#an existence bound to wanting so hard to break out to be free

[bottom-slut-unionizer]

Deathloop is quickly becoming one of my favorite games

#the story #the atmosphere #the way everything in the world is constructed to convey the protagonists two opposing desires #on one hand colt is desperate to leave blackreef after beint traumatized by being stuck #in his own time loop #n every time he wakes up with no memory some part of him forces himself to try to escape #bc he tried so hard to break out to find Lila #and the other desire which is to stay #he wants to break the loop he wants to stay #he wants to see the world eith his daughter #but hes stuck always in the same pattern #forced in a cycle to attempt to destroy the loop only to realize its all he has #an existence bound to wanting so hard to break out to be free #n juliana is stuck as well #she cant let anything change she needs it to keep going #shell never forgive her father for what hes done but shell never give the other visionaries the chance to truly enjoy the loop like she does #its a cycle of trauma #even when colt is finally content n he puts the gun down his body wont let him truly enjoy the life he has there

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Memories III

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury, amnesia, blood, breakdown

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 2.1k

A/N: You know what? I'm just not feeling this chapter. Something about it just doesn't sit right with me.  : (

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The heart rate monitor’s colours were as bright and flashy as a carnival, flashing crimson and cyan across the sterile walls of the hospital room. Its beeping was a ticking clock that raced with each heartbeat. It echoed in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could hear it far, far below, but it was there. Something waited behind all thoughts, ideas and emotions; something scratched to emerge from the surface.

You could feel its claws digging as it burrows closer. You could sense its presence and smell its hunger.

You could hear it far, far below, but it was there. The faint scratching came from a deep well inside you. Sometimes, it was soft; sometimes violent in its attempt to burst through the barriers that held it back, driven by an urgency and desire for freedom that you didn’t understand. You heard it while you slept or when attempting to wake up, as if waking up were a nightmare itself. It reminded you of something—a memory—but what? It lingered in the darkness behind your eyes, just beyond your ability to reach out and grab hold of it.

The sound drew closer until it sounded as if it was right next to your ear. Like a headache, the noise pressed against your forehead, making you clench your teeth in frustration.

It only made your mood worse. Guilt gnawed at your heart, a creature with big teeth and nasty breath that wouldn’t stop. Your eyes felt heavy and wet with unshed tears.

You had been so docile and cooperative a week ago, never talking back to the nurses or refusing them anything they asked for. Quietly, you let them take your vitals and listened patiently as they droned on about things that were none of your concern. But that was before the new nurse; she had kind eyes and good intentions. She said, “You’re improving every day; I’m sure you’ll be able to go home soon”. That’s when you snapped. You couldn’t help but feel angry and resentful towards her words. You didn’t want to go home soon; you didn’t want to go home at all. What kind of home could you go back to? A home where you couldn’t even remember the people you loved?

The thought tightened your chest, and you shifted slightly in the hospital bed. Suddenly, the scratching noise turned into a voice. It was faint at first, but it grew louder, more insistent. It sounded like a man’s voice, deep and full of desperation.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying but could feel the emotion behind the words. Fear, anger, and pain all swirled together in a maelstrom of emotions that left you dizzy and disorientated. You wanted to scream for the voice to stop, but it only grew louder and more persistent until it was all you could hear. You could feel rage and fear course through your veins like a tornado. You were thrashing in wild abandon, breaking free of the white linen sheets that bound you to the hospital bed. Your voice echoed throughout the room as you screamed wildly, and their grip felt like iron shackles as they tried to take your vitals against your will.

Your body shook with cold, the thin hospital gown a flimsy barrier against the chill that seemed to seep through your bones. Metal strained against the skin of your left arm, a biting reminder of the needle that had been inserted earlier that day. You could feel a sharp prick as you ripped it out with fury, causing fresh blood to spill down your arm like a crimson river.

As the nurse and her assistants struggled to subdue you, you felt a strange sense of detachment from yourself. It was as if you were watching from a distance, observing the chaos and destruction with cold, dispassionate eyes. You fought on, thrashing and flailing like a wild animal, determined to break free from the restraints that bound you to the bed. The nurse’s soothing words were like poison, fueling the fire of your anger and frustration.

For a moment, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and were startled by what you saw. Your hair was a tangled mess, your eyes wild and bloodshot, and your face contorted with rage and fear. You were a stranger to yourself, a lost and broken soul trapped in a body that refused to obey.

The nurses struggled to hold you down, their voices rising in panic as you thrashed and kicked.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder and more frantic with each step. Suddenly, without warning, the door burst open and in rushed Simon. His breathing was jagged and ragged, and his eyes flickered around the room in terror as he took in the chaotic scene before him.

You could see the pain etched on his face, and you knew he was struggling with the same demons you were. The stress and exhaustion of the past few days showed in the heavy bags under his eyes.

The nurses were shouting orders to each other, trying to calm you down and administer medication to sedate you.

He watched as the nurses struggled to restrain you, their faces twisted in frustration. He knew that he had to find a way to help you, to break through the wall that you had built around yourself. Simon glared at them with a fierce determination, his voice low and menacing as he spoke. “Let her go. Now.”

The nurses faltered, looking at each other uncertainly. They knew that Simon was not a man to be trifled with, that he was fiercely protective of you. They noticed the strange glint in his eyes every time they entered your hospital room. They could see he was devoted, unwilling to leave your side even after visiting hours had ended. The air shimmered with unspoken tension whenever he was present, and everyone around him felt like they were walking on eggshells. They knew that he was a force to be reckoned with, and they were hesitant to cross him. His gaze seemed to pierce through walls, his presence radiating an eerie energy that no one could quite place. The hospital staff whispered about him behind closed doors, wary of what might happen if they didn’t tread lightly around him.

The head nurse spoke in a quiet voice but with a strength that conveyed confidence and benevolent control. Her eyes were steady and kind; she held tension like others wore perfume. “We’re just trying to calm her down. She’s been getting agitated and refusing treatment.”

“I said let her go!” A grunt of fury punctuated Simon’s words, his eyes blazing with anger.”  She’s been through hell and back. Don’t you think she deserves more than just sedation?”

She hesitated, staring at Simon. She knew he was right, but there were protocols to follow, and she had a job to do.

“We’re doing all we can,” she said, voice softening.

Simon could see the exhaustion etched into every line on her face, and he felt a pang of guilt. He knew she was doing everything in her power to help you.

He took a deep breath, his eyes softening as he regarded you, still struggling and fighting against the constraints of the hospital bed.

“Let me try,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Just give us a moment.”

The head nurse hesitated for a moment, looking between Simon and you, before nodding her head and motioning for the others to back off.

He approached the bed slowly, his movements measured and cautious. He didn’t want to startle you, didn’t want to trigger another outburst. He wanted to help and be there for you in whatever way you needed. He knew that he couldn’t force you to remember, couldn’t push you beyond your limits, but he was determined to be a constant presence, a guiding light in the darkness of your memories.

He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You flinched at the touch, your eyes narrowing in anger and confusion.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay, love. I’m here. You’re safe.”

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered soothing words in a low, calming voice.

For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say. But then you felt a spark of familiarity. You knew him, even if you couldn’t remember how or why. He was an anchor in the storm, a lifeline in the darkness.

He spoke in a soft, soothing tone, his words a balm for your shattered nerves. The door closed gently as they were alone in the room; he removed his balaclava, revealing a face that was at once familiar and yet unknown. You couldn’t remember who he was, but something about him made you feel safe and protected. You had seen him without his mask the first day you woke up from the coma. It was a sunny day, and he stood by your bed with it in his hands. He looked down at you with his dark eyes, waiting for you to recognise him, but you didn’t —a devastating realisation that filled him with sorrow. His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, stroking it gently as he whispered words of encouragement.

“You’re doing great, love” he murmured. “Just breathe, and try n’ relax. I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

His eyes were gentle, his expression filled with concern and love.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming. “I’m trying, but I still can’t remember you.”

He smiled. A small, sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You will. It’s gonna be okay. I know it’ll take its time, but I’m not going anywhere. I promise”

Your forearm was still bleeding from where you had ripped out the IV, but Simon paid it no mind. He focused solely on calming you down, his presence a soothing balm to your shattered psyche.

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your body shaking with sobs. You forgot about the hospital room, the beeping heart monitor, and the cold lights. You were just two souls, lost and broken, finding solace in each other’s arms.

As the minutes passed, Simon’s soothing voice continued to wash over you, easing the tension and fear that had been plaguing you for weeks. You felt a strange sense of clarity as if the fog that had been clouding your mind was finally starting to clear. You still couldn’t remember, but you knew you were not alone.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “It’s no sin to be scared. To be vulnerable. I’m here for you. No matter what, love.”

Simon’s fingers were warm and comforting as they smoothed your hair back.

His words struck a chord within you, resonating deep within your damaged soul. You knew you had been putting up a front, trying to be strong and brave even as your mind and body rebelled against you. You felt a sense of guilt, knowing that you had been pushing away the one person who had been trying to help you all along.

You clung to him, feeling his warmth and strength as he held you close. You inhaled his scent deeply, trying to commit it to memory, trying to make sense of the inexplicable surge of emotions coursing through your body. It was as if you had known him your whole life as if he was a part of you that had been missing for so long. And yet, you couldn’t remember his name or how you had met him.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“ No need for thanks, love. But promise one thing. Just one thing?”

You looked up at him, curious.

“Promise me that you won’t give up,” he said, his eyes serious. “Don’t you dare give up, love. No matter how hard it gets, don’t you dare ever fackin’ quit. Promise me you will keep fighting, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of determination you hadn’t felt in weeks. “I promise.”

The heart monitor’s beeping and the hospital equipment’s soft hum was the only sound in the room. Simon’s fingers continued to work their magic, slowly and patiently, coaxing you to relax and breathe. He seemed to know exactly what to say, precisely what to do, and you were grateful for his presence.

After a while, your body slowly calmed down, the fear and anxiety ebbing away like the tide.

Your hand felt small and fragile as it slipped into his. His grip was warm and soothing, as if he were trying to protect and keep you safe.

His breath tickled against your ear as he spoke - it was the warmest thing you had felt in days. He cupped his hand gently against the back of your head and planted a gentle yet firm kiss on your temple.

“Don’t let it go,” he whispered, “even if you don’t know who I am.”

Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie @originaldeerhottub @cr4shposts @caramlizedtomatoes

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost x f!reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost x y/n

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - IV

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

That sentiment never left in the weeks of planning that followed.  

Every time someone asked about your ring, you told them it was being resized and that neither of you were pleased with the clarity of the gems.  Besides, you would say, you didn’t want to show it off before the wedding.

The wedding date was settled by a Segment (Omega, you were certain, for he was the closest to the actual Doctor in personality) unceremoniously dropping a calendar on your desk.  You closed your eyes, placed your finger somewhere and landed on a weekend towards the later half of the month.

Omega then had the gall to take a paperclip from your tiny dish that held them and twist one into a ring before he left without another word.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The timeline was short.  Six weeks.  Even your coworkers who dabbled in event planning for the annual ball and other celebrations balked at the small window of time.  A wedding of this magnitude required at least a year, someone said, and you wished their gaze hadn’t dropped to your lower half so blatantly.

When you weren’t working and trying to keep your eyes and ears about you to pass along information, you were trying to meet and correspond with vendors and come up with a vision of an event that, quite frankly, would suit neither of you if the matter of rank didn’t come into play.  It kept you so busy that you toyed with the idea of a kamera to save you time but even those in Snezhnaya were not slim nor inconspicuous. But they were expensive to maintain.  You couldn’t afford to add another item to your paper-thin personal budget.

You ran through your itinerary in your head again as you made your way down from the Palace and into town, thankful the weather was at least holding out a bit.  Post office, bank, and an appointment with a seamstress that wasn’t on Regrator’s list of preferred vendors.

All of the dresses you saw and tried were simply…too much.  Tried too hard.  Beautiful in their work but felt like another layer of paint rather than an organic addition to the whole affair.

As far as you knew, the Harbinger had a personal tailor in the Palace anyway and going off of the suggested list was bound to produce some results.  You were determined to find vendors who could use the support and might be overlooked otherwise.

Bad enough you had to go to Northland; you didn’t need wedding vendors working against you either.

The post office was packed, as usual, and you eagerly handed over the last remnants of your copied ledgers and notes.  They might as well have been burning holes in your cloak pocket all morning.  Your room and your office was now free of damning evidence.  Privacy was almost non-existent now and it would vanish entirely soon enough.  If you wrote to your parents more frequently, you could still keep up the habit established and not raise suspicion.

A break in a usual routine would be seen as unusual, you reminded yourself.

Amid the other envelopes was a thicker one, your reluctant communication to your parents about the change of circumstance.  They deserved to know and understand that it changed nothing (if they were different people, you would not have told them at all).  Traveling to the city was out of the question for them between the cost and your father’s health, let alone the added layer of your boss being thrown into that mix.

Lord Dottore’s proposal and your agreement already put you in a spotlight you never wanted to be in.  You didn’t need Pantalone knowing exactly how bad of a position your parents’ bankruptcy had put them, and you, in.  

Funny how you feared the Second Harbinger far less despite his gruesome acts, you mused after you thanked the clerk and made your way to Northland’s prominent facade.  At least he wouldn’t care one way or the other so long as nothing interfered with his work.  He never made it personal.

Until now, in a way.

Your cheek strung for a brief moment as your skin remembered the cold metal of your letter opener.  The closest thing to a kiss you two shared.

Northland’s home branch was a source of tourism as much as it was an actual bank.  Vaulted ceilings soared high overhead and marble pillars provided support that, for the briefest moments, made the building feel as much of a chapel as it was a bank.  The guided tours helped.

Compared to the latest branch in Liyue Harbor, it was surprisingly austere in its plainness.  Pantalone’s office suite and several of the other rooms outside of the lobby of tellers were far more opulent; much like its owner, the bank presented one image to the public and another to its closest confidants.  The coffered ceilings casted shadows as intricate as the dealings on the floor below.

You waited in line, as everyone did.  Most of the staff knew you, at least by loose association, and you were under no impression that anything was ever truly hidden.

Your family situation wasn’t the secret you needed to keep, after all.  As far away as you tried to keep it, part of you knew that your boss was likely aware you sent most of your pay home.  That you worked at the Palace as a sacrifice for the poor choices of others.  And that he was likely at fault, although you doubted he would ever claim as such.

The source of the money was a different story, of course.

A bridge to cross another day.

As you filled out the respective slips for deposit and withdrawal, the clerk’s head snapped up out of your peripheral vision with an audible gasp.

“My lady, why didn’t you say you would be accompanied by your fiancé, the Lord Harbinger?” She whispered, a tinge of fear tainting her words.  “We would have prepared a private office for you both to take care of your business.”

“I—”

Out of the corner of your eye to your left, you caught a tall figure with hair the color of a spring morning sky and a shining earring that gave off its own glow.  The white cloak with its black fur collar filled in the gaps.  Around you, it felt as if the very air around you had been sucked out.  Chattering had all but ceased and you heard the shuffle of people changing their posture, dedicating their attention to the notion that a Harbinger was among them.

Would you ever get used to that?  Likely not.  When it was just the two of you, things were different; it was you and him meeting blow for verbal blow.  You did your best to keep your composure and just as you were about to politely smile and tell the clerk that you handled affairs separately, a voice to your left interjected.

“Such accommodations won’t be necessary.  We are not staying long enough to require them,” Lord Dottore remarked, not even turning his head in your direction.

Your face felt hot as you thanked the clerk for their assistance and handed over the account slips.  A presence lingered at your side and you didn’t have to look to see that it was Dottore; he had already finished whatever his errand was but for him to leave would look bizarre, you rationalized.  You tried to ignore the biting thought that he was sticking around to ensure you didn’t bumble your way through the transaction now that the cat was out of the bag.

“Just a deposit then, My Lady?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, as usual.  Will the funds be accessible later today?”

“Immediately, ma’am.  The account holder should have no issue.”

If you timed it right, the morning post would arrive in time for your mother to reach the bank and take care of other affairs before the end of the day.  Bills were already paid.  But groceries and medicine were constant necessities and your parents couldn’t stockpile like they used to.

Next to you, Lord Dottore seemed to prickle with a question that he knew wasn’t appropriate.  Hearing his fiancé was giving money away when she was, supposedly, so good at it herself, was a variable never discussed.

A lot of things weren’t discussed though.  This might as well have been an elopement save for the actual, well, act of running away.

Once everything was finished, Dottore escorted you out of the bank, extending his elbow in silent regard.  Right.  Anything else would be too informal.  You tried your best not to look uncomfortable with his proximity or at the looks and whispers from staff and client alike as you looped your hand underneath to hold the crook of his arm.

“Not an outcome I anticipated but one I will take advantage of nonetheless,” Dottore muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.  “I need to borrow your hand.”

You looked up at him, face contorted in confusion.  The proposal was unusual enough on its own.  Did he mean your actual hand, and if so, attached or detached?  Was your life now going to be filled with bizarre requests?  

“What?” you hissed, baffled.

Several heads turned as you walked through the snowy street.  The tilt of his head told you he was glaring at you for drawing such attention.

“You need a ring, do you not, my dear?  I might be the best scholar in several centuries but even I am aware that ring sizes are best left to proper measurement devices.”

Oh.  Of course.  Your ring.

“I thought you were busy for the next several weeks, sir,” you emphasized your correction more for those who might overhear than the man you were speaking with.  “Unless you are, in fact, not the Doctor?”

“As if I would leave such a personal matter to a segment.”

He spat the words, insulted.  Whether by the insinuation he’d doled out the task or your seeming inability to tell him apart from his counterparts, you couldn’t quite tell.

You could tell them apart.  Lord Dottore knew that.  

But he also knew how important it would be to make this appear right.

Lord Dottore didn’t wait for you to reply and continued.  “It will not take long and then you can be on your way.  Where else are you off to, anyway?”

“I have an appointment with a seamstress.  Plenty of well-known vendors extended their offerings but they were…” you gestured with your free hand, finding yourself at a loss for words other than, “rather unremarkable.”

The chuckle that wrenched from his lips made your blood run cold and your heart jump.

“You’re certainly playing your part, Accountant,” he teased.

Of course you were.  What did he expect, to marry you in your uniform?  You bit your tongue for a second to think on your words.

“As I said when last we spoke, I don’t wish to misrepresent you.  That goes for your rank as well as who you are, or at least the image you project.  But everything I was presented with was just not right.”

You walked in silence for three steps before Lord Dottore said, “Elaborate.”

That was like asking you to explain why you balanced numbers the way you did or why you preferred to sleep on your right rather than your left side.  You just did.  

“They’re beautiful but they feel almost…like I’m competing with the Tsaritsa.  Like I’m just a doll to wear the dress rather than the dress being a reflection of…well, me.”

You cast a glance up at Lord Dottore as he gave a hum and found his head angled towards you in such a way that prevented you from seeing beneath his mask.  A part of you was curious, of course, about what he looked like.  You weren’t alone in that regard but it was never acted upon except by the young, giddy acolytes who had yet to find their place as a Fatuus, enamored with the prospect rather than the work.

Even as a spouse, you doubted you would be privy to his face.  Why would you be?  You were to be an equal on paper, nothing more.

“I trust your judgment, Accountant.  The ceremony is long and the reception is longer; it would be better to have something that you feel comfortable in.  I don’t rightly care, as you well know, but expectations must be met for this to be believable.”

Before you could speak again, you were led into a shop with glass counters and carefully placed lights.  The encased jewelry and the glass itself didn’t so much sparkle as glow and you were careful to tap out your boots so as to not soak the plush carpet.

Lord Dottore didn’t so much as shake out his cloak’s hem as he addressed the shopkeeper.  You tried to keep your expression neutral as you looked around, each case organized by the type of stone.  Everything in here had to be worth at least ten times your salary in total and it churned your stomach to even try to calculate that amount.  You tore your gaze away and returned to Dottore’s side.

Sizing was, in fact, just as quick as he said it would be.  The process was just a matter of using the jeweler's equivalent to a set of keys, each sizing ring marked with the appropriate measurement.  You tried on a few before settling on a number that was snug enough not to slip over your knuckle easily and came off with a bit of a struggle.

“There, matter settled,” Dottore murmured as the jeweler jotted down notes.

And you didn’t even lose a hand, you thought.  Yet.

If you were alone, you might have made the joke aloud.  

He was closer than you expected, his eyes seemingly glued to the case the entire time you went back and forth with the jeweler on the sizing.  He’d only chimed in once in the whole process, to take your hand and try the sizer himself, as if gauging the difficulty of getting the ring over your knuckle.  You tensed instantly before reminding yourself to relax.

You would need to get used to being in his presence and he would have to put your band on your finger publicly, after all.

Something in his face shifted and you got the distinct feeling you’d failed whatever he was trying to benchmark.  You’d been slipping.  First the bank, now this.  His finger traced the faint line across your cheek as he brushed his lips over your forehead.

“You should get going if you don’t want to be late, my dear.”

“Of course,” you replied, tilting your head and daring to lean ever so slightly into the gesture.

Two could play that game.

You thanked the jeweler for their time and left the shop, hoping the cold would stave off the burning sensation on your cheek.

The seamstress appointment was better, but only just.  At the mere mention of the timeline and the passing look between the shopkeeper and the assistant, you knew they connected the dots as to which upcoming wedding this was for.

“We would have come to you, my lady,” the seamstress said.

You could feel any sense of control over the situation slipping away to propriety again.

“Please, I’m not—”

“A Harbinger’s fiancé, and the Second’s at that, shouldn’t have to come down into town.  We would have gladly made the trip up to the Palace.”

Was it a faux part on your part or was it fear?  Her face was so hard to read.  Running any kind of business was difficult enough.  Harder still to contend with public courtesy and unwritten rules.  Fontaine had it worst of all, you recalled, but even here in Snezhnaya, rank and social standing ruled with a golden hand.

It only went so far, though, and that Pantalone didn’t work directly with the shop spoke volumes to you.  You overheard so many conversations when you were in the backroom, balancing the books and triple-checking the tax levies.  Those who respected your father’s time were the ones he was always willing to work with, no matter the situation.

“I want whoever I work with to be in the best environment for them.  You have everything here, after all; it makes far more sense for me to come to you,” you replied evenly.

Hopefully, in the event someone decided to speak and spread whatever they saw, you passed as humble and self-aware.

After all, that was the point.

You eventually found yourself swaddled in lace and tulle, watching as the two craftspeople worked together to find the perfect color and the perfect patterns.  A very soft silvery-blue, rather than a strict white, laid a shimmering foundation upon which the lace and tulle were overlaid; the bodice and sleeves would be lace and the pattern would fade until the hem and the train.  It was difficult to visualize at first until you looked at another dress, already made, and they described the changes in volume and cut with a sketch that made you wish you did have a kamera after all.  

What beauty, wasted on the likes of Il Dottore, you thought as you looked in the mirror and watched as the material reflected light as though it were water.  Such a moment would make any ordinary bride happy but you had never felt more alone in the entire endeavor thus far.

Neither truly balked at the six week time frame when you began discussing deadlines and cost.  Instead, you were reassured that you would have a dress that would keep the rest of the nation talking for years to come.  A grandiose exaggeration, spoken with all the levity one might read a law, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

When you stepped out into the cold again, you were greeted by a familiar mask and cloak; Lord Dottore was standing outside like a large menacing hound, waiting for you.

He said nothing and began to walk away as you pulled your cloak tighter around you to seal away your warmth.  It took you a moment to realize he was walking in the direction of the Palace.

“If you’re finished, my lord, it would be more expedient to take a carriage back,” you advised.  “The snow makes for poor footfalls and the sky might open any minute again.”

Dottore turned his head to gaze over his shoulder at you, his mouth thin.  In turn, you raised your eyebrows, expectant.  It was the same look you gave him when you needed an explanation during an audit.

“I walked down from the Palace,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and the biggest inconvenience to admit.

“So did I.  But the people have seen us together and it would not be fitting for us to be seen trekking back up to the Palace.  We don’t have to be a wholly united front but even you know that the optics of that, in addition to my empty finger, don’t bode well.  Don’t want to be accused of not caring, do you?”

Dottore clicked his tongue as a puff of hot breath streamed from his nose and for a moment, he looked every bit like an angry dragon as he turned and flagged down a nearby coach.  You didn’t miss the smug smirk and sardonic bite when he said, “After you,” and helped you into the closed carriage.  

Silence dominated the ride out of town and back up the hill the Palace sat on.  Your feet ached and now that you were sitting down, you realized how much the day had taken out of you for errands that, normally, wouldn’t have bothered you.  Granted, you hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was well into the afternoon, which didn’t exactly help.  You went through your mental checklist of things to be done as you gazed out the coach window; your thoughts were interrupted by a tap of your shoe from the man across from you.  He withdrew his leg, as much as he could within the confines of the space and extended his hand, which held a tiny box.

Your eyes flicked from the box to his hidden face just once, finding his expression unreadable as always, before you took it from him.

Perched within were two rings of gold so brilliant it looked almost pink, woven into a vine pattern.  The first ring held a sizeable light blue stone so clear it looked as if it could have been carved from ice, flanked by a smaller stone on either side that appeared more purple than blue, iridescent in the way it refracted light.  The setting was dotted with tiny blue stones of the same color and clarity as the centerpiece, resulting in a diamond-shaped cluster.  Beneath it, the accompanying wedding band mimicked the setting, woven vines housing tiny ice droplets, the shape lining up with the other ring exactly so the two nested together.

The sensation from earlier in the dress shop came flooding back.  Such craftsmanship and time went into making such a beautiful piece.  On their own, the rings were stunning, but there was thought in this choice; it matched many of the motifs the man himself used and was known for and it would act as a reminder whenever she wore it.

Something tugged at your stomach before you reminded yourself that this was all for a show, that it didn’t matter.  You blinked away tears faster than they could form.  No.  He didn’t deserve such a thing from you.

But you couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been in that shop looking for something capable of such impact.

“It should keep Pantalone quiet.  Not that anything will ever silence that man’s prattling, especially if he knew how many arms I had to twist to find something suitable.”

Briefly, you recalled the rings on Lord Pantalone’s fingers and how often they were swapped out, save the globus cruciger.  It was not uncommon to hear him remark about the clarity of a stone or the difficulty in obtaining it; the bragging point was often the price and you always refrained from retching every time you heard a figure higher than the last.

You removed your gloves and slipped on the first ring.  It fit perfectly; not that you expected anything less.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, handing him back the box with the wedding band.  “I wasn’t expecting anything quite so…”

“As we’ve agreed, Accountant, this needs to be well beyond believable,” Dottore replied, tucking the box away in his cloak.  “It would have been easy to give you any ring and have this be passable on the surface.  No one questions a diamond ring in high social circles, only how big the diamond is, after all.  However, we have the added thread of plausibility and both of us are aware Regrator scrutinizes everything.  Aquamarine and tanzanite, with reinforced rose gold, in the event one should ask.”

When you’d managed to bring yourself to make the trip down to his workshops, you didn’t expect much from that conversation other than at least a piece of jewelry that would stop all of the lingering stares and whispers.  He’d thrown your expectations out the window.

That was quintessentially him, though, wasn’t it?  To take something and run with it, to push an idea well beyond the expectations and thoughts of others.

Lord Dottore knew it, too, for he adjusted his posture ever so slightly.  Just like he did when he knew you had no other recourse but to give in to his budget requests.

“I’ve held up my end as requested, Accountant.  But I find myself curious: what were you doing at Northland?”

A question you knew he’d been dying to ask ever since he overheard the transaction at the bank.  And you were no longer in a position to deny him the answer, not when he’d not only fulfilled your request but did so well beyond the expectations you held.

Bastard.

He didn’t need to know much, you reasoned.  And you were in no position to not answer.  Defensiveness here would raise too many alarm bells.  

“I…send money to my parents back home.  Most of my pay goes to them to cover bills and expenses.  My father no longer works; my mother spreads herself too thin caring for him and trying to earn a pittance when she can,” you replied.

The words almost choked you to admit them outloud.  No one else, not even your coworkers, knew; Lord Pantalone probably did, at least to some extent.  But it seemed like an unspoken responsibility shouldered by those within the administration spheres and on the field.  The way food was shared during lunch after an admission of missing a meal or the crowd-funding of a night out to raise spirits seemed so contrary to what you expected.  You had chipped in all for the sake of appearances only to be given the same respect in kind.  It wasn’t foreign to you, per se, but after the bankruptcy, it was difficult to find those willing to help your family when all they saw was negligence and bad decisions.

It was nothing to be ashamed about.

To clear the air, you continued.

“They’ve asked for nothing more and I fully intend to only use my wages for such things.”

Lord Dottore tilted his head before he looked away, his gaze seemingly set on the landscaping passing by.  The answer bored him, clearly, as you expected it to.

“I care little for what you do beyond your role but be sure not to neglect yourself for the sake of others.”

Icy rain fell in sheets, pelting the ground in soft plinks as you arrived back at the Palace.  You parted ways without another word and you wished the metal on your finger was as cold as the rain and the man who gave it to you.

Her visit to Haeresys was quite unexpected, to say the least.  Not many people ventured down into the bowels of the Palace unless they absolutely had to.  But for her to not would otherwise lend itself poorly, wouldn’t it?

After all, she was never afraid to speak her mind before.  More than once she has left my ego bruised and my pride singed when she laid out points I’d pushed aside in previous considerations.  Said points were not neglected but rather only issues if they were encountered; when she provided context, more often than not, there was little option but to compromise.  When all is said and done, she too considers the bigger picture, just from a different angle.  No two artists paint the same image even when given the same set of references.  It is one of the few areas of the human experience that is, perhaps, at least intriguing.

Sohreh, for all her fawning, was similar.  At least the Accountant did not blush every time she laid eyes on me.

Such things were what drove my desire to create the prostheses, after all.

The pageantry of all of this…utterly ridiculous.  All of this for the sake of a bet, a gamble; a ladder for Pantalone to get off of my back at the cost of time I will never regain.

How do others pursue this for the sake of emotion?  This is truly joyous for some?  Or is it social convention that dictates one must go this route, to celebrate so widely when so few truly know those exchanging nuptials?

Does one even need emotion, that worthless thing of love, to make these arrangements work?

The historical argument would hold that no, emotion doesn’t matter.  Without that, perhaps something stronger still is erected to replace fleeting desire and heart palpitations and whimsical dreams.  This farce can be plausible without such trivial things.

And Regrator will be proved wrong, as all others before him have been.

Even if it means playing by the convention he expects us to follow.

Us.

Strange to use that in reference to…an existence outside of my own.

Other than her late night gallivanting to demand a ring, I have seen little of her.  Omega has dutifully managed what needed my input and that has allowed me to prioritize.  

The Tsaritsa has already insisted on sending me away and offered up a choice of properties to boot.  A lack of a honeymoon would be forgivable given my position and I would rather stay here and focus on what must be done.  Too much progress has already been made.  But I am in no position to deny Her Majesty’s will and I must also consider the Accountant’s position.  She was already questioned about a ring; I would never hear the end of it from Regrator and it would put her in an even worse position, surely, if we didn’t at least leave the Palace.

Annoying.  Worrying about another’s quality of life.  Their actions.  The impact they’ll have.

I had not expected running into her at the bank, of all places, although I cannot place why.  After all, she’s an accountant and financial assistant.  At the very least, she would be running an errand for work, if not for herself.  That was a normal occurrence for most people.

She’d avoided eye contact with me.  Even looked annoyed when the clerk mentioned transaction details, perhaps under the assumption I would be aware of them.

Not helped by her surprise when I provided my reasoning for needing her company.  What did she think, that I would be severing her body?  I am aware of the fear about me that spreads rumors like a plague but she should give me a little more credit than that.  After all, short of the reports given to the Tsaritsa, the Accountant is one of the few who at least can put a value to the work I do.  

Worse still, she looked stiff and uncomfortable during the ring sizing.  The jeweler is one of Regrator’s contacts but to work with anyone else would result in another earful I didn’t want to hear.  Anything detrimental would make its way back to the banker in no time.  But what better way to prove solidarity than throw it right in Regrator’s face?  Acting distant would do us no credit.

I had specifically chosen her for the bite she could give back and in public settings, she was proving to be less reliable than I hypothesized.  

How would she react to public affection, gestures that few would think twice about?  Her skin was still cold from outside when I leaned in.  She hid the dark circles beneath her eyes well enough and by now, the cut on her cheek had healed, leaving behind only a thin line noticeable in the right light.  The scent of parchment and ink clung to her, mingled with whatever floral scent her soap was infused with.

Disgusting.  How could anyone ever find the smell of flowers pleasant?

And then she had the gall to tilt her head and look up at me through her lashes.  A lesser individual might have bought such behavior.

Not me.

She left for her dress appointment and the nagging thought of my own attire came to mind.  Omega was seeing to that.  White with tails, blue and gold accents, all the while bearing the feathery mantle I’ve grown quite fond of.  Why not have a bit of a dramatic flair, after all, if I must go through with all of this?

I should have left the ring to Omega, in hindsight.  He would have come to the same conclusion I did.  All the colors before me were nothing more than structural compounds of specific minerals and a mix of circumstances.  No stone was special when it was broken down into its most basic components.

The deep reds and brilliant rubies were, to the jeweler’s credit, remarkable enough for what they were.  If this were different, perhaps these would have been suitable…

But she has never seen my eyes.  And she likely never will.

Diamonds would be appropriate, if nothing else.  

Rare, resilient.  

Cliche.  

Aquamarine, however…would be a reflection of her homeland, among other things.  Symbolically, it was impossible to go wrong or be misinterpreted.

But the stones nearby, iridescent purple ranging in various shades, were far more unique.  I’d encountered such stones before, in the depths of the desert when taking apart Deshret’s Primal Constructs to reinforce my boots and weaponry during my exile.  Deshret had failed in his attempt to save the people; his legacy meant little to me.

Two colors, then.

The jeweler was quick to accommodate, finding a matching band in no time, but it paled in comparison to the main ring when the stones were properly set.  I had little doubt he would hesitate to inform Pantalone the moment I left.  Paying extra would do little but delay the information anyway.

I found the notion of a band for myself wasteful.  I’d never wear the thing.  It would only get in the way.

But the Accountant was dedicated to portraying the image needed…

Platinum would, at least, survive.

The Accountant finished her appointment not long after I’d tucked both boxes in my pocket and found the shop she’d mentioned.  It was impossible to see the back of the shop from the windows in front, even if I had been curious about her plans and wanted to know.

Which I didn’t.

I just wanted to be done with this entire affair so I could focus on other things.  Usually, I enjoy the process of the experiment; ever since the words left my mouth weeks ago, however…

Perhaps she was feeling something similar.  The look on her face when she stepped out of the shop was not unlike the one from when she first began working in the Palace, when she’d had no choice but to summon me in place of the Segments.  Her smile was strained, her eyes looking at him but clearly elsewhere.

And yet she still managed to dig her heels in about a carriage, of all things.

She’d walked down herself–she wasn’t the type to take an easy route or method anywhere.  The cold was, despite my Delusion, still bitter and dry for me and yet I didn’t think twice about taking the trip on-foot.  Few bothered me and I could go at my own pace.

I should have left her behind.  Why had I gone to the shop to wait for her, anyway?

Other than her protest for a carriage, she was quiet.  Not that I minded.  But her earlier behavior continued to nag, like an irritating fabric in cloying heat.  Was she like the rest after all?

When she took the box and opened it, her pragmatism won out.  It unsettled me that she did not, as most might, gush over the rings, but it sickened me all the more to wish she did.

What use was her praise?

None of this mattered.

The thanks from her lips were genuine enough but something in her face was harder to pin down.  Her eyes were a little watery though and the flush of her cheeks was not just from the brisk wind outside.  I’ll take what reactions I can get out of her…I need to document something, after all.

She kept her main ring and returned the box with the other band inside.  The red leather was still warm when I tucked it away again.

I couldn’t help myself, however, as the moment from the bank came to mind again.  Perhaps she would be pliable, now that I’d played along?  What was the worst that could happen?

Right.  Most still have a family.  Living for centuries desensitizes you to all of those notions.  

Sending money back home is not uncommon, especially among the lower ranks and the administrative branches.  She cared for others.  Not a sentiment I can understand.  

But I do know what it means to rise to every occasion, to come from nothing and fight for every scrap along the way.  As unconventional as it had been, the Akademiya saw to it that I would, in one way or another, find what I wanted out of life.

Her earnestness is unsettling.  Hard work pays off but only when you have something to prove.  At least she knows her boundaries, I suppose.  That should make it all the quicker to find them myself, see how they might break…

That this is nothing more than transactional should make that all the easier.

I left the carriage as soon as the horses pulled to a stop.  She’d managed to shake the doubts instilled in me with nothing more than a few words and a conviction that ran deeper than the icecaps not far from the Palace.  

She was the right choice for this little experiment after all.

#fic: blasphemous rumors #il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore/reader #dottore/female reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore x female reader #female reader #marriage of convenience

[theheirofthesharingan]

I think Itachi should have fled with little Sasuke and let hell break loose in the village between the Uchiha and Konoha. I am not blaming him, I know he would not want such a future for Sasuke and I understand traumatized children have a right to make wrong decisions. I just think he deserved that, to scape a responsibility that was way too big for child, just leave everything for the adults to solve, as it should have been from the beginning. I just like to think in the what ifs. If he could have been really there for Sasuke always. If he had been able to train him, to finally spend time with him freely. If he got the chance to be honest and transparent for once in his life. If he had been free from guilt and atrocious memories. If their bond as brothers would have never been broken...

Itachi was a character whose fate was decided before he was even born. He existed to live for others and then die for Sasuke. He was never transparent to himself, let alone with Sasuke. For him to snap and then leave on impulse, for Sasuke's sake alone, he would have to live a completely different life. In the circumstances he grew up he thought it was his responsibility to stop things from getting worse.

Repeatedly, he was placed in the situations that demanded he acted in a particular way, so the things that were bound to have terrible consequences would not take place. It meant smaller damage, less casualties, and his worst fears not coming true.

Just in case he did leave with Sasuke, he would still not be guilt-free, because coup would happen, Danzo and his henchmen would not spare anyone. While Itachi (with Obito's help) killed everyone quietly, Danzo and his men would have a hard time keeping it a secret. Dissenters of the Hokage might side with the Uchiha, the rest would go against them, and it would be chaos everywhere. Whether war broke out or not, Uchiha clan's honour would forever be tarnished.

Naruto is loosely set in Feudal Japan, in the era of warriors that valued honour more than anything. Loss of life was nothing compared to the loss of honour. In that case, Uchiha would always be remembered as the clan that went against the village and be blamed for treason. Since Obito was involved too (he attacked the village unprovoked when Naruto was born) he would have taken advantage of the situation as well. If we go by his own words in manga he was waiting for an opportunity to start a war (why else was he sneaking into the village?) and if we go by the novels as well, he was also involved in plotting the coup and manipulating Yashiro Uchiha. No way he would sit quietly in case things got out of hand.

Eventually, it would all come to Itachi and his conscience - that he could have stopped things from getting this bad. Everything he did in canon would happen in this timeline as well, with the addition of Sasuke being their target along with Itachi, and Sasuke growing up isolated from civilization with no one to look after him in case Itachi wasn't around or died.

By taking the burden of the massacre on himself, he remained the only bad guy in the picture. The clan was immortalised and remained honourable, Sasuke was safe and alive, war didn't happen. Heck, even Obito would have been remembered as a hero if he didn't start the war. It still came down to Itachi and his conscience because, while he hoped for the smaller damage, the damage he caused was still enough for him to never have a normal life again.

I've always thought that his illness symbolized his insurmountable guilt. And since it's never made clear what disease he was suffering from, in my head, I believe it's the 'heartbreak syndrome'. When emotional trauma becomes too much it weakens your heart muscles. Although one can recover from it, but when you're living in the kind of guilt that he lived, treatment would be futile.

Itachi never had a chance at living a normal life or be there for Sasuke, no matter how much he wanted to.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #ask #anon

[ddoxhan]

destined to be

tears just keep falling, but never to the ground

word count : 0.6k words

genre : angst; longing for someone who was in your life, someone you were so in love with and still is; gn! reader x any aespa member; how does it feel to long for someone so much you forgot how it feels, so numb and dreadful

t/w : none ?? ig

a/n : leaving hurts so much, but being left behind is on another level of agony. what is bound to happen will, yet I couldn't brace myself for it :( anyways enjoy !!

no one told me that losing someone felt like losing everything you thought life was. no one told me goodbyes were this hard to say. no one told me that you were going to be gone the next moment, when we were just laughing about some lame joke that I don't even remember anymore. all I can think of is just you and nothing else, truly.

it feels like all that's left is my body, its frame. I feel, empty. like this void right in the middle of my heart, ceasing the beating because what I do, eat, are only done for the sake of it. one moment I focus on something, the next you'll see me zoning out for the nth time, back to thinking about you.

please, please. let me out of this invisible cage. free me from these deafening cries. relieve me from these suffocating feelings. if I can, I don't want to feel. it hurts to feel now, where I don't deserve to feel happiness and joy without you. neither do I think I deserve to be submerged in this unbearable misery ever since you weren't here anymore.

you'll always be somewhere better, just not beside me. I'll always be somewhere worse, just not beside you. our times will forever be engraved in memories from now on, but I hate it. so much I'd do anything just to have you back because we never wanted this.

maybe you did, but I know if you had a choice, you'd choose to be here. like the old days, like those days we went to the neighborhood convenience store to get ice cream on hot days, like those days we drove for two hours to the amusement park we've always wanted to go, like those days we looked into each other's eyes, full of love and passion. passion to have the other in their embrace for as long as time existed.

people came and went by, but you stayed right here. and so did I, unwilling to leave you behind but that works both ways. even so, that day had come, and you were gone. not with the wind, yet it feels like the winds blowing were whispering in my ears. inaudible, but it had me break down with tears welling in my eyes. they refused to drop to the ground, instead rolling down my cheeks but before that could happen, I wiped them off with my sleeves.

no tears shall be shed to the ground with your departure. for I believe you felt relief, from all the pain and helplessness. watching you in your state, my heart clenches every now and then as you struggled to form your words to express what you felt. all I could do was comfort you and tell you, that it was okay, that it was fine with me if you chose to leave. it wasn't okay, however, I made myself be okay if it meant that you were happy, free.

you may be gone, but I will forever cherish that smile of yours for as long as I remember it and imagine what it would have been if time froze. just for you and me at that moment. just to hear your laughter for the last time, see that bright smile for the last time, feel you by my side for the last time, have you in my arms the last time. I did do all of that, but I'm greedy for more, because I'm still not ready to let you go. no amount time or experience can ever prepare someone for a last farewell.

I shall end the day on this note of yearning and heartaches. words seem powerless before these feelings I am feeling, but I guess,

"I miss you"

works just fine. there will be a day where I'd come find you, and we'd never be separated again. having you in my embrace, as we catch up on everything we had missed through long, long strings of time.

#karina #giselle #winter #ningning #yu jimin #uchinaga aeri #kim minjeong #ning yizhuo #aespa #aespa angst #aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa drabbles #aespa x reader #karina x reader #giselle x reader #winter x reader #ningning x reader #Spotify

[mementoboni]

[part 2/4] DIR EN GREY WOWOW Interview & Document (2020)

“There is no answer to what I/we want to convey. There are 10 different ideas for 10 people, so just find your own answer.” — Toshiya

Notes before reading:

The whole interview is divided into 8 topics, and the translation is divided into 4 parts. This is the second part, including the 3rd and 4th topics. The details of all topics and time markers are 👉 here.

I have added Chinese subtitles for this video in 2021. The whole interview was very meaningful, and I hope that with the English translation, more people can understand what they're talking about.

The five members were interviewed separately and then edited into a video, so the words spoken by each of them are not necessarily coherent.

Repost and share are welcome.🙌 I translated it all by my ears, so please feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts.☺️

--- --- ---

03. Performance

►About Stage Performance

Kyo: If I don't want to stay on stage, I won't sing even in LIVE. When we're on tour, I don't do things like think about how the song should be performed, or think that it feels good to sing like this. All in all, I just express myself 100% freely at that moment. Toshiya: You must be honest with yourself. There are bound to be ups and downs in the human condition, and I can't do the so-called perfect performance. If it's the same performance every time, there would be no value for me to exist. However, I will do my best to maximize my performance on that day, and I want to be honest with myself on that point. Die: For the band, LIVE is everything, and I joined the band because I wanted to be on stage. It's like the space of the live house has become a part of everyday life. Standing on stage, I feel fresher and nervous than before, and I want to take it more seriously. Shinya: I hope it will be enjoyable for everyone to watch. I will pay special attention to the hand part and think about how to move. Kaoru: It should be a place where you can come face to face with yourself. Both my good self and my bad self will appear on stage. From that point of view, it's like a place where I can face myself.

►The Unforgettable Stage

Kyo: Now I don't remember most of what happened in LIVE. However, I still remember when I was injured, when I couldn't hear, and when my voice became hoarse and I couldn't speak. Die: The LIVE that I am satisfied with. It's not just this kind of time, but those LIVE that I think I'm useless, or I feel regretful, I will remember especially clearly. Kyo: Although I could barely sing in LIVE at that time, it was more fulfilling for me than regular LIVE, and I found it very interesting.  I could try a lot of things, like what I could do in such a situation in exchange for something. It's fun when you have no choice and have to find a way to break out of a difficult situation. Kyo: I am the type of person who remembers bad memories more clearly than good things.  The same goes for food. Once you've eaten something delicious, you want to eat it again, but when it's hard to eat, it's particularly impressive. I've eaten curry with no taste. It smells like curry, but tastes like no taste.  It's like Coca-Cola Zero Sugar, that kind of impression and LIVE is the same reason, right?  No...Taste... Although it smells like curry. LIVE also feels the same way, right? (laughs) (*I love how Kyo takes food as a metaphor😆) Kyo: If you keep thinking about a good LIVE, you will want to aim for that.  That's too boring, so it's better to not remember it and explore it. It's nice not to have to do the same thing over and over again.

►Moment of State Switching

Toshiya: Sou desu ne…when I walk to the side of the stage, there is a clear sense of switching. Die: Not necessarily, depending on the situation that day, there was a lot of confusion. I change my state when I walk up to the stage and get ready to gather and leave the stage. Kaoru: I will be nervous. I'll be nervous 100 times when there are 100 LIVEs, and I'll still be nervous at the 101st show. Well, I'm very nervous. Shinya: I switched states when I sat in front of the drum kit and hit the first drum. Before I played the drums, I was just a normal person on stage, and I was still a normal person when I sat in front of the drum kit. (Staff: Isn't that a little late?) Shinya: Yeah, it was a little late. I was just a normal person when I threw the drumsticks at the end of the last beat. Kyo: I walked out when the SE was playing, and nothing changed 10 seconds before the show started. At the extreme, I can sleep until 5 seconds before the start of the show. I don't rehearse much, but the lighting and sound technician will be very troubled if I'm not there. If I don't need to rehearse, I'll just go over 5 seconds before the show. Kyo: In fact, I would like to tie a live house in Tokyo, DIR EN GREY will only hold LIVE there, I will move in advance and walk in the live house 5 seconds before the start of the show, everyone will also go in, right? When the SE starts, call me at my home and I'll walk over there. This is my biggest dream. 🤣🤣

►Stand on the Stage

Die: I can say that all my efforts are to perform on stage, that's all I have. It's not like I can go on stage casually, after all, I'm also a person with limits. Toshiya: When I originally planned to form a band, I did it because I wanted to make music, not because I wanted to play at LIVE, which I did at first. If you're making music because you want to play LIVE, you're just putting the most effort into the LIVE thing, right? Kyo: I used to make music because I wanted to do a live show. Now there is almost no LIVE, although I have thought about it a lot… If only there could be LIVE, but if not, well, well… That's it. Shinya: I think the stage is the place where people can get to know more than the album, and other things that are expressed through sound. Kaoru: To be honest, compared to the past, I'm much happier with the LIVE now, and I really want to do it. I didn't feel this way before. Originally, I used to go on stage naturally and easily, perform and then finish, and that was probably the best. But gradually, I feel more and more the weight of each LIVE, "I have to do something to show everyone", that feeling is getting stronger and stronger. Kaoru: To me, if I lost the stage, I would have nothing. It's very important, but it's also hard. In that sense, it's like life*. (*Note: 人生／jinsei)

. . .

04. Music Clip

►The process of producing Music Clip

Kyo: Basically, Kondo-san* is in charge of our PVs, and we discussed with the director, combining the imagery of the lyrics and the director's ideas before shooting. (*Note: Kondo-san = Kondo Hiroyuki，近藤廣行) Die: The director would filter out some of the imagery, and sometimes the imagery that was taken out would reappear, and we would talk about it while we continued to shoot. On the contrary, those that we haven't thought about, those that we can't imagine may be more interesting. Things that we have never seen or tried may often be selected and photographed from this aspect. Kaoru: But there are also times when we can't express ourselves, such as "red (赤)" or "flowing images." Sometimes even we don't understand very well. If an idea pops up, we will exchange ideas with each other. Toshiya: Although we created it in the first place, the scope of the project was gradually expanded to achieve that effect, and it would not have been possible without the staff associated with DIR EN GREY. To put it further, they are the ones who made DIR EN GREY what it is now. Shinya: Almost 99.9% of the music-related parts were produced by the members. However, since the video is expressed through the director, it is important to have a sense of trust between the members and the director.

►Differences between "Video" and "Music" Expressions

Kaoru: The feeling of moving outward from the foundation of the music is strong, as if something had come out of it. Of course, we're expressing what we want to express, but the video is a little different from what we do. It can be used as a second way of expressing music, but I don't think it's going to be the same. Die: Sometimes the video is not always directly related to the lyrics of the song. There are times when the result is completely different from what we thought it would be, and the perspective of the music changes accordingly. But the most important part is usually hidden deep in the music, and that's why we make videos. Toshiya: Just the video alone can make people feel that "pain". And the sound of the music will impact the hearing and make people feel the pain as well, that's what I think. Without these two things, it would be impossible to build the worldview of DIR EN GREY. I want to try something that no one has done yet.

►Things want to Convey through Video

Shinya: I think it's about expressing the deep content of the music, the worldview of the lyrics, and so on. Kaoru: Sometimes it's the theme of the song itself, sometimes not always. After all, it's useless to look at painful images every time. In each moment, something interesting, something that is interesting to us, we just make something that we want to express. Die: So I think it's good to have more than one music video. There can be other versions, so that the imagination can be expanded. Kyo: Just putting music and lyrics in a way that's easier to understand, I don't have anything to convey myself… I don't think it's meaningful if it doesn't seem stimulating. Toshiya: There is no answer to what I/we want to convey. There are 10 different ideas for 10 people, so just find your own answer.

(To be continued...)

--- --- ---

part 1. & part 3. & part4.

topics & time marks

中文翻譯 (My Blogger) part 1. & part 2. & part 3.

#dir en grey #kaoru #薰 #kyo #京 #die #toshiya #shinya #interview #interview 2020 #translations #video translation #diru translation #translation by yinfu #diru wowow 2020 #WOWOW interview #long post

[sandsmand]

44. and I’m talking INFODUMP. PARAGRAPHS. not some measly little fact 🔫

/nf

If one wishes to become a post apocalyptic warlord they must first understand the basics of how societies form.

The first feudal societies formed around who controlled the food, or depending on where you lived, the water. Eventually the system of "you work for food" became "you make sure they work for food, I don't care how" which gave rise to the first class pyramids. Because roads were unsafe and the wheel was non existent, the easiest way to survive with your fellow humans was to band together into cities where you could get what you wanted from your neighbors instead of a few miles over. As cities consolidated, homesteaders would tame the surrounding lands and provide more food so the city could specialize further into things such as astronomy or metalworking. The city would inevitably build walls as a testament to its power, but also to deter violent invaders from taking everything they worked so hard for.

In our anarchic wasteland, there will be a 2-6ish month grace period of denial where people will be looking for their loved ones and trying to rebuild the familiar world instead of warlordmaxxing. An opportunistic monarch of misery should ascertain the new world. Humans need food, water, and shelter. All of these will allow for a small fiefdom, but for a true empire you must discover a new 4th thing, and whoever finds out what that is first is bound to be Khagan of the new order. It is important to note that there may not be a 4th thing, this however, will not deter a true warlord. Politicians have been able to convince millions of people of the most ridiculous nonsense for centuries as an excuse to surrender their freedoms in exchange for something they don't need- or better yet, the system created a dependency on. That was with competing sources of information, in the post apocalypse, nobody is going to be setting up a competitive journalist organization, so you've got free reign over that- and anyone who does can be 'convinced' to work for you.

Reality is subjective, and once you control the media you can make something as objective and undisputed as the rising sun a clementine by simply saying "nuh-uh" enough times. There will be competing pseudo states in the wasteland to challenge your influence, but whereas their soldiers are fighting for the right to avoid paying your taxes, yours are fighting to break up a group of nazi sympathizers before they join some warlord who will indulge their ideas. Violent conquest is not the only method of expansion; slowly influencing another city until it does what you say, providing markets for villages, and trading with independent states as an excuse to found trade road-cities are all viable methods of expanding influence and population. There are no borders in the wasteland. Only who pays tribute to whom, what the local currency is, and who's soldiers don't get stabbed. All of which can change.

Currency developed as an alternative to barter, whereas instead of haggling over how many cows was equal to however many goats, you could just sell the cow for money and haggle over how many goats that money is worth. Money as we know it today was first used as an official document that could be exchanged for actual currency at a later date, usually issued as I.O.U's by governments that didn't have any money at the time. Merchants would soon start trading these notes as it was as good as gold to them. Only that it was easier to carry. Fiat currency was introduced in the late modern era to facilitate capitalism because the world's gold reserves didn't have enough gold in them for every I.O.U to actually be worth something. The secret 4th thing that allowed 21'st empires to thrive is money, more specifically, the dependence society creates on it. People could amass hundreds of thousands, or even millions in hypothetical debt (or wealth) that they weren't expected to pay back because the money wasn't real anymore. For seemingly the whole world, this was normal.

Thankfully for our empire, people have gotten used to their money being functionally worthless, and as a centralizing warlord, your imperial currency can be anything ranging from junk metal with your face stamped on it to something as silly as bottle caps. An imperial currency can be pegged to that 4th thing at a set exchange rate, or if that 4th thing is taking too long to discover, it may be fiat money. If another state with it's own system discovers that 4th thing and pegs it's currency to that then the economic influence (read: borders) of your aspiring warlord state will be greatly undermined, as force, food, safety, and not having to pay tariffs if they exist are the only things keeping certain territories within the empire. It is possible to dominate an entire nation just by them using your currency, the strength of which is tied to your influence. The more places accept your currency the stronger it is, the stronger it is, the more places will accept it. There will be many currencies in the post apocalypse, and it is important to let them exist, but not thrive, as a centralized monetary system is another barrier between the in-group and out-group. A warlord must not become stiff in their ways however, as the only difference between economic suzerainty and imperial vassalage is a handshake and a good hit of a substance of your choosing.

(Lemme know if you want a part two on how to expand our warlord empire 😙🤘🩵)

#mild mental illness posting #rediscovered my love if writing - even if its not that great #thanks anon! #asks #personal essay #post apocalypse #warlording

[capsensislagamoprh]

Victor looked over the garden view, wondering how Christophe managed to get a better room than he did. Pinsion Padre was a standard hotel, as places with standards go, a mere three hundred m from the Ostrava, which was nice. It also meant Yakov could time his escapades to and from to the minute. Getting to take a break with Chris was hard. They were both trying for the gold at the WFSJC, though one was bound for disappointment. Was it wrong to hope it was him? To even think about wanting it more than his friend?

"You are radiating deep, winter sleep." Christophe said quietly, propping his chin on the Ice King's shoulder. "What has you thinking?"

"I suppose," Victor hummed, "I feel constrained."

"Why?"

Victor shrugged. His eyes closed as he leaned back. "Do you think it will always be this way? Timed, carded, tracked, restrained, bound by rules?"

"It's possible. It may not be. You have to make life what you want it to be. It's not so easy to do that here. You have to fight for what you want. Through odds, preconceptions, your own doubt. There's more to life than life itself."

A silver brow rose. "Sr. Giacometti! Such a sentiment from a spring court fey lord!"

"My dear, Victor," Christophe trilled, "even a winter fey knows the value of life."

Victor scowled, pushing himself upright. "I do, and I want it, yet forever am I besieged by obstacle to my path of joy! The world rages in ice and fire, and I can't even get a room with a view! Seriously," he spun, hands pressing into Christophe's shoulders. "How did you manage it?"

"Booked ahead."

"Body parts in trade are considered taboo in the material realm." The blank, sanity considering look turned his way made Victor repent, if only for a moment. "There must be some way to feel alive while we're here and see if we can find our prey."

"Prey, is it?"

"Yuri is. Sort of. No. I just miss the whimsy."

"Min nära följeslagare... Are we planing a daring escape?"

Victor smiled. Christoph sighed. "Very well. Let us flee."

"Really?!"

"As long as we're back by check in, they need never know. After all, we're still minors here, but until that time, it's on them to know where we are, yes?"

Victor smiled. It reminded Christophe his friend was 'born' into Russia, where all fey were dangerous creatures, terrifying in there might. "Right."

"Come. We still have time to slip into the crowds, lost among disorder, to escape into the city itself," the spring fey cooed, bating Victor until he bent. Grasping the blond's arm, the Ice King beamed, ready to take on the whole of wonder if it gave him even a drop of glamour to enjoy the living.

They ran to the stairs, steps a mere memory. Jumps and laughs echoed thrugh the tunneling spiral as they dashed past doors. At the ground, they peaked out, slipped along the wall, desperate not to laugh until they were free. The outside world would know the sound of fey mischief, it would tremble, it would cry out in pleasure to know they existed. For five minutes. Their coaches caught them in the lobby. Christophe's coach raised a brow, shaking his head in sad disappointment. Yakov looked as if his head were a cartoon explosive.

The world gave them reprieve. "Let them go," Josef sighed. "They are in a new city. They are young." Yakov frowned.

"They are young! They cannot go in a new city alone!"

"Christophe, do you have your phone?"

"Yes."

"Set an alarm. You have until nine thirty this night to be back in your room. Same for Mr. Nikiforov. You will eat a balanced supper, and should I catch a wiff of junk food or you are a second late, I will let Yakov have at you both. Then Madame Baranovskaya, who is due to meet with us for lunch in less than three minutes. She is punctual."

It took the fey a second to recognize what was being offered. Victor peered at Josef for a long moment. He was emitting a rainbow halo. Christophe seemed to radiate with joy. His eyes went wide. Josef was feeding Christophe glamour based on trust! It was so potent he could barely see when he turned, arm grabbed by his friend, racing them out the door.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24

#YoI #Yuri on Ice #yuri k #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #yuri plisetsky #otabek altin #victor x yuuri #otabek x yurio #otayuri #victuuri #gay boys on ice #fey bois on ice #we live for this #WoD frame work #WE SAIL THIS SHIP TO THE STARS! #coming down from a two day migraine #little off schedule #but it's here #this one took some time #i had to look some stuff up #they are in the Czech Republic at the 2003 Jr Worlds

[bigwishes]

Love your blog! The idea of helping guys with their wishes to be big sexy hunks! Do you need any help? Haha hos that for a wish! I would like to be a sexy genie able to help you grant these wishes. Looking forward to a beautiful friendship.

Hey bro, a genie really? I don't think you know what that entails. but a wish is a wish, so let me grant your heart's desire! You feel your body change, muscle expands outwards from you skinny frame as you grow larger and larger. Your height increases to an inhuman 10ft as you bump your head on the roof your growth begins to slow and stop. You aren't bodybuilder sized more like a giant sexy frat boy, Your skin darkens a few shades as your hair curls. Your face and chest itch as thick black hair climbs all over your body. You scratch it giving a moan, it feels incredible to have your itchy chest hair scratched on top of your massive pecs. The thought of cursing a guy who asks for true love to just be your personal chest scratcher crosses your mind and in that moment your body is flooded with cosmic power, the ability to reshape reality and break the laws of nature at your finger tips, that's why your body was made so much bigger than a mortal man's, it need to be built to contain this kind of power.

"now its time to take this power for a spin" you think

But not so fast buddy, you see I'm a recently freed genie, I spent a lot of time being traded from master to master, more years than your family tree has probably existed and I don't think its very fair for you just to get all this power free of charge, so I made you a very special pair of shorts. These brilliantly blue shorts will be your chains. You can try your hardest to take them off but they'll never come off, how silly of me I didn't think about your dick. At least when I was sitting waiting to be found for gaps of 100 years or so I had the pleasure of well...pleasure, but you my friend, well I hope the next guy that meets you frees you because otherwise it may be a few thousand years before you touch your manhood again.

But what is done is done, no point freaking out about not touching yourself, don't worry it'll still get hard you just wont be able to relieve it. Now to find you a "bottle" mine was a traditional lamp but it can really be anything really, and I think I have the perfect idea... how about a bodybuilding trophy? you said you want to help men become absolute hunks and reach their dream bodies well you got it man, lets limit that cosmic power to only being able to grant wishes around fitness and the body, this curse will break if you get freed don't worry, then you'll be free to use all the power of reality.

That's it mate, your new crib, but now where can I leave you. Well as a guy who wished to grant wishes for guys who want their dream body, and now as a genie who is bound to only grant wishes surrounding bodybuilding, fitness and the male body I think there is only one place to go. That's right, a gym!

Damn, this place looks pretty run down and that trophy case looks like it hasn't been opened in years, whelp genie 'bottles' are often found in forgotten spaces so I think I'll leave you there for now. Enjoy your time in your bottle, I'm sure someone will find you eventually and put you to work.

oh shit, if I cursed you to only grant wishes around those few things, it looks like no guy could wish you free by yourself. fuck bro, my bad, maybe you'll get lucky and get a really nice master with a second genie he'll use to free you, but for now, lets put you behind a larger trophy, don't want you found in 2 seconds now, do we?

#male transformation #muscle transformation #muscle #reality change #male tf #tf story

[an-unraveling-unknown]

My thoughts on Undertale and philosophy

This short thought barf has so many holes and ramblings and the concept in itself could probably be explained far better by the countless video essays that genuinely had hard work into them and I recommend them no questions asked but I need to gush and further procrastinate on my French or else my brain will eat itself and explode (I’m sorry Ms. L)

Undertale is a game based in Nihilism that wants you to think that it’s based in Existentialism, while simultaneously having elements of both. Oough okay here we go

The basic outline for Nihilism is that nothing matters and we’re all going to perish unceremoniously. In broader terms, everything and anything we do as human beings does not change anything, it doesn’t matter, we are bound to fate and there is no meaning to life - meaning is a social construct per se. 

Existentialism, however, was created in more optimistic direct opposition to Nihilism, saying that we make meaning. We are defined by our existence, in our actions, who we are, people must choose a direction and meaning in life. 

Undertale happens to juggle both of these with humor upon a polka-dotted unicycle with mirth in its eyes.

One of the coolest things about the Undertale is that its game mechanics are a very real part of the world. You die, you can reset, you can reset at any point whatsoever, whether you choose mercy or fight or both has a specified outcome, you have control. A few select characters know this, like Flowey and Sans, but they can’t really do anything to stop you if you’re determined enough because determination is in ALL human souls - the will to keep living and change fate. It is RIGHT THERE is the description, Existentialism, where we make meaning, where we are in control, where we can change fate because we are determined to make meaning. Everything matters because we think it does (which could also tie into trying to decipher the story and make sense of things where they are chaotic and unknowable, like the elusive W.D Gaster. That, and that’s what a lot of the games were striving for at the time - rewarding the player by making sense, for all the puzzle pieces to satisfyingly click together.)*

But no matter how you play the game, Genocide route or Neutral or Pacifist, no matter what you do, you always end up back in the underground. If Chara goes up to the surface and presumably murders everyone she sees or something along those lines, it all resets. If Flowey decimates you and does whatever he does, it all resets. If you die in a fight with a monster, if Asgore defeats you and uses your determination soul to break the surface barrier, if you do the morally correct thing and find a way to break the barrier so the monsters can be free from the underground’s confines, it all has to reset.

The Monsters cannot truly go back up to the surface, and neither can you. 

Everything you did, all that you accomplished to help them, to break the mold, or to betray them and slaughter them all (or just a select few,) as a whole, It did not matter. What’s more, you will likely reset, regardless of any ending. You may reset, again and again and again, perhaps to see what will happen because of human curiosity, mayhaps because its just a really good game, or perhaps to subconsciously get proper closure - but regardless of any of these, you always end up back in the underground. You cannot win, but isn’t that what games are for?

The only way to ‘win’ at this game is to never play it, really.

Undertale game mechanics are a very real part of the world built up around it and is a game that is self-aware in more ways than one - it knows what you do, it judges you for it, and it knows you cannot get out.

HOWEVER, like most things, there are two sides to that coin.

In all of this, you’re allowing yourself to have Determination - Hope. That’s what’s keeping you going as you claw and scrape your way through fights and levels of the story, what’s keeping you kind through the pacifist run (it takes a lot of effort to be kind sometimes, that’s not for nothing), that’s what’s keeping the Monsters going, the hope that they’ll see the surface again, that you can help, that again and again and again is hope. You are all in a perpetual state of hope.

Isn’t that an incredibly human thing to be?

Even better, that’s the games point. That we can come together, respect our differences and get along. Regardless of who we are, we are all bounded together by determination and hope. We can, and should care for each other, and learn and grow.

Heck, in the act of doing all this, we are making meaning, Cos’ we play games and everything feels alright for a bit.

“The human soul can be indomitable” Hell yeah it can.

#maybe the real meaning was the friends we made along the way but literal /pos #I don’t even know what time it is I think I started this at 3:36 and then I had a snack and blinked and now its dark outside #If this makes no sense I’m so sorry I think I’ll be able to clean it up a bit later #undertale #toby fox #hyperfixation go brrrr #aimless rambling #brain in shambles #face first in the brambles #where am I going with this #oh god it’s 1:12 oh no oh heck #Alright goodnight and thank you for coming to my TED talk

[spectresyne]

would you ever consider making video content of your model design/animation process?

or give any advice to someone who’s desperately trying to break into mod creation 😸

Wow, hello! I never get messages here, haha. Unfortunately, I'm like.. genuinely terrible at trying to teach what I know to others, and I'm not even sure my computer could handle recording a video while still working the programs I use. Not reliably, for sure. I can try to offer advice, but on more of a question-and-answer basis. It's hard for me to know where to even begin if someone doesn't ask about what exactly they're aiming to create, first, y'know? idk if that makes any sense. As far as mod creation goes, I have nothing to offer- I don't know how to code a mod in java. I've only made models using the infrastructure of existing mods and plugins, namely Optifine, MorePlayerModels, and ModelEngine, and a lot of vanilla work lately, too. These all involve some kind of coding, but it's pretty strictly limited to .json files, and nothing with actual java code.

I self-taught myself everything I know. Found out Blockbench was free, opened it up a few years ago, and just started brute forcing my way into making it do the thing I wanted (at that time, it was making a horse into a griffon with optifine. 'Start small' is not really my M.O.)

I looked up a lot of documentation for the plugins and mods I was using. Those helped a lot, as did searching up minecraft's own resources (they put a lot of articles and guides out for making this stuff, nowadays, though it's more for bedrock than java.) I also opened up things that others made and released, just to see how they did things- eventually I could pick them apart and kind of reverse-engineer the ideas to understand what I should be doing, too, with my own work. I encourage anyone wanting to learn to do this to my work, too! Bust 'em open and tear 'em apart, get at the inner workings! You can always re-download the file if you break it beyond repair :D Understanding the base of what I had to work with went a long way toward knowing just what I can make a 3D model do when it came to Blockbench, such as knowing if it could use emissive glow textures, animations (texture or model based kinds), or translucency. Or even knowing just how hard I can push an animation- for example, with MPM, animations can do a LOT, but it takes a lot of fiddling to make, say, a realistic quadruped walk cycle fit into the very short window of time the minecraft walk animation plays for. Because with MPM, there's no way to control the time of an animation- only the amount of frames within it. Stuff like that. And that's different for every mod, so you'll have to look into the one you're using, or making, and work within its bounds. I do tons of trial-and-error of loading and reloading things in-game to see what something I changed will do... then go back to fix whatever broke in the process. I often have to redo this kind of thing even for techniques I've done before, because I forget to take notes, and then also forget what I did correctly in the first place. It's kind of awful lmao. Anyway, this became a huge ramble and I don't think I even answered the questions very well... sorry.

#minecraft #ask #3D modeling #text #blockbench

[horizon-verizon]

Your opinion / analysis of this situation when Aemond has the crown on his head?

“It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

It’s pretty simple, really, for me.

Aemond has been told to go for power and it has defined his entire life, yet he is also trying to perform submission for the sake of duty and for power to go into someone who has not done the labor he feels he has done, which goes in direct conflict with his nurtured self and the very notion of feudal privilege. But that’s a green for you. Don’t know that they hate or even resisting against the thing they are advocating or using for their own ends.

I think this is also the very self-conflict that drives him to burn the riverlands, rape Alys and take her as his war prize, hate his Velaryon nephews, etc.

.........................................................................................................

This SCENE occurs before the scene anon pulls the below from:

“You must rule the realm now, until your brother is strong enough to take the crown again,” the King’s Hand told Prince Aemond. Nor did Ser Criston need to say it twice, writes Eustace. And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror. “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed. Yet Aemond did not assume the style of king, but named himself only Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent. Ser Criston Cole remained Hand of the King.

(“The Red Dragon and the Gold”)

 Aemond becomes the “Prince Regent” after Criston tells him that he has to. After fighting Rhaenys and Meleys, Aegon got gravely injured and had to remain in bed for most of the year and so was out of the action and unbale to really rule.

I see Aemond as wanting to be the one “destined” instead of Aegon (like how a firstborn son is to be the inheritor of certain privileges, authority, and status) and that want coming from a lifetime of putting socially acceptable behavior and expectations before his own desires. 

It is an intense form and hint of self-repression, basically. 

@rhaenyragendereuphoria says THIS about feudalist societies: “However, no one is given rights in these societies, not even men - not the way we would define rights. Their idea of "right" is just as arbitrary as their idea of "freedom". They are societies based on privileges, and privileges are always revocable, unlike rights.”

And more HERE:

Feudalism is a system of servitude based on giving up your freedom in exchange of protection by a higher lord. It binds serfs to their lords, and lords to other lords all the way to the king. Yes, the whole "Protector of the Realm" is propaganda, but it's what they believe the job of the king to be. They will give it to the strongest who can protect them from foreign invasions: and it's hard to think of stronger than "family that literally owns dragons". This fandom has feudal mentality completely upside down, thinking they loathe their subjugation because subjugation is an affront to freedom. Feudalism IS subjugation. What they loathe is to submit to a weakling. They despise (and hunt, and murder) the Free Folk, calling them "wildlings", because they'd rather be free than be bound by feudal oaths of subjugation. Feudalism is the rule of "might makes right". At its roots, it's a military hierarchy of warlords who bind each others with feeble and fickle treaties until one of them decides to break them and attempt to conquer the others, and either wins or fails. This is not the system under which our notion of imperialism or colonialism can exist. It's nit even fascist/nazi per se as the latter can only exist as a reaction to feudalism going extinct, after it's been supplanted by constitutional and democratic regimes. Fascism/Nazism is feudal LARPing.

You see, Aemond looks for validation in doing what he thinks and has been taught is his “duty”, which is this submitting and fighting to keep someone else, no matter how dangerous or incompetent they are, in power. And in his case, that is Aegon II, his own brother. 

You know, aside from making even more protests or even defections against the Greens if he had just taken the crown and the position of king.

Often in historical/fantasy dramas you will come up against characters who have to find a way to satisfy their familial obligations (honor your father, and your mother -- it’s not just Christian) versus their feudal obligation to their ruler because sometimes these things come into direct conflict or ask the person to sacrifice something they value dearly.

Or we can think about Ned Stark, what he decided for himself, Lyanna and his family versus what he knows Robert would have wanted from him.

#aemond's characterization #aemond targaryen #Fire and Blood #fire and blood comment #characterization #criston cole #aemond and criston #feudalism #westerosi feudalism #definition of feudalism #targaryens as colonizers #the greens #the greens' characterizations

[vocalyrics]

Mr. Schadenfreude - Translyrics

Mod's choice

Free to use and modify with credit

Schadenfreude: a person who shamelessly enjoys the suffering of others.

NOTE: Some parts of the song have discrepancies between the subtitles and what is being said. The way I've chosen to format this is SUBTITLE [WHAT IS BEING SAID]

-

“For an unforgivable sin, revenge and salvation will begin,”

As the curtains rise, a devilish deed, oh, Mr. Schadenfreude

Give a kiss to your despair, pathetically cling as you hang on air,

And savor that pathetic LIFE [SIN]... Infinity. ∞

-

==ORACLE==

“A noble devil of ancient times will manifest, and so one of you will be possessed.

Full of mercy and wearing their skin, it'll bring DEATH [SALVATION] to your souls full of sin.”

Next to The Priestess who is in a detached sort of voice reading,

THE FIFTH VILLAGER [THE TWIN] breaks down crying, and The Undertaker starts embalming.

But in this Devil's game this is naught but the beginning,

And until THE HUMANS OR THE DEVIL [EITHER SIDE] goes extinct, it won't be over.

-

“The culprit can only be one of us!”

“Who on earth would do such a thing...?”

“The devil, the game, or whatever... I don't care.”

“Haah!? Who did it!? Come on, cough it up already!”

“A demon, really? Such things don't exist.”

“No need to worry, after all, THE KNIGHT IS [I am] here to protect you!”

-

Cheating each other in absurdity?

Is this a gambit of uncertainty?

What's the devil's modus operandi?

“Are you Mr. Schadenfreude?”

The game of hangman is ready,

Who is it that will get the DEATH [TROPHY]?

And can we put an end to this Massaker*?

-

==ORACLE==

“A noble devil of ancient times is filled with spite, and so it has saved the pitiful knight,

Now that it has made its move from within, it will bring DEATH [SALVATION] to your souls full of sin.”

Next to The Priestess who is in a detached sort of voice reading,

THE SECOND VILLAGER [HIS BEST FRIEND] starts shouting, and The Undertaker keeps embalming.

It's almost as if you're treating someone [SICK] RECOVERING? [LAUGHS]

If this arrogant plot of “salvation” keeps going on...

-

“I guarantee I'll have the devil hanged by evening.”

“I'll finally be able to have my revenge!”

“Don't you get it? No matter what you do, we'll all die.”

“Oh, cut it out with the pointing fingers already! If you want to blame someone, then please hang [THE THIRD VILLAGER] ME!”

“By the way, could you please explain why I found [THE SECOND VILLAGER'S] YOUR choker on the corpse?”

-

Has accusing become an addiction?

Is it a fair judgement of conviction?

Start the devil's crucifixion -

Give up, Mr. Schadenfreude!

With trembling hands we pray,

As the corpse on the gallows starts to sway,

Until we're off the stage, it won't end: Richten*.

-

[REVERSED: IS THE IMMORTAL FINALLY COMPLETED?

“I DON'T WANT TO DIE” HE IS SHOUTING.

YOUR DESTINY.

NOW, ETERNAL LIFE IS SUFFERING;

SELFISHLY,

YOU HOLD A GRUDGE AGAINST ME.]

-

The bell signaling the dawn rings without making a sound,

As if guarding The Priestess, who's [DEAD] SOUND ASLEEP and bound.

She killed herself in the graveyard, [THE FOURTH VILLAGER] THAT GIRL's laying dead on the ground

What it says on the [SUICIDE NOTE] LETTER she holds: “COME AND [KILL] SAVE ME AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN!”

-

Rather than being remembered as a deceiver,

Isn't it better to be saved as a victim?

Is it time to awaken the [SCHADENFREUDE] NATURE hidden?

“Someone's [DEATH] SUFFERING's a good feeling...”

“Who” was it that arranged this [DEVIL'S GAME] WHOLE THING?

“Someone” who wants us to believe it's the devil's deeds...

...Who is that [someone] behind this...?

Who's to blame?

-

It seems that there's a necrophiliac in our midst,

[THE UNDERTAKER IS] YOU'RE the devil, and don't you even dare resist!

That's so disgusting and profane... It's hard to believe you [LIKE IT] EXIST!

Oh?

Being a [CORPSE PRO] FUNERAL AGENT is my job,

So it's only natural that [CORPSES] THEY are the ones whom I love.

And about those [CORPSES] THAT I had loved, every single last one of them was human.

-

The more pathetic your excuse is,

The more it is that you'll seem foolish!

At last, we know who the devil is -

You are Mr. Schadenfreude!

At last, to celebrate the devil's defeat

The survivors pour a drink for victory;

But then [THE ONE] I, who have [GONE INSANE] MADE A MISTAKE...

...In eternal sleep, will never suffer heartache.

-

In a [IMMORTAL] HOPELESS world, will you run away

Or in a dance with [THE DEVIL] ME will you be led astray?

This failed salvation lost it's way -

Ease your mind in a golden slumber.

Never fulfilling the dream that you clutch,

The curtains drop for the final [SALVATION] TOUCH;

So that in the end none of us will be left behind...

And so in the end none of them survived... again. ∞

-

*Massaker: German for "massacre"

*Richten: German for "judgement"

#translyrics #tw death #mr schadenfreude #hitoshizuku x yama #kagamine rin #kagamine len #meiko vocaloid #meiko sakine #hatsune miku #gumi megpoid #megpoid gumi #gumi vocaloid #megurine luka #gackpoid #kamui gakupo #vocaloid #vocaloid english

[ot-hoe-me]

OC: Gabrielle Dupont

For IF: @veirsewrites​

Gabrielle Dupont - High Vampire and owner of the nightclub astrium (yes all lowercase.)

Astrium - latin word meaning “hearth” she so named her club in the spirit it was built - to be a place that is open and welcoming to anyone to cut loose free of worry, regardless of species, including humans. Her long term hope being that it could be a foundation to bridge (ha) the gaps between humans and the various supernaturals to one day create a harmonious, peaceful existence. She will protect this dream and those who share it (her employees) until her (final) dying breath.

LI(s): Arlo Martin Moreno (Main), (Edith) Eddie Reagan, The Insurgent (...if it’s Gabriel...awkward moment when you’re dating someone with a different-gender-variant of your own name smh)

Orientation: Biromantic Demisexual

Fang Type: Top and bottom canines

Club Aesthetic: Gold and Black with the fancy glittery chandeliers, not mentioned but astrium also has midnight blue accents (like velvet curtains, throw pillows on the couches, paint colour on the walls in the washrooms that sort of thing.)

Main Hobby: Music

Relationships:

Arlo Martin Moreno - No matter what route she’s on, the two of them are going to be ex-lovers. Gabrielle was embarrassed and heartbroken when he turned up in front of her, alive, after all that time. But even still, after getting through all of that she’ll be relieved that he is alive because she’s still in love with him (LI route); or because she still deeply cares about him and his well-being, and hopes that they can be friends even though she cannot bring herself to love him again. (Eddie or Insurgent route)

Edith ‘Eddie’ Reagan - Her business partner and friend of ten years, she is Gabrielle’s closest confidant because she knows that they both know that they’ll have each other’s backs no matter what. She likes to gently tease her, and I also get the feeling that they actually have a fair amount of inside jokes. Romantic or platonic, Gabrielle loves Eddie’s smile and treasures the rare ones she sees, and would do pretty much anything to see more of them. Also appreciates how protective she is. 

Amelie Cadman - Hmm, I’ll come back when I have a better sense of Amelie’s character and her and MC’s canon relationship. Gabrielle has come to see her as a valued friend though.

Kayden Smith - She is glad to have Kayden as part of the family, and greatly appreciates her company. Gabrielle likes to check in with her regularly to make sure she’s doing well and not working too hard. She also hosts dinner parties fairly often, not just on holidays to cook for her employees and show them her appreciation for what they do (this is in addition to bonuses lol.) Since Kayden has been working at the club from basically the beginning since Eddie scouted her she has seen the leaps and bounds Gabrielle has made in the kitchen and is grateful for the progress let’s just say. Was very patient while she was learning though

Halley and Kade Timmons - Honestly she dotes on them so much, like fabled ‘rich aunt you only see twice a year since she’s travelling the world, but always comes back with the best presents and stories’ levels of doting. Like for example if one of them offhandedly mentions that they want/need something it’s shipped to their doorstep the next day. Forgot to bring lunch? It’s ready by the time they go on break. Taking more hours or doing a later shift? Not only is she paying overtime but she’s making dinner. Someone being creepy and making them uncomfortable? Throwing out the offender herself, banning them for life, and doing it all in heels. Honestly just wants to see them succeed and thrive in making their dreams come true. Super protective of Kade and Halley, and would fist fight god to keep them safe so they can live long and happy lives.

The Insurgent - n/a

The High Council - Gabrielle’s relationship with the vampire High Council is about as good as you’d expect between two parties who have opposing beliefs on what “the safety of [our] species” means, and how it would be achieved. Honestly, probably the more she hears about the rebels and their ideals, the more she’ll want to support a coup, I’m guessing. That and the fact that I think Ilian and Ravenna have a personal interest in her and Arlo...(Yes I think that they’re the two vampires in Arlo’s memory.) Illian threatening Kade and Halley is most probably the last straw she has for them all.

#Gabrielle Dupont #My OC #My OCs #water to blood mc #water to blood oc

[khorren]

I wanna ramble about the mists...

In the universe we know of the Mists. The Mists are still very much a mystery to most and scholars are still piecing together knowledge after hundreds of years. When it comes to Tyria, we know that there are a set number of versions of Tyria, and for lore/mechanics reasons, the World vs World setting is 3 of these versions of Tyria. From an old interview with Devs we know that there's a version of Tyria for each world and this is said to be the set number of Tyria variants. I personally like the idea / fan theory of there just being 3 worlds and it's just a handwavey/whatever that we have multiple worlds. When we finally get rid of worlds in game and just have teams or whatever we're planning on calling them, I think this and the 3-Tyrias will go hand in hand. I mean we don't really care who the other 2 teams are or what their motives are. Heck we don't even know if they're real people, they could just be mist beings. They're resources and we want them for our world. Also fun fact. World vs World is basically a fractal that constantly resets, and that's why we have reset!

What we know of the other Tyrias is they're fighting their own battles against the elder dragons, a player character is unique to that world, and there's no "alternate versions" of them in the other worlds. For whatever reason though, important NPCs are there (eg: Destiny's edge) and the timeline hasn't changed. So important NPCs that died, are still dead. I personally think that at some point this will be lore that devs will either forget about or rewrite. We know the writing team is fond of the MCU style of writing, and multiverses sounds like an avenue they could go down, and in doing so potenitally re-write mist lore. So i'm sort of keeping one toe in there in terms of lore. In one of the early asura stories, the PC meets what looks to be an alternative version of themselves, but it is said they are from a potential future, because the mists are wacky that way. In the same interview with devs, these NPCs are a constant for reasons not yet clear.

Typically, things cannot leave the mists / the mist war, however there are some exceptions, in particular, the Warclaw. You can use the warclaw out in Tyria and while this could just be explained as "we wanted you to show off your warclaws in pve too" and left as, it was actually given lore as to why warclaws can exist out of the mists. Because their spirits are bound to armor pieces, you can take the armor pieces out of the mists and in to Tyria, so poof.

I've incorporated this idea of "spirit bound to an item" for one of my characters, the one who is a potential version of Serenity, but I'll go more into that in another post that's a bit more focused on the characters, rather than mist lore / babble.

I should also point out I have no qualms in myself, or others lore-breaking whether it's a hard lore-break, soft lore break, or whatever. Please, bend the crap out of it and make your story your story. I just find it interesting to work within the realm of "what we know" and then some days I'm just "hahaha fuck that. this sounds fun. let's do it" with no reason behind it other than "hee hee hoo hah. fun story".

Please feel free to add your own mist theories or talk more about what we know of the mists or what have you. :)

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #fae rambles

[memoirsofsunlight]

He Who Loosens the Fetters

Redemption

A single word that describes this holy invocation. The desire to break the chains that bind souls. A god that’s easy to forgive. A god whose grace is immeasurable and whose mercy is mighty. He is a god of unconditional love. And I’m grateful for it and I’m grateful for Him.

Lately I’ve been dealing with heartbreak, with someone who I fell in love with fairly hard. And we fell out of it just as much. And it was rough, it hasn’t been easy because I did like this person a lot. The pain from it left me very hopeless and in a very dark place, where I couldn’t feel Freyr for a while. I was scared I let Him down because I wandered off and started being rebellious. I wanted to be willing for once and go against the advices of my guides. And I suffered the consequences of my actions definitely. I was worried it was the final straw. I’d done it and I felt stuck.

I managed to get back in touch with the person I had feelings for, but I didn’t want to pursue anything romantic with them this time. But even acknowledging friendship there was a very heavy and awkward air that’d hang between us of unresolved pain from us splitting so abruptly. I believe it’d been bothering us for the last few days. I know I was hurt and confused and angry, because I felt bound to the pain that I caused and they caused, with no answers. The grey area that I was in left me really confused. I wanted to be free and still have my friend.

That’s when I prayed. I prayed to Freyr formally. I asked for what was best and to know what was going through my friends mind. I felt the prayer received as it left, knowing that I leave it to Freyr at that point, faithfully. Later that night, me and my friend had our talk, we apologize for how things were handled and released this awkwardness so we could be friends. At last, we were free. And I felt relief.

I share this testimonial as a token of gratitude for Freyr, because the first thing after this was joy for being heard and that Freyr still cares and want what’s best. Freyr is a Good God after all. And of course, the power of prayer and faith in the deity you pray to. It’s a broken record on the Christian side, but pagan wise prayer really still works, it’s a formal request to the deity you normally speak to. I hope that this inspires you and gives you courage in praying to your deities. You are being heard.

And another thing, I’m guilty of this but others may deal with this quirk themselves: difficultly asking for help. Yes, the Gods exist in an invisible realm where the energy works in invisible ways and the thoughts we have are products of ourselves in the invisible realm where the invisible sees the invisible but the visible do not. However, we cannot expect the Gods to read our minds on every concern and plea for help we think of; we have to ask. In order to receive the help we need from a deity, we must request the evocation of that god appropriately, just like in spell work and other forms of magick. Gods are bound to an evocation rule in the realm of spirit. If we never ask, do you think we’ll ever see their help? No, it is a “seek and you shall find” law. They cannot work with you unless you work with them. It takes two to tango. They can’t help unless they’ve been asked. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Thank you Freyr, for being the God Who loosens the fetters and breaks chains. You set my spirit free again with your unconditional love.

May you be a guiding light to those who are lost in the midst of darkness

#deity worship #norse deities #freyr #norse gods #pagan #paganism #spiritguides #deity work #witch #crystals #tarot #spirituality #deities #wicca