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rallamajoop · 9 months

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Moreau's secret romantic movie fixation

Most of what you’ll find online searching for cut content from RE8 really isn’t ‘cut content’ so much as ‘rejected ideas that never made it past the concept stage.’ Early plans like having Ada Wong swanning around the village in a plague mask or that Miranda would be a foreign researcher probably never got near the finished game. You can find tons of rejected early concepts like this in the extra concept art that comes with the RE7 DLC pack (or online, for all those who’d rather not shell out that much extra money for a few extra gallery files).

But there is at least one detail from that early concept art that I’m confident did make it almost all the way into the finished game, and it’s that little tidbit about Moreau’s love of sappy romantic movies.

The biggest single piece of evidence I can cite you for this is that you can still find an unused asset for a film poster that was meant to appear in Moreau’s room.

This was to be a collectable treasure item, like Dimitrescu’s lipstick and wine glass. There’s even a description for it ("Poster for an old movie Moreau liked. It's too damaged to read.") which feels pretty significant. There are plenty of other unused treasure item assets in that same folder (I’ll probably get to posting about them later), but the film poster is the only one I could find a description for – complete with translations into all the many different languages supported by the game. I’m guessing that means this one got really close to the final cut.

But the best part? If you look closely at that poster, you might just be able to make out the title. And if you google that title, it turns out this little game asset is based on a real poster for a real movie.

(Yes, that tagline really does read, "When Tragedy Struck, Love Came to the Rescue.")

I haven’t seen Ice Castles myself, but if the Wikipedia summary is to be believed, it’s a 1978 American romantic drama about a young figure skater who loses (most of) her sight in a tragic accident. With the help of her boyfriend, she eventually comes to accept that, because she can still see just well enough to make out the bounds of the rink, she can still work past her disability to realise her dreams. I don’t need to spell out why a film like Ice Castles might particularly appeal to someone like Moreau, do I? Poor guy.

The poster isn’t the only reason I’m convinced secret-romantic-Moreau made it almost to production. Let’s go back to that concept picture again, where Moreau is eating cheese while watching old romantic movies on his TV screen.

Well, the movie may not have made it in, but TV did. So did the cheese.

More importantly, consider the scene where Ethan sneaks up behind Moreau to find the Rose flask unattended. Moreau himself is looking away, apparently focused on his TV screen, though it shows only static. And then he vomits dramatically, and utters the words “Oh Mother Miranda, if it’s for you, I’d do anything.”

I mean, it’s obvious what was meant to be going on here, right? Moreau’s watching a film as Ethan walks in, and sighing at some torridly romantic scene. There’s probably just been some hero or heroine earnestly utter some similar dialog like, “Oh [insert name here], I’d do anything for you!” All the pieces are there except the film itself!

(Do we need to take a moment here to acknowledge the, er, Oedipal implications of Moreau comparing his devotion to Miranda to a presumably-romantic scene? Because... well, it can be easy to overstate that sort of thing, but I don't think it's a stretch to suggest Moreau really would do anything for Mother Miranda.)

So why didn’t the movie make the cut? Why are we left with Moreau watching only static from his poster-less room?

I can only speculate, but a few possible answers come to mind. Maybe the team worried that making Moreau a closet romantic would render their revolting fish-man a little too sympathetic, or a little too comical. Maybe they had trouble finding a film clip that worked for that scene without leaving Ethan awkwardly watching a movie over Moreau’s shoulder for longer than really worked. Maybe test audiences were so distracted by the film going on the background that they missed what was going on in the foreground with the Rose jar. Maybe there were licensing issues around including that Ice Castles poster, or whatever film footage they wanted to show (which I feel obligated to point out may have been some other film altogether). These kinds of snags get in the way of productions all the time. C’est la vie.

The scene still works without the movie playing. But it’s hard to miss what was supposed to be going on.

Still, while I’m talking Moreau, and Moreau’s TV, have a little bonus speculation about Moreau’s relationship with the guy who presumably installed that TV for him: Heisenberg.

It seems to be pretty popular out there in RE8-fanon land to cast Heisenberg as actually-very-fond of Donna, or the Dimitrescu daughters, etc etc – and that irks me a bit, because I’ve yet to see any take on it that feels in-character for anyone involved. Even putting aside Donna’s own issues and the whole Dimitrescu connection, Heisenberg’s seething contempt for the rest of his ‘family’ is not exactly ambiguous. But even with all that said, there are few intriguing hints that good ol’ Karl might just have the teeniest little soft spot for his ‘moronic freak’ of a brother, Moreau.

The big one is that tidbit from Moreau’s diary that I already touched on in my post on the four lords, where Heisenberg apparently comforts him about his place in the family:

Mother Miranda gave me a Rose jar. No one likes me which is why I thought they would leave me out again. But Heisenberg said that was why we each get a Rose. The ceremony cannot happen without us all there.

Now, you can debate how ‘comforting’ this would have come out in practice. Knowing Heisenberg, whatever he said may have been more of a sneering dig at Moreau's intelligence than real reassurance – but even so, just reminding Moreau that he's an essential part of the plan pretty could qualify as an uncharacteristically kind gesture (and perhaps only more so if Heisenberg knew even then that it was a comforting lie).

When I say Heisenberg ‘presumably’ installed Moreau’s TV, I do mean presumably. At the end of the day, there’s a TV screen in Moreau’s quarters that Heisenberg can hijack to spy on or talk to Ethan for the same reason there’s one in some back room behind a stronghold full of lycans: the plot requires it to be there, and it’s easier to use the same asset twice. But it’s no fun sticking to rigidly Doylist analysis, so what could be the story behind it? Have some possibilities:

Moreau got hold of the TV himself, but Heisenberg snuck in at some point and modified it so he can use it to spy on his ‘brother’, without Moreau’s knowledge.

Heisenberg installed or repaired the TV for Moreau under the guise of letting him watch films on it, but secretly also uses it as a monitoring device.

Moreau is fully aware the TV can be used for remote communication and chats to Heisenberg through it regularly. Given that his film obsession didn’t make it into the finished game, maybe that’s all he thinks it does. Maybe he was even just talking to Heisenberg before Ethan walks in.

Though that first option is a workable interpretation, you could also question what Heisenberg imagined he’d ever see Moreau doing that was worth spying on. Our other obvious options are that Moreau thinks Heisenberg installed that TV for the primary purpose of enabling his 900th rewatch of The Shape of Water (oh come on, you know he loves that film), or that it’s so they can talk without leaving home. Heisenberg’s still a creep for rigging it to spy on him, but there’s another surprisingly thoughtful gesture buried in there somewhere.

There’s one last barely-qualifying little detail that intrigues me, and that’s that both Moreau and Heisenberg seem to have similar ideas about Miranda’s plans for Ethan. Heisenberg states outright that he believes Miranda is testing Ethan, to see if he’s worthy of joining her family. And Moreau bemoans that ‘It’s not fair, I should be with her, not you!’

Neither Dimitrescu or Angie echo any similar ideas, and nor does anything Miranda actually says to Ethan suggest Heisenberg has the right idea (like so much in this mad fairy tale, the vibes are much stronger than the internal consistency). But if Moreau has the same idea as Heisenberg, despite being so generally clueless about the Rose jars and Miranda’s intent, it’s natural to suppose it’s Heisenberg he got it from. So we’ve got another possible hint that Heisenberg’s closer to Moreau than his other siblings.

To be clear, none of this means Heisenberg has ever been nice to Moreau. He dismisses Moreau as a moronic freak, and seems unbothered by Moreau’s death. Moreau’s diary makes clear that no-one in the family is nice to him, or generally ‘includes him’ in things (though it’s hard to imagine they much include each other either). Even hinting to Moreau about Miranda’s plans could well have been a means to goad him into conflict with Ethan. I doubt Heisenberg would have had much interest in sitting down to watch Moreau’s favourite movies with him either.

But it’s not hard to imagine Heisenberg basically viewing Moreau something of an annoying, stupid, snot-nosed little brother – pitiable, but not too pathetic to inspire the odd gem of real sympathy or uncharacteristic kindness. Heisenberg’s obviously spent years telling himself that only the strong survive, that those ignorant villagers deserve their lot, that he can’t afford weakness, but it’s tempting to think that maybe giving Moreau that TV wasn’t a completely cynical gesture. After all, doesn’t every Frankenstein-wannabe need an Igor?

To finish, have some more extracted assets of Moreau-related pics from Miranda's laboratory. I just love the style and detail that went into these.

#Salvatore Moreau #Karl Heisenberg #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #cut content #unused assets

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ceo-of-kimona · 3 months

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What to do with Scott…

A question that many many Kimona enjoyers face in our time is thus: “where the hell do we put Scott Pilgrim?”

The guy is a weird case. He’s the main character, the damn series was named after him, he’s integral to the life and stories of both of these women. Although; he is also a massive cockblock (or vag block?? Idk) and must be obliterated in order for the two to be happy. So, to prevent Kimona fic writers (also known as the greatest and most noble heroes of our time) from needing to contend with this great query again, I shall compile a list of potential things you could do with Scott to get him the hell out of the way. In no particular order.

1. Break Scott and Ramona up

Probably the most direct and simple answer, especially if you’re going for a more cannon compliant, post cannon universe. Though it does kinda invalidate all of the shit they got through to get together if they just split up like that. So I suggest that if you do break them up, make it on good terms. Make it so that it’s mutual and mutually beneficial and mature. Less of a “I hate you and I never want to see you again” and more of a “it was fun, you helped me a lot, but now we gotta go our separate ways in life.” Their development shouldn’t be rendered moot by the breakup, instead make the breakup part of their development.

2. Create an AU where Scott does not exist

A fairly easy one, if Scott doesn’t exist, you can just go along your merry way with your shipping. Fics where Kim finds Ramona before Scott or fics where Scott doesn’t ever fall in love with Ramona for whatever reason also fall under this category. These are good, but a bit bland. There isn’t a great lot you can tell here cause Scott’s douchery kinda holds together the plot pretty much. It is only by him being a rat-ass fuckboy that anyone ever meets anyone in the comics. Also, without having her relationship with Scott, Ramona just doesn’t have her vital character arc that the relationship brings. She’s always gonna be the same ol Flowers when she comes to Kim.

So unless you plan on retelling the entire story of the… everything with Kim instead of Scott, you’ve gotta very flighty and traumatized Ramona Flowers on your hands for the entire fic. Now, this is perfect for angst fics, as using pre-arc flaws to create a tragedy has been a a tool for angst fics since god damn Shakespeare. Also fluff doesn’t really need the “primest character development” in order to be good, so if you’re planning to either make angst or simple fluff then AU is your best bet. If you wanna make something more cannon compliant or lighthearted yet complicated, you’re out of luck.

3. Polycule

Self explanatory. Why not have both? Keep Scott and Ramona’s cute dynamic; and just bring Kim into the mix. While this can be very fun (I’m actually writing a fic where this happens at the moment) it isn’t great for every fic. Cause let’s face it: if you’re here and queer for Kimona, so maybe you do not want to write for the feelings of the dude who got here first so he’s also tagging along. Some people just don’t wanna write Scott, which is perfectly valid. Also, polycules are messy and complicated, both in real life and in fic writing. While complications can create some good drama, it’s also a lot of moving parts to manage. You aren’t getting a Kimona + Pilgrim fic down to 2k words without sacrificing a lot. This one is not built for oneshots or general Pilgrim-haters.

4. Send him off to be with Wallace

Probably one of my favorite options to use. It’s kinda an extension of the “breakup” idea, but it gives a happier ending for Scott, as it lets the breakup make sense. Scott falls in love with Wallace and can’t bear the pining so he communicates with Ramona about it, and they mutually agree that it’s for the better for them to split so he can be with Wells. It also will keep the Scollace shippers at bay, may their apocalyptic wrath be kept at bay /s.

If you don’t really have much stuff outside of Kimona in your fic and don’t know how to get Scott out of the picture, try this one. Just throw in a sentence about Scott being with Wallace and everything will make sense and be chill. Truly an option for us lazy bitches out there who just want yuri. It can also potentially set up some Scollace content later down in the fic if it comes to be of a larger scale, but if you just want your yuri you can throw out a “Scott is with Wallace” line and not need to elaborate further, we get it. All around a flexible, powerful, potent, and fun option. Though if you have any Wallace pairings already set up in your fic and you can’t fit Scollace in, this option obviously won’t be that useful to you.

So…

That’s all of the “bye bye Scott pilgrim” tropes for Kimona fics that I could think of. Now for which one is the best… prepare yourself, the answer is disappointing.

None of them!

No one of these is always gonna work for everything. These tropes are all just tools in your toolbox at the end of the day, and which one you use is up to what you’re writing and how you’re feeling. So don’t be afraid to try multiple of these for your fics, throw shit against the wall like spaghetti. Maybe you’ll find something new that you’ll like.

But that’s enough yapping from me. Now go forth and WRITE!

#also you can hit her with the transgenderification beam but I don’t know how that would help things #it would make them more funny though! so worth concideration #kim pine #ramona flowers #scott pilgrim #pineflowers #kimona #ramkim #scott pilgrim vs the world #rant post #fic writing

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elis-corner · 2 years

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hi hi! i havent requested before but here goes- i was wondering if you could do a hermitcraft x reader where the reader is just entirely stupid, and just kinda climbs anything and everything. i was hoping they might be a bit younger and their relationship to the hermits is almost a parent/guardian figure thing? thank you!

p.s. could i be snail anon? 🐌🐌

Hey there 🐌! I apologise for the wait, been a bit rough the last few months. I love this idea, and it literally instantly put a cartoony image of some tired hermit with the reader just flung over their shoulder, maybe trying to test how edible their clothing is... Hermits parenting? Absolutely. I could go on and on about Dadsuma. It turned a bit more into a mischievous/childish reader, and climbing became being reckless, but I’ve tried my best. Kids aren’t exactly my strong suit. And I had to break down “Hermitcraft” to specifically a group with an easy dynamic, so I went with Mumbo, Scar, and Grian. Hope that’s alright!

Alright, enough stalling, here it is!

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

What Goes Around Comes Around

‘Come on!’ you yell, sprinting ahead of the trio of chaos behind you. You can feel bits of fragile endstone splintering off as your shoes slam against it, sending the fragments tumbling, on occasion floating for a moment before remembering their need to fall.

‘How do you run that fast?’ Mumbo stared at you as your form slowly shrunk on the horizon. ‘The gravity in the End is not normal, and yet you treat it like nothing! And for goodness sake, hold a Totem, y/n.’

‘Because it isn’t. Now hurry up,’ you whine, stopping to face them. ‘The End Cities aren’t going to raid themselves.’

Scar bit into an Elven Kiss, each bite slowly bringing him closer and closer to where you stood waiting. ‘Wait up,’ he chuckled, despite being so out of breath from trying to catch up without any elven assistance. ‘I need to fix my elytra, and we’re already heading in the direction of the enderman farm. Let’s just- stop off there first.’

You reluctantly agree, trudging at a slower pace for the short distance to your detour. ‘Are you done yet? This is taking forever,’ you whined.

‘Alright,’ Grian exclaimed. ‘You can go ahead if you want. We’re going as fast as we can.’

‘But I don’t want to go alone,’ you grumbled. Slowly, you made your way towards the edge of the platform. The void looms below you, a single misstep, and it would envelop you and everything you owned, obliterating so much time and effort, and put you through so much pain. ‘It’s only fun with you guys.’

Grian crossed his arms as he turned to face you again. ‘Well I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait don’t do that y/n–.’ But his warning came too late. You leaned backwards, letting the void take you within its grasp. Its icy fingers clawed at your shoulders as you fell further and further into oblivion.

This wasn’t right–the farm was further down than you remembered; you had already fallen too far. You could feel the excruciating pain of the void freezing you, slowly devouring you. Your hands fumbled as you tried to light your rockets to fly out of there and emerge from your joke victorious, but the cold of the void rendered you immobile, and the rockets slipped from your grasp.

You feel a sudden force jolting you upwards, the fabric of your shirt wrapped tightly around your back and sides, and yet not your chest. Your head rolled backwards, and your limbs hung by your sides. Lifting your head with a great effort by your neck, you could make out a small figure with large, vibrant wings, attempting to drag you away from your self-induced demise. Grian tossed you onto the platform, collapsing in a heap beside you.

‘Why do you do this to us,’ he breathed heavily. Despite his hair falling messily in front of his eyes, you could see him staring you down as he bit his lip in order not to say anything more.

‘It was just a bit of fun,’ you defended your actions, ‘and it’s not my fault I fell too far and lost my rockets.’

Mumbo laughed airily in that tone of disbelief usually saved for a certain persky bird. ‘That’s entirely your fault! Whose else would it be?’

You shrug. ‘I dunno… Scar’s, for making us stop here?’

‘Well now, I think that’s a bit of a harsh assumption to put on a poor elf, just tryin’ to make his way in the world!’

You jump to your feet. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. You done?’

‘Done with what?’

‘Fixing your elytra so we can go!’ You shake your head in misplaced disbelief. ‘I’ll see you guys there.’ You glide towards the Gateway, your own elytra breaking suddenly, damaged from your previous fall. You hit the ground with a thud, white particles exploding around you. Your items scattered everywhere, a few items tumbling off the edge into the Void.

Mumbo choked at the sight. ‘Do we help them, or…?’

Grian laughed and spread his wings. ‘We’ll gather their items and leave them in a shulker box. I’m not waiting any longer. It’s their own fault, and what goes around comes around.’

#my writing #🐌 anon #hermitcraft x reader #platonic writing #grian x reader #mumbo jumbo x reader #mumbo x reader #goodtimeswithscar x reader #GTWScar x Reader #gtws x reader #hc x reader #those days where you just hate your writing #mcyt x reader #the anon gang

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masterqwertster · 7 months

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Any of 12, 18, 19, 28, or 32 of the Guy in a Situation prompts seems like shenanigans Bell's Hells would get into in the Secret Library AU.

Alrighty, let's go 18 Possession/Mind-controlled. After all, Laudna is kind of possessed normally anyways.

"Come on, Laudna! You're stronger than her!" Imogen shouts, back pressed against a bookshelf.

"Oh really? Is that what you think?" a voice that isn't Laudna’s comes purring out of the dark-haired woman's mouth. “Poor dear. She hasn’t even told you that this isn’t the first time I’ve taken control. It’s not even the second.”

Fear and fury shiver down Imogen’s spine as she hears those words among the slow tap-tapping of Laudna’s possessed footsteps. A bitter and hysterical part of her mind says the bitch is probably miffed that Laudna wears flats, denying her the crisp click of heels for her little predatory stroll.

For the thousandth time, Imogen curses the artifact that came in earlier today. It’s what Delilah is after, what she saw fit to take over Laudna for, so why shouldn’t it bear the blame? There’s hope that if they can get the stupid thing to the forge it’ll be possible to melt down the little verdigris stained statue of a left hand with an eye in the palm, rendering it inert, which will then, hopefully, get Delilah to fuck right off.

Problem is, Delilah cottoned on to the plan pretty fast. Worse, she’s somehow gotten control of Ashton. You would think it would be real easy to keep track of 500-plus pounds of living stone, especially with how Ashton stomps around most of the time. But no, the damn bastard has a near-silent tread when they’re sneaking around. It’s fucking terrifying the way they ghost out of the stacks as they hunt down the rest of the team at Delilah’s command. And certainly not helped by the fact that Ashton knows the library best, seeing as it’s been their home far longer than any of the rest of the team has been here.

Though by now, FCG has, hopefully, tangled Ashton up somewhere else. Even mind-controlled, the punk rock has a soft spot a mile wide for the cute little robot. And FCG isn’t exactly defenseless either.

Imogen looks across the aisle to Chetney, receiving a nod. A steadying breath in, then she darts up the aisle, finding a new hiding place. He shadows her advance a few seconds later, ducking under a blast of magic spun between no longer friendly fingers.

The telepath and the werewolf have been playing leapfrog to distract Delilah while Orym and Fearne try the ventilation ducts to get to the forge. And they’re so lucky that Delilah can’t sense the damn artifact, otherwise the bait-and-switch before they all split wouldn’t have worked out like this.

A tsk echoes amongst the shelves.

“Try all you like, but you’re not going to beat me,” Delilah calls out, taunting. “Not without killing your precious little Laudna.”

“That’s what she said,” Chetney taunts back. Then yelps when another blast comes his way.

They’re playing a dangerous, dangerous game. Orym and Fearne need time to sneak by and do the deed. But more time means dodging more shots from Delilah, that Ashton has more chances to break free of whatever entrapment FCG has used against him. It’s a race against the clock with no way to know who’s won until the cards are all down.

How’s it going, Orym? Imogen calls down the psychic tether she’d established as the group split.

We’re there. Just trying to get the forge hot enough to melt this thing down. Orym reports, mind distracted with his current activities.

Well please hurry. I’m not sure how long we can keep this game up before someone gets real hurt.

I know. We’re trying.

“Then again, maybe you are willing to kill her. I haven’t seen that poor statue of a boy in a while. What you’ll do to him, you’ll surely be willing to do to her. Or is he just worth less to you? A Nobody that no one wants around,” Delilah continues.

Imogen’s fists clench. Sure, her and Ashton don’t always get along, but that doesn’t mean she’d kill them for what Delilah is making them do. Yet she knows just how deeply such words would cut Ashton, and it scares her that Delilah probably also knows that just from watching from behind Laudna’s eyes. It’s something only friends, like Laudna and Ashton are, should know. Delilah shouldn’t be able to tread on that bond, the fucking bitch. She shouldn’t be able to touch any of Laudna’s friendships.

And that sparks a damn foolhardy and risky plan in Imogen’s mind.

Delilah says she’s possessed Laudna before? Fine. Imogen bets that Laudna’s never had so many reasons to fight the bitch off before. Her friend just needs a reminder.

“Imogen!” Chetney hisses when she boldly steps into the middle of the aisle.

“I care about all of my friends. And that includes you, Laudna. So you better kick this bitch out, or I’m spendin’ the rest of my days lookin’ for a way to bring you back. Even if the rest of my days is just today,” Imogen declares, standing boldly in the open space.

Delilah twists Laudna’s face into a teeth-baring snarl, hands twisting into arcane motions.

Imogen doesn’t break eye contact with her best friend(‘s body).

The blast misses her by three feet.

Imogen wants to whoop in victory as frustrated confusion spreads across Delilah’s expression. She knew Laudna was in there, knew she was strong enough to throw off that damn ghost.

“Like I said, Laudna’s stronger than you,” Imogen says with a vicious, victorious grin.

“You think that’s enough to stop me!?” Delilah snarls, hands clawing for more arcane might.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think you have a reason to keep fighting anymore.”

Delilah whirls, and Imogen can see Orym and Fearne stepping up behind her. The small man tips his hands, letting a misshapen lump of metal fall to the floor.

“NO! What have you done?!” Delilah shrieks, gathering even more magic to her.

Imogen fears that this blast isn’t going to be one Laudna can redirect away from them all. Even Fearne and Chetney reflect her fear. But strangely not Orym.

The reason becomes apparent when FCG comes wheeling out of the stacks next to Laudna-Delilah, an artifact in hand and arcane words tumbling out of their mouth, Ashton standing protectively at their back.

FCG finishes before Delilah can release her blast, sending the malevolent spirit screeching back to whatever damned hole she’d crawled out of.

Imogen rushes forward to catch Laudna before Delilah is even fully banished.

“...Hello, darling,” Laudna rasps out as her eyes flutter open to Imogen cradling her.

“Hey yourself. I’m glad you're back with us,” Imogen replies, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Me too, darling. Me too.”

#MQ&A #MQfic #MQ AU machine #bells hells secret library au #imogen temult #laudna #delilah briarwood #guy in a situation prompt

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mymarifae · 2 years

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i really like the idea that in future chapters, we will be able to revisit old dark worlds. either because sealing a fountain doesn’t really mean that dark world ceases to exist, or because shit gets really fucked up and hometown is flooded with darkness, which is bad in terms of Balance, but kind of fun because it means all the dark worlds are connected now. and i think that this is the concept that seam’s dialogue after chapter 2 is setting up. i think the secret boss of chapter 3 really will be impossible to beat, and i don’t think we’re going to find the shadow mantle in chapter 3. meaning, we won’t be able to get that boss’s shadow crystal, and i have a funny feeling that getting all of them will be pretty fucking important, so there ... HAS to eventually be a way to go back, or at least that’s how i feel.

i think “hometown is flooded in darkness” is probably the most likely scenario in terms of how this will work out, meaning every hometown npc will be plunged into this new, giant dark world. and like. okay. the titans are probably on the verge of waking up, the universe is about to be destroyed, but also. it’s kind of cool. it’s kind of fun. there’s a sense of urgency but... things haven’t entirely hit the fan yet. there’s still room for fun and play and silly moments. even if they are a bit more somber now

okay anyway that’s not why i started writing this post. every dark world has been revived, absorbing hometown and now every lightner npc just has to reconcile with their new surroundings. those big ornate doors on the outskirts of castle town now act as a fast travel point, for easy access to certain places of Interest, like the old card castle or queen’s giant hamster water bottle. (though of course, you can access these places on foot still. if you wanted to poke around for extra stuff.) and we have established the idea of needing to go back to chapter 3′s dark world to beat that secret boss, after finding the mantle. which.. has yet to be found. so now it’s time to do just that. the immediate assumption is that it’ll be somewhere in the card castle--it’s not. okay let’s go look around in ??????, the first area of the closet’s dark world--surely it’s flying around somewhere up here! it’s not.

flummoxed, you start wandering around. perhaps you missed something. or several somethings. you eventually come across a newly formed doorway in what used to be alphys’s office hours alleyway. there is a cardboard sign plastered above the door, with colorful letters proclaiming that this is the “TEM SHOP.” (because we are all in agreement that if temmie goes to a dark world, she is instantly going to become a shopkeeper. somehow.) for completion’s sake, you go inside. you go through her dialogue. she just wants money for college. she doesn’t seem to care that the world might be destroyed and thus rendering her dreams of college nonexistent. she’s optimistic. you go to browse through her wares, expecting something akin to her undertale counterpart, aka a bunch of tem flakes. you stop in horror.

TEM CAPE!!!!!!! – 5,000 D$

“ARMOR 1DF sparkly. shiney...sooooo pretty AN!!! VERRY HOLY! SO VERY EXPENSIV sorryz”

temmie got the mantle first. and now you have to buy it from her. maybe the money isn’t an issue at this point, considering how easy it is to rack up dark dollars, but when you go to purchase it... temmie doesn’t seem to want to give it to you... it’s just so pretty and she likes wearing it. seems like you’ll have to offer her something pretty good in exchange.

#hi welcome to my blog where i discuss 100% serious deltarune theories and predictions #the mantle flew off after spade king's battle and it WAS flying around in ??????but tem got there first #she was scavenging for items to sell for her colleg educashun. the mantle caught her eye and she was like 🤑 but then she got attached to it #quite unfortunate.#the other day i was joking about making a predictions bingo card for deltarune but i think i'm actually going to and this is going on it #half the squares will be serious predictions like things i Know will happen because trust me i'm an english major (mostly) this is what i do #the other half will be nonsense. likethis. but i think things like this SHOULD happen because it would be so funny #and i like when things are funny. godbless

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trollcafe · 10 months

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Detectable

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Mordamere is a rather mild planet, roughly a two-week flight by commercial space ship. The soil is high in iron and rust, making it hard to farm on and very red. The trolls who live here wear long sleeves and facial covering to keep themselves safe from the dusty air. The only seadwellers around were the CO’s and high ranking officers who supervised the bustling military activity just out of the main cities. Despite its bleak skies, dry weather, and busy military ports, the native residents of Mordamere boast a vibrant music scene. Or, so Rumble explained as she read the travel pamphlet to her guardian once again.

“Do you think they have guitars and shit? Like normal band stuff? Trumpets?” It would be difficult to hear her voice from under the protective face scarf, if she didn’t have an earpiece with a microphone in it. Lockjaw was just as covered up as she was. This rendered his fins almost useless. The microphone connected to his language processing chip so he could still hear her excitement.

“They are still trolls, they came from Alternia.” To the outsider looking in, Lockjaw hadn’t said a word. It went directly to Rumble’s earpiece. The bundled up fuchsia didn’t seem to mind as she tailed the blueblood.

“But they’ve lived here for centuries! Maybe they have new stuff! If we find a pawn shop can I get a Mordamerian trumpet?”

The audio clip of a sigh played in her earpiece. “Maybe. We do have a job to finish.”

Rumble huffed softly, looking up from the pamphlet to glower at the case on Lockjaw’s back. Inside was a weapon he very rarely ever used. “Yeah, but you’re just gunna…you know, S-N-I-P-E him. That’s so-”

“Rumble.” Lockjaw stopped suddenly, turning around to make eye contact with his charge. She froze in place. Her glare moved from the rifle to his eyes, then to his hands. Her guardian was too frustrated to speak, opting instead to sign to her. It was highly unlikely, in his reasoning, that anyone here would pay much attention to a stranger using sign language. Especially considering the wide range of sign languages. “Spelling it out loud is no better than saying it out loud.”

“Okay? Nobody can hear me under this scarf! Except you! You still won’t tell me why we have to do it this way!” Though her face was mostly covered, Lockjaw could see her pout loud and clear.

“Because we do. Because it's easier this way. Because I don’t want to get caught. A million reasons, Rumble. Stop arguing. Please. We’re going to be late.” The blueblood waited for Rumble to groan in defeat before continuing on. The Handler had said to be in the apartment just before the sun had set. It would be around then that they would call the apartment itself, rather than paging Lockjaw. He cycled through the plan again, and again, and again, as the pair made their way through the dusty streets.

Stake Deepbite out. Watch where he goes. The day before he leaves, take him out. Dispose of the rifle, shells, and case in the dumpsters down the alley. Stay three more days in the apartment two floors down. Leave. Easy.

- - -

Staking out a target was the hardest part to Rumble. Thankfully, Lockjaw didn’t require her to tag along with him- in fact, he gave her specific instructions to stay as far from him as possible. The young fish wasted no time planning out all the sights she would see, running each idea by her guardian first to ensure she was far enough away. Luckily for Rumble, their target was not a very adventurous man.

At roughly the same time every day, the Imperial Deepbite would leave the hangars and mosey his way down to the restaurants, in the downtown portion. He ate at the same one almost every day, only changing his routine once or twice. Lockjaw observed from across the occasionally busy street at one of the coffee shops. He would enter at roughly the same time every day, order the same thing, and sit in one of the window seats with a stolen Fleet-assigned laptop.

The story, as he told the barista who asked, was that he was an auditor for the Fleet. He was going over the maintenance files of the various ships to ensure all parts and pieces were up to date with their care. He even went on a small, sign language tangent about how often Fleet ships overlooked the expiration date of parts they never considered important, such as seats. Seats are floatation devices AND provide protection from incoming fire! The barista didn’t seem too impressed by his scpheal, but bought it nonetheless. And considering most trolls continued to wear facial protection indoors, nobody questioned the state of his face.

So, every day, Lockjaw put on the persona of a Fleet Auditor. Alongside his stolen spaceship audit spreadsheets, Lockjaw kept a detailed record of the Imperial Deepbite’s schedule. Who he left with. The names and ranks of those who most often accompanied him. What he ate, which trolls served him. On the weekend, Deepbite would leave the hangar later, and stay late at one of the bars. Lockjaw observed him from the scope of his rifle, watching the bartender prepare and serve the fuchsia’s drink, how long it took Deepbite to drink it, who he was there with, and what he was doing. Deepbite was mostly followed by violets, a few bluebloods, other highblood officials. His main accomplice was Typhon Iottah, the Catalyst, a violet with crutches. There was another violet, too, but Lockjaw determined that his best bet for a successful hit would be to strike when the fuchsia was accompanied by his friend on crutches.

Meanwhile…Rumble explored. She’d return to the apartment at their agreed time. She would recite the events of her day with such vibrant excitement, it almost made Lockjaw forget what they had been there for. Music venues, local concerts, coffee shops on the other side of town. She met locals, visited thrift stores, even found some instruments she thought were exciting. By the end of their three-week stay, however, Rumble had run out of things to do. As such, on Deepbite’s final day, Lockjaw asked her to stay with him.

To spot him, he insisted. To provide alibi.

But mostly to prevent her from getting caught.

#rome falls arc #lockjaw #rumble #ghost.art #drabbles #i did NOT proof read this so #what happens happens yeehaw #ive been chippin away at her for a few weeks now #i actually uh. STARTED with this one

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starrierknight · 6 months

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𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 — 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

This contains spoilers for my day 25 kinktober fic.

wc— 2.2k

cws/tags— death, blood, vampirism, love/sex as a religion and worship (please let me know if I missed anything!)

TITLE

The title, of course, is a shortened version of the idiom “to bite the hand that feeds you”, which means to act poorly towards the person who is helping or has helped you. Not only is the title a reference to the actual events in the fic (Satoru literally bites the reader’s palm to feed off their blood), but it also functions to call into question whom the idiom is directed towards.

Upon first reading, it is easy to see that the idiom is in application to Satoru. This is supported by the reader’s words:

“I’ve been so good to you, and you’re talking back.”

Here, we see that from the reader insert’s perspective, letting Satoru feed from them equates to being “good”. While this is true—Satoru is a vampire who has killed and feasted upon innocent human beings for centuries, the reader does not owe him the kindness of their blood—we must also consider the application of the idiom in reverse.

Upon further inspection, it is more clearly seen that the idiom is also applicable to the reader. After Satoru has fed off the reader’s blood and treated them so reverently after performing oral, even going so far as to soothe the reader after they achieve their orgasm, we must come to terms with these actions are undeniably good. With this in mind, the reader’s newfound reluctance to kill Satoru is given new depth.

On the one hand, the reader is no longer certain that killing him is the right thing to do. On the other, despite their reluctance, the reader is still considering their duty as a vampire slayer—that they should kill Satoru on principle, regardless of his expression of humanity.

The final line of the fic underscores the ultimatum: “Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?”

EPIGRAPH

Here is the entire quote. In bold is the section used for the epigraph of my fic:

“Most people live for love and admiration. But it is by love and admiration that we should live. If any love is shown us we should recognise that we are quite unworthy of it. Nobody is worthy to be loved. The fact that God loves man shows us that in the divine order of ideal things it is written that eternal love is to be given to what is eternally unworthy. Or if that phrase seems to be a bitter one to bear, let us say that everyone is worthy of love, except him who thinks that he is. Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine, non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.” ― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

While the original quote is not about oral sex, in the context of it being an epigraph to this particular fic of mine, it is encouraged to be interpreted that way. This was chosen because the fic blurs the line between sex and worship.

In Matthew 8:8, Jesus is approached by a centurion who asks Him to heal his servant. Since the centurion knows that a good Jewish man like Jesus would cause scandal by coming into the home of a Roman soldier, the centurion says “Domine non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum sed tantum dic verbo et sanabitur puer meus.”

In the New American Bible, this text is rendered “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.”

Domine, non sum dignus -> “Lord, I am not worthy”

LANGUAGE CHOICE

The Power of Names

“Speak, monster,” you said in a cool, steady tone. [...] “Oh, come on. Why the formalities?” he taunted in an airy whisper, a smug lilt to his tone. “Don’t you think we’re past that?” [...] “Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering. His eyes drank you in with an uncanny hunger. “Gojo Satoru. Though, please, Satoru will do just fine.”

Satoru’s smugness and lingering pride function as a way of veiling his desperation for intimacy in his last moments. Despite the reader’s attempt to distance themselves from Satoru, he insists on being called by his first name. It’s worth noting that despite Satoru and the reader not having a close relationship at this point in time, calling somebody by their first name in Japan usually means some kind of close kinship or relationship.

To kill

- “Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering. - “Have your taste before I slaughter you, Satoru.” - “Where’s the beast I came to slaughter tonight?” - “I’ll teach you manners before I slay you tonight.” (<- fun fact! This is actually a reference to this fic) - “You can kill me now, and I’ll die human,” he murmured.

slay: to kill in a violent way

slaughter: the killing of many people cruelly and unfairly, especially in a war OR the killing of animals for meat

kill: to cause someone or something to die OR to stop or destroy a relationship, activity, or experience OR to drink all of something

Not once in the entire fic does the reader say in speech that they will “kill” Satoru. However, if you interpret the final line of the fic as the reader’s own train of thought:

“Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?”

It could be argued that this changes.

In this fic, to “kill” and to die are incredibly intimate acts and are implied to be signifiers of humanity.

Play On Words

“The blood. The blood in the chalice—that bait you left for me. Was it yours? Did you… alter it?”

alter: to change something, usually slightly, or to cause the characteristics of something to change

altar: a structure with a flat top, often shaped like a table, that is used in some religious ceremonies, for example as a place to put important religious objects

When writing this particular line, I kept in mind that “alter” and “altar” are homophones. With this in mind, it is easy to argue that Satoru drinking the reader’s blood they used as a way to lure him is symbolic of drinking wine at Communion, which is done to commemorate the death of Christ and to represent the mutual communion of believers with each other.

“Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?”

The phrase “a little death” comes from the French saying, “La petite mort” which means "the brief loss or weakening of consciousness" and in modern usage refers specifically to "the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death”.

In the most literal sense, the final line is in reference to the reader’s orgasm brought on by Satoru. However, it is also in reference to the lapse in judgment from both parties (the reader is a vampire slayer who should be killing the vampire, and Satoru is a vampire who should be fighting for his own survival).

The word “sharing” is incredibly important—this is the first real moment where the reader and Satoru have been ‘united’ over something.

Last Meal

“Please,” the longing etched into his contorted expression spoke of desire both primal and inexplicable. “One last request before it’s over. Please.”

A condemned prisoner's last meal is a customary ritual preceding execution. In many countries, the prisoner may, within reason, select what the last meal will be.

Dialogue tags

- “You disgust me,” you hissed, pressing the blade to his neck so that it was perilously close to breaking his skin. - "Did I say you could bite?" you hissed through gritted teeth.

While “hissing” is to say something in a quiet angry way, it is also associated with angry/frightened animals—and vampires. Not once does Satoru ever hiss.

JUXTAPOSITION

A brief overview of some of the juxtaposing themes/imagery:

Humanity/Monstrosity

- The raw power that you expected to emanate from a monster so ancient, so sinister, seemed to have dulled into something strangely human. His aura of malevolence was overshadowed by a pitiable aura of need. - He pressed closer to the flat of the blade—the dichotomy of his action hauntingly human.

Predator/Prey (Vampire/Vampire Slayer)

The tableau is one of stark contrasts—the resolute hunter and the feeble prey, the chilling void of the night and the warmth of desperate need.

Blood/Nectar

- A languid, serpentine motion as his tongue darted out, collecting the remnants of blood, your blood, that clung to his lips. The taste, metallic and potent as you knew it to be, was like the sweetest nectar to him. - The taste of your blood, infused with the sweet essence of your very being, flooded his senses.

Angels/Demons

- His eyelids parted, revealing pupils dilated to a darkness. Those eyes, a chromatic anomaly amidst the desolation of his existence, were a cerulean that defied nature's palette. They were too blue, too vivid—a celestial fragment from the vast expanse of the heavens that had fallen into his wretched possession. - He was disturbingly beautiful: Far too angelic in appearance, though you supposed it was a façade to lure in his prey.

What is Seen/What is Said

Note how the descriptions consistently portray Satoru as beautiful, even if the reader says otherwise.

- Satoru’s head, heavy with the weight of his longing, found its place on your lap, a gesture that radiated a delicate surrender. His silvery hair, like silk against your legs, contrasted starkly with the increasingly depraved display. “You really are vile,” you breathed, the sting from the wound shooting up your arm.

Gentility/Depravity

- His lips sought redemption in a sequence of fervent kisses. They trailed across the delicate skin of your wrist, your knuckles, and the tips of your fingers. The gesture, if not for the lingering urgency of his movements, would have held a sweet tenderness, an attempt to mend what had been broken. Amid this tangled web of feelings, the grinding of his arousal against you persisted, a relentless echo of his desire. The moans that escaped him seemed to punctuate each kiss, a wretched symphony of need.

Pleasure/Pain

See: the whole fic lol.

LOVE AS [XYZ]

Love As Religion

Depth of Emotion: Describing love as religion suggests that it is a deeply held and fundamental aspect of human experience. This metaphor highlights the emotional intensity and significance of love in one's life. Love, like religion, can inspire devotion, commitment, and a sense of purpose.

Spiritual Connection: Love as a religion implies that love can create a spiritual or transcendent connection between individuals. It suggests that love can be a source of meaning and purpose, much like religion is for many people. This metaphor can be used to explore the idea of finding transcendence and spiritual fulfilment in love.

Moral and Ethical Considerations: Just as religions often have moral and ethical guidelines, the concept of "love as religion" can be used to explore the moral and ethical dimensions of love. It raises questions about how one should treat their loved ones and how love can be a force for good in the world.

Sacrifice and Devotion: Love as religion can also be a metaphor for the sacrifices and devotion that people are willing to make for the ones they love. It emphasises the idea that love can inspire acts of selflessness and dedication, much like religious devotion.

Love As Worship

Reverence and Adoration: When love is compared to worship, it emphasises the idea of reverence and adoration. Love is portrayed as a powerful force that demands admiration and respect. This metaphor underscores the idea that love can be all-consuming and awe-inspiring.

Rituals and Symbolism: Love as worship may involve rituals and symbolic acts that signify one's commitment and devotion to a loved one. Just as religious ceremonies and rituals have symbolic meaning, the act of showing love can be filled with symbolism and meaningful gestures.

Transcendence: Love as worship can also suggest a form of transcendence, where individuals elevate their loved ones to a higher status in their lives. It can explore the idea that love can lift people beyond their ordinary existence and provide a sense of purpose and meaning.

Sacrifice and Submission: Like religious worship may involve sacrifice and submission to a higher power, love as worship can be a way of expressing the sacrifices and compromises one is willing to make for the sake of their loved one.

RELIGION AS A SEMANTIC FIELD

In literature, a semantic field, also known as a lexical field or semantic domain, refers to a group of words or terms related by their common theme or subject matter. These words are typically grouped together because they share a connection in meaning and are often used to convey a particular concept, idea, or image. The purpose of using a semantic field is to create a specific atmosphere, convey a particular emotion, or emphasize a theme within a literary work.

kneeling, serpentine/serpent, celestial, heaven, wretched, damned, angelic, chalice, transcended, reverence, offering, blood, artistic, surrender, testament, declaration, redemption, plea, lust, confession, power, bliss, monster, beast, God, sculpted, submission, painted, refrain, bloodlust, surreal, obedience, kiss, mercy, haven, devotion, divine, masterpiece, worship, manifest, bore, ardent, adore, tribute, gratitude, mantra, token, appreciation, creature

#[ ☠︎︎ ] — ex.plicit #cw blood #cw death #tw death #[ ⌕ ] — reece's lectures

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twinklepark · 2 years

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(*saw 6x08 at tribeca yesterday, i’m queueing this thought for when it airs because i feel. insane)

ever since 6x03 aired, i got the distinct sense that something about nacho’s fate got under gus’ skin, but hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was. after this ep, however, i’m fairly confident that it was him finally recognizing on some level that nacho’s intense, righteous hatred of the cartel meant that all along, the two of them were more alike than they were different. more than a simplistic question of remorse, it turned my attention to how in bcs, most characters have an unanswerable moral question to them- and gus’ is is he meaningfully different from the people he hates (tip: i reject a yes/no answer here)

i feel like in discussions of gus’ actions, it’s easy to get lost in this idea that because he himself is so at peace with the heartlessness and brutality he’s adopted out of pragmatism, it doesn’t matter what his motives are. but, completely divorced from debates on what this does and doesn’t justify (which don’t interest me) it does him a huge disservice to ignore that these people hurt him in an extremely profound way, and one that defines his placement on this food chain.

which brings us to. the scene. with the parallel.

so the short version is gus killed lalo by emulating nacho. good fucking lord

reading gus is always gonna mean taking out a magnifying glass, but this, to me, feels like his answer to nacho’s last act, an acknowledgment of where everyone stands in relation to each other.

just as, i now suspect, his refusal to watch hector and the twins shoot at his body may have to do with the recognition that he has more in common with the corpse currently being desecrated (because of him) than the men doing it– here he’s acted in a way that, narratively speaking, aligns himself with the memory of the man he wronged.

when he speaks to his designs for hector, he is, in effect, completing nacho’s claim to his suffering. nacho put him in that chair and now gus is going to ensure he’s miserable, etc. which makes sense, as something that i felt we probably should’ve been acknowledging about how all the men nacho cursed out met violent ends was that.. gus and his vendetta was responsible for an overwhelming amount of that. like that seems kind of important.

now, gus’ take on the I Hope You All Fucking Die speech, in this context, is in many ways the exact opposite to nacho’s. nothing about it frees him, or satisfies him in any meaningful way. (if he dies here, without getting revenge, then two decades of his life were rendered totally meaningless. but if he lives, then these words will never reach the ears of the men he hates.)

it’s not a triumphant last stand in the desert sun by a man making a noble sacrifice, it’s a desperate ploy in a dark dank tomb by a man who’s been so rotted through by his rage and hatred that there is nothing but that left for him. (and yet, it’s also why he refuses to die here)

the other thing that really really stands out to me is that between bcs and brba, we only see gus directly, violently kill 3 characters (not counting the poison) and the previous two were calculated ploys to reaffirm his authoritative position. (they were cruel, but the SPECTACLE of the cruelty was part of the intended function.) everything about his last confrontation with lalo, however, functioned as a reminder that no matter how far he’s come, to them, he’s still the man who had his blood-splattered face ground into the deck of eladio’s pool 20 years earlier. none of his hard-won power would stop these people from eating him alive if he slips for even a moment. (again reaffirming he shares more with our dearly departed nacho than the men he turned him over to for execution)

when people speculated about something like this happening, it generally came with the assumption that it’d be in typical controlled evil genius gustavo fring fashion, some act of chilling methodical cruelty– but i’m so so so enamored with how that couldn’t be further from the actual scene. everything from the way lalo lightheartedly degraded him to the act of frantically firing into the dark reflect a relationship to the salamancas that he’s been desperately trying (and failing) to crawl out from under. lalo got the last laugh here, after all, even if the one cursing his name got to live this time.

of course, who’s to say how nacho would’ve felt about any of this. this recognition can only go one way, and nacho more than anyone else in this story seemed to resist gus’ narrative that he’s different (see: him asking mike if he knows what kind of person he's working for in 5x06 right after mike was theoretically swayed by his motivations in 5x05). but he’s dead now. so he doesn’t exactly get a say in what his memory is used for.

and gus is already so fundamentally defined by one ghost, so like, what’s another, really

in conclusion: i liked to joke about the better timeline where gus was just marginally less of a total freak and recognized that nacho trying to kill hector made them On The Same Side. but i honestly didn’t think that this is a conclusion gus himself could reach. happy gay wrath month

#bcs s6 #bcs spoilers #gus fring #sorryyy this is long i needed it out. if you're reading this from the future you BETTER finally be putting some respect on his name #bcs got me so fucked up i'm actually using this blog like a blog again

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thedailytao · 9 months

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Passage 2

When people see things as beautiful, ugliness is created. When people see things as good, evil is created.

Being and non-being produce each other. Difficult and easy complement each other. Long and short define each other. High and low oppose each other. Fore and aft follow each other.

Therefore the Master can act without doing anything and teach without saying a word. Things come her way and she does not stop them; things leave and she lets them go. She has without possessing and acts without expectations. When her work is done, she takes no credit. That is why it will last forever.

Here begins a central tenet of Taoism: reserving judgment. An interesting emphasis here is that positive judgment is just as harmful as negative judgment.

I came across a snake in the woods one summer. In my panic, I put the snake into several categories: gross, scary, dangerous. My hiking companion looked at the snake and said, “It’s beautiful.” Were either of us correct? Both of us looked at the same animal and saw something different. We both rendered judgment. In that way, neither of us were able to view the animal as it truly was.

In response to this story, another friend said, “Humans categorize snakes as scary or beautiful or gross. But what is a snake if you’re also a snake? Probably not any of those things. Snakes can be strangers or mothers. Caring or territorial. Our reactions miss all of those aspects.”

Another common category we use is ownership. The last stanza says that a follower of the Tao can have without possessing. We look at an item and think, “This is mine.” We can also look at a person and think, “They are mine,” whether they are your friend, your family, your significant other. This creates ownership. What if you think instead, “This is something/someone I have right now.”

I find this helpful in letting things go. When you lose something of sentimental value, it’s easy to become emotional and think, “I lost this, and it was supposed to be mine.” Instead, say, “I had it for a while, and now I don’t.” It works for people also. In grief, instead of saying, “This person was mine and they were taken from me,” we can say, “I was allowed to enjoy their presence for a little while, and now I cannot.” It doesn’t make the absence of the person hurt less, but it blunts reactions like rage and indignation that often accompany grief.

#the daily tao #taoism #Tao Te Ching

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robcognitivepersonality · 1 year

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The Mastermind & the Field Marshall

How I get along with ENTJs as an INTJ

As I met with Bobby for the first time in many years, “Hey how ya been?” I cautiously started. “Hi!! I’m good!” Bobby glowed out. “Awesome!” I matched. Driven for a more serious conversation, I added, “But listen. I wanna say I’m really sorry. I’ve been super busy.” “OK! Let’s go out and play!” Again I matched, “Great! Let’s do it then.” Still unsatisfied with our conversation, I furrowed my brows, “So how about playing for many days? It’s been a long time I haven’t seen you. I kinda know my way around outside. You’ll lead and I’ll guide yeah?” “YEAHH!!” It was no surprise for Bobby to be so readily receptive. While this would be the start of rekindling our relationship, I still felt guilty. I lowered my gaze and mustered, “I’m sorry.” “Huh?” “It’s complicated.” Scrounging for words for Bobby to understand, “Well I was afraid you’d get hurt. I thought it was best to keep you safe here. It’s just not a place for kids, ya know.” Detailing the complexities of reality was futile. Yet Bobby started to grasp what I was trying to say. “Was I bad?” He hesitated, “Does outside think I’m bad?” Bobby’s fainting glow was blanketed by a feeling I knew all too well. It’s the same feeling that used to rot my insides and scramble my thoughts. I thought I got rid of it until I realized I left it with Bobby. At that moment, we shared it.

Cornered with nowhere to hide, I shriveled, “No… No, of course not. It-it’s my fault. I was trying to build a future for you. But I only built it for myself. They said we don’t get to be kids anymore. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong to — ” “ — Leave me here.” “Yeah. I thought I was protecting you but I left you,” I surrendered. “Growing up I couldn’t wait to be an adult. I never hated you. I was never ashamed of you. I was too scared.” Saying ‘scared’ out loud rendered me defenseless. I braced for any reaction Bobby would lash out. I couldn’t sink myself in anymore. Suddenly the guilt started to fade off. I started to feel… clear. And clearly, I had more to say. “Look, it’s different now. I don’t want to stay scared anymore. There’s some bad people, the world can be scary, and that’s OK. I love you and that’s all that matters. I know that now.” “Will they like me?” “Yes!” I reassured. “You’re my joy and I want to show the world why. I want them to know who you are.” Reaching the end of my spiel, I reiterated, “Who we are… Who we really are.” Wrapping my arms around him, I stared off into the distance at a future I’d never seen. A future for both me and myself. I was still scared. I worried about how I would be received. Savoring my warmth, Bobby looked up. “Hey.” “Yeah?” “I’m glad you’re here.” “Me too. I’m glad I’m here.”

If you’re as old as I am at the ripe age of 37, you had this kind of conversation with yourself before. I’d even say you’ve visited your inner self more frequently and seriously than I have. Facts don’t care about my feelings. I find my place and be reasoned. It works the other way around for you, you have reasons. It’s your feelings that don’t care about facts.

If you don’t like how things are done, you as an Extraverted Thinking dominant will change them. Hence why you out of all the types are most sensitively aware how your actions reflect who you are as a person. So no, you’re not a sociopath. ENTJs thoroughly evaluate if their goals would truly make them happy before they set out to achieve them. You’re the living embodiment of “Be careful what you wish for.” You think through — not only logically but also — to ensure your heart is in the right place.

“In 1998, I lost my reputation and my dignity. I lost my sense of self. A marketplace has emerged where public humiliation is a commodity and shame is an industry. Anyone who is suffering from shame and public humiliation needs to know one thing: you can survive it. I know it’s hard. It may not be painless, quick or easy, but you can insist on a different ending to your story.” — Monica Lewinsky

There’s no doubt from you and anyone else when it is in that right place. Your emotions don’t need to be spoken, they’re felt by whoever pays attention. The ENTJs I know set their lives caring for their loved ones and do right by them. The best of you account for yourself and everybody else as a whole. Having “inferior” Introverted Feeling, you could overextend yourself for others to the point it’s self-sabotaging. Type descriptions fail to mention how you can genuinely be too unselfish. And that’s highly unfair.

While we’re at it, you’re not a commanding CEO of some mega-corporation. You take too much ownership of your life to depend on others. You’d rather work independently or lead a small posse, rolling up your sleeves getting shit done rather than preaching about synergy and company values. You don’t present detailed road maps nor devise contingency plans either. Introverted Intuition is a personal vision. It’s Plan A, the one and only plan. Company strategy around industry paradigm shifts is not part of Plan A. If anything, it’s in the way.

That’s all Ni is, a goal. It’s not some master plan where you know every step of the way for the next 20 years, for sure it’s not some crystal ball either. It feels more like a mortgage that you need to pay off in whatever way possible. It’s a chosen commitment of spending your days willing yourself to materialize your dreams. That journey of making periodic progress is what’s most fulfilling for ENTJs. It’s a pursuit of happiness.

It’s a little different for me, Ni isn’t a vision that propels me to pursue whatever my heart desires. Introverted Intuition to me is an ocean. I’m floating on a watercraft that can shape shift into a cargo ship, a sailboat, or a surfboard. I forecast the weather to figure the best option to shape shift in order to better brace myself for the incoming storms. I like to stay afloat withstanding the changes in economic, social, and political climates.

Personally I’m a bit of a storm chaser sensing the winds, the clouds, the humidity, and all that sum up to form the storms. And what I’m looking for, more specifically, are the ones that make the best waves to surf. To be the best surfer I can be, I keep an eye on what the weather is doing and find those waves. The MBTI community thinks I have this mystical power to predict the future, I just understand enough about ocean storms and listen to what the weather indicators tell me. But you know who I think has superpowers? You.

“I think there’s something inside of you — and inside of all of us — when we see something and we think, ‘I think I can do it, I think I can do it. But I’m afraid to.’ Bridging that gap, doing what you’re afraid of, getting out of your comfort zone, taking risks like that — THAT is what life is. You might find out something about yourself that’s special. And if you’re not good, who cares? You tried something. Now you know something about yourself.” — Amy Poehler

You change the weather, split tectonic plates, and move mountains; doing whatever to create the waves you want. While I analyze forecasting outcomes, you bulldoze through making the outcomes happen. It’s fucking amazing. Who the hell decides they’re gonna control the weather?? When you want something bad enough, when you love something hard enough, you’ll go get it. Perhaps you feel your life could be better, perhaps the world could be better. Perhaps you feel other people deserve to enjoy surfing the waves too.

When I think about being industrious, I think about my parents who have tirelessly worked to give my brother and me a better future. Every morning, they prepared food and set tables for our restaurant. During off-business hours, they mopped the floors and restocked on groceries. They named me Robert because it works both in French, my native language, and English, for when we would set out for America. And we eventually did, as envisioned.

Mom showed me articles about high achieving kids going to prestigious schools. She tried to inspire me by pointing out how aimless my eyes looked compared to theirs; that I should look more urgent. To be more like a boss, she used to say. She added if I wanted to be more like those kids, as well like Dad and herself, then I needed courage. I didn’t fully understand that until recently when I got to know some of you.

My life is a decision-making game of analyzing facts and managing risks. I’m pretty good at this game, but I don’t make the rules nor control the facts. What I can control are my emotions as I weigh my options based on their rewards and my confidence in them. Funny how that’s called making logical decisions when, really, I choose whichever I feel best about. That’s how I realized I trusted the facts more than I trusted myself. Not my brain, myself. Bobby hid behind the wall of logic.

“Chess isn’t always competitive. Chess can also be beautiful. It was the board I noticed first. It’s an entire world of just 64 squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.” — Beth Harmon, from Queen’s Gambit

The world you build is an extension of who you are. People and things get affected, so what if it doesn’t turn out better? I was too perfectionist about what my world would be and shied away about what it is. I was afraid I wouldn’t like how it would turn out and how that would reflect back on who I am. Yet I hear you admitting how scared and afraid you are more times than I have. Maybe that’s part of the challenge for you. Whatever it is, watching you made me believe that I can do it too.

You showed me how to seize the day, round people up, and get shit done. I’ve watched you get better grades, earn more promotions, gain more respect, thrive in harsher conditions. All while also inspire others, party harder, have more fun, and even show more care for people. Why wait? Have courage and make it happen. Skills and talent not required.

We all have limited time here. We’re just trying to live an honest life being as good-hearted as we can. Live doing what you love and for who you love. I’ll build a whole island where the waves are better than I could’ve ever imagined. My future is to set Mom and Dad to enjoy their retirement years. I will take care of my family no matter what’s going on around the world. And for sure I will not let lack of courage be an excuse for my shortcomings.

#intj thoughts #intj #mbti intj #entj thoughts #intj x entj #entj personality #jungian #carl jung #mbti #myers briggs #16 types #16 personality types #cognitive functions

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tornsurvivors · 2 years

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Silvermoon City Inn At twilight

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Nobody would’ve thought to find Liadrin here out of all places, especially not for a moment of downtime to indulge in alcoholic beverages. But the week had been grueling. Maybe that’s why she knew to come here... where she wouldn’t be bothered. Fjora was off on one of her travels again, and Liadrin missed her terribly so-- nights without her lover were restless. Sleep did not linger peacefully. Nightmares wreaked havoc on her nerves. Then on top of that, conflicts arose across the continent that required her attention and none of them had been too pleasant. She had hoped things would be quieter and peaceful, especially after the disasters that nearly tore the world asunder. Her sanity alongside it.

The more recent incidents that regarded those who continued to hold grudges against one other-- a hatred that would never die... were exhausting. A pointless hatred, she thought. There were also people still victims of the heavy arcane addiction. There had been so damned much to deal with and for a moment earlier today, she could’ve sworn she was going to fall apart. Especially after a meeting between the Horde and Alliance, concerning the peace treaty. Everyone knew that it didn’t matter if both factions had a peace treaty going on... there were STILL going to be people who would find ways to break that. Simply because they blindly hated the opposing side.

‘Nothing comes easy, ever.’ The little rational voice echoed in the back of her head, and Liadrin scoffed quietly into her glass-- ignoring the questioning glance from the bartender. ‘Boy, don’t I know it.’ She mentally shot back, before downing the remainder of her beverage and set the glass back down. A few taps of it against the counter, to let the bartender know she wished for more. He poured her more, but the paused as his eyes widened in surprise-- looking at... something, or someone behind the Blood Knight Matriarch.

Liadrin followed the shocked gaze, and she froze. Then she stood up quickly. “Windrunner.” She breathed out.

Light blue eyes stared back, not red... no longer red, but blue. Stunning blue. Then a long blonde eyebrow lifted, and the chuckle that rolled off the Ranger-General’s tongue was like a sweet melody. “Drop the formalities, Liadrin. We are both off-duty, no? Please, sit and continue your internal lamenting.” Sylvanas waved a hand as she approached the bar and settled down on the vacant stool next to Liadrin’s.

The blood knight looked absolutely gobsmacked, mouth open in an ‘oh’ and golden eyes rapidly blinking. Sylvanas looked like she was tempted to laugh, evident by the way her lips twitched in amusement as she addressed the bartender. “If you’ll be so kind to stop staring... and pour me one of...” A side glance at Liadrin’s drink and gestured at it. “Whatever she’s having.” She then turned her head and right then, Liadrin felt as if those blue eyes were piercing her soul as she gazed into her golden ones. “And what is it that you’re treating yourself to, Liadrin~?” Belore! The way her name rolled off Sylvanas’ tongue seemed to make her weak in the knees for whatever reason only Elune knows.

Meanwhile, the bartender just cleared his throat-- face visibly red now due to embarrassment as he poured another glass and slid it over to Sylvanas. Of course, no one was still used to seeing the Ranger-General, restored to her old self, being around again. Then render them speechless due to the fact that the most exquisite High Elf even acknowledged them. It’s only then Liadrin figured out why she felt such way around Sylvanas. One, being that she has a high regard for her and the other reason being that-- no. Don’t go there now, brain. Liadrin silently cursed her mind as she sat herself back down.

It didn’t matter if everyone constantly reminded her... that it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t do a thing to help Sylvanas in her deformed state that tragic day. She’ll always feel like she had a responsibility that she failed to hold. Sylvanas was and is her people.

“Well, are you going to share your choice in poison or am I to play the guessing game?” Sylvanas’ words still had that light and playful tone to them, tearing Liadrin out of her gloomy reverie. When gold eyes flicked to Sylvanas as she turned her head to answer, she was stunned into silence again. Because she saw something in the light blue eyes that was incredibly... soft. Yet deep. Probing. Then understanding. It’s almost as if... she knew what Liadrin was struggling with.

“...Azshara Red.” Liadrin answered, and Sylvanas smiled. Belore, she smiled. And it was the most beautiful thing to witness in all of existence. Oh, she knew what the beverage was this whole time, alright.

“My Lady, had I known your excellent taste long ago... I would have kept you all to myself.” Sylvanas chuckled again, a glint in her eyes as she slowly sipped the beverage. Then swished it in her mouth, savoring it. Liadrin watched in silent awe as Sylvanas’ eyes closed for a moment, appearing like she was basking in the moment. Almost as if she was reveling in the sweetness of it for the first time ever. ‘How long had it been for her... suffering as the horror she had turned into? Unable to enjoy the simplicities of life, because of the torment she had to endure within her? Unable to love, due to being so thoroughly consumed by the hatred and disgust she felt towards Arthas? And towards the living?’

So many questions, so little time-- no, they had all the time in the world now... do they not?

“I’m sorry,” Liadrin blurted out of the blue. Unbeknown to herself, tears were slowly gathering in her eyes-- till she felt them sting and made her vision blur. Sylvanas’ eyes opened slowly, before long blonde brows furrowed when she noted the pain written all over Liadrin’s features-- that was being mirrored in her own eyes. Liadrin continued, choking on a sob in between. “I’m s-so... so sorry, that I couldn’t do a thing to stop Arthas that day. Couldn’t do a damned thing to free you. I... I just... let them parade you around as if you were a trophy on their pedestal, while I watched helplessly in horror at what you did to our people... I cannot--” A pause to let out a louder sob, golden eyes slamming shut and her head dropped. “...c-cannot... even begin to imagine how you must’ve felt... in that twisted body--”

She suddenly stopped dead, chest tight from pain and anxiety-- as the most recent nightmare repeated in a broken flashback across her mind’s eye. That pain was suddenly... being soothed-- numbed, by a warmth. The warmth of the calloused hand on her shoulder. Sylvanas’ hand.

“Do not blame yourself. There is no reason for you to ever blame yourself for what that monster did to me. For what he did to us all.” Sylvanas’ voice was gentle, but her gaze was firm in it’s own reassuring way. “You did everything you could. You saved a lot of souls that day, Liadrin. Yes... I saw you that day. I saw you, and I knew our people would thrive again. Because of you. If anything... I could not be thankful enough to Elune that the Banshee I turned into did not set it’s sights on you. Quel’Thalas needed you more than ever, and you were there as their Defender when I couldn’t be. The Sunwell is purified again because of you. Silvermoon City continues to prosper because of you and your Blood Knights. Oh Liadrin, you have done so much more than you think and see. It is time to cast those doubts aside, for that they belong in the past with our ghosts and our demons. It’s not your fault. Let it go.”

This is it. This is what she needed after all this time. For Sylvanas to tell her it wasn’t her fault, only Sylvanas. Liadrin could no longer hold the floodgates in place, letting them break loose and crumbled-- falling forward in Sylvanas’ embrace and sobbed so hard, letting go of everything she had held in for so long. The bartender quietly stepped away to leave them be, along with a full bottle of Red Azshara that he knew they would need for the remainder of the twilight. Sylvanas and Liadrin ended up spending the whole night, talking about everything and reminiscing on the sweetest parts of their past-- while leaving the tragic ones behind in the dark where they belonged.

#welp this got longer than i anticipated.#and i actually cried when i wrote this.#i hope whoever reads this can share the strong feelings i had for these two.#i know one person in particular would though #DRABBLES » memoirs of a torn survivor #SYLVANAS MUSINGS » I deserved a clean death #LIADRIN MUSINGS » our strength in the light #VERSE: WARCRAFT // a second chance to live #long post /

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berenices-commas · 29 days

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The Mimicking of Known Successes - 2023 - Malka Older

I’ve always enjoyed Malka Older. Not just The Centenal Cycle but pretty much all her writing. This one, though, did not grab me. To some extent because this just isn’t my kind of thing, and also because The Mimicking of Known Successes doesn’t quite live up to its own promises. This is both a murder mystery and a romance, and I’ll treat those aspects separately.

But first, I do like worldbuilding, so I’m going to talk about that. The image of a Jupiter bound about with planet-spanning habitation rings is a great one, maybe the best part of the book. But beneath the space gaslamp veneer, the society on those rings isn’t particularly interesting. The world of Infomocracy is wonderful, it’s teeming with people wrapped up in their own identities, communities, politics, and yet part of a gigantic, messy whole. Here, though, nobody really has an identity, and we get very little idea of what the broader society looks like. I think this is a longstanding problem in SF (I just finished reading The Caves of Steel) – it’s easy to create a future that seems so much flatter than our world.

Also, the premise where humans have rendered Earth uninhabitable and fled into space, and this proves that humanity Can’t Have Nice Things, has never really made sense and is by now a dreadful cliché besides. It’d be alright if it was just a contrivance to do the cool Jupiter thing, but the central philosophical question of the book revolves around the assumption that climate change will literally wipe out all (macroscopic?) life on Earth, and thus can’t really be taken seriously.

But anyway! The important bits. This is, of course, Sherlock Holmes in space, and that means this is a Conan-Doyle-style mystery. And here I confess that I just prefer the later approach to mystery construction where the story is a puzzle for the reader to solve. Of course, that’s very tricky to do right in a SF setting, where the reader lacks basic context, so it’s easy to see why Older opted for the earlier, thriller style. Here the focus is on the process of the investigation, on the aforementioned dodgy philosophy and the characters of the detectives themselves. And it does feel a lot like a Sherlock Holmes story, right down to the random attack by an exotic animal to keep things tense. But that’s not my thing – I just think it’s a waste of a good murder.

The romance... is fine? Mossa and Pleiti are cute together, and their connection feels real. But I wasn’t seized, I don’t feel particularly invested in the couple, and I imagine that after a few weeks I’ll never think about them again. I have high standards for loadbearing romances in fiction – they should be not just plausible but genuinely compelling, or what’s the point?

The end product is a novella which is certainly not bad, but not especially exciting either. In some ways this is perhaps the first true casualty of the “cozy” trend in contemporary SFF – Older is very definitely capable of better than this, but has chosen to write something without much weight to it for the sake of marketing. Or maybe she never considered the marketing aspect at all, and just thought a space Holmes story would be cool, I don’t know. Either way, I’m not thrilled by this new series.

#reviews #sff #the mimicking of known successes #malka older

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scribeforchrist-blog · 2 months

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Don’t Accept The Invite

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ 1 Peter 3:11 They must turn from evil and do good; they must seek peace and pursue it.

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+ 1 John 3:15 Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM CLOSING ALL DOORS

I AM FOLLOWING JESUS

I AM LETTING GO

I AM AT PEACE

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THOUGHTS:

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When we hate someone, we carry a deep emotion that causes us to attract other spirits, like bitterness, aggression, and jealousy. When we carry these, it leads to other emotions that we will say right now, that's not me; I'm not that way, but honestly, when we are full of anger, emotions can turn whether quickly I have heard of people on tv that would say I dont know how this happened or how this turned so quickly its because the spirit they are letting in finally takes over.

They lose control. Yes, we open doors to these spirits, invite them into us, and allow them in, and they don't do it drastically. No, because then we would see what they are doing, and we would stop them. No, they do little things that some of us won't notice until it's too late. Still, the verse tells us right here: if you hate your brother, you're a murderer, and if you murder, you have no eternal life abiding in Jesus because when we hate someone this much, we are killing them within ourselves emotionally every day.

That's why every day in Noonday prayer, I tell people to pray for self-control, not just over the sexual things but over the emotions we do not even realize we have; I have even seen people say things and they would cover their mouths because they can't believe they said this or that and that's because it's in them, that spirit and emotions are in them waiting to get out, and sometimes these emotions are so overwhelming some people lose so much control because they can't control the rage or the emotion they feel, we as believers must every day ask God to show us what's in our heart David did this one time he said

Psalm 51:10 Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.

We must apply this verse every day because he is the only one who can renew us; He is the only one who can give us a complete transformation. God wants to transform us from dark to light, but we must render control to him to do so. Everyone is about transforming their body. What about our hearts? What about our minds? God says, "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what the will of God is, what is good and acceptable and perfect."

It says do not be conformed to the wickedness in this world but be transformed by what God does to our mind. So, when we are transformed, we can discern God's will because as long as we are in the dark, we can't discern anything. We dont know anything because we are walking in darkness . The word of God also says, “Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” we will be in the light when we follow God, but as long as we are giving the lead to this world, we will forever be in the dark, God is speaking to somebody today God is ready to release you from your heavy laden. Still, we have to be the ones that stop and rest it upon God. We have to be the ones ready for the transformation. Are you ready for a transformation?

Leviticus 19:17 You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason frankly with your neighbor, lest you incur sin because of him.

So if you're in pain or hate someone this much, you have to let go of the hate, and no, this isn't going to be easy. The prince of darkness knows that we are seeking help and guidance, but we have to be the ones to say I dont want to walk like this, and I don't want to hate. We have to be willing to kill the flesh to be set free from it! We have to be willing to let go! The moment we make this change, we can expect a breakthrough in this area of our lives.

***Today, we learned we can’t hate anyone, and we have to be willing to let go of the pain and bitterness to accept healing. As long as we allow the pain to stay and dwell in the situation, we are dwelling in hurt. In order to be transformed, it’s a daily process that we have to be willing to do to accept change and open the door to the spirits manifesting in our lives through our pain.

Pain hurts us emotionally and spiritually. We are weighted down in the spirit realm, covered with all theses little things all over our bodies, because the spirit of bitterness is a festering type of spirit. Once it sticks, it’s hard to shake because that spirit carries other spirits with it. Ask God today to help you with your hate towards your fellow man; he will release you if you’re willing to let go. ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, thank you so much for what you have done in our lives. Lord, we give you glory and honor! Lord, help us through the day; we want to be transformed. Please take our minds and hearts and create in us a clean heart. Lord, we are willing to change. Please show us the way. Lord, help us read our word more. Each day, God, we ask you to conduct our lives. We yield to you for everything please change us ; give us the faith we can change, and help us see your will for our lives; in Jesus' Name, Amen.

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REFERENCES

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+ Proverbs 10:12 Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses.

+ Proverbs 8:13 The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate.

+ Hebrews 13:1 Let brotherly love continue.

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