#rather than all my separate little spheres

[neversetyoufree]

Considering doing something really stupid right now

[nonbinaryspy]

Meta: Elincia's Trolley Problems

Elincia's arc comes into sharpest relief when you consider both PoR and RD together. From living a sheltered life as a secret princess, to watching her parents get killed as her country is invaded, to eventually rising to the challenge of her unexpected role as queen, she has to deal with important decisions at every turn. Every action she takes is out of love for Crimea's people and a desire to secure them safe and happy lives. But what happens when she has to choose between the life of a loved one and the future of the overall populace? Both PoR and RD test this with narrative beats that form a perfect mirror, ultimately reflecting Elincia's development.

Path of Radiance

Throughout PoR, Elincia has been separated from her usual support network, particularly her retainers. After returning to Crimea, she finally finds them—however, in chapter 24, before she is able to reunite with Geoffrey, he is left behind to fend off Daein troupes so that Elincia can escape. Elincia is naturally horrified.

Bastian: Geoffrey's acting as a decoy. You must continue on this road to the southwest. Lucia: So the enemy's found us, eh? Lucia: Nothing to do about it but change course. I'll lead you to another hiding place. Elincia: Wh-what are you saying, Lucia? We must help Geoffrey! Bastian? Lucia: Luck was not with us, Princess. We have no choice. We'll have to abandon our companions in Castle Delbray. Elincia: No!! We will not!! Geoffrey and the others have survived so much already... I will not abandon them! Lucia: Princess, please understand. If we could do so without danger to you, we would gladly risk our lives to go back. Elincia: We cannot do this! Please, Lucia! We must go to the castle! ...Bastian! You must not do this thing! Bastian: Geoffrey is a knight. In the name of our friend's honor, Princess, you must escape. Elincia: No... No! They've survived this long! They're alive! NO!!!

When Ike gives her the chance to instead save Geoffrey, she affirms that this is what she wants.

Elincia: Yes. I don't want... I don't want anyone else to be sacrificed.

Lucia and Bastian respect her wishes and agree to help Geoffrey, at which point she is able to get her feelings across.

Elincia: Because the two of you think to put me above all else, you say you will sacrifice your lives for me. Yet... Even if I'm able to borrow of Ike's strength and win back Crimea... If the cost of that victory is the lives of the two of you, I shall never smile again. And joy? Never again would that emotion fill my heart...

Elincia is a leader, but she's also a person—one who never asked for this role. Until recently, she has not had to make decisions that would affect the future of a whole country, as opposed to only living within her personal sphere. In fact, the main political decision made re: her life—the decision to keep her birth secret—was made for her. She has already lost her parents and, as far as she knows, her beloved uncle.

Since then, her choices have all been for the sake of Crimea. In reality, she has had little choice in how to go about that goal, considering she has been fleeing for her life while at the whims of Begnion politics. Being able to return to Crimea and reunite with her retainers is the first time she has been running toward, rather than away, from something, and still part of that goal is being held from her reach. Nothing will stop her from working hard for Crimea, but individual losses will still give her permanent grief. So here, she finally takes a stand against the choices other people try to make for her, and insists on protecting her loved ones and regaining some of what she lost.

What happens next depends on the player, but considering her retainers are alive in RD, the duology's canon here is that they all survive this fight. Due to Elincia getting her feelings across, her loved ones are saved, and the campaign continues.

After this experience, the cost of individual lives in war is hammered home, and Elincia decides it's not enough to order others to keep her retainers safe. Regaining her inherited pegasus and sword, she takes to the field despite the mixed feelings of her retainers.

Elincia: Even though I'm dressed like this, I have no experience, and do not expect to fight as well as the rest of you. But…this constant waiting behind and doing nothing…it sets my heart beating with such unease I fear it may burst. Even if I cannot fight, I could use a staff to heal the wounded. If I could save just one soldier, it would mean so much to me.

This quote shows her resolve and compassion, but it also shows that she still lacks experience and confidence, especially when it comes to conflict. Despite being trained in swordplay, she instead emphasizes her ability to heal, and sets a fairly low bar for what her contribution will mean. Although, given that this plot demonstrates the importance of saving an individual life, maybe I shouldn't call it a low bar. Either way, at this point, there is still plenty of room for her to grow and change, and RD will challenge her to due so.

Radiant Dawn

Part two of Radiant Dawn focuses on Ludveck attempting to usurp Elincia's throne by stirring up reactionary attitudes toward her policies, specifically with regards to her alliance with Gallia, to threaten civil war and pressure her into giving up her throne. Because she fears the conflict that could come out of taking direct action against a noble, and because his followers are also citizens of Crimea for whom she feels responsible, she approaches the situation carefully. Ludveck takes advantage of this hesitance to eventually kidnap Lucia.

Once again, one of the Delbray siblings is in peril, and this time, as Crimea's queen, Elincia does not need to convince anyone to save her. Instead, she takes to the field herself. As with PoR, she had not immediately done so—in this case, because of the delicacy the situation called for. But with Lucia's life at risk and Ludveck's forces at Elincia's door, she decides the time for delicacy is past.

Elincia: “Lucia… Lucia, I’m sorry. Somehow, I promise you… I will save you!” ... Elincia: “…Very well. I must prepare as well. I had hoped this day would never come… Amiti, the treasured blade of House Crimea, will awaken from its long slumber.”

Unlike in PoR, rather than focusing on her healing ability, she mentions Amiti. She no longer needs to make disclaimers or doubt the importance of her role commanding the field. The wording of "I had hoped this day would never come" and "awaken from its long slumber" emphasize that she has already been through the horrors of war once, and never wanted to again. She despises violence, but she is resigned to doing what she must.

Despite holding out against Ludveck's forces and throwing him in the dungeon, she is not able to do anything about his trump card. With Lucia as hostage, he tries to use her life as a bargaining chip for his release, as well as the country. After the incident in PoR, where her retainers saw their own lives as disposable, she convinced them to realize how valuable they were to her. So with the Delbray siblings' situations reversed, Geoffrey now asks Elincia to save Lucia.

Geoffrey: “…Your Majesty, you can’t… You have to let me do something about this.” Elincia: “…” Geoffrey: “Lucia would willingly die fighting for her country, I know… But you have to help her, Elincia. If you were in her position, she would surely do the same. Please, just give the word.”

Again, Elincia is at the point where she is taking action herself instead of entreating others. Rather than order him to do anything, Elincia visits Ludveck in what is one of the most defining scenes of her arc. The non-extended version is below as I think it gets the point across quite well, but there are more dialogue beats in the extended version.

Ludveck: “Queen Elincia, you’re so naive. Cold and callous decisions are sometimes required of a nation’s ruler. …I was testing you. We all wanted to know if our queen would have the power to stop a civil war.” Ludveck: “But, no, you were too hesitant and too concerned about harming the people… Now look what has happened. The rule of Crimea cannot be kept in your hands! Please, Your Majesty! You must abdicate and cede the crown to me!” Ludveck: “And considering Lady Lucia’s life is on the line, you haven’t much choice. Now, let’s have you free me from this prison cell, and then we can discuss any further details…” Elincia: “I don’t think so.” Ludveck: “What?! Are you truly willing to sacrifice Lady Lucia?!” Elincia: “…Lord Ludveck, all your dissatisfaction and misgivings about me are well founded. However, do you realize how many lives you’ve simply thrown away?! Strength without compassion does not a ruler make. You care nothing for the people, sir. You cloak your desire to rule with pretty speeches, but it is petty avarice nonetheless!” Ludveck: “…So this is how it shall be? Very well… But Lady Lucia cannot be spared without my order.” Elincia: “Allowing you to plant the seeds of rebellion and play havoc with the lives of my people is a failure for which I must answer. But I will see Crimea through this trial. I will give my people the future they deserve, no matter the cost.”

Ludveck patronizes Elincia for her compassion while pretending he has the citizens' best interests at heart, but Elincia doesn't bow to his demands. She maintains her compassion along with her resolve. However, no matter how caring someone is, the fact of the matter is that decisions that help even a great deal of people still come with consequences. Elincia realizes this, and is prepared to make that sacrifice while taking responsibility—even though, as she said in PoR, she "shall never smile again."

In the beginning of PoR, Elincia lost almost everything in one fell swoop. When she was finally reunited with her retainers, the thought of sacrificing even one of them was unbearable, even if it could potentially have derailed her goal to retake her country from an invading tyrant. Now, though, she is in a position of greater power, and she is fully aware of the responsibility that comes with it. Compared to PoR, where she was so often at the mercy of others, the only thing tying her hands now is the threat to Lucia. Of course, Lucia is immensely important to her, but after spending three years working to rebuild Crimea, nothing can convince her to let it again fall to ruin under another power-hungry leader.

Thankfully, Lucia's life and Elincia's smiles are saved, thanks to Bastian secretly calling in the Greil Mercenaries. Despite her resolve, Elincia's conflicting priorities are still apparent, as in the extended version (translation on Serenes Forest provided below) she expresses wonder at her decision. As for her retainers, though their feelings on how she should handle such situations have shifted over time, they don't begrudge her decision.

Elincia: “…When Lucia was captured… It was as if I lost my other half. Even now, seeing her by my side, I feel so strange… Wondering how, at that time, I could make the decision to abandon her…” Lucia: “Lady Elincia…” Elincia: “Still… If the same scenario occurred… I believe I would make the same decision. Lucia’s life is important, but it’s not on the same scale as protecting the country. As the Queen of Crimea, I must accomplish my duty to the country foremost.” Lucia: “Of course. Seeing Lady Elincia being able to make this decision, it truly makes me happy. As if I would hate you.” Geoffrey: “My thoughts exactly.” Elincia: “Lucia, Geoffrey… I value your lives more than even my own. But it’s my duty to protect this country, even if that means losing you. I’ve learned a lot from all of this. I hope to keep them out of harm’s way, and I’ll never make the same mistakes again.”

By the end of this section, the bulk of Elincia's arc is complete. She has decided what matters to her and what she will do as queen when put into high-pressure situations. She resolves the situation by deciding to be openly harsh in punishing Ludveck's followers despite the fact that it will gain ire toward her, as refusing to do so before gave him the opening he needed. She has decided to be uncompromising in the face of reactionary politics. Not everyone in Crimea will agree with her decisions, but those closest to her will never waver in their loyalty, to the extent that they are both willing to live and die for her. It's no wonder that, as her epilogue says, "Her reign was remembered as a golden age."

Conclusion

Because I touched on the topic of Elincia's agency and how she maneuvers within the limits of it, I want to give a brief shout-out to her actions in part three. She is Gallia's ally and does not want any more bloodshed in her lands. However, due to Begnion exercising its imperial power, she cannot fully stop its army from entering her lands in pursuit of the laguz alliance. The action she ultimately takes, dropping her weapon in between the opposing armies and essentially daring them to murder a queen of a country with whom they're both allied, all without betraying her own nonviolent ideals, is an unparalleled power move.

Getting back to Elincia's trolley problems, what I find interesting is that though Elincia's decisions are different in PoR and RD, neither game condemns her for her choices. She cares for both the mass of strangers that comprise her kingdom and the loved ones who she's spent her life beside. Her situation in each game is different, so she handles each situation differently in ways that make sense given her roles, pressures, and motivations.

FE in general, and Tellius in particular, asks the characters and players to care about the fates of individual lives as well as whole worlds. Both PoR and RD present the question of what someone would or should do when these personal and political goals conflict, without giving one black-and-white answer. Elincia's arc is just one impactful example of this.

As for me, I'm not gonna lie—though Elincia doesn't have the option to reset the game whenever someone dies, I probably always will.

[parrythisucasual]

Heyaa! How your doing? Can I request how Jax would react to his s/o being just like ENA? When she always swapping personality for being too overwhelmed whit all and then vomiting (just like that scene whit her and Moony, and if you can may add Moony being...Moony? Being mean to her)

I DID MY BEST SORRY SORRY I REALLY AM GETTING TO ALL ASKS I PROMISE!!!!!!

Jax  ENA! Reader

“Wh-where am I? What is this place?” you cry out, grabbing either side of your head in a panic. You grip your oddly-cut hair, clenching it in yur fists and tugging, “Who are you people?! I hate people! I’m allergic!!” you suddenly feel rather calm, that little outburst nothing more than an embarrassing slip of the mind, “So very sorry about that!” You smoot your hair into its original, calm state.

“Uh… wow, what an entrance,” a strange, mix-and-match creature speaks first, “that’s even weirder than half the (DINK!!) that comes out of Kinger’s mouth.” The doll steps closer to you, reaching forward to get your attention, “She’s rather divided anyways, look at her,” she hums, “two entirely different halves, down to the color and texture.”

You glance down at your hands, confused, “I am not two dif-” you stop. You were. You were two separate colors, two opposing textures. It was dizzyingly terrifying.You scream, the sorrow and fear rushing over you once more.

,”No, no! I don’t wanna be like this!” you wail, waving your hands, “I’m so hideous I could-” you retch, liquified censoring spewing from your lips. You hurl your guts at the group’s feet. “Is this a bad time?” A new voice questioned. The doll glanced up, “Oh, Caine, good! Can you do your whole… you know, introduction? It might help?”

“Or it’ll make her have even more of a crisis,” The rabbit pointed out, “I don’t know about you all, but I don’t exactly want to deal with her puking again. “HEY! You leave her alone, only I’M allowed to bully her, you wad!” A floating sphere appeared behind you. 

“Moony!” Thank goodness, I was worried about you!” You chirp, somehow knowing she is your friend. The calmness washed over you once more as you hopped up, smiling at her. You glance at the others once more, “Apologies again, dearest chums! I entirely forgot to introduce myself! I’m (Y/N)!”

~~~~~~~~~~TIMESKIP~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been stuck in the circus for a few weeks now. Part of you was used to it now, you resigned yourself to the fact this is how things were now. The other side, however, was the part that kept you thinking you’d wake up, or that you could find an exit soon. It was hard, being so bipolar, but you had gotten used to it.

Recently, you’d noticed Jax had been following you around. Well, more than he used to. He used to follow you occasionally, mostly to make snide comments. That was a pastime of his. But in these recent encounters, some of them you’d never directly interacted with him. You’d just see him at a distance, and he’d look away or leave. 

“Ugh! (Y/N), get your weird, gross boyfriend!” Moony complained loudly, making an exaggerated sick face. She floated around you, now in front of you. You glance up at her, “I don’t have a boyfriend, friend Moony!” you chirp, smiling. She nods her head behind you, “Then what do you call HIM?”

You turn, noticing the lavender rabbit quite a distance behind you. You blink in confusion, squinting at him. Why was he following you? You wave at him, arm making large swipes above your head, “JAX!” -you call- “Over here!”

He makes a face at you, although he quickens his pace. He’s now awkwardly jogging, trying to catch up to you. “EW! (Y/N), no! Don’t call him over! Ugh! It was supposed to be besties night!” Your shoulders droop, suddenly awash in despair, “You’re RIGHT! I’m sorry Moony! I’m such a horrible friend! I ruined everythiiiiiiing!” She rolls her eyes, then unexpectedly perked up.

“Wait, maybe we can hang out with him! He’s a guy, but having another person would make truth or dare funner!” She grinned, looking at you mischievously. You sniffle as Jax finally catches up with the two of you. 

“Half and half, nice to see ya,” his smile was wide, but his voice suggested a casual tone. You rub at your eyes, “It can’t be! I’m no-good! I’ll make you upset!” Your shoulders roll forward suddenly as you stand upright, at a slightly inclined angle.

Jax was unfazed by the sudden change, not sparing more than a bored stare. You smile at him regardless, “Ah! Yes! Come with us! Moony’s room ahead!” He followed behind, groaning, “A weird nonbinary and girl sleepover? No thanks! But fine.” 

The group of you entered Moony’s room. She’d already gotten everything ready. Snacks piled in one corner and a pile of pillows and blankets all over the floor. You clap your hands together happily, “Oh! All set up! How lonely! Deepest gratitude!” You settle yourself on the cat pillow and relax. Moony lays herself in the beanbag chair beside you, and Jax on your other side.

Moony sighed dramatically, “In proper besties night tradition, I will now spill all the latest drama I’ve come across,” she cleared her throat, and delved into a long-winded speech. You glance at Jax midway through her dialog drop. “So! Why were you truly following us?” you question him, “I’m well aware you do it a lot. I didn’t realize others knew as well, or I’d have asked sooner.” 

His cheeks flushed very slightly, barely noticeable, “What are you talking about?” Oh, so thats the direction- playing dumb. You get a wild urge and decide to play with this a bit.

Yeah, I could have sworn I've been seeing you everywhere I go,” you raise a brow playfully, letting him know how long you’ve been aware of it. He scoffs, waving you off, “Why would I do that? You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Yeah, maybe… why? Why would you?” You turned his denial into a genuine question. Moony’s rambling filled the air between you two for far too long, his deciding on which answer to give taking much longer than it should. He is teetering on the verge of his response, and you sigh and shake your head.

“Its not honest if it's been this long, I don’t wanna hear it. If it’s something dumb like you like me just say it!” He stopped dead, then his face became one of a man about to get his revenge. “Akright,” he agreed, “yeah. I like you. You’re pretty cool. Way cooler than the others. And youre genuine. You get it?”

You’re stunned, the confession was very obviously genuine. You stammer a moment, trying to say something even you didn’t know what it would be. Moony shouted above your thoughts, however, adding only more confusion, “Oh my god, I TOLD you, (Y/N)! He likes you!” Your face flushes, and your friend giggles at you. Your gaze snaps between an eager to watch Moony and a worried about the response Jax.

You blink, mind finally catching up to you, “Y-you do? I… Would you like to… go on a date?” you tested nervously. Jax’s shoulders dipped in relief, “Yeah. Maybe a day at the fairgrounds.” You nod your agreement, scooting closer to him.

Moony puffed up her metaphorical chest, “My plan totally worked!” You glance at her, a disbeleiving frown playing on your lips, “Oh yeah? Plan?” She grinned, “Yeah, I definitely set this up so you two would confess.” You laughed, “Sure you did, Moony.”

As you spoke, Jax set his hand on yours. You respond by tanging your fingers with his, your heart picking up slightly. You weren’t sure, exactly, how it had happened, but you were positive is wasnt Moony. Either way, you were glad it had.

[tarnishedinquirer]

Beneath Stormveil

Here the damage seemed the worst. In places, the walls were red and raw, almost as if they were bleeding. I continued down and reached a room with a very interesting painting.

It was Stormhill, before Stormveil Castle was ever built. The world looked so much wilder and more vibrant back then. The colors were deep blacks and rich greens, not the washed-out greys and pale greens of current Limgrave. The place that would once become the Chapel of Anticipation was part of the mainland, separated by a waterfall rather than a chasm. There's no trace of the black stone pillars that underlay the entire land. The Stormfoot Catacombs are open, with no door. And, while something was gleaming gold, it sure didn't look like the Erdtree.

Yet the Divine Tower and bridge were already there, and already so ancient the bridge had started to crumble. Curious.

After examining the painting as much as I could, I unlocked the door back to the Site of Grace and continued downward.

This was by far the oldest and most neglected portion of the castle. It's unlikely it would get any light except at high noon. The only creatures down here were vermin. Giant bats and rats, the scavengers and dwellers in the dark.

Now that I was down here, it became clear that this was a dumping ground for the castle above. Specifically, it seemed that all the statues removed in the various ideological purges were just shoved into the abyss.

There's the expected statues of women holding ewers or missing their hands, but there's a few statues that stand out to me. They're almost completely buried, so possibly the oldest statues ever dumped down here, and depict hooded figures either holding a book or holding a dagger. Unfortunately, I don't have any context to interpret them. Maybe I'll find some more later.

A scarab almost misses my notice, were it not for the sound they make. I track it down and it's carrying an unusual Sorcery called Rancorcall.

I say it's unusual because using it would require almost as much faith as intellect. That unnerved me a little. Sorcery is supposed to be the result of consistent, observable phenomenon. Concrete things that may be more difficult to observe and comprehend, but are ultimately just as real as a sword. To apply your intellect to the task of how best to surrender it to a higher power seemed perverse to me.

The voice said:

Sorcery of the servants of Death. Summons vengeful spirits that chase down foes. Once though lost, this ancient death hex was rediscovered by the necromancer Garris.

Going on my theory that scarabs only appear where abilities like ashes of war, sorceries, or incantations are used, and somehow they gather up some invisible residue to make their spheres, I would suspect that Garris must've been here at some point. Perhaps this is where he even developed his techniques? I doubt he's still here.

To draw a connection, I found the Rancor Pot recipe in the Tombsward Catacombs. It has a similar effect of summoning vengeful spirits, though different methods. Am I to assume Garris might also have been there? That might explain how Deathroot got inside...

Now I came to a cliff overlooking a root-choked and damp chamber below. Bones littered the floor. Some were stacked up in drifts, but there were also complete skeletons resting in what looked like old, rotted canoes. Perhaps a vestige of some water burial in the past? At one time, they might have sent the dead over the waterfall that once ran through here. Once that dried up, they instead just buried the dead in their canoes.

But what interested me most was the grand baldachin, now rotted and torn, draped across the chamber beyond. Something important must be there.

Before I could approach, a terrible creature burst out of the ground. I'd seen its ilk once before, in the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. An Ulcerated Tree Spirit, a great writhing snake-root, like a serpentine mandrake. Even as I knew its movements, it was still so erratic that it was hard to predict at times. As it slammed me against the walls, I knew now where the drifts of bones had come from.

Once I had slain the beast. I was free to recover its treasures, both here and in the chamber beyond. Much like the last, it dropped a Golden Seed.

As for the chamber... I can scarcely describe it. I'll try to sketch it but I don't think I can do justice to the sheer presence of this thing. Despite looking like a stone carving, I knew on an instinctual level that it was alive.

It was a face, or approximation thereof. Yet it could not have been more inhuman. It at once looked floral, fungal, and animal. The lower half of the face was like an oyster mushroom, and from there emerged thick tendrils like thorny vines. The upper half had a disturbingly human nose but two oddly angled eyes, or at least eye sockets. The lids themselves were empty.

The whole thing burst through the stone wall on a thick body like a salamander, though if it had arms, they had not emerged from the wall. And its was very clearly a violent entry, with rubble piled up around it. Nearby, there was a bloodstain, and a corpse holding an item in its hands.

Oh hell. The bloodstain was Rogier. If he can't see Grace anymore, then can he even come back? Is he just dead for real now? I couldn't even see what got him but it looked bad. It lifted him up and seemed to impale him from multiple angles. I hope he's okay. I actually kinda like the guy. It was rare to talk to someone both intellectual and down to earth like that.

The corpse had a... Prince of Death's Pustule?!

A fetid pustule taken from facial flesh. It is said that this pustule came from the visage of the Prince of Death, he who used to be called Godwyn. As First Dead of the demigods, it's said he's buried deep under the capital, at the Erdtree's roots.

It is said, it is said, it is said. I hate it when the Voice uses weasel words. Who says?

If Godwyn was the first to die, then it is his death that created the Deathroot. Deathroot sprouts similar faces to the one on this pustule. The same milky white eyes, the same thorny tendrils... There was a couple things that puzzled me. I noted fish fins on the Deathroot growing in various catacombs and Summonwater Village. Despite its aquatic appearance, this face held no trace of such details, resembling an amphibian more than a fish. Second, while the Deathroot and Pustule share the milky white eyes, this visage does not. Instead, its sockets are empty.

Third, if we take the voice at face value and say that Godwyn actually is buried under the capital... why did this face burst out of the southeast wall? The capital is to the northeast. I can buy the Greattree roots spreading throughout the Lands Between, but I'd still expect such a creature to burrow through from the correct direction. The only things off that direction are the Stormfoot Catacombs and the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. And since the painting confirms that at least one of those was here before the castle, I find myself doubting if this is even Godwyn at all, or some other, forgotten Prince of Death.

I'll review my notes about those places and see if I can gain any insight, but arbitrary skepticism doesn't do any good. I have to assume that this is Godwyn, or at least an aspect of him, until strong evidence presents itself otherwise.

Still, to quote the only cleric I ever got on with, "Doubting is what I do."

With my investigation concluded, the only way to go was up. Thankfully there was a conveniently placed, if alarmingly tall, rope ladder. I began what was sure to be a very long ascent.

I had at last gotten answers on the rot infecting Stormveil, but they only left me with more questions.

Who are the dagger and book statues? Why were they purged?

If Godfrey built the earliest Stormveil, who built the tower and bridge?

Is that face Godwyn? If not, who could it possibly be?

If it is Godwyn, why would it come from the wrong direction?

Why does this face look so different from the other faces? Why is it missing its eyes?

Who is Garris? What was he doing beneath Stormveil?

What happened to Rogier?

Why was he looking for this?

[bijoumikhawal]

Bite the Hand that Starves You: Chapter Three

Fic as of this chapter contains: discussion of abortion, references to drug use, intersex and trans characters, torture/graphic violence, colonialism and its aftermath, implied sexual violence,

Heads up: this chapter has some of Garak ruminating on his experience with bioessentialism, sex, and gender in a society that I think is pretty fucked up in approach to the topic and not friendly to those who perform gender "incorrectly", and I don't think Garak necessarily has an internal understanding separate from that even if he's uncomfortable with it. In general this fic is complicated because Garak is canonically effeminate and that compounds with the themes here in a new way (+ a lot of people I think would view the "progressive" thing as Garak shedding his effeminacy, which I find insulting from my own perspective as someone effeminate who is a "stereotype").

There is also a pair of scenes where it is ambigious if consent to sex was given or not, but it is not graphic. The first is when Barkan comes into the bathroom with Garak, the second is the scene after Julian and Dr. Ammshah schedule Garak's appointment. There is another with a violent undertone, which begins with "Garak had had an odd nightmare".

Kardasi: Peikirvi - would translate to something like "concubine", specifically refers to an individual that socially presents as male, and was assigned such at birth, but can carry children (and often could impregnate someone else), who is legally bound to someone. Usually this is done with a pre-existing couple who has fertility issues.

Cheoche and cheyeda: could be translated as something like "patron" and "vassal". "Che" in Kardasi refers to charity, which is viewed as a duty to society rather than a choice made of good will. More specifically, a cheoche is a wealthy family/clan who takes on the affairs of a poorer or weaker one (the cheyeda), legally binding the two together for several generations. This can be typified in three ways: the cheyeda being a family who was once great and has become destitute, the family of a beloved artist, or a family of the "service class". For the latter, having a cheoche often provides a stable income, food, housing, and better schooling and training. Some cheyeda even have inheritance rights from their cheoche. However, while the relationship is glorified as going above and beyond ones duty, it is a system rife with abuse. The Tain and Garak families are bound this way.

--

There had been a time, just before his age of emergence, when Garak had stared in the mirror trying to see just what was different from other boys and him. He wasn't the sort who was recognized for his unique position at birth- it had come later, at a milestone medical exam.

He hardly acknowledged the mirror as he exited the shower now, quickly pulling on a robe before the water could chill him.

He'd combed and squeezed the water out of his hair before stepping out- Julian had gotten him a warming tile for his pomade, which he'd set up before stepping in. The scent of warm wax filled the room, along with the essence of herbs purported as beneficial.

It was a frivolous thing. Garak had a pull out stove for making tea that he could warm the tin on just as well. But it did make his routine a little faster.

He dug his fingers into the pale green liquid, hot enough to be just this side of uncomfortable. As he tugged it through his hair, he could already see it resolidifying, leaving his fingers cool again.

Even after the diagnosis, his recategorization had been inconsistent, even private, which was his value. Would he be here at all if he was not recognized for passing between spheres? Women were not well suited to outside work, in the immediate sense and the sense of borders. Garak was not a woman, but he filled the role of one for the sake of biology, as well as the role of a man. His primary root in manhood meant that was how he passed through the world. The secondary root ruled how he had to live once the doors were closed.

It prickled along the back of his neck, the practicality of it all. Would he even know his own body if it wasn't so?

He tried not to think about the whole matter. He always had carried on that way; he had redoubled his efforts after… after his exile. He was quite good at it.

Most of the time. He'd been too good, lately.

He had behaved differently from other boys.

No one who knew commented upon it, precisely, as related. But it was… a trope, in some ways. In general, what one was born as influenced the behavior, if everything was well with the mind. When one behaved differently from other boys, you could assume two things: madness, or two roots. Because of his privacy, the former was often assumed. Until after Romulus, that is...

He'd run a comb through his hair again once he was done, to make sure the pomade was distributed evenly.

He clicked off the warming tile.

And if you need someone- to talk to, to help you, to-

Garak sighed, tied his robe tighter, and opened a comms line on his terminal.

---

Garak had had an odd nightmare, after Barkan had essentially proposed, the weeks between then and the ceremony (he had to inform his household, and the military, of his new addition, after all).

He was in his old bedroom again, down in the basement. That was how he knew it was a dream.

Someone was in the room with him. His limbs, eyelids, blanket, were all so heavy, he could not look to see who, or reach out, but he knew. Who else would slip into bed with him as he slept?

Tains weight shifted on the mattress. For whatever reason- the shift made Garak realize why his limbs felt heavy. They were manacled- securing him to the bed.

"Peikirvi don't get a dowry or dower. But I deserve compensation, Elim. I'm giving up something very important, after all."

It was- an old custom. Between a cheoche and service class cheyeda- other cheyeda, they had no such custom, for the cheoche demand compensation before allowing a marriage, no matter the type. And the service class only had it if they were lucky enough to have a cheoche. If the suitor didn't pay, the cheoche revoked whatever blessings had been given, and kept the... piece of their household.

The chains, in the meantime, prevented elopement.

It had been outlawed as something you could only do to subjugated peoples, decades ago.

---

Julian didn't know what he expected when Garak asked him to come see him. The robe, certainly, was not high on the list.

"Where was that a few months ago?" Julian asked lightly. "Don't tell me you had pajamas that whole time."

Garak stepped back to let him in. "I didn't care to change into them at the time, doctor."

Julian felt the urge to touch him, but kept his hands to himself, remembering the last time he'd done that in this room.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine." Garak sat down. “We haven't been talking to each other as friends much lately.”

Julian sat as well, following his lead. “No, we haven't. Are you still struggling with your appetite-”

“No doctor talk.” Garak held up a hand. “I called you here as a friend,” he emphasized, “and that means I don't want to hear a word about my… medical concerns.”

“Alright.” Julian clasped his hands together, for want of a better thing to do with them. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

Garak leaned back. “Nothing in particular.”

Ah. What a load of bullocks. But Julian would play along. “I apologize, but I've been too busy to finish the book you gave me last. Work.”

“Slacking off on our cultural exchanges…” Garak said with distant disapproval, as he looked to his left, lips parted. “What am I to do with you?”

Stay. Julian felt his cheeks warm at the odd thought. It wasn't as though Garak was deathly ill this time. This all would be over and done within a week, most likely. “I don't know, Docent Garak. What will you do with me?”

Garak’s breath caught, and he turned to look at Julian. He closed his mouth. “Remedial discussion should suffice.”

Julian laughed. He'd leaned forwards at some point, and he didn't bother correcting himself. “Alright.”

“Gender relations. These are relevant in every Cardassian work of literature, and in every aspect of Cardassian life overall. What have you observed?”

Julian leaned back. “Everyone is restricted in their movements and behaviors, women a bit more so. Ornamentation is more for women as well, but not entirely, and it's not necessarily seen in a bad light. Men are pushed towards the military, but in a lot of the older settings there's plenty of writers too. Er… men are generally seen as emotional, women as more stoic, able to separate themselves from things…” Julian trailed off. “Don't look at me like that, you put me on the spot and asked me about something rather complicated!”

“The most basic, distilled statement I can give you is this: men and women are distinct, but considered equal, on Cardassia.” Garak says, face impassive.

Julian thinks on it for a moment, and catches the quiet, hidden meaning. Those which are not distinct…

“I see. Interesting.”

Garak gave him a wan smile. “Is it? Are they not distinct to you? Or perhaps not equal?”

“Like I said before: it's complicated. What is a man, afterall? What is a woman? What-” Julian thought carefully. “I might see one of each that look and act almost entirely the same, within minutes of each other. Perhaps of different cultures, different contexts, or perhaps not. They are distinct but the distinction is- personal. Intimate.”

“Intimate.” Garak’s expression grew slightly solemn. “You would use that word, wouldn't you?”

Julian blinked. Clearly he'd missed something. “Is it wrong? When something is a matter of self knowledge- isn't that intimate, perhaps the most intimate something can be?”

A bitter air had entered the room, and it only intensified. The word choice had struck a nerve Julian hadn't realized was there to strike.

“Garak, I really didn't mean to-”

Garak looked at him and Julian immediately fell quiet. It seemed like the wise choice.

“Didn't you?” Garak rose from his chair, bending over Julian, hands gripping the armrests as yet unused. “You stopped yourself for a moment, earlier. You were considering your words. Is carelessness a common trait for a doctor?”

“I had my attention on the subject we were discussing. I apologize-”

“Whatever for? Whatever for , my dear doctor?”

“For not knowing that might upset you.”

“Interesting. That you claim ignorance. That you apologize for it.”

“Garak-”

“I don't think you're ignorant at all in the matter of intimacy.”

Oh, where had that come from?

Julian inhaled. “Look, I don't-”

“Don't what, doctor?!”

They'd ended up on the floor, somehow. Julian gripped Garak’s shoulders. “Garak! Listen to me.” Julian paused, uncertain of what to say, but knowing he had to say something. Garak looked at him, wild eyed.

“I'm here because I care about you. Because I want to support you. I didn't-” Julian's eyes fell to Garak’s robe, disheveled by their arrival to the floor. He pulled the lapels closed, looking back up at Garak. “I didn't come for anything else. I didn't mean anything else, than to- comfort you.”

Garak’s eyes were deeply unnerving. Julian had had a teacher with protuberant blue eyes once- they reminded him of a frog. She knew her eyes were somewhat unnerving, and put them to good use against any student she deemed necessary. The unease now, wasn’t that Garak normally looked odd. He simply looked like he was…

Julian was very careful where he touched Garak now, cupping his elbows to pull him up and back into his chair.

He slumped on the floor next to it. “I don't want anything else.”

He heard the soft rustle of fabric behind him- probably Garak gathering himself to sit properly. He could almost hear Garak thinking. Searching for the admission of guilt. The crack in the rhetoric to poke at till it all fell apart. A weakness to use.

“I don't.” Julian said again, resting his head back against the chair. Nails scratching against upholstery. Restraining the urge to reach out and what? Violence or intimacy- or both?

Garak rested a hand over Julian’s eyes. “You couldn’t get that out of me even if you wanted it.” Garak said quietly.

Julian sighed. They were not talking about sex. “No.” Not without medical intervention and a lot of planning, anyway.

“Why didn’t you say that?” Remind him of it, to be specific.

“Because it doesn’t make me safe, Garak.” Julian got up, shaking away the hand. “I could hurt you anyway. I’m uniquely positioned to hurt you. Surely, you know it doesn't make me safe?”

Garak was gripping the seat of the chair he'd previously sat in, nails digging into the upholstery again. “Of course.”

In the heat of the moment, no. But Julian didn't need to be told- logic didn't always stay steady in the heat of the moment. It had a nasty habit of flying off somewhere and returning just in time for you to feel stupid.

Julian extended a hand, then took it back, unsure of what he'd meant to do with it in the first place. “Of course.” He echoed, quieter.

“Do you ever want to…”

“Not really.” Julian doesn’t say that it doesn’t matter what he wants, he simply can’t. Refusing is easier to understand.

“I do, sometimes.” Garak admits.

Julian almost tells him that he prefers when Garak pulls his leg in ways that he has to carefully consider before realizing he’s lying, but he doesn’t.

---

Dr. Ammshah sat instead of standing, leaving Garak higher up than her. "How are you today, Mr. Garak?"

Her arrival had gone smoothly, though Julian hadn't gotten a chance to thank Sisko or anyone in hospitality or logistics yet. He always preferred to give a two weeks heads up, but, well...

Garak had his smiling mask in place. "Quite well, thank you."

"Glad to hear it. I've already spoken with Dr. Bashir a fair amount about you. Today, if I can, I'd like to do a physical examination, with Dr. Bashir observing, and discuss your care options."

Julian watched the subtleties of their interaction, rapt. He was hardly a stranger to bedside manner, but there was an underlying current to how Dr. Ammshah spoke and handled herself. Not just her body language, which Julian knew carried a second layer of weight in Kardasi, but something else intangible. He couldn't quite tell if it was effective yet.

"Do what you must."

Dr. Ammshah inclined her head, then handed Garak an already prepared gown. "We'll give you some privacy to change, then."

---

Barkan came up behind Garak while he was washing his face. Garak forced himself to continue like normal.

"Elijje. I don't need to tell you we'll soon be withdrawing from Bajor." He curled Garak’s hair around one finger. "The Bajorans know it. They're growing more bold and more and more of them are accepting the words of terrorists."

"I'll be careful."

Barkan tightened his twisting of Garak’s hair. "I know. You always are. But, for my peace of mind… would you stay in our quarters for the next few weeks?"

Garak stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Barkan, pulling his hair out of his grasp. "Pardon? All the time?"

"It's only for a few weeks. I'd have us leave sooner, but I can't leave wrapping up the mining project to Skrain- he has enough to handle with me helping him right now."

Garak couldn't help looking around the room. "You could send me ahead…"

"No. I considered it, but there's too much going on. We've already lost three ships with Cardassians trying to leave."

"Barkan-"

"This isn't a request, Elijje." Barkan grabbed his hand, and Garak only just resisted the urge to twist their positions and break his arm. Instead he was pulled into an embrace. Barkan threaded his hand into Garak’s hair, pushing his cheek hard into Barkan’s chest. "I've already discussed it with Skrain. He agrees with me. There's a voice lock on the door and Odo has flagged the security feed on the hall outside."

Garak took in a heavy breath. He knows. He knows something- probably about the mess with Procal.

This is just a pretext.

Barkan had the gall to laugh. "Ah, look at you shake. It's alright, Elijje. Nothing bad will happen so long as we're both smart about it." He stroked Garak’s hair. "Why don't you come back to bed with me for a bit before I have to work?"

"I dont-"

"Come now, it'll help you get your mind off things."

Barkan had him from behind, pressing his face into the mattress the whole time.

He kissed the fresh bloody bite on Garak’s neck. "Don't forget to take your hypo today. Fulfill your duty to me, Elijje."

---

"Feet flat on the biobed for me, knees up."

Garak’s chest rose and fell with a heavy, silent breath, but he did as he was told. Julian squeezed his forearm before rejoining Dr. Ammshah, who was pushing the gown up.

Garaks' whole body was taught like a strung instrument. Under the gown was grey, grey, grey, then pink under Dr. Ammshah's careful gloves (green), much like Garak’s mouth. She palpated there, pointed something out to Julian here. Julian took note of it all, distracting himself from the who and taking in the what.

She had been right in her guess as to what anatomy Garak had.

Once satisfied, she pulled the gown back down past Garak’s grey knees again, and hit the button on the biobed so Garak was sitting up.

"Everything looks mostly normal so far, but I suspect you're deficient in several vitamins, so I'll have Dr. Bashir test for that."

Garak nodded, mask apparently having fallen during the exam and struggling to get back up again.

"Obviously, you want a termination. In addition to that, I can flush your spermacathe so this won't happen again, though I'll need to do it manually. We can also remove the uterus-"

"No. Thank you, Dr. Ammshah, but I would prefer…" Garak paused. "To remain whole, with all my organs."

Dr. Ammshah nodded, unsurprised. "I feel it important to remind patients of their options, even if they're unpleasant." She looked at Julian, pulling him in, and then back to Garak. "The termination and flush will take about two or three hours. How conscious would you like to be for the latter?"

"I'll have to think on it."

"That's fine. Doctor, do you have any time slots that work with his normal schedule this week?"

"A few." Julian turned to Garak. "3 days from now, at 1900?"

"That will be fine, Dr. Bashir." Garak said, eyes closed to the infirmary lighting.

---

Garak laid in bed, controlling his breathing and meditating until the buzz of the wire responding to the morning's activities was background noise.

He sat up. Barkan knew, and that meant Garak needed out.

His exit was obvious. He'd have to kill Barkan- Ideally, Dukat too, they were the main two who'd seen him and knew his real name. Others could be dealt with more subtly. He needed to send a message to the Order, but he knew it'd say just that. Eliminate Lokar. Go to this sage house. Await further instructions for extraction.

The odds of killing Lokar and Dukat were low, even under normal circumstances. With the lock and watch protocols- unless Dukat made a personal visit, Garak could forget it. The Order would have to arrange something for Dukat later.

Garak touched his cheek. This move had always been risky, because Barkan was high profile and knew his name. By the end of this he'd probably end up with a new face.

That'd have to wait for later consideration. How was he to do this?

He'd check, of course, but if Barkan suspected him, he'd have swept the room. Any obvious disruptions would be gone, and it was possible most, if not all his hiding spots had been found. None of their medicines or bath products were ready for use as a fast acting poison. The lacing from his undergarment might work- and he had his knife, but ugh. Stabbing someone to death was a very involved, and loud process.

Garak tried his comms unit. Signal error, it proclaimed.

"Replicator, red leaf tea, hot."

"That request cannot be filled at this time due to limited resources."

"I'm sure." Garak muttered. His own comms would be easy enough to fix, at least.

---

Julian hadn't expected the first case to be the only one. Kurowaat was rather contagious, after all- there'd been a case of it in his first year at the Academy. In the heart of the Federation, most were vaccinated against it- bit it still ripped through the students, causing headaches, embarrassing laundry, and for the unlucky unvaccinated few, two weeks of missed class thanks to the full effect of the virus.

In Starfleet Medical, the saying was that it came in fives- if one person had it, four more would follow.

Most on Bajor were not vaccinated. And Julian was wondering if that phrase was grossly optimistic.

Dr. Ammshah naturally volunteered to help. She primarily was the Cardassian equivalent to an Ob/Gyn, but even without her specialty being relevant, she was still a doctor. One of the senior ones in her clinic at that. Julian had her checking in on the non-Bajorans they had coming in and helping with admin- scheduling, managing the shift madness, tracking the supplies they had and their use rate.

That still left plenty for Julian, of course. Most of the patients were Bajoran.

The station infirmary was, intentionally, too small to serve all residents. If the shop next door ever went out of business, he was going to immediately request to commandeer the space and start putting in work orders.

For now, the break rooms, private rooms, and quarantine bay were just as packed as the main bay, and Julian had given all medical staff a crash course on how to bunk biobeds as painlessly as possible. The surgical bay and his office remained empty for now.

Currently they had 46 patients with kurowaat, and more coming. Julian was going to have to go through his early patients and send the alert ones who had someone they lived with home with a good supply of diozaine to ride out the last week of the illness. And instructions to hydrate and change sheets often. But it'd be a few more days before he could do that.

He sat down between seeing patients and wondered if the sheer numbers he was calculating could justify using one of the storage bays from the aphasia virus incident last year.

It wasn't really an emergency. The infirmary being too small was just that much of a problem. He had enough supplies, enough staff- he didn't expect any deaths.

[powdermelonkeg]

Would be cool to hear your opinion on the topic of dream worlds. Is Termina a dream, and if so, who's dreaming it? Are Oshus and Windfish the same or is there a whole race of world-crafting whale deities? Can the "real" world of Hyrule and neighbouring countries be classified as a dream of the Golden Goddesses?

(I understand it's too broad of a topic, so feel free to pick whatever catches your interest the most).

Hyrule's alternate dimensions are my JAM. Fair warning, this is going to go on a tangent that goes way past what you asked for.

Let me first start by saying that I think Koholint is unique in being a dream—not because the other spheres of Hyrule are far removed from it in concept, but because of the core twist that makes it a dream.

If this guy wakes up, poof! It's all gone.

What bars Termina and Hyrule from being the same is that there's no indication that you can do this. Majora does very much exist, as do the Giants of Termina, yet when they're fully conscious and active, reality doesn't collapse around them. Arguably, the moon does—there's a case to be made for this thing being a projection of Majora's consciousness (which I get into further down the line):

But Termina itself, no.

Same with Hyrule. You can meet the Golden Goddesses, albeit in a much more mortal form:

They're fully awake and, as far as we know, fully aware. In Oracle of Ages and Oracle of Seasons, they're even in danger; something that can't really happen to the Wind Fish, no matter how many Nightmares it attracts.

But what is Termina, if it's not a dream? It's certainly twisted enough to be one.

Personally, I think it's a mirror to Hyrule in the same way that Lorule is.

All three of these worlds have look-alike people, as well as their own version of Link. They have extensive histories, deities, evils to be vanquished, and so on. The key to what makes them different, though, is their point of divergence.

Let me back up a little bit.

These are all the pocket dimensions attached to Hyrule—specifically to Hyrule. The Twilight Realm is where the Twili were banished from Hyrule, the Dark Realm is where Demon Lord Malladus calls home, the Silent Realm is where Link does his trials to prove himself worthy of the Triforce, the Minish World is where the Picori of legend come from, Koholint is the aforementioned dream of the Wind Fish, who as far as we know, makes its home in Hyrulean waters, and the Sacred Realm is where the Triforce is stored.

From what Hilda tells is in A Link Between Worlds, Lorule was exactly like Hyrule in every way, up until the events prior to A Link to the Past, where the sages elected to destroy the Triforce rather than seal it away.

This is the official timeline, according to Nintendo. If the point of divergence—the split in the timeline that made Lorule what it is—falls at the war, then Lorule's timeline looks something like this:

So, subsequently, their amount of connected realms should look similar to, but not identical to, Hyrule.

I've gotten rid of the Dark Realm because, according to Nintendo, we have no idea when Malladus was sealed away. It could very well be a child timeline exclusive; Lorule might have its own child timeline (which is its own post), but the Lorule we KNOW OF either doesn't have the Dark Realm, or is so far removed from it that it doesn't know it exists.

The Twilight Realm and Silent Realm are inevitable guarantees for Lorule. The Twili were sealed away long before the split, and Lorule in theory had its own version of Skyward Sword that kicked everything off in the first place.

The Minish World is a little trickier to classify; we know it exists through the timeline leading up to Lorule, but we also have some semblance of direct confirmation through the rupees we find in the grass and pots—coincidentally, we also find those in Termina.

What makes it tricky, though, is that we don't know if it's a separate version of the Minish World. Does each parallel universe have its own parallel Picori? Do they share one? Should it look like this?

Who knows! Nintendo please give us another Minish game I'm begging you

Koholint is another strange case. We don't know that Link was essential to its creation—meaning that we don't know if Ravio was essential to its creation. Koholint may exist out there, and it may very well still be up and running to this day, the Wind Fish still dreaming. Without knowing when or why the Wind Fish fell asleep, we can't know its fate.

Back to Termina. We don't know its point of divergence; it may be so far back as to the Giants having created the world instead of the Golden Goddesses, or Majora springing up instead of Demise. So the various different pocket worlds associated with it are thus far limited to two:

We can't know if they had any dark interlopers to banish. We can't know if they had a Triforce to protect at all. Termina is a flat-out mystery as to its history and origins (though personally, I think its divergence comes in the world before Hyrule). However, I think the presence of pocket dimensions itself in Termina backs up the theory that it's a real place.

The Moon, on the other hand...

You go in it, and it has its own sky. Its own sort-of-central location.

Everything here bends to Majora's whims. He plays games. He conjures children. He makes you the most powerful mask you could possibly get.

He directly controls where and when it falls. Your whole fight against him involves cheating at that game; if you mess up, you turn back time to get a do-over with new information and new items.

This, I think, is a dream world. Majora is a lucid dreamer, forcing his fantasies to work for him. There's a reason he's only ever a mask when he's not in the moon; he has to attach himself to other people and work through their own minds, their own thoughts, to do anything to anyone else.

He has no access to his full power outside of his dreams.

Now, on the subject of the Oshus vs the Wind Fish, let's look at them side by side.

While they've got similarities—both white, both huge, both bearing godlike powers, I don't think they're the same person. The Ocean King is a lot simpler, with a more prominent melon and a larger tail fin. Meanwhile, the Wind Fish is more slender and long, with a different kind of eye and a farther extending jawline. Barring the things that are either parts of their ensemble or aspects of their magic, we're still left with two very distinct whales.

My guess is that they're two of the same species, like the four light spirits in Twilight Princess.

Similar in their origin and strength, but guarding different realms: wind and water.

[giant-tiny-fiber-friends]

Knitting in G/T

Let's get started with a classic!

(This is a continuation of a conversation that began here, for context)

I'm intending for this to be partly an informative post, as well as a conversation starter in case anyone had ideas or questions regarding the topic. As part of the g/t writing community, I know how handy it can be to have resources for niche topics, so hopefully this can help or inspire someone! I'm going to talk about knitting in existing g/t media, some of the possibilities I can think of as far as knitting for giants and tinies go, and some examples of what gives me real life g/t vibes in knitting.

Knitting, for clarity, is the art of turning yarn into fabric using a pair of needles. It seems like one of those crafts that people have plenty of ideas about with tinies, but doesn't so readily come up with giants. Maybe we'll fix that here, we'll see!

In Media

I've noticed this has mostly been explored from the tiny side of things, at least in established media. Now's the part where I admit that I do not have a comprehensive understanding and grasp of g/t media, so if there are further examples of this that exist, I'd love to hear about them! For now, the most immediate examples I can think of is The Borrowers, both in the book and one of the film adaptations.

The first is featured in one of the original covers of the original book, a colorized version of an illustration that shows Homily knitting on a pair of pins.

The text describes her as "knitt(ing) their jerseys and stockings on black headed pins, and, sometimes, on darning needles (...)" and goes on to describe her using spools of silk or cotton thread to do so. This is doable, especially since both thread and pins can vary in thicknesses, which can affect the way the fabric created behaves. One would simply need to find or make pins that were more dull, because those things can get Sharp!

Darning needles, which are slightly bigger than what you'd think of as sewing needles but still pretty thin, are a little thicker and I would think would be used with something a bit more substantial than thread. I'll get into this more in depth when I get around to talking about spinning, but yarn can be spun pretty finely, and tinies could easily be resourceful enough to manage to get it to a usable size, no matter the needles used.

As an aside, the BBC's 1992 iteration of The Borrowers quietly goes into more detail about this side of their existence. It ran for two seasons, covering most of the books up til "The Borrowers Aloft", I believe. The whole thing can bee found on YouTube, and someone recently posted an HD remaster!

Homily's knitting crops up throughout the first arc as not only a tool for keeping her family warm, but as a way for her to cope with her anxiety. She quickly picks up her knitting (from a small ball of wool she seems to have wound herself rather than from a spool, which is much more mobile) after an argument with Arrietty, and while she waits for Pod to come home from late-night borrowing.

Then, after they flee the cottage, they collect wild wool (seen above) from the brambles to use as insulation, and I believe the implication is that it's later spun into yarn for Homily to use to make Arrietty a sweater/jumper and herself a cardigan, shown in this short clip:

Seriously, if you haven't seen this adaptation, I highly recommend! Lookit Homily getting to be a bit of a badass for once!

The Potential

Knitting like this is plausible in g/t spheres, in my opinion. A lot of modern knitting has grown to lean away from separate straight needles like the pins would facsimile, choosing circular needles instead. Basically it's a few inches of solid needle attached to a flexible cord that more easily allows a knitter to work in a continuous tube (like hats), but they can be used to make flat things (like scarves) as well.

Even if an article is made of tubes- hats, sweaters, and even socks- they can still be made flat and seamed together. So if all a tiny has access to are a pair of pins, or if all a giant can do is carve and polish some wood into straight needles, it's a perfectly valid way to go about things. I'm not going to put a limit on the innovations of big or small folk to be able to come up with workarounds if they truly wanted to make a circular needle equivalent, though. Maybe a tiny could use a sturdy yet flexible bit of wire with the tips worn down to a taper, or a giant could MacGyver something with literal cabling, who knows? I'm all for hearing other ideas!

Real Life G/t Vibes

Most Vibes I get from knitting are from things made with really thick or thin yarn. Big, chunky yarn reminds me of how even the thinnest of yarn would probably still be quite lofty to a tiny. To me, it gives the feeling of having found doll's clothing and using it to keep warm!

The Harper Jacket by Ciadree via Ravelry.com

And I know it's not really useful to a hypothetical giant, but knitting tiny things does give one the feeling of being big. I'm often reminded of Althea Crome, the self-proclaimed micro-knitter who made the knits in the movie Coraline and has a whole gallery of miniature knitted art!

Mixing different weight (sizes) and colors of yarn also gives me very homemade, using what you have on hand even if it doesn't match kinda vibes, which I find fitting for both giants and tinies. They (most likely) don't have textile shops where they can get all matching bits. Or maybe they do, and that's valid, too! I'll get into more detail about that when I talk about scraps and stash eventually, but I think this post has gotten quite long enough.

If you have any more ideas or questions about this topic, and especially if you have more examples in existing g/t media that I don't know of or forgot about when writing this, please do keep the conversation going!

[bethany-sensei]

The people have spoken, and they’ve asked for art and excerpts. I need to practice drawing a lot anyway (new glasses prescription issues), so I’m going to do a whole series I think. Posting here instead of my writing blog because I don’t post art there.

Anyway, have a scruffy Akieryon in a blindfold, with bonus rough sketch of him sitting and holding his head:

This is also a fantastic excuse to try my brand new brush pen and barely-used water soluble oil pastels (whaaaaaaaaat)

Though he only fell for a second or two, Akieryon landed as though he had been launched from a trebuchet. Knee, shoulder, hip, and finally his head struck a deep furrow in damp earth. Soil burst out in all directions, in his hair, his nose, his mouth. Clods of dirt rained down as he finally tumbled and skidded to a stop, at a depth somewhat below the topsoil. Somewhere nearby, a horse screamed.

Choking and sputtering, Akieryon tried to push himself up out of his private crater. His arms buckled, and he collapsed face-first in the dirt. At least it blocked out the horrible, stabbing sunlight.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Every muscle along Akieryon’s spine tensed, and he managed to lift his head enough to gulp in a little air. “I don't know where I am.” His voice sounded thin and dry, alien with disuse. Every instinct told him to turn his head, to try to look at the stranger standing over him. But what good would it do, when the light would blur his sight and stab his brain?

“You need help.” Not a question. The stranger shifted, crouched, and Akieryon sensed rather than saw a hand extended to him. “Can you stand?”

With more effort than it should have required, Akieryon pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He took several slow breaths, steadying himself, mustering his strength. The air felt thick and charged with conflicting energies. Separate worlds compressed into one. Aftermath of cataclysm long gone. “Oh,” he blurted. “This is the Mortal Sphere.”

“Seems to be, yeah. You're in Davenz, about three leagues from the capitol.”

Hearing humor in the stranger’s voice, Akieryon dared a glance at the man who crouched nearby. He wore riding leathers—good quality, well kept, but fairly plain. He had twisted his black hair into several plaits, several days or leagues ago. He had tattoos on his cheeks, and his silvery green eyes were a little less than human but a little more than kind. When Akieryon flinched back and covered his eyes with one hand, the stranger began fumbling around in a pocket.

“Here.” Gentle fingers pulled Akieryon's hand away and rolled a layer of gauze across his eyes. “How's that?”

Balances, chapter one

[eternally--mortal]

One of my many time travel headcanons slots into the irondad—spiderson corner of the Marvel fanverse. I love Spider-Man and his stories, but I also suffer from visceral second-hand embarrassment and second-hand pain of seeing someone neglected or abandoned or alone, so most of my voluntary interactions with the Spider-Man/Marvel fan sphere come from the warm and fuzzy and emotionally rewarding sections with Tony and Peter becoming family. I know there are some arguments about how realistic that may or may not be to the movies, but I don’t really care. I love that those fan fictions and fan arts exist and I embrace them because they’re my favorite way of intaking that particular corner of media. So if you’re on that same page with me, enjoy my little private time travel headcanon:

In a Universe where Tony survives, Beck would have to curb his plans. They wouldn’t have formed the same way. For one thing, the drones and the glasses wouldn’t have been accessible through Peter / Tony’s will. For another, Peter would have been immediately more obviously tied to Tony, because Tony wouldn’t want to let him out of his sight after saving the world for Peter. In this version Tony and Pepper essentially adopt Peter and share informal joint custody with May. Peter gets to be Morgan’s older brother and he eventually sees Tony as his dad. They take their time to adjust: Peter has time to settle after the snap and find a new equilibrium, and the group of them develops a normal family routine. There’s definitely an optional version of this where Harley’s there as well because I have a soft spot for that, but this is mostly about Peter and Morgan (sorry Harley. You’re awesome, I just didn’t imagine you in the bulk of this story).

Beck’s team takes longer to get their shit together—partially as a plot device to allow Peter to adjust enough to call Tony “dad” and partially because Tony isn’t dead in this version, so their plans have to be different.

When the public figures out that Tony has a ‘son’—one that’s just as smart as he is—Beck and his crew decide not to go directly after the drones. They go for the kids instead. They figure ‘hey, if the rumors are true and the brat is just as smart as Tony, he can build whatever we want him to. If not, we can use the kids as leverage to get what we want.’ They go after Peter and Morgan and steal some of Tony’s super-secret-recently-invented time travel technology and hop around the space time continuum for a little bit. They don’t realize that Peter is Spider-Man because they’re convinced he’s Tony’s son and have fixated on that rather than on the fact that Peter might be a superhero (since Tony so obviously considers him a son they didn’t do as much digging into ‘why on earth would Tony Stark take interest in this random kid?’). But Peter doesn’t know whether he should play his hand as Spider-Man. They keep him separated from Morgan most of the time and he has to keep her safe because they’re threatening him with her. Peter doesn’t want to take the risk that he’ll escape and they’ll portal away with Morgan somewhere/when where he can’t find them.

Beck and his crew haven’t tried to reach out to Tony yet. They’re pretty confident that they can use Morgan to get whatever they want out of Peter instead. And besides that, Beck really just wants to make Tony suffer, so he figures taking his kids somewhere unreachable is the best way to do that. But he also wants to be able to watch Some version of Tony, just to remind himself of whom he’s torturing. So after hop-skip-jumping their way through the time stream, Beck takes them back in time to just after the Avengers saved the world from Loki—or some other convenient time within the span of movies. There’s some flexibility there. (The watches work for all of these trips. It’s possible that Peter and Tony revisited the tech to eliminate Pym Particles as an energy source. Maybe Beck’s team of engineers found another power source. Or maybe they just have a huge stash of particles. I don’t know. I didn’t really think about that part of the story. This is really mostly just background.)

Peter wants to lessen the risk of being more permanently separated from Morgan, he wants to make it easier for Tony to find them, AND he likes that they’re in a time period where he can reach some version of the Avengers. So he sneaks out while they’re trying to make him build something and he sabotages all of the time bracelets so they can’t be used again.

The real meat of the story comes with the back-in-time Avengers. Tony gets an odd transmission that he can’t open (because Peter sent it to JARVIS in the hopes that His version of Tony would find it and see it in the future and would know when and how to come back and get them). Then the Avengers run into the future version of Tony who shows up in the past. Younger Tony gets super suspicious, and he and the other Avengers assume that this is some super villain using a copy of the Ironman suit.

Beck’s crew may also have done something to get them on Team Cap’s radar, and Cap may be investigating some of their movements as potential remnants of Hydra or something else equally suspicious. Especially since Beck’s crew may have been too bold entering into this part of the timeline when they assumed they’d have access to an escape (before Peter broke the bracelets).

Finally the Avengers have a run-in where they see Tony’s face. Maybe they even catch him and drag him back to Avengers Tower (which of course he would know how to control / escape). He won’t tell them what’s going on because he takes one look at his younger self and sees a traumatized man with narcissistic tendencies who is Not ready to be a father. So he just tells them that Beck “stole something from me” and to “not get involved.” He plays up some of his familiar bravado and ego so they won’t dig too far into what exactly Beck might have stolen.

Meanwhile Beck is getting fed up with Peter, for obvious reasons. They’re trying to get him to fix the bracelets on Top of everything else they wanted him to do, but he keeps stalling for time. Beck keeps almost catching him recording covert videos, and before Peter has the chance to upload and send any more of them, the crew packs up and ditches the base where they were originally holding the kids. Peter and Morgan are now stuck in the past together, but Peter’s finding fewer and fewer opportunities to escape with her without revealing himself, and now that they’re in the past he’s afraid that Beck might discover his identity and go after Peter’s younger self as well before he even has the spider bite. Besides that, none of Beck’s team realizes how much food Peter needs to eat to stay functional. And when he’s difficult they do things like withhold food (which is a problem for his metabolism), withhold heat (when he can’t thermoregulate, so it’s basically like drugging him because it makes his body think it has to hibernate), actually drug him, etc. He’s hedging between causing problems to make life difficult for Beck, playing at good behavior in order to get more time with Morgan, actually practicing semi-good behavior to buy some time for Tony to come get them, and trying to formulate a better escape plan. And when Beck relocates them to an old Hydra base, Peter decides not to take any risks about showing off his spider powers.

The Avengers team breaks into Beck’s old base after the relocation. Cap is convinced that Tony made some stupid world-ending tech that’s going to get them all killed and that That is what Beck stole. That, or it’s just the time travel tech. To be fair, Tony is also pretty convinced that it’s some sort of tech, and he’s fairly invested in finding out what future-y stuff his older self is being so cagey about. They find evidence of a lab with mechanical parts (tools and pieces that they gave Peter to try and get him to build things, etc.). But Nat comes across a room with a blanket in the corner and a couple crayon drawings and does the whole “Guys, maybe we’re on the wrong trail here” bit about how maybe they don’t really know what’s been stollen. Tony gets what he can out of the computer and takes it back to the tower to decode.

A week later he’s de-encrypted the files enough to access some of the videos that Peter made and saved behind some walls of coding.

There are little snippets that show Peter stalling for time, ones that show some of the repercussions of his sabotaging the watches, etc. There are videos that show how much Beck’s team is treating him as a stupid normal kid and trying to manipulate him in a variety of ways—sometimes with Morgan, sometimes with violence or bribery.

A video where Peter wonders if he should be building something to appease them because they’re not feeding him and he needs to see Morgan, and how he wants to hold out, but Dad he’s not sure he’s going to be able to if it means Morgan might get hurt. How he promises to take care of her.

There are videos of Peter being a little shit and pulling tricks behind Beck’s back to mess with the tech.

A video of Peter looking a little better and Morgan sitting there assisting him and handing him the right tools before he can finish asking for them. They sing a little Italian at each other (in this version May taught Peter some Italian and Tony taught Morgan and Peter some as well). Morgan tells Peter “that’s not the way Daddy builds it.” And Peter has to tell her that they don’t have dad’s stuff at their disposal. (They’re sneakily building an E.M.P. instead of whatever Beck wants. That’s why Peter had to stash the thumb drive so it wasn’t hooked up to the computer system. Unfortunately Beck gets wind of it and figures out what they’re doing before they can use it. He’s noticed the Avengers sniffing around which is why they ditch their original base.) There’s definitely a moment in a video somewhere where they’re talking about Pepper (calling her ‘mom’) and how she would be able to stop Beck maybe even more easily than Tony—Peter says it as a Half-joke to make Morgan feel hopeful—and Peter says “can you do your mom impression?” And Morgan’s face transforms into this little deadpan look and she goes “No, Tony.” And they both laugh and joke about how Pepper would just tell Beck “No” and take them home. And then we see Beck storm in and discover the E.M.P. and throw it into the corner where it smashes (which is how the Avengers find it when they investigate), and we watch Morgan get dragged off screaming and Peter screaming back for her and trying to talk down Beck while Beck is pulling the whole ‘I thought letting you work with your sister would make you behave, but obviously I can’t trust the two of you together’ bit. He says shit like ‘you’re a worse brat than your dad’ and insults their whole family and says some nasty things about Tony and then about Peter and Morgan all while he’s ordering his people to shut the place down and clear out. Beck figures out that Peter’s been recording all of this after his team drags the kids out and he leaves a nasty message for Tony about how he’s going to pay, blah blah blah, how he’s never going to get his kids back. Something dramatic.

Obviously there’s some backlash in the team to Tony finding out that he’s a dad or that he’s going to be. They try to do some calculating to figure out when he’s going to have Peter (since they assume he’s a bio kid), but some of that is messed up by the fact that they don’t know about the snap or the five years that Peter lost. It’s generally chaos. They’re also a little more rushed to figure this out now that they know that there are kids involved. (They also don’t realize that Peter has powers, but it shouldn’t really matter because he’s a kid anyway.)

(At some point there would also be a conversation later when they meet up with Older Tony where someone suggests that Younger Tony just deal with Beck in the present time to avoid all of this so that Older Tony can explain how time travel doesn’t work like that and that This future version of Beck is already set the way he is, likely on a deviant path from their own Beck.)

Beck super mad that the time watches are broken and that the Avengers are on their tail. He rigs up the Hydra base and uses some of his hologram tech to manipulate the kids into thinking they’re being rescued when they’re not (either just to be an asshole or to try and get Peter to fix the watches through manipulation), or to show Peter a hologram of Morgan when she’s not in the room and vice versa to mess with them. At one point he possibly makes Peter think he’s shooting Morgan or something as a form of punishment for Peter not cooperating. There’s a large variety of evil that Beck is frankly willing to dip into to psychologically mess with these kids (and Tony by extension).

Older Tony and the Avengers end up working together to go save Peter and Morgan, which could honestly go a variety of ways. But I like the idea that Peter and Morgan are integral to the escape somehow, by building something or by Morgan remembering something important or by Peter using his smarts or his powers just a little. Younger-Tony gets handed Morgan (by another hero, against his will) at one point while Older Tony is in another room on the other side of the base trying to negotiate with Beck who’s threatening to kill Peter (something like that), and Morgan calls him Mr. Stark or Tony instead of Dad or Daddy because “You’re not my Dad yet” and makes a comment about how there isn’t enough gray in his hair. And he’s not really sure how to respond to her so they’re kind of strangers to each other.

Morgan possibly mentions something about ‘why didn’t you bring Uncle Bucky?’ and Steve just about has a heart attack, and Peter has to defuse it like ‘I don’t think they know about Uncle Bucky yet.’

Beck and his crew are taken into custody. Peter and Morgan get some time in the med bay for recovery. We get to see them interact with JARVIS (which is a little odd because they usually just have FRIDAY). The Avengers get to see Tony being a dad—even if he’s a little cagey about it around the super hero team. There are allusions to him being married to Pepper (without them directly saying it). Peter and Tony fix the time watches (without letting JARVIS see the schematics, because we can’t have an earth-conquering robot knowing how to traverse space-time), and they go home. (Either that or we involve Harley, who’s possibly been home with Pepper this whole time and did not get kidnapped because having all three kids would have driven Beck over the edge. And Harley took care of the technology from his end and ended up altering the tech to open a doorway instead of just using the watches. Not canon compliant, but I don’t know that I mind it as an option. Because, again, The Feels are more important to me for this particular story.) There’s definitely a little moment somewhere in their stay at the tower in the past with the Avengers where Peter wants to drink coffee or something and Tony tells him ‘thanks, no, I’ll take that’ and then asks Morgan to do a Mom (Pepper) impression, so Morgan turns to Peter and goes “No,” and Peter responds with “traitor” or something. I don’t know I think it would be cute.

And then there’s just the aftermath. Peter has Aunt May and MJ and Ned waiting for him when he gets back home. There’s family time with Pepper (and maybe Harley???). All those good vibes. Back in time there’s an acknowledgement of the fact that Tony is a whole-ass person who will grow and develop. Cap wants to go look for Bucky. And the seed has been planted that something is going to go wrong with JARVIS. Tony wonders if Peter’s out there somewhere and was possibly a child of one of his one night stands. Things like that.

[vauslogia]

On a wave of inspiration I made a triptych. "Fresco from a destroyed temple dedicated to the fire gods. Triptych - History of the Ancients" I went crazy trying to somehow stylize it, but it turned out weird. I applied a filter, like shooting a video.

Despite the simplicity, this is a lot of work, in my opinion. It tells about various historical events that occurred long before Xarxes. The fresco is divided into three parts.

The line depicts the battle of two renegade Atlanteans against the warriors of light. Here they are all BTS from left to right hahahaha. The blue Atlas is already known to Asteri - https://vk.com/vauslogialight?w=wall-104136510_702 and the black defiled Atlas Omad'dugavu. The little dog Ingayua stands up against them with her battle spear - https://vk.com/vauslogialight?w=wall-104136510_701 Behind her stands the Atlantean Umdli'Velanga and the senior commander of the Atlanteans, Rangatira-Marata. At the very end there is Liqueri, a white Atlas healer who supports her brothers in a difficult battle. You can read about what happened next in the articles of Brief History or in essays about the Atlanteans.

Each Atlantean has its own sun. It is not only a business card, but also an indicator of strength and skills. I have not yet written about what their symbols mean and how they can use them in battle, but I will definitely make a footnote in the article.

Kaiyu'enwu is the first Atlantean who decided to team up with dragons. He and many ancient monarchs sacrificed parts of their souls to create the Sphere of Power. I was too lazy to draw all the dragons, and they wouldn’t have fit in, so the most iconic ones, which I talked about in the article, are depicted. The monarch of Ailiganlag is closest to Kayu - https://vk.com/vauslogialight?w=wall-104136510_549 She was also the mistress of the famous Atlantean enthusiast. (A little is written about them in the article, but there will be separate essays for each of the characters. I would like to write down their love story.)

The lower part of the fresco is dedicated to the shadows, namely the three primordial ones. I wanted more, but I didn’t write enough of the others and their image had not yet developed at all ( At the center of all this action is the eldest son of Lilith-Suriadoel. This shadow is ruthless, arrogant and almost devoid of any emotions. He was the first creation and imagines himself at the head of the entire family. I don’t just depict pyramid-triangles for nothing. He and the other originals stand at the top. The main prince is shown as an all-consuming ruler. His symbol of strength is not so much the sign above his head, which has the same function as the talents, but rather the dead suns that he took from the bodies of the deceased fiery creatures. Its two wings, like huge paws, hold scarlet luminaries. Suriadoel absorbs energy from the skeleton of an Atlantean (left) and a dragon.

To his left stands the already famous Prince Zingareil https://vk.com/vauslogialight?w=wall-104136510_723 He is depicted with peacefully folded wings and a sword in his hand and reaches out to his fighting friend Ingayua. An alliance is formed between them. As I mentioned, they fought together against emerging threats. To the right of the older brother stands their younger sister Lingasadriel, who happily listens to the stranger dragon. Subsequently, it is he who will become the object of her adoration. On this basis, she will become friends with Zingareil and will even help Ingayua. Their union is far from ideal, therefore, the red dragon only points to the golden disk. It is a symbol of light or the point from which the desired life begins.

On the sides there are pyramids with shadows that serve the supreme children. By the way, there were more than three of them, but only twelve had the characteristic “masks.” From the very edges are depicted shadows that generate shadows, which in turn create weaker shadows. This cosmic scourge spread too quickly, even the elder primordials could not control the chaotically multiplying ugly creatures.

[rriavian]

I’m back with more unhinged thoughts. Now about episode 1 because there’s a specific scene in it that I’ve been obsessed with for months. Again, haven't read the comics, so this is purely based on what we've seen in the show so far. When the Corinthian goes to visit Burgess and they have their nice little ‘so you’ve kidnapped my creator’ chat (which again I could make a whole separate post on) Burgess asks 'what's the good of a god that governs dreams'.   

And the Corinthian is quick to correct him.

"Not a god." He says, then specifically adds. ‘More than a god’

And as much as I lean into descriptions of the divine in my fics (and as much as it’s still valid even if 'god' might not be the right word) there is a very clear difference here. It’s an idea I’ve toyed with in some of my wips—to be honest I’ve been thinking about it way too much—but I am just so enthralled by the question implicit in this and I have to talk about it.

What is more than a god?

It could refer to how the world of the sandman includes quite a number of different pantheons other than the Christian one, with various deities represented within it. And the Endless themselves are ranked quite highly in terms of ‘who is the most powerful being in the universe’. The line is a good way to contextualise just how powerful Dream is, both to the viewer and to Burgess, but I don’t really want to stop here so let’s dig a little deeper.

So, what is a god?

Belief. Worship. A creator to be sure but they are usually of something (god of the sea, god of music ect) but Dream isn’t really of dreams. He is dreams. More the primal power itself rather than a being with the ability to control an element. And his sphere of influence isn’t limited to humans either. His threat to the demon Squatterbloat in hell shows that, as does his threat to Lucifer. The Corinthian knows how Dream can affect other immortals, other inhuman creatures.

He's a dream to them too. And he can just as easily be a nightmare.

A personified manifestation of a concept could still be considered a definition for a god, depending on the interpretation, but gods also traditionally divine power and prestige from belief. I haven't read the comics but I believe this aligns with how the gods of the sandman universe work within it. There's also a whole point about them being stories, derived from the Dreaming, and so more than a god is literally saying they come under Dream's power.

But this touches on some of the comic lore I'm not so familiar with and my point still stands.

Gods have temples dedicated to them, demand prayers, need humanity to believe in them to maintain prominence. They interact with human power structures; religion often instructs how a believer should live, sets rules for how to best please their god, a manual for the best way to worship essentially a shortcut for how to stay in a gods good graces. They can fade away if nothing in our world grounds them, if they aren’t remembered.

But Dream doesn’t need any of that.

None of the Endless really do. They aren’t affected by it in the same way. It doesn’t matter if humanity believes in them or not. It matters that humans are human. And as long as we are human, we will dream.

Dream is more than belief.

You can also see it in how he acts. Dream dresses quite simply most of the time, blends in rather than stands out. He doesn’t care enough about other peoples assessment of what’s powerful to pander to it. He doesn’t derive power from how others perceive him and power can't be taken just because someone doesn't consider themselves under his sway. There is a whole other point I could make here about Dream's dynamics with his creations, but I'm going to leave it at how he doesn't really need them to worship him either. Dream doesn't care if you're a follower, if you're a believer, because it makes no difference to what he can do to you.

So going back to the scene. The Corinthian knows all of this, but Burgess doesn’t (honestly he doesn't even know that he was trying to summon an Endless) and I think it’s very telling that the Corinthian focuses his advice on how to keep Dream trapped.

At no point does he make a suggestion about how to get him to cooperate.

And it's because he knows that Dream won't.

To me this is the line that signifies the difference. A god is a familiar concept to Burgess, has a relationship with humanity that he can, and through all his research probably does, understand. For him this is a scientific pursuit, a cold equation to get his son back, and he thinks that logic and reasoning will allow him to use mysticism as a tool. He thinks he's taken the power out of it, has drawn back the curtain to reveal there's nothing there, has mastery over it because he doesn't hold any worship for it.

Burgess knows (or thinks he knows) what can have power over a god. He tried to summon Death on that assumption, so he must also think he knows something of how to bargain with one.

His assessment is flawed, though Burgess doesn't realise it, and even after the conversation with the Corinthian he continues treating Dream as a god. He does it even as he shows no respect for him at all, no deference, no basic decency, because he thinks that's how to prove he isn't beholden to him. Burgess thinks that because he’s taken Dream’s tools he’s taken his power, that because he has him trapped he has a hold over him, has leverage.

Burgess thinks he knows what Dream is.

The Corinthian is trying to tell him he doesn’t know shit.

[toacollabevent]

Burning Shrouds

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Chiron, Apollo, Will, Hyacinthus

It’s the first time in mortal memory that Apollo’s attended a shroud burning ceremony at Camp Half-Blood.

My (@tsarinatorment​‘s) contribution for TOA Collab Event 2022!  My match was @nyaningthroughlife and I chose the second piece of art in this post as my inspiration!  It’s definitely not my usual topic, and this is my first time writing Chiron pov (or much of Chiron at all, honestly), so I hope it all worked okay.

It’s a small surprise when Apollo arrives at camp that evening.  Not because Apollo doesn’t like dropping by camp, because Chiron is well aware that the god in question adores camp and everyone in it (even Dionysus, as much as the two gods present a stilted, separated front to the world).  The surprise is that he chose to come tonight, of all nights.

As much as Apollo flits around on the edges of camp, peering down from his chariot if he can’t be there in person, he always, always, keeps his distance when it’s time to burn shrouds.  The closest he’s come in mortal memory was in the aftermath of the Battle of Manhattan, but even then he remained near the Big House and his new oracle rather than near the pyres.

Apollo respects death and the mortal inevitability but there are some wounds that are a little too open, a little too raw, and burning shrouds – regardless of whether or not they’re empty – are a wound Chiron has noticed Apollo does his best not to poke at.  Funerals, eulogies and acts of mourning are all a familiarity to the god, but the shroud in particular, he evades.

Not that he’d ever admit as such out loud.  Apollo keeps certain things close to his chest; closer, often, than even Chiron with his millennia-long relationship with him, can catch even a glimpse of, but this is one that’s spilled over just enough, over the thousands of years, for Chiron to put two and two together and be reasonably sure he’s getting four, or something near enough to count.

It doesn’t help that most shroud-burnings happen at the same time of year.  Not the same, exact date, but then the calendar has changed a few times in Camp Half-Blood’s lifetime and only the immortals recall the passage of time prior to the Gregorian within this Western dominated sphere of influence.  Even Chiron doesn’t know, precisely, the date within this span of time that particularly stings at Apollo, but he knows it’s there somewhere, and really, that’s all he needs to know.

Hyacinthus was not Apollo’s first, last or only love – far from any of them – but he was an intense one, whose passing left unusually deep marks of grief on the god.  Apollo has a reasonable handle on grief – he feels it, but he endures it and keeps going, keeps living for all those whose time came to an end – but there are a few mortals who get around his guard.

That might, Chiron suspects as he watches Apollo slip quietly into the throng of demigods around the fire, have some relevance to his unusual appearance now.  The shrouds they’re burning tonight are empty – marks of a successful quest, where the number of questers that came back alive was no less than the number that left – but one of them was sewn for one of Apollo’s own children.

This is the first time in years that a golden shroud has been burned at camp without a dead child to go with it.  It could so, so easily have gone differently.  By all rights, it should have done.  The Pit is not a place for mortals to venture, let alone survive and escape again, and the Primordial in question is no doubt furious beyond belief at yet another duo of demigods escaping his clutches, narrow though that escape had been.

Will is still a bundle of bandages and barely strong enough to get anywhere under his own power.  Nico is not quite as terribly off, physically, and he’s been scaring off anyone except the most stubborn of Apollo’s children whenever anyone else tries to assist Will even though he’s hardly in the state to act as a living walking stick either, but Chiron knows the mental wounds run deep.

Apollo has been floating around camp more often than not during their recovery, and they still have a long way to go but the shrouds need to be burned as soon as possible and they’re finally fit enough for the ceremony.  It doesn’t escape Chiron’s notice that Apollo has wormed his way into the heart of the throng of Cabin Seven Plus Nico and is sitting with his arm wrapped tightly around Will’s shoulders.  It’s a human need, Chiron thinks, to face the what-if of losing someone and cling to them all the tighter in reassurance that they’re still there.

Most gods would be incredibly offended at the word “human” being used to describe anything that they do, but Apollo’s not one of them.  Chiron still refrains from vocalising the thought, because other listening ears might have objections to it.

Other gods having issues with who and how Apollo loves has created tragedies.  Chiron is not eager to invite another.

He does not know all the details of the loss of Hyacinthus.  Likely, he never will.  Whether Apollo attended his funeral, if he was burned in a shroud and if so how it was decorated… those are details Chiron has not been made privy to.

He suspects, of course.  That Apollo was there, that the shroud was as beautiful as the man it embraced, that it stole a part of the god forever when it burned away to ashes.  It’s harder to believe that those suspicions might not be true, knowing Apollo as he does.

But Chiron doesn’t ask.

He celebrates with the campers as the golden and black shrouds go up in flames, devoid of any accompanying tragedy, and watches as Apollo tries to hand the floor to his children for the traditional songs only for Will to look at his father until he caves and sings for them.

Properly sings, which clearly surprises the campers who have heard tales of Apollo’s modern interest in less traditionally beautiful pieces and were preparing to grin and bear whatever he chose to come out with.

Another night, he might have done, but tonight, with the echoes of lost love and the reminder that more loss will come in time, as it always does, Apollo’s mind is clearly in one place, and one place only.  The song is not a sad one; on the surface, it sounds triumphant and jubilant.  There’s melancholy in the words, however, and a underlying reminder of what it means to be mortal.

It’s grief and celebration and life and death all mixed in together, and Chiron suspects he’s not the only one to hear that and more, but no-one acknowledges it out loud, not even when Apollo finishes his impromptu set and insists that it’s his children’s turn to shine, now.

Austin and Alice in particular need no more prompting, and soon Jerry is the only Apollo child left at Will’s side while the others pile onto the stage to continue leading the celebrations.

No longer the centre of attention, save for Chiron’s own musings, Apollo falls silent and unobtrusive.  More than once, his eyes drift to where the embers still cling to the ashes of the shroud, and the weight of four thousand and some years don’t quite stay hidden.

There is nothing Chiron can or should do for the god and his millennia-old scars, so he turns his attention elsewhere and lets Apollo have his privacy.

[abybweisse]

Hello! What do you think of the theory that these four facilities are not the only source of blood for R!Ciel? We are well aware of how good UT is at keeping things secret, so these barely hidden facilities seem very suspicious. I am sure that the time of the appearance of R!Ciel is not coincidental, but rather precisely calculated by UT. It would fit very well into the chess game the twins are playing: R!Ciel makes the first move to kick his brother out of the manor, O!Ciel destroys the vital blood resources, R!Ciel reveals that they are not the only ones, which prompts O!Ciel to come up with a new plan. Given his and UT's composure and nonchalance about the first object being destroyed, it's hard to believe that this sentiment is based solely on arrogance, which is definitely not UT's trait. If I am not mistaken, R!Ciel can take any blood type, which makes all the fuss about Sirius blood even more hilarious. Imagine O!Ciel's face upon learning that those voyages were all for nothing. Also, assuming that the ultimate goal of UT is to save O!Ciel's soul from being consumed by Sebastian, it makes perfect sense to separate the servants from their young master and his demon. Looking forward to the Brighton Arc!

More, secretive facilities?

It's possible, I suppose, but I don't think that's happening. If there are other facilities providing blood, then the quantities they send are probably not nearly enough to sustain the demand. And, once Undertaker and real Ciel are defeated, those facilities would eventually stop collecting.

But I think these are the main four facilities, now that Sphere Music Hall has been shut down and the Bath resort was kept from being put to full use.

Instead of Undertaker and real Ciel making these facilities obvious, I think they believe they covered their activities well. Spaced out across the country and not connected in any way that most people would immediately realize. Sebastian is a demon, but he still had to do research to figure out what little he knows about each facility.

Besides, my big Mother3 theory helps explain it this way: the player has to be able to figure out where to go, what to do, who's the adversary, etc. within a somewhat reasonable timeframe. Actually winning might be difficult, but figuring out how to even play the game shouldn't be. The twins might compare their moves to playing chess, but what they are doing is very much like a rhythm game... like Mother3.

Arrogance might not be Undertaker's trait, but I think it is very much a trait of real Ciel, and he's largely calling the shots now... even when Undertaker seems less-than-keen about some of the decisions.

Idk whether real Ciel knows he can accept any whole blood donation (ignoring Rh factor). But, if he does know, then he's likely being too elitist to use anything but his own blood type. I mean we already know he's putting a premium on the rarer blood types. Even Blavat makes that apparent with how the four stars are ranked. This is one of the reasons I suspect that the Viscount of Druitt is involved in the blood typing and transfusion process. He's exactly the sort who would believe some blood types are superior to others.

Remember how Undertaker got a huge laugh out of Stoker believing they were truly using medical science to revive the dead? And then he completely deflates Stoker's ego by saying they were no longer relying on science once they asked for a reaper's assistance? Undertaker's techniques aren't medical. At least they weren't then.

Now, what's going on is partly medical. But I imagine a scene where Druitt (or someone else with a medical background who is helping instead) makes claims about how blood typing works and how real Ciel is special for only being able to accept the rarest blood type... then Undertaker bursts out laughing, explaining that isn't true, and how amusing it's been to watch the Aurora Society struggle to attain "Sirius" blood when any human blood would have sufficed.

The other possibility is that Undertaker also doesn't know how blood types really work, and when someone finally explains it to him -- like Sieglinde -- he gets a huge kick out of the futility of all their efforts until then. His included.

Now, it is a good strategy to get the enemy to split up, with the idea they will be weakened and easier to defeat. However, real Ciel's side is also split up. Heathfield's facility was crushed, and Polaris could only see it for himself and report back. Layla/Al was exposed to the reapers, and she might be at reaper HQ by now, getting her head examined by Othello, for all we know. Doll is struggling and might be defeated by Snake and Finny soon. That leaves real Ciel and those he's keeping closest, like Undertaker and Polaris. But even Polaris isn't always there with his master. Tanaka is around, but his loyalty is still questionable; I'm sure he's not actually comfortable serving the bizarre doll of real Ciel. There must be someone else who is helping with the medical side of things, like Druitt (or a bizarre doll of Stoker or of the circus doc), but is that person of any other use? Anyway, both sides are largely split up and fighting at multiple fronts.

[kpdeek]

Okay @luckydragon10, I'm gonna take up your challenge and try my hand at interpreting some LOP. *gulp*

Because I'm a coward, I just chose one scene (I'd rather be wrong about 1 than all 😅), and it's this one right here:

I'm not gonna rehash the two characters' issues and how their lives are changing, because we already recognize that these two people are stepping out of the little bubbles they've lived in (and in Kim's case, created for himself). Yet, they're shrouded in both dark and bright light (I know those aren't lines, bear with me. It's proving hard to be concise 🥲 *sweatingnervously*). Kim is now halfway between his dark world (the one he comes from & the one he's created), and Chay's bright, innocent one. Whereas Chay is doing the opposite (halfway bet. his innocent, naive, bright world and into Kim and Porsche's dark one). Despite Kim's attempts to distance Chay from this darkness, it's too late now. They've met, and now they're in this shit. Can't kick one back into the darkness and the other into the light. And in both frame they're directly centered; the beam behind Kim separates the darkness & lightness, and the edge of the wall behind Chay does that for him, too.

The wall behind Chay has lines that move horizontally, as do the shelves behind Kim. And they seem to either be flowing towards each other, or stemming around the characters (depending on if you're focusing on the foreground or background). These lines are connected to each other (all roads they take willead them to each other now), and in the second frame they cage both characters; again, they're in this good/evil world together now.

But also, in the second frame Kim is completely shadowed by darkness. I interpret this is as Kim having more darkness to him than Chay no matter the position he's in (in Chay's "good" sphere, or his own "bad" sphere).

This turned into lines and lighting analysis, but I feel like they go hand in hand in this scenario.

I also think there might be something to say about how there's also vertical lines going thru the horizontal for both, but I'd really be reaching in assigning that any meaning, so I'll stop here, lol!!!

Welp! I hope I did this some justice 😆

[symptoms-syndrome]

7, 17, 25, 28

7 answered 💚

17. If you could tell someone questioning whether they have DID/OSDD one thing, what would it be?

This is gonna sound dismissive, but like. Don't worry about it man.

Either you do or you don't but thinking about it too hard isn't gonna change anything, and I think that worrying about it too hard might make you fixate on things. Like, you'll be looking for evidence for or against and you're gonna find ways to fit all sorts of irrelevant stuff into either category. Had a hot dog yesterday and liked it, but today you think it tastes a little weird? Put it in the "maybe a part thing" bucket. Remember what you had for lunch last week? Put it in the "don't have it" bucket. That kind of thing, it'll just trip you up.

Like. Think about why you think you might, sure. But rather than "do I have [thing]" in general I think it's best to ask like. Why is it bothering you? Are there things you can do for that?

Like. I've got shit memory right. I had shit memory before I got my diagnosis and I've still got it. So I use a calendar on my phone, as soon as I hear about anything that I want to go to or need to do, I put it right in there so I don't forget about it. What if I woke up tomorrow and my therapist called and was like "JK man, u just have ADHD." My calendar wouldn't like. Explode. It would still be helpful n everything. And that applies to like a lottt of coping skills and strats and stuff. Most stuff that happens with DID happens with other stuff too, sometimes in diff ways but like. A lot of the time the coping skills are the same. DID doesn't exist in a weird little mental illness fortified palace separate from everything else like some people act like it does.

25. What is a piece of misinformation about DID/OSDD do you want to clear up?

I already answered this one but I'm answering it again bc I have a diff lil piece of misinfo.

If you have DID/OSDD, you don't have to be plural.

Not in the sense of you don't have parts. But in the sense that you don't necessarily need to treat your parts/system the same way others may treat theirs. You don't need to "come out" about it, or communicate to other people who's fronting, or drastically change your lifestyle.

I think that this is part of what makes people so weird about DID/OSDD, the idea that it gives you permission to live a Plural Lifestyle because DID/OSDD is associated with automatically enrolling you in the Plural Lifestyle.

There's nothing inherently wrong with not being open about having a deeply stigmatized disorder. You don't need to "fight stigma" or "be visible" and it's not like being in the closet about being gay or trans (though you don't need to come out about either of those either, but that's a different topic.) You aren't betraying your community or a victim of internalized ableism or anything like that for not wanting to be open about your DID and/or not wanting to communicate to others about your parts. Doubly so for things like work or school.

Being open about it/telling people about it also doesn't have to be a black and white thing. You can tell some people but not others. You can be open about parts fronting some times or places but not others. You can tell some people some things but not everything. That's all fine. I have like two friends (outside of my DID-sphere) who know about some of my parts by name, about a dozen who just know I have DID with no further details. And that's fine with me. Even the friends who know some parts by name I don't tell who's fronting all the time.

I think some people think you need to be super consistent across the board or you're "not being true to yourself" or "hiding parts of you" or "ashamed of your identity" or something. Which is not true.

Also conversely, I think that similarly to what I said the last time about misinfo, if seeing yourself in parts helps you somehow I think that's fine. Or if you have an imaginary friend or daydream or whatever else. Embrace non-normativity even if it isn't disordered.

28. Have you met other people with DID/OSDD irl/online? What was it like?

IRL once I went to a conference to give a talk about racism and DID and it was a real mixed bag. It felt like everyone there was either 20s or 40+. I felt more at home with the 40+ crowd because the 20s crowd was very? Plural in a way that I am not and don't feel comfortable being. One of them loudly announced that everyone at the table was plural in like a Starbucks and that made me feel like I was going to die. The older folks were incredible though, very kind and it was nice chatting about our experiences and what things we had in common or didn't.

Also once at a different conference (also about race, but this time about race and disability) I met someone (a like, ~50 year old Asian lady) who shared that she had OSDD in a private moment and I shared that I had DID. It was interesting to talk to her as well.

Plus some various. Weird experiences with other people. Including someone who said I was pluralphobic for not letting them join a group for POC when they are white w an alter that looks Asian. LMAO.

I'm also...vaguely aware of some people in my area who keep being very weird about hosting events for plurals. Which. Whatever do your thing I guess. Just not for me and not when they're being weird about it.

Online. 95% negative experiences but 5% positive! When I was first diagnosed I tried finding online groups but they all sucked TBH, full of drama and teenagers and weird expectations on how I should behave and how much I need to share/know. It made me feel overwhelmed and confused because I didn't fit in. But now I've found my little group of people who I feel like I vibe with and who understand each other.

Also there's like. A few weird experiences I've had on dating apps of all places.

[hell-heron]

Rambling about my fic and literary hardships under the cut

I think the thing that gives me the most secondhand embarrasment on rereading/finding new comments for ikmka is the way I handled the ensemble/background/random ironborn OCs part of the cast, there's just too many for the lenght, a lot of episodes are bizarre/pointless/just there to separate more important scenes etc, was it really needed to have three separate fosterlings of Alannys and three separate Botleys as speaking characters etc can't believe someone Is reading this dreck right now...

Part of it is I've always been someone who enjoys coming up with family trees and pointless headcanons and then can't let go of them lmao since I was 13 it was a problem and you can see it in even short fics (red moonlight, three boys etc not to mention the entirety of my Romeo and Juliet production). Like for example the worst offender (besides the Victarion thing where I was biased and wanted to include the oaf because I love him) is definitely the little trip to Iron Holt where I was attached to the little connection I came up with for Aladale Wynch (why is an ironborn knight at the Wall? backstory) and also to Calla Orkwood/Wynch a true 13 year old girl OC produced entirely by my heart and ass. And then after I came up with that I felt the need to continue on that thoroughline so it would be a feature of the fic and not one random extraneous episode.

On the other hand I really do think this fic needed the reader feel as violently dunked as Theon was in this social whirlwind, thematically, it's important to show/don't/tell that Theon is experiencing this kind of sudden and jerky reintegration to this culture, all these new opportunities for healthy peer relationships, mentor relationships, mentee relationships that should more than make up for losing one younger friend but don't, all these responsibilities and social obligations as a young lordling that should make him feel justified in coming back but don't, all this praise and acceptance for his actions which should make him feel better but don't, all this exposure to the consequences of the Greyjoy rebellion that should make him feel righteous about wronging the Starks in return but don't. Its stuff a more skilled writer could definitely have conveyed in tighter fewer scenes but I personally enjoy the confusing whirlwind approach!

(I also wasn't the best I fear at making this return different enough from canon- It felt like there were a lot more new meetings that should have been reunions, now its three years and not ten. But that also makes partial sense to me - he missed three years of passage from childhood to adolescence and now his world has opened abruptly beyond the confines of the Island of Pyke rather than gradually)

Overall though this reminds me of a musing I periodically have, which is that the novel/short story form is just... Bad at conveying the social sphere of extroverted characters or very connected characters (which I wanted Theon to be, Theon is very extroverted imho). You constantly see this criticism with characters who are characterised as popular but have three besties or unintentionally come across as being detached from everyone. GRRM, definitely one of the authors who should not be encouraged to add more characters and background details, constantly gets comments on how his court settings feel empty or how his characters who you wouldn't expect to be loners only have one friend outside of family. In 2021 my sister was having one of those downswings in social situation you have when you're out of sync with your former group in how fast you're going thru puberty and I was researching middle grade books that had less emphasis on rigidly insular groups and codependent bestie bonds and more on relationships developing organically and situationally and there wasn't really anything besides Anastasia Krupnik and thats a serial

(Ikmka is def a middle grade novel among other genres tbh)

Or like recently I've been struck by how well Ljudmila Petrushevskaja does it in short stories but she definitely also does it by confusing whirlwind technique; also Emma and Persuasion are good examples to me but not exactly everything that Austen writes is. Its just this very delicate balance of lots of people all of whom are known and some kind of relationship exists with and who are loosely arranged in groups but you don't get the feeling every single person has an ironclad thematic reason to know the protagonist, you know. Its a really hard realism/thematic coherence balance to strike and I can never describe it until I see it