#I’m not higg but I might as well be

[soullessjack]

pouring out a cold one for steve yockey for trying his best to make jack an actual person and nobody else in the writers room or the fandom picking up on it . I understand you girl

#cal.txt #sorry guys I’m super fucking tired and my chest is rlly tight rn #I’m not higg but I might as well be #spn #steve yockey #spn writers #jack kline #14x06 optimism #spn 14x06 #ouroboros #spn 14x13 #this post is not about tumblr user restless hush. She gets it #I’m gonna go reblog her post about jack rn

[michwritesstuff]

You’re Not So Bad (Harry Potter: Adrian Pucey)

THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG! never finished this the way i wanted to so i cut a bit out and kept it at this, might have another part but i’m not sure yet! hope you guys like it :)

summary: hufflepuff female reader (she/her) x adrian pucey He was a Slytherin. She was a muggle born Hufflepuff. What more can I say? (get it? like sk8r boi?) anyways…Y/N is a proud and talented member of the Hufflepuff quidditch team. After one too many coincident encounters with Slytherin’s Adrian Pucey, she realizes that maybe she was wrong in her initial judgement of him and his housemates. notes/warnings: mentions of blood word count: 1.9 k

Another year at Hogwarts meant another year of getting to take the Hogwarts Express. As a muggle born you never failed to be excited by the enchanting nature of the Wizarding World. If your parents weren’t too busy with work, they would have been dropping you off themselves. Much like you, your parents loved everything about the Wizarding World and cherished the times when you needed to go to Diagon Alley.

You thanked the cab driver as he pulled up outside of King’s Cross Station and walked to the back of the car, dragging your trunk out. As you continued along through the station, you walked at a steady pace until you had reached platform 9 ¾. As nonchalantly as possible you glanced from side to side before walking directly through the platform wall. The Hogwarts Express came into view, steam whistling from the front as families lined the platform. You pushed your way through, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. Finally, Cedric and his dad came into view.

“Hey Y/N!” he called out when he saw you.

“Hi Ced, how have you been?” you asked, pulling him into a hug.

“Good, you know...taking care of this old man,” he laughed as he patted his dad on the back.

You laughed along before turning to pull Cedric’s dad into a hug.

“Y/N my girl, how are you? How are your parents?” he asked.

“They’re doing good, wish they could be here of course,” you smiled.

“Well, I’ll be sure to send them some stuff from our garden and let them know I saw you and Ced off, how about that,” Amos stated.

You smiled at him warmly before thanking him one last time.

Grabbing your trunk you followed Cedric through the train, quickly glancing around the carriages in hope of finding an empty one or finding the rest of your friends. You stumbled along behind him, a carriage door sliding open as the two of you passed.

“Diggory,” a voice called out.

You and Cedric snapped your heads around, trying to place who had spoken. None other than Marcus Flint stepped out of the carriage. You glanced inside and saw two other Slytherin quidditch players who you recognized to be Adrian Pucey and Terrence Higgs whispering among themselves.

“Suppose your ready to lose to us again this year?” Flint taunted.

“Suppose your ready for me to fly circles around you again this year?” you replied, a smirk growing across your face as Flint’s smug look was replaced by a look of disdain.

You could hear Pucey and Higgs’ giggles increase at your statement. They knew it was true. The Slytherin team was strong and known for their unfair play, but Y/N Y/L/N was one of the best flyers at Hogwarts.

“You wish Y/L/N! Gonna wipe the pitch with you mudblood,” he threatened.

Your eyes widened at the ghastly use of such a word, your eyes quickly scanning Flint and the people behind him. Pucey and Higgs’ giggles long gone. Higgs quietly looked down at the floor of the compartment, trying his hardest not to make eye contact. Pucey however, stared right back at you. His eyes held something you couldn’t quite place, sadness? No, why would he be sad, he probably just pitied you.

Cedric’s hand found your shoulder and hurried you along the corridor of the train. Finding the carriage with the rest of your friends, Cedric ushered you in. As he retold the story bout the encounter with Flint they all gasped and looked offended and disgusted by Flint’s behavior.

“He’s an asshole, we knew this already,” you stated.

“I’m fine guys, promise,” you smiled weakly.

Truth was, you were fine. Flint’s aimless name calling didn’t concern you. You were proud of who you were and who your parents were, it didn’t matter. You were going to wipe the pitch with him this season AND continue to fly circles around him. The biggest thing on your mind had nothing to do with Flint, you were too concerned with Pucey. You couldn’t erase the look on his face from your memory.

That night all previous conversation about Flint had subsided as it was replaced by conversations about the summer break and upcoming term. From laughing and joking about the first years waiting to be sorted to complaining about having Herbology with the Slytherins.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Classes were finally in full swing and the first quidditch game of the season was approaching this weekend. Unfortunately, you felt unprepared for both. Practices had been long and gruesome, and they left you with little free time for studying and getting work done. This meant hours spent in the library and sneaking into the kitchens where the house elves offered you coffee and various pastries to help you get through the long nights.

So here you were, sitting at a table with books open and sprawled out. Unused rolls of parchment lined up next to your spare quill and bottle of ink. You worked absentmindedly scrawling as much as you could about the effects of fresh mandrake juice on petrification. Ever since the incident with the Chamber of Secrets being reopened, Professor Sprout thought it useful understand the importance of utilizing the magical properties of specific plants, rather than just how to care for them. Rereading the same line for what felt like the hundredth time, your attention was interrupted by an unexpected voice.

“Room for one more?”

You looked up to find none other than Adrian Pucey to be the source of the voice, book bag hanging off his shoulder. He motioned to the seat across from you.

“Uhm, yeah let me just…” you trailed off as you attempted to gather and organize all your materials to your side of the table. Pucey lightly chuckled at your frazzled state. Sitting down and pulling his own parchment and books out, his eyes glanced over your materials.

“Working on the Herbology essay?” he asked, his eyes focused on his own parchment.

“Yeah, though I don’t know how much more I can possibly write, you?” you replied.

“Nah, I finished that the other day. My muggle studies essay on the other hand…” You glanced up to meet Adrian’s eyes at his statement, giving him a look that meant to explain.

“Mum loves plants, grew up with those bloody curlers’ and books about them,” he stated, referencing the mandrakes. You laughed at his comment, they were truly dreadful to work with.

“What’s your muggle studies essay about?” you asked curiously, eyes scanning to the top of his parchment which read Muggle Transportation.

“Have to write the about the importance of public transportation in muggle communities. Not really sure what to include, I wasn’t really paying attention these last few lessons.” You once again giggled at his explanation.

“Well then…if you help me with this herbology essay than I’ll help you with yours. Not sure if you know this, but I’m quite the muggle expert,” you mused.

“Deal,” Adrian replied, a warm smile growing on his face.

The two of you spent the next hour working on your essays and making small talk, just getting to know each other.

“Ughh I don’t think I can ever write another essay again,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing your quill across the table in the process.

Adrian laughed as he watched you pack all your things. While you gave him some background information and personal experiences about public transportation in your own community, he didn’t write much.

You continued packing until everything had found it’s place in your book bag. You stood up placing your bag on your back.

“You coming?” you asked.

Adrian looked up, eyes meeting yours. He was clearly confused as to what you meant, and to be honest, you weren’t entirely sure why you were inviting him to your secret place. There was something about Adrian, he was kind, welcoming, exciting, and most of all he felt familiar. He was easy to get along with, and from the small amount of conversation you had with him already, he was funny.

He packed his book bag and followed you out into the corridor.

“Where are you taking me Y/L/N?”

“It’s a secret, now keep up Pucey.”

He continued to follow you down a staircase and through a corridor. When you had finally reached the entrance of the kitchen you urged Adrian forward. He stared at you blankly, confused as ever. You took a step forward, now standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Reaching your hand up you tickled the pear in the middle of the portrait. The portrait swung open and revealed a warmly lit large kitchen with pots and pans draping the ceiling.

“Wow,” Adrian breathed out.

The two of you were immediately with welcoming and friendly house elves singing a chorus of “Welcome back Ms. Y/L/N” and “So good to see you Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchen Pucey,” you stated.

You thanked Winky as she handed you a warm mug of pumpkin juice and a chocolate chip muffin. Setting your stuff on the counter, you did your best to split the muffin into two equal halves. You handed a half to Adrian who greeted you with a warm smile of thanks.

“This is incredible Y/N,” Adrian mumbled out, his mouth still full with his half of the muffin.

With a wide-eyed gaze Adrian moved through the kitchen like a kid in the candy store, or similar to you at Honeydukes on a weekend trip to Hogsmeade.

“It’s pretty great. I come here during late night study sessions, if I’ve had a shitty day and I’m and feeling stressed, or if I’m just absolutely craving something when I’m in my dorm. The Hufflepuff common room is just around the corner,” you explained.

“And tonight?” Adrian asked.

“Late night study session…and stressed,” you answered chuckling before trailing off at the end.

“About what?” he asked.

“Well school for starters, and this upcoming quidditch match against Gryffindor. I mean we have a strong team and have worked hard at all are practices, but their seeker…I mean Harry is amazing. And I…I need to play phenomenally.”

“Y/N, you’re one of the most amazing flyers I know. The entire school knows this. You truly do fly circles around everyone, not just Flint,” he laughed, his tone reassuring and positive.

You recounted on the day you had first really noticed Adrian Pucey. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of your fondest memories of Hogwarts. Your parents were too busy with work to see you off and Flint had called you a mudblood. You were distracted from your thoughts when you heard Adrian’s voice.

“I’m sorry about that Y/N,” he stated rather shamefully

“You know, about that day on the train…” he continued.

“Oh uhm yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s not like you said anything. Besides, I know Flint’s just insecure about being outflown by a girl.” Adrian laughed at your statement.

“True…but still, you didn’t deserve that. That term is outdated and inappropriate, and it shouldn’t matter how you got here. You deserve to be here,” he finished.

You smiled widely at him, surprised and touched by his genuineness. Looking at the clock you realized that it was getting late, and with a mandatory team practice before breakfast, you could use all the sleep you could get.

“Uhm I should—I should get going. It’s getting late,” you stated.

“Uh yeah, thanks Y/N, you know…for showing me your secret spot.”

“Anytime Pucey.”

You followed Adrian back out of the portrait, giggling to yourself as he tripped over his own feet trying to do a cool spin. He stumbled a bit before shaking his head in embarrassment, his own laugh roaring from his chest.

“Bloody hell…I’ll catch you later Y/L/N”

“Yeah, later…” you smiled to yourself. You don’t know what it was about him, but Adrian Pucey continued to have an unexplainable effect on you.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours

Masterlist

#teentvimagines #adrian pucey #adrian pucey x reader #adrian pucey x y/n #adrian pucey imagine #hufflepuff reader #hufflepuff #adrian pucey imagines #slytherin #slytherin imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines #Spotify

[flamingplay]

Everything Everything: “I’m just trying to reflect the effect of this system on humanity”

By Max Halton

Producing music at the experimental edge of alt-pop for the last fifteen years, Manchester’s Everything Everything are no strangers to the concept album. A quick scan of the always co-ordinated, often themed outfits the band have worn on stage over the years will tell you that much. As they prepare to release their seventh record, Mountainhead, frontman Jonathan Higgs tells me that they’re no slaves to allegory either.

“As the concept guy, I like a loose concept, something big and simple rather than getting too caught up in details and narrative and stuff like that,” he tells me, hair still bleached blonde after the music video for the album’s lead single, ‘Cold Reactor’. “I don’t really like a narrative, it takes over the songs and it becomes like a musical then.”

For this reason, though it might seem like high fantasy at first, the world of Mountainhead is “extremely, extremely simple.” “Everybody and everything is focused on building one huge mountain, and it must keep growing, that’s the only thing it must do. In order to keep adding material to this mountain you have to keep digging a bigger and bigger hole next to it, and that’s where everybody lives.”

In case the parallels to late capitalism hadn’t sunk in, Higgs stresses the problem, “their lives are getting steadily worse as the mountain grows, and a lot of people have forgotten why they’re building it… It’s all about growth without any thought,” he says, laughing as he drops a phrase used online to mock capitalism’s single-minded desire for exponential growth, “line go up.”

For Higgs, it doesn’t need to be any deeper than that. In fact, it’s better that it’s not. His goal isn’t to flesh out a world, giving the project over to a story, but to stage the songs in a space that feels exciting. “The best stuff lives between exposition and pure emotion, I think too much of either isn’t as satisfying as a good balance of both. If you can open some people’s mind to a fantastical idea but then at the same time hammer them emotionally, that’s the highest goal for any art, I think.”

“You can have as many ideas as you want but if there’s no emotion there it’s a completely pointless exercise, and similarly, you can have emotion coming out of your arse but if there’s nothing cool to hang it on it’s like, OK, you might as well be James Blunt,” he laughs, “and I have nothing against James Blunt, by the way.”

This emotional engagement is central to the album, a heartstring sewn through the record to stop it falling into musical theatre or academic exercise. Although Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism provided the germ of the album, economic critique isn’t what interests Higgs. “I’m not saying anything important about [capitalism], I’m not even judging it, really. I’m just trying to reflect the effect of this system on humanity, because I think that’s the thrust of that book, he talks about what it does to people. That’s what affected me when I read it and that’s what affects people when they listen to music.”

“I don’t care what the proposed solutions are, I just care about my fellow humans and how it’s going for them because that’s my life, and my life won’t last forever. I’m reflecting what’s around me and this is what I find.”

As we talk, Higgs runs through the eclectic list of artefacts that sit alongside Mark Fisher in influencing Mountainhead. The highlighter-yellow judo robes the band wear in the videos for ‘Cold Reactor’ and ‘The Mad Stone’, dyed in Jon’s washing machine, riff on Star Wars – “Mike [Spearman, drums] said monks are a bit overdone in rock videos, let’s see if we can try something else. What do the Jedis wear underneath their cloaks?”

Online culture, which sat at the centre of 2022’s Raw Data Feel, rears its head again in ‘Dagger’s Edge’, where Higgs interpolates a Reddit comment about Land Before Time – “someone had written ‘crying hysterically about the death of Littlefoot,’ and there was something about that which sparked my imagination, so I wrote it in my notes and it came back in song form.”

Even old Everything Everything tracks get lyrical nods, not so much as easter eggs but intertextuality. “I feel like I owe it to myself to reach a hand through to my younger self and go, ‘Come on mate, I’ve got your back and I still feel like the same person,’” Higgs tells me. “Some artists get to a certain age and they change completely, but I haven’t. I still feel like I did when I wrote some of those songs and I like to use some of those ideas that never got fully explained or realised. And I don’t want to explain them, but I like to join the past with the present like that.”

“Time and prehistory, it’s always got a hand round my neck. I’m always thinking about the passage of time, being a part of history and being a part of a future.” Luckily for Jon, when you build a career referencing cults, anticapitalism, Jedis, and internet forums, you tend to find a fan base that appreciates self-referentiality.

In the spirit of looking back, I ask Jon about the band’s early days in Manchester. Higgs met Jeremy Pritchard, the band’s bassist, while studying Popular Music and Recording at the University of Salford. After graduation, they “moved out to Burton Road, started the band there, and amazingly it worked! In terms of my time at Salford, I just felt like I needed to do something and Manchester was a good place to start a band, so it kind of worked for me to come here.”

“The city’s been really good to us. I guess when we first arrived we had a bit of a chip on our shoulder, we railed against some of the Manchester bands because we were trying to do something else. We thought, ‘We don’t want to be painted with that brush because we’re trying not to be Oasis, we want to make music that’s progressive,’ or whatever. But that’s fallen away and now it makes me really proud to see our name on a list of Manchester bands, even if it’s right at the bottom.”

“The city’s really embraced us, and it’s definitely a thing of pride to be from here. Although if Newcastle want to claim half of us, they can as well, that’s where two of us are from. We belong to the North, how about that.”

Tyneside origins aside, Manchester has always been the band’s home, and it’s being treated with three shows on the Mountainhead tour: back-to-back sell-outs at New Century Hall at the end of March and a special album release show on February 26 at Stockport Plaza. With the Plaza only five minutes from Jon’s front door and guest support coming from their long-time friends Dutch Uncles, the show feels so local that it’s “quite surreal actually, I’m going to be able to walk out of my house and walk on stage.”

Being able to put on a hometown gig with your friends is a highlight of where the band is now for Higgs, relatively stable in the industry after going fully independent during the pandemic. “It’s nice to be in that kind of position. I think it’s a pretty good place, actually, Stockport. I’ve been here for a few years now and it’s got a certain reputation that it’s doing its best to shake, and I’m happy to be part of that shaking.”

This seems to be the key to Everything Everything’s constant innovation. Finding a place that feels stable, even homely, but still shaking it, always moving to make it more exciting. It’s the kind of attitude that means Jon can laugh while wondering if “maybe now we should chuck [stability] out of the window and feel out of control again, I don’t know. But right now it does feel very good, we’ve got all our own eggs in our own basket.”

It’s a commitment to innovation which means that looking back doesn’t have to restrict. Having reissued their debut album as a “nostalgia package” last year, something they’re “probably going to do when it comes around for Get To Heaven, because that deserves it,” a continued insistence on creating new albums, worlds, and sounds stops them burning out and being confined to “heritage world,” like Higgs has seen happen to some of their contemporaries.

It’s a constant desire to make good on “stepping out of genre,” which means that a band who used to cite Radiohead as the origin of everything from their name to their guitar tone now find inspiration in Obongjayar, copying, tweaking, and iterating on their sound almost endlessly in an effort to “end up somewhere no one’s been, or someone’s been but you didn’t expect it.”

Most of all, it’s an attitude which means that even as they approach their seventh album, after 15 years of writing music together, Everything Everything don’t plan on meandering on as a nostalgia act, sleepwalking into stagnation. They are still climbing the mountain.

#Everything Everything #Jonathan Higgs #Mountainhead #Dagger's Edge

[little-red-fool]

No problem, thank you so much Red! I really dont mind longer posts, but does take a bit longer for me to write up my reply in turn.

I was also the same until quite recently! I didnt know it wasnt an alias for a long time! Iirc it might be confirmed in dlc content, and I haven't yet read all of the journals that were added then.

I felt a little weird about that post, as I don't like harshly criticizing what others do in their fics (the only way I might step in is if a fic is written by an openly cis/straight person writing a trans character in an obviously transphobic way and was open to criticism too. I know I'm unfortunately not going to get through to bigots/dont want to waste my time tbh)

I'm not super strongly opionated on it either. I generally hc higgs as trans masc, but Im open to trans fem and other headcanon/interpretations too ( less so of cis higgs, its just not as interesting to me)

With that in mind, higgs would likely not have been named something as masculine as "peter" and in that case would have a different name thats likely his deadname. If we're talking transfem higgs, then "peter" could be considered a deadname for sure.

Higgs and peter both being names/aliases that he readily uses feels more in line with kojimas previous games like mgs, where he does this a bit. A character will have several names that they will go by, depending on the circumstances and time period, but to close loved ones they share a true name with, usually a first name. I usually use Higgs more frequently too, partly to not spoil newcommers to fandom on the suprise twist, if they havent played the game yet. Both feel like equally his name to me. The only uncertainty i have is that he may not in fact use "englert", because it has far more baggage depending on who from his family he got it from.

The majority of fic writers ive seen that use peter englert for higgs are either doing an au where the events that make him higgs haven't/didn't happen yet, or its a post DS au where he is rehabilitated, and using it so the UCA/regular people don't recognize that its him, so that. He can live in relative anonymity then after his crimes, and without the burden of them affecting new connections he might make.

(Personally I havent finished the book yet, but it does makes some strange divergences from the game? Like cutting out entire cutscenes that happen and making higgs really irationally angry all the time? Its very off for a novelization of a modern videogame where major parts of the story are far more acessible than like 60+ year old novels of tv and movies. I'm taking anything it with a heavy grain of salt, and just letting it add to the story if there's something that interests me and doesnt entirely contradict the game)

It’s alright! Honestly I’m in a similar boat to you, generally I prefer to HC Higgs as trans too because it feels quite fitting to me, although I’ll also swing between that and him being cis so yeah the deadnaming thing again depends on how the writer views him, but I wasn’t aware that Kojima sometimes gives characters several names in that manner as well, so thank you for that! It definitely solidifies my interpretation of the usage of his names a bit more, but the redemption fics/AUs that call him Peter make a lot of sense and I quite like those interpretations too.

#asks #death stranding #higgs monaghan #lgbtq #trans #transmasc #transfem

[vyragosa]

yeaaaaaaaaaaah...i was musing then about but now i’m sure......

higgs might really be the UCA’s scapegoat for the voidouts given that amelie is the martyr her involvement is negated in the first place, i can’t see it any other way, i wonder if he got mutilated actually well, to be a BB you would have to be anyway

[robinallender]

Books I read in 2022

Normally I try to write an individual post about every book I read, but I didn’t manage that this year. So here is a montage of all the books I didn’t manage to post about!

I loved John Higgs’ book about The Beatles and James Bond and it was a real highlight to interview him this year for Your Own Personal Beatles. I also read John’s book William Blake vs the World, which was totally revelatory and made me feel like I understood Blake for the first time; I love the idea of Blake wandering around London and coming across the ‘large and pleasant’ village of Camberwell.

I reread Nineteen Eighty-Four, Animal Farm and Coming Up for Air for the Moon Under Water special we recorded for this year’s Orwell Festival. (I only noticed this time around that the appendix of Nineteen Eighty-Four is in the past tense, but apparently everyone has already spotted that.) I also read Dorian Lynskey’s ‘biography’ of Nineteen Eighty-Four, The Ministry of Truth, which brilliantly reckons with Orwell’s contradictions and explores the ways in which the novel has been misinterpreted and co-opted since it was published.

R. C. Sheriff’s The Fortnight in September is absolutely wonderful. A kind of Zen-like ambient novel in which a family goes on holiday to Bognor Regis – and that’s it. Similarly peril-free is Leonard and Hungry Paul, a hugely uplifting novel which is a welcome antidote to, well, everything.

I read some brilliant books about music: The Sound of Being Human by Jude Rogers is part memoir, part analysis of why music means so much to us. I found it incredibly moving. Denim and Leather by Michael Hann is an hilarious, rollicking account of a folk culture unique to our isles: The New Wave of British Heavy Metal. 

We interviewed William Boyd for the Moon Under Water (episode coming soon) and it was a pleasure to read two of his ‘whole life’ novels, Any Human Heart and The Romantic.

2022 was the year in which I finally finished Finnegans Wake (started it in 2018 and kept a Twitter thread going for four years, in case you ever get really bored). Did I understand it? No, but I loved its musicality and glimmers of meaning in the dream-like gloom. Don’t we all? 

Elif Batuman’s The Idiot was the best novel I read this year. The title character, Selin, a student at Harvard in the 1990s, is not an idiot – but she is a kind of holy fool. She’s actually incredibly perceptive at spotting other people’s idiocies and pretensions (of which student life has its fair share). Above all, The Idiot is really a novel about language; the way it conceals and reveals – and is full of glowing passages like this:

I kept thinking about the uneven quality of time – the way it was almost always so empty, and then with no warning came a few days that felt so dense and alive and real that it seemed indisputable that that was what life was, that its real nature had finally been revealed. But then time passed and unthinkably grew dead again, and it turned out that that fullness had been an aberration and might never come back.

Peter Doggett’s You Never Give Me Your Money is a superb Beatles book, and perfect if you watched Get Back and want to know what happened next. Why did The Beatles break up? Doggett has a 300-page answer for you.

The Plot is an engrossing literary thriller – although I did guess the twist. Reading Four Thousand Weeks felt like a waste of time (ironic for a time management book). I found it a bit trite, but some people loved it! More edifying was the children’s classic Carrie’s War, which is absolutely brilliant and surprisingly dark.

I ended the year by reading Salinger (again). As always, I’m amazed by how it feels like I’m back in a real place with real people whenever I read his books. I want to write something longer about The Catcher in the Rye because I think it’s one of the most profound books ever written. This time I wondered if it isn’t, in some way, about nostalgia. Holden is recalling the events of the novel a year after they happened and ends it by saying, ‘Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.’

I finally got around to reading Actual Air. David Berman was a genius. His poems feel like the (mis)apprehensions of childhood – full of dream logic, strange familiarity and familiar strangeness. He was also incredibly funny, as in the poem where he meets a choreographer in New York who claims that blue jeans are ‘pretentious nineteenth-century gold rush period’ outfits.

Speaking of strangeness, I loved The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher, a brilliant study of unsettling art, from Lovecraft to Lynch. Via this book I read what I think is one of the best short stories ever written, ‘The Door in the Wall’ by H. G. Wells – an extraordinary tale of lost childhood and unattainable desire:

‘That is as well as I can remember my vision of that garden – the garden that haunts me still. Of course, I can convey nothing of that indescribable quality of translucent unreality, that difference from the common things of experience that hung about it all; but that – that is what happened. If it was a dream, I am sure it was a daytime and altogether extraordinary dream…’ 

On top of these, I read the following books:

Eclipse – John Banville Pond – Claire-Louise Bennett (again) Dance Move – Wendy Erskine Send Nudes – Saba Sams Piranesi – Susanna Clarke The Way by Swann’s – Marcel Proust Unexhausted Time – Emily Berry Transformer – Ezra Furman Some Answers Without Questions – Lavinia Greenlaw Adventures in the Skin Trade – Dylan Thomas Small Things Like These – Claire Keegan When We Cease to Understand the World – Benjamín Labatut Leave the World Behind – Rumaan Alam A Short Stay in Hell – Steven L. Peck The Apparition Phase – William Maclean

So, a total of 37! Not bad going. Next year, I plan to do things a little bit differently and will probably say farewell to this Tumblr blog (which I started in 2011!). I'm hoping to write more long-form posts, so you may see me on Substack.

Thanks for reading and happy holidays.

#books of 2022

[atlanticcanada]

'It's been really dehumanizing': Calls grow for leadership review of Blaine Higgs after Policy 713 changes

From musings about an early provincial election to calls for a leadership review, Policy 713 changes have prompted turbulence in New Brunswick politics. But for Nicki Lyons-MacFarlane, it’s much more personal.

“It has been incredibly stressful and incredibly difficult hearing trans rights being debated by our politicians,” said Lyons-MacFarlane. “It’s been really dehumanizing as well.”

“Our lives and what we’re going through every day is a topic of debate. Hearing this right-wing rhetoric being expressed by our premier has been incredibly difficult.”

Lyons-MacFarlane, chair of Imperative Youth Association in Fredericton, said weeks of coverage and discussions about Policy 713 have been exhausting. They said a snap provincial election would only elevate that.

“The majority should not decide our rights,” said Lyons-MacFarlane. “Right now our rights are being debated by cis, straight people. They shouldn’t be deciding what our rights are. We should be involved in the conversation.”

Premier Blaine Higgs has repeatedly pondered in recent days if his Progressive Conservative party dissent over Policy 713 changes would prompt a provincial election. Higgs was more coy on Friday when asked during a reporter’s scrum what the odds were of the province heading into an early election.

"I don't play the odds, actually. I don't,” said Higgs. “So, I'm not going to delve into an election philosophy."

Jean-Pierre Ouellet, a former minister in Richard Hatfield’s PC government and a party riding district association president, called for Higgs to face a party leadership review this week in a social media post, referencing controversies with the Official Languages Act, French Immersion, and health care.

Higgs said he was open to a party review of his leadership.

"If this issue has brought this to a head, I'm equally confident that I'm speaking for many parents who want a voice," said Higgs to reporters on Friday. "If that is necessitating a leadership review, I guess it'll be what it'll be."

When Social Development Minister Dorothy Shephard resigned from cabinet on Thursday, she said the decision wasn’t only about changes to Policy 713 but her overall concerns about Higgs’ leadership style since October 2021.

"I resigned because there is no process,” said Shephard. “Cabinet and caucus are routinely dismissed.”

Jamie Gillies, the coordinator of St. Thomas University’s communications and public policy program in Fredericton, said it’s not certain if Policy 713 would be the definitive campaign theme in a snap provincial election.

Gillies said the added development of eight Tory MLAs who have signaled dissatisfaction and the loss of two government votes in the legislature show “a party divided.”

“To call an election when there’s that much uncertainty within your own ranks strikes me as really rolling the dice with no idea how it might end up,” said Gillies. “Maybe Higgs is thinking on that issue alone of parental rights, there’s support out there. But I think an election campaign would not be focused on that. The opposition would make it about incoherent and incompetent leadership.”

The changes to Policy 713 are set to take effect July 1.

With files from Hina Alam of the Canadian Press and Bill Dicks of CTV Atlantic.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/h3VaxJk

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

[redshift-13]

inside the magnetic donut

At the car parking ramp exit.

A robotic female voice: Please insert ticket with the bar code facing up.

Insert ticket, ticket is pushed out, display reads ‘invalid ticket, unable to process’.

The kindly lady at the patient check-in desk gave me a free pass for the parking ramp.  I assume it was good.

Please insert ticket with the bar code facing up.

Insert ticket, ticket is pushed out, display reads ‘invalid ticket, unable to process’.  

Thinking maybe it’s a matter of the ticket reader being really sensitive to inserting tickets not perfectly perpendicular to the machine, I try again, summoning more attentional brain power.  Robot sex will be like this.

And again.  Same result.

Please insert ticket with the bar code facing up.

The ticket has a date stamp of April 12, 2023, and today is May 16.  Maybe she gave me the wrong ticket.  Maybe the ticket is the correct one, but the machine is at fault.  Maybe both.  Maybe neither and this is where the spacetime rupture beings.  We have humble biological origins, and so will this.

I just want to hit the road before the ever-earlier rush hour and the car culture gift of air pollution fills the cabin.  Speaking of, I just changed the cabin air filter recently - didn’t know you could do that.  I recommend it, it helps.

I finally hit the call button for help.  The audio connection is bad, but I think I explained myself sufficiently.  Waiting.  Waiting.  The arm goes up and I return to the mid afternoon spring day, sun and things growing, I’m freshly scanned and in digital bloom.

Earlier in the magnetic donut.  

I’m gonna put some headphones on you.  Is there any music you prefer?

Not to be a picky customer, but do you have any French language channels?  I’m studying French.

No problem.

That’s awesome, thanks.

I hear a French voice inadvertently (I assume) mixed with an east asian soundtrack.  An odd combination made more affecting by the fact I’m immobilized on my back halfway into a thick tube made by the Siemens corporation, which is also used by the physics department as a particle accelerator.  My left knee now houses a Higgs boson.

Everything has the potential to slip into the surreal if nudged in the right direction.  Shouldn’t we be pushing aside the veil of normality more often anyway?  I appreciate the happy accident.  30 seconds later the music disappears, leaving the French voice.

But now I’m only hearing it 10% of the time due to-

MRI sounds:

Standing next to a large electric substation.  For some damn reason.  Why am I doing this?  I was just out for a walk. Fuck my life.

A lightly distorted guitar string plucked repeatedly.  Could be the vamp used in every Nickelback song.  

A mechanical chugging like a muffled heavy machine gun.   

A bass guitar string plucked at 120bpm.

A perimeter intruder alert sound like from an early generation video game.  It’s the sound that’s made when the Thing That Will Kill You in 24 Hours is found, but you have to wait until next week to discuss it with your doctor.

Various 1950s scifi sound effects.

And a sound like drumming with a hard mallet, coming from an adjacent room I think.  That’s where they practice shamanic medicine.

-Which will have as good an outcome as I expect to have from people with MDs, possibly better.

We’re well beyond Civil War docs wielding hacksaws and a bottle of whiskey, but compared to where we might be in the future, we’re still somewhat primitive.  You can be told what’s wrong, at least up to a certain level of understanding, but often nothing can be done beyond treating symptoms.  

#personal

[chickawah23]

Hello! Can you explain the CERN and KK connection? I've seen CERN around but haven't looked into it, but wanna know the KK connection if you will! 😇 Thank you!

Sure. I’m going to do the simple explanation because I don’t know all the ins and out as well as some others might. CERN is a scientific organization that is full of physicists who have been trying to essentially recreate the Big Bang so they can better understand the universe. In 2012 physicists discovered the Higgs Boson particle that led them to running these tests. They run these tests using a large hadron collider. The collider just slams proton beams together at extremely high speeds for like 4 years. And physicists just watch and take note of what happens. Technically every time the particles collide tiny black holes open but they disappear quick which is interesting. But like most scientific experiments we are limited by our current level of knowledge when it comes to interpreting or understanding what is happening. Or the repercussions of what they were doing. So there is a running joke or theory that each time CERN turned on the collider we as in the planet jumped timelines. So I was just musing along with that joke/theory that when the LHC was fired up and running in 2018 Karlie got married.

#anons

[valiantdust]

What We Became - Chapter 4

Read the latest chapter on ao3.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 4 of my Hearstopper fic, What We Became:

The head’s office was painfully familiar to Nat as she looked around, from the school pictures, to the trophy case, to the bay windows that allowed a soft yellow light to bathe the room. She was sat in the same horrible chair, the one that sent her sinking down into its cushioned depths, forcing her to look up at Mrs Lemaire’s stony expression.

The headmistress scrutinised her carefully. “Back so soon, Natalie?”

Nat didn’t reply.

Mrs Lemaire sighed. “So, it’s PE you’re struggling with now, is it? I’m afraid I have to inform you, Natalie, that all Higgs students are required to play netball during the Spring Term. You can’t avoid sport as well as school uniform.”

Although the voice in her head was screaming, shouting, desperate to burst out and tell Mrs Lemaire exactly where she could stick herself, Nat remained silent. She had to be tactical – whatever that meant.  

“You need to answer me at some point, Natalie,” said the headmistress. “Or I will simply send you back to class and that will be the end of the matter.”

Nat took a deep breath. “I am not struggling with PE, miss. I’m struggling with the fact that there is no option for me to do anything other than netball. Or rather, the school is struggling to offer any kind of variety in its PE programme that might entice more girls to take up sport.”

“You are in no place to criticise the sports on offer at Higgs. We are an academic institution, so do not be surprised when we do not cater to every whim of every budding sportsperson who passes through this school.”

“Truham is an academic institution, and it still manages to offer something other than netball,” Nat pointed out.

“That is neither here nor there.”

“It’s just down the road, actually. I can see the playing fields from the netball courts.” Nat stopped, taken aback by her own audacity.

If Mrs Lemaire was furious, she managed to conceal it, eyes fluttering closed as she took a deep breath. “Well, you are not at Truham, are you Natalie?”

#Heartstopper #heartstopper fic #heartstopper fanfic #heartstopper spoilers #charlie spring #nick nelson #nick and charlie #alice oseman #osemanverse #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3feed #my writing

[glowyjellyfish]

Dear Girl Genius fandom:

Thanks for the warm welcome!

Technically, the first time I read this was oof, a decade ago sometime during Hogfarb’s Resplendent Immolation. And I probably reread it a couple of times between then and the last time before now, which was post-time-skip, just before boarding the train. So it’s been a while, and I’d say that while I read and enjoyed it those times, it is really hooking me this time; never before did I start theorizing and making fanmixes and buying audiobooks, and I never participated in the fandom before, beyond maybe reading the TVTropes page.

The fun part about having approximate knowledge of some things is that I have no idea where any of my reactions for this reread came from. For example, Higgs. On this reread, once my memory was jogged regarding him, I was absolutely certain that he was some kind of Jaeger the whole time, and I cannot for the life of me tell whether that’s because of however much information I had from the last time I read, or if I read it on TVTropes or what. I also have zero clue right now how much was actually revealed about him at the last point I remember reading to, you understand--I just reread the thing but there’s so much of it, scenes fade fast and lose their correct order in my memory. I know I didn’t have the full Higgs story yet, but that’s all I am sure of.

(And I used Higgs as an example because he is great, but also because the decade-old discussion I am reading circles around to him sometimes and it is equal parts “lol they haven’t figured it out yet!” amusing and “omg you guys he literally calls sparks smart guys right there what more do you want as proof” frustrating and I wanted to mention that.)

The other theories I subscribe to but make no claim to have thought up myself are: Skifander’s on Mars and Gil is Zeetha’s twin; Geisters are from the moon. Um, I think there is probably a distinct change in Lucrezia before and after the attack on the castle, but I haven’t decided yet to what degree I think Other-Lucrezia is just her with all the breaks cut, turned up to eleventy billion, and having Gone Through Some Shit, or if there’s some truly external factor beyond the possibility of time travel madness and the like. I’m leaning towards the former but not betting on either right now.

The Wasped Moloch theory is the only one I am really sure I thought of myself, and it’s very interesting testing it. I’ll admit I completely forgot about the entire sequence where Gil makes an inoculation with notes—Tarvek’s notes I think, but I didn’t go back that far—but there is still a massive difference between small-scale inoculation, created in a lab by a spark, and a cure accessible enough that a random ordinary poor soldier/mechanic/prisoner might have accidentally cured himself without ever realizing he had a problem. And having remembered about the inoculation, I feel that if this theory is correct, then “curing himself via one of the strange things he has drunk” seems way more likely than “natural immunity”, but I wouldn’t be surprised if natural immunity is assumed for a while and/or tested for.

Also of note is that Snaug is probably a revenant, given her behavior around Lucrezia-in-Agatha, and if so that whole scene can be used to point out that everyone else in the room were definitely not. It can’t be considered actual evidence yet, but if Moloch emerges from that time bubble and is clocked as a revenant by a weasel or something, that would mean the theory’s more or less correct because there’s really no time for him to get wasped during the course of the comic, as far as I can tell. And the evidence of Snaug could be something that alerts characters to the theory?

I also noticed that Moloch really does not blindly obey Agatha at all, and what makes him such a good minion is that he knows her well enough to trust and respect her and obey her for that reason, he’ll follow her orders out of fear or self-preservation, but he also does not hesitate to refuse or question her orders when he has a reason. He’s an excellent natural minion because he takes orders but still thinks for himself, which is an interesting contrast to the revenants whether the theory is correct or not.

...but then, I may have been paying just a leetle too much attention to him over the course of hunting down anything resembling support for my theory.

#girl genius

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Let’s Talk about Quantum Mechanics

I love Quantum Mechanics. It’s by far my favourite branch of physics for the very simple reason that it’s fucking bananas. Like, it’s legitimate to interpret the maths in a way that suggests we live in a constantly branching multiverse where every action in which different outcomes are possible leads to the creation of an entirely new universe- the ‘many worlds’ interpretation. But it’s equally legitimate to interpret the maths in a way that suggests a particle occupies every conceivable state simultaneously (though not with equal values of probability) until something happens to cause its wave-function to collapse, at which point only one action is taken within a single universe. So… infinite multiverse or particles existing in multiple places and states simultaneously to accommodate the same range of possibilities. Or some combination of both, since we’re fairly certain that particles exist as probabilistic wave-distributions regardless of whether we live in one universe or many. Like I said: bananas. And the thing is, everything I just said is a wild oversimplification and might be slightly off the mark, because I’m not a physicist. The fun thing is that, even if my depiction of the theory is sketchy and rough, the actual full complexity of reality would be much, much more bananas, not less. Which is awesome.

The thing about Quantum Mechanics is that people tend to give up trying to understand it, especially because all the famous quotes about it relate to how insanely complicated it is and how it doesn’t conform to our intuitive understanding of reality and is, thusly, impossible to picture. Hands up who’s heard the line “If you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don’t understand quantum mechanics”? Well, it’s probably true that a layman like you or I is never going to be able to wrap our heads around the maths, which is what justifies all the bananas-ness of Quantum Mechanics. However, I think the idea that we can’t conceptually grasp it or visualise it is absolute drivelling bunkum that does nothing but contribute to a sense of false mysticism around a fact of our physical reality that we should all make some effort to wrap our heads around. Our concepts and visualisations might compare to reality more like an impressionist painting than a photograph (because, again, we’re not physicists), but for us lay-people that’s probably sufficient. I don’t really have the time or specialised knowledge required to talk you through picturing every aspect of Quantum Theory, but as an interested amateur with a fairly solid conceptual grasp of the ideas, I can give you a reasonable grounding in the basics. To return to the analogy of a moment ago, I can’t show you photographs of the true nature of reality, but I can share my impressionist sketches with you and help you get one step closer to conceptually grasping the quantum universe.

Let’s start at the beginning. The word ‘quantum’ sounds very, very cool, but it just refers to the principle that reality is made of indivisible integer units of fundamental, elementary stuff. Or, to put it another way, subatmomic reality is quantised in whole numbers: you can’t have half an electron or 12% of a Higgs Boson. That’s pretty important, but not immediately so, so just stick in the back of your noggin and we’ll come back to it.

Now, the other major precept of Quantum Mechanics is that particles aren’t solid units of matter in the way that we understand in the macrocosm- I’m not just talking about probability distribution (though we’re getting to that). I’m talking about the fact that most fundamental particles in our reality aren’t really separate from space-time at all, but are actually excitations in fundamental fields that exist at every point in space-time. What is a fundamental field? Well, here’s where I can help you visualise shit! Imagine a flat surface, but give that surface the ability to flow and move and form different patterns. Maybe picture it as a lake of quicksilver, or as a sheen of shimmering colours. It doesn’t really matter- this is an analogy, not a literal representation of what’s happening. Now, imagine that something happens to disturb that flat surface. It forms a spike like a very, very localised wave- as though someone threw a big rock into it. N.B. Nobody threw a big rock- stop picturing the quantum world filled with tiny elves throwing rocks (this note is as much for my benefit as yours- I’m a whimsical man). Anyway, the surface is a fundemanl field and that spike- that deformation of the flat surface- is a particle. Now, this is where things get tricky. Imagine that there are lots and lots of flat surfaces- one for every fundamental particle- all existing at the exact same point, overlapping one another. One surface- one field- is for electrons, while another is for Higgs Bosons and another is for photons, etc. Now, with the mind’s eye, zoom out. This set of flat surfaces is just one point in space-time. You can zoom out infinitely and see that there is an identical set of surfaces for every point in all of space-time. Every excited, deformed surface is a particle, and every flat, tranquil surface is empty space. Boom. If you can picture that, you have a basis for visualising the essential connection between particles and the universe they exist in. You have also grasped, visually, that there is no distinction between matter and energy at this scale, because fields just described are both points in space-time and particles (which make up matter) and the only difference is, well, energy.

Okay, that’s a pretty good way to visualise one aspect of Quantum Mechanics (probably not the best way- get an actual physicist to yell at you about the inaccuracies of this model sometime), but it’s good enough for us muggles. There is, however, two problems with it. First and foremost, it makes the imaginary surface ‘flat’ and therefore two-dimensional in order to make an excitation in that surface easier to picture. Points in space-time are not two-dimensional. Fundamental fields are not flat. But that’s okay. Our first visualisation was just to help you understand how particles exist and what they are. Now that you’ve got the general idea, instead try picturing the fundamental fields as a sort of mist with pretty average distribution. The mists swirl and coagulate suddenly as energy is pumped into them (don’t worry about from where) and become denser and more coherent and suddenly there’s a perfect sphere in the mist, formed from the mist yet distinct from it. This sphere is our three-dimensional version of the spike; it is a particle. Of course, particles aren’t really spheres either- it doesn’t make sense to talk about them as having shape at all, in fact. Nor are fundamental fields mists- they’re more like invisible zones of potentiality. However, the human brain can’t picture something without giving it a shape and colour and it doesn’t hurt anything to picture a particle as a sphere or the field from which it emerged as a mist. In fact, as analogies go, it’s very serviceable. It allows you to visualise a process that doesn’t have a direct analogue in a macroscopic cosmos. So, for the purposes of analogy, the mist is a field that can be excited and that excitation is a spheroid fundamental particle. Congratulations. Your first visualisation allowed you to understand the process and the second has allowed you to make it three-dimensional.

Of course, I said there was two problems with the initial model that we used, and now it’s time to address the second and trickier one. You see, points in space time (whether you imagine them as surfaces or misty areas) aren’t like pixels on a screen, and nor are the particles that emerge from them. They’re not discreet things with definite, defined locations. We have to accept that our nice, neat sphere doesn’t actually have a defined location in space-time connected to a neat point. We talk about ‘points’ in space-time because it makes it easier to picture fields filling each point and allows you to visualise the way excitations in one particular place create particles. But now that you understand that, you’re ready to upgrade your visualisation of the particle itself. You see, the particle is a particle, but it’s also a wave. It exists not as a single, solid mass but as a distribution of probabilities. Did that sentence make sense? No? Okay, let me explain. Imagine that our sphere is actually lots of transparent, insubstantial spheres, moving through one another, overlapping, dividing, collapsing into one another. Some of the moving, spheres appear more substantial than others. And the really trippy thing? They’re all really the same sphere! What you’re looking at, in your mind’s eye, is a particle existing in multiple places and moving at different speeds, all at the same time. It is more likely to be in some spots than the other, which is why some of the sphere-instances are more solid-looking than others. It is less likely to be in other places yet- in a sense- it is there too. This is what is meant by ‘probability distribution’. If the particle is observed or measured- that is, if it interacts with a system that brings it into observable contact with our macrocosmic world- it will cease to act like a wave and cohere at any of the points within its probability distribution, becoming a single, solid ball again in our mind’s eye. This is what scientists mean (well, roughly) when they talk about the ‘collapse of the wave-function’. According to the Copenhagen interpretation of Quantum Mechanics, this essentially ‘deletes’ the non-used possibilities. According to Many Worlds (or some versions thereof), they persist in other universes. The maths works out either way.

Now, every single fundamental particle in existence- from the odd lone ones drifting through the infinite night of space to the very densely-packed ones that make up your own body- are all doing the same thing all the time: existing as fuzzy regions of uncertainty until something collapses their wave-functions. When they interact with one another, they become larger regions of uncertainty that are less fundamental particles, which can interact with one another to become even less fundamental until you eventually get protons and neutrons partnering up with electrons to form atoms, which make up… well, everything in the universe that you’re familiar with. Where the transition happens between ‘buzzing region of quantum uncertainty’ and ‘actual solid thing’…  I have no idea. Somewhere around the large-molecule stage, maybe? Seriously, I told you I wasn’t a physicist. However, I hope that by sharing my own visualisation with you, I’ve helped you picture Quantum Mechanics- or, rather, the very basic building blocks of Quantum Mechanics- just a little better. Doubtless, my visualisations are sketches, not photographs, but they are proof that there is nothing conceptually inaccessible about Quantum Mechanics. All it takes is an imaginative leap.

DISCLAIMER: Like I said, these are sketches of how QM works intended for lay-readers like me, not a complete and totally accurate description. However, I have striven to avoid wild inaccuracies and blatant untruths. If anyone spots anything that I’ve just gotten spectacularly, amazingly wrong (outside the necessities of analogy, I mean), let me know so I can put up a correction.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #quantum mechanics #quantum #quantum science #atoms #quarks #bosons #higgs boson #particle physics #physics

[thehmn]

I used to watch my brother play the Metal Gear Solid games and it’s actually really interesting to look at Hideo Kojima’s games in the context of how homosexuality is viewed in Japan.

I’m not going to speculate on Kojima’s own sexuality, I’ll leave that to himself, but his games are famous for being very horny, homoerotic and having a ridiculously high number of bisexual male characters. People will point out that they’re all villains, but that’s just the explicitly bisexual characters. His two main characters, Snake from Metal Gear Solid and Sam from Death Stranding, are also implied to not be straight.

This is where Japanese culture and the extensive lore of Kojima’s works comes in.

Homosexuality is taboo in the west and Japan for different reasons. In the west it’s seen as sinful, but in Japan it’s seen as disruptive. Don’t make a fuss. Don’t call attention to yourself in any way. Don’t mess with the status quo. Most queer people choose not to come out to their families for this reason. And to make matters worse, even if a small majority of Japanese people are in favor of queer people having rights the government is very conservative and it’s even illegal to depict homosexuality positively in some parts of Japan.

So what does Kojima do to appease his government and the culture of his people? He does what people did in Hollywood in the 30’s and make the explicitly bisexual characters villains and make his heroes covertly bisexual.

Kojima always had an interest in sexuality and gender. In high school he wrote a story where all women succumbed to an illness, leaving the men unsure of how to continue. Remember, at the time the majority of women in Japan quit their jobs when they got married and took care of their husband and children. So who was supposed to take care of the house and their sons? Could men just stop craving intimacy or would they have to turn to each other? And how would they make more babies? I’ll get back to that.

One of the most famous scenes in Metal Gear happens when Snake disguise himself as Ivan, the lover of Volgin. Volgin walks up to what he assumed to be his lover and grabs his crotch, looks confused, grabs him again and asks “Who are you? I know the major better than anyone else” Volgin and Ivan are undoubtedly villains, but their love for each other is surprisingly the most human thing about them. If Snake puts on Ivan’s mask during his bossbattle with Volgin, Volgin will hesitate at first, then double his attacks in anger, but also cry because he’s trying to kill a man with his boyfriend’s face.

Snake/Otacon is the most heavily implied relationship in the whole series that hasn’t been confirmed. In the first game Snake could end up with Otacon at the end, and since then they’ve moved in together, raised a child together, talked at length about how they taught each other to love, teased each other about their libido, and the list goes on. They also notably get call-backs to two other canon romantic couples; Raiden and Rosemary when Otacon tells Snake that he won’t be let back inside before he takes a shower (Rosemary wouldn’t let Raiden back in because he got pee on him), and Volgin and Ivan when Otacon says he knows Snake better than anyone else. My point being, Snake and Otacon are very heavily implied to be a bisexual couple.

Then there’s Death Stranding. The game is definitely written by a more mature Kojima who has been hanging out with a lot of Americans. His view of sex and love is more nuanced and he understands that there’s a difference between sexual and romantic orientation. We still got Higgs, a flamboyant villain who acts very predatory and is heavily implied to be bisexual, though never confirmed, and Sam who’s implied to be asexual (he has an Ace of Spades sticker on his bike) and biromantic, and we get our first confirmed good bisexual character, Die-Hardman.

Kojima never got to play around with gender much in Metal Gear Solid, but he made up for that in Death Standing. Remember that story he wrote in high school? We see a lot of inspiration from that here. The solution the men came up with for having healthy babies in the story was to have men carry pods around on their stomachs where the fetus could grow in the most natural way possible.

There’s still women in Death Stranding but there’s a lot of men carrying babies around on their stomachs, men forming family unions, and the main character Sam acts more like a stereotypical mother than father. There’s literally a scene where Deadman puts a hand on Sam’s pod like it’s a pregnant belly and basically asks him “The three of us are a family, aren’t we?”

Sam later tries to give the baby to a woman, Fragile, but she only sees it as babysitting and gives it back, so Sam gives it to Deadman who declares it “our little one”.

By the end of the game the three of them are seen together, depicted as two parents holding their child. Throughout the game people are constantly trying to hug and touch Sam but in the end the only person who gets a hug is Deadman.

It’s also worth noting that in the universe of Death Stranding Sam and Deadman are believed to be a couple before they actually are. Deadman made sure of that so no one would question why they spend so much time together.

There will no doubt be more bisexual men in Kojima’s next game, and I’m curious to see if there’ll be any development in how openly he depictes queer characters. He’s a middle aged man so no matter what his own sexuality might be I don’t expect him to easily shake the expectations of Japanese society off, but he has started hanging out with a lot of Danes, most notably Nicolas Winding Refn who despite making extremely violent movies is very open minded and has, when asked, been very honest about his own sexuality (to spare you the pain of digging though Danish interviews, he’s a straight, slightly bi-curious man with an interest in BDSM, but who’s also satisfied leaving a lot of his fantasies to his imagination because his movies gives him an outlet for a lot of it).

You can see a lot of Scandinavian/Nordic influences in Death Stranding and I’d be surprised if Nicolas didn’t expose Kojima, intentionally or unintentionally, to the Scandinavian view of homosexuality. I can best describe it with a news report I once saw on national television. Parents were worried about a dangerous road that their children had to cross every day to get to school but the government wasn’t doing anything about it. The parents they interviewed were a gay couple but they were treated exactly like any other worried parents. No fuss, no spectacle. Please think of the safety of these parents’ children.

I can imagine that approach would go over very well with a middle aged Japanese man who clearly wants queer people to be able to live happy, fulfilling lives with families and children but doesn’t seem to want to upset his society.

Other people have pointed out that Kojima and Nicolas seem to inspire each other a lot and have taken an interest in each other’s cultures, and Nicolas was the first person to announce publicly that he’d be in Kojima’s next game, so I’m really interested in seeing what that will do, if anything, to how comfortable Kojima is with depicting his queer characters. Something certainly happened once he started socializing with a lot of Americans.

I am of course not saying Kojima is a saint who’s doing everything right, but he is an interesting guy to follow.

#hideo kojima #metal gear solid #death stranding #long post

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I’m Here

CW: Negative stimming including stimming resulting in self-injury, pet whump, death of parents, grief, ableism, past noncon references, r*pe survivor having severe PTSD flashbacks, memory of shock collars, derogatory language, dehumanization, meltdown/panic attack, whump of a minor referenced repeatedly. 

This is Chris in a very dark place - stay safe.

Directly follows Found Out, Akio, and Chris Sees.

Come on, 223499-

I'm Tristan! My, my, my name is Tristan, Tristan H-Higgs and I l, I, I live at-... but, um, no, no, at my, my my aunt's ap, apartment now-

Tristan Higgs is a fucking corpse, kid. You don't have a name anymore.

No, I'm, my, my name is, is, is-is-

 Your name is for your prospective to choose. Now let me show you how we shut you up.

 The boy is screaming, twisting, writhing in pain on the floor, clawing at the black collar around his neck, desperate to somehow escape it, but there isn’t any way out. He digs his fingernails down his skin but it’s still there, the collar never leaves, you’re only safe with your collar on, no wait that hadn’t happened yet-

Oh, that’s nice. Time for the Drip for you. 

N-no, no-

Welcome home, 223499.

M-my name is, is, is Tristan-

Chris slams the door on his way into the bathroom, locks it behind him, sweeps everything off the counter with a crash, plastic bottles of soap bouncing, a toothpaste container clicking against the tile, the toothbrush holder shattering and sending shards of ceramic pale on one side and rainbow-painted on the other everywhere. He stares at them clicking over the floor before they stop, some of them skimming the tile all the way to the wall. 

Inside his head, there is a cry, bubbling up behind the wall that his life has been hidden behind, deep inside the cold pale light that all the worst things drown in. 

Beneath the Drip, the needle in his arm, beneath the pain, the fear, the hands that moved over him and the bodies that moved inside him and the voice in his ear whispering, pet, pet, pet until he was one, until he wasn’t anything else any longer, until he was ready to be overwritten.

My, my, my name is Tristan Higgs, my name is, is, is Tristan, my name is-

Didn’t I tell you Tristan Higgs is dead, trainee? All that’s left of you is my pretty little whore. You wanted it so bad you signed up for this. Now get on your knees and show your handler some respect.

No, pl-please, please I don’t-, I, I, I don’t want to, I-

What you want doesn’t matter anymore, 223499. 

Please-

What you want is irrelevant, trainee. Now let me show you what I want.

Inside his head there is a boy, screaming, his wrists forced down by larger hands, body rocked in a rhythm of terrible pain while a stranger who will be his entire world whispers in his ear, I paid extra for this and you did not disappoint, darlin’.

There’s a boy alone in a white room, painting with his own blood on pristine white walls, just to see color, just to see something, anything, that isn’t nothing at all. There’s a boy, alone, whispering apologies to the parents he is losing, their memories slip-sliding under the surface until they are gone.

There is a boy, screaming.

Chris screams with him, their voices in tandem, in echo, but it's the same voice, and the scream was always him, always Tristan Higgs inside him, buried beneath it all.

Chris screams until his throat is raw, bashes his hands into the mirror until it rattles under his fists, rocks forward to knock his head into it. Again, and again, and again, rattling it inside the frame, trying to force a break. The chaos inside him is too much, too strong, and at the center of the train tracks is her face, always her face, her hands, her lips moving and fighting to speak, her face. 

 I love you, baby, I l-love you, it's okay, it's okay-

 Mom, please, pl-... please, no, no no no, I’m, I’m s-sorry, I’m so so sorry, I’m, I’m sorry-

 Sssshhh, baby, it’s-... it’s okay, it’ll b-be okay, Tris, Mommy loves you, h-honey, Mommy-... loves you s-so much-... Her eyes shining like marbles, her blood on the wall, burbling from her chest as she fought and fought to breathe and then she stopped and her eyes, her eyes stayed open…

 He laid with her and she was so cold and no one came to help him and no one came and they were both so cold and he stayed with them all night, wailing into her shirt soaked in blood, into his side, laid down between them and tried to keep them warm with blankets but they were gone and it didn’t matter and it was-

 If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive.

 His aunt looks at him with hate or stares through him and there’s no routine and there’s no therapy and Aki is gone and his phone is gone and he hurts himself desperately just to feel something other than the chaos and the noise and the cracking, shrieking angry pain inside him, the guilt the blame the hate and oh, how he hates himself for not staying still the one time it counted and no one is coming and no one loves him anymore because they’re gone and his aunt doesn’t love him because he should never have been born-

 If he weren’t born she’d still be alive-

 "It's not okay!" He screams again, tearing at his hair, clawing at his arms, dragging deep red welts down on each side, trying to dig the pain out from inside of him. “It’s not okay, it’s, it’s, it’s not, it’s, it’s not, not, not, not-not-not, not okay, not-”

 Please, pl-please, let, let, let me go-

 Told you to stop rocking, didn’t I? You did this to yourself. Be still, statue boy.

 Pl-please, I, I don’t know how-

 You’ll learn.

 His head snaps to the side with the imagined memory of a slap to the face, his breath catches with the pale shade of the shock collar lighting him up, nerves sparking shrieking agony, the needle in his arm, it's in his arm again this isn’t freedom he’s just gone crazy from drugs again and he’s on the Drip again and he was never not on the Drip he was, was never free no one saved him no one is coming-

 He rocks forward, again and again, banging his head into the mirror until there's blood, until it cracks, bad luck for seven years, Tris, sucks to be us, and they laughed, the two of them, carefully picking the shards up to put in the wastebin and Aki grinned at him, unbothered, because his mom would probably forgive them and it wasn’t a big deal-

 Let’s, let’s, let’s make up a, a routine, Aki, yeah?

 Yeah, sure, but can we like… be normal teenagers for a half-hour first?

 Um, how, how do we-

 I thought we might start by watching TV and not doing our homework. You know, get crazy with it. Maybe even go super crazy and eat leftover pizza.

 Chris's lips curl back from his teeth and he stares at himself in the mirror, his wide green eyes and pale eyebrows that darkened a little with age, blue hair that hangs around his face, frames the lines of his cheekbones. The gash along his forehead where he hit the mirror hard enough to open it, bright red blood welling up and slowly seeping out.

 He lifts one hand, pressing his fingertips to the crack in the mirror that matches the cut in his forehead. There’s a little bit of blood there, and it smears under his fingers. For a second, he’s fascinated by it, the liquid that slips along, ripples his reflection.

 It doesn’t feel like part of him. It’s just something he can control, when he can’t control anything else.

 Behind him, the doorknob rattles, but Chris barely notices. “Chris?” It’s Jake’s voice, and Chris swallows, ignores the push, the urge, to let him in. Instead he keeps looking at himself, tries to see the boy inside his head, the boy in the room, under the men, the boy screaming in his head while his mouth learned to say all the words they wanted.. 

 Come here, pretty-... oh, look at you, so full of tears for me, hm? 

 On your back, gorgeous boy.

 On your knees, pretty pet.

 What you want doesn’t matter anymore.

 No isn’t an option for you any longer.

 Don’t I always give you options, pretty thing? You can choose to be good, my good little slut, or…

 “You, you, you can choose pain,” Chris whispers, finishing the sentence that started in his handler’s voice, in his mind. “Too, too, too… pretty to, to be for anything else. Too pretty… too, too pretty for, for, for…”

 He nails the dismount for the first time on the the bars, his body does exactly what he wants, and he looks up to see his mom cheering for him, and he jumps up and down, hands moving, rocking with his happiness, and his team cheers for him, and his scores are really good so he can go to state and he’s so happy-

 He’s so happy-

 She’s so proud of him-

 There’s a hand in his hair, jerking his head back to look up at his Sir, who smiles down at him, and Tristan can barely see him through his tears. He’s tied down and he can’t escape and he doesn’t know it’s his Sir, yet, he was still Tristan then but his Sir’s hand is in his hair and he whispers, God, I love that you came already flexible for me, sweetheart…

 Please, n-no, please, I don’t want, want this, please, I-I-I don’t, I, I-... I need h-help, I didn’t… sign, yet, please call, call, call the the the-the cops-

 Sssshhh. Sir’s finger to his lips, and he didn’t dare bite, even then. Hands on his wrists, forcing them down against the table. His back arches, trying to get away, and his Sir laughs at him, low soft chuckle, and boy weeps, turning his head to the side. You’re going to be perfect, sweet boy, I can already tell.

 No, no, no no no, no, pl-please don’t, please, please, no, no, g-god, oh oh oh god, oh god, no-

 I paid extra for this, and you did not disappoint.

 The pain, when it comes, is blinding and never-ending and Tristan Higgs is screaming. 

No one cares.

No one will come to save him.

 Chris groans, pulling at his hair, trying to rip it out by the roots to settle his jangling shrieking nerves, scratching his fingernails down his cheeks as deep sa he can, smacking his hands again and again into the broken mirror, shrieking at the pretty face split apart by the cracks. A piece of the mirror falls out into the sink, and Jake is still talking, trying to open the door, but Chris isn’t listening.

 He can’t hear Jake over the sound of his own mind turning against him, spitting memories he’d thought were gone, but no, dead things don’t always decay, sometimes they just wait to come back and tear out your throat and show you how it’s all your fault.

 What about you, Tris? Mrs. Nakamura’s voice is gently teasing, soft and unassuming. She’s sitting with a book in a soft cozy chair somewhere with nice warm lights, and everyone watches Tristan’s hands move to tap on himself without judgement, without shame. We all know Aki can’t take his eyes off of that pretty Nicole girl-

 Mom. No. Please, please do not talk about this. Oh my god. She’s just my teammate!

 I’m just being silly, Aki. 

 It’s, um, it’s okay, Mrs. Na, na, Nakamura. I’m just-... nobody for, for, for me, right now. Tristan’s face is red, he’s blushing, and he hasn’t really thought about it much, beyond just thinking everyone is pretty, but he hasn’t told his mom yet, and-

 Oh, well, maybe later. You two are so busy getting ready for state, anyway. 

 He can hear Jake back on the stairs, now, thumping down them and away, and Chris’s hands move rapidly over the sink and counter, avoiding the bits of shattered mirror. He’s standing in ceramic but he doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care. His body doesn’t belong to him, anyway, his body belongs to his handler his owner his rescuer his anyone but him it’s not his it’s not his body, they took his body and he doesn’t get it back…

 He wants his body back.

 He yanks open the drawer, shoving through the disposable shaving razors that Jake buys, the nail-clipping kit he keeps in here, a stupid little comb that he can’t see any use for, rolls of gauze and bandages, tossing them to the floor, until he finds what he’s looking for. 

 A pair of scissors, used mostly for gauze and bandages, big shining metal scissors that weigh heavy in his hands.

 Chris stares up at himself in the remaining mirror, pulls a hank of his hair out straight with one hand, and clips right through it with the scissors. He lets out an exhale, and grabs another bit of hair, and does it again.

 Blue drifts down to gather with the broken glass in the sink and on the floor, piling higher and higher as Chris keeps cutting, staring into his eyes and not looking at how even the cut is. He looks at the bloody mess on his forehead-

 Mom, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I, I, I moved, I’m so so sorry, I’m sorry…

 It’s okay, baby-

 Blood on the wall, he stayed there all night and no one came. She was cold, he couldn’t keep her warm all by himself.

 “It’s, it’s not okay,” Chris whispers, and Sir’s hand is heavy on his neck, look at how you ruined yourself since you left me, darlin’, but his Sir can’t stop him because his Sir is dead, too. Everyone who cares for him dies but Jake and Antoni and Laken and maybe they’ll die, too, because of him, because he’s too pretty to be for anything else-

 There’s blood on the featureless white wall and he pulls it through his fingers and it’s something that’s not white, he barely recognizes it as his blood, it’s just bright red and feels good under his fingers, the blood cools and dries so he hits his head and makes more, and more, and more-

 He keeps cutting, until what’s left is a shaggy, unkempt mess, different lengths all over, and all his hard-won long hair is gone. He has wisps that hang over his forehead, little bits that tickle the tops of his ears. He cuts until it’s just little scruffs, barely blue at all. 

 He drops the scissors into the sink on top of the pile of blue hair, runs his hands back through his hair, watches more loose bits drift slowly downward.

 He lifts his hands and takes out his piercings, one by one, dropping them into the sink with the hair, until his ears are bare, too, and his eyebrow. Nothing but a thin narrow face, nothing but freckles that stand out too much, nothing but big eyes and chin. 

 He pulls his shirt off over his head, and then his compression shirt. Takes off his pants and his boxers and then straightens to stare at himself naked in the bit of mirror still left.

 “I, I’m good for you,” He whispers, tilts his head just right, looks up at himself through his eyelashes. His look is warm and liquid and well-trained, a show of desire he’s never once felt. He bites down on his lower lip, just so, hand moving as if to brush a bit of hair back - but the hair he might have touched is gone, it’s in the pile in the sink. 

 The look is ruined by what he’s done.

 Good.

Wide green eyes, yeah, let’s see those eyes nice and empty for me, trainee, but they’re red-rimmed and shadowed, full of pain. His eyelashes - inhuman, unearthly, pretty boy - are barely visible. Freckles that stand out too much, I’m going to kiss every single one until you understand how beautiful you are, Chris, okay? scattered over his nose and the angled cheekbones. Narrow chin, perfect for gripping and moving his head around, smeared with drying blood. Bleeding from the slash across his forehead, running slowly down to stain his pale eyebrow darker, to run into his left eye, what the fuck did you do to yourself, trainee?

 “Not, not a trainee,” Chris whispers. “Not a, a pet. Not Tristan. Not, not, not. I’m, I’m Chris, I made myself, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m... I’m I’m Chris, I’m, I’m Christopher fucking Stanton, I’m-... I’m Chris.”

 Big scratches down his cheeks, his neck, bright red welts that might turn to bruises, that he could open into bleeding, he could make himself so ugly no one ever wants him again. “Not, not, not so pretty anymore,” He whispers, and his throat closes up against the words, but it feels good, it feels important. “Not, not, not pretty, now.”

 Not worth dying over, not worth breaking, not worth noticing, not worth taking, not worth buying, not worth rescuing, not worth being arrested for, not worth saving, not pretty enough to hurt, not pretty enough to love. 

 You fucking freak, I don’t know how Ronnie managed to think you were so great, you can barely brush your own teeth.

 How the hell did she love you? You ruined her life.

 If it weren’t for you...

 The door suddenly jolts open, and Chris doesn’t flinch - he doesn’t look back - only stares at himself, rocking slowly forward and back on his toes and heels until his head bumps the cracks in the glass like the cracks inside of him, his hands twisting at the ends of his wrists to smack rhythmically into his sides, his hips, harder and harder, fighting to find the same soothing rush that motions like this normally bring. 

 It’s too loud, inside of him. It’s too much. He can’t stop the trains roaring up out of the light, bringing everything into the darkness where he only wants to hide.

 “Holy shit, Chris,” Jake whispers, standing behind him, eyes wide with shock. “Wh-... why did you… Oh, Chris, no. Oh, no, oh fuck, Chris, you hurt yourself, you haven’t done that since-”

 Chris turns, ceramic crackling underfoot, sharp little spikes of pain in his feet, and looks up into Jake’s eyes. “Tris, Tristan Higgs was pretty,” He says, weakly. “I don’t want to, to, to be pretty anymore.”

 Oh, darlin’, aren’t you just pretty as a picture.

 Open up, 499.

 He’s such a sweet, handsome boy, Ronnie, you’d never know he had, you know...

 You can just say it, you know. It’s not a dirty word. 

 You’re too pretty for anything else, 499, you were always going to be somebody’s slut.

 You want it-

 I, I don’t want to-

 No one gives a fuck what you want.

I don’t, don’t, don’t want to, please-, pl-please, please stop, please please stop touching me-

What do you say, trainee?

I want this. I want you.

Good boy.

 A shudder ripples through him, a memory of pain, long gone but still written over every inch of his body. Broken, and dirty, and used until he forgot how to be anything else. He feels suddenly exhausted, weighed down, too heavy to move. There’s a weight on his chest and every breath takes an effort, takes determination, and he is losing the battle. 

His lip wobbles, and he feels infinitely young, like all the years didn’t happen, and he’s still just Tristan Higgs in the end, ready to be broken, bent, and twisted. 

He looks at Jake, and his brother blurs with tears. “He was, was, was too pretty for an, anything else, I d-don’t want to, to-to-to be pr-pretty like him anymore-... s-so I made, made, made myself uh-ugly-”

 Jake sweeps him up and Chris lets himself be swept. The cry is bubbling up again and he wails into Jake’s shirt, gripping into the fabric and twisting his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks and stinging into the places he scratched himself. He’s pulling, tapping, rocking his bloodied head into Jake’s shoulder, fighting the trains in his mind that aren’t thoughts but memories, each one fighting to be the first to hurt him by coming back to the surface. 

 They crash into each other, into the wall of cold white light. They break through.

 Inside him the boy in the black collar is screaming, the boy in the collar is crying, the boy is laid back on silk sheets and cries tears he has to keep inside his head while his face is smiling and his voice makes all the right sounds, the boy has his wrists and ankles locked down to keep him still, the boy is curled up between his parents waiting for someone to come and nobody is coming, the boy wears a suit in court that itches and he can’t stop shaking his hands and the judge doesn’t like him and the social worker doesn’t like him and the boy is curled up on a bed in a windowless room missing his friends, the boy hits his head and hits himself and the words are gone and the boy is screaming the boy is screaming the boy is screaming-

 Mom, can Tris sleep over tonight?

 Again, Aki? Well, I guess I don’t see any harm. You’ve got half your closet in Aki’s room by now, anyway. Call you mom and ask her, Tris, okay?

 You fucking freak, I wish you had died with your bastard father instead of her.

 I hate you, I, I hate you so, so, so-so much-

 You should hate your fucking self, Tristan.

 I love you, kiddo. It’s you and me, right?

Right, Mom. You, you, you and, and me.

Til your dad comes home, anyway. Can’t wait ‘til he’s working days and we’re not alone at night, huh?

Your prospective will choose your name.

I, I’m a… number. My name is… 223499, Romantic designation, Facility 001. I am a pet and… and… a toy. I am an active par, participant in fulfilling m-my, my, my owner’s desires-

I paid extra and you did not disappoint.

On your knees, gorgeous boy.

I think we’ll play a game, sweetheart.

Show some respect, 223499.

Come here, darlin’.

Good boy

I love you, Tris

Good pet

It’s, it’s okay, it’s-... okay, I l-love you, it’ll be okay-

Good boy

The boy is screaming for help and nobody is coming to save him-

“I’ve got you,” Jake whispers, holding him tightly, and Chris buries himself into the warmth, the familiar scent, the feeling of Jake’s arms is branded deeper than anything else in the world. I will rescue you, I’ll come back to you, Chris, I promise, I’m here.

I want you I love you I’m here.  

“You made Chris, and you’re still Chris. This is just all the shit they took from you, that’s all. It’s okay, you can cry, Chris, go ahead and cry. It’s okay, it’s hard when it comes back, and Kauri and Ant and Laken and I, we’re all here with you.”

Chris sobs in Jake’s arms, bleeding all over his shirt, but Jake doesn’t care. He holds him anyway. There’s a throbbing pain inside his head, but it’s not stronger than the memories, and the cold white light isn’t holding them back like it used to, anymore.

Her face, her hands, the blood coming out of her, the silent house around them. 

Her face.

Her eyes.

She loved him.

Oh, no, did you fall down? Oh, it’s okay, honey, I’m right here, I’ve got you - it’s hard the first time, but we get back up and try again. Here, let Mommy give it a kiss - there, all better, right?

Therapy is rough sometimes, sweetie, but listen - we can do this, together, Tris. We can do the hard stuff if we do it together. D’you want a hug? Yeah, hugs can help make it better, right? That’s what moms do.

I heard the thunder, baby. Go ahead, climb in, I’ve got you, c’mere, I’ll hold you.

I want you I love you I’m here.

I l-love you, it’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, Tris...

“I, I, I don’t want to, to be Tristan Higgs,” Chris cries against Jake’s neck, shoulders shaking, rocking, rocking, rocking in his arms. Jake’s hands are up in what’s left of his hair, feeling the short, chopped strands, rubbing over the nape of his neck, soothing the twisting hurt and fear inside him. “I don’t, I don’t, he, he, he, it was his fault, for, for, for for for moving when he had to, to be still, and I wasn’t, I didn’t do it right, and they, they d-died because of me… I l-loved, I was, they, they, they shot them and-and left me and, and, and no one came, nobody came to help, no, no, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“I know,” Jake murmurs. “I know. It wasn’t your fault, you were just a kid. It wasn’t your fault, Chris, whatever happened, it-... it wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. You’re whoever you want to be, Chris, but Tristan is still a part of you, okay? We have to work on making everything integrate, work together, or it’s going to keep hurting. You have to get past the conditioning to forget, or it’s going to… get worse.”

Chris whimpers at the idea that he could feel any worse than this. “I don’t, don’t… don’t want to, to, to to to lose her again,” Chris whispers, shaking his head. “Don’t want to, to lose y-you-”

“Never. You can’t ever lose me, you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s clean up this mess, Laken is probably dying to talk to you-”

“No,” Chris whispers, begs without a voice. “No, not, not them, not… not yet.”

The scream is bubbling up again, the boy in the cold white room is rocking, rocking, rocking with his hands tied behind his back, can’t touch can’t hurt can’t feel can’t think someone help me but nobody is coming except the handler with his smile and his pain and his hands-

“Okay. No problem. Cleaning first. I’m going to bandage you up, and I’ll clean up the mess while you sit and maybe drink some water. But… can we… can we do one thing? Will you let me do one thing?”

“Wh, what?”

“Will you let me fix your hair?”

Chris pulls back a little to look up at Jake, and he smiles faintly back down, sympathetic and loving, and it’s not okay, but Jake is here, so it’s… it’s better than it would be if he were alone. “Um… y, yes, you, you you you, you can fix it.” 

“Okay. I love you, little man. You weren’t supposed to see it so soon, we were going to get you ready, and it’s going to hurt coming back, but I promise… I promise it’s good for you to have it. Okay? Do you trust me, when I say that?”

Chris meets the sincere love in those blue eyes. “I, I trust you.”

He does. But he doesn’t believe him.

It’s okay, baby, it’s, it’s okay…

It’s not, and it never was, but… he remembers her face, at least. He remembers her voice.

He remembers her.

I love you, Tris, I’m so proud of you for doing the hard things, and I’m right here with you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. You and me, right? We can do all the hard shit as long as we do it together.

His fingers twitch, and he buries himself against Jake and sees her eyes full of tears and dying and her chest covered in blood and the blood on the wall and she tells him she loves him and then she doesn’t tell him anything anymore and her body is cold and Tristan curls up between them, blood drying on the wall and no one comes until the sun is shining and the blood is dry but Tristan is still crying-

Chris begins, again, to scream, but this time Jake is holding him, this time someone’s here, this time there’s someone who isn’t leaving, this time he can wail with arms around him and this time he’s not alone.

The boy is Christopher Stanton and he is Tristan Higgs and the boy is screaming and his brother came to help him and his brother is holding him tight.

I love you, Tris. I’m so proud of you.

I’m here, Chris. I’m not going anywhere.

I want you 

I love you 

I’ve got you 

I’m here.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp  , @finder-of-rings  , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker  , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript

#whump #emotional whump #ptsd tw #flashbacks tw #ableism tw #noncon tw #whump of a minor #referenced in memories #parental death tw #grief #angst #found family #memory loss #memory recovery #trauma response #trauma recovery #recovering whumpee #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #dehumanization tw #pet whump #past pet whump #negative stimming tw #self-injury tw #victim-blaming #internalized victim-blaming

[atlanticcanada]

Tax agreement 'exit clause' will end a deal between the province of N.B. and First Nations

An almost 30-year-old tax revenue sharing agreement between the province of New Brunswick and some First Nations reserves in the province will be dissolved at the end of this month.

For Madawaska First Nation's business sector - it will have a huge impact.

"That has caused a huge upheaval,” said Patricia Bernard, the chief of Madawaka First Nation.

“We've been relying on those agreements for our economic development, for our resource revenue and now they're being cancelled because Premier Higgs does not believe them to be sustainable,” Bernard said.

New Brunswick Premier Blaine Higgs is using an exit clause to the agreement saying it gives the First Nations an unfair advantage.

"I'm hoping that we can develop an economic partnership with First Nations,” Higgs said. “So that we can continue to see all First Nations rise and be able to have those potentials for everyone in the community."

When it was drawn up, the tax sharing amounted to about $27,000 a year. They now stand between $60 million and $70 million.

"The agreement is that the band or the business keeps 95 per cent of that tax and the province gets five per cent of that tax,” said Ross Perley, the chief of Neqotkuk (Tobique) First Nation. “That's the sharing part of the agreement."

The province is now offering a development agreement, which supports health, education and economic development.

The agreement was that the province collected the First Nations tax and returned 95 per cent, up to $8 million, and 70 per cent thereafter.

"It's quite insulting actually that you could take a community that is succeeding very well and take that away just to micromanage,” said Bernard.

“To come in and have another level of red tape for no other reason than what we may assume is a racist sort of attitude."

Without the tax sharing agreement, First Nations like the Madawaska Maliseet First Nation could set their own tax rate, but the premier says business suppliers still must adhere to provincial rates.

"Businesses that operate in our province are not going to break the provincial rules,” said Higgs, referring to supplies of businesses on the reserve.

“I mean, they won't be able to operate throughout the province if that's the case and so it's a moot argument in many ways of how this might end up. Could they at the end of the day have their own taxation model? Maybe."

"Madawaska will be doing their own law making and we're rolling out with the cannabis and tobacco business licensing law that we will be administering and overseeing under our jurisdiction of the constitution,” said Bernard, who holds a law degree from the University of New Brunswick.

First Nations say dissolving the agreement for tax sharing with the province is driving a wedge even further between them and the Higgs government.

"Unless that becomes acknowledged, the relationship will remain strained,” Bernard said.

"The tax agreement is the issue. All we can say is my relationship is strained. Yes it is, but it is because of this singular issue,” said Higgs.

The agreement with the Wolastoqey First Nations ends Jan. 31.

A similar agreement with the Mi'kmaq First Nations ends on Dec. 31.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/eMLnxvR

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

[lethalchiralium]

halo eyes | Higgs Monaghan x F!Reader

a/n: I’M BACK! WITH SELF-INDULGENT FANFIC! IS IT GONNA BE A SERIES? WHO KNOWS!

warnings: MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY, KIDDOS. mentions of sexual themes if you squint, I don’t remember if there is cussing, SIMPING??? sadness? angst but fluff?

tag list: @barzalslittlebitch @writingawaymylife @saltyforthewin

As soon as Higgs entered your bunker, he knew something was wrong. He set down your cargo he brought from Middle Knot and slung off his gear before he called out, “Y/N?”

He started to worry when you didn’t answer, he pulled off his boots before he continued through the bunker that was covered in bookshelves full of books. He made sure not to knock over any of the stacks of colorful books as he made his way towards the locked door in the back of your workshop. As soon as he got close to it, the door unlocked and opened, allowing him access to your private residence.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Higgs called, worry made his hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Maybe someone had got in and hurt you? He couldn’t stand the thought.

He rushed down the staircase, his lips about to shout your name when he saw you standing in the middle of your living room, eyes red and looking up at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“D-Did you bring my books?” Your balled fist wiped away tears from your eyes before you turned around, moving towards your small kitchen.

“Yeah, and your rations ‘n water...” He said, following you to your kitchen before he paused in the doorway. Maybe he was invading your space? You never minded before, you were his friend... right? “Y/N, are you alright?”

You turned around to him with tears running down your face, and you gently shook your head. He mumbled, “Oh, sweetheart,” and then raced forward to pull you into his chest. He had an inkling of why you were so torn up, and he knew you had been denied the one thing you really wanted more than anything.

A kid.

Your loud sobs were slightly muffled by Higgs’ Timefall-resistant suit, your arms wrapped around his neck as you trembled. He tore off his gloves and his left hand tangled in your hair as the other pressed against the small of your back. His cheek pressed against your temple as he felt your pain seep into his skin; you had always been open about wanting kids, but since you were definitely not getting out of your bunker anytime soon, you decided to adopt. Any kid, any little human who needed someone. He was always supportive every time he came into your library after delivering your packages to glance at your slowly growing collection of Egyptian books, and you always felt a piece of you fall a little bit more in love with him.

“It’s okay.” He whispered to you, but you couldn’t help but cry harder. How could he know what it felt like to want something to out live you? He never wanted kids because of what his dad did to him, he couldn’t understand why it wasn’t okay. The one thing you wanted more than anything was never going to happen and it might as well have killed you.

“No...No...” You whimpered but the sobs overpowered you again, your arms left his neck before they began to hit his chest out of pain, and he let you. He kept the steel grip on you, letting you get out the years of effort and stress you put into trying to adopt a kid. He’s known you for all of the years you’ve tried to make a family, this also chipped away at his own heart to see you like this. He hated seeing his best friend stripped away to a mess of tears and sobs.

“I-I‘ll never-ever have a kid, Higgs,” You shook with sobs and he then pressed you back into his chest, your hands gripped his suit tighter than a death grip. “I ca-can’t do anything right-“

“Y/N, doll,” He softly massaged your scalp, holding you as you tried to calm down.

“I-I don’t- I don’t have anyone who- who’d want to b-be with me or even want a kid too and I-“ You began to blubber as a whole new wave of sobs erupted from your lips, and that broke Higgs’ heart.

“Maybe,” He said, his lips uttered the words before his brain could even catch up, “Maybe I could help you get one.”

You hiccuped before you pulled away from him, a sniffle escaped your nose before you whispered, “Higgs, there aren’t any kids to adopt.”

His face flushed pink before he blubbered, “I mean- I mean we could make one.”

Your pupils dilated and you started to cry again, Higgs immediately felt like he made you feel upset but you placed your hands on his cheeks. Higgs honestly wished his memory was photographic so he could look at you biting your lip to hold back a smile for forever. “You’d- You’d do that... for me?”

He gave you a nod, his face becoming more red as the moment continued. “I-I mean, friends help each other right?”

“Oh Higgs,” you blubbered before the waterworks started again and you wrapped your arms around his neck again as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y-You don’t need to lie t-to me to make me fe-feel better...”

Higgs held you tighter, trying to comfort you as he spoke with assurance, “I mean it, Y/N.”

Your head moved away from his chest as you looked up at him once again, trying to look at your best friend’s eyes to find any hint of hesitance. “Higgs...” You hiccuped, one hand moved to his cheek and his face began to heat up again. “Y-You don’t have to do this for me... I-I can get over it...” You trailed off and looked down at the floor, but his hand forced you to look up at him with such a gentleness that made you want to place your lips on his. “I-I mean it, I-I-I can get- This- If we did this, it cou-could ruin our friendship-“

“Shut up.” Higgs said and you immediately did, he softly said, “You are my best friend. I will do this for you.”

You then whispered, “Wh-What about what happened to-to you as a kid?”

Higgs’ features hardened a little but still remained soft, “Well, from what I’ve learned, you’re the only person on Earth who deserves a kid.”

If you weren’t crying before, that statement would’ve made you burst into tears but you kept crying as you smiled at him, hugging him tightly. “T-Thank you, Higgs.”

He rubbed your back softly, and spoke, “If you don’t want me in their life, that’s okay with me.”

“You-You won’t be bothered that your offspring would be-be running around?” You sniffled into his suit and he shook his head.

“They’d be raised by you, I wouldn’t be worried at all.”

If you weren’t in love with him before, that would’ve made you blush so hard that you’d faint, but you were damn close to fainting. You looked back up into his blue eyes, “You...You would help me? Yo-You’re not joking, are you?”

He gave you a heart-melting smile as he said, “I will help you make a baby.”

A smile tugged at you lips. “Say it again.”

“I, Higgs Monaghan, will help you, Y/N L/N, make a baby.”

Your tears of sadness then turned into tears of joy as you then hugged him again, saying, “Thank you, Higgs.”

A kiss was placed to the top of your head, and he spoke with a softness that made you melt like chocolate. “I don’t have any more orders to deliver, when do you... wanna get started?”

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