelle yeoh,  cis woman,  she/her,  60,  nicole kidman cc  )  i  think  victoria li elliot just  walked  by!  wow,  they  really  are  a michelle yeoh   lookalike!  they’ve  been  here  in  new  york  city  for  35 years,  and  seem  to  always  have  their emerald ring on them.  i  heard  they  made  their 250M  fortune as  an  actress,  and  are  often  associated  with  the lingering scent of expensive perfume, diamond rings adorning slender fingers, old wine corks & empty champagne flutes.  let’s  hope  the  world  doesn’t  find  out ( REDACTED ).

GENERAL DETAILS

full name:  victoria li elliot.

nickname(s): vi, vivi.

name meaning: victorious.

age: 60.

date of birth: september 13th.

place of birth: kuala lumpur, malaysia.

current location: manhattan.

ethnicity: chinese.

gender: cis woman.

pronouns: she/her.

sexual orientation: heterosexual.

romantic orientation: heteroromantic.

religion: buddhist.

occupation: actress.

education level: university graduate.

extracurricular: tba.

living arrangements: lives in a large penthouse in the upper east side’s carnegie hill neighborhood with her husband.

financial status: multi-millionaire; 250 million dollar net worth.

speaking voice and accent: malaysian accent.

spoken languages: english, malay, cantonese & mandarin.

voiceclaim: michelle yeoh.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

faceclaim: michelle yeoh.

hair color and style: long dark brown hair that reaches the middle of her back.

complexion: tba.

eye color: brown.

eyesight: 

height: 163cm.

weight: tba. 

body and build: slim, but toned.

tattoos: none.

piercings: double piercings on both ear lobes.

clothing style: classic & chic with a bit of an edge.

distinguishing characteristics: 

signature scent: tba.

HEALTH

mental disorder(s): anxiety. she suffered with postpartum depression after all of her pregnancies.

physical disorder(s): tba.

allergies: none.

sleeping habits: light sleeper.

eating habits: tba.

sociability: very social.

body temperature:  

addictions: she doesn’t think she has a problem, but she would be considered addicted to pills.

drug use: prescription painkillers; usually oxycodone or any others she can get her hands on.

alcohol use: regular drinker.

PERSONALITY

label(s): the hollywood icon.

positive traits: charismatic, clever, generous, loving.

negative traits: self-critical, secretive, aloof, meticulous.

likes: travel,

dislikes:  

fears:  

habits: 

goals and ambitions: 

astrology: virgo sun, gemini moon, scorpio rising.

personality type:  

moral alignment: chaotic neutral.

element: water.

primary vice: alcohol, sex & drugs.

primary virtue:  

weather: rain & thunder.

color: red.

music: kate bush, joni mitchell, blondie.

beverage: red wine.

food: laksa & murtabak.

animal: leopard.

season: fall.

RELATIONSHIPS

mother: tba.

father: tba.

significant other: richard elliot ( first name is just a placeholder until the wc gets filled! )

best friend: tba.

exes: tba.

sibling(s): three.

children: three; aged 21, 30 & 33.

extended family: tba.

pet(s): two dogs.

BACKSTORY

born in malaysia to chinese parents, victoria li spent the first 13 years of her life in kuala lumpur before moving to hong kong with her family, which is where she lived until the age of 18.

after graduating high school, she moved to the uk to study drama at university. her acting career began in london, before making the move to los angeles to pursue her hollywood dreams.

after hustling for several months in the city, she credits her big break to a very famous film director after meeting him by chance at a party. he gave her big break in a film that exceeded expectations at the box office and is now considered a cult classic.

a few months after moving to los angeles, she met the man who would eventually become her husband — he is also very famous in the film industry and the pair are considered hollywood’s power couple.

35 years later, victoria is a household name and one of the most prolific actresses in the world and has an incredibly impressive filmography that most actors could only ever dream of. she is the recipient of two oscars, six golden globes, two emmy awards and a BAFTA.

she has three children with her husband, whom she absolutely adores and dotes on. despite her incredibly busy career, she will always make time for her family.

her marriage isn’t as perfect as the world believes, and she’s currently having an affair with another man ( wanted connection )!

[ultimavela]

If you have read my previous posts you can guess that part of my intention is to write about everything that is linked to “Dead Holy Towns” before talking about the procedures to build these adventuring locations. This is because the tables and methods of construction of these dungeon-like locations (that I created for NPFTH) required defining the type of creatures that inhabit them and other elements of these towns (which I didn't want to do in the same post where I will show you how to build them, both because this means I would put an effort of months in one post and because that would have meant writing a gigantic post).

But there is one more thing I was missing to mention.

In all the previous posts I have always made reference to the Chasm, which I have presented as this energy that emerges from the gap that exists between the cosmologies of the inhabitants of the island and the invaders from the north.

Being “Dead Holy Towns” locations fed by the Chasm, this twisted energy/magic is present there in a much more concentrated way than in other places. So I thought that if the Chasm was able to transform an entire town and its inhabitants, would also, probably, have a permanent effect on anyone stepping into the grounds of a “Dead Holy Town”

From these came the idea of creating “Chasm’s scars”, marks that will be a way to give “aesthetic” variety to the characters, tap into the weirdness by giving them magical consequences, and also hint to others that they have ventured into areas of the Chasm (something that can give rise to more interesting interactions with other that are searching to control or understand these energies).

So this post started like this, just a small entry to show you the “Chasm’s scars” so then I could jump to the final post of the “how” to build “Dead Holy Towns”. But then I realized that there were two other ways —that I had already written on the game—through which the character's history would mark their bodies, and I thought that presenting them all together would make more sense in case you want them to use them in your games.

So here they are, three ways in which the decisions, past, and histories of the characters can mark their bodies, and sometimes, make them look cool

Signs of the skin

You can have them, but they may give information about your life to people that knows how to read them.

Spots, stripes, and other signs on the skin are vestiges of the most ancient tribes of the south and the many different species that once inhabited the island.

It is said that people once carried their destinies on their skin.

Those who knew how to read them recognized in these spots, lines, and curves, every important event of their life, and so they will include the emotions they felt during these crucial moments as a new letter and concept to their language, following the shape of the sign on their skin.

It was believed that when all the signs of a person's skin were lived, they knew that the time had come, and so their lives ended by their will, to became tales and teachings, as their skins were treated to become one of the many scrolls of memory stored in the “library of lives”.

Marks of the fungi nest

These marks give you permanent conditions and powers.

A purple mist always covers the shallow ravine, filled with fungi and mosses.

Here the fungi dominate, extending their mycelium as fingers that spread underground, touching the secrets beneath the earth and reaching to the shallower levels of the Underbelly. Is a labyrinth of thick multi-color life. At its core, the great nest awaits those who want to be part of something larger.

Those who decide to leave the nest are marked for their entire lives by inconspicuous amalgam between flesh, fungi, algae, and mosses, without having aged a single day since they united with the nest.

If you were part of the nest: You were expelled by it or did you decide to leave it? Why?

How has your body changed due to the nest?

When rolling on the table you can change only two rolls by -1.

The outcome, if there is one, of the entries on “something changing” will be determined by the GM.

Scars from the Chasm

These scars are permanent expressions of the Chasm bound to your body and soul, which can grant you chaotic powers that are difficult to channel.

The Chasm is the gap that lies between the world as seen by invaders of the north and the people of Isla Grande. From it something emerges, a kind of energy that mutates living beings, transforms the world around it, and empowers objects with strange magic.

When mortals interact directly with it, in its raw chaotic state, it can leave permanent marks on their flesh and psyche.

Sometimes, these Chsm’s scars make reference to something called “Grief” and/or “Blood”, or others stats, so if you want to use them in your OSR game… …for something like OSE you can use this: Grief → XP or Treassure carried by PCs or sum of both (divided by 1000). Blood → HP Strong → STR, Agile → DEX, Imposing → CHA Resilient → CON, Sneaky → DEX, Observant → WIS …for something like MÖRK BORG you can use this: Grief → Omens, or Silver dived by 100, or the sum of both. Blood → HP Strong → Strenght, Agile → Agility, Imposing → Presence Resilient → Toughness, Sneaky → Agility, Observant → Presence …for both you could also add this: Let the PCs spend “X” HP to increase their roll by “X”. If anything has just one stat, it can use it for everything.

Roll 1d20 for a Chasm’s scar:

1) Staring wounds: 1d4 permanent wounds, each one with an eye. There is 1 in 6 chances that these eyes on the wounds replace the eyes on the head. If they replace an eye on the head, the replaced eye becomes black and blind. The black and blind eyes allow creatures to see traces of Chasm attached to objects and creatures.

2) Ghostly limb: You lose an extremity, roll 1d4 → 1: Left leg, 2: Right Leg, 3: Left Arm, 4: Right Arm. You can summon expending 1 point of white blood a ghostly limb, to replace the one you lost. This limb is made of crackling energy. It is pure Chasm, any creature that takes is strength from the Chasm gets twice as harm from an attack coming from this ghostly limb, any creature that has control over the Chasm can fight for control of the ghostly limb (oppose rolls using Imposing). If you use the ghostly limb to do precise things you do them with disadvantage. The limb is bright like a torch. It buzzed at the touch. If you expend an extra 1d4 of blood, you can make the limb to grow twice as long or thick. This adds to the limb 1d4 if used for strength. If you expend 2d4, you can make the limb to become in-material in some portions and material in others for a few seconds.

3) Head of eternal fire: Your head gets overtaken by the chasm, and it becomes a purplish flame without features. The head can be as bright as ten torches or get as dim as the light of a small flame, you can control this as will.You can hear the thoughts of those who have been marked by the Chasm, those who are empowered by it, or those who toy with it often.For all the creatures empowered by the Chasm you are the brightest of lights.You can’t be beheaded, and if you get broken (blood=0), you can decide to keep the flame alive by destroying your material body. In this form you will have to find a new live body to inhabit (the living creature has to lose all their blood and then you can inhabit them). Every day in this flame form there is 1 in a 6 chances that you lost the memories of who you were. As a flame you can harm as a torch (1d4), you keep your tactics, and you float as fast as you move in your material body. As flame you can’t be killed but you can be consumed by those empowered by the Chasm (oppose imposing rolls).

4) Chasm Echo: Your shadows have become an echo of you, a ghostly energy that follows you, every day they are 1d4 shadows framed by a rim of purple light. Everyone who steps on any of them will hear and see your unconscious mind; the strange whirlpools of chaotic thoughts behind your rational mind. Whoever focuses on them may get entranced by the things that reach their minds. If they want to divert their focus from them they have to make a oppose roll of their Resilient against your Imposing. If they desire to learn something from you, after being lost in the images from your unconscious, they may use any tactic to try to do it, you will oppose them with your Resilient or Imposing; if they fail you get to keep a portion of them as their minds fragments and becomes part of you; they lose one point in the tactic they used and you gained one in the tactic you use to oppose them. You also keep one memory of them. If they succeed they can ask you three questions about your memories, feelings, desires and/or knowledge, and you have to answer in honesty.

5) Possibility wake: You leave a wake of possibility behind you. This wake is fed by the Chasm inside you, and will empower and twist the beliefs of those who cross it. When someone crosses it, they will have visions of their beliefs as material beings hungry to be incarnated. If they desire they can empower this feeling, summoning through your “possibility wake” an incarnation of this belief. This incarnation has your size, as Imposing the Grief of whom summoning it, and as Chasm as many d20 of blood as the person summoning it desires. This point of blood comes from the person summoning it, and if they lose all their blood they become indefinitely the being they summon. At desire you can decide to close your eyes and get overcome by your wake of possibility, by doing this you can do the summoning yourself, with the only difference that their Chasm is as many d4 as you desire. Whatever emerges from the “possibility wake” has its own will.

6) Oppressive voice: Your voice becomes a dangerous weapon. Whenever you talk you have to make a Resilient test against 8 + your Grief. In a fail you can expend 1d4 points of blood or your voice will become an “Oppressive voice”, and will have an uncontrolled effect on the listener.When speaking with an “oppressive voice” roll 1d6, you can decrease/increase this roll in X by expending Xd4 points of blood/tactic.

1. Your voice makes whoever is the target to see in you their worst nightmare, whenever they talk with you in the future it will be difficult for them to shake away this image. 2. Your voice makes whoever listening it to instinctively act against the shackles of your words, and they will act against anything you say. 3. Your voice projects a presence so powerful that whoever is the target of it will do what you ask as in a trance, they will feel regret and the weight of your manipulation makes you earn one Grief. 4. Your voice is like a scream that makes everyone listening to fall to their knees of pain. If they fail a resilient test, they lose 2d4 points of blood. 5. Your voice makes the target of it to see the why of your message; they will hear you and they will understand what you have been through, they will feel in them the weight of your pain and the passion of your desires. If they are a PC they can ask you one thing and you have to answer truthful. You lose as much Grief as you desire. 6. Your voice can use the Chasm to change the mind of a person, their memories and feelings about them will change accordingly to conform to your vision and agree with you.

7) Burning heart: Your heart burns as furnaces of Chasm. It shines through your chest. Your veins glow accordingly with your emotions; those close to you may learn what colors are indicative of what emotions (you define these colors).Whatever you eat, now becomes Chasm inside you; highlights two colors of your blood, now, when you eat, you always get half and half of these colors (these represent the Chasm in your veins, you can’t empower tactics that use other blood tints).You can use your blood to create small contraptions and small creatures. If you are able to imagine them, then your blood can create them. To create them, you have to cut yourself and release your blood, you bleed strings of purple energy. When doing this you can expend Xd4 points of blood. If the thing you create needs stats it has X Chasm/blood and they do everything with Imposing +X. These creations obey you.

8) Toxic Breath: Your lungs transform the oxygen you breathe on Chasm. From your mouth and nose, a vapor emerges that glows slightly purple and green in color. Whoever is close to it will feel your thoughts as their own, as intrusive words piercing their minds. You can control the effects of your breath by rolling Imposing against 8 + your Grief. If you succeed you can decide one of these:

Suppress any effect

Share your mind with them for as long as they stay very close face to face.

Or a random effect, roll 1d4/2

1-2. To flood the mind of whoever is an arm's length away. Do an Imposing oppose roll against your target. If you win they get entranced for 1d4 minutes. 3-4. Your breath becomes a toxic cloud around you, everyone that is at two arm's length from you will have to make a Resilient test against 10 +“their own Grief”. If they fail they get the intoxicated -1 condition.

9) The other: Every time that one the next happens, you become a twisted version of yourself:

You act against one of your compulsions and you fail a Resilient check DC 5 + your Grief.

You are left with only black blood (you can do it intentionally).

You are left with one point of blood (you can do it intentionally).

You get unconscious against your will.

The twisted version of yourself names itself “the other”, it speaks in third person, it’s aware of you. The first time that you become “the other” you decide what is their tactic. You roll 1d6, with each number representing one of your tactics. “The other” has 0 in all its tactics but the tactic chosen by the 1d6. In this tactic it has as many points as the sum of all the points of your tactics. “The other” thinks that this tactic is the best way to relate with the world and act upon it, it will try to affect the world with this tactic so the deepest and secret desires on you become real.

If “the other” gets harmed, and has to lose blood, they instead make you lose Grief (when bleeding Grief tails of purple energy fall from your body). If when “the other” is awake you get out of Grief, you regain control of your body. You are always aware of what “the other” has done.

10) Scars on time and history: This scar pierces through time to change your past. Make a list of six important events and/or persons from your past; those that have defined you as a person. If you have less than six in mind, you can repeat those that are more important. Then roll 1d6, the number of the die is who or what changed in your past from the list you made. Then roll 1d4:

1. Erase its effect and existence from your past. 2. Erase it from your past, but its effect remains in you, roll 1d6 again and see who or what from your list is now the source of this effect (re-roll it if you get the original source). 3. Its effect on you was the opposite it had originally. 4. Repeat it and make it recent, a few moons you have experienced a new event or get to know a new person that mirrors almost in perfection the one on your list.

If you have any item, compulsion, power, or anything related to the thing that changes in your past, then modify/erase this accordingly.

11) Final day premonition: write a sentence about how you will die. If more than three nouns or verbs in that sentence are present on a random event, then is the day you die and your premonition will become as true as possible. For the rest of that day, until you die, all your tactics are empowered by half the length of words of the sentence you wrote.

12) Immaterial retreat: When you get this scar your body becomes immaterial for 1d4 minutes, everything that you were wearing or carrying – that wasn't attached to you by piercing your skin (ex: earrings)– does not become immaterial with you and is left behind. In this state you are susceptible to all the actions of any immaterial being, or any creature or artifact empowered by the Chasm, and whenever they are doing to affect you, if they succeed, the effects are double in potency.After this first time of becoming immaterial you have to choose a tint of your blood and underline it. Each time this tint of your blood is emptied, you become immaterial for 1d4 minutes.

13) Flaming eyes: Your eyes are two flames, the color is for you to decide. Together they are bight as a torch. Now you can see traces of Chasm in the air, as nearly invisible trails of suspended dust; these trails are left behind by artifacts or creatures empowered by the Chasm and they can endure on the air for days.When your eyes are the only source of light, you feel everything that those who are illuminated by their light or those who witness this light feel. As long as they are in the presence of the light of your eyes you will be a victim of their compulsions.

14) Vampiric touch: Your skin acquires a purplish tone. It absorbs light, making your surroundings a little darker. Whenever anyone is a few inches from you they will feel a desire to touch your skin. Whenever someone touches your skin you have to make a Resilient opposed roll against them. You can decide to use your Imposing instead or to hold your breath to fail, you can only fail voluntarily while holding your breath. If you win the roll you absorb 1d4 of their blood, this becomes black blood. After consuming blood in this way you lose control and you can’t willingly fail a roll until you get away from sight from the creature you had fed from. Now you have to make again an oppose roll, this time to your roll you add the amount of blood you previously consumed. If you empty someone out of blood you will become overwhelmed by Grief and fatigue; you gain 2 Grief and the fatigue (-blood_you_ consumed) condition.

15) Involuntary telekinesis: You gain one new compulsion from one of the creatures that are close to you at the moment of getting this scar. Make a list of all their compulsions, filling a list of eight entries. If between all the compulsions are less than eight repeat the list from bottom to top with the same elements until is totally full. Now roll 1d8, this is your new compulsion.Every time that you act against any of your compulsions, you have to roll Resilient DC 5 + your Grief, if you fail, your telekinesis is unleashed randomly, roll 1d6, you can decrease/increase this roll in X by expending Xd4 points of blood/tactic.

1. You crash the most fragile object around against a wall or the floor. 2. You summon flames on an object that belongs to the person that is closest to you (physically or emotionally, you decide). 3. You push the person closest to you, they are thrown away as many feet/meters as your Grief, if there is anything in their path they get harmed (1d6). 4. You blind for 1d4 minutes everyone that you are aware of their proximity to you (you make their eyes opaque, or contract their pupils, or close their eyelids, or any other way you decide to blind them). You also get blinded the same way. 5. You make everyone that you are aware of their proximity to you levitate for 1d4/2 minutes. They can’t move and they stay in place. There are 1 in 4 chances that you also levitate. 6. Everything and everyone around you gets pushed away as many feet/meters as your Grief, if there is anything in their path they get harmed (1d6).

16) Chaotic body: Your body and capacities change when you sleep. Every time that you wake up, for three tactics of your choice roll 1d6.The result tells you with which other tactic you have to interchange its value.1 Strong2 Resilient3 Imposing4 Agile5 Sneaky6 ObservantIf for a tactic you get that you have to interchange its value with its own, then it doesn't change.The signs of your change can be seen in your body or your behavior, you define these signs.

17) Hunger of the chasm: In one part of your body, a flat swirl of Chasm appears as big as one of your hands. Your heart stops beating and your skin gets as cold as a corpse. Now your veins are empty, full of red sand, and you can only be fed by resting or by consuming creatures or items empowered by the Chasm through the Chasm’s swirl in your skin.When consuming something with chasm you earn as much Chasm as they have.When resting you restore as much chasm as blood points you normally restore.Cross out all your blood tints, now all your blood is Chasm. Your Chasm can empower any of your tactics.

18) Creepers of the Chasm: You become the host of six creepers of the Chasm. You can always hear their voices, commenting on what you do and don't do, mocking and tempting you. Each one gets attached to one of your tactics. Every time that you empower with blood one of your tactics, there is 1 in 4 chances that the creeper attached to that tactic will come out of you.They look like small humanoid creatures made of purplish shadows (you decide the details of their appearance).They will always try to work in your favor, even if they do it reluctantly and mock you, as you are their home.When they are out of you, you have 0 in that tactic. They do everything with that tactic. If they should lose blood, for each point of blood they should lose you lose one Grief. Whenever you get out of Grief these creepers return immediately to you.

19) Animal incarnation: Your chasm makes you incarnate what you eat. Every time that you eat an animal you have to make a Resilient test DC 10 + “points of blood you got from that animal”. In a fail you acquire 1d4 physical features from that animal and one compulsion inspired by their instinctual behavior, you can decide which compulsion you acquire but you can ask others to give you ideas. The compulsion and the animal traits endure until you acquire new ones or until you go to sleep.

20) Glowing wound: You get one scar, it glows slightly, never totally heals, but does not affect you in any negative way. If you bleed from it, willingly or not, you lose 1d4 point of blood, and the blood, whenever gets to rest, becomes into a small portal tide to your wound. Anything that enters through your wound appears on the portal and the other way around. If you bleed more than once from the same wound the previous portal evaporates and only the last endures.Any wound that you acquire from this moment on becomes a “glowing wound” that behaves as the first one.The “glowing wound” is recorded as Power, with a wound die beside it, that starts as 1d10.Every time that you get a new wound (it always becomes a “glowing wound”) you have to roll the wound die of the last recorded wound. In a 1 or 2 the two wounds are so close that they become one larger wound, and instead of recording the new wound you step down the wound die 1 tier (d10 → d8 → d6 → d4 → dividing wound).If any wound die steps down to the last die (d4) and you get a 1 or 2 in it, then part of your body gets isolated from the rest of your body by the wound and it evaporates into a mist of Chasm. Erase that wound. Toss a coin, in a head the part of your body that evaporates is your head, and you acquire the Chasm’s scar “Head of eternal fire”. In a tail, you get as a new Chasm’s scar a “Ghostly limb”.If your head becomes a “Head of eternal fire” and all your limbs are “Ghostly limbs” then you become part of the Chasm and die.

[klunkcat]

tagged by @goodlucktai <3333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

45 lol but i have I think. 30 wips that exist somewhere on my computer at any given moment. alas.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

701,032

which..... is like far too many words per fic actually imo

3. What fandoms do you write for?

honestly whatever currently grabs my brain stem changes a lot but i think my top ones are tmnt and stranger things (what a wild combo actually). Actively atm I have a trigun wip and a tmnt one

4. Top five fics by kudos?

A Kiss is a Kiss (But it's never like this) - 6,528

(something happens and I'm) head over heels - 3,518

Green with Envy - 1,880

Forget the mess I'm in - 1,791

Weak Point - 1,366

5. Do you respond to comments?

literally I am the WORST for remembering to reply I'm so sorry. I must say that I do read all of them in my email and screenshot them and cry

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

angsty endings are too much 4 me I believe so strongly in hurt/comfort but....

Impossible Things and the Tin Can I think is the most like, conceptually tragic series I've written

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Comfort is a requirement but I think but like Stepping over the line is basically just an extended meet cute so nothing really sad happens at all lol?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Actually genuinely have never gotten a rude comment in my life I did once get someone being hyper pushy about new chaps when I was like.... 19? Sometimes comments veer I think towards misunderstanding unreliable narrator elements and can be a little intense as a result

9. Do you write smut?

ehhhhhh closest I've ever gotten was dancing around the topic lol

10. Craziest crossover?

omg me and tai have gone down some rabbit holes and made a tangled/good omens fusion among other things, which was cute 2 me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've gotten some requests, not sure if they got uploaded anywhere?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did once many years ago but we didn't end up finishing it from what I remember!

14. All time favourite ship?

oh god I mean. ineffable husbands and wangxian invented romance. big mckirk and vashwood fan despite what my published fics would tell you. stsg ruined my life this year. I'm really big on platonic friendships though personally

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My google docs are a cesspit of fics I will never finish. Once made a wangxian softball fic that will never see the light of day but I think of it fondly

16. What are your writing strengths?

Might actually be a weakness and not a strength but boy do I love prosey metaphor nonsense. Sometimes I think it works other times who's 2 say.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fighting scenes man, combat is hard as hell.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

in general I dooooon't write it too much just because I don't speak anything beyond like. grade 2 level spanish so.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

tmnt :' )

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Oh tricky. Stealing tai's idea of a top 5

Forget-Me-Nots - :') big ol love u to tai for this

Both the Sweet and the Bitter - so sorry to anyone who follows me for ST fics because I'm probably never going to write for it ever again or finish this but a dear friend of mine helped me with this story and it means a lot 2 me as a result. The flower metaphors were fun to research.

Plain White Beach Houses - also same as the above but idk pacific rim au....house metaphors.... I love this series a lot

change up, high inside - wanted to write a softball fic for my whole life basically and this is more or less me just waxing poetic about the sport if I'm honest

Feedback Loop - this fic was actually insane like. took me I think a full year to write out? There's a lot of stuff in this that I lol cannot reread anymore for reasons but damn if it wasn't a learning experience to write all around

Tagging @eternalglitch @byrdybyrd02 @jinbugs if u want to besties!

[talonabraxas]

The Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara Talon Abraxas

Oṃ Mani Padme Hūṃ / Om Mani Padme Hum

Avalokiteshvara (or Avalokiteśvara) is a Bodhisattva who represents compassion, and his mantra also symbolizes that quality. Avalokiteshvara means “The Lord Who Looks Down (in compassion)”.

There are various forms of Avalokiteśvara (Chenrezig in Tibetan). The four-armed form is shown here. There is also a 1000-armed form — the many arms symbolizing compassion in action. And in the far east, Avalokiteshvara turned into the female Bodhisattva, Kuan Yin.

Avalokiteśvara Mantra Meaning

Oṃ, as I’ve explained elsewhere, has only a mystical meaning — suggesting primordial reality, or the potential for enlightenment that pervades the universe.

Mani means jewel.

adma means lotus (why the form in the mantra is “padme” is explained below).

Huṃ, like Oṃ, has no conceptual meaning.

Both jewels and lotuses are important symbolic elements in Buddhism.

Jewels represent what is most precious, so that Buddhists worship not just the Buddha, but the three jewels (Buddha, Dharma, or the teachings, and Sangha, or spiritual community). and jewels were considered indestructible, which made them an excellent symbol for eternal truths.

The lotus represents purity, in terms of how the enlightened mind is untouched by the negativity of the world. Just as the lotus can exist in muddy water without being soiled, so an enlightened being can exist in an impure world without becoming contaminated by its greed, hatred, or delusion.

The mantra is often “translated” as “Hail to the jewel in the lotus” but the Sanskrit simply can’t mean that.

The central element, manipadme, seems to be a name, Manipadma (“The Jewel Lotus One”) with the -e ending signifying the vocative case, meaning that Manipadma — is being invoked (“O Jewel Lotus One”).

But if this is the case, then according to the rules of classical Sanskrit, then Manipadma would have to be a feminine figure. And Avalokiteśvara is male.

However, if the mantra was originally in a non-Sanskrit language with different grammatical rules, and the vocative -e ending was applicable in that language to a masculine figure, then Manipadma would simply be another name for Avalokiteshvara.

The mantra of Avalokitesvara would then mean “Oṃ, O Jewel Lotus One, Hūṃ” — the “Jewel Lotus One” being an alternative name for Avalokitesvara himself.

The Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara

This multi-limbed approach was taken to another level in the thousand-armed and eleven-headed form of Avalokiteshvara. According to legend, Avalokiteshvara made a vow, in the presence of the Buddha Amitabha, to manifest in all the realms of existence in order to save all sentient beings. He also vowed that if he were to lose his compassion for even a moment, that he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

At one time, having worked tirelessly for the welfare of beings, Avalokiteshvara, at Amitabha’s prompting, looked back and saw that there were still uncountable beings suffering in samsara. At that point he became discourage, fainted, and shattered into a thousand pieces. Amitabha gathered up the pieces and reassembled them into a form with thousand arms and eleven heads.

The eleven heads symbolize the eleven directions of space, suggesting that Avalokiteshvara’s compassionate gaze is infinite in scope. Each of the thousand hands, which are arrayed like an aura around the standing figure of Avalokiteshvara, has an eye in the center of the palm, suggesting that his beneficial activities are informed by transcendental wisdom. Many of the hands bear implements, suggesting the skilful means that Avalokiteshvara employs in saving sentient beings from the sufferings of samsara.

Although he is associated with compassion, Avalokiteshvara is, like all Bodhisattvas, symbolic of wisdom as well. He is connected with the Heart Sutra in particular, and that text is in fact a teaching he gave on the topic of emptiness (shunyata) to Shariputra. He is also associated with the Lotus Sutra.

Avalokiteshvara is the spiritual father of Tara, who is said to have been born from a lotus that grew in a lake formed by the tears he shed as he gazed in compassion at the infinite sufferings of the world.

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

B with Asra and Nadia mayBEE?

I'm very punny I know

Sure! I adore you and your puns!

Fandom: The Arcana

Characters: Asra & Nadia

Warnings: None

Fluff Alphabet prompt: Boo! - How do they feel about surprises, giving and receiving?

Asra

Let's be honest here - Asra lives for surprises. He has a tendency to live life one minute at a time, so if you're going to be with them, you're going to get used to spontaneity.

That said, if you hate surprises, he'll do his absolute best to avoid them, but... it still happens kinda frequently. They do try to soften the surprise element, though, and will let you know about their new ideas or plans as soon as possible.

But anyway! Assuming you're on board, Asra loves surprises. So, so much. It's practically part of their love language at this point. They're constantly bringing you little surprise gifts - "I just saw this in the market and thought of you!" - or arranging little surprises for you! You'll come home from a long day at work to find that the upper floor of the shop has been transformed into the most relaxing place he could create, with oversized pillows and the fluffiest blankets strewn everywhere, and plenty of their best tea, and incense sticks burning a soothing scent, and just... everything they could think of.

Asra's favorite part of surprises is the reaction of the person receiving them. He lives for the look of surprised excitement, the way their eyes light up and the way they smile. It's addicting, and as absent-minded as our favorite magician can be, his favorite people are often on his mind whenever they see things that said people would like.

They also just enjoy surprising people in general, like showing up unannounced to bring them lunch or just hang out, and playfully spooking people from behind or popping out from behind something. That's one thing Asra and Faust have in common - both of them enjoy games and harmless pranks, and Asra is associated with the fox for a reason! You've lost count of how many times you wake up and roll out of bed only to end up in a magical sinkhole of pillows, or slip your shoes on only to find them, somehow, made of water, or misplace a book or something only to find it in the most unexpected place... The prank wars with Asra and Faust will be epic!

As for being the one getting the surprise, Asra absolutely adores it. They'll love anything you give them, truthfully, but they're a curious one - mention you're planning something and suddenly he's like a child impatiently trying to find their present before Christmas comes. Good luck hiding it with Faust around, too, because she can slip into the tiniest of places to search. Best to keep it quiet until you're ready.

Throw a surprise party for Asra's birthday. Chances are, he might've forgotten it, too - after all, I don't imagine Asra is one to keep track of dates very well, and the calendar he's got is almost always at least a month behind whenever it actually is. Invite all their friends, make a big deal out of it. Make them feel really special for once, because he is special!! Asra might feel a little embarrassed being the center of attention, but trust me, the reminder that they're loved and appreciated is well worth it.

Also, if you can give him random little gifts?? Perfection. It'll make Asra's entire day to know that you found something and thought of him - or, even better, made something for him. Your skill level doesn't matter, so long as it's done with love, Asra will see the beauty in it and cherish it forever.

Nadia

I don't think Nadia is one for surprises, at least, not in the beginning. She's the Countess of Vesuvia, she needs everything to go smoothly and she must be on top of everything at all times. Surprises stress her out. If you'd asked her earlier, she'd tell you she hates them. 'Surprise,' to her, means some sort of prank pulled on her by one of her many sisters, or some stunt Lucio has pulled, or something being wrong that she must attempt to fix, a courtier showing up unannounced to insist upon speaking with her. All negative things, nothing good ever comes from a surprise. That is... until she meets you.

You change things for her. Showing up unannounced is no longer an annoyance that she must make time for, but a pleasant moment she wasn't expecting. Bringing her gifts isn't something that must leave her mentally scrambling for political reasons, but a completely harmless, well-meaning gesture.

She doesn't even realize her perspective on surprises has shifted until you grab her by the hand and tug her gently towards a mystery destination, cheerfully informing her you have a surprise for her. Her shoulders instinctively tense at the word, but for once, she isn't dreading what you have in store - no, this time she's eager to see what it is you've prepared, and she feels the flutter of excitement in her chest for the first time as you lead her. Perhaps it's a soothing spa day you've arranged in that incredible pool-sized bath to help her relax, perhaps you're leading her to a secluded room for a little tea date, or maybe you're leading her outside to go and gaze at nature together - whatever it is, she will surely love it, and surprise takes on a different meaning for her.

On the other hand, Nadia is one who surprises you constantly, though she prefers not to think of it that way at first. She absolutely showers you in gifts, little tokens of her affection, and she often plans things for the two of you as well, surprising you with little trips to various places and the occasional date to go somewhere more special and intimate. She's a very busy woman, so she doesn't often have the time for much in the way of event planning, but she wants your company wherever it is she's going and does her best to make it enjoyable and not just... work. Impromptu stops are very common on these little trips, as she'll see somewhere that she'd like to show you or a cute little shop and pause the journey to go explore.

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