#but with my second run through now im trying to be a bit more analytical and try to find deeper hints and shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesherrinfordfacility · 1 month

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hello! first of all i really, really love your metas and it's such a joy to read them ❤️ i'd be very interested to know what you think aziraphale's smile in the elevator meant? i've been a bit baffled by it for a long time and i just cannot come to a conclusion. sorry if this has been asked before/you've already written about it!

hi anon!!!💕 that's really kind of you to say, thank you!!!

so i did indeed answer a similar ask, but it was a while ago now, so ive just reread through to see if my opinion remains the same (oftentimes it frankly varies with the wind), and im still reasonably of the mindset that his smile is aziraphale coming up with a plan/doubling down on some kind of 'im not here to go along with your plan, im here to make a difference'.

now a lot of that conclusion does hinge on my personal thought that aziraphale is aware that metatron is trying to play him, that there is an unspoken threat or intimidation going on, and that aziraphale has just gone through the FF thinking he has no choice but to go back to heaven, lest he (and crowley, potentially) be put in danger if he doesn't. imo he's entered the FF with the mindset of 'making a difference', bc if he doesn't have a choice in the matter, he might as well go and instead further his own agenda whilst he's there. but do it with crowley, because they're on the same side.

essentially, i think aziraphale is speaking throughout the whole FF in a way that doesn't tip off the metatron that he's anything other than heaven's man, and also speaking in a way that doesn't alert crowley to the situation that they'd be in if aziraphale were to refuse the promotion. the blindside is that crowley understandably refuses to come with him, kisses him as a last-ditch attempt for him to stay, and leaves when aziraphale deals the killing blow - and the metatron drops the bombshell that is the second coming.

so when he's in the lift, you visibly see him start to panic - one last look at crowley, deep breath, and into the lift, all before he starts to breath heavily through his mouth, face lax in shock, etc. but as we hit the credits, he's stiffened up, gotten himself under controlled, and schooled his face.

frankly, i find these expressions way more alarming than the ending smile itself, but i genuinely think it's aziraphale running through everything he knows in his head, attempting to sift through possible ways in which he can make his first step, whilst keeping his expression as calm and collected as possible infront of the metatron. kinda like a game of chess - white has made its opening move, and he's running through all the different responses that could set the foundation for the entire match. i see aziraphale as a very capable analytical thinker, so - for me - this tracks.

and then it all culminates in one final moment:

his head tips back, his eyes actually move and flit around (as if he's had a eureka moment), and the tightness in his face - particularly around his eyes - relaxes. now, i don't necessarily think aziraphale suddenly has it all worked out, not at all, but whether it's him working out at least the first move he can make, or him simply steeling himself after a thorough pep-talk that he's going to see this farce through, either way - i see it as a dangerous smile. crowley told him in ep2 that he's an angel that goes along with heaven as far as he can, and aziraphale kinda knocked on the door of that at the end of s1 - enough to want nothing to do with them as we enter s2 - but i think this moment, and everything that just happened, just might be his actual tipping point.

#good omens #ask #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #aziraphale meta

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sistervirtue · 3 years

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okay so im seeing people get anons about this and its coming up in friend groups so i think now's actually a pretty good time to tackle the idea of religious (specifically cultic) abuse in media and how we as an audience interact with it

TLDR: dehumanization and sexualization of cult victims furthers the misunderstanding that cults "don't exist now", and RA survivors would feel much safer in fandom spaces if people acknowledged and analyzed the harmful portrayals of cults in media.

cw: discussions of cults, abuse, and sexual assault

also, if you have questions, please shoot me an ask or dm (off anon preferably, though)

let me start this with a disclaimer that i dont think every media that features ra is inherently bad. i think thats a bit harsh and as an ra survivor ive come to terms with the fact that there are going to be depictions of it in ways that maybe dont give it the respect it deserves, and trying to "what about [x]" everything will only lead people to talking in circles with themselves. what i want to address here is how you, as a consumer, respond to and parse out what cultic abuse means in any particular portrayal of it.

*also please don't harass people about their RAS status, like, if you see someone enjoying something with a less than stellar portrayal of cults, don't send them asks or dms like "well are YOU a cult survivor?" reducing the consumption of media to a yes or no game based on identity-- especially an identity that comes as the result of explicit pain and spiritual violation is not only derivative but also degrading to survivors and the people you're grilling. all we want is for people to think carefully about what they spread and portray, and how they think about those situations.

so, i think the first thing to tackle is...what is a cult? This is something that's surprisingly hard to define, especially in fictional settings with fictional cults. For example, (and pardon the use of this example, I don't feel like hunting for others), My Hero Academia has an organization in it that I would say fits the criteria for being a cult, but by and large isn't considered one by fans because it's not explicitly called a cult. (Although numerous cult jokes have been made about it). It also has an organization that IS explicitly referred to as a cult.

So, when you're dealing with how to process what is and is not a cult-- and how to make your presence safe for RA survivors, you have to be able to sift through more than just "did the narrative tell me this is a cult?"

There's a few different models people use; one of the most popular being the BITE model-- but I should clarify that the BITE model is really tailored towards religious and strictly hierarchal cults, but can be applied to other kinds of cults.

(and yes, there are cults other than religious/spiritual ones. corporate cults and wellness cults have been on the rise, and it's good to keep that in mind both when engaging with media and also in the real world.)

However, I'm a religious cult survivor, so a lot of my experience is strictly irt this, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, and know that I don't speak for every cult survivor, every religious cult survivor, or every religious abuse survivor. I am One Guy on the internet.

When it comes to media, I have a few questions I run through in order to figure out if something is A Cult.

1) Fringe Ideas. This one is one of those that most people know-- and often incorrectly use to attribute cult status to other things. However, it is worth mentioning, that you don't become a cult by following mainstream ideologies. BUT. BUT. not every group with weird ideas is a cult! Some groups are just weird and are fine being weird. It's a rectangles and squares situation. All cults have fringe ideas and behaviors, not all fringe ideas and behaviors belong to cults.

2) Hierarchies. Cults always have people in power, at least in my experience. There have been ideas thrown around about "completely decentralized cults"-- but to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about that concept, and I don't know enough about it personally to say whether or not it's legitimate. If you have any sources, hmu.

BUT. Most cults have a power structure. You're going to have leaders, usually with a handful at the verrrrry tippy top, whose word is law. This can be associated with things like religious ideas (channelling god) or being "a genius", like in corporate cults.

3) Control. I cannot stress this enough; cults are all about control. How you think, feel, behave-- they discourage critical thought, encourage snitching on each other, buddy-group behavior; the BITE model explicitly lists these models of control.

4) Us V Them. Cults will give all those that oppose them or simply don't believe them a bad name. They're uneducated, they're evil-- it varies cult to cult, but you'll see them turning the non believers into a homogenous, frightening group. They want to discourage looking outwards, and they want to viciously isolate members.

Other things of note are extremism, talks of enlightenment, harsh punishments, the cult eating large portions of the member's finances, etc.

However, this post is largely to address FICTIONAL cults. and the unfortunate fact of the matter is that fictional cults are rarely fleshed out in a way that can be held one to one to a model, and, more often, don't even afford the victims of a cult humanity.

and this is one of THE biggest issues you find in cult portrayals. the leader is usually a charismatic, or perhaps menacing, figure, one that usually our protagonists-- who are rarely cult victims, they are typically outsiders (not inherently bad, mind you)-- faces personally, with the hoardes of mindless zombies forming one giant hurdle.

Naturally, this can be...hurtful. There's nuance to who is and is not a victim in a cult (although my rule of thumb is to look at what abuses that person specifically exerts over others-- and you can be both a victim and perpetrator of abuse. to treat them exclusively is lacking all nuance), but the people are the bottom, even if they joined willingly, are people who were preyed upon. Not only that, but many media cults forget that people can be born into cults, and never really had a choice to begin with. To treat these people like they are mindless-- or that they deserve the suffering they are in because they are there-- completely erases all nuance, humanity, and understanding to the cult survivior struggle. Not only that, but it continues to sensationalize and deify cult leaders, which is doing their job for them, really.

The second biggest issue is the romanticization and sexualization of cults, religious abuse, and cultic abuse.

(yes...this is a thing.)

The use of cults as a way to make a character edgy or tragic is one thing, but there's something sinister about using it to project a certain sexual behavior onto that character-- whether it be as the subjugator or subjugated. Sexual abuse is rampent in cults, and ritualistic sexual abuse is used to justify it. To sexualize the idea of a cult(ist) raping and abusing someone is...beyond offensive to anyone who has been in a cult where their sexual safety and autonomy has been compromised. Or, in some cases, the cultist is so naive and sheltered they can be easily coerced and taken advantage of due to their brainwashing.

This is...bad? This is bad. To ignore the fact that these depictions are just as harmful as any other romanticization of abuse is to ignore the real suffering of cult victims.

Really, the larger problem is that people don't really think cults exist, not really. They're all things of the past, or things that exist solely in fiction-- when in reality, every day cults form and continue to grow. If you've ever met a mormon, you've met a cultist. The moment you begin to process and parce the fact that this isn't as bizarre and unusual and fictional as it seems, you take the steps to respecting people who have been in that situation and become better at detecting cults, cult recruitment, and are able to more clearly assess what you take in.

Once again, there's so many bad portrayal of cults that it would be...stupid to call for an immediate disowning of anything with it in it. I personally have come to terms with the idea that I will have gripes about these portrayals in most cases, but rarely do I see people other than fellow RA or cult survivors discussing these portrayals. I'm hoping people can become more aware and willing to discuss cults in a serious and analytical context and criticize how they're portrayed in the things they love.

And once again, cult survivors are NOT a monolith. If a cult survivor expresses they are uncomfortable with something I said here that I'm not, or vice versa, listen to the people who actively surround you and whom you care about.

#nyc knacks #cults #ive been sitting on this for a while but it came up on the dash and i took the opportunity to talk abt it #bc i feel very passionately abt it #ok 2 rb

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rfaromance · 3 years

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Hiii im not seeing time stamps on mobile so I hope matchups are still open? I’m totally up for it! I’m never sure which guy might suit me best, they’re all so amazing and I’m weird.

I’m 26, but I’m a child at heart. I props have ADHD, my therapist isn’t sure lol. But it makes me extremely passionate about everything I do. I’m a ENFP and it shows. I love love love history. I’m about to graduate to be a teacher (majoring in history, English and German as a second language) so I can work abroad. Might go for a PhD program; already published a linguistic paper and worked for my uni for a bit. Or just mixing up some school and being the best teacher ever. I’m not sure if I’d rather have a life of adventure or just be an adult and kick ass career wise. Reallllly unsure lol. But that’s for now. I really want a farm and work as an author once I’m done conquering the world. I like being outdoors (I’m a scout), I’d totally be up for vacations in the jungle and off the beaten tracks.

I’m a storm of feelings, like, all year around. I like to think that the whole “MC you’re so kind and warm-hearted” bit fits pretty well. But sometimes I forget my own well being while caring for someone else. Been f*d over a few times already :/ have pretty weird mix of anxiety whenever I go out. I don’t trust super easy but I’m ride or die for the people I love. The guy would have to be ok with constantly giving reassurance haha. My love language is touch and I love giving love, but sometimes I’m pushing the whole world away if I’m having a bad day. I’ll make up for it with thousand little surprises. I may be annoying sometimes, but I still think I’m a good girlfriend. Sometimes it’s hard for me to stop my emotional side from running wild, but if I do I am pretty logical and analytical. This whole ADHD thing where I notice tiny details about everyone? Yeah. Exhausting, but sometimes it’s a gift. As long as I can just be myself at home. I do need quite a bit of time for myself sometimes. I can get worked up when there’s too much noise or when I feel ignored. Sometimes I get angry, mostly at myself. I think I look like a lost puppy or something, sometimes I don’t even talk bc I’m so confused and overwhelmed lol. I won’t let go of someone who’d help me steer through that stuff.

. .... Other than that I love to play the ukulele (campfire amateur) and sing. My friends say I’m pretty good- or at least they love to listen :) I’d totally love to learn to dance. Also: I normally work as a bartender/waitress and i totally think about mixing drinks at the RFA parties all the time.

Last thought: I’m wildly independent. I would definitely NOT let anyone get overly protective all the time (or reach a toxic level of jealousy for that matter). I’ve been in a relationship with extreme gaslighting and verbal abuse before and I like to think I learned my lesson. It’s all about admiring and respecting the shit out of each other. Total equality.

Sorry if this is too much, I’m totally bored today bc of lockdown.

Hi! I am so sorry for the delay! After much deliberation, I would pair you with...

Jihyun Kim (V)!

V has dealt with a tumultuous relationship before, and honestly, he would be well-equipped to handle both your emotional and your more logical side. He’d understand that you have your limits and your boundaries, and he would respect them. He’d also support you unconditionally--he’s self-sacrificing to a fault for the people he loves. Just as we saw him trying to do everything within his power to get Rika the help she needed, he’d stick by your side through thick and thin.

His artistic side would LOVE hearing you play the ukulele and sing. He’d maybe use your songs and your image as inspiration for some of his own works. He’d also be in love with your brain; he’s drawn to the wise, to the clever, to the eclectic. Plus, being a bit of a wine connoisseur, he’d probably be fascinated with your mixed drinks and be willing to taste test all of them!

He’s protective but he also respects boundaries. He doesn’t have the same jealous tendencies that some of the other boys have, either. He had to grow up too fast, unfortunately, but because of that he’s learned a LOT about love.

Jihyun was a selfish boy who grew into a selfless young man. Total equality is what he’s all about. No more secrets, just open, true love without smothering one another. Not everyone needs love like the sun, but if you asked for it, he’d give it to you in a flash.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #match ups #v

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ummanonymous-blog · 6 years

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Little reflection after a tiring day~~~

Wednesday November 14, 2018

10:46PM ~ Hmm.. haven’t been here for awhile, so I think I should have a little reflection of myself for the month of November before Thanksgiving orr Black Friday (if you know what i mean 😏) So Michell just posted a video, a vlog I mean. She has been back to Korea, to me, her life is pretty good. Maybe I should say that she’s my inspiration to live independent abroad, alone, stuff like that... I always wanted to be like her when I am more independent than now, maybe after graduation... (I want to live by myself --- a house or a flat or a apartment or a condo or whatever, just me myself. No one else, enjoying solo life, no interruption, freedom...) But today, she ended her vlog with coping with loneliness.. hmm I think I am someone who love being alone. By alone, I mean having friends, but I need a lot of me time. I don’t always feel lonely when I am alone because you know what, I always have ALOTTTTTT of stuffs running in my head every second --- non-stoppable. It’s rare that I feel lonely... maybe just bored of too much indoor and need human environment a little bit. But that does not mean I think my life is boring. Like, sound boring to others, but not to me because I just love love love it. In the comment section, I saw people commenting that even though they are surrounded by close friends, yet they feel lonely. I totally understand that. But currently, since I transferred to new university (for almost one semester now), I do not have friend. Like, yes friend, but not close friends like at MCC who meet every day and eat together. But for some reason, I do not feel sad. I have a lot of me time now at school... between classes, just go to the library quiet study area, between book shelves, and just be in my zone. With this mac watching youtube, or chatting or studying. And, even I don’t have really close friend to study with, I have classmate who sit next to me (3 out of 5 classes haha). But still, my life is much quiet --- i mean peaceful. I love it now. And... for some reason, I just be me. I don’t try to be friendly... if I am not in the mood to talk, I don’t. Maybe my image to others isn’t that good now, but who cares. So yup, that’s it for the reflection. I still struggle to find which way to journal... I have decided to do on OneNote, now it acts up 🤷🏻‍♀️ so im just typing here And ughhhh don’t remind me of today. It was horrible! Accounting exam was a thing! 1h20m I can’t barely get through the test which I spent 2 days of my weekends reviewing... And tomorrow I am going to have another Business Analytic exam...just excel, but who knows if it’s gonna though. Life update: waiting for the job from Starbucks after completing the documents online yesterday trying to find way to best invest my saving money lol since I learned the time value money from like 3 classes haha intermediate accounting I, financial management and management calculus. Ok,,, Im sleepy now. See ya later 11:04pm

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ohgoddard · 3 years

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Those Loyal Dogs.2.

Carmichael slept soundly in his bed, only happy thoughts floating about his head. His numerous cuts and bruises that usually swelled and caused him discomfort decided to take a break this night, providing him with some much needed sleep. And though his thoughts were majority happy, the weight of what he knew slumped mightily in his mind. Almost enough to tear him from his soft satin sheets and try and solve the unsolvable conundrum in his mind, or otherwise try and speed up the over moving constant speed of time. For what he had learned has kept him up for countless nights already. Truth be told, he would not be awake now if not for the pills Jin had put in his food and recently heat-dried sheets that his first-mate Cerri had just laid out.

Carmichael knew that the crew was getting worried at his countless nights awake, staring into the burnt and barely legible journal that the old orc they found floating in the wastes clutched in his hands. He barely found a moment’s respite away from it, often calling out his name. The Orc himself, the figure that Carmichael believed to be his dad, has been very quiet and not awake for more than a few hours at a time. They always mumbled one thing or another about a gnome and some human, a snake person, worms, a cathedral, and an angel. But mostly he stared into the wall, hollow eyes brought by terror and fear. Carmichael wanted to be down there every minute, but he knew it was not the right thing. The poor orc was torn from death’s grasp, so obviously there would be a period of time until they would be able to speak like a normal person. Like his dad. However, his natural instincts fought against his ever growing anxiety and fear that would have caused him to leap to the bedside or journal, and kept him strapped into his bed. He slumbered for the first time in weeks.

Cerri threw open his door with such velocity that, if people bursting into his room not been a common thing and he had gotten a much sturdier door, would have shattered the hinges.

“SIR!” she shouted, finally stirring the captain from his sleep. The half-orc woke with a start, his baggy eyes fuzzily coming into focus on his dark-elf first-mate. After being awoken in such a harsh manner, his analytical mind took over and her scanned the whole area while reaching for the sword behind his bed.

His room was still the same, he was still on his normal bed. His desk was untouched, he saw no ship outside his window… His eyes went to Cerri. She was dressed as nice as ever. Rough brown pants, fluffy white shirt with a simple red coat she stole from a Royal Naval Marine. Her silvery hair was tied into a long but comfortable pony-tail thrown over her shoulder, with her red eyes looking at him confused. Her mouth was moving, maybe she was saying something?

I always forget how nice she looks.

“Captain?! Hello?!” she shouted, shaking Carmichael from his stupor. He shook his head, trying to orient himself. “Ah! Yes, sorry. Got a bit-” “Were you checking me out again?” Her eyebrows raised a bit, as if not fully sure of what she said herself. Carmichael stood from his bed, still fully dressed from when he went to sleep. “What? No. Never. I would never.” His stammering was all that she needed to reaffirm her suspicions. Cerri’s confused look was replaced with one of playful teasing. “You dog, you so were! Why, that is so unbecoming of a great captain as yourself!” She crossed her arms over her chest, speaking in a teasing manner. As Carmichael hurriedly put his own coat on, doing his best to hide his face from her. “Really though sir, I cannot blame you. I am quite the drow.” A small giggle escaped her as the sentence closed.“We can talk about my manners later, Cerri. What was it so important you had to run in here and wake me up?” She is observant, but never to the matters at hand. So what if I looked at her for a really long time and forgot why she came in here? I do that to everyone. I think.

Cerri snapped into the worried attention she stormed into the room with, suddenly remembering her excuse for invading wildly into her favorite captain’s room. “AH! Yes, um. Drokgar just got back from his trip from one of the worlds. He just got back in through the portal with the target. And well, the target is not pleased. You are needed in the hull where the target is...now. Drokgar is in the med bay.” Carmichael spun on his heels. “DROKGAR IS WHERE?!” Cerri sidestepped out the door way, barely seconds before Carmichael ran through it. The gust of wind that followed nearly knocked her on her butt, but she held on to the door frame as she saw the captain run down the hallways of sleeping sailors in hammocks and down the stairs.

“What’s gotten into him?” Cerri heard Jin’s voice before she saw him, walking just into view holding a small mug with a dark black substance. As Cerri moved out of the doorway and into the hall, closing the door behind her, she took the mug right out of Jin’s hands and downed the whole thing. Jin looked on in amazement. After she swallowed she looked in amazement at Jin herself. “Jin, its not even 8 a.m. What in the divines name are you doing drinking stout?!” The poor AI just kinda looked on in awe still, as he was surprised the dark elf was still standing before him. “That.. had an alcohol per volume amount of 15%! How are you standing?! It was to my knowledge very few organics could even-”

“Jin,” she cut him off ,”why were you drinking hard liquor this early?”

“I was bringing it to the captain, its his usual wake up drink for the past few weeks.”

Cerri sighed deeply, dragging a face-palm. “From now on, bring him water. Only, water. If he has a problem, tell him its on my orders.” Jin nodded before walking off down a separate hallway, presumably the cantina. Cerri herself began to walk down the hull, they were going to need all the help they could get until the captain got back from the med bay. I swear, she thought to herself, if he doesn’t take it easy on this it’s going to kill him. He needs to remember we are a pirate crew. We work for money. Who cares if a few realities die? There are actually infinite. What about us? His crew? Jin?....Me? She pushed those thoughts away for now. He always has us in his mind. He cares. But this..its dangerous. He doesn’t know what hes up against.

=====================================================================

Carmichael made it to the med bay, an informal term given to a few beds in a spare room where they just so happen to keep all the medicine they find. Most sailors just drink and bandage themselves, lying in their hammocks after a particularly tough raid. They really only come here when they're sick, which isn't often on the weird vitamin filled meals Jin cooks for everyone. Right now though, it was empty save for the Captain and the lead physician. It is worth noting that the lead physician, Drokgar, was lying on one of the beds with the largest pile of ice over his right eye.

“Aye told ye before ‘n I’ll tell ye again, I’m fine Carmichael!” Drokgar looked evry roughed up, so it was easy to discount this. His glasses were broken, his clothes torn, and blood was dripping down from the cut on the huge lump above his eye. “You do not look fine, Drokgar. What on the divines purple skies did this to you?!” The gnome sighed before his captain, and leaned back into the small pile of pillows he had collected behind him. “Not a what, Captain. A ‘who’. The man ye told me to go nab, another one of your ‘not fathers’. He did not take kindly to me taking him away from the people he was traveling with. A gnome, some angel. A drow.”

At the mention of these part members, Carmichael connected them to the mumblings of the other orc they had picked up, the one the crew has been jokingly referred to as “The Professor” for his tweed pants. Could there be a connection?

“Yup,” Drokgar continued, “he put up quite the fight before I managed to put the clamp on him and through ‘em through the tear. He got one hit on me, and Carmichael it was just a graze. Cuz if it was a real hit i’d be dead!” The gnome laughed heartily after this, before turning into a rough cough and stopping. “Oh gods, yeah he did also kick me with a lil peg leg of his and it got me in me ribs. Gonna be a bit ‘o rest fore I can be on my duties again. Im gonna take the next ‘extraction’ mission out. I mean I loved the research and all, the looking up of people via memories and messin with them, but i’m a tad bit past my adventurin days. Maybe send Cerri, she’s been beggin to go out. Maybe Lionel, eh? He’s a newbie but-”

Carmichael cut him off by quickly leaning in and hugging him. The gnome let out a little gasp of surprise and slight pain before slowly hugging the half-orc back. “I’m just glad you're back.”

“Ah, don’t you worry son. Gonna take a lot more than one unruly and crotchety orc to get me! Hell, when he calms down I bet he and I will be good friends!”

Carmichael made sure Drokgar was nice and comfortable before leaving, blowing out the lantern on his way out. He’s right. I don’t know why I thought I could just take people, especially people like my dad, by force and then send a gnome. An old gnome at that. Good thing he’s a quick guy. I thought he could at least talk to him, but that must not have worked.

These thoughts kept in his head, alongside the comments of the gnome and the angel. It could be that these are the same that the ‘The Professor’ mentioned in his murmurings? Perhaps next time he is awake he can talk to him about them. Such thoughts were immediately thrown out of Carmichael’s head when he felt the shaking down the hall. An inconsistent shaking, one that shook the entire floor. And it was a loud, slamming noise. And the shouting did not make this noise any less worrying.

“WE NEED MORE ROPE!!” “WHERE’S THE RUNES?!” “SOMEONE GET THE CAPTAIN!”

“CERRI HOLD THE-” Another loud smash, the sound of metal on metal. Carmichael ran down the hallway, turning the corner into the brig. The room, usually looking like nothing more than a wooden jail cell with iron bars, now had a sole occupant of a large steel box. Said steel box had about seven people around it, hastily attempting to tie it down via chains and ropes. Among them was Cerri, who ducked at the last second to avoid a dent that suddenly formed in the box.

The box was covered in these dents, huge divots in steel that stretched the tension of its strength. It looks like it was covered in huge spikes, the number of these divots being in the dozens. Another loud crash and the captain saw another huge divot shootout from the metal box. It took the shape of the huge fist that caused it, and it was accompanied by an angry yell.

“WHERE AM I?! WHERE IS THAT DAMN GNOME?! WHERE ARE MY DEPUTIES?!”

Carmichael stood there before the towering steel box, now recognizing that these are all [i] fistmarks. “Jesus christ, just what kinda person did Drokgar bring back?!” A sailor yelled out as a steel fist collided with his face, sending him flying into the wooden walls behind him. Cerri lept back at the last second to avoid the same fate. “FALL BACK!” she yelled to the remaining sailors by the box. She turned her head to see the captain had arrived and flashed a smile of relief. “Thank the divines you’re here! We couldn’t hold him any longer, I think he broke the band Drokgar put on him.” The box shook again, more divots coming out. Carmichael drew his sword, the enchanted rapier known as Giant’s Needle. “Sailors!” he yelled, “retreat behind me and Cerri! Be prepared to give the alarm!” He did not need to tell them twice, the men and women quickly retreating behind their Captain and First Mate.

Their retreat could not be better timed, as this time the punch wen through the box. A huge green fist punctured the steel enclosure, peeling like paper. Soon another fist came right behind it, and Carmichael could see into the darkness a pair of yellow eyes staring out. The hands retracted, and began to tear the box apart, opening it up like a wrestler on stage. Stepping through the huge hole, stood a towering orc. Carmichael went into analytical mode.

He noticed the orc was shorter and smaller than he expected. The memories that Drokgar showed him revealed a general that could kill multiple demigods with a single hook. This could be said general, but many many years past their prime. He noticed the missing leg, replaced with a crude make-shift prosthetic made out of pipes and gun springs. The orc’s white and grey hair confirmed the old age, but everything else went away from that theory. He was still massive. His biceps, while not like a young orc, were still bigger than Carmichael’s head. And the orc was angry.

He lowered himself into a boxing-style fight stance, glowering at the dark elf and half-orc in front of him. “You have one minute to tell me where I am, and where my deputies are. Or else I will bear down on you the entirety of my strength and lawful ability.” A sailor, brave or stupid, came running out from behind the Captain. Carmichael was too slow in stopping him, the sailor too quick and their clubbed weapon drawn. It wasn’t even a laughable ‘fair’ fight. The orc sent a quick jab into the sailor’s stomach, them falling to the floor. Carmichael didn’t even see his fist move. This must have been a surprise to the orc too, as he glanced at his own fist in shock for a short while. But if anything this made him bolder. He readied his stance again.

“I am going to ask one more time. What did you do with my deputies?” Carmichael raised his sword. He was not looking forward to this fight. “We have not touched them,” he began to say, his eyes darting to the gold star resting on the orc’s shirt,“ Mr.Sheriff. We have only taken you. And it was for a good reason too.” The orc began to growl.

“You better give it quick. I owe them my life, multiple times over. I will not let you kill me until I repay my gnome friend.”

But just as he was about to open his mouth, Carmichael was distracted by another lumbering noise. The orc noticed this too, as his eyes followed the Captain’s. Walking down the hallway, perhaps awoken by the noise, was The Professor. His hair was still messed up. His glasses crooked on his face, and he was wrapped in a blanket. To everyone’s surprise, he was moving. And it was this shock that allowed him to enter the big, unopposed. So now, standing in the brig in front of the Captain and a first mate who left to go yell at the fool who let The Professor out of bed, were two orcs.

Who looked exactly the same.

“Did”, The Professor spoke in his deep voice, raspy from disuse, “you mention a gnome?”

The Sheriff eyed up the disheveled academic man before him, noting that he was much bigger than he. “Yes, so what?”

“Did you know a gnome named Kevi?” The Sheriff became still. Unmoving.

“Yes..I did.” The Professor looked on the other orc with a blank look, but his soft blue eyes began to come into focus a bit more. “And a snake named Asmodeus? And a human named Samuel? An angel named Kazfiel?” The Sheriff dropped his guard entirely. His arms fell to his side, as he looked into the face of himself.

“I..I did. Yes.”

The Professor looked into the eyes of himself too, then let his blanket drop to the floor. He leaned forward and hugged himself. “Please tell me...please tell me they are ok. I started all of this. Everything… Please tell me I did not kill him. Please..”

And the Sheriff, shocked at the sudden embracement, just stood there for a minute. The soft sobs of The Professor made the only noise. Carmichael watched on with intense focus, not feeling the tears welling in his eyes. The other orc gently put his arms around The Professor, and held him closely. “Yeah.. you didn’t kill them. You didn’t kill them. It’s not your fault.”

The other orc looked up from The Professor, at Carmichael in the doorway.

“Are they safe?” Carmichael nodded.

“Buddy, you and I need to have a talk after this. For now, call me Hiram. I need to catch my friend here up on a lot of things.”

#BoA:TS

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adhd-ahamilton · 7 years

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Joy To The World, 1, 4 and 5!

Hoo boy, so many questions!!! I hope you’re prepared for the deluge that’s gonna result...~ I’ll answer these tonight and finish the ones in the other messages tomorrow morning!

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

So. Over the last five or so years I’ve been writing fic, in all but the second year, I’ve written a special Christmas-related fic for Christmas. (And I did two the first year, so.) Christmas is a really important holiday to me and I really love Christmas-related stuff (the cheesier and sillier the better), so it became kind of a tradition. But this year, I was at a little bit of a loss. I knew I wanted to write Lams, because that’s my big thing right now. But how would I write Christmas Lams? Did they even properly ‘celebrate’ Christmas during that time period?? Or should I just go for an AU?

I researched it, and thankfully it turns out that the 18th century is around when people did start to celebrate Christmas in the modern sense (and it’s also when carols really started to come about, which is great because per tradition all my Christmas fic are titled after a carol), but that was just the beginning of the issue. When exactly would it be set? Valley Forge? But, uh... I highly doubted they would be really doing all that much at that point. But I couldn’t really think of any time outside of Lams AU that they’d be together. (And then I found out afterwards that Ham wasn’t even there for Christmas 1777, so, welp.) And I really couldn’t think of any kind of actual plot. I could have done a kind of meditation on their relationships to religion, but I didn’t know that much about which specific form of Christianity they belonged to, and I thought it was something that could be and HAD been done much better by other people. (Plus that’s not really my fave kind of fic to write to begin with.)

So, it wasn’t really working out that well. But still, I really kept trying. Through November, my working plan became almost set in stone: I’d do a combined historical and modern AU fic, switching back and forth between scenes, comparing themes (supply lists in VF compared with finding money for food over Christmas break in modern AU), sorta casually looking at the differences. When I gave it up, it was partly out of lack of interest in the themes, but my conscious reason was ‘I just don’t really care about modern AU Lams.’

...which came to the crux of the problem all along: I’m not really an AU person. Or rather, I’m very not an AU person. I’ve written very few AUs in my time, and almost all of them were historical AUs - certainly not modern day ones, and definitely not school AUs. I don’t have any, like, moral opposition - I can fully appreciate the transformative potential of full-setting AUs and find very interesting the interdependent communities that develop around AU-heavy fandoms as they essentially create their own accepted canons - but I just...don’t tend to like them. I’m very analytical!! The idea of just...MAKING UP not just one character or setting but basically a whole story just always seemed simultaneously too easy and too hard to me!!! Plus, I like to write really interesting and unusual things and try new styles, and one of the most basic points of interests for me in writing is asking what makes these characters and relationships unique, based on their precise personalities and backstories and combinations of traits. None of that lends well to full-setting AUs.

But. As I was mulling this terrible problem over, as usual, I was also running over in my head all kinds of various different characterisation ideas. This time, I was thinking about how it was interesting that Hamilton always seemed to be written in opposition to Henry Laurens, when IRL it seems they had a pretty decent acquaintanceship. And I was thinking about it, and I really started to think that, actually, someone in Hamilton’s point of view - who was constantly abandoned by his father, and desperate for his attention, and incredibly ambitious despite the circumstances of his birth - would be one of the WORST people to understand that an overly-controlling, overly-interested father who expects extremely highly of his son could be a negative influence. Which also added to another thought I’d been having. I always liked one quote from Chernow, that Laurens must have seen in Hamilton what a man who makes himself can do, and it always made me think that Hamilton must have been the same way - that he must have seen in Laurens the man he had always aimed to be. So, Laurens grew up in a good family, acknowledged and promoted by said family, with plenty of money and a great deal of opportunity. To Hamilton... yeah, it’d definitely be hard for him to see the problems with that. (And, you know, there IS a lot of privilege there!! It’s just, y’know, that mental illness doesn’t always listen to that.) But, those thoughts were kinda moot, because I really couldn’t think of any way to contrast these different experiences with fathers in historical verse.

And that’s when it came to me. What if I did a modern AU where Hamilton came down to visit the Laurens family for Christmas?

I didn’t have the time (or, really, the interest) to develop a full-on world for everyone, and a uni AU just seemed to be the most appropriate for this one, anyway. And it also did have a bit of appeal: it always kinda bugged me that in the AUs I read, Hamilton and Laurens never seemed to be studying law, even though that’s historically what they did do. As a law grad, I figured I might as well be the one to write it. (Though law in Australia is p different from in the US - there’s no separate law school, we just study it straight out of high school like anything else - but whatever.) And once I was doing THAT, it was hard for me to escape the fact that, in the real world, studying law hadn’t...exactly always been the best experience for me. Given that Laurens didn’t really want to study it either, it seemed appropriate to lean on those experiences a bit.

Aaand that’s where we really get to the meat of the inspiration behind it, heh. Which is to say: this is possibly the most autobiographical thing I’ve ever written...? I’ll say outright that a lot of it WAS entirely invented - my relationship with my family is nothing like John’s was in this, at all. But my anxieties over studying, and my worries about the future and what a career in law would lead to... yeah, that came from me haha. Because, to get kind of personal about it... well, I graduated July 2015. And in the time since then, I have been employed for about 2.5? months, total. The job scene here, in general and especially for law grads, is just that bad. (And, uh, there was a fair bit of personal fault in my lack of preparation for after I’d graduate? But, seriously, I was really anxious already...) And ever since then - particularly 2016 to the present - I’ve also had a lot of anxiety and depression and stuff going on. At the time I wrote the fic, it was in a position of leaning worse rather than better. So...I honestly don’t know if there was ever, like, a dispassionate fic in there safely cordoned off from my own projections, but if there was, it didn’t last long.

So, I got the idea, and wrote it all up pretty quickly in early December, just kinda ridin’ that catharsis of getting all that stuff out. (And it turned out to be even more relevant than I thought, as ‘trying to enjoy Christmas like you usually do when you’re really not happy’ also ended up a very autobiographical theme.) And that’s how it happened!

As for one or two other things:

I really really didn’t wanna get too into politics in the fic lmao. I don’t feel comfortable with more than the broadest strokes of Hamilton’s beliefs (I’m gonna GET THERE but Im still well rev-verse in Chernow) and I always feel uncomfortable about portraying historical figure in any better light than they deserve when it comes to specific matters. But I also wanted to have Laurens and Hamilton at least as POC because I also think it’s important to increase racial diversity in fanfic in the rare cases that we really get a clear choice. So, I tried to kinda portray that without really getting detailed about any activist stuff or whatever. Which is why in Ham’s argument with Henry he’s really not siding with anyone, he’s just an economics wonk who gets mad when people on both sides of the political aisle don’t make sure their numbers add up, lol. That was my best compromise. (And Philly kinda nudged me when I still got too far off-course;; haha!)

Hamilton has ADHD because: again, I wanted to actually officially write up neurodivergent characters into fic when I had the option of being specific (my Ham is always neurodivergent but obv I can’t explicitly write that into the text of historical verse), and it’s ADHD because......well, I could write a really long thing about that alone lmfao. And I feel like I kind of should in some ways because I know that a lot of people aren’t rly familiar with how ADHD tends to actually, like, feel, for real-life people, and if you aren’t then I KNOW this must sound like a really arbitrary or misguided HC. And I’d really love to write it up and expand education and all, but. It’s also something that hits really close and personal for me and, as someone who can be anxious for days straight over opening entirely innocuous tumblr messages... I just DK I could do it, atm;;;;; Someday I will though, I hope!!! (Tho I will say that I’m totally for all neurodivergent Ham HCs and that honestly my Classic Ham is also influenced by BD and BPD things so I’m p flexible about it.) (Actually I guess I CAN say that my HCs for Ham all involve disorders with extreme moods and mood swings and stuff and ADHD in its lesser known symptoms can absolutely include that, esp with Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria, so yeah. That’s basically the large part of my reason for that headcanon right there lol.)

4. What's your favorite line of dialogue?

HM OH MAN, I’m not sure!!! Lemme skim it again real quick.

In terms of sheer characterisation efficiency, I always liked the idea of Henry Laurens’ introductory sentence being to complain about John not calling often enough. It’s just such a perfect combination of a) genuinely cares about his son and wants to hear from him, and b) is an asshole who has no idea whatsoever of the pressure he’s putting on his son without offering any concurrent praise or reassurance.

...so yeah I think I’ll leave it at that actually, since this thing is long enough already lol.

5. What part was hardest to write?

I was sitting here trying hard to remember if I really had trouble writing any part of the draft because there was one bit where I stalled briefly but it wasn’t really that bad and I couldn’t even really remember it and apart from that it was super smooth...until I remembered that editing counts as writing. And hoo fucking boy.

I was lucky enough to be able to have my fic beta-ed by Philly! Which I’m super grateful for and the fic is undoubtedly better for it! But it was a really difficult process for me because of my anxiety. And I needed to do it rather quickly, because of course I had to have it finished before Christmas, and my family actually was going away for Christmas where we wouldn’t have internet access.

So I get through almost all of the fic. It’s finally almost done. And then right at the end there’s a bit where Alex and John quickly exchange gifts on Christmas morning. Super short scene. And Philly pointed out that, actually, wouldn’t the rest of the family be taken-aback at them exchanging gifts without them?

And I kind of read that and sat back and. that was right. That was 100% correct. So like. What do I do??? Do I involve the other characters? But the original scene was like, three lines. and I don’t wanna have to write a whole new scene lmao. Do I take it out? But in a earlier scene, I’d had John express a worry that the present he’d gotten for Alex was awful and he really regretted it, and I kinda liked that in this final scene we see that actually he’d just forgotten WHY he’d bought it (he’d remembered Alex saying something about it), and I thought that was a nice thing about how anxiety can really fuck with even your memory and stuff bc in the end there genuinely was no reason to worry. It wasn’t necessary to the fic, but it only came about in the writing - I’m pretty sure the outline was just like ‘and then they exchange gifts or somethign??? IDK’ - and I didn’t want to get rid of it again. But then how do I justify them exchanging gifts alone???

And so that’s how I ended up just sitting there mournfully or pacing back and forth like p LEASE just SAVE ME, just GIVE ME AN OPTION, I have a HOLIDAY TO PACK FOR and THINGS TO DO and I just want this damn fic to be EDITED and DONE ALREADY. I came up with soo many possibilities, none of which satisfied me,lmao. and eventually after wayyyyyy too long of trying to figure it out I settled on something that seemed mostly plausible and then just. wrote it in and skimmed the rest of the fic and posted it lmao.

Which, honestly, is pretty typical proceedings. I tend to have the general ideas come pretty easily to me, and the actual writing is normally pretty smooth - it’s usually the editing where I start rocking back and forth and cursing myself for ever trying to write :’) (Luckily, at that point I’m close enough to the end that I can usually force it through...!!)

#elysianmars #long post #my fanfiction #I...think about things... a lot..............#I got a lot to say okay................................

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bitchfitch · 3 years

Text

Prince Art Fight resource

currently Prince mostly exists as concept art and half finished 3d models >> so this is all i really have for him. on the images front

the following is an excerpt from a no longer canon/ old draft that gets his vibes across fairly well:

Lowell rounded the corner, and saw nothing in the dark alley way beyond.

No masked man, no trash cans, or crates, just a bare alley. That in of itself was suspicious. Why would the alley have been cleared out like this? Lowell's hand strayed to grip of his pistol, his blood was thundering in his ears as the sounds of the nearly empty street behind him melded with the soft grited sound of his footsteps.

A shape stepped from the darkness as a light turned on, back lighting them and blinding Lowell. The prince giggled as he stepped forward, but the sound was wrong, the footsteps were coming from behind him, not in front of him.

He turned, drawing his gun in the instant it took him to react.

Lowell sucked in a breath as he saw the barrel of his weapon land less than an inch from the smooth plastic of The Prince's mask. Lowell's hand shook, as the prince bowed his head to lightly tap the front of his mask against the barrel.

The light bonk of metal on plastic would have been comedic if not for the dread running through Lowell's veins.

"Hello, Cailean Lowell," his voice was softer than Lowell had expected it to be, and he pronounced Lowell's name correctly without having to be coached, "It's nice to meet you finally, I heard you've been looking for me?"

Lowell lowers his gun. His finger had been on the trigger, one twitch and he would have been no better than his coworkers.

He speaks without thinking, "Are you The Prince, or is your name just Prince?" he momentarily considers turning the gun on himself.

The masked man cocks his head, the huff that rattles through the modulator sounds just slightly amused, "It's just Prince, i don't know where the 'The' came from, but it felt to late to start correcting people,"

Lowell nodded lamely. He had a few scripts he used when speaking to new people. Rules of engagement and guides to keep him from looking as socially incompetent as he often was. He had absolutely no idea to which to use with Prince.

"Hm, does the cat have your tongue Hound Dog? If its if your earlier remark was not what you wanted it to be. just know that it's going to be nice to work with someone who actually knows my name," he put his hands in the pokets of his jacket and rocked back on the edge of his heels, looking as at peace and confident as could be,

"Sorry, I'm just not exactly sure what to do in this sort of situation," he finally thought to reholster his weapon, and did so hurriedly and awkwardly.

"Well then just let me be your guide. Let's start over, ok?" he stuck out his hand "It's nice to meet you Detective, I'm Prince,"

Cailean smiled nervously as he took the smaller hand in his, shaking it as he said "Hello, I'm Cailean Lowell, its… This has been a long time coming hasn't it?"

Prince huffs again as he takes his hand back, Lowell can tell it's almost an laugh. He wonders why Prince doesn't laugh fully.

"It has been, Now come inside we have a lot to talk about,"

---

La Lunch was usually a very hipster establishment, with reclaimed wood nailed artfully to the wallsvand those uncomfortable metal chairs, edison bulbs on low hanging cords, Lowell actually appreciated those, on cold winter mornings the heat they emitted was a godsend.

But, that's not what La Lunch was today.

All but one table had been pushed along the walls with their chairs stacked neatly on top of them. Rich red and gold fabric was draped artfully over the legs of the chairs, making them look something between a palace decoration and a circus tent.

the sole table with two chairs in the center had small battery operated tea lights scattered across the center with two place settings.

Lowell marveled for a moment at the set up, and everything else about this encounter so far, it was all so… Funny. Like a joke or a harmless prank was playing out around him, and not like he was sitting down with a man wanted in connection to multiple murders, disappearances, and robberies. His nerves were prickling at the back of his mind but he was still comfortable in this situation.

He took his seat as Prince disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. When he returned a moment later he was carrying a plate with a slightly burnt steak and some undercooked veggies.

"I have never once claimed cooking as a strong suit, but i hope this will do," he chirps as he sets it down in front of Lowell,

Lowell bit his tongue before he could offer to tutor him, "Why are you doing this?" He reminded himself to be suspicious, Prince worked on misdirection and and subtle tricks, Lowell absolutely should not trust any food he made

"You know what they say," Prince sighed as he took his seat across from Lowell, "The fastest way to a mans heart is between the fourth and fifth rib, but a close second is through the stomach," he gestured with one hand as he leaned his chin on the palm of the other.

"Ah," Lowell regarded him cautiously, he had to pick his next words carefully, "Should i take that to mean you wont be letting me leave alive?"

Prince froze, "Yeah, i worded that badly. You can leave at any point, and i promise the food isn't intentionally poisoned. I don't intend to hurt you,"

"Intentionally poisoned?"

"Like i said, I'm not a good cook," he huffed that non laugh.

Lowell couldnt help but smile a little. Maybe it was Prince's small size that just made him cute? Or was it the way he over emphasized all his motions to make his body language reflect what a facial expression normally would? The soft voice and easy charm probably played a part in it.

"Prince, why did you ask me hear? You know im looking to arrest you, right?" He hesitated for a second before pulling his handcuffs from his pocket and setting them on the table,

Prince froze as soon as the cuffs came into view, he turned stiff and his tone carried barely contained nerves, a near 180 from a moment ago. "Yes, but you haven't yet. And i know i intrigue you," he took a moment to force himself to take a breath, Lowell hadnt been prone to panic attacks in many years but he still recognized the symptoms, "I can help you, and I think we could work well together,"

Lowell had never heard of Prince having such dramatic reactions, or even having any fears. he briefly considered putting the cuffs away, but he needed to know more, and it seemed they gave him a modicum of power in this situation, "What could you need from me?" he tried to pretend he didn't notice the change

"Smart muscle," he replied his voice back to being that cool neutral but his posture still tense and nervous, "You were very close to finding me on your own, not many could say that detective. I would like that sort of analytic mind on my side." he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, still trying to present calm confidence, "And you're big."

"Should I take offense to that?" Lowell cracks a smile, guilt is starting to eat at him, Prince hadn't flinched at a gun in his face but a pair of handcuffs has him this scared. What was going on in his head? Why was it the cuffs that got him?

"No, Its actually a very nice trait. A few of my… roudier clients have started to key into the fact that I'm not very big, and i make a point of being unarmed." he cocks his head "I don't particularly like it when people try to push me around. Having a fellow your size at my back would probably get them to settle down,"

Lowell nods, he isn't really considering it is he? Is it the guilt? "I… will consider it." Prince perks up a little, "But, I want answers first."

Prince slowly taps one of his claws against his mask's chin, Lowell had wondered what they were made of but the sharp metallic sound answered his question, "how about this? you can ask me as many questions as you like, and while I may not answer all of them, i will always tell you the truth when i do. Does that work?"

"Only if you give me a reason for not answering."

"Fine, i will not be specific if i dont want to," he holds out his hand, "Deal?"

Lowell shakes it with a nod. "Why are you scared of handcuffs?" its a quick and easy question to start off with.

"You'll most likely be finding out latter tonight whether i want you to or not, until then I'm passing on this one, i dont want to get into it right now," he settles back into his seat, "But, now that youve told me you know i dont like them. Put them away." his tone turned sharp enough to nick Lowell's confidence.

"Of course, sorry," he quickly shooves them back in his pocket, "Sorry, What do you mean ill be finding out later tonight?"

"This is an interview, and before anything becomes official id like to take you on a little practical test."

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