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forabeatofadrum · 2 years ago

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The Still Untitled Klaine December Challenge Fic (3/21)

AO3 | S&C

ENLARGE

Blaine wakes up on time, which is a good thing, since that means that jet lag is finally ebbing away. He goes to the kitchen in order to get some breakfast and Quinn’s already dressed and ready to go.

“Morning,” Blaine sing-songs, “Are you going to spin club?”

Quinn nods.

“Can I take the car?” she asks.

“Of course,” Blaine answers, but then he feels a bit uneasy. The car. That’s another thing they need to figure out. They own that together as well. “Will you be back afterwards?”

Quinn grabs the keys and says: “I don’t know. Might have a drink with the girls.”

“Ah.”

“But tonight we can figure stuff out, alright?”

Blaine’s certain they won’t be able to figure it all out in one evening, but it’s a start. He tells Quinn to have a nice day.

Blaine goes to visit his parents. They weren’t there yesterday to welcome him back, because they were busy, but Blaine’s mom basically demanded that he’d come over for lunch today. They missed him a lot.

Since Quinn has the car, Blaine takes public transport and it’s doable, but it’s not Ljubljana. Los Angeles, and all of America, heavily favours cars and Blaine misses his Slovenian €1,30 bus ticket immediately.

Blaine walks up to his parents’ house’s porch and the front door always swings open.

“My boy!” his mom yells loudly, probably upsetting everyone in this posh neighbourhood. She runs towards him with her arms stretched out.

“Mom!” Blaine goes to hug his mother.

Then he hears his father chuckle.

“Someone’s missed you,” he says, “And that someone is me.”

“Hey dad,” Blaine says.

He missed his parents. They might not be the most affectionate and adoring parents in the world, and they’re insane workaholics and spent a lot of time away from home, but Blaine and Cooper grew up being loved.

Besides, once Blaine’s dad’s company got big, they moved to LA, and then Blaine and Quinn moved to LA after their studies, so now they see each other more often.

Blaine’s mom ushers everyone inside and as expected, she went all out in the kitchen. Blaine’s mom loves cooking as a way to share her love. The three of them eat and talk about Ljubljana. Of course Blaine’s talked to his parents while he was there, but it’s different face-to-face and Blaine spent more time talking to Quinn. After an hour or so, Cooper barges in and it’s fun and Blaine almost forgot that there’s something different now, until he mentions Kurt.

“Kurt? That’s your American friend, right?” his dad asks, “Has he also returned home?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Good,” Blaine’s mom says and that’s that. The conversation moves on to other topics and Blaine sits back, slightly in shock.

Right.

Kurt is just some guy he met in Ljubljana. That’s all his parents know. Blaine never talked much about him, even before Blaine realised he had feelings for him, because those conversations were mostly with Quinn. And of course once he and Kurt got together, he never told anyone apart from Quinn, Sunil, Tadeja and Kurt’s family. Then Quinn told Denise with his permission.

Blaine isn’t ready to enlarge this safe bubble of people who know that he’s gay. It feels so daunting. He knew that coming out would be part of it, but back in Ljubljana it was “a thing for the future” and now it’s that future and Blaine has no clue what to do.

But maybe he can already plant a seed in his family’s brain. Maybe he can slowly let it slip that Kurt’s more important than they think.

“Actually-” Blaine cuts off Cooper’s spiel about his new face routine, “-I am going to New York to visit Kurt!”

“Lovely, dear,” his mom says, “Glad to hear you got a lasting friendship.”

And that’s it again. Blaine doesn’t know what else to add, since it’s clear that his family doesn’t pick up that Blaine wants to say more about Kurt, so he just eats his lunch in silence. After all, he has no more stories about Ljubljana to share, since they all involve his new love life.

“Apartment?”

“Check.”

“Car?”

“Check.”

“Household contents?”

“Check.”

“Shared subscriptions.”

“I’m still fine with sharing a Netflix account.”

“Same. Did I miss anything?”

Blaine looks over the list that Quinn has created. They’re brainstorming on what to brainstorm on. Everything is going to change. The two of them have been living separately since April, with Quinn dating Denise in LA and Blaine dating Kurt in Ljubljana, but now it’s time to actually plan for their future without each other.

Unfortunately, they had planned a shared future.

“Can I just say I am glad we never decided to share a bank account?” Quinn sighs.

“Or buy a house together,” Blaine adds.

“Or get married and have a kid!”

Those were all part of their future plans, but they weren’t there yet.

Blaine slides the list back to Quinn. Where do they start? Right now, they live together. Quinn and Denise did remodel the spare room into a new bedroom for Quinn, so they sleep separately. That is fine for now, but something is off. They were living together as friends before they started dating, so they can do it again, but what will change and what won’t?

Even little unimportant things are so big out of nowhere. Yesterday evening, there was some contention on whether or not they would be in the bathroom at the same time. They didn’t do that when they were friends, but they did when they were dating. So do they stop? But they’ve already seen each other naked, so does it matter?

Are there rules for this?

The main thing is the apartment. Can they continue to live together?

The two of them discuss the pros and cons, and Quinn mentions that she might not be ready live with Denise.

“Aren’t lesbians known for moving in together immediately?” Blaine jokes, “That’s the U-Haul thing, right?”

But Quinn’s face falls and Blaine immediately senses he made a mistake.

“I’m not…” Quinn trials off.

An awkward silence stretches between them.

“Oh,” Blaine says quietly.

“Or I- Well, I don’t know if I am, you know, a lesbian.”

Quinn looks very uncomfortable with this situation.

“Oh,” Blaine says again. He fucked up. He tries to think what to do. What would Kurt say? “You know it’s okay if you are.”

“Of course I do,” Quinn snaps and it shocks Blaine. Quinn’s eyes also widen and she groans. “I know. Being a lesbian is a good thing. Lesbian isn’t a dirty word! Lesbians are amazing.”

It sounds like a mantra.

“Lesbians are amazing,” Blaine agrees.

“But this is- I’ve only known that I’m not straight for four months. I get that I’ve always liked girls in a way, but does that mean I never liked guys? I don’t know!”

“You don’t have to know,” Blaine says, because that is also Kurt would say. Blaine is new to this as well. “Sorry that I assumed.”

“No, no, I get it,” Quinn says awkwardly, “I am in love with a lesbian. And maybe I am one as well, but as I say, all that I know for sure is that I am Denise’s.”

That makes sense. Blaine also held on to his feelings for Kurt when everything else was changing around him. But Blaine knows he’s gay. He’s never liked a girl in his life, but he just thought he did.

“… Do you want to talk about it?” Blaine asks.

“I’d rather not think about it,” Quinn says after a beat of silence, “Can we just go back to our list?”

“Sure,” Blaine says, although he has the feeling that they won’t get anything done today.

End notes: It's been 3.5 years since I lived in Ljubljana and I still bitch about how much I miss the €1,30 bus ticket.

#klaine #glee #december klaine challenge 2023 #enlarge #multichaptered #2023 #holy fuck I wrote

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duhragonball · 2 years ago

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Duhragonba11

(That title looked cooler in my head for some reason.)

Hi, I'm Mike, and on December 21, 2012, I made the first post on this blog. It's nothing special, just a fandub video that always amused me. I didn't have any particular agenda with this thing, which is why I went with the name I chose.

I signed up for tumblr in 2011. Livejournal was dying, I had just moved to a new place and I was kind of looking for a fresh start. My main blog, @sodiumlamp, was my half-assed attempt to do a cool science themed blog. I thought you had to have a moody aesthetic on this site, because a lot of popular tumblrs posted black and white photos with wistful poetry and shit. I was burned out on """fandom""" and wanted to try to write something focused on a more general-interest topic. To be honest, I still want that, but it took a back seat as my priorities changed.

I created a few sideblogs, and decided the only thing I was missing was one for anime nonsense. It feels weird that I waited so long to go through with it, though. That first year or two on tumblr, I was kind of wary of the site, like I didn't know what to do with it, and I was worried I'd screw something up. Anyway, I broke my leg in the fall of 2012, and I spent about five months laid up at my parents' house. It was on the evening of December 20 that I made up my mind to set this thing up. Maybe I just couldn't settle on a name for the blog, or I wasn't sure I could post enough stuff to it to make it worth the trouble. My sleep schedule was a mess in those days, so it doesn't surprise me much that the first post was made in the middle of the night.

What really made this important for me was a post I made a few days later. I decided to just write about Raditz, and it got a lot of notes. Well, more than a hundred, which is kind of a big deal to me. There seemed to be an audience for this stuff, which led me to devote more and more time to this blog. Over the years, my other blogs have fallen by the wayside, and this became my main internet presence.

I don't think this thing is all that "big" in terms of popularity. I currently have 3957 followers, which sounds like a lot, although I usually only see 20-30 unique users in my activity reports. Still, it's a lot for me, and I'm grateful for it. I think things started to pick up in 2015, probably because of Xenoverse 1, Resurrection F, and Dragon Ball Super all starting up around that time. I got a lot of positive reinforcement from my audience, and that was a major factor that led to me getting back into writing fanfiction.

The Luffa concept was something I had been sitting on for years, but I never tried to write it because it seemed like too daunting a challenge, and even if I could finish a story like that, I wasn't sure anyone would bother to read it. But in 2015 I felt a lot more confident about giving it a shot. And people read it! They seemed to really like it! And in early December of that year, I even got fanart of the story.

(Art by @bluewavelengths)

It still blows my mind that this happened. It's eight years later, and I still find myself kind of averting my gaze when I look at this. Like, it's just sort of overwhelming. I really need to assemble some sort of gallery for Luffa art. I've got a folder with a lot of XV2 screencaps and loose drafts, and I'll run across this image from time to time and it always gets to me. Thank you, Nico.

So Luffa kind of took over a lot of this blog space from 2016 onward. I still felt like I should maintain some sort of general presence for an audience that wasn't interested in the character. I don't know if that makes sense or not, but that led me to kind of half-assedly liveblogging JoJo's Bizarre Adventure in 2017, which led me to three-quarter-assed liveblogs around the time I got to Stone Ocean and Steel Ball Run. That kind of set the stage for much of the stuff I do these days. Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z in 2019, Hellsing and Battle Tendency in 2021, and GT and Super in 2023. Well, I like to think I use my whole ass now when I liveblog these things, but I guess I should let history be the judge of that.

I'm not sure there's a coherent message to this. Honestly, I noticed back in January that I passed Year 10, and I thought I should really make a point of doing some sort of retrospective on the next anniversary, so here I am. I kind of debated making it a shitpost, or blowing it off altogether, but now that I've settled on revisiting the history of the blog, I feel like the common denominator here is that I can express myself and there are people who are interested in what I have to say. Every so often someone will tell me they liked something I wrote, and it's great. I'm not good at taking the compliment, but it's still gratifying to know that someone actually paid attention long enough to go "Yeah, he's got a good point." That matters. It matters a lot. If you're reading this, thank you.

I don't know what the future holds. I mean, I'm gonna keep posting stuff here, but for all I know Tumblr will get sold to Yahoo again and go out of business. In the short term, I still have fic work to do, and I've got a lot of messages in my ask box that I need to get back to. Also I'm gonna try to watch Evangelion next year, and reread Jojolion now that it's finished, and see if it makes more sense. Other than that, we'll see.

Serious question: Did I coin the term "Knife Lady"? Like, other people call her that now, but I think I may have been the one to get that started. Maybe I'm kidding myself, but it's fun to think about sometimes. I just don't want to steal fandom valor from the actual inventor of "we should all call that Saiyan 'Knife Lady'." But if it really was me, then that's pretty cool.

#ask duhragonball #well this isn't an ask but I have the tag and it seemed appropriate

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amitypatna · 9 months ago

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Best Colleges For BCom In Bihar: Curriculum, Focus, & More!

BCom is a degree that is often a top choice among commerce students. After passing out from 12th standard— a huge number of students enroll to pursue this course. But unfortunately, a lot of them don't know why to pursue a BCom, and how to differentiate between a BCom vs a BCom Hons degree. So through this article, we are going to shed some light on key differences between a BCom and a BCom Hons degree and the best BCom colleges in India.

Difference Between A BCom & BCom Hons

While there are not a lot of differences in both of these degrees, the difference primarily lies in the curriculum and core focuses:

BCom (Bachelor of Commerce)

A BCom degree usually focuses on basic concepts of commerce and covers subjects like accounting, economics, business law, taxation, etc

It also provides a broad understanding of commerce and trade practices. The emphasis of BCom is to provide a well-rounded education in various aspects of commerce. It helps students for a wide range of careers in the business field.

BCom Hons (Bachelor of Commerce Honors)

The curriculum of a BCom Hons degree is more specialized and comprehensive, as compared to a basic BCom degree. It includes advanced study in a particular field such as Accounting, Finance, or Marketing.

Focus of this program is designed for the students who have a clear focus on a specific area in commerce. It is more rigorous and often has a research component or project.

Now that we have understood what are the key differences between a BCom and BCom Hons degree, it's important to understand that choosing the right college is as important as choosing the right course. So let’s discuss further which college is right for you.

Choosing The Right College

Picking up the right college is crucial because it has the power to shape your whole career. While there are numerous institutions in Bihar; selecting the right college can feel daunting. That's where Amity comes to existence. With a focus of making future leaders, Amity has carved a niche for itself. It has consistently ranked as the No.1 among the best colleges for Bcom in Bihar.

Let’s see the reasons that distinguishes Amity:

Well-Read Faculty

The faculty of Amity are not just seasoned professors, but also scholars of their respective fields. They are well-read and they bring their real-life knowledge to the classroom. It helps the students to learn any concept in-depth and become the expert on any topic.

Modern Infrastructure

The ambience of Amity is well-built and looks futuristic. It has big libraries, labs, tall buildings, canteen, greenery, and everything that one could ever ask for. This helps to foster a good mood, and surrounding for your entire academic journey.

Focus on Curriculum

Amity possesses a strong focus on curriculum and it goes in-depth to teach the core concepts of commerce. On one hand, Amity teaches the core subjects of BCom & BCom Hons like: finance, accounting, economics etc., and on the other hand the faculty provides the students with assignments & projects to make sure that the students are getting a well-rounded education.

Conclusion

Analyzing the legacy and going through the curriculum is crucial while choosing the top colleges for BCom in Bihar or best Colleges for BCom Hons in Patna. Amity with its advantages like seasoned faculty and world-class facilities stand out as a top choice. It is ranked by THE (UK) — among the top institutions globally for higher employability. These perks undoubtedly make Amity the best. So if you are looking to start your career in commerce— Apply Now!

Source: https://sites.google.com/view/best-college-for-bcom-in-bihar/home?authuser=2

#Best Colleges for Bcom in Bihar #best colleges for bcom hons in Patna #Best Bcom Colleges in India

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huntercoalfieldsremovals · 11 months ago

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10 Ways to Prepare Your Kids for a Big Move

Moving to a new home can be a daunting experience for anyone, but it can be especially challenging for children. Leaving behind familiar surroundings, friends, and routines can cause anxiety and stress. However, with thoughtful preparation and a positive approach, you can help your children navigate this transition smoothly. Here are ten effective ways to prepare your kids for a big move with removalist Maitland professionals:

Open Communication

Start by having an open and honest conversation with your children about the move. Explain the reasons behind the decision and what they can expect. Encourage them to ask questions and express their feelings. This transparency will help alleviate their fears and uncertainties. Discuss the move well in advance, so they have ample time to process the information. Be prepared to revisit the topic multiple times as new questions and concerns arise.

Involve Them in the Process

Involving your children in the moving process can make them feel more in control and less anxious. Take them house hunting with you, let them choose their new room, and encourage them to participate in packing their belongings. This involvement can turn a stressful experience into an exciting adventure. Allow them to make decisions about their new space, such as picking out new decorations or choosing the colour scheme for their room. This sense of ownership can make the new home feel more like theirs.

Visit the New Neighbourhood

If possible, take your children to visit the new neighbourhood before the move. Show them around the local parks, schools, and other places of interest. Familiarising them with the new environment can help reduce anxiety and build anticipation for the move. If a visit isn’t feasible, use online resources to explore the area together. Look up pictures, maps, and even virtual tours of local attractions. Highlight exciting new opportunities and activities they can look forward to.

Read Books About Moving

There are many children's books that address the topic of moving. Reading these stories together can help your kids understand and cope with their emotions. Books like "The Berenstain Bears' Moving Day" by Stan and Jan Berenstain or "Alexander, Who's Not (Do You Hear Me? I Mean It!) Going to Move" by Judith Viorst can be particularly helpful. These stories can provide comfort by showing your children that their feelings are normal and shared by others. They can also spark discussions about their own thoughts and fears.

Create a Moving Calendar

A moving calendar can help your children visualise the timeline and understand the different stages of the move. Mark important dates such as the packing day, moving day, and their first day at the new school. This visual aid can make the process feel more structured and less overwhelming. Include fun countdown activities, like a family movie night or a special outing, to create positive associations with the upcoming move. A visual countdown can also help younger children grasp the concept of time better.

Host a Farewell Party

Organise a farewell party for your children to say goodbye to their friends. This event can provide closure and allow them to create lasting memories. Encourage them to exchange contact information with their friends to stay in touch after the move. Consider making a memory book or scrapbook where they can keep photos, messages, and mementos from their friends. This can serve as a comforting reminder of their old home and help ease the transition.

Establish a Moving Day Plan

Prepare a detailed plan for moving day to ensure everything runs smoothly. Assign specific tasks to your children, such as packing their favourite toys in a special box or helping with last-minute preparations. Having a plan in place can help reduce chaos and make the day feel more manageable. Keep essentials like snacks, water, and entertainment within easy reach to keep them comfortable and occupied during the move. Reassure them that everything is under control, even if unexpected issues arise.

Maintain Routines

Try to maintain as many of your children's routines as possible during the moving process. Familiar routines, such as bedtime rituals or weekly family activities, can provide a sense of stability and normalcy amidst the changes. Consistency is key to helping children feel secure. If some routines must change due to the move, explain these changes in advance and involve them in creating new routines that fit the new environment.

Set Up Their New Room First

When you arrive at your new home, prioritise setting up your children's rooms first. Having a familiar and comfortable space ready for them can ease the transition and make them feel more at home. Allow them to unpack their favourite items and arrange their room as they like. This can give them a sense of stability and ownership in their new surroundings. Encourage them to make their space their own, perhaps by hanging up their favourite posters or setting up their toys just the way they like.

Be Patient and Supportive

Understand that adjusting to a new environment takes time. Your children may experience a range of emotions, from excitement to sadness. Be patient, offer support, and provide reassurance. Encourage them to express their feelings and remind them that it's okay to feel a mix of emotions. Listen actively to their concerns and validate their feelings without dismissing them. Share your own experiences with moving to help them feel understood and less alone.

Preparing your kids for a big move involves careful planning, open communication, and a lot of empathy. By taking these steps, you can help your children embrace the change with confidence and optimism. Remember, the key is to make the move a shared family experience, turning a potentially stressful event into a positive and memorable journey for everyone. With patience, support, and a proactive approach, you can transform the moving process into an adventure that strengthens family bonds and creates lasting memories.

#removalistmaitland #removalists #removals #moving

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kinetic-elaboration · 2 years ago

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September 21: Cleaning DAy

Just a quick note tonight because I don’t really know what I want to talk about and just sitting here staring into space really isn’t helping any thoughts come to mind. I took today off to clean my apartment, and I would say it was, on average, a success. I’m glad I did it.

I’ll admit that I didn’t get done a lot of what I wanted to do and part of that is because I was very ambitious/unrealistic with my to do list and part of that was because I decided I wanted to do ALL the laundry and that is just very time consuming. Everything always takes longer than you think it will or should. Everything, always, in all categories of thing.

And the thing is, while I didn’t intend for this to be an ‘entirely laundry’ day, I did need to do all that laundry. I needed to wash clothes so I could have clothes to wear. But I also had so much other stuff in my laundry basket, it was pretty much unusable. So I did six loads today: 2 of all my clothes, 2 of sheets, 1 of towels, and 1 of a table cloth and some misc items which like maybe wasn’t the most necessary but I really wanted to get to Laundry Basket Zero, and I (basically) did. (Minus a pair of socks that were hiding in the bottom.)

So it took a long time even doing 2 loads at once and that’s fine, you know, that’s just how it is. It could not have taken less time. And I managed a few other things: washed my gross-ass sandals, washed as many dishes as I could fit in my dish rack, cleaned out my fridge, decorated for Halloween, and did some general picking up and so on. I also did about an hour last night where I took out trash and recycling and washed a bunch of dishes.

I did not get to cleaning the rest of my kitchen, the surfaces and so on, or pretty much anything bathroom cleaning. I didn’t get to the floors. And I had some less urgent stuff on the list like fixing up the bookshelf corner (I did the really big stuff there a couple months ago but the bookshelves themselves still need some straightening, etc.) that I definitely did not get to.

But honestly, like, it’s only one day. I knew that going in. I couldn’t work miracles but maybe I would get myself to a place where a little bit of cleaning here and there feels plausible and like it will make some sort of difference. I think I accomplished that. I hope. One benefit that I always forget about whenever I spend a while just not doing something I should be doing is that I remind myself that it’s not that complicated. I am capable. There’s no way to type that without sounding like yeah, duh, of course you can do the thing you’ve repeatedly done in the past. But it’s like I forget just how much effort and time it takes and so I can no longer evaluate the task and it becomes harder to start. I just assume it’s way more daunting than it is. That’s true of cleaning but also writing, errands, certain tasks at work, literally everything.

So I am feeling optimistic. I feel like I made an improvement to my life. And… also on the topic of unexpected benefits, it just actually does feel good to spend a day doing something and feeling accomplished. Like, I know it does, this is not an amazing discovery, but I still let myself have too many kinda bad, listless days. This one, even though I didn’t get up quite as early as intended and I did have a nap later on, mostly because my feet hurt from standing so much, I can still look at, like, the list of things I did today and feel happy.

I have to go back to work tomorrow, which feels weird, and I don’t really want to but I also wouldn’t want to figure out tomorrow’s itinerary if I was staying at home, either. And it’s only one day. So hopefully it goes well, nothing weird, and the weather noticeably cooler, and then I can have a good weekend.

#the year 2023 #2023: rl

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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The Magic Reveal fic we deserve, in which Merlin gets as angry as he deserves to get:

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Don’t get me wrong I LOVE a magic reveal with a Merlin who feels bad about lying. I love a reveal with Arthur being furious and Merlin crying but then they talk it out and all is well. I think it's pretty in-character for Merlin to want to see Arthur come to his own conclusions about magic, without being influenced by Merlin’s opinions

BUT I also kinda wanna see Merlin get angry? Like, why should he feel bad about hiding himself in a kingdom where "himself" gets him nothing but a pyre?? Yeah, he and Arthur are close, but unless you've lived with a secret like that (one that will get you shunned, hated, or even killed) then, and I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, it doesn't matter How Close you are with someone, how certain you are that they would never hurt you, or care either way, it will almost ALWAYS be scary to tell them. So like. Let Merlin get angry:

I'd say Arthur has been king for maybe a year at this point. He's still a new monarch, still a lot on his plate, BUT also still plenty of time for him to have repealed the ban on magic, or at least started working on it.

But he hasn't.

Granted he hasn't executed anyone in a while (banishments and prison time are the norm, executions are only used nowadays for high treason). BUT the law still remains, it's still technically punishable by death, to be a sorcerer.

Arthur and Merlin have little hunting trips, when Arthur is getting too stressed and losing too much sleep, when he trains the knights too hard and snaps at even Gaius, Merlin (or sometimes even Leon, if they're both being grumpy arseholes) insists that they leave the city for a day or more, to go hunting.

The council have been told it's so the King can keep up with his fitness, can keep familiar with his lands, and keep his skills sharp (he only has enough time to train with the knights a couple times a week nowadays, a far cry from the several hours he used to do every morning without fail), and that keeps them satisfied.

The Gang (the Knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana (she's good in this because that's what I want let me have this)) know the truth, that sometimes the two of them just need a few days to goof off and be themselves, to finally get some time to relax. They'll grab a couple hares and maybe a stag on the way back if they can, so they can at least pretend that's what they've been doing the whole time.

These trips can last anywhere between a day, to two weeks, and Arthur leaves the same set of instructions with the council and the knights every time:

"The safety of Camelot’s people is your highest priority. I leave Sir Leon in charge of everything to do with the knights, patrol, and should any form of conflict arise. If there is an emergency, you are to consult the Inner Council (I don’t know if that's a thing but let's say it is; its The Gang), and send a squire on horseback to fetch me immediately. There's one boy in the troupe who always manages to track me the down the quickest, so make sure he's the one sent, Sir Leon knows who I speak of."

(He's improved over the years, but Arthur is still very... cagey, when it comes to compliments, and his trust. Leon will never mention it, but the fact that Arthur leaves the safety of the kingdom to him, without hesitation or worry, makes him feel greatly honoured. That is the highest form of trust Arthur is capable of giving.)

ANYWAY I feel like most of this has just been backstory so let's get into it:

Normally it's Merlin or Leon who demand that the trip needs to happen.

This time

It's Arthur.

Arthur has tried to ignore it (he's trying to get better but he's not great with emotions and stuff, the big dummy) but Merlin has been in a sour mood for weeks now. He's been quiet and withdrawn, snappy, and has been avoiding Arthur whenever possible.

At first it was easy to ignore, when it started a few months ago it was barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know the two of them Very Well, but in the last few weeks it's become a problem.

Arthur reckons a trip might do them some good. Merlin can relax, and will either get over whatever is bothering him, or be comfortable enough to talk to Arthur about it.

So they head out. Merlin doesn't seem too happy about the trip but he doesn’t complain.

(Odd in itself, if Merlin is unhappy about something he usually makes it known.)

The first couple of days are... odd, to say the least. It seems that every time Arthur notices Merlin relax, he quickly tightens up again. One short, joking conversation is followed by a few more hours of painful, awkward silence.

Arthur comes to the daunting realisation, that if he wants to help is friend (and the love of his life but like... baby blondie has hardly reached that conclusion himself, he might need a bit more time on that) is to confront it head on.

So they're settling down in the evening. The fire is roaring, the horses have been fed and watered, dinner has been eaten, and the two of them are sat at opposite ends of the fire (Very Odd, they're usually glued at the hip, especially when it's just the two of them).

Arthur looks at his friend properly for the first times in a while and he Does Not Like what he sees.

Merlin is visibly exhausted, big bags under his eyes, and his skin paler than normal, scowling ever so slightly into the fire. Shoulders tense, and hands gripping each other until the skin on his knuckles is white. And despite all that, Arthur thinks that Merlin looks more sad, than angry.

Maybe Merlin notices Arthur's staring, they hold eye contact for a little while before Merlin becomes sort of... resigned?? To the fact that he's gonna have to have this conversation whether he wants it or not? He goes to say something but before he can, Arthur interrupts him:

"So Merlin. How do you think I'm doing so far?"

(Which is a stupid thing to say, really. But Arthur is, as we've already established, extremely emotionally constipated, and he figures that finding out what's wrong with Merlin indirectly, and then subtly fixing it behind his back, is a far better idea than asking him to his face.)

Merlin clenches his jaw and looks away it this, his reply and his body language clearly sending different messages:

"You know what I think. You're going to be a great king."

Arthur thinks : "(Going to be? I've been king for a year, there's been no war and far fewer attempts on my life than when I was a prince. There's been a good harvest, all diplomatic meetings have gone well, and more peace treaties, and trade agreements, have been signed in the last twelve months, than in the ten years before it. I know I can still do better but... does Merlin not think I'm good?")

Arthur says : "Going to be? I think I'm a pretty great King already if I do say so myself."

"Then why ask? Besides. There are a few things you haven't done."

Merlin's tone is biting, even though he tries to force it out casually. Arthur notices. ”There are a few things you haven't done”... that means something specific.

"Hmm. I suppose. What things did you have in mind then, Merlin?"

Arthur also tries to sound casual, but the question comes out very pointed

Merlin desperately doesn't want to say it out loud, in fear of revealing too much of himself, so he goes with the vague answer of:

"Promises were made. I guess I just figured you weren't the type to break them, that's all. I'm sure you'll get there in time."

Merlin sounds sort of hopeful there. But the sort of hope that he's been living with for years, the sort of hope that has a layer of sadness and resignation laying over the the top like a tablecloth.

Arthur notices:

"Promises?" He doesn’t want to talk too much or too loudly, in fear that Merlin realises that he's speaking openly and clams up again.

Arthur has realised, over the last year or two, that despite their closeness, despite the endless conversations they seem to have, he doesn't really know all that much about Merlin. He knows he doesn’t spend as much time picking herbs, or in the tavern, as he and Gaius would claim. He doesn't know his favourite colour, or season, or holiday. He doesn't know when abouts his birthday is, or what he likes eating. He doesn't know much about his childhood, he's never mentioned his father.

(Despite all this, he's still in love with the idiot, but again, a revelation for another time.)

Merlin responds "To the druids. You promised they would be welcomed, that magic would return. I know your opinions on magic-"

(The manservant visibly shuffles at this, uncomfortable.)

"-but I figured a promise is a promise. Keeping your word had always seemed so important to you. Before."

Arthur notices the past tense. Like Merlin doesn’t believe that Arthur holds importance to his word anymore:

"I'm not my father Merlin. There have been no executions just for the sake of it since I took the crown."

Merlin’s reply comes quickly, in a harsh tone:

"Yes I know that. But your fathers law still remains. It's technically still punishable by execution just to exist as a sorcerer in your kingdom."

(Arthur notices the thinly veiled disgust in Merlin's voice when he mentions Uther. Arthur knew that Merlin disliked the previous king, but he didn’t think he hated him that much.)

Merlin is getting more and more visibly frustrated at this point. Both at Arthur, and the topic of conversation, but also at himself, for letting himself become so worked up over something he'd sworn to keep Arthur away from.

"You really didn't like my Father did you Merlin?" He says it with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.

(This is NOT a conversation that should be light and casual, his friend is in pain, and revealing more of himself than he ever had before, this should be serious. But Arthur isn't quite sure how to do that, so inappropriately light and casual is what he goes for.)

Merlin responds with a quiet, but forceful:

"I hated him. I still do. He's your father, I know that you're not him, and I know you can't help your heritage. But I'll never forgive Uther for what he did. And I'm not angry that he's...gone."

Arthur's very much taken aback at that. He knows everyone has... strong opinions on Uther, but they've never voiced it in front of him.

"Why?? I mean I know he put you in the stocks a couple of times, but so have I to be fair. Why do you hate him so much?"

(This is the point Merlin gets angry. Or angrier. This is when he stops trying to hide it, stops trying to hold it in. Arthur hadn't gotten angry at Merlin for talking about Uther in such a way, he was just curious. Merlin had been planning on telling him the truth at some point anyway, so he might as well do it now, with no one else around, and Arthur in a goodish mood.)

Merlin jumps up, clenching his fists and staring Arthur in the eye for the first time since the start of the conversation, breathing deeply.

Arthur is taken even further aback at Merlin's sudden unwillingness to hide his true reaction to the topic at hand, but he doesn't say anything, and just waits for Merlin’s response

"Why?? Why do I hate him? Maybe because he was blinded fear and selfish hatred."

Merlin stops and looks away, but doesn't sit down, still tense.

I imagine he's waiting for Arthur to say something, but he doesn’t, opting to wait for Merlin to carry on himself, unwilling to remind Merlin exactly who he was talking to, and about what.

After a few moments of silence, Merlin continues, getting angrier with each word as he paces:

"Your father, the Great King Uther, murdered thousands of people. He committed genocide, because he insisted on blaming other people for his own mistakes. He didn't pay attention to the fine print, and killed his own wife and in return, he executes THOUSANDS of MY people. Just for daring to exist. He was so full of hatred, but he, of course, was infallible so it MUST have been someone else's fault. He was incapable of admitting his own mistakes and the injustice that went unpunished is indescribable, he was a tyrant, and a murderer, and I'll never forgive him."

(Arthur knows the truth about what happened to his Ma in this story, I don’t know how, he just does. And it's a topic of conversation he avoids like the plague.)

At the end of his little outburst, Merlin stills. He is shaking as he glares at the floor, and is more furious than Arthur has ever seen him before.

The King notices the little slip up.

"Your people?" He says, so quietly it's a wonder Merlin hears it.

Merlin freezes at this, at the realisation that there's no real way he can play this off. He was planning on telling him at some point anyway. They're miles away from the city in the middle of a large, barely tamed forest. If he needs to run for his life, he could get away easily enough.

"Yes Arthur. My people. You really should've let me speak first."

Arthur is reminded of the fact that Merlin had opened his mouth to say something, before he'd interrupted him at the beginning of the conversation. It felt like it was hours ago now, but it was really only a few minutes.

The King isn’t nearly as shocked as he thinks he should be. He knew there was something odd and secretive about Merlin, and he'd considered that he might have magic in the early days, but that hadn't been a genuine consideration for years.

He wants to be angry, and selfish, and furious at Merlin for lying to him all this time. But after hearing Merlin’s little speech, does he really have any right to?

Yes, Arthur hadn't executed any sorcerers, but he also hadn't changed the law. He hadn't stood up to his father and he certainly hadn't tried to stop the executions before he was King himself. Can he really blame Merlin? For being scared? For being angry?

"You're a sorcerer." It's not a question. It's a statement. In his mind he knows the truth, but it needs to be confirmed, out loud, by Merlin himself, before they can move the conversation on.

"Yes."

And that's all he says. Arthur waits. And when he's tired of waiting, when he realises that Merlin isn't just gonna carry on talking this time, he speaks up:

"And?"

"And what, Arthur? What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I lied? Yes, I feel bad for lying to you, but I'll never apologise for protecting myself in a kingdom that would see me burn. And I would do it again in a heartbeat"

Arthur nods. He's tense, but he notices that he isn't scared and he wonders why, after all, as far as he was aware magic had only (almost only) caused him pain and fear.

(In the back of his mind he knows why he's not scared. Merlin doesn't have an evil bone in his body, and he's met the druids, he knows that some magic users are peaceful.)

He looks up at Merlin to see him staring at him, a sort of challenging look on his face, like he was daring Arthur to prove him right. Daring him to be selfish, and angry, and just like his father.

But when Arthur looks deeper. Really Looks at Merlin. He sees the fear, Arthur has no doubt in his mind that Merlin could escape, or even fight him off, now, if he needed to. But Merlin is scared.

If that wasn't enough to break Arthur's heart, the quick glance that Merlin throws to the space a few feet from Arthur's side, is.

Arthur looks over slowly, eyebrows furrowed, to see what Merlin glanced at so fearfully. His heart shatters when he realises what it is. Arthurs sword, sat underneath his bag, just out of his reach. Merlin thinks Arthur is going to kill him. Merlin is scared. Of Arthur.

Arthur looks back at Merlin, disbelief and gut wrenching sadness on his face. He resists the urge to jump up (knowing it would just panic Merlin) as he speaks, trying to keep his tone calming, but it comes out rushed and desperate anyway:

"I'm not going to hurt you Merlin, I swear. I'm...sorry, if my actions and words have led you to believe that I would EVER see any harm come to you."

It's over the last minute, the anger and fear from Merlin, that forces Arthur to realise the legacy he's dealing with. That Uther had done so much damage, had struck so much fear into Merlin, that it didn't matter how close they were. Any subtle, deliberate ignorance of the law wasn’t enough. Any small compliments, or defence of Merlin, wasn't enough.

As long as the law remained, as long as Arthur left his fathers legacy intact, with not even a small attempt to dismantle it, Merlin would be scared of him.

Merlin relaxes only slightly at Arthur's words, gulps, and glances once more at the sword before sitting down again. He’s still tense as he stares into the fire once more.

"All these years you've been putting your life at risk, to stay at my side. You could've quit at any time. You could've stayed in the relative safety of Ealdor, but you didn't. Why? I want to know everything Merlin. You... you mean a great deal to me, and it pains me to see you in fear. And I know it's no one’s fault but my own, and I want to fix it. So the whole story, from the beginning, I want to know."

It's Merlin’s turn to be taken aback now. In his mind, everything he's said and done in the last few minutes should be making Arthur angry. The disrespect of Uther, the tone of voice he had taken, the shouting. All of that even before the admittance of his greatest secret. But still Arthur wasn't angry, he was confused, and maybe hadn't quite processed it yet, but mostly he was just sad, sad that Merlin had to be angry on his own. Sad that Merlin had to be fearful on his own.

So he does. He starts at the beginning. His mother sending him to Camelot so Gaius could train him. Saving Arthurs life that first banquet. Saving his life again a few days later. And again. And again. And again

He talks about all the small insignificant magicks he did: cheating at dice games and keeping Arthur's bath water warm and making sure the fire stays lit through the night and helping the knights sleep when they're out and about.

He talks about all the big magicks he did: killing Nimueh and being the last Dragon-Lord and Balinor being his father, and all the great battles he had won and all the times he'd saved Arthur when Arthur hadn't even realised he'd been in danger.

He talks about everything in between. About every lucky fallen branch and every lucky rockslide and every lucky solution that wouldn't have worked without Merlin... nudging it in the right direction.

He talks and talks and talks until his throat is sore. And Arthur stays silent, unwilling to interrupt, listening intently and saving any questions and queries until the end.

After an hour or so, Merlin hesitates, but Arthur can tell that there's something else. Something he's not saying. Something that in Merlin's mind, is the scariest truth of all. So he stays silent, and waits for Merlin to continue:

"The old man that you think killed your father. Dragoon, the sorcerer who kept popping up but was never in the same room as me? That was me, in disguise."

He looks nervous at this and looks up at Arthur. Before, he'd been explaining everything with a blank but resolute look on his face, still staring into the fire (that hadn't been fed in well over an hour, but was still going strong).

Arthur just looks surprised, he'd never considered that Dragoon had been anyone but himself.

"I tried Arthur. I may have hated your father but I tried to save him. But the pendant around his neck stopped it from working and healing magic has never been my strong point anyway. I really did try."

Arthur nods at this. He figured there had been no reason for the old sorcerer to kill his father, and after consulting Gaius and realising the truth about the pendant, he didn't blame him. Though he never told anyone, not even Merlin, why would he? His manservant had never even met the guy.

"I know. I'm sorry, it can’t have been easy, thinking I blamed you for his death all these months. I'm sorry Merlin."

Merlin looks surprised but quietly grateful. Over the course of the last hour of explanation he had slowly become more and more relaxed, realising that Arthur really meant it when he said he wasn't going to hurt him, and just wanted the truth.

Merlin was still scared, and a big part of him still believed he'd probably be banished at the least at the end of this conversation. But it still felt good to get it off his chest.

"But you still haven't answered my question. Why? We didn't know each all that well those first few weeks. Months even. We practically hated each other at the beginning. But you stayed anyway. Despite hating me and despite being in constant danger. Why?"

Merlin once again hesitates at this. He tried his best but even after all these years, he's not quite sure how to navigate conversations about destiny, especially his own, and especially how it's tied so intrinsically with Arthur’s.

Instead he says:

"What do you know about Emrys?" He really needs a starting reference for this part of the conversation, and at this point, the best way to get it is to ask directly.

Arthur goes to question why, but Merlin has been nothing but honest and straight forward with him, so he trusts that it’s important, and answers truthfully:

"Not much. A few Druids have mentioned him to me before. Apparently they've been seeing him in prophetic dreams for centuries, the Druids have quite a few "seers" in their ranks. He's meant to be some great sorcerer, whose destiny it is to bring Magic and peace to Albion, with some King or other at his side. I never payed much attention to it, I hardly believe in visions of the future."

Merlin nods at that:

"You've got most of it. Emrys is meant to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past, present, and future. When Uther started culling sorcerers, an astronomical amount of magic was poured back into the earth all at once. The Triple Goddess took that magic and put it all in one place, in one unborn baby, in the hope that said baby would grow into his power, and restore balance and compassion to the world. The Druids call him Emrys but it's just a title, like King, or Sir, not his real name. He, and the Once and Future King, are meant to rule with the support of one another, uniting all of Albion under the King’s rule, and bringing magic back into the land. Emrys and the Forever King, two sides of the same coin, their destinies interwoven."

Merlin goes silent at that, and Arthur thinks he knows where this is going, but he Needs the confirmation:

"What's that got to do with anything?" is quietly muttered.

"You're the Forever King Arthur. And I am Emrys. Though it's weird enough when the druids call me that so just... let's stick with Merlin alright?"

"All those times you said I would be a great King, all those times you had unfailing faith in me, was because of destiny?"

Arthur tries not so sound hurt, but he’s never cared for, or believed, in destiny. Up until now he'd thought Merlin had had faith in him as Arthur, his friend, not as some prophetic Once and Future King that Arthur was afraid he would never be.

"At first, sure. I was angry, that my destiny had been decided for me. That I couldn't just ignore it because if I did then the world would never know peace. I never asked for that responsibility I just wanted... I just wanted to keep my mother safe. I wanted to learn how to be a physician and use my magic to help and entertain and brighten the world. Just a little bit. And suddenly I had this big important role to play. I hated it. But I did it anyway, kept you safe. And then I got to know you as a person and you weren't your father. You Love Camelot, you Love your people, you're a good man who does everything in his power to help those around him, even if they don't deserve it sometimes. And suddenly, having my destiny be to help you to greatness... well, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Maybe it was your destiny to be that Great King from prophecy, because you were already a good man."

Arthur is speechless at that. Tears gather in his eyes but neither of them mention it and he doesn't let them fall. Merlin had been almost as nice as that in the past, but never so fully, and with the weight of the truth behind it, it seemed much more meaningful.

Merlin gives him a sad smile before he continues:

"I'm your servant until the day I die Arthur. I have faith that one day, you'll do the right thing."

Arthur suddenly remember the whole point of this conversation. That Merlin was upset and angry that he hadn't repealed the ban on magic yet, that Merlin was still waiting on him. Waiting on him to do the right thing. Waiting on him to fulfil his destiny.

Maybe they head straight home? Merlin walks into Arthur's chambers the next morning to find him already up and pacing, making a start on the repeal?

Maybe Arthur demands they go to the closest Druid settlement so he can consult them on how he should go about it? Merlin’s knowledge of magic is great and all, but neither of them were alive before the purge, neither know how it would work practically.

All I know, is whenever Merlin first comes across Arthur working on the repeal, determination in his eyes, he cries a little. That everything he sacrificed is finally paying off.

I also know, that the first time Arthur timidly asks Merlin to show him something magical (maybe that's straight after this tiring conversation, or maybe its days later, back in the safety of Arthur's locked chambers) Merlin cries even harder, Arthur is still scared of magic, how could he not be. But he loves and trusts Merlin more than anything in this world, and he wants to learn to not be scared anymore.

THIS IS COMPLETED!!

All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific, let me know✌

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ask-the-prose · 4 years ago

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the concept of writing poetry can be intimidating for many people. i've met people who abandoned the hobby altogether because they felt they weren't cut out for it. it seems to be a common belief that you have to be very introspective in order to be skilled, but the truth is, anyone can write poetry with a bit of practice! i've compiled a few tips which i hope will motivate you to pick up your pen again, or to try out an art form you haven't pursued before. happy writing :)

- my first tip is to expand your vocabulary. whenever you're reading something and a word stands out to you, write it down! you can also quiz yourself on the meanings of the words every now and then.

- however, your poetry doesn't always have to use flowery language, or rhyme, or have many stanzas. the most important thing is getting your feelings on paper.

- if you do want to use metaphors and you're having trouble thinking of examples, try drawing inspiration from nature specifically. water, fire, sunlight, plants, and so on can be very symbolic.

- write from the perspective of other people. it can be a loved one, but what i especially love to do is write as a fictional character. try using motifs that remind you of the person, too.

- find inspiration! start reading more poetry, and analyze lyrics from your favorite songs. it's easier to write once you've established what style you're interested in.

- less can be more. when writing a topic, there's nothing wrong with trying to describe the big picture, but the most emotion can be conveyed when focusing on one or two details. for example, instead of feeling daunted by writing about the entirety of depression, you could just focus on the isolation that comes with it. being specific can make your work really cut deep for readers.

- try establishing rules for yourself. maybe you could restrict using certain words or topics. this could apply to just one poem, or it can be a general rule. it helps your creativity flow.

- you don't have to force yourself to write if you're just not feeling creative. i know that for me, not having fun tends to show up in my work.

- write poetry the next time you're put on anesthesia. this is a really weird one, but both my sister and i have done it and had surprisingly good results? it's also funny to look back on how many typos you made.

~ arden <3

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing advice #amwriting #poets on tumblr #poems #poetry #creative counsel commune #written by arden

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brat-tamer69 · 4 years ago

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Dead Branches and New Leaves

♡ Summary: Levi’s relationship with his son Eren reaches a new low, and Y/N is there to confront Levi in an effort to rebuild. Very much inspired by this picture and in response to this request.

Part Two TBA

♡ Notable Tags: AU, Married, Parenting, Levi x Fem!Reader, Broken family, daddy issues, argument, angst and over 3k words holy shit!

❥ Disclaimer: Levi and his actions in this are not intended to be perceived as anything other than him being emotionally unavailable. He lost his temper and it is acknowledged numerous times that he is remorseful. I would like to emphasize that he is not emotionally or verbally abusive but this content may be upsetting to some readers. Please use your own discretion if you are sensitive to the topics.

♡ Send requests here!

Levi’s head instinctively whipped around to face the house’s front entrance when the screen gritted against the doorframe’s track. If he was not mistaken, his son would come bounding into the house from the front yard to ask for yet another snack. And Levi would once again shave down a carrot and before handing it over so it could be crunched down in seconds. How the kid had the energy to take off and put on his rain boots so many times in such quick succession, Levi didn’t know. But Eren did thankfully understand that if not for that talent, his dad would rip him a new one for tracking mud onto the freshly mopped tile.

As if summoned by thought alone, the percussive pattern of little feet hitting the floors echoed, and the urgency in it suggested that he was running. Levi pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, trying to cling onto what felt like the last second of peace he might have since Eren was running.

“Dad! Dad!” the toddler addressed him shrilly.

“What is it, runt?” Levi sighed and rotated in his spot in front of the stove to face his son.

“I was playing outside, and- and there was a big boom in the sky! And- And I wasn’t scared at all,” he added matter-of-factly. “But there was a little kitty outside, and I think him was scared.”

Levi stared down at the boy, bemused by how he managed to squirm and point every which way during a ten-second-long story. He then shifted his gaze back in the direction of the screen door, praying that Eren had possessed enough sense to close it behind him on the way in as the heavy rain had been accompanied by wind all morning. Levi had bargained with Y/N to support his stance of keeping Eren indoors but, in exercise of her wonderful parenting strategy, she insisted it would be better for him to play outside and get used to the daunting nature of thunderstorms.

Well, it’s working, Levi noted as he circled around the “big boom” Eren pointedly mentioned he wasn’t scared of. Still, his concerns were loyal to the furry little pest that seemed to be taking shelter in his front yard. “It’s ‘he was scared’,” Levi corrected. “And that’s too bad. Maybe he’ll run off somewhere safe on his own.”

Eren deflated, his shoulders and his volume falling while the size of his eyes grew. “But what if he can’t, Dad? What if the rain gets him sick?”

“Then the rain gets him sick,” Levi shrugged. “Not everything is meant to survive in this kind of weather, Eren. Besides, he might already be sick if he’s out there hanging around our house.”

An indiscernible emotion flashed across Eren’s face and disappeared just as quickly Levi picked up on it. But before he could engage, Eren was sprinting away and to the front yard again.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to the likes of himself. One thing he’d learned since become a father was that the less he knew, the better. If Eren did do something drastic like fall into a puddle of mud or befriend a sickly cat, he would scale the mountain of mishap once he approached it. For now, he had his focus on finishing dinner just as he promised his wife he would, and that was all he had the mental energy to do.

Perhaps one too many moments passed where Levi worked on simmering his kimchi nabe in the quiet, the slightly gentler rain being the only noise in the background. As he replaced the lid to the pot, he seemed to simultaneously sink back into reality. The thunder had finally ebbed. Y/N was still working on hemming some of Eren’s new clothes…

And Eren. The damn toddler that was notorious for popping up for snacks and attention hadn’t reappeared once in the past twenty minutes. The thought made Levi’s mouth dry and his throat swell faster than they would if he’d have swallowed a handful of cotton rounds. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. A clenched fist still equipped with a ladle, Levi set a brisk stride toward the front yard where, if his nonexistent god had any mercy, Eren would still be playing in the rain.

During the walk, the rain, the shuffle of his house slippers against the tile, and every other noise slowly faded. All he had in his ears was the vivid imaginary scream of his wife as she found out her son went missing under his watch. And the image of Eren with teary eyes burdened by fear was not any kinder to his growing panic.

“Shit–” he spat.

“Momma said that’s a curse.”

Levi looked down at the origin of the voice, the relief he felt in seeing Eren standing in front of him in perfectly healthy condition lasting but a second. It was instantly replaced by rage. As the panic drained from his body, every inch of him became ignited by disgust, disappointment, grief and a slew of other emotions he was too angry to even process. The blankness in his mind caused by the adrenaline rush was being filled in by the stench of the sopping wet stray cat being held out in front of him. “Eren…” he seethed in a low voice. “What the hell is that?”

Eren chewed his lower lip in hesitation. Levi almost wrenched when the boy had the gall to hoist the rancid being up higher, as if his father wanted to inspect it. “It’s the kitty! See?” he answered in earnest. “It’s the kitty I told you about! I told him to go find a new house so he doesn’t get sick, but he didn’t want to! And his tummy is bleeding, too!”

A soaking wet, bloody, feral cat. Levi didn’t know if he should give in to the hysterical, exasperated laughter bubbling in the depths of his stomach or if falling to his knees and sobbing would free him from the chaos he felt. Helpless to his anger toward his own child, all he could do was touch his hand to his face in a feeble display of his emotion. The outwardly endless consequences to Eren bringing a bleeding cat inside the house started to appear in his mind one by one, each adding to the pressure he felt building underneath his temples.

“Daddy?” Eren squeaked.

Levi was so distracted by his inner turmoil that he hadn’t even realized the minutes of silence that passed between them. “Go put it outside and wash your hands. Now.”

By the particular tone of voice his father used, Eren knew better than than to disobey him—even a single casual command from Levi would normally be enough to move him. But after trading glances between his dad and the injured cat, Eren shook his head.

Levi was in disbelief. He could feel his heart racing with every ounce of searing blood it sent through his veins. His hand trembled as it gradually fell from his face to reveal a nearly crazed expression, his eyes opened as wide as they could go but his brows furrowed impossibly low over them. “Did you just shake your head at me, boy?”

“Uh, well, the- the kitty is scared and has blood on him,” Eren gulped. “H-He can’t stay outsi–”

“Put it outside. And the next time I have to repeat myself, I’ll put you and the damn cat out.”

A small gasp escaped Eren’s quivering lips, but he swallowed it quickly before tucking the cat underneath his arm and escaping out the front door in a flash. Levi sucked in a shuddered breath, only now noticing the thick, brown splatters of mud and the droplets of red that created a trail to the yard and soiled his previously spotless tile.

“What happened? Where’s Eren?” Y/N’s soft voice questioned as she paced into the kitchen. “I heard you raise your voice. What’s going on?”

The worry in his wife’s shaky words gave way to her equal distress if not for the hand gently laid over her heart. It was enough to draw the ire from Levi’s body. Like the bright red leaving the eye of a cooling stove, anger steadily seeped from parts of him he wasn’t even aware were tensed. His set jaw unclenched, he lowered his shoulders and his fingers loosened from their intense hold on the ladle.

“Eren,” Levi replied to his wife in a breath at long last.

“Eren what?” she urged, her pupils growing.

“Eren’s fine. He just brought a fucking dying cat into our house.”

Confusion distorted Y/N’s features while her eyes moved frantically across Levi’s face in search for some sort of unspoken answer. When she didn’t receive it, she whirled around with a small huff then grabbed a fistful of her skirts and hurried to the front yard.

By her reaction itself, Levi knew he was finished. Y/N’s kindness knew no bounds in even the most stressful situation. In circumstances where his own instinct would be to react first, his wife was guided by the purest ethics; she would comfort, ask questions then gather herself enough to find a solution. But her consideration skipped him this time, and it was because she was livid with him. Levi could tell that much.

Bending at the knee to retrieve the cleaning supplies from the cabinets, he expelled a wearied sigh. He figured there was no better way to postpone is annoyance with the situation than by losing himself in the pleasures of cleaning on his hands and knees. He forced himself to focus on the acrid scent of chemicals burning his nostrils instead of the gut-wrenching sobs he could hear once his wife opened the front door. He tried to remember which solution was best to polish the ivory colored tile, but god damn it, he couldn’t think when he saw Eren’s little body, defeated and dripping wet, shuffling down the hall. His knuckles blanched as he all but strangled the cloth, putting all his upper body strength into scrubbing away what little remained of the muddy footprints.

Y/N watched Levi in silence for a brief period, absorbing how pathetic he looked down on the floor, frantically erasing the nonexistent spots while his son cried himself to sleep in the other room. She didn’t know what possessed her, but her nails were starting to dig into her palms in effect of how hard she was trying to contain it. If not for the pitiful picture of her baby boy standing outside, wailing over the corpse of a cat, she might have been frightened; she had never felt this way about Levi. But today was different—for everyone.

Levi released his rag and sat back on his heels when the shadow of his wife fell over him. At the same time, a coldness that he was far from feeling fell over his eyes. He could only hope it would protect him even a little bit.

“What the hell did you do?” Y/N demanded of him through her teeth, her voice faulted by an emotional tremolo.

He rose to face her and swiped his palms over his apron. “I did what any parent would do if their kid brought in a dying cat from outside. I told him to put the vermin back where he found it and wash his hands.”

“You cursed at him,” she sneered. “And you threatened to put him out of the house if he didn’t listen to you. It’s raining!”

He tried to keep his voice leveled though his need to emphasize his point superseded the attempt. “Well, if he listened to me the first time, I wouldn’t have cursed. And he’s a smart kid– He knows I wasn’t going to put him out.”

Already jaded by the argument, Levi mentally readied himself for Y/N’s rebuttal. But it didn’t come. Instead, her open hand flashed across his line of peripheral vision, and if it weren’t for his unique reflexes, it would have left a bright red print on his left cheek. Overwhelmed by the sequence of events, Levi’s defenses fell. By putting his energy in holding his wife’s wrist tightly, just mere inches away from his face, he’d lost his composure. His mouth went dry as it fell slightly agape and his eyebrows were pressed upwards together in sheer astonishment.

“Y/N–”

“You bastard!” she cried, her tears leaking through her voice as well as onto her face. “Do you have any idea how scared and alone he felt, watching that cat die in the rain?! And to make things worse, you were punishing him for your selfish ass obsession with keeping the house clean!”

Levi’s eyes darted past his distraught wife and landed on Eren’s bedroom door, paranoid that his mother’s shrieks might wake him. “It wasn’t like that.”

Y/N shook her wrist in his hold defiantly. “Then explain it to me! Explain to me what the hell you wanted to do! What, were you scared of telling him he couldn’t keep it?”

“No, I wasn’t!” he growled back. “The first thing I told him to do was let the damn thing go. It was a dying cat, Y/N! That thing could have given him or any one of us all kinds of diseases with its filthy fur in seconds! What if it had bit him or scratched him?”

Y/N met her husband’s eyes squarely and stared into them for an unwavering minute. His volume had fallen off marginally by the end of his question. Her eyes narrowed as his softened. She caught him. Letting out a mirthless laugh, she finally ripped her wrist from his grip. “You didn’t even check if it did, so why are you bringing that up as if you actually care?” she whispered.

Shit. “He would have told me it did,” he answered then swallowed, not quite convinced of his answer himself.

“Don’t you get it? He doesn’t want to tell you anything, Levi. And he wouldn’t ever if he had the choice.” He braced himself as he noticed her hands balled at either side of her waist. “You’re so goddamn bent on policing him that you forget to parent him, and you’re nothing but an authoritarian that feeds him. Our son has the biggest heart, and by the way you treat him, he would never know that he got any of it from you because you act just like your father figure, not his.”

Levi prided himself on his steel-like aplomb. But if anyone could melt steel, it was Y/N and any selection of words that came from her heart. Often times, they were sweet—almost cloying as he felt he never deserved her praise. This time, they were filled with venom and provided a sensation no different than someone plunging a blade between his lungs. In fact, each of his breaths in following were shaky at best.

Y/N knew that Levi hated being likened to the weasel of a man that raised him almost as much as he hated the man himself. Still, she pressed on, resolved to defend Eren and put an end to the struggles he had with his dad. “You’re silent,” she pointed out. “Because you know it’s true. I’ve tried so many times to get you to understand, to be more gentle with Eren, and you just aren’t. Today would have been the perfect opportunity for you to bond with him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t even treat him like he was worth something. You didn’t reason with him. You didn’t listen, you didn’t explain the why’s or even make sure he wasn’t being hurt by what was happening. You just cursed at a child– My child for having empathy. And you let him sit out in the rain, grieving and crying alone.”

Nausea washed over Levi as the color drained from his face. He felt as though someone had tied an anchor to his lungs and allowed them to dangle precariously in his chest. Tears sprung to his eyes when he realized that the way Y/N described the evening’s events were simply how it happened for Eren. While Levi had been driven by his compulsion toward cleanliness, Eren was acting on his innocence. The child wasn’t hardened by and consequently numb to death like his father was. Eren only saw an injured animal, retrieved it then looked to his dad for help. And Levi had sent him away, practically abandoning him. Even if it was just for the moment that he’d lost his temper, the impact on Eren was irrevocable.

He started to fix his lips to apologize, but he knew the words would be insultingly inadequate given the circumstance. “What do you want me to do, Y/N?” he asked thickly.

By the time his words were out, it seemed an eternity had passed and Y/N already had most of her back to him. What he could see of her face was a perfect and painfully personal illustration of disillusionment. “I want you to stay here, with Eren.”

“What?” Levi felt his own voice sounded like a distant echo in the room.

“I can’t stand to look at you, to be perfectly honest. And you hurt Eren more than you’ll ever know. You need to fix this—all of it while he’s young or you’ll never have the relationship with him that I always wanted for the both of you.”

Y/N turned to walk away again, but in this instance, it felt more final. It was why Levi threw his hand out toward her as if it had any power to halt her from such a distance. “Now you stop right there,” he ground out, masking his misery with a roughness. “You can’t just leave after the shit you’ve said. So where the hell do you think you’re going?”

She paused, providing truth in her earlier statement by keeping her eyes trained on one of the pristinely cleaned tiles. “I’m going to say goodbye to Eren then going to my mom’s house. And if he’s not attached to you by the time I get back, then you can set up a new living arrangement with her.”

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Melusine

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,221

Warnings: Brief depiction of pseudo-drowning

Premise: In which the reader’s somewhat inexplicable fear of water prompts questioning

Author’s Note: This prompt reminded me of the book (and series) The Tail of Emily Windsnap, which, if you haven’t read at least the first book, you totally should read as it’s just really a wonderful read. The descriptions of the ocean are especially atmospheric. Anyways, as for the prompt, I had a lot of fun. I tried to write a mermaid story in middle school and while it didn’t go that well I have a lot of nostalgia for the mermaid genre. Though this was more about the discovery than actually being a mermaid.

Also the title is a pseudo-historical reference.

Albedo

The first time it had happened Albedo had brushed off the whole incident as completely explainable. After all, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t explained what had happened.

You two had been sitting on one of the craggy hills of the Whispering Woods, you sprawled on the grass, Albedo attempting to paint a landscape of Mondstadt, one of the more ambitious paintings in his current portfolio. Especially since he had traded his more opaque oils for the gentler tones of watercolors. At one point he must have made some sort of noise of frustration, for you lifted yourself out of the shade and made your way over to the canvas.

“That looks absolutely lovely Albedo!” Your smile had always had a calming affect on the alchemist, and this time was no different. Albedo could feel the tension slowly leeching away from his shoulders.

“Do you think so? I’m afraid that I still can’t handle all the odd shadows the buildings cast.”

“The buildings look perfect to me! Though if you feel that way, maybe you could lighten the side facing the sun a little more instead of darkening the area over here? So the shade doesn’t become too muddy.”

“You have a wonderful eye, you know,” Albedo replied, smiling at the way your mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had drawn as well. Reaching for the bowl of water next to him Albedo went to water his brush a little more before trying again.

Unfortunately that’s when things appeared to have taken a turn for the wrong. Instead of reaching over the bowl Albedo’s elbow collided with the glass. Though the grass was soft and close enough to prevent any damage, that didn’t stop all the muddied water from spilling out over the brim and right over you. You let out a sort of squeak, and for a moment Albedo though it was just the initial shock, but then the expression on your face came into view and Albedo could immediately sense you were seconds away from panic.

“Is something wrong?”

“I, I don’t like water very much,” you let out a strained laugh. “I just, I don’t know. I really, really don’t like water.”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo immediately replied.

Taking off his coat he did his best to dry you off, wiping off your arms and attempting a valiant effort with your now sopping clothes. Though you assured him that it would be alright the alchemist could sense those were only platitudes, and it wasn’t until you seemed significantly calmer that Albedo turned to pick up the bowl and refill it in Cider Lake. And though a part of his mind wished to delve deeper into what had happened he pulled himself back, figuring it wouldn’t help you if he was suddenly enquiring over something you were afraid of.

Now perhaps that should have been the long and the short of it, but the revelation had begun to make Albedo see water everywhere and, more importantly, see how much it appeared to affect you every time you appeared to come in close contact with it.

Thankfully you didn’t seem to have trouble with water in glasses, at least as long as someone was actively drinking it. If not however you would glance at the glass every so often, as if it were your mortal enemy, waiting to catch you off guard to it might tip its contents all over your clothes. Other things, like obsessively drying your wands after washing them and draping layers of towels over your shoulders when you washed your hair, also became apparent. Suddenly Albedo couldn’t stop noticing your discomfort, and the more he noticed the more he wished he could do something about it.

“Exposure therapy?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting on Albedo’s desk, leaning slightly over your partner, a slightly bemused look on your face. It had been about three weeks since the incident, and finally Albedo thought he might have found some sort of solution to your problem. Now he eagerly pressed forward, figuring you’d understand once he’d explained everything fully.

“I know that it might seem counterproductive to subject you to what gets a frightened reaction out of you, but if you subject a person to something they’re afraid of in very small doses over a long period of time, usually they begin to feel a little less afraid of the thing in question. It’s sort of like how you can sometimes make allergies less serious by slowly exposing the patient to more and more of the allergen.”

“I understand where your line of thought is coming from Albedo, but I’m really not sure if this is the best idea for me.”

“I know that it might seem daunting at first. I would not bring up the topic if you didn’t seem so miserable sometimes. I worry that you might become so unhappy by your fear that it will become debilitating eventually. That is why I decided to bring up the option.”

“I really appreciate you going out of your way to think about me Albedo. I really do. I think what you’re trying to do is very kind and noble of you. But in all honesty I don’t think that’s going to work. You see, the way my fear works, I just don’t think that exposure is going to make it go away.”

“Are you sure?” Albedo pressed on, still hoping that you might see the benefit in what he was suggesting. “It won’t start with something drastic I promise. And at the end of the day, I think that it will help a lot.”

“I understand that, I really do, but like I said my fear doesn’t work that way.” You paused, as if sensing the sinking of your partner’s heart, before smiling slightly. “If it makes you feel any better I promise to give it some more thought. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Albedo replied, though in his mind he knew that you thinking about it probably wouldn’t change anything.

Thus the cycle continued, with Albedo growing more and more uneasy. He didn’t bring it up with you again, sensing it would be walking over some invisible line, but still his mind whirled in trying to understand what you meant. If your fear wasn’t simply irrational, then surely something must have happened once. Though the alchemist didn’t pry, surely if you wanted him to know you would tell him in your own time, he had to admit that sometimes his brain went off on various daydreams, as if trying to decide for itself what might have happened.

As it turned out, Albedo didn’t have to speculate for long. Nor did the truth come out the way that he had expected.

You two were on the very small dock at Cider Lake, checking the rafts were tied down properly before the beginning of the stormy season that wreaked havoc through Mondstadt once every year. Though normally you probably would have never done such a thing the Guild was spread thin, preparing for storms, though not nearly as fierce as Dvalin’s winds, that would blow shingles off roofs and destabilize the occasional out of place rock on the wall. As of such the task of shielding the boats used to carry supplies from the City to the larger Mondstadt region had fallen to you. Albedo had tagged along, knowing how uncomfortable the experience might make you feel, and unwilling to leave you alone in a state of anxiety.

“These remaining boats are the ones we need to tie down. They’re too big to be stored in the sheds inside the City.”

“I see,” Albedo replied, already moving to nail the tarp down on one of them as you secured the roping. Already the air seemed alive with the fresh smell of impending rain.

“It’s too bad really, we can’t guarantee these boats’ safety the way we can the others. Thankfully these ones are mostly insured by the Knights. Though really maybe we should build a larger shed,” you mused to yourself, keeping up the tell-tale stream of conversation that Albedo knew you used to distract yourself.

“Perhaps you can make a query via the Guild?”

“Perhaps,” you mused. “Or I might be able to ask Amber.”

Albedo replied that would be a good idea, turning to put another temporary nail onto the top of the longboat. All seemed alright for a moment, then there was a shriek and a terrific splashing sound. Whirling around Albedo had just enough time to find your head in the water before you seemed to seize up and your head dipped below the still crystal-clear waves.

Immediately Albedo stripped himself of his coat and dove in. Though no amazing swimmer himself the alchemist was hardly the worst at staying afloat, and even if he only knew a select few amount of swim strokes that paled in comparison to the idea of you drowning. Making his way over to you he fought the panic rising up inside of him, the part of his brain that said it would be much more difficult to rescue someone terrified of water.

However almost as soon as Albedo approached you he noticed that something was distinctly off. Firstly you didn’t seem like you were drowning, in fact you appeared quite graceful in the water, swishing softly back and forth. Secondly the reason for said grace quickly became apparent to Albedo. For in the spot where your legs should have been, indeed in the spot where your legs had been mere moment ago was something long and slightly shimmery and distinctly fish-like.

Letting his mouth fall open Albedo immediately hoisted himself up above the water, choking on the gasp of breath he had found himself taking. What was that, what in all of Teyvat was that? You were half fish. How were you half fish? Did such a thing even exist, for Albedo had certainly never heard of it! Though the alchemist later admitted that in the moment such fantasy creatures as merfolk had completely fallen out of his head, there was something distinctly different than reading about something in a book and seeing it in real life.

Dragging himself onto the shores of Cider Lake, Albedo waited for you to emerge, still breathing heavily from what had just passed. His brain seemed to shut off them, for he found himself with no questions to ask. You were a mermaid, you were simply a mermaid. There was nothing more to do or say about it.

Eventually you joined him on the beach. Albedo watched in an odd sort of fascination as your legs emerged from the scaley fin which your lower body was now made up of. For a moment individual spots of iridescent seemed to remain, but soon your limbs were back to normal, ignoring the fact that you were soaking wet.

“So now you know why I said exposure therapy wouldn’t work out,” you said, letting a grim sort of laugh escape your lips.

“You… you are a… a…”

“A merfolk, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “Not sure why I get stuck with the weird power that is more annoying than good but, you know, oops?”

Albedo could sense your vulnerability, but try as he might he couldn’t get the words to come out of his throat. For a moment he sat there, gasping like a fish, but finally the expression of muted misery on your face wormed its way into his brain and finally Albedo felt as if he had regained some ability to talk.

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, really. And not just because this is something I’ve never experienced or seen before. Though it was really surprising, it was also wonderful. As an alchemist you study all the wonders and anomalies of nature, and in doing so you see all these differences aren’t just something to be written down, but they also beautiful. And so I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you replied, though you still seemed uncomfortable. “I just, yeah…”

Reaching over to find your hand in his Albedo squeezed your palm softly. For a moment you did nothing, then, slowly, you leaned your head on Albedo’s shoulder. Letting you stay there Albedo found himself wishing that he could convey all the emotions he felt in that moment to you.

“I know that it can be difficult to talk about things that you’ve kept secret, especially when you feel like they make you stand out in a bad way. But I promise, there is nothing wrong with that. And I hope if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way that I can apologize.”

“Thanks Albedo,” you murmured. “You don’t have to say sorry, but thanks anyways.”

“Always.”

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too.”

Albedo planted a soft kiss on your forehead. As the boats sat, woefully forgotten, the two of you basked in each other’s presence. For Albedo a mystery had been solved, and explanation given that, while not necessarily scientific, was certainly satisfactory. Yet at that moment he couldn’t care less about it. All he could think about was how lonely it must have been, and how, if he could help it, you would never feel isolated in your discomfort or in your secret ever again.

#genshin impact fanfiction #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin impact #requested #oneshot #my writing

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garblegox · 3 years ago

Text

• Humpty Dumpty Elegy 8 | five books on 🦊POWER🦔 •

When I was an eleven year old boy, a very wise squirrel said something I never forgot:

Insecurity is the one thing that never goes out of style. And I am proudly outdated

He's a good lord and master, that Foamy the Squirrel. Taught me an embarrassingly large number of good ideas. Embarrassing, mostly because it exposes my obvious fatherlessness.

But hey, I'm a man of many dads. I got OG Gaydad (plus a step-Gaydadmother + their fuccboi), Realdad the Deaddad, Stepdad the Notyetdeaddad, Trinidad Deaddad, Partially-lobotomized Mohawkdad, new Trinidad dad (alive), plus Doug Stanhope, Aesop Rock, and everyone's LORD AND MASTER Foamy (My mom hasn't banged the last three, yet). A real Papa Johns Buffet.

My mom's got a nice book for you, it's called, "The Ethical Slut" by Dossie Easton. Sounds cool. Wasn't cool hearing her and my Grandma discuss it at the dinner table. Yuck.

So what are we in for today? What's the topic du mois?

POWER

I knew this was coming, and even though Humpty's not actually reading any of this, I wanted to make sure I put books on being a solid person, before I recommend books on being a powerful one.

Readers definitely care more about power and influence, than ethics and morality, or god forbid, narcissism. Which I completely understand; who the fuck am I, anyway? But I'm playing with fire here, giving a wannabe serial/spree killer/rapist books on power.

But now, with all the medicinal shit out of the way, time for the delicious stuff. Topics that are way more fun, like psychedelics, stupidity, "monkey brains", the soul, etc. Should be mostly free of moralizing from now on.

Fuck it, say the rock can't hide you, the river's bleedin', and the sea's boilin'. Sinnerman, you're going to need power. Pa-ha-ha-hawah!

• #1 The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell •

Lets start off small. I say Humpty's something, if only an empty shell with room to fill. Humpty says he's nothing... period.

Pick something you find insignificant, and he'll diminish himself beyond that. A mote of dust? Too big. An atom? My, that's generous. Sub-atomic particle? Close, but still too energetic to be his match.

The self-hate is so cartoonish you have to wonder if he's just putting on a show. Even Wednesday, with his actual life of pain, at least sees the fact that he survived it all as some measure of greatness. But Humpty? Well we all know how he works at this point. It's a short script.

So lets humor him. He's itty fuckin bitty. Who cares? Who isn't? We're all ants, hoping a good hill will emerge from us. Thing is, hills don't emerge from one ant; ants are pretty pathetic specimens all alone. But as a group, they can eat an elephant, brain first, and elephants know it.

This book is like Atomic Habits, for hills and hives. No person of influence or significance ever made it to our awareness alone. They came crowdsurfing in on a swarm of apes, tossed about like a beloved beachball.

It's easy to get misled into thinking there's only one correct role to play in society, and that you just ain't it. Maybe you find that the most legendary people are the ones who can convince people of anything, or have a vast library of info in their head, or an expansive network of powerful acquaintances. Maybe you're daunted by the idea that you have to be all three at once to accomplish your dreams.

Pick the one that comes to you most naturally, nurture that side, then search for the other two, and befriend them. Geniuses occupy multiple categories. But hey, fuck being a genius, don't be a narcissist, move on. We is what we is. Intelligence has diminishing returns, and the vast majority of an individual's intelligence is stored in their peers, not their brains.

Malcolm calls these three "Salesmen, Mavens, and Connectors"

I used to get down on myself, for spending so much of my free time alone, hammering useless factoids into my head. It seems I prefer reading about humans over interacting with them. Meanwhile people like Wednesday and my brother hunger for new connections 10x harder than I do. I just siphon friends from them.

However, as much as I envy their drive to connect, they envy my ability to be comfortable alone, and the knowledge I've independently accumulated over the years. They've both referred to me as a major resource for information, that's given them an edge in their own life.

After reading this book, I finally recognized that I'm fine as-is, and so are they. In fact I've always had a pretty good thing going, despite my reclusiveness. I'm a maven, they're connectors. The only thing we're missing, is a salesman and a mission. Then we can finally start that cult we've been dreaming about. wat?

Now, Malcolm focusses on how these three combine to make HUGE things happen, and gives the slight impression that they're rare people. But that's not true. The scale doesn't matter, whether you're looking to put together the next Amazon, or just make a fond name for yourself in a little pissbunk town of eighty people. Humans all generally fall into these categories. If you're wondering what your calling is, it's good to start by asking yourself whether you're a connector, a maven, or a salesperson.

Greatness is not a highway with just one fast lane. It's a heavy ass carriage that needs three horses at a time. Figure out what kind you are, find the papers and scissors to your rock, harness up, and get pulling.

[p.s. Malcolm infamously promotes the "broken windows policy" in this, which has been debunked. Big cringe. But it plays a very small role in making his overall point. Don't let it distract you too much.]

• #2 The Square And The Tower by Niall Fergusson •

What does power mean to you? When do you feel that taint-tingling, goose-bumping, buckle-swashing feeling that you are in the presence of something truly powerful?

Me, I'm less spooked by kings and their coterie. Likely a form of stupidity on my part. But I always see hierarchs as the middle of the hierarchy. Because above, below, behind, and beyeet them, lie networks and conspiracies. It's networks that chill my bones. Like the neat little gang of psychics I spotted in New Orleans.

I've seen the power of them my whole life. My mother is a member of the largest conspiracy in the Great Lakes/New England region: Barbershop singers. She's got connections from Salem to Sault St. Marie. She even sang with one of my principals as a Sweet Adeline which got me way more mercy than my misbehaving ass ever deserved. One of her other friends even got me a job working at Camp Rock (aka Camp Kilcoo) for a summer, living in a cabin next to a lake, making bacon and eggs for some delightful little punkass kids. That place taught me to shake hands like a man.

I exaggerate, but really, a mere barbershop network is like hammerspace for human potential. Reach in, pull something out for free. Even weirder, my mom's known by hundreds of people by a single letter. I can say "You know X?" And people go "Oooooh! So YOU are X's son!!"

If you want to keep an eye on power, you have to know what you're looking at. Now, it's a mistake to put hierarchies and networks on a continuum of opposites. Power can coagulate, or it can dissolve. Any Satanists out there?

Networks can act as hierarchies, and hierarchies can network. The best analogy is in the name: Hierarchies are vertical like towers, networks are horizontal like the market square beneath them. Some shit is a bit diagonal.

Historians are absolutely terrible at piecing together networks throughout history, because they leave measly paper trails. Either they're non-existent, or so vast and full of noisy data as to be encrypted to history.

Niall first does a great job of drawing clear lines between how hierarchies and networks operate. Then for the rest of the book, he gives a variety of examples of both, throughout history.

I didn't realize till I reread these books, but this one pairs perfectly with The Tipping Point. Niall discusses network nodes, and the importance of a node's "centrality". It all becomes extremely familiar when he gets into the three different kinds of centrality:

"Degree centrality" = The number of edges radiating out of a node. Like how many doors a room has. A room with many doors has high degree centrality. With humans, it's a measure of sociability. Or as Gladwell might put it, the node is a "connector"

"Betweenness centrality" = The extent to which info and influence passes through a node. It could be a room with few doors, but those few doors are where huge amounts of traffic and data flows through. Not a high quantity of doors, but a high quality. These are the "maven" nodes.

"Closeness centrality" = The number of steps it takes for one node to reach another. The Kevin-Baconiness of a node. The fewer the average steps from one node to all others in the network, the higher the closeness centrality.

For anyone who has read You Are Not So Smart and were left wanting to learn more about Dunbar's Number, these first two books both cover the concept pretty well.

I could go on, this is a very dense book, packed with cool information. How do poor people and rich people network? What are the "7 great insights of network theory"? What makes weak ties so strong? How come the rich get richer? Davos Man? Illuminati? Technology? Jungle warfare? Would the world be better without hierarchy? When is it time to be a non-conformist, or to integrate?

I'm afraid you'll just have to read this big thicc bitch to find out.

• #3 On Grand Strategy by John Lewis Gaddis •

You used to have to join an Ivy League school to get what this book offers. How fancy.

If there's one thing I absolutely love, it's a book on harmony. Taking two powerful and compelling opposites, finding the hip that joins them, and exemplifying those who can harmonize both sides into one effective point of view.

What are you, a fox, or a hedgehog? A map, or a compass?

As the analogy goes, the fox searches for food everywhere, and everywhere finds a new challenge to overcome. Life is uncertain. The fox is willy, creative, and dynamic. Whereas the hedgehog sits in one bush, and waits for his food to skitter and wriggle right up to him. Threaten him, he just balls up and waits. The hedgehog lives a simple life of certainty and stasis.

It's maybe unsurprising that Sonic is the de facto mascot for autism. Even though he's super fast, he moves in straight lines, and instead of staying still, he absolutely never wants to stop. A real linear fella, with a roguish fox-like veneer.

Many people make the mistake of trying to adopt just one form. But you need both. The other great analogy Gaddis uses is the topographical map vs the compass. One needs both to properly navigate. The compass points you north with certainty and straightforwardness, but it won't warn you of the swamps and cliffs, like a good map will.

With the basic dynamic laid out, Gaddis then loads you up with some choice examples throughout history, of foxes and their hedgehog foils, as well as people who embodied both styles with great harmony and success.

There are some fascinating pairs to think about. Machiavelli and St Augustine, Queen Elizabeth and King Philip II, Tolstoy and Clausewitz, Lincoln and Douglas, Jackson and Hamilton, etc. the respective foxes and hedgehogs of their times.

"Grand Strategy", according to John, involves combining one's inner fox and hedgehog, adapting to incompatibilities, keeping your self rooted with your head out of the clouds where platitudes swarm, and making decisions that can overcome the constant changes in time, space, and scale.

• #4 The 48 Laws Of Power by Robert Greene •

This is the book that started the Humpty Dumpty Elegy, officially. Scoffing at You Are Not So Smart was Hump's biggest single insult. But this got me in motion. I never planned on sharing this one with anybody. It even says to keep plenty of your best knowledge secret. But power crystalized into a topic, and without this, there were only four out of five books. Well sheeit.

Looking at the reviews, just the existence of a book like this upsets people. In fact, I was guilty of a similar attitude. I only read it after letting it sit in my library for more than a year. I figured only creepy douchebags and prisoners would read something like this.

But thanks to Chrissy Chaos blabbin' about it everywhere he went, I decided to give it a shake. And I'm so glad I did.

Now I'm upset at whatever put that bullshit in my head. Anybody who tells you not to empower yourself is your enemy. There's nothing to gain from being weak. Nothing for you, that is.

And if you think tough men are dangerous, wait until you see what weak men eggs are capable of -- Jordan Peterson, 12 Rules For Life

I should have known better. Repressing your shadow is one of the most effective ways of turning yourself into a neurotic psycho. You oughta be out there, vice signaling.

There were a number of rules that pointed the finger at Humpty, saying, "get this bastard out of your life!" But the one that obviously sealed the deal was,

Law 10: Infection, avoid the unhappy and unlucky.

Now, "unhappy and unlucky" describes Wednesday to a T. So I cracked a joke at him saying, "Sorry dude, my book says ya gotta go. Time to giddy the fuck up on out ma life, beitch!" We laughed, but I worried he might actually be thinking that the creepy power book I'm reading is saying mean things about him behind his back.

So I thought about it, and wondered what I might say to make it clear that Mr. Greene wasn't referring to my powerful and inspiring friend Wednesday. In case Wednesday happened to catch real feelings about it.

"He wasn't talking about you, he was talking about Humpty Dumpty."

🤯⚡💡

When I said that in my head, a lightning bolt fired off in there, all these neurons waiting to connect finally did, and Humpty's scheme unraveled in my mind from beginning to end.

Now, I'd like to reiterate, I never advocated for kicking Humpty Dumpty out of our little group. I merely told them that I was 100% done with his crybaby bullshit, and that I was planning on doing things differently for my own peace of mind. But The Twelve Days Of Christmas began, without me needing a single power law to guide it. I just wanted to bore him, and ignore him.

But aaah well fuck him, he's not reading this. All this guilty conscience shit has got to be getting boring.

When the book wasn't describing Dump as cancer, it actually described him as a dude with remarkable control over his life already. It's just that he laments everything that makes him powerful:

His intentions are obscure; He always says less than necessary; He's got a great reputation, outside of the Discord; He effortlessly courts attention towards his fake pitifulness; He gets others to do work for him; He's can be disarmingly honest and generous; He knows to appeal to people's self-interest or self-image; He's never committed to anyone; He played a sucker to catch a sucker (Wednesday and I); He's the living embodiment of the "surrender tactic"; He played on our need to believe; He can control your options, dealing only the cards he wants you to play with; All grapes are sour grapes to him; He IS a compelling spectacle; And though he behaves like others, he thinks like nobody else.

The fun part of reading this book is finding what things you actually do quite well. We learn plenty of these laws naturally, as kids, and it's validating hearing them in a book like this. Humpty's not helpless, no matter how much he insists. After reading this, I just can't buy it from him.

It's not just validating, but overall refreshing and unique. Robert wrote this out of frustration, as he apparently writes all of his books. He found nobody was writing anything practical or honest about power. Everything else avoided delving into the human shadow, or just telling it like it is when it comes to the ego.

"Amoral" is a fair word for this book. It is not gonna help you find eudaimonia, or fulfillment. It has no advice on what to do with all your newfangled power. So keep that in mind. Try my other recommendations.

But are you an anxious person? Why? You don't just have anxiety. You are anxious, about something. It's not a cold, nobody just sneezed it into you. Everyone's anxiety is their own complex tangle of knots for themself to unravel. So what's got you anxious?

I'd be willing to bet one major thread in that ball of knots is a feeling of powerlessness. From times you held power, and knowingly let it go. To times where you didn't know you had it till it was gone. Maybe you're another person who feels guilty about your own will to power, so you concealed it, from everyone first, then yourself. Maybe you had power before you knew it could corrupt, and you misused it, and don't think it belongs to you anymore. Don't let "power" be something ineffable to you like the idea of "cool" or "success"; It's a thing with definite properties.

This book is considered an absolute lifesaver for people in exploitative, political environments. Known as "the most popular book in prison", it's best usage is in the hands of those subjected to power, not the ones wielding it over others. 99% of people using this book are doing so defensively, not offensively.

If there's one great way to describe Humpty Dumpty, it's as a former prisoner. He's got all the markers of an animal, broken by an institution. Like Camus says, if prison changes you, it doesn't change you into a philosopher, but a dimwit or a monster.

My #1 goal with this series is to empower people (at the expense of one douchebag). I feel like I've always had a headstart on that in life, thanks to my parents and their unique attitudes. I think the most destructive people I've ever known were exemplars of weakness, not strength.

These are not absolute laws. There's no sane reason to worry about following all 48 laws at once, 24/7. Unless you can stomach the solitude of a pimp, which nobody really can, not even pimps. My workplace, for example, is very low on exploitation and politics, so I save a lot of energy and don't worry much about these laws each day. But if you have a goal, there are 48 definite things you can do to ensure you reach it.

And remember, there ain't no rest for the wicked. If you're looking to make a better world to live in, you gotta beat the bad guys to it.

• #5 The Dichotomy Of Leadership by Jocko Willink and Leif Babin •

Look at you, you powerful motherfucker. You did it. You're the boss now!

Alright now WAIT HURRY DON'T FUCK IT UP AAAH OH MY GOD WHHYYY!🔥⚠🦴🌊⚡💥☠

Ooooh way to go, you dick, everything's broken, people died, tisk tisk

Power and leadership ain't something to fuck around with. Nobody knows that better than our two Navy SEAL friends, Jocko and Leif.

I said I love books on harmony. This here is one of the best. Especially since these authors epitomize the idea of "skin in the game".

Not only did they successfully learn and apply these principles in war, they proved through their consulting company, Echelon Front, that they're applicable broadly, in all realms of leadership.

Jocko & Leif's first book, Extreme Ownership (or as my brother calls it Insane Responsibility) was a smash hit, and changed a lot of minds for the better. But that name, "extreme", broke many people's brains. So they followed it up with a book on balance: The Dichotomy Of Leadership.

Their goal was to empower through humility. But some bosses thought it all meant "micromanage with rabid zeal." And by doing so, they negated the ownership of everyone beneath them. People weren't allowed to make choices, so extreme ownership up and down the pecking order couldn't be achieved. Nobody was getting paid to think, and things would begin to get rigid, fragile, and collapse.

It was clear, that with responsibility out of the way, the next most important key to leadership is finding the healthy medians among the "countless dichotomies of leadership".

The ultimate dichotomy, to them, comes when a leader has to put their people's lives/livelihoods at risk, for the sake of the mission. But that's just the hardest one to stomach. Beyond that, they cover eleven more powerful dichotomies a leader must always keep in mind.

How do you own it all, while empowering others?

When does resolute become overbearing?

When do you mentor, and when do you fire?

Where's the line between training hard, and training smart?

How do you stay aggressive without being reckless?

How do you stay disciplined without being rigid?

How do you hold people accountable without holding their hands?

When should the leader follow?

You must plan, but when does it become overplanning?

Can you be humble without being passive?

How do you stay focused, but detached?

That's a whole bunch of shit, isn't it? Each one makes the hair holding Damocles' sword seem just that much thinner, and the sword that much sharper.

It's a whole lot more than just foxes & hedgehogs, maps & compasses, Hellenists & Hebraists, Squares & Towers, etc. All those seem adorably theoretical compared to everything in this book. This is Tolstoy, Clausewitz, AND Bonaparte, all in one. Plus enthralling stories of urban combat from the people stirring it up.

This book isn't just written for the bosses and supervisors of the world. Since only a tiny fraction of any group is in charge, and it probably won't be you. Their whole philosophy is about decentralized command, and instilling leadership qualities into every unit down the chain.

For me, since I haven't been in a leadership position since reading this, I have just been using it to size up bosses, and do my best to make myself immune from their misbehavior. I get my work done admirably, no complaints, no excuses, nobody ever cracks a whip at me; Nobody's gonna steal my table of knickknacks.

Growing up, I used to worry I'd be like my father, chronically quarrelling with my bosses. But with Jocko and Leif's gravelly voices in my head, I'm at the point in my life where I know my employers are lucky to have me, and I'm not afraid to remind them. Politely.

A huge factor in one's quality of life, is the quality of their workplace. These books can help you recognize, in a single week of work, whether you're in a place worth working in at all.

Judge your leaders on all this stuff. Do they take ownership of the mission, or blame others? Do they balance these dichotomies well? Do they waste precious leadership capitol by pulling rank? Are they afraid to fire carcinogenic coworkers? Do they prefer wishcasting over forecasting? Are they good teachers?

If they don't hold up, don't try to fix them, QUIT. High staff turnover is often the only leverage against a bad boss. I say the same thing every time a coworker tells me they handed in their two weeks:

"Congratulations!"

But if the mission matters to you, and quitting isn't an option, this book equips you with the knowhow to make the best of bad leadership. Ride out that high-turnover rate with grace, while your naughty boss capsizes. Or better yet, maybe it's time to start your own mission?

• End Bit •

Well, that was a pretty intense month of reading. I originally didn't read these books consecutively; these are some of my oldest and newest ones. But this month, I lined up the five most powerful ones I had, and snorted them right up my ass. It's been quite a rush.

In retrospect, I could have just as easily made the topic this month "harmony" because they all focus just as much on that. Which says a lot to me about the nature of power.

Even 48 Laws Of Power provides reversals to every rule, except for a critical handful which have no reversal (like there's NO benefit to ignorance of other people, PERIOD). With all the caveats and reversals, it's closer to 100 laws for you to ponder.

Ask yourself, who in your life would prefer that you didn't have power? I mean people that wince and cringe every time they spot you displaying strength. To some of you, that may sound paranoid and absurd. But I know people with peers that drag them down like crabs in a bucket; tall-poppy-types. Mostly women, if I'm being honest. One of the downsides of empathy and agreeability is how hard it makes getting rid of toxic "infectious" friends. Particularly ones who so casually throw around threats of self-harm.

If you keep an eye open though, you'll see there are a lot of people out there who don't want anyone to find strength or confidence. Their rationales vary from disgusting to pathetic, but the point is, some people are to strength as puritans are to joy. They find agency, efficacy, and potency to be egregious and profane. I fucking hate these people.

Their favorite targets are kids. There's something sacred to them about the insecurity we develop in puberty. They see the natural heroism and genius of children as evil, and seek to rid them of as much of it as possible.

When I was a kid, my favorite movie was Matilda. This scene set my whole brain on fire:

youtube

Uh oh! Here come the tears of anger!

I've met maybe a hundred adults like DeVito's character, in my life. I've always wondered if some people watch that scene, and envy the power Mr. Wormwood has, like "Aaah, yes, one day I'll have the privilege of belittling kids when they show good character. Mmmmmm."

Meanwhile, I still want to snap his finger off and do horrible things to him with it. I think part of me lives to spot people like Mr. Wormwood and Ms. Trunchbull, and try to make them feel small when they do this to others.

That voice does not belong in your head. You are not dumb, you are not little, you are not wrong. You can do incredible things with that human mind of yours, including imprisoning it within itself.

Maybe it's hack to reference the Allegory Of The Cave, but these are my top five cave-escapers. I saw Humpty as a man who needed help to escape the black hole of lies he grew up in, like I did. He played on some megalomaniacal Prometheus complex I didn't totally realize I had till I dealt with him.

There's a whole world out there of sweetness and light, begging for your enthusiasm, and I know a lot of people are missing it. It's easier to put the thought of it out of my mind, to get through the day. But when I stop and truly think about it, it breaks my heart and fills me with rage.

Come on out of that Chokey.

Unlearn helplessness!

See you next month! Five more books! What'll they be about?! When does it end?! I miss reading new things!

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kiingocreative · 4 years ago

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The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

There are some buzz words everywhere and, in the writing world, and it feels to me like ‘journaling’ is one of them. It’s something everyone seems to be doing.

It took me a while to build a journaling habit, and I wouldn’t say I’m quite there yet with my Journaling discipline, but whatever experience I’ve had with it has been incredibly beneficial.

What’s Journaling?

Back to the old trusted dictionary! Journaling is defined as:

To write in a journal or diary.

Simple, right?

For those of you with a penchant for etymology and random fun facts, the word ‘journal’ comes from the Latin ‘diurnalis’, or ‘diurnus’, meaning ‘daily’. In late Middle English, a journal originally referred to a book containing the appointed times of daily prayers. (If you use this as an ice-breaker at your next dinner party, please let me know!)

Nowadays, journaling is a lot more about keeping track of one’s praying schedule, and much more about recording one’s thoughts in an informal, free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness manner.

It’ll take different forms for different people, and the great thing about it is that (in my view) there isn’t a right or wrong way to journal. The only right way to do it is the way that feels right to you. As with any form of writing, craft or art in general, it’s all about individual preference, and highly subjective. And because Journaling is generally something that remains personal and private, you can do whatever the heck you want with it.

Pretty great, isn’t it?

Why Journaling is Good For You.

Based on my own experience, I’ve found a few benefits to journaling:

Pressure-free writing.

I’ve found that Journaling, because it follows no set rule and isn’t meant to be shared, is a great chance to write without any pressure. To write just because you want to write, with no other agenda than indulging in your love of putting words together on a page.

To me, writing without an outcome in mind is always liberating. It’s a chance to reconnect with your craft in way you might not if there was a clear purpose to it, like writing a book due to be published or a blog article meant to be posted online.

Experiment with your writing.

Journaling is also the perfect format to experiment with your writing, and try your hand at something new. Maybe you normally write fiction, and Journaling is a chance to give poetry a go. Maybe you generally blog, and your journal can start hosting plots and ideas for a novel, regardless of what you make of it later. Maybe you’ll want to try writing exercises—like jotting down ideas from a prompt or in a specific style. Or you could start recording dreams and memories you can remember.

Discomfort is where we grow, so putting yourself in those situations regularly is a great opportunity to expand your writing abilities and hone your skills. Who knows, there may be writing gold in there somewhere!

Never forget an idea.

I don’t know about you, but I often get ideas for my writing and beyond at the most inconvenient moments—in the shower, whilst cooking, doing the dishes, or picking up dog poop (I know, oh the glamour of a writer’s life!). I always think that I’ll remember these, but the truth is, most of them get forgotten, never to be retrieved again from the confines of my mind.

Journaling is a great way never to lose sight of an idea. My Journaling involves a lot of notes about random ideas I have for a plot, a story, a post, or life activities in general. They serve as inspiration for the future. Writing them down helps me rest assured that I can go back to that list and explore it later, whenever convenient.

Free your mind &notice trends.

One of the most important things I’ve notice happen when I journal, is that it helps me empty my mind fro ma lot of the never-ending thinking loops I tend to fall victim to. By putting thoughts down on paper, I’m able to see them more clearly, and my brain finally feels like it no longer needs to hold onto them. Jotting things down is a great way to break your pattern of thinking (or, if you’re like me, obsessing) and to allow yourself time to take a step back and look at the big picture.

Whether it’s something you’re stuck on in your writing, or in your life in general, journaling on it is powerful, especially if you do it regularly. Not only will you create more space in your mind for better and brighter things—say, your next brilliant writing idea!—but it’ll also give you a chance to notice trends and recurring themes. And that’s a great way to build awareness about your own patterns of behaviour, and start eradicating your most negative or toxic thinking habits.

Keep a record.

Performance coach Tony Robbins (yes, him again! What can I say, I’m a huge fan) says that ‘if your life is worth living it’s worth recording’. I couldn’t agree more. Journaling gives you a chance to be your own life historian. To keep track of where you’ve been and how far you’ve gone. To look back on those day-to-day accomplishments that may look minute at the time but all add up to something big and wonderful in the end.

Looking at your own existence and experience as something that’s worth keeping a record of also sends your subconscious mind a clear message: that’s you’re worthy. You’re enough. Every moment of your life has an impact, the good and the bad, and helps mould who you become.

I’d say there are few more powerful truths to embrace in your lifetime!

Getting Started with Journaling.

That’s all well and good, you might say, but where do I start?

Fear not, my friend, here are some suggestions to get you started.

1. Set a schedule — If you don’t make time for it, chances are it won’t happen, because life has a habit of getting in the way. Identify a time that works best for you—whether that’s morning, midday, evening etc.—and schedule it in your calendar, setting a reminder so you don’t forget about it. If finding time daily feels daunting or unrealistic, why not start with once a week, or a couple of times a week?

2. Make it a habit — Stick to it! Whether it comes naturally or not, be disciplined about it. Embrace whatever comes, both the joys and the discomfort of it. Set yourself a goal—every day for a week, every other day for a month etc.—and sit with it for the entire duration you committed to.

3. Set a timer — Journaling doesn’t have to take a lot of time. I tend to journal for about ten minutes at a time on average, sometimes less and sometimes more. If you’re unsure what duration to start with, set a timer for ten minutes and see what comes up.

4. Let it flow — As I mentioned above, Journaling may or may not feel natural at first. It may feel great or it may feel uncomfortable. Whatever comes up for you, let it flow. Why not journal about the sensations and feelings the experience of journaling brings up? It may end up being one thing one day and something altogether different the next. Whatever it is for you at any given time is what’s right. Be open-minded, remember this is unique and personal, and no one—not even you—should ever judge it.

The Power of Rituals.

If you’re still unsure about the value of journaling, or about getting started with it, let me say this one final thing: the most important piece of the puzzle, as with anything else you do, is defining your ‘why’—i.e. the reasons behind your decision to start (or continue) journaling. Ask yourself:

Why do you want to start journaling?

Why is it important to you?

How do you think it’ll make you feel? How do you want it to make you feel?

What difference do you think it’ll make to you, to your life, to your writing?

Clearly defining your ‘why’ and your intentions will help you maintain the habit. More importantly, understanding the value this holds to you will take journaling from a mere habit—which can feel like a chore—to a ritual of self-care. That’s the difference between doing it because you think it’s cool, or because everyone is doing it, or because you think you should do it, and doing it because you know for a fact, in your core, that this will make you and your writing better and stronger.

This will go a long way in making it more enjoyable. It’ll help you build rituals around it that are nurturing and caring. Get yourself to acknowledge why it’s good for you and why it’s pleasurable, and then set up the environment to make your journaling time feel like an absolute treat. Maybe that’s setting the scene in the room where you journal with a candle or some background music. Maybe that’s selecting a nice notebook if you’re doing this by hand, or picking your favourite writing spot, at home or beyond.

Eventually, these will all act as triggers to get you into the right journaling mindset whenever you’re sitting down for it.

And if you’re not quite sure what that all looks like for you… Well. Isn’t that a great topic to start journaling about?

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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amitypatna · 10 months ago

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Best Colleges For BCom In Bihar: Curriculum, Focus, & More!

Difference Between A BCom & BCom Hons

While there are not a lot of differences in both of these degrees, the difference primarily lies in the curriculum and core focuses:

BCom (Bachelor of Commerce)

A BCom degree usually focuses on basic concepts of commerce and covers subjects like accounting, economics, business law, taxation, etc

BCom Hons (Bachelor of Commerce Honors)

Focus of this program is designed for the students who have a clear focus on a specific area in commerce. It is more rigorous and often has a research component or project.

Choosing The Right College

Let’s see the reasons that distinguishes Amity:

Well-Read Faculty

Modern Infrastructure

Focus on Curriculum

Conclusion

Source: https://sites.google.com/view/best-colleges-for-bcom-bihar-/home?authuser=2

#Best Colleges for Bcom in Bihar #best colleges for bcom hons in Patna #Best Bcom Colleges in India

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anyoneseenadam · 4 years ago

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Home: Chapter Seven

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing,

word count: 3.9k

a/n: I’m entirely writing this to distract myself from the real world but honesty I’m having a great time, I think there will be one more chapter after this one and maybe an epilogue but asides from that, also feel free to message or ask if you want to be tagged :)) anyway enjoy and pls comment and shiz :)

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Azriel had once joked that you were like an actual flower, needing water and sunlight to use your powers. At the time you had laughed but now as you stood in front of the mirror, wiping the tears from under your eyes, and preparing to walk into the world of all things dead, you understood. The dress you wore was one of the few fancy ones you reserved for the dinners you were often dragged to before your fall. It was lavender, with tulle cascading down your legs from the waist, paired with a tight corset top and tulle off-the-shoulder sleeves. As you sat with a ‘humph’ and started applying your makeup, your stepbrother walked in.

“Well you look cheery,” Nico said, sitting on your bed.

“I look like an evil power puff girl,”

“You look like you are a princess, which you are so my dad is going to be pleased.”

“I really don’t care what he thinks,” you snapped, and Nico help up his hands. He was wearing all black as usual, simple dress pants and a loose black shirt tucked in, his belt matched his rings, and his dark hair and even darker eye bags made him look every bit the Underworld prince. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you,” you said turning back around to carry on with your makeup.

“I know, it’s stressful for you,” he moved to sit next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and you applied eyeliner.

“I don’t wanna get sick again, I have things to do. Plus I’ve got to convince your dad to let me ask for this favour. I just feel like it’s all going to go to shit.”

“I get it, you’ll be fine though. Also I’m pretty sure your mum is going to do anything for you if it means you’ll speak to her again, so she’ll be on your side at least. That’s three vs one.” He nudged you as you put down the eyeliner.

“That’s true.” You bit the inside of your lip and Nico, sensing your worry, changed topic.

“Tell me about Azriel,” He said, and you caught his eye in the mirror.

“Huh?”

“Well I gotta make sure that when you become his problem it will be permanent, I don’t want you coming back,” he joked.

“Fuck you,” you laughed shoving his shoulder and he giggled, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t want to do thisssss,” Nico said in a sing-song voice lying flat on the floor.

“Me neither but I’m not going in alone bitch,” you laughed, starting to feel slightly better. It was moments like this that made you regret pushing your friends away, the thought of seeing them was always scary but when you were with your brother again you remembered why you loved them so much. You assessed your outfit in the mirror and sighed.

“What?” Nico asked, sitting back up.

“This would look really nice with a dark red lip,” you said, biting your lip.

“Do you have one?” he asked, and you nodded. He was quiet for a second before reaching out and ruffling through your makeup, finding your favourite red lipstick. “Do you wanna try?”

“Yeah, but if I cry it’ll mess up my eyeliner.” You said with a shaky laugh. He laughed quietly handing you the lipstick and you looked at him in the mirror, taking in a shuddering breath. You were stronger than this and you could handle it. You closed your eyes for a minute, counting your breaths, before opening the lipstick.

Once it was applied you lifted your chin, staring down the girl in the mirror. Nico grabbed your hand softly and you tore your eyes away, standing and pulling on your shoes.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Azriel was in a shit mood. He was 90% sure that you had cast some sort of spell on him when he was with you, something that made him happy and relaxed, because now that you weren’t here he pretty much wanted to throttle everyone.

Amren had been helping him look for a way to get back to you. The first thing they had tried was winnowing, he pictured your face; your smile, the way your hands felt in his, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t reach you. So they had been scanning books since then, reading up on every theory and myth. Nesta had brought him to speak to Gwyn who had told him about the theory that there could be up to at least 20 other worlds. Amren had also made him talk through every detail about this world he could remember, writing diligent notes as Cassian gave him weird looks when he spoke about Bucky Barnes.

“He’s a character, it’s a simple concept.”

“Yeah but how do you get an emotional connection to a character?”

“Shut up both of you.”

The pain in his chest was only growing as well, and he came to the daunting realisation that if he failed this; if he couldn’t get back to you, or get you back to him, he would probably have to deal with it for the rest of his long, long life.

He felt bad for taking his frustrations out on his family who were just worried about him, but he had never felt this way before. All he could think of was the way your eyes cleared when the realisation dawned on you. The way you had gone from sobs to a different, all-consuming kind of pain, just for a second, your eyes clearing as you realised you might never see him again. He hated himself for not being strong enough to put up a fight, he knew he wasn’t a match for a god, but he should’ve tried, he was too shocked at the time, too heartbroken, but now he was terrified that you might think he gave up on you. He had to get back to you, he was afraid what you might do if you were alone again. If you were alone after having the bond dangled in front of you, only to have it ripped away moments later.

It was almost 3am and everyone else in the house had gone to bed, but Azriel didn’t sleep well normally, and he especially wouldn’t while he was apart from you. He looked up from his book when he heard someone clear their throat, his head whipped up an incredulous smile gracing his features when he saw you sitting there.

“Baby,” he started moving forward but you held your hand up, stopping him.

“Oh that’s just too sweet, you kids are giving me so much content,” you dabbed at your eyes, and Azriel frowned.

“(y/n)? what’s going on?”

“Oh I’m not (y/n) sweetie, but that’s just adorable. My name is Aphrodite, Goddess of love and beauty, I often appear as whoever you find most beautiful.” Azriel’s heart dropped, the brief happiness he felt seeing your face gone as the lady spoke.

“Aphrodite? Hermes mentioned you.” He said, tensing as he realised he was dealing with another god. “In fact he said it was your fault this all happened.”

“Oh Hermes, always blaming someone else. You should be thanking me.”

“And why would I do that.” Azriel knew the look on his face was deadly, but something about seeing a god cower under his gaze was feeding his ego.

“Haven’t you worked out why you can’t travel back to her.” She raised her eyebrows at him, her expressions may be on your face, but as he paid more attention she seemed like a completely different person. “I have the power to move through world’s, you do not. I just thought that poor, sweet girl had been through enough that she should get to meet her soulmate. I waited for you after your mission and then just made you forget and let the two of you fall in love naturally, I mean I get teary eyed thinking about it, you’re just too cute!”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, “So why are you here? Are you going to bring her to me?”

“Hmm I could, but I’d get in so much trouble, plus she’s very smart and I want to see if her plan works. You people are so very entertaining.” Her face rippled for a second as she turned, and she briefly looked like Mor, then Elain, then back to you. “But you, poor boy,” He chose to ignore the condescending tone, “You were dealt a very bad hand love wise, so maybe if she doesn’t succeed I could pull a few strings, but I do have a holiday planned so it may be a few decades.”

Her laugh made him feel sick and he glared at her, “What did you say about her plan?”

“Oh yes! She’s going down to the underworld to try find a solution,” Aphrodite was moving around the room gracefully as Azriel sat back down, the weight of Aphrodite’s easy words hitting him. She picked up one of the books laying on the desk and made an unimpressed noise, throwing it back down carelessly.

“That’s where the dead go right?” he asked, silently praying he was wrong,

“Yup! Don’t worry though, her mother lives there too,” she said ‘mother’ with a slight snarl, but Azriel ignored her. “You know I get why she likes you, you’re very pretty aren’t you?” She walked over to him, swaying your hips and he had to remind himself it wasn’t you as she sat down in his lap, forcing his hands to stay clenched at his side. She ran your hand along his jaw, tilting her head with a smile as she stroked his face. Her thumb rested on his bottom lip as he glared at her with murderous rage, trying to reel it in as he remembered she was possibly the only one that could help him.

“Well I guess I better go,” She sighed dramatically then pressed a perfectly polished gold coin into his hand, “Flip this if you need me, emergencies and sex only.” She winked at him, before kissing his cheek and standing, waving seductively before vanishing. Azriel sat for a few minutes, reeling from the interaction he just had. Is this the world I’ve entered now? Gods who can do whatever they want? He wondered if that’s why you avoided talking about the Gods, if maybe growing up with this had made you bitter to them. He wanted to ask you and talk to you about it, or anything for that matter but instead he just pocketed the coin and stood, winnowing to his room, and collapsing on his bed.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful,” Your mother cried out as you and Nico arrived, you were leaning heavily on his arm, while surrounded by death, the coldness of a lifeless place seeped into your bones and weakened you, you had learnt as much the first time you visited. You gave your mother a tight-lipped smile and hugged her awkwardly.

“Oh I missed you so much dear,” she stroked your hair, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“You could’ve visited.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of your voice, after all you had gone through and she hadn’t visited once. A look of shock passed over her face but before she could reply Hades thundered in, his usual outfit, ‘the robes of death and despair’ as you fondly called them, were replaced by a dark suit, his hair slicked back from his face. He came to Persephone’s side and rested a hand around her waist pulling her in slightly, and despite yourself you felt a little jealous of their closeness as your mother looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Nico, my son, how are you?” Hades deep voice silenced the room, the very air seeming to stand still, and Nico flushed red as he was put on the spot. The four of you exchanged pleasantries as you made your way to the ridiculously long table, Hades sat at the head on one side, Persephone on the other, with Nico and you facing each other in the centre. The wood was dark, but the table was covered in all sorts of colourful food and you all helped yourselves while making small talk, only managing to hear your parents due to the eery silence of the room, dead guards not needing to make any noise.

After the first few courses and once you had consumed enough white wine to gain some courage you turned to face your mother.

“Mum, I think I need a favour if that’s okay?” you asked with great caution, extremely aware of the powerful forces surrounding you.

“Well that depends dear. What is it?”

“After the battle and the… fall, I never got my reward remember, I instead asked to be able to come get it when I needed it.”

“Yes of course, I thought that was very smart!” your mother spoke cheerfully but you could feel Hades’ gaze on your back, burning through your skin and bones to the very essence of your soul. “Let me guess, you need it now?”

“If that’s okay, some things have changed recently and I now know what I need,” you smiled at her, “I met a man, well actually he’s a faerie. Aphrodite wanted us to meet because we’re soulmates and after my fall she thought I deserved to see him, but since he’s from another world he had to go back, and we can’t be together.” You wiped away a few stray tears you forced out; this was your game. Your mother didn’t visit you often so she had never seen this side of you, the side that could manipulate even a god into giving you what you wanted. “So I thought, maybe for my reward I could become Fae and be permitted to live with Azriel in his world, and maybe come and visit my friends occasionally?”

“Oh that sounds lovely dear! That’s so alike me, I had to beg my mother and even then she didn’t let me stay here,” your mother rattled on and you smiled at her, but your shoulders were still tense as you knew you hadn’t won yet. You turned to where Hades sat, rubbing his temples.

“I get it. I do. But I really don’t think my brother would allow that, it’s too much.”

“Too much?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping.

“I understand you went through a lot,”

“Do you?” you couldn’t stop the biting words, “Because the last I checked you both sat and did nothing while I was tortured down there. You could’ve done something, but you didn’t, you made a choice not to, and now I ask for ONE thing, and it’s too much?” Hades’ glare was murderous, but you weren’t going to back down.

“I mean if you really think about it, I’ll be out of your hair if you agree. One less demi-god always seems to be a win for you guys.” Nico said your name in warning, but you slowly stood. “I am not asking for much, I am asking to be allowed to live a life with the man I love and after all I have been through, fighting YOUR battles, I think it’s the least I deserve.”

You held Hades’ gaze for a few more seconds until he spoke. “Are you sure your not a child of Nyx?” he asked, and you grinned, cocking your head to the side.

“Why would that be?”

“You have a pure evil streak in you girl and uncharted power. You better learn to control it, before someone catches on.”

“We won’t have a problem I’m presuming?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said gruffly, going back to his meal and you relaxed, moving to hug your mother goodbye, whispering thanks to her, before linking arms with Nico and leaving.

The next day you awoke to a golden invitation to Olympus, and you smiled, soon. You’d be with him soon.

Olympus looked much nicer since Annabeth had gotten involved. You may have been biased but it seemed to hold a sense of home it never had before, the clinical cleanliness now feeling purer and more loving. The throne room however had remained much the same.

You stood alone in the middle surrounded by the arc of thrones, but you refused to take your eyes of Zeus. You had received a wink from Apollo and a smile from Aphrodite as you walked in but beside that it had been eye contact for at least five minutes. You knew better to speak before you were spoken to but the way they surrounded you and stared down on you was bringing up bad memories and you were really fighting a panic attack.

Seemingly sensing this Apollo cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should start father?” While you were grateful a part of you hated how well the flirtatious god knew you, he was the first to tend to your wounds when you first escaped, healing them enough so you wouldn’t die from blood loss but not enough for anyone to suggest he was picking favourites. His warm hands had provided a sense of comfort you thought you had lost entirely.

Zeus nodded slowly, a letter appearing in his hand, “So these are your terms? Transformation into high Fae, permission to live in a new world with visits back to this one twice a year?” you presumed Hades, or your mother had written the letter, neither of them present currently. You nodded clearly, not entirely trusting your voice.

“I guess it’s only fair, but a full transformation will hurt,”

“I’m sure I can take it.” you lifted your chin, holding your shaking hands tightly in an attempt to conceal them.

Zeus laughed, not taking his eyes of you, “I’m sure you can. Does anyone have any major oppositions?”

Aphrodite raised her hand, “I’d like to add that during her transformation, her womb changes shape so she may birth Illyrian children.” You shot her a grateful look, still not entirely sure why she was suddenly so invested in ensuring your happiness, but you wouldn’t complain.

Hera was the next to speak and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “Why is she getting special treatment again? What did she do that was so different?”

“She was tortured for days!” Athena exclaimed,

“So?” Ares now.

“She was a child, it was brutal.” Apollo jumped to your aid and soon the chamber was filled with shouting voices as they argued over your fate.

“SILENCE.” Zeus quieted the room instantly and every eye turned to him, but he remained focused on you, “Well then? Answer the question girl, what makes you so special?”

You thought for a second before answering, “I don’t consider it special treatment. After the battles I’ve fought and the pain I’ve endured to help your causes, I’d consider it a form of retirement.” You kept Zeus’ gaze and let a streak of the evil Hades had warned you off show, smiling when his smug smile disappeared. He waved his hand, “Very well then, High Fae with altered womb and permission to live in their world and visit our occasionally, that is all?”

You nodded and he assessed you before holding out his hand, his gaze darkening. You furrowed your eyebrows as your limbs started to tingle before pain took over your entire body.

You had felt pain so many times before, pain that left more than just physical trauma, but this was different. You felt as if your blood had become fire and every bone was breaking as new ones reformed. You didn’t have any sense of time or place, all you could feel was pain. At one point you thought it was over only to open your eyes, feeling impossibly soft sheets beneath you, and see Apollo hovering over you, sweat dripping from his brow as he took some of the pain away, even for just a moment.

When you finally awoke you were on the ground. You stood up quickly, almost knocking yourself over as your movement were much faster than usual. You were outside a glowing city, it didn’t have skyscrapers like New York, but it was so comforting to look at you felt yourself being drawn in. As you crossed the border however, a beautiful man with dark hair appeared, his eyes narrowing.

“Who are you and why are you trying to get in here?” A shot of fear went through you as you felt his magic, it was thick in the air and powerful.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone, I’m just looking for someone,” you explained, swallowing down the lump in your throat. The handsome man’s gaze turned vacant before softening after a moment.

“I apologise, I’m Rhysand. Let me help you find whoever it is, what’s their name?”

“That’s okay, really. His name is Azriel, but I don’t think he’s expecting me.” Rhysand stopped, his head turning towards you, “what is it?” you asked.

“(y/n)?”

“How do you know my name?” you stepped back but he held out his hands,

“No, no I’m Az’s brother, let me take you to him.” he grabbed your arm softly and suddenly you were standing in a warm room facing Azriel. You felt tears fill your eyes as you stared at him, he uttered your name in question and you nodded running into his arms, completely engulfed by his scent, tears of joy running down your face when you suddenly realised something, pulling away.

“Did you say brother?” you turned to Rhysand, feeling all the plants in the air respond to your calls, when Azriel tugged you back to him.

“Not biological don’t worry.” He whispered and Rhysand laughed.

“I like her.”

“Hmm I was two seconds away from castrating you,” His eyes widened slightly and you laughed, turning back to Azriel as he looked over you.

“How- you, you’re Fae?” His eyes were filled with worry again, afraid he was being tricked.

“I never got my reward remember, I knew I would need it in the future,” you smiled at him as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you. You pulled apart, Azriel growling when you heard catcalls, turning, and seeing the room had practically filled. A shot of fear went through you as your eyes landed on another man who had red siphons, and Azriel followed your gaze, a hand stroking your face in reassurance.

“So this must be (y/n), welcome to our home, I’m Feyre,” A beautiful woman stepped forward and clasped your hand in hers, which you noted were stained from paint. Everyone else soon made introductions and they urged you to sit as you found out about this makeshift family Azriel was in.

“Oh! That’ll be Nyx, I’ll go,” Feyre said when a baby started crying in the distance,

“Wait what did she say the babies name was?” You asked, holding in a laugh.

“Nyx?” Rhys said,

“Oh, course, cool cool cool,”

“What?” Azriel asked, looking at you strangely.

“I’ve kind of met her,”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s like the evilest deity there is, and she did not like me,” Rhysand stared at you with a look of shock on his face, but before anyone said anything else, Amren was laughing loudly.

“You must tell me all about these Gods girl.”

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

tags: @tastedlikedamnation

#acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #Azriel #azriel x reader #percyjackson #Heroes of Olympus

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fitzefitcher · 4 years ago

Text

faction conflict soapbox, pt. 2

school 2: I’m tired of faction conflict, in general

@alldepressednshit said: To be honest, it feels overdone. Also, it keeps getting sidelined by *insert world-threatining asspull* BfA could’ve been great if it was an actual civil war. Like a baron zemo type setting out to destroy the horde and alliance from within.

@ashyteg said: I wish we could all hang out and play hearthstone

@baenling said: annoying as fuck. should have been over in mists of pandaria. literally zero reason for the faction war to continue

@swampgallows said: i just like being a zombie lady with a conscience and an ability to be hugged by huge monster people who are my family and would never hurt me

Anonymous asked: I wish people would stop bickering over which faction is worse, admit both factions are problematic and stop trying to morally high road the other for faction pride.

Anonymous asked: Hi yes I have come to talk about Horde vs Alliance. Honestly I use to be a big fan of it back in the day. Two big factions, warring over resources that would occasionally have to realize there are bigger threats. Thought it was fun, had faction pride in grinding up PVP reps to be like: Yes FOR THE HORDE. I just think things took a big downturn in Mists. Before it felt kind of balanced, sure Garrosh was "bad" but at the time i thought: well Varian started the war back in Wrath. 1/?

Having the war break out across the continents when before it was sort of like a cold war with a few active fighting spots was cool! I didn't think the Horde was being portrayed as 100% evil! But after that... I don't think the Alliance has really been shown ever in the wrong or negative. And that's just fucking boring. Not to mention literally punishes half the player base for preferring one faction. The Horde has so much creative potential but they never use it. So really sours it. 2/2

so I think the core issue with this is probably less that the faction conflict itself is happening, and more that it's happening but without any sense or meaning, and that it's happening in such a way that feels extremely unbalanced on either side. faction conflict, when it's done well, can be an extremely rewarding and memorable experience.

like, anybody that's played vanilla will tell you how fun an experience the scarab wall event was, and I myself remember how fun the thunder isle event was. and I think what worked for those events was that they were less like. Dark, Gritty War Conflict, and more played like a high school field day. Like there's certainly competition, and faction pride, but it's actually fun because it's more focused on Achievement than it is on Active Conflict. Like, people meme on the Argent Crusade Sponsored Renaissance Faire, but tbh that's some the most fun I've had with wow, and it ended being a really memorable experience for me and many of the people I was playing with at the time, in part because it was so light-hearted and silly and campy. in my opinion, wow is at its best when it leans into the stupid, silly camp, and that's why hearthstone has a better handle on warcraft and its characters than wow does lmao.

But I will acknowledge that this doesn't always work beyond just gameplay mechanics and overall experience- I love the argent tournament, but as a story, it's dumb as fuck, and at the time, felt extremely out of place for the wrath storyline. Like, we did naxx, then ulduar, and we were revving up to do ICC, which was (and still is, for the most part) regarded as one of its most serious story arcs, and it held a lot of gravity to it in terms of buildup, and the sort of consquences it would have afterwards. Whether or not those consequences were actually addressed afterwards are another issue entirely, but the point here is, ICC is an extremely memorable raid, and was very rewarding as an experience and story end (for the most part, let's stay on topic though), and it absolutely would not have worked if they had leaned into the campy silliness that worked for other things in wow. Here, the grim seriousness does work, because there was plenty of setup and payoff for it. like, even well before we get to ICC, or even wrath, there's buildup for the scourge starting in vanilla, and even in w3.

I think the wrath expansion in general was very very memorable, bc it was an expac where the stakes were pretty well-balanced in terms of alliance and horde content. like, the alliance's bone to pick with scourge is fairly obvious, and while the horde's was less so, the forsaken's was even more obvious, and there was planting and payoff of how the horde needed to go, both because the forsaken are their ally and this is their time of need, and that the scourge are a threat to everyone. truthfully, the alliance side of things I don't remember quite as well, but it was more staged as like, the alliance sort of acknowledging that Arthas (and that many aspects of the Scourge including KT and the cult of the damned) are very much problems that stemmed from the Alliance, and that they had a sort of responsibility to take care of it and make things right, even if they weren't necessarily Directly responsible for Arthas himself. So, there's equal setup in place for both factions, and equal stakes, even if they're not the same, and what faction conflict that does happen within the storyline has a setup and payoff. like, let's look at the wrathgate: a rogue faction of forsaken unleash hell on everyone at the battle of the wrathgate, whether they be scourge, alliance, or horde, and there are immediate consequences afterwards for each faction that feel engaging and meaningful. horde-side, you have to drive out the traitors that turned against your ally and retake one of your core cities, and alliance-side, you're taking immediate action against a faction that just completely fucked you over at a really key battle against a mutual enemy, a particular part of that faction that was already on thin fucking ice to begin with in terms of like. doing morally questionable, reprehensible things. and the ending, while daunting and honestly a little emotionally frustrating, neither punishes nor rewards either faction, and amps up the conflict in a way that feels realistic given the circumstances. And I think that this was really memorable as a questline, and as an expansion, because again, there was setup and payoff, but also, the prior two expansions weren't super focused on the faction conflict as much as wrath had started drumming up.

yes, there was conflict, obviously, but it wasn't so all-consuming as to make it tiresome or overwhelming or frustrating, and didn't feel particularly unbalanced or unfair. I think it should also be noted that faction conflict had never taken the spotlight so strongly in this way before, so it was this novel thing still being explored, and again, working off of things that had previous setup, felt like reasonable or realistic consequences, and above all, were balanced in what sort of story beats were being explored for either faction. wrath for the most part felt like a very natural, very organic step forward in the wow storyline overall, and while I don't agree with every decision made with it, particularly towards the end, I cannot deny that it was definitely one of if not my favorite expansion, and was extremely formative for how I engage with wow, and with stories as a whole.

all that being said, I think it's a fairly reasonable conclusion to draw that faction conflict in recent years has been souring the game for a lot of people, and I can't really blame them, as I, too, have a bone to pick with it. bofa in particular was pretty rough for a number of reasons, but I think the number one reason is how unbalanced it felt in terms of storyline for either faction. bofa imo sortof works as a synopsis for why Horde Bias(TM) is such a huge point of contention between horde and alliance, in that the horde faction spent most of the expansion losing characters, whether that be to character death or death of character development, watched their faction tear themselves apart for what feels like dozens of times now, and basically felt as though that the Evil label was being forced on them, and that they had no choice in the matter for any of this. The alliance faction, meanwhile, didn't really get much of anything. Kul Tiras isn't really as rewarding a leveling experience as Zandalar is in terms of the individual zone stories being strung together, the allied race factions they got didn't feel as fun or varied as the ones the horde got, and seemingly had no actions, issues, or consequences with any sort of serious examination. It's hard to have fun or get any sort of emotional satisfaction from a story that doesn't really let you do anything, and doesn't really show that your actions have any consequences at all, whether they be good or bad, and seemingly is spending all of their time and attention on the other faction. Like, the horde is suffering, and that suffering is definitely, wholly unfair, but the alliance seemingly isn't getting any sort of attention, at all. But because they're not constantly getting a bat to the head story-wise, horde players (including myself) just get really frustrated when accused of favoritism, because like. There is literally no benefit whatsoever to having blizzard's attention, when all blizzard does is take away everything you love lmao. This, I would say, is a matter of violence vs. negligence. Both are forms of harm, but they are radically different in terms of how they hurt you, and neither is inherently more hurtful than the other.

I think if I were to propose a solution to this, I think that the first step should be to pull back on faction conflict as a major component to the story, which they have at least partially. But I think the next step is to give a fairer distribution of attention to characters. Like, I complain about the Horde losing characters, and I'm not taking that back because it's True, but it would be remiss of me not to touch on the fact that, for how many dozens of characters the alliance has, the only ones who really get the attention are like. Human Males. In particular, Anduin. And if they're not Anduin, they're usually characters within Anduin's immediate peer circle. And then the characters that aren't human men and do get attention are usually ones that are getting shafted, somehow, or are getting painted as Wrong and Violent and Stupid for Disagreeing With Anduin- i.e., tyrande. And before Anduin, the only character that really got any sort of serious attention was Varian, which is probably why alliance players as a whole took his death so hard. It's hard not to feel some kind of way about losing a favorite toy when that toy is damn near the only one you functionally have lmao.

I know shadowlands as an expac has been pretty polarizing to people in terms of experience, but tbh I think this is a good step forward in resetting the stakes, and making things in either faction feel a little more balanced. I do think that the consequences of the conflict in bofa has to be addressed Eventually, and I'm honestly a little afraid of what they're going to do next, but this is alright for now.

#essay tag #faction conflict soapbox #warcraft #long post wheezes

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