#he was there for the moon landing. and how it changed our perception of the planet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

random-mailbox · 1 year

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I posted 47 times in 2022

That's 47 more posts than 2021! (amazing, since I only got a Tumblr account this fall. Ha!)

35 posts created (74%)

12 posts reblogged (26%)

I tagged 44 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#sailor moon - 37 posts

#fic list - 14 posts

#fic rec - 13 posts

#podcast - 12 posts

#usagi - 11 posts

#anime - 11 posts

#fanfic - 9 posts

#usagi x mamoru - 9 posts

#mamoru - 9 posts

#manga - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 34 characters

#this is how i find all the stories

My Top Posts in 2022:

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

This week’s trope of Enemies to Lovers from @floraone ’s matrix (here is the post with it for reference) was chosen by the amazing @daikon1 . These stories are more in line with the anime characterizations of both Usagi and Mamoru than the manga but it does not make them any less wonderful. I guess I am giving away the ending in these more than usual but the below standard disclaimer still applies - sorry!

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Scavenger Hunt by Scarlet32

While flirting with Motoki, Minako “accidentally” tells him that Usagi might be in love with Mamoru (which Usagi denies!). To prove to Usagi that HE actually likes her, Mamoru asks her what it would take, with Usagi giving him a list of seemingly impossible tasks to complete. And I have to give it to Usagi on these - they are imaginative, but Mamoru is if nothing but resourceful.

Secret Admirer by @starlingsinclair

Mamoru makes fun of Usagi getting gifts from a secret admirer, taunting her that it's creepy and not romantic. What if the tables are turned and he is the one on the receiving end of these? And the person doing it seems to know and understand him shockingly well.

Stitched - @irritablevowel

After an accident in the kitchen lands Usagi in the emergency room to get stitches, the person treating her ends up being someone she used to argue with daily in her school days. Can they put aside their past animosity and start over? (This one is probably in my top 10 favorite fics, make sure you check it out!)

What We Could Be - @allyunabridged

Mamoru and Usagi get set up on a blind date by someone who has no idea they have known each other for years and have been less than cordial since their school days. Could this be their chance to start over?

Right Hand Red - Usabelle

Motoki convinces Mamoru to throw Reika's going away party in his apartment. Can a game of Twister and a little alcohol change things for our favorite duo?

Next week I will be covering Slow Burn Fics based on another request from @daikon1 before getting into the Holiday Spirit with some Christmas-y stories.

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post)

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

40 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Continuing from last week’s theme of “Established Relationships,” this week’s theme of “Sex Positivity” was chosen by ms. @floraone to help coincide with the last week of Smutember. Check out #smutember2022 #smutember sailor moon fandom tags on Tumblr for the most recent entries for both Sailor Moon and other Fandoms (including a few SM ones that are not under the other tag on AO3). The list below are SOME of the works that have stood out to me that best fit this trope, but this is by no means exhaustive.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Role Play - @wildriverinthesky

This is a super fun series of vignettes where Darien and Serena indulge in all kinds of fantasies and scenarios and explore their boundaries in a safe and collaborative manner. Even though this series is marked as complete - there are occasionally new chapters added to this one, so I would definitely subscribe!

Limited Edition - @riverlethe

I think this two-shot is one of the most fun ones I have read in a while, simply because it rings so true to life. Who doesn’t wander through an adult store looking for fun things that can be used together with your significant other?!?

Brownies for Bunny - littlelunarrabbit

As an unintended consequence of a questionable decision by Yuichiro, Usagi ends up exploring her sexuality with the help of a very confused and concerned but always willing Mamoru.

Inhibitions (and the Art of Letting Them Go) - @areptiledysfunction1107

I absolutely adore this story and it is one of the few one-shots that I wish was longer or had an epilogue that would tell us what happened next. Usagi telling Mamoru “That’s so cool! You literally fix broken hearts for a living!” and “Can I keep you?” are just *chef’s kiss* (She absolutely has to keep him!)

The Unintentional Seduction of Chiba Mamoru - @floraone

I feel like this story should be part of the required reading for.. well… everyone actually. It literally comes with sources for additional information in chapter notes! This fic covers the “Teach Seduction”, as well as “he loved her all along” tropes, but does it in a very unique way that makes it stand apart from the similar attempts. It is in the top 5 bookmarked Sailor Moon Fics on AO3 for a reason.

Rabbit in the Wolf's Den - @reispinkoveralls

This one-shot is actually part of this year’s Smutember submissions. You can feel Usagi’s nerves as the story unfolds and the game Mamoru is playing with her progresses. This was definitely a very creative solution to keep Usagi motivated to finish her schoolwork!

What are your favorite "Sex Positivity" trope stories? Have I missed any key ones?

I think next week I will finally do part 1 of the unfinished fics list that I have been compiling on the side (I decided to split it into ones that have not been updated for at least 12 months and ones currently in progress that I keep refreshing A03 for every day, which I will do in November), before doing some darker tropes for the month of October / Halloween.

Links to the previous posts:

Established Relationships

Groundhog Day

48 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 2 - Established Relationships

Continuing from last week's theme of "Groundhog Day" we get to look at another trope from @floraone 's matrix - "Established Relationships". This week’s theme was chosen by the amazing @beej88 (please make sure to check out her Sailor Moon art!)

A bit of a disclaimer - I have gone ahead and mapped out which stories I would like to use for potential upcoming posts, so a few of the ones that would also fit this trope have moved to other categories. As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries)

The Game - @beej88

I think including this in this list MIGHT be a spoiler in and of itself, but this is a super fun story about letting go of some inhibitions while facing realities of adult life.

To Have and to Hold - @linlamont

This was a contribution to the most recent UsaMamo week and hands down of my favorite entries. We get to see how the wedding planning is getting to Usagi, her deepest insecurities, a very supportive Mamoru and some very lemony scenes. And the best part? Amazing art at the end of every chapter!

Sunday Dinner - Algae

A nice slice of life short story about how Mamoru feels over the years about Sunday family dinners at Usagi's house.

Prison of Hair - @master-ray5

A super fluffy one-shot about how grateful King Endymion is for the life he has. The love we saw in the manga from Mamoru to both Usagi and Chibi-usa and their sleepovers is very well paralleled in this short story.

The First Year - @uglygreenjacket

This one is actually one of the first fics I have read when I was looking for something that would go between the wedding at the end of the manga and them becoming rulers of Crystal Tokyo. These series of interconnected stories get us through the ups and downs of everyday life, culminating in an amazing scene at a conbini, that makes me smile even now that I am thinking about it.

Pretenses - @idesofnovember

This two-shot shines a light on the adjustments that need to happen when you are living together with someone you love and how things that are important to one should be recognized as such by the other partner.

What are your favorite Established Relationship fanfics? What trope should we cover next week? Let me know! Otherwise, I am thinking of covering some of my favorite unfinished ones.

50 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Thank you @beej88 for allowing me to use her absolutely amazing art for this post 😘

Non-Senshi AU is one of my favourite tropes in @floraone 's matrix, HOWEVER, I had to balance adding stories to this post as well as keeping some in my back pocket to be used for the upcoming weeks. So if you are not seeing a story that you absolutely love, do not worry - you will most likely see it somewhere in these series. This theme was chosen by @areptiledysfunction1107.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Pass the Syrup, Please - @wishwars

Mamoru runs into a grown-up Usagi at the hotel he is staying at while interviewing for a new position. His plan is to try and comeback to Tokyo, having spent many years away due both school and work. This leads to a long weekend-worth of reconnecting with old friends, crossing paths, hurt feelings, and realizations for both.

just an instant gut reaction - Hariboo

A fun Dance themed AU where Mamoru is desperate to find a new partner for his showcase after Ami ends up on crutches. Minako is too busy with her own performance, Rei is a singing major, so who could they be talking about that could help him?

The Heatwave - @reiokiscorner

Usagi has just finished high school and is trying to make the best of her last days of freedom with her best friends before she starts in the photography faculty at the university. Except she is filled with self-doubt, it is crazy hot, and Mamoru is (shockingly) not being very helpful with his snide comments. I really hope that we get that Epilogue someday that @reiokiscorner talked about in her chapter notes. (Side note: this story has actually inspired me to take a photography class with how amazing the technical side of it was written out! I am starting to making progress, right @areptiledysfunction1107?)

Hikari 27 - @uglygreenjacket

Usagi meets a handsome stranger on a train back home after visiting Makoto to help her set up her new bakery in Osaka. Making a snap decision, she decides that she needs to try and see him again and with Ami’s help finds where he is giving his lecture. This kicks off a tale about train stations, brief visits, and miscommunication that may lead to heartbreak unless Mamoru figures out how to open up.

A (Blind) Date with Destiny! - @daikon1

Minako (a friend Usagi met in university) sets her up on a blind date with Mamoru, without realizing that the two knew each other years ago. Both decide that this is the perfect opportunity to try and make new first impressions on the one person they still can't stop thinking about years later, as they proceed to pretend that they do not actually know each other. It is one of my favourite stories to re-read when I need something light-hearted with a happy ending.

took a faithful leap / i carry you in my heart - tosca1390

These stories are parts 1 and 2 of a Political AU with Usagi running for office on an anti-corruption platform and Mamoru meeting her at the hospital he works at with Ami, and getting pulled into her orbit. We get to watch as our favourite duo figures out a precarious balance of being together in spite of their circumstances.

Next week I am going to cover a few of the currently in progress multi-chapters that have been updated in the last 12 months that I keep hoping to see new entries posted up for, which is technically part 2 to my Unfinished Stories post from September.

Sex Positivity

Established Relationships

Groundhog Day

Darker Stories

Potions 🧪

Reveals

👻Halloween🎃

Wrong Perceptions

62 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 7 - Reveals

This week we are doing trope that @floraone (and everyone else I have spoken to) has been looking forward to the most - Reveals! Below is a collection of multi-chapters and one-shots that stood out the most to me as fitting of this theme.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries)

The Reveal - @kasienda

When talking about Reveals as a trope - this series is the quintessential reading material for anyone in this fandom. It is a mix of one-shots and semi-connected stories that show the impacts of being superheroes on everyday life, friends and family.

Revelations - Shelliebelle

A one shot that I seriously think belongs with @kasienda 's Reveal series. Mamoru figures out that Sailor Moon is Usagi based on her sheer exhaustion and corresponding injuries. He then tries to help her best he can.

Win a Date with Tuxedo Mask! - @tinacentury

One of the cutest reveal stories I have ever read! Motoki, who hears and sees everything, decides to meddle a bit and gets involved in helping Mamoru raise money for his old orphanage, as well as getting his friends together. We get a very confident Usagi and Mamoru who is jealous of himself and trying to do his best suave Tuxedo Mask imitation.

Impulse - @areptiledysfunction1107

Tuxedo mask shoves Sailor Moon out of the way of a Youma attack and gets hit with a mysterious fog. Next morning, Mamoru starts seeing things (or is imagining technically?) that are quite risqué and keep getting progressively worse, causing him to start acting a bit out of character (There is also super cute art throughout the story too!)

Since I Found Out - @lyraterra

Super fun multichapter that is based around the OG anime's Dark Kingdom arc - except the reveal of identities taking place in the story's first chapter. This change guides the retelling of the events of the original story in a new and exciting way - adding in psychometry, soul bonds and saving the Shitennou.

Perfect Imperfection - @allyunabridged

Tuxedo Mask accidentally figures out who Sailor Moon is in the middle of a battle, and realizes how much of Usagi’s behavior is due to her Senshi duties . As the week progresses, he does his best to let her get to know him better without the usual bickering. Except old habits die hard, now impacting their teamwork in battle. Adorable, fluffy ending to this one.

Deception - @floraone

When Luna finds Usagi and turns her into Sailor Moon, Mamoru and her have been together for 6 years and are currently living in the same apartment. Luna insists that Usagi absolutely cannot tell her significant other (that she trusts with everything!) about this, leading to some very questionable excuses and hilarity as Tuxedo Mask takes full advantage of figuring her identity out for himself.

Day 3. "Whatcha staring at?" - @lilliebellfanfics

The lemoniest story of the bunch. Usagi is pining after Tuxedo Mask, thinking about their last “get together”. Tuxedo Mark has a hunch of who Sailor Moon is and after following her for a few days, finds her taking a bath at the Hikawa shrine.

D’aimer et D’être Aimé - @she-dreams-in-pink

Mamoru finds Usagi at the counter at The Crown working hard on what he presumes is homework, earning him a scoff when he tries to joke about it with her. But who is this letter really for and what is it about?

Drunken Confessions - SailorMoonFanForever

Girls, Motoki and Mamoru get together at Mamoru’s apartment to have a little fun in a safe environment. Alcohol + Game of Truth and Dare end up lowering Usagi’s inhibition and cause her to admit things to Mamoru that she wasn’t planning on telling.

Miraculous Musings: Vignettes of a Miracle Romance (Chapter 28: hidden identity) - @goddessalthena

Mamoru keeps writing something on napkins while having his coffee at the front counter of The Crown Arcade. What if Usagi notices? Or one time he drops it on the ground “by accident” before leaving?

Have I captured all your favorite reveals stories? Please add more to the comments!

Next week we will cover 👻Halloween🎃 and costume related fics, since the post will go up on October 31st before trick-or-treaters start showing up at my place.

Here are the links to the previous posts to explore more amazing works based on different tropes: Sex Positivity, Established Relationships, Groundhog Day, Unfinished Stories, Darker Stories, Potions 🧪

74 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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beardedmrbean · 22 days

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Oops sorry scurgles, I got adhd and autism so my mind jumps like rabbit on cocaine with topics

I was just curious on how we don’t have biopic of Henry Ford and his connection with Thomas Edison after ac stuff used that historical fact.

Until I remember his antisemitism aaand sorry for the Jewish community if I acted ignorant

Me when I’m younger: How could Hitler and Ford have such hatred towards a group of people?

Me after seeing radfems and black supremacists uncheck bigotry for the past ten years: Oooooooh

But for my ac lore dumping they might miss the fact Yasuke will one of the two playable characters in the upcoming ac game. I just been exposing stuff to how ac lore works before the shitshow hits the fan

And I got into ac during my healing process 11 years ago so I’m a big fan

Also I shit you not the games set in plotemic Egypt and Ancient Greece change my perspective on history

Look how truly old Egypt is, how Cleopatra is closer to the moon landing vs the pyramids of Giza

Or how Odyessy had like the Classical Greeks talked and treated their Mycenaean predecessors the same way we view them. Like I didn’t understand Ancient Greeks could also have ruins of a past civilization as well

But my lore dump is to explain to Nunya what Yasuke is probably going to do in edo era times.

PRAYING that the Yasuke decision was on the team alone and not a DEI decision. Sorry for ramblings, Nunya helped realize that not everyone buy into the insanity that is modern black media

Oops sorry scurgles, I got adhd and autism so my mind jumps like rabbit on cocaine with topics

She does that too, no worries.

I was just curious on how we don’t have biopic of Henry Ford and his connection with Thomas Edison after ac stuff used that historical fact. Until I remember his antisemitism aaand sorry for the Jewish community if I acted ignorant Me after seeing radfems and black supremacists uncheck bigotry for the past ten years: Oooooooh

I think you're fine on the ignorance bit, and ya people be nuts.

I'm trying to keep up with it too, hope I manage well enough.

Look how truly old Egypt is, how Cleopatra is closer to the moon landing vs the pyramids of Giza.... ect

Time is a weird thing our perception of it is strange too, look how many people weird out when you remind them that the Peter Jackson LOTR films are all over 20 years old now, Shrek too.

But my lore dump is to explain to Nunya what Yasuke is probably going to do in edo era times. PRAYING that the Yasuke decision was on the team alone and not a DEI decision. Sorry for ramblings, Nunya helped realize that not everyone buy into the insanity that is modern black media

Was wondering how far into Edo he got, but it's fiction so he could be a immortal for all that matters.

Fun thing fiction

#zoomer huey anon

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jramsey15 · 7 months

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Have a little faith ~ An Opinion of Life

I can not think of religion without also thinking of history. Religion has been defined as many things and is made up of many things. What is religion? A belief system? Identity? Cultural values? Yes to all of these. Religion is and has been different to everyone and it can mean something different to everyone who practices it, but one thing for sure is that Religion and History are absolute. In both past and present times it has helped humankind develop the world as we know it. The most important thing I believe that religion has taught us is our knowledge of the world, The arts of which have provided us creativity and I think most importantly, technology. Religion has been altered throughout time and for no doubt will continue to reshape society. For the good or the bad we won't know until time reveals its fate. There are so many different religions and higher ups that are believed to be true but I cannot think that will change anyone's minds. People believe in what they believe in and we just all have to wait to see the truth.

As the world has progressed so has technology. People have used technology throughout the majority of the 21st century and have helped spread religion across the globe more rapidly than ever before. Technology has helped religion flourish but has also created a large amount of bias and miss-communication. These mis-communications have and will continue to affect people's perception and knowledge of religions. Pop-culture has also drastically affected the perception of religion through celebrities through social media, music and television. These things have affected so many lives and will alter people's perception of culture and religion. 9/11 was one of those major events in history that was a turning point and changed people's perception of Muslims, Arabs as well as some Americans in a harmful way.

Religion can be based on many things whether they are personal values, thrive from family values or if you are raised by a certain religion or cultural values. Personally as a person that does not claim a single religion i think religion is based on the teachings of the different scriptures that are taught. Although most scripture from different religions hold the same value every single person has a different point of view. Looking at the bigger picture of religion and culture I see that everyone holds the same values even if they might be classified as different names and worship different Gods, all scripture preach the same thing about love for the god you worship the people around you and to do right rather than wrong. I think it is primarily the environment you grow up in that decides what faith and religion you follow but in other circumstances you will find it later in life.

Thinking in the religious aspect. The bible in the book of Genesis the universe was created in six days and god rested on the seventh day. Light was created on the first day, then the atmosphere, land and plants, then the sun, moon and stars, he created the birds that roamed the sky and the fish from the depths of the sea. He created all the land animals and then lastly humans. Scientifically 13.8 billion years ago there was an event that took place called the big bang where the universe began as a small, dense fireball that exploded in what we call The big bang a theory of how the universe was created. But has not been proven as no one has discovered how or why the explosion took place in the first place. In my personal views as an atheist I believe the latter. Therefore there is no evidence to explain why or how the universe was created. As a result people will believe what they will believe and no one can change those beliefs. As people of this earth we have been sent here to be good people that do good things.

#faith #religion #grade 11 #universe #thebigbang

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finishinglinepress · 1 year

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NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: The Dark Diary: in 27 refracted moments by Robert Michael Oliver

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/the-dark-diary-in-27-refracted-moments-by-robert-michael-oliver/

The Dark Diary: in 27 refracted moments explores the creative impulse and the possibility of #personal #change. These 27 poems are like images in a montage, different yet connected by a consciousness in pursuit of a new becoming. Each poem stands by itself as a moment of realization, be it about the power of habit, or desire, or love. Yet, each moment resonates with the moments before and after it, creating a single dark diary.

Robert Michael Oliver considers himself a Creativist: poet, theatre artist, novelist, short story writer, playwright, filmmaker, critic, educator, father, husband, gardener, dialogist, administrator, cook. He believes that every day needs to be created anew. That is a goal he fails at every day, but to which he nonetheless aspires.

PRAISE FOR The Dark Diary: in 27 refracted moments by Robert Michael Oliver

Often bold and irreverent, these minimalist poems take on love and intimacy, sex, and aging with Oliver’s inimitable brand of tenderness and wit. Moreover, they zero in on the minute details that shape how we see our lives.

I wage against habit /,” Oliver writes in “A Primer: to Invent.” …Thought, / common as a migraine, / familiar as a wife. The companion piece, “To Invent: A Primer,” sheds light – as many other poems do so well in this debut collection – on the power of perception in the details of our everyday lives, the clicking of the lens that may rule over our laughter, longing, and memory whether or not we are in possession of ourselves: To break habit, do / the new, yet never do / that new again. / Paint the backyard / landing chartreuse! / Paint it now, not / later in the week! … / Paint it! / Paint it mental.

This promising new voice makes its way across the literary landscape full of music and edgy knowings.

–Naomi Ayala, author of the poetry collections Calling Home: Praise Songs and Incantations, This Side of Early, and Wild Animals on the Moon.

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry #change #life

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mentaltonki · 2 years

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I have altered the deal

I HAVE ALTERED THE DEAL SKIN

different memories, e.g., some may remember trauma or events in daily life that others have amnesia for.

I HAVE ALTERED THE DEAL SKIN

a different perception of their appearance, for e.g., different hair or skin color, body shape.

different attitudes, and preferences, e.g, in food, or dress.

different roles or functions, either related to daily life or to trauma.

a different gender to the physical body.

different ages, for instance much younger or older.

:121 Alter identities are sometimes incorrectly referred to as ego states, or even alter egos, but these states exist in people without alters and do not involve amnesia, dissociative symptoms, or clinical distress. Alters typically develop from dissociation caused by prolonged early childhood trauma, although attachment problems and persistent neglect in very early childhood are also known factors.:189-191 People with alters may refer to their alters as "parts inside, aspects, facets, ways of being, voices, multiples, selves, ages of me, people, persons, individuals, spirits, demons, others," etc. All the alters together make up the person's whole personality. A person with DID experiences himself or herself as having separate identities, known as alters, or alternate identities.:292, Alters take over control of the person's body or behavior at various times.

Conversion/ Dissociative Motor DisorderĪlter identities may vary in gender, age, roles and attitudes.Įach alter here has a different perception of their appearance (top row), compared to how they actually look (bottom row)Ī person with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), or a similar form of Other Specified Dissociative Disorder (previously called Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, or DDNOS-1) has a fragmented personality.

Dissociative Identity Disorder ▶ Dissociative Identity Disorder ▶.

DDNOS & Other Specified Dissociative Disorder.

Dissociative Disorders Dissociative Disorders.

Related Disorders ▶ Related Disorders ▶.

Trauma & Stressor Disorders ▶ Trauma & Stressor Disorders ▶.

"Understanding that greenhouse gas emissions are overwhelmingly responsible for the observed warming allows the scientific community to inform policymakers about how decisions regarding energy sources and land management will determine the amount of future climate change," the statement said. "These orbital cycles are not producing the changes we observe in our satellite and surface climate records, including rapid warming and CO2 levels that are unprecedented for millions of years." It added, "scientific evidence shows that human emissions of greenhouse gases, primarily through burning fossil fuels and land use, are driving climate change now." "Past climatic changes driven by small variations in Earth’s position relative to the Sun, known as orbital or Milankovitch cycles, take place over tens of thousands of years," the agency said Thursday. In a statement to NBC News, the space agency said orbits aren't to blame for the current rate of global warming. "We can't do anything substantive about the climate change right now, when the moon's orbit is apparently changing some, the Earth's orbit is changing some, according to NASA," he told Fox Business Network last month.

#I have altered the deal

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comrade-meow · 3 years

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When The Drummers Were Women

By Layne Redmond

Yes, guys, there was a time in our history when the primary percussionists and drummers were women. The first named drummer in history was a Mesopotamian priestess named Lipushiau. She lived in the city-state of Ur in 2380 BC, which at that time had conquered all the surrounding city-states. She was the spiritual, financial and administrative head of the Ekishnugal, the most important temple in Ur dedicated to the moon god, Nanna-Suen. Her emblem of office was the balag-di, a small round frame drum used to lead liturgical chanting. In 2380 BC, Lipushiau ruled!

From the civilizations of Anatolia (Old Turkey), Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome, the Goddess and the frame drum emerge as the core trance and mystical religious traditions. The frame drum was once at the center of the oldest rave like gatherings — it was the oldest technology for altering consciousness. The mystery rites would last for days at a time with nonstop drumming and dancing. Get this in perspective — this was church. Quite a different religious experience than I had growing up! A frame drum is defined by the diameter of the drumhead being much larger than the depth of its shell. The shells range in depth from 2" to at most 6". They range in diameter from 4" to 30". Most of these drums are portable and can be held in one hand.

The frame drum most often has a skin on only one side but sometimes it may have skins stretched across both sides. Bells or jingling and rattling implements may be attached to the inside rim, and in ancient times were believed to add to the drum’s power to purify, dispel and summon. Very often the drums were painted red, the color of blood, or sometimes green, the color of vegetation, the primordial colors of life. Mystical designs and symbols might also be painted on the skin head or the wooden frame. Threads or ribbons knotted with ritual prayers or chanting often hung from them.

Although this frame drum is similar in appearance to the shaman’s drum found throughout Asia and North America, there is a major difference in how they are played. The shaman’s drum is struck with a bone, horn or stick. The Mediterranean frame drum is played with the bare hands. While striking a drum with a stick gives a single deep resonant sound, finger techniques allow more variety: a deep, open tone, a slap, a high-pitched rim sound, or a soft brushing sound. This difference in stroke technique has led to differences in construction. The inner edge of the rim of the Mediterranean frame drum is often beveled and its skin is usually thinner, to enhance the sounds produced by fingers and hands. Hand or stick? I have not been able to determine which technique is older - the shaman’s drum played with a stick or the frame drum played with bare hands. The use and basic constructions of the drums are so similar that they probably both grew from the same root techniques of altering consciousness. In every ancient Mediterranean civilization I studied, it was a goddess who transmitted to humans the gift of making music. In Sumer and Mesopotamia it was Inanna and Ishtar; in Egypt it was Hathor; in Greece, the nine-fold goddess called the Muse. Musical, artistic and poetic inspiration was always thought to spring from the Divine Feminine. One of the main techniques for connecting to this power of inspiration was drumming.

The drum was the means our ancestors used to summon the goddess and also the instrument through which she spoke. The drumming priestess was the intermediary between divine and human realms. Aligning herself with sacred rhythms, she acted as summoner and transformer, invoking divine energy and transmitting it to the community.

The earliest known depiction of any drum was painted on a shrine room wall in 5600 BC in a Neolithic city in what is now Turkey. The shrine room wall depicts a group of ecstatically dancing figures, some of which appear to have percussion instruments. A band of human figures clad in leopard skins play various percussion instruments as they dance ecstatically around a large bull. One figure holds a horn-shaped instrument in one hand and a frame drum in the other. Other figures carry what look like shakers or rattles, as well as bowed instruments similar to the Brazilian berimbau. The excavating archaeologist, James Mellaart, has unearthed numerous other shrines in this city honoring a great goddess, and he believes that primarily priestesses tended these shrines. To date, the wall painting is our oldest evidence of a goddess-based tradition in which the frame drum was used in ecstatic rituals.

From 3000 to 2500 BC, written records of the Sumerians describe the goddess Inanna as the creator of the frame drum, along with all other musical instruments. They tell of Inanna’s priestesses who sang and chanted to the rhythms of round and square frame drums. Along with the written texts, numerous figurines of women playing small frame drums have been found. These drumming rituals were carried on in the later worship of Ishtar, Asherah, Ashtoreth, Astarte, and Anat in Mesopotamia, Phoenicia, Palestine and Assyria. Somewhere between 2000 and 1500 BC, the frame drum arrives in Egypt. James Blades reports, “All records from this period (Middle Kingdom) show the performers as women; in fact the whole practice of the art of music appears to have been entirely entrusted to the fair sex, with one notable exception, the god Bes, who is frequently represented with a drum with cylindrical body (frame drum).

”Another text described the priestesses as the composers and choreographers of the music and dance used on religious occasions. In the Cairo Museum there is an actual rectangular double-headed frame drum from 1400 BC that was found in the tomb of a woman named Hatnofer. Also surviving from the Ptolemaic period is the skin head of a frame drum on whose surface is painted a woman playing a frame drum in front of the goddess Isis. The inscription on the drum reads, “Isis, Lady of the Sky, Mistress of the Goddesses.”

It is important to comprehend the significance of women’s control of sacred music and dance in Egypt. Religious ceremonies based on music and dance can synchronize the underlying energy of the mind and directly influence our perceptions of reality. Ritual influences our modes of awareness that both underlie and transcend the normal patterns of consciousness. Rites can be used to rouse and shape group emotion and behavior, developing a continuous shared consciousness. Music vibrationally transmits states of mind directly from consciousness to consciousness. Thus, politically, music can resonate simultaneously on far more levels — emotional, spiritual, intellectual and physical — than can words alone. As music initiates changes in group consciousness, it can affect vast social and economic cycles.

The Biblical lands have also yielded numerous images of women playing the frame drum. Old Testament texts refer to the tambourine as the toph, which as been translated as the timbrel and the tabret. Exodus 15:20, “And Miriam, the prophetess, sister of Aaron and Moses, took a timbrel in her hand, then the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.” In some legends it is said that Miriam parted the Red Sea with the shamanistic power of her drumming.In Greece, some of the most beautiful representations of the frame drum are found on the red figured vase paintings from the fifth century BC. The frame drum entered Greece from several different directions — from Cyprus, one of the main centers of the cult of Aphrodite where the frame drum was prominent from at least 1000 BC, and also from Crete, where it was used in the rituals of Ariadne, Rhea and Dionysos.

Pre-classical Greece also saw the introduction of the cult of the goddess Cybele, from Western Anatolia. The tympanum, the Greek frame drum, was the main instrument of the maenads, the women initiates, in the worship of Cybele and Dionysos, and the priestesses of Artemis, Demeter and Aphrodite also played them. Both single-headed and double-headed frame drums appear, once again played almost exclusively by women.

The Romans saw the last great flowering of these rites when the religion of Cybele was brought to Rome in April of 204 B.C. She was described as, “Cybele, the All-Begetting Mother, who beat a drum to mark the rhythm of life.” Rome was the cultural center for the mystery religions of Cybele, Dionysos, Isis and Dea Syria — all of which used the frame drum in their ecstatic rituals. These practices flourished until the Roman Empire officially adopted Christianity in the fourth century A.D.

In the ancient world, prayer was an active, trance-inducing combination of chanting, music and dance, and initiates often danced the sacred spiral into the labyrinth. The classic labyrinth is a single path meant for meditative circling. To enter it is to experience a ritual death; to escape from it is to be resurrected. The danced line into the labyrinth was a sacred path into the inner realm of knowing. Dancers holding a rope signifying Ariadne’s thread (that allows participants to find their way in and out of the maze) followed a leader into the labyrinth, spiraling right to left, the direction of death. At the center they turned, dancing out in the direction of evolution and birth, all to the driving rhythms of the frame drums. Another function of the frame drum was to create a prophetic trance state in which the priestess could foretell the future. The most dramatic mode of prophecy was uttered in inspired rhythmic speech. In the depths of ecstatic trance, the oracle was possessed by the goddess, who rapped in powerful rhymes directly through her lips. The Greek word for this state of transfigured consciousness is enthusiasmos – “within is a god” – the root of our word enthusiasm.

Ecstatic prophecy has many parallels with shamanism. Prophetesses sought inspiration through a number of external stimuli, including fasting, ingesting honey, inhalation of burning herbs or essential oils and intoxication via alcohol or psychotropic plants. Cybele’s priestesses relied most heavily on the trance-inducing properties of music and dance. The rhythms of frame drums, cymbals and flutes moved them towards the consecrated, concentrated state of divine revelation.

The Dionysian rites are the most widely known of all the mystery schools and have an enduring reputation as drunken sexual orgies. This is due to the later descriptions by Christian political leaders to whom the ancient mysteries of the goddess along with ecstatic drumming, dancing and in this century, rock and roll, have been labeled devil worship. Our word “orgy” comes from orgia, derived from the root word meaning “deed.” The term was used for the celebrations following initiation in mysteries, which might or might not include sexual imagery or behavior. Its ancient connotation seems to have been simply “secret rites.” Their aim was the ecstatic transformation of consciousness through rhythmic movement of the body.

Historians have associated the maenads, priestesses of Dionysos and Cybele, with unbridled sensuality and socially uncontrolled behavior. The word maenad means “mad women.” Their erotic longing for union with the Divine found expression in wild, barefoot dances to the primordial music of flute and drums, their unrestrained hair flying wildly about their faces, snakes wrapped around their arms. According to some reports they drank blood and tore wild beasts limb from limb. Not too far out of line from what might take place at a contemporary summer rock festival!

Wine was indeed an important part of the Dionysian mysteries. External stimulants were always used in pursuit of higher consciousness, for divine intoxication with the spirit of the deity. References to drinking blood may actually allude to a communion rite in which the fruit of the grape represented the blood of the deity, as it does today in Christian communion rites.

Mastery of the precise musical rhythms required to align the devotees’ consciousness with divinity suggests a control and sophistication of technique that contradicts the historical image of wanton frenzied women. Creating rhythms powerful enough to move hundreds of people into ecstatic trance states required skill, discipline and endurance.

With the ascendancy of Christianity, Cybele’s great temple in Rome was destroyed, the Vatican was built on the site and the new priesthood banned the priestesses, instruments and music associated with her rites. Not only was the frame drum banned from Christian religious rituals, its use in secular contexts was also frowned upon by the Church, in particular its use by women. The Catholic synod of 576 (commandments of the Fathers, Superiors and Masters) decreed: “Christians are not allowed to teach their daughters singing, the playing of instruments or similar things because, according to their religion, it is neither good nor becoming.

”For 3,000 years women had been the primary percussionists in the ancient world. As Europe pursued this policy of disallowing women to learn music, they effectively barred them from the professions of composing, teaching or performing.

The last 30 years have seen a dramatic rise in the number of professional women musicians, but there are still few women pursuing drumming. Although little is known about the history of frame drums and the women musicians who played them, it is an important part of our percussive history. And the ancient traditions of using drumming for spiritual purposes can point out what we have lost.

At contemporary rock concerts we have all the trappings of ritual without the spiritual purposes. Flashing trance-inducing lights, loud rhythmic sound, chanted and sung words, but often with no higher purpose than to momentarily entertain or to glorify the individual performer. And no matter how much idolization some of these quite gifted musicians attain, they are often driven to attempt to fill the emptiness with drugs and alcohol.

Yet I remember concerts that hinted at the search for wider realms and dimensions of being. The first concert I ever saw was a show by the Monkees. But what blew me away was the opening act — Jimi Hendrix. I had no frame of reference for where he was taking me. I soared with him beyond the known on the piercing sounds and songs of his guitar. Yet in the end he burned and beat that beautiful guitar to pieces. I had experienced something profound and transformative, but it had ended in destruction, leaving me bewildered and yearning for something more. I have spent the rest of my life looking for the pathway into the ecstatic that leaves me transformed, whole and euphoric.

This article was Originally published in DRUM! Magazine’s December 2000 Issue

#Anglo.txt

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amesstm · 3 years

Text

The Suspended Cousin

WC: 1332

A/N: Have I hit a writer’s block? Maybe. Also, I’ll be creating a masterlist for this series so keep your eye out for that! I’ll probably edit this to the other parts.

P.S. If you guys want me to start making these longer as compared to short ones on a certain ‘schedule’, tell me!

series masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft knock came from your door. Yuki opened it to show Ushijima, who was slightly sweaty from his run. You had seen him run around the campus before school, only if you woke up early enough though. The only reason you’d willingly get out of bed that early was if you couldn’t sleep or you were really craving some street food as breakfast.

Maybe once your concussion heals, you should join him. Actually, his long legs would leave you in the dust. Unless you were going to miraculously grow a few inches, keeping up with him wasn’t going to be easy. Given that you were the libero for a reason, growing probably wasn’t going to happen.

Ushijima waited in your doorway, taking up the majority of its frame. Something about his chest heaving and hair clinging to his forehead from his sweat made your heart accelerate. You managed not to stutter, “Ah, good morning Ushijima.”

Yuki turned to you and winked. No doubt she was going to ask you about this later. You blushed and waved her off, to which she chuckled aloud. “See you two later.” Yuki sang.

You groaned internally, envisioning how you’d smack her later. For now, you put on your sunglasses and walked towards Ushijima. He walked a bit behind you before taking his place by your side. “Do you want me to carry you?”

You chuckled nervously, “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

Upon nearing the stairs, nausea overwhelmed you. You always had a hard time with drastic changes in height if you were driving up or down a mountain. Perhaps it was the depth perception? You wouldn’t know, you’re not a doctor.

To your side, you felt a nudge on your hand. You looked up to see Ushijima, who was sheepishly reaching for your hand. “Yes Ushijima?”

“I thought you’d want to hold hands like yesterday.” He stated, simply blinking at you.

Was he being shy? How cute. You smiled reassuringly, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

After having your consent, his hand clutched yours gently. Of course, his hands were calloused but something about that made his secure hold more comforting. For such a big man that plays rough on the court, he was surprisingly gentle with everything else. No one would’ve thought that the stone-faced ace would be such a big teddy bear.

“Y/N, you’re red. Do you have a fever?” Ushijima asked, about to touch your forehead with his other hand.

“Nope!” You squeaked, “I’m fine!”

He didn’t ask any more questions – thank goodness. Until he did, “Do I know your cousin?”

You chuckled nervously, “I hope you don’t for your sake. He’s suspended right now.”

Ushijima looked at you with slightly widened eyes, no doubt thinking the worst of your cousin. You immediately went to your cousin’s defense. “N-no! It wasn’t for anything too serious. He just did something stupid to make his principal upset.”

Ushijima nodded, but didn’t look too convinced. “Is he as short as you?”

“Ehhhh?” You whined. “I’m not short! You’re just very tall.”

“That’s a fact,” Ushijima allowed. “But it’s also a fact that you’re short.”

You didn’t reply to that, knowing it was useless by now. But you did say, “Well, my cousin is very short now that I think about it. I am a bit taller than him, though!”

You realized you said the last part too confidently, but Ushijima displayed a small smile. His silence wasn’t awkward. On the contrary, it was comforting.

“Oh, I guess we’re at class now, aren’t we?” You chuckled. “Thank you, Ushijima. You don’t need to do anything for me the rest of the day.”

“I’ll still do something,” he deadpanned.

“I don’t doubt that Ushijima,” you said before waving goodbye. Of course, you’d still see him in some of your classes but you weren’t sure you could casually speak to him yet. Then again, Ushijima seemed to do whatever he wanted without much worry. So, there wasn’t much use in arguing with him either.

“Tendo, what do I do for Y/N?” Ushijima asked as his red-headed friend joined him for lunch. Despite asking such an out-of-character question, he casually ate his rice without any concern. But for everyone else, it might as well have been the first moon-landing.

“Are you finally making a move?” Semi asked, raising an eyebrow and lifting a small smile.

Ushijima nodded. As Tendo sat down, he drew a thoughtful expression. “I know that she really likes Pocky. If you get her the Cookies & Cream flavor, she’ll definitely fall in love with you.”

Against Ushijima's will, his cheeks blushed profusely. “She’ll love me?”

“Can our ace not understand sarcasm?” Goshiki mockingly asked.

Imaginary characters floated around Shirabu’s head, as if warning the first-year to tread carefully. The characters seemed to get the message across: Oh, you think you’re so good at picking up social cues? What makes you think you can even compare?

Effectively, Goshiki was silenced by his upperclassman. “A-anyways, how did you finally talk to Y/N-san? All you’ve ever done is stare at her.”

“I gave her a concussion when we practiced together,” Ushijima replied casually. He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the same guilt from the day before.

So, I need to get a pretty girlfriend by giving her a concussion, too?! Goshiki internally screamed to himself. The poor first-year wheezed out, an imaginary ghost leaving his body.

Shirabu only blinked at the bowl-cut boy before returning his attention to Ushijima. “And now you’re her servant?”

“It’s not like that,” Ushijima defended, but didn’t portray any anger.

“I think it’s ‘cause he likes that,” Tendo said with a dirty smirk. Semi and Shirabu groaned, with Goshiki dying once more.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you to the café?” Ushijima asked as he walked you to the school gate.

You nodded with a smile on your face, “I’m sure. Have fun at practice, Ushijima!”

Before he could say anything else, you ran off. He knew you were just meeting up with your cousin, but he wished that he could have some more time with you. Ushijima frowned, clutching the pocky he had bought for you.

Oblivious to the boy you left behind, you journeyed to the café that your cousin said you’d meet at. You entered the restaurant and searched, looking for that familiar spiky hair. Huffing, you didn’t see that he was there yet. You sat down and decided to look at the menu.

Then, he arrived.

“Y/N!” You heard your cousin scream.

Although you cringed, you still smiled. The small boy wrapped you in a hug, making you giggle. “How are you, Yu-chan?”

Letting you go, your cousin grinned, with that classic Nishinoya grin from his side of the family. Although you smiled, your brain still throbbed. Perhaps you should’ve moved this to a different day. “Please don’t be so loud.”

“Wait a minute – do you have a concussion?” He asked, frowning with concern. “How’d you get it?”

“I was practicing with...” how should you address Ushijima? “Uhhh, someone.”

Yu sneered and started to make fists and throw jabs, “Well that someone is gonna get beat when I see them.”

Never in a thousand years would you want your family to fight with your crush. However, imagining Yu trying to fit someone literally twice his size made you giggle. “For your sake, don’t.”

“Do I need to remind you that I’m the best libero ever?”

You pursed your lips, not wanting to ensue another rant about his superiority. “No. But, just don’t please.”

He rolled his eyes, “Okay, fine. But I’ll get help from this guy I know if you want.”

Yu might’ve been just talking about some friend he had. Or, in the short time he’s been suspended, he had joined a yakuza. Either way, you knew that this simp would probably create a gang to protect you. If only you knew how that friend group would impact your relationship.

A/N: For clarification, you and Nishinoya are related through your mothers’ side so you can keep your last name lol. Plus, it won’t be too confusing if I need to use both of their last names later on :p

#Ushijima Wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushiwaka #ushijima fic #hq nishinoya #haikyuu!!#semi eita #haikyuu tendou #TENDOU SATORI

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

Photo

HOW TO SWALLOW MATCHSTICKS | SHORT STORY UPDATES #5 & COLLECTION INTRO

[image description: a pale orange sky with dark orange clouds. In the middle, in white text, reads “HOW TO SWALLOW MATCHSTICKS”. /end id]

Hello y’all! Since I already mentioned this briefly, and I’m in a really good place with it, I thought I’d quickly actually introduce my collection title and talk about what it’s about!

Originally, I was going with the working title “How I Break My Bones”, but I didn’t like that the “I” suggested a singular POV in a title for the collection. Whilst brainstorming titles I came up with the line “I swallowed your matchsticks but you still set me alight” and was like what the fuck, that sounds like a poem line [I didn’t wrote poetry back then :)] but I loved the imagery so I just! Smacked them together! Also matchsticks apparently matchsticks are poisonous and that really enhanced the meaning. Funnily enough, the fact that matches start fires isn’t central to the title; fire isn’t an important image in the collection (except for one story), however burning is? But the burning imagery usually comes from mentions of sunlight rather than actual fire, which I think is very interesting and fitting for the collections Vibe.

I’m letting the collection grow thematically with the stories I write, but the central idea is self destructive behaviour, and decisions that are very very irrational to literally anyone except the main character(s). Some of them get to this from being pushed to their limit, but for others there’s a more continuous sense, that what we see is just part of a chain of self destructive behaviour that’s their normal. Lemon Teeth especially is interesting in that sense because there’s this general idea of “hey how the fuck are these two still alive”, whereas with, Tabby, the narrator is pushed to a limit they’re not even aware of until there’s consequences. The title plays with this idea of self destructive behaviour that’s actually out of defence: someone swallows matchsticks so they can’t be burnt, but the matchsticks poison them (the severity of that is also dependent on how many you swallow! I think my google history is really concerned that I’m eating matchsticks!). Your perception of reality tells you to do this irrational action so one consequence can’t happen, but you snap back into reality and realise the consequence of that action is actually far greater than the original fear, but it’s too late to reverse it. Also! A lot of WLW/femme NB characters is the goal, on the grounds of Haha I Do That.

I try to keep this collection very fluid where all the stories are very individual, but are similar when it comes to core themes and it’s been very fun to develop! I also feel like visually this collection is very orange and red? Do NOT know what that means yet <3 but a lot of the stories are visually very hazy and sometimes dreamy, but the content itself is very dark. I’ve been playing around with this idea of “injecting” haziness into a narrators POV so their perception of reality warps and intensifies as the story progresses and we end up in High Reality Territory. I’ve talked about some of these before, but I’m going to go through the current stories I have in here in their current order under the cut - mainly because I find it very interesting to actually see them all in one place and how they function as a collective, and also to see how much it changes! I also won’t have a taglist for this WIP, as I just use my general taglist for short story updates, so if you want updates then you can join that!

general taglist ; ask to be + or -! @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @radiomacbeth @bijouxs @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @harehearts @amnestys @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @feverdreamwritings @oasis-of-you @coffeeandcalligraphy @cecilsstorycorner @howdy-writes @keira-is-writing @flip-phones

content warnings for the stories in order that they appear: murder (ammonite) / fire (lemon teeth) / car accident (how to relax on class A) / toxic relationships (the name i gave her) / cults (and saturn, too + church mud). nothing is talked about in detail.

Disclaimer: These stories are my original work - plagiarism and any form of copying will not be tolerated.

[image description: two large rocks in the ocean, with waves crashing over them. in the middle, in white text, reads “AMMONITE (LAND’S END)”. /end id]

After finding washed up bones on the beach, Dennis pretends they belong to his missing wife Melody - and as he continues to talk to her, his innocence is brought into question.

This story means a lot to me because it was the first one I drafted post writing hiatus that felt like it actually resonated with the way my writing has changed. It was one of the easiest first drafts I’ve done, and editing is going pretty smoothly as well! I loved playing with the moral ambiguity element and creating this very eerie balance between “cold blooded killer” and “grieving husband” and as the author! I do not know whether he actually killed his wife or not! This is one of three stories that I should start submitting this month.

[image description: a black background with 4 lemons in the centre - 3 whole, one cut in half. In the middle, in white text, reads “LEMON TEETH”. /end id]

A house narrates the night its inhabitants burn it to the ground, and tries to understand the human condition from their toxic, tangled relationship.

I drafted this after Ammonite and it ~sucked~. I went to edit in January because I wanted to submit it to a magazine ( <3 missed the deadline <3) and ended up rewriting the whole thing and it is SO much better. It’s gotten quite surrealist but I’ve never written surrealism so I don’t want to call it that yet? But I mean, some of the imagery + the fact that the narrator is a house experiencing complex thought is v surrealist! I want to fine tune that element more because when it comes to submissions I’ll need to actually determine whether it’s surrealism or not but I’m very excited to because out of all the stories this is the one I want published the most! I love it so much. I loved turning a bunch of wood into a character (they’re so sarcastic and mean?? love it), and Lawrence and Frances are perhaps one of THE most fucked up relationships I’ve written so far <3

[image description: a silhouette of a cat against a dark orange background. In the middle, in white text, reads “TABBY”. /end id]

A reclusive man who’d rather exist as a phantom than a human notices the neighbours aren’t feeding their cat, and is sucked into a world that breaks the stillness of his own.

This is the only story here that has an update post that’s not outdated so you can check out more about this story HERE. In hindsight, I think this is the one that really drove where this collection is going the most; I had a lot of different thematic ideas in my head and drafting this naturally organised my thoughts and highlighted the most important ones to me. This also really helped me figure out the perception of reality in this collection and that’s also a central idea (and one of my favourites to explore). I’ve always said I love writing things that feel hazy, feel dreamy, but this story took that took a new level and I feel there’s a lot more depth now? Tabby felt neither like high realism nor realism, it felt like reality with this “glow” that only the narrator seemed to be aware of. This glow reels the narrator into this dreamlike perception of reality to the point where he can’t distinguish the real world from his perception of it, and ends up doing things that he otherwise wouldn’t do had he had a clearer perception of what’s going on. It’s like dreamy reality: make it insidious! I read back on this draft the other day and I’m really excited to start editing, this is the third out of the 3 stories I’m aiming to get published first!

[image description: a single car in the middle of the road on a foggy night, with bright orange headlights. In the middle, in white text, reads “HOW TO RELAX ON CLASS A” /end id]

Whilst trying to manage a bad trip, our narrator makes an unlikely friendship with the driver who just hit his best friend.

I’m currently drafting this, and will likely make an update post for it soon so I won’t talk to much about the story itself here. But if you want to know how the draft is going: it’s sure going! This is in 2nd person instructional which I’ve never written before and it is very difficult at times but also very fun. I can already tell this is the story that’ll need a lot of fine tuning and editing but I really love the premise and where it’s going. This is sort of an evolution of a short story I wrote in 2019 that sucked <3 but I only got the actual idea for the plot a couple months back. My only complaint right now is I’d like a new title because I don’t like this following the “How to __” structure when the collection already does that.

[image description: A black night sky. In the middle, in white text, reads “THE NAME I GAVE HER”. Below the text is 6 moons in different phases, all glowing yellow. /end id]

A woman tries to see her relationship outside of the rose-tinted glasses the night her and her girlfriend fake their deaths.

I wrote this around October but never finished it, and I think I still haven’t figured out the crux of this story or even how it’s meant to be told but I love it too much to let go and really wanna make it work. This is the first WLW story I wrote that’s like, clearly a WLW couple but it’s not about that, and that meant a lot to me. Like I always knew I could just write WLW characters existing but to actually write that, especially with such emotional complexity and also pain that’s not tied to their sexuality was really freeing for me. Also lesbians really are like “damn I need symbolic imagery in my queer story :/” and just write about the moon like the way this story is JUST a bunch of moon imagery and is also structured around the phases? Very sexy

[image description: the view of an orange and purple sky, with the sun rising behind a darker purple mountain. A tree’s shadow takes up the right side and bottom left corner. In the middle, in white text, reads “AND SATURN, TOO”. /end id]

I haven’t drafted this yet (I plan to after HTROCA) but it’s lived rent free in my head long enough to know I want it in this collection. This story chronicles our main character - an ace lesbian who might not know she’s ace yet?? - as she spends the summer on a commune her parents sent her to and I for one am loving having a second cult-y story to explore (although this isn’t explicitly a cult, it just has the undertones and the narrator makes it very clear how she feels about that). This was originally going to have a romance, but lately I’ve been really into the importance of presenting lesbian and sapphic identities beyond the relationship aspect and the element of personal/individual identity. Like HTROCA, I want to have a full update post on this story one day so I won’t talk much about it now, but I am currently brainstorming it and I’m! Very obsessed with it!

[image description: a close up photo of an eye rotated sideways. The photo is filtered red and repeated and on the left hand side, flipped the opposite way. In the middle, in white text, reads “CHURCH MUD”. /end id]

We’ll pretend I didnt spend the last month talking shit about this title BUT for those who don’t know the origin story of my novel Revelations, Revelations is that it was meant to be a short story for my dissertation that quickly unravelled into what it is now. Since I’d already presented the concept to my advisor, I decided to turn it into a sort of “RR But With An Alternate Timeline/Inciting Incident” where Felix and Dorothy escaped the cult at the same time, at the height of their conflict and it got fucked up REAL quick. It was actually so fascinating because whilst it was definitely intentionally heightened, it felt like I was exploring both of their “dark rooms”, exploring a possibility that they would both happily ignore, but was very much almost a reality. I’m no longer doing Uni this year because of covid (I couldn’t stand another zoom lecture), so I don’t know if I can use this story next year but I really want to turn it into something. I just have to strip the RR elements from it and turn it into its own - my <3 third cult story <3.

And that’s where we currently are! I’m not sure if I’ll do collection driven updates, since I just write whatever short stories come to mind and if they fit then great and if they don’t then great, but I might do one say 6 months from now just to see how much it’s changed. This is my primary WIP this year, as 2021 is the ~year of submissions~ for me and hopefully I’ll be able to share some of these stories with y’all soon!

#short stories #atlastracking #wip intro #how to swallow matchsticks #me introducing my collection after roman introduced theirs i am just a SHEEP!!!!!!

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pinkymoone · 3 years

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💫Land of Lustrous 💎✨ What does it mean to be human?

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

“The most human emotion is vengeance”

Land of the Lustrous by Haruko Ichikawa is an absolute masterpiece! If you’re reading this before you’ve read the manga... I am utterly disappointed in you (jk U・x・U)

Phosphophyllite’s (Phos) character development really shocked me as an audience, because it took a turn to the ultimate question, “What does it mean to be human?” Gems live on the Earth after human extinction and fight off the enemies from the moon that are out for their value as beautiful gems. They live every single day of their immortal lives, centuries, millenniums, doing the same thing over and over again. They don’t need food, they don’t necessarily need shelter if it wasn’t for the moon people, and they don’t “die” just broken into pieces. However, all of them have a key feature in what is human, emotions. They do not know what to do with these “emotions”. But our main protagonist, Phos, is trying to change. She accomplished “change” after Antarcticite shattered in front of her eyes. While shattering, Antarcticite pressed a finger to her lips telling Phos to be quiet, showing that even when she is breaking she is only thinking about Phos’ well-being. It’s a touching moment, almost an eye-opening experience for Phos, thus Phos decides to make such sacrifice not in vain. The other gems are absolutely astonished with how unrecognizable she is after that traumatizing experience. But we have to look at this from their perspective to truly understand how abnormal “change” is. She isn’t the only gem that had experienced her fighting partner to have been shattered and taken to the moon. Yellow diamond lost Ruby, Pink Topaz, Green Diamond, as well as Sapphire while working together. Yet she didn’t change like Phos did. She did think of “committing suicide” on the moon, suggesting that she didn’t see a point in their losses, jobs, and existence. But change for the gems is a change not only in the perspective of life, but the perspective on themselves. Phos changed to be stronger and she knows she’s stronger now.

So a need to change is a human trait alongside emotions. But now... things get a bit confusing after that.

Phos turned stronger than she was before, having gold in her limbs to finally allow herself to do the fighting that she always wanted to. But after fighting against the moon people, it wasn’t really as hyped as she expected. Other gems have problems as well, but more complicated problems than the “I need to get stronger” kind. Diamond (above GIF), is jealous of Bort because he is the strongest gem in their group, but then again, she couldn’t change to become stronger, leading to an ongoing sense of belittlement in which she is constantly unhappy with herself. Cinnabar is even weaker than Phos, so he does the useless job of patrolling in the night for moon people that don’t even come. Yet, Cinnabar reached change only after Phos returned to Earth to absolutely destroy everything because she got her own sense of importance. Again, a change of perception on the “self”. She ultimately replaced the ‘old’ Phos. So Phos is an incredibly important character because she demonstrates that if gems do want to change it will only go one way-> the gruesome journey to humanity. Now we know that change isn’t always good (in this context ‘cause… well you have to read the manga).

Could curiosity also be a trait of humanity? Phos didn’t understand why she was going so far to make Kongo pray... but in truth, she was blinded by vengeance. Was her original goal always to just find happiness? It seems she found it through the hard way, because something such as absolute happiness does not exist. There is a culmination in Phos’ lack of self-esteem where he dream about the other gems belittling him and so all this change that Phos built up just led to the hatred for all things. I see a parallel in Phos’ character with Eren from AOT. Even Kongo or the moon-gems aren't safe from Phos’ wrath. Phos discarded Diamond's refusal to go to Earth to attack the Earth-gems and manipulating them to go against Bortz. Aechmea even states that Phos has become very close to an original human by displaying the most human of emotions : desire of revenge. Phos’s mental stability deteriorates over the rest of the series, and his self-destruction begins to extend to others rather than keeping it to himself. But all of Phos’ old personality didn’t completely erase, which is the very sad part. Kongo and everyone that Phos’ broke mercilessly replied with thankfulness and love. It may seem that Phos herself asked unconsciously during such ‘killing’ spree, “Was everything all for this?”

Land of the Lustrous portrays the inevitable truth, that humanity isn’t a good thing, or rather, heavily flawed. The journey into becoming a human (starting as a pristine, innocent gem) isn’t a good thing. And ultimately, all the work that came from becoming human, just led to a sorry gift in return, which was the realization of sucky reality. It is almost like Ichikawa is ridiculing, mocking the state of humanity since history began. Maybe, if you graphed the moral state of our species it would be a down-sloped arrow? (Sadly?)

So what does it mean to be human?

- possessing emotions: including boredom, love, gratitude, and ultimately the many forms of revenge

-a need for change: curiosity

-the infinite seeking of happiness

That is what I got from this manga. (Note. This is all just my own opinion and thoughts).

#land of lustrous #houseki no kuni #phosphophillyte #antarcticite #diamond #manga review #manga recommendation #manga spoilers #manga analysis #anime analysis #anime gif #anime recommendation #houseki no shitpost #analysis #psychology

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ecrivant · 3 years

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mind’s eye | jean kirstein

(jean kirstein x reader)

jean reflects on a memory of you and his wishes for the future. takes place in that undefined year after the battle for shiganshina.

word count: 1.5k

a.n. – simply me revolutionizing the x reader fanfiction subgenre by hardly including any romantic aspects. approach this as a self-indulgent jean kirstein character study.

He was never struck by his own exhaustion until he found time to rest. He had learned to carry it, bearing that weight, grudgingly, out of necessity. Thinking of you and your abject willingness to shoulder his burden with him. Selfishness pressured him to concede, to lighten his own load and pass it off to a disposed other, but he did not wish that on you, on anyone. He saw those around him buckling under their own weight. So he carried his. But, in moments of solitary repose, he would find himself collapsed under his own burden.

He sat high above the city, himself having snuck onto the walls past curfew. Overlooking the terrain outside of Wall Maria. The night was cloudy but the ground, clear. The moon, sliced crescent and half-enshrouded by tenebrous clouds, cast a low, even glow. The hazeless air revealed several miles of flat country, distantly and ultimately swallowed by oscillating hills which followed the curvature of the earth. The breeze numbed his exposed skin; winter neared. The leaves on the trees had long since tinged and fallen and decomposed among the detritus, and the now-disrobed branches, like sainted arms proffered towards the sky, swayed, noiseless, their prayers unheard. A silence, disrupted only by his own presence. This barren landscape was marked by an austerity, a quietly plaintive cry uttered by and for some unknown in an unworldly call and response. He realized he had never verily looked at the lay of the outside land. No one had ever been afforded the luxury of regard—landscapes were heretofore solely backdrops of violence—but things were changing, and only with hindsight could one say whether for better or for worse.

He thought of a memory. From a night like this one. You, in the light of the moon, hair glowing and itself luminescent, a fond smile on your face. Airy laughs, timid glances. Instinctively, he shook his head as if to cast it off, familiar with the dangerously seductive quality of his memories. He always worried that if he indulged himself in remembrance, even for a moment, he would render himself incapable of facing the present, for the comfort of memory was beguiling and often lured him like some Ogygian temptress. But he was so flattened, so exhausted by that incessant weight. Was he not allowed some form of respite? Annoyed, defiant, he unfocused his gaze and dissolved into this thought of you.

It commences behind the barracks. He waits, anxiously tapping his foot, hoping your rendezvous would not include Sadies as an unwelcomed third. His pedal movement shakes the unlit lamp in his hands, a quiet toll of metal on metal. Your hooded figure soon rounds the corner, eyes flashing in the dim light, easing his nerves. You walk ahead on the path, he behind you and dragged by an unseen force. Your allure, he posits, always the romantic. Still facing forward, you speak his name, a quiet utterance jettisoned into the woods ahead of you. He hums in response, liking the way your vocalization rings out, clear, in the brisk air. An innocuous invocation of his attention.

“Did I keep you waiting?” An audible smile, coy.

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

A quick laugh, ephemeral, your hood quivering. Your lanterns clink as you walk, the only indication of your movement, as your steps fell silent on the padded forest floor. Cresting a hill, you stop, finally turning to face him. Hands held out with a flourish.

Standing on an overlook, his eyes fall on the view before him. A valley, bathed in dark cobalt. A vast loch tenants the basinous land, flanked by a thick canopy of trees, the mass its own verdant topography. The water, mirroresque. Moonlight captured in scattered reflection. Low-hanging mist, gathered in clouds like a cottoned assembly, divine overseers looming over their aquatic terrain.

“Not bad.”

Your proud smile.

“Thanks, Eren showed it to me.”

Eren, a challenge, playful. He refuses to acquiesce, hiding annoyance, feigning indifference. He instead sits at the interstice between the dirt path and the grassy encroachment, opting to say nothing at all. You seat yourself next to him, head resting on your knees.

“I’m impressed. Someone says ‘Eren’ and you usually see red.” He notices how your head bobs as you speak, chin pushing against your kneecaps.

“So, you’re trying to be an ass, then?” A playful query, devoid of malice.

You turn your head to him, smirking, a wide, toothless smile. Shrugging, you give a noncommittal answer. He admires you; he never really gets the chance to. The way moonlight and shadow compliment your features. It’s nice.

“What’s with the look?”

His eyebrows shoot up, questioning.

“What look?”

You laugh at him—he loves the way your laugh never degrades him. It’s bubbly, effervescent.

“You look like you just fell in love, Kirstein.”

His smile drops. He’s flushed—had he always been so easy to read? Suddenly self-conscious of all the moments past in which he revealed himself and you stayed silent. Your body turns to face him.

“Such adoration,” you remark quietly. An ostensible taunt infused with a subtle sincerity.

“It’s okay, it looks nice in your eyes. Makes them shine. I like it.”

He swallows. When did you get so bold? He looks around, towards the sky, between his feet, anywhere but at you. He feels you inching towards him, a mass of warmth. Swallowing his pride, he looks you in the eyes. They’re affectionately gazing at him, questioning, asking for permission. He stays static. Nervous, excited. The setting, the cool breeze—the perfect backdrop for the memory of a first kiss, he thinks. Always the romantic.

You lean in and press your forehead to his, pausing. His head spins, drunk on potential. You whisper something, barely perceptible:

“Pretty boy.” A simple remark, lovingly stated like an assertion of fact. Dizzying. You pull away, and he falls forward, disoriented. Embarrassed by the meek sound of disappointment that leaves him. Your hand rubs at your neck, involuntary, sheepish.

“I’m not sure if I want this to be the memory of our first kiss.” Funny, he thinks, how the idea crossed both of your minds. Such a slavish focus on mnemonic posterity.

Maybe you were right, though. When he thought of this memory now, it filled him with an inexplicable exhilaration that the memory of your first kiss did not.

You had continued to talk, though his memory was hazy after this point. He remembered you mentioning joining the Scouts, to which he reacted badly: angry concern you had anticipated. You held him, hand in his hair, assuring him you were strong, you could take care of yourself: everything you knew he wanted to hear. He spoke of his mother, how he missed her. You cried together, though he could not remember why. He pressed a kiss to your cheek outside of the barracks, the early dawn gracing your complexion, warming it. In all, a memory sullied by hindsight. The last night before graduation, before Trost, before baggage began to wear the two of you down, spines curving under that weight. He still adored you, every version of you, everyone you had been and would be. Despite it all, he wished for you to one day return to that unburdened version of yourself. Maybe naively so.

“You know, the next expedition is to the coast. We’ll finally see the sea.”

He thought back to earlier today, your hand in his, ambling down a vacant side street. Excitement in your voice writ large—an expedition to a once-inconceivable, now within reach. He had glanced at you, your profile holding his gaze. The years had truly impressed on you a tangible density, a heaviness that bided in your drooped shoulders, the wrinkles of your brow, the sporadic grey in your hair. A dull, thoracic ache overcame him—you were a child, teenage, yet you carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes and had lived through a number equal. He was livid at the worldly injustice, the temporal excoriation. Stolen youth. Fairness was an antiquated concept, long foregone in exchange for a wholly inegalitarian system of cosmic justice—humans forced into meniality. Could you recoup? Get back the purloined years and people and solace that were justifiably yours?

He yearned to see your expression as you stood over that expansive azure. Soon, you would face that endless horizon, representative of new beginnings, possibilities, genesis, loosed of your burdens by some benevolent Parca. He verily hoped for your emancipation, realized through what the Scouts were to discover beyond the walls. Then, there would be time for your affaire—love, veracious, before a backdrop of utopia. It’s all he could hope for, a grail he quietly and firmly embosomed: an aspiration for your shared, future memories to be marked by self-actualized deliverance and impudent love.

—

thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated! i hope you enjoyed this even though it’s not really explicitly romantic in any sense. it’s mostly jean ruminating + some yearning and pining for unachievable things. maybe the next piece will be completely, 100% soft. maybe.

below are the beginnings of a taglist! if you’re interested, drop a line and i’ll tag you in my writing posts! xoxo

taglist: @flam3bird

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirschtein imagine #writing!

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givemeonebreath · 3 years

Text

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways.

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again. We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling. But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through. In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you.

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this But I just don't have the patience anymore

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream And you want to shout But you've built up steam And you can't let it out This is pressure

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water Can't go on Can't go back Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?" Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #listening to music while I stare blankly at nothing is legit my number one hobby #and then shit like this happens #linked universe playlist

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missturtleduck · 3 years

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The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt. 4

Part Three│Part Five

“It was more of a ‘I’m on the verge of going ballistic at you too, Sokka, so watch your mouth’ sort of smile.”

The moon was a liar.

Now that was a sentiment that Y/N wouldn’t agree with lightly, and yet she was. Sure, her journey so far had been blessed with good weather and better friends, but screwing around with her sleep? That was evil. It wasn’t necessarily the moon’s fault, but it was easy to blame spirits and celestials for real world problems.

At first, the day seemed normal. They had set up camp in a lovely wooded area, laughing about Appa’s shedding problem as they went about their usual chores. Aang and Sokka made sure Appa was comfortable, Momo and Y/N went out looking for food – though she didn’t realise she had a lemur shaped shadow until he landed on her shoulder, making her yelp – and the Katara tended to the main camp with Toph. Sure, the girls managed to butt heads over the division of labour, but all in all it was an okay start to an evening of rest.

Y/N took her place on the floor, Momo curled up in the crook of her stomach; with no time to collect her belongings, she didn’t have a blanket or pillow, but her new friends were astounding at her abilities of staying warm regardless, and falling asleep anywhere. Sokka had offered his furs to her in the beginning and she managed to decline without her face changing to a deep shade of red. For an hour or so, she had managed to drift into a dreamless slumber.

“There’s something coming towards us!”

Momo screeched as Y/N shot up, eyes half shut, hand on her staff. “What is it?”

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she saw Toph with both hands pressed to the ground, her face scrunching up. “It’s like an avalanche, only it’s not an avalanche.”

“Your powers of perception are frightening.”

Biting back a grin, Y/N got to her feet, nudging Sokka with her bō. He groaned, rolling onto his other side and burying his face in his arms. She continued to prod him until he eventually got up, muttering something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch.

Under the orders of the Avatar – or suggestion, rather; he wasn’t very commanding – the group packed their stuff, climbing onto Appa ready to move away from whatever was coming their way. Squinting at the horizon, Y/N realised the scale of the thing pursuing them.

“Tank train,” She said, her voice low and dangerous. “Fire Nation. We need to move now.”

With confirmation of what was chasing them, urgency in the group picked up slightly. Y/N watched and watched until she saw the plumes of mechanical smoke disappear into the inky night, no longer visible over the ocean of trees. For a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief. Opening her mouth to say something, she realised no one was in the mood for talking. Sokka, head in his hands, was managing to catch some sleep despite being high in the air. Even Aang, who seemed to be constantly chipper, rubbed at his eyes, dark circles beginning to form under them. Y/N by no means necessary disliked sleep, but she could cope with missing it – more than these it seemed.

As Appa let out a rumbling yawn, he came to land in a clearing within the woods. Clambering from the bison, Toph seemed far happier with her feet on the ground, ready to sleep once more.

“See you guys in the morning!”

“Actually,” Katara said, her voice polite, her face annoyed, “Can you help us unload?”

Toph snorted, crossing her arms. “Really? You need me to help unload Sokka’s stinky sleeping bag?”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to her lips; Aang, as animated as ever, pulled a face as he held the bag between two fingers, practically throwing it at Sokka. The non-bender proceeded to grow very red as he hopped into it, hitting the ground and nearly falling right back to sleep as soon as it happened.

“That, and everything else. You’re part of our team now, and- “

Toph pointed her finger, cutting her off. “Look! I didn’t ask you to help unload my stuff! I can carry my own weight.”

“Toph,” Y/N said gently, erring on the side of caution, “I only have my bō staff and I’m still helping. It’s not hard.”

“Well, you’ll get along so well with the Sugar Queen then, won’t you Little Miss Perfect?”

Her jaw dropped as she looked at the girl. Katara seemed to boil with rage, ready to go ballistic with her words. And go ballistic she did. It possibly didn’t help that Y/N also had the exact same idea, so the overlapping shouting at Toph may not have been constructive. Words like rude, selfish, and maybe even vulgar were thrown about. The argument ended with Toph slamming a rock up between them, closing herself into a makeshift tent.

“Should we do something?” Aang asked quietly, nudging a serene looking Sokka.

“Hey, I’m just enjoying the show.”

Y/N whipped around the smile at him, although it wasn’t the sweet smile that she often saved for him at the moment. It was more of a ‘I’m on the verge of going ballistic at you too, Sokka, so watch your mouth’ sort of smile. The grin fell off his face very quickly after that, and she felt some satisfaction watching him swallow his nerves down.

“I think,” Aang said, which was never a good way to start a sentence in this sort of situation, Y/N thought, “That you all need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Katara exclaimed, not calm.

With that, she walked away, and Y/N had the comical thought of steam rising from her head in anger. Sighing, she slumped to the ground, Momo taking his usual spot right by her stomach, curling into a ball on her lap. In his tiny hand he clutched her index finger. She might try to sleep, she reasoned with herself, but something about the course that tank train was on made her feel sick in her stomach. It felt wrong.

“Go to sleep,” A voice slurred next to her, Sokka’s voice.

“Can’t,” Y/N responded quickly, staring down at Momo.

His sleeping bag rustled. “Can’t or won’t?”

She smiled, softer than the earlier one she gave him. “Go to sleep, Sokka.”

Y/N didn’t have to tell him twice as he relented to her order, eyes closing as he began to drift. As he did, she spotted Katara coming back from her walk, hopefully calmer than she had been previously. She was not.

“The stars sure are beautiful tonight,” She said in a tone that rubbed Y/N the wrong way. “Too bad you can’t see them, Toph!”

Grimacing, Y/N watched the drama unfold. With a flick of the wrist, Toph sent a tremor through the earth, so strong it sent Katara flying – right into Sokka. So much for sleep.

Pushing his sister off, he glared at the two girls. “How’s a guy supposed to get any sleep around here with all this shouting and earthquaking?”

Unfortunately, something worse was on the horizon. Toph announced it as soon as Y/N spotted those smoke plumes again, far too close for comfort. This was not a usual route for a tank train to take. They were being followed, specifically hunted. But what was giving away their position? Surely it wasn’t the arguing.

“A few more minutes,” Sokka whined, pulling his sleeping bag over his face.

“Don’t make me carry you,” Y/N warned, moving Momo so that he could curl up under her shirt undisturbed as they moved.

He stared up at her as she offered her hand, something on his face that was more than bashfulness. Y/N didn’t ponder on it for long. Hoisting him up with strength that surprised him, they got back onto Appa as swiftly as possible, Y/N making sure to smother the camp fire and hide the ashes under dust.

She could feel Appa struggle as he descended over the peaks of a mountain range, coming to land on hard rock. Well, land was one word for it. Y/N was sent tumbling off of Appa’s back, clutching her stomach so she didn’t crush Momo and have to serve up Lemur pancakes for breakfast. The bison immediately fell asleep, unbothered by the luggage that had fell off of his back in the process. Even the animals were tired, Y/N realised, a gnawing feeling of anxiety growing inside her. They were being hunted, not only hunted, but driven to defeat in a psychological and personal way.

It couldn’t be.

Sokka brushed himself off from the tumble. “Okay, forget about setting up camp- “

“Well, Toph wouldn’t have helped anyway.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise that the baby still needed tucking in!”

“Will you two pack it in!” Y/N snapped, too angry and anxious to feel extremely conscious of the fact she was being stared at. “We are being hunted down by the Fire Nation, and you two are busy bickering! Stop it! There is no need, and you’ll realise that when we have soldiers, or worse, right at our doorstep!”

The silence was deafening, so jarring that it caused Momo to stir from his sleep and clamber up onto Y/N’s head – absolutely not helping her case in that moment.

“It could be Zuko,” Aang said, ending the long silence.

“Who’s Zuko?” Toph asked, the first calm thing she had said all evening.

Sokka rubbed his temples, face looking down into the dirt. “Oh, just some angry freak with a ponytail who won’t stop stalking us.”

“Sokka,” Y/N said, faux confused, “You have a ponytail. Why so offended by Prince Zuko’s?”

“This,” He interjected, looking vaguely offended, “Is a warrior’s wolf tail.”

“Aw, and I’m sure all the other warriors know how cute and perky you are,” She teased, pouting her lip.

He grumbled at her, sliding to the ground. “Go to sleep, Lady Y/N.”

With a scoff, Y/N began to sit, ready to join him in rest. However, Momo went from pulling her ears – ouch, by the way – to jumping on Sokka’s chest, chittering frantically. Alert, the lemur raised his ears, gliding to a ledge of rock, hopping on the spot animatedly. For her own peace of mind, Y/N followed the little creature to the ledge.

“Up,” She said, her voice panicked, “Everybody up now.”

She never thought they’d send Azula.

TAGLIST: @lunariasilver

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka #toph #katara #aang #azula #princess azula #zuko #prince zuko #fanfic #the girls of ba sing se #missturtleduck

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atvir · 3 years

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The Edge of Thought, 1 - Seeking the Unorthodox

The individual carved the path of uncertainty, meandering the muted symphony expressed by the forests of Ashenvale. Even with the blood drying in the sands of Darkshore, even with the uneasy armistice signed between both Alliance and Horde, doubts and fear lingered throughout the elf’s careful steps. The prospect of some passerby with the fervent desire to more than apprehend a lone druid weighed heavily upon his mind.

By still-intact, ancient passages, the Kaldorei navigated the circuitous caverns for what felt like an eternity. As he crossed the threshold of the cave’s mouth, he found himself at the uppermost peak of the Stonetalon Mountains. The weight induced by the burdens of apprehension was lifted for an instant, only for the reality of being in Horde-occupied land alongside needing to search for the Dreamer to set in. A concoction of twilight stirred within Moon-and-star bled its contents onto the dry grass, piercing through the damaged treeline of years past.

All he could hope for were twofold - The prior approximate location of his first visitation, and that the ancient druid was still alive. He took advantage of the shroud of night and made haste. By miraculous portent, intervention of the divine, or mere memory, he arrived upon the site after several days of movement edging upon paranoia.

Upon the rocky face of an unfathomable slope, a mixture of vine and moss crept through cracks in the crag. The individual took a sharp, deep breath, and after exhalation, he gently placed his left palm upon the surface. His fingers moved from their resting spots in a rhythmic pattern twofold until finally feeling centered with the intertwining of stone and vine.

The druid uttered a phrase in Darnassian: “We cross the threshold as there is none to begin with”.

As the final word was silently spoken in his native tongue, a green light pierced through his hand and fingers, powerful enough to perceive the inner workings. The mountainous slope before him rumbled loudly for a brief moment, only for the wall to disappear entirely. Instinctively, he entered the cave, and the gate which he crossed began to form once more. Coated in an infinite blackness, the only audible note from the grotto was the nigh annoying inconsistent drippings from the stalactites dotting the upper reaches.

The Kaldorei sighed. Staff in his right hand, he struck the cavernous floor twice with the pommel. A silent, pleasant chime echoed upon the second blow, the floating focus illuminated with a soft, subtle, green light. Antithetical to his intent, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

There was supposed to be a song, something taken from two worlds. She is not here.

As the realization was etched into the mind, the familiar crone-like voice rang throughout the cave.

“Ah, but I am here, child. Your song rang with clarity the moment you stepped into one of my doorways.”

He opened his eyes, readjusting to the lone light on his person. “Doorways?”

“Ventricles leading to the heart of this stone-home. The cavern’s heart, where I reside.” A snide, quiet fit of laughter echoes from the woman. “Do you think that I just sit in one small grotto, waiting for the next pilgrim to find me?”

As the woman’s musings finished, the grotto rumbled with great vigor. The cavern’s artery began to sing, stalactites echoing with a deep hum, playing upon one subterranean spire after the next. The blood was flowing to the heart.

The individual did what he sought to do - follow the path to the center of the stone-home to meet with the Ancient Dreamer once more. The vastness of the network was far from lost upon him; with no guidance at all, he would have not been able to locate her nor find the exit.

Suddenly, the cavern tones stopped singing, all he could hear in the still silence was the hum glowing from his staff. A tiny blue orb flared up across the way and crept ever closer to him.

“‘How can I not see, sister? This should be no trouble for us.’, is what you may be thinking right now. In order to perceive the unorthodox, child, you must be able to welcome being blind once more.” The singular eye radiated as she ceased to talk, her figure barely perceptible from the edges of the staff’s light.

“I think I know what lies in your heart. It has not changed since our first meeting, but this time your song is a bit...different than before. You’ve actually tried to do more than just Dream, have you?”

The man nodded slowly. He saw no need to fill the air with useless ramblings, and allowed the old druid to continue. “And now you finally seek guidance after so many years of inaction.”

“Your learnings, from what I can see within the threads, were far from orthodox. You were trained to take in what you saw and provide your own insight, returning to your Shan’do to see if he agreed.”

The younger Kaldorei sighed and mused. “Alas, he did not want to agree. Seeking agreement would have taught me nothing.”

The older druid hummed. “Indeed, and now you are failing his teachings in the Dream. By using stringent ritual rather than finding your own way, by trying to interpret things that need not be interpreted, you have failed him.”

“It is time for you to master the Dream. You must be able to see beyond what is in front of you. We shall begin upon your word.”

The druid nodded. The old woman breathed deeply. “Follow the right wall until you hear your footsteps contact a puddle. Then, lay down.”

Thus, the man did as was requested. There was hesitation to lay in the water for a moment, but the fear subsided almost instantaneously.

“Accept the reality of the Dream - time cannot be perceived. Accept the reality of the Dream - carve your own path, find your own exit.”

“There is no--” The man is silenced as vines gently envelop him. He is not constricted, but the final thing he views from the staff’s light is a brilliant flash of green.

Once again, Atvir Leafshadow finds himself in darkness.

#story #the bond #Atvir Leafshadow

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wangxiangiftexchange · 3 years

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Winter Solstice Gift for ksgsworld

Happy Solstice, dear @ksgsworld! I hope this fic brings a smile to your face!

Read On AO3

*****

a single fire bright

Wei Wuxian stretches his fingers in the sunlight, seeking warmth and finding little. He’s redirected the resentful energy towards the borders of his territory, letting the sun reach down to the cluster of huts and grace them with its touch, but it’s not like—

Well, how can it be like Yunmeng? There, the sun shattered into a thousand sparks over the flowing river, its warmth abundant to the point of suffocating, settling on his skin, insidious like a lie.

The sun tries to reach Burial Mounds; he can’t fault it. But a gloom remains in the air, obstinate like the cranky old neighbour who won’t move his wagon from outside your front door. The gloom clings to the tree leaves, lingers in the corners of Wei Wuxian’s cave, hangs over the village like ghostly black lanterns.

Wei Wuxian is accustomed to the darkness now; they’re old allies and companions. He’s made a home for it inside him, let it curl into the hollow of his missing core. Still, his dreams are haunted by light and warmth and the endless dazzling sky.

Which is why he’s certain what he sees right now is an illusion.

Lan Zhan strides through the woods towards him, calm and purposeful, ethereal in palest blue. The Bearer of Light, bright as the full moon, dispels the perpetual gloom of the trees. Wei Wuxian doesn’t get up when Lan Zhan approaches. He thinks: this is a hallucination. I’ve been thinking of him too much ever since he came to visit.

‘Rich gege!’

A-Yuan’s shout shakes Wei Wuxian out of his stupor. He realises his jaw is open; he shuts it. He sets aside the Compass of Evil he’d been tinkering with and rises, willing his pulse to quieten. It is a riot in his ears, his stupid heart.

‘Back again, Lan Zhan?’ Wei Wuxian adopts a casual stance. ‘Missed me?’

A-Yuan has wrapped himself around Lan Zhan’s thigh, and for a brief, maddening moment Wei Wuxian longs to do the same. To wrap himself around Lan Zhan and trust he’ll fix everything. But the world doesn’t work that way.

‘Please forgive me for coming uninvited.’ Lan Zhan bows his head and Wei Wuxian wants to laugh. As if Lan Zhan could ever be an imposition.

‘Did you bring me a gift, gege?’ A-Yuan gazes up with hope from around Lan Zhan’s skirts.

‘A-Yuan!’ Wei Wuxian grabs the boy by the hand. ‘We don’t request gifts.’

Lan Zhan doesn’t seem offended. Instead, he pulls something out of his robes. ‘As a matter of fact, I did.’

He sets a wooden spinning top on the ground and demonstrates. A-Yuan is predictably enamoured with it.

‘Go show Granny,’ Wei Wuxian tells him. ‘Thank Hanguang-Jun first.’

A-Yuan bows, his clumsy posture accompanied by a huge grin. Lan Zhan’s eyes are soft as he watches the boy scamper to the steps of his hut where Granny is darning socks, muttering excitedly and waving his fat little fist.

Wei Wuxian has no idea why Lan Zhan is here, a week since he ran into him accidentally in Yiling. Surely it isn’t just to bring a spinning top to A-Yuan. ‘Last time we were inhospitable. But we have bought some tea since. It’s not the quality you’re used to, Lan Zhan, but would you like to have some with me?’

Lan Zhan nods.

The arrival of Lan Zhan brings stares and whispers, but soon the Wens go back to their business. Wen Ning fetches tea and sets it on the stone table inside the cave. The tea is stale; it’s all they can afford. Wei Wuxian hates the idea of offering it to Lan Zhan, who should have the best of everything, but he does so anyway because he wants to make Lan Zhan stay with him a little longer.

‘It was very kind of you to bring something for A-Yuan.’

‘Not only for A-Yuan.’ Lan Zhan removes a white pouch from his robes. ‘Seeds for cabbages. You can plant them on the southern side of the mountain; they need only a little care to flourish.’ Wei Wuxian doesn’t reach out for the packet and Lan Zhan puts it on the table.

‘Lan Zhan, we don’t need charity.’ Not entirely true; they’re clearly struggling. Wei Wuxian would never stop A-Yuan from having all the toys his heart desires, but he can’t bear the thought of being the target of Lan Zhan’s pity. It rankles.

‘It isn’t charity.’

‘What then? You had some cabbage seeds lying around?’

‘Indeed. Cloud Recesses bought more than we needed. These are spare.’

‘I thought lying was forbidden for Lan disciples.’

‘I’m not lying.’ Lan Zhan’s gaze doesn’t waver, though it gets sharper. ‘This is a good use for seeds that would otherwise go to waste.’

Wei Wuxian can’t bring himself to protest more. He doesn’t touch the pouch, as if ignoring it will make it disappear, and serves some more awful tea. He chatters about potatoes and their merits, the first inane topic that his mind landed on, and gazes at Lan Zhan as much as he can get away with. It’s never enough.

The visit is short. When they part at the borders of Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian’s heart feels heavier than the last time, his insides hollower than usual. There’s no accompanying A-Yuan for him to have to pretend; he can let himself ache. Alone, in the murky borders of his territory, he watches as Lan Zhan’s luminous figure disappears down the hill, leaving Wei Wuxian in the dark.

A week later, Lan Zhan is back. This time with some Lan cloth.

‘For A-Yuan. It should be enough for a set of robes, perhaps two.’

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms, his delight in seeing Lan Zhan dissipating. ‘Was this spare, too?’

‘This is ruined.’ Lan Zhan unfolds the parcel to expose the fabric. ‘Our juniors must wear the purest white, but something went wrong with this bolt.’ Holding it to the light, Wei Wuxian can see the problem: a pink tinge taints the cloth, a shade soft as a maiden’s blush, but unacceptable for the unyielding standards of GusuLan.

‘Lan Zhan.’ Wei Wuxian sighs. ‘A-Yuan spends all his time rolling in the dirt.’ He refrains from saying he’s usually the one rolling the boy in it. ‘He’ll ruin his clothes in a day.’

‘It’s Lan fabric.’

‘So?’

‘It has incantations stitched inside to repel dirt.’

‘That explains a lot,’ Wei Wuxian murmurs, glancing surreptitiously at Lan Zhan’s figure. He’s impeccable as always, tall and beautiful and unwavering. The envy of the cultivation world. And he’s here, with Wei Wuxian — and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to feel about this.

He strokes the fabric to distract himself from his raucous heart. It’s exquisite; soft to the touch but thick enough for winter. The pink tinge is subtle — almost imperceptible unless you know to look for it. The edges are embroidered with incantations to keep warmth, to repel dirt, to protect against low level magical attacks.

‘Only these?’ Wei Wuxian jokes. “And here I was thinking it must also have enchantments for handsomeness.’

A small frown indicates Lan Zhan finds the comment impertinent, but the tips of his ears go red.

What is Wei Wuxian thinking, flirting with Lan Zhan? The last thing he wants is to see him stride out of Burial Mounds in a huff. There’s nothing keeping Lan Zhan here now that he completed his noble deed, but Wei Wuxian can’t bear to say goodbye to him yet. ‘I was about to have lunch, Lan Zhan. Join me?’

Plain rice and turnip soup. Wei Wuxian is a little embarrassed, but Lan Zhan gives no indication he finds the meal beneath him. A breeze flows through the cave entrance, carrying the distant voices of the others and the smell of turned soil. Lan Zhan’s amber gaze sweeps the cave, lingering on the mess Wei Wuxian has left from his inventions.

‘Are you checking up on me?’ Wei Wuxian glances at him as he serves soup. ‘I told you I can control it.’

‘I’m not here for that.’ He doesn’t say he believes Wei Wuxian, because Lan Zhan never lies.

He eats quietly, proper and elegant, and listens attentively to Wei Wuxian run his mouth. The Wens, the daily toil in the fields, his inventions. When he speaks of A-Yuan, Lan Zhan’s eyes light up in a way that Wei Wuxian is beginning to recognise. He’s taken to the boy, that much is clear.

‘You like A-Yuan.’ Wei Wuxian leaves his question unspoken: why? Why this boy? There’s no shortage of toddlers in GusuLan.

Perhaps Lan Zhan can read his mind. Perhaps he’s replying to something else. ‘A-Yuan is important to you.’

The soup has gone cold. Wei Wuxian sets down his spoon; his hand trembles only a little. Being the only child, A-Yuan is spoiled by everyone in their community, but he is important to Wei Wuxian, in a way he hadn’t anticipated. A-Yuan is a source of incalculable joy and worry and love. Some nights the kid likes to cuddle with Wei Wuxian and listen to stories about Yunmeng. Other nights, when the resentful energy gets too much, when the spirits inside Wei Wuxian threaten to tear him open, he’s the one who finds solace at the foot of A-Yuan’s bed, listening to the boy’s soft snores as the midnight winds howl.

‘You’re so perceptive.’ Wei Wuxian means to make a joke of it, but Lan Zhan is nothing if not earnest and perfectly sincere.

‘Your expression changes when you speak of him. Your voice, too.’

Ah — to be seen so clearly. What a gift. Wei Wuxian feels lighter than he has in ages; as if he could float in the sky, a lantern filled with a burning candle. Lan Zhan in his cave is the moon appearing from behind black clouds. He makes everything more tolerable.

‘Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.’ His name tastes sweeter than the food. Wei Wuxian needs to change the subject, or he’ll do something stupid like hold him and not let go. ‘Guess who came to see me in Yiling a few days ago?’ Wei Wuxian describes how beautiful his senior sister looked in her wedding dress, the lotus soup they shared, Jiang Cheng teasing him like old times. He doesn’t mention the courtesy name he suggested for his nephew. Let it be a surprise.

Lan Zhan eats, and listens, and for a brief, shining moment, Wei Wuxian is happy.

He’s back from selling turnips one afternoon and there Lan Zhan is, clad in sky blue, sitting with A -Yuan at a makeshift table in the centre of the courtyard. A-Yuan holds a brush, looking cute in his pink Lan robes, biting his lower lip as he bends over the paper in front of him. Wei Wuxian pauses over them, and Lan Zhan answers the unspoken question. ‘It’s a good time for A-Yuan to learn to write his first characters.’

Wei Wuxian leaves them be. He seeks out Wen Qing to give her the silver taels from the sale (‘See who’s visited again?’ she asks in a too-casual tone), then he watches the student and teacher as he carries out a few repairs.

‘Do not slouch.’ Lan Zhan touches A-Yuan’s back with a finger, and the boy straightens. His posture is perfect; Lan Zhan has exacting standards.

Wei Wuxian used to taunt Lan Zhan, how he was too scholarly and rigid and dull — Heavens, Wei Wuxian was annoying — but he can’t imagine a better role model for A-Yuan. That Hanguang-Jun himself is teaching this Wen boy — this is a gift beyond reckoning.

A-Yuan would do very well to grow up to resemble Lan Zhan.

When the lesson finishes, A-Yuan bounces towards him, waving the paper where he wrote his first character.

‘Xian-gege, look!’ His fingers are ink-stained, he’s beaming with pride, and Wei Wuxian’s heart breaks. He’d like to give A-Yuan the world, but the only thing he can offer him is Burial Mounds.

Ah, no use in feeling morose. Smiling widely, Wei Wuxian crouches in front of the boy, his hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re very hard-working, A-Yuan. Did you thank Hanguang-Jun for the lesson?’

A-Yuan bows to Lan Zhan, his form better this time, and trots off to show his achievement to the aunties, who coo around him, exclaiming how elegant his handwriting is. A-Yuan preens.

‘You’re setting a dangerous example, Lan Zhan.’ Wei Wuxian pouts. ‘Food, toys, clothing… Now he’ll expect lessons.’ He tsks exaggeratedly. ‘Can you imagine me teaching him?’

‘I can.’ Lan Zhan doesn’t look like he’s joking. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure Lan Zhan can joke.

‘Ah, Lan Zhan…’ Wei Wuxian strolls towards his cave. ‘Sometimes I don’t understand you at all. You either have no faith in me or you have too much of it.’

Lan Zhan follows Wei Wuxian into the dim, echoing space. He’s given no indication he wants or intends to leave soon. Nothing’s keeping him in Burial Mounds, except — except that something is.

And maybe, a hidden part of Wei Wuxian whispers, maybe it’s not A-Yuan.

‘Wei Ying.’

Wei Wuxian turns to face him.

‘I have faith in you,’ Lan Zhan explains. When Wei Wuxian raises a disbelieving eyebrow, he adds, ‘I have no faith in crafty tricks.’

A few simple words that illuminate the gulf that separates them: esteemed Lan disciple and hated fugitive. Powerful cultivator and man without a golden core. An insurmountable gap that Wei Wuxian likes to forget exists sometimes — he likes to imagine they’re still friends. Still equals.

‘I’m doing well so far, aren’t I?’ he throws at Lan Zhan. Anger stirs, murky and dark, tasting of bile. What he can and can’t control is his business. ‘I have borders that can’t be breached, I’m growing lotuses on a mountain, and the fiercest corpse in the land is in my kitchen, turning out to be some cook.’

‘Wei Ying—’

‘Please don’t ask me to come to Gusu with you.’

Lan Zhan says nothing.

‘Let’s not have this argument again.’ Wei Wuxian deflates. ‘Let’s eat. Will you stay?’

Lan Zhan stays. He takes a seat across from Wei Wuxian, his impassive expression betraying none of his thoughts. The turmoil inside Wei Wuxian is probably spilled all over his face.

The cave is dry and cool, redolent of melting wax from the candles scattered on rocks and ledges. The darkness smothers the space around the flickering flames, pressing thick against the light. Discarded talismans litter the dusty floor. This is where Wei Wuxian sleeps, where he invents, where he eats, where he remembers. And yet it only feels like home when Lan Zhan is in it.

‘So much of our history has taken place in caves,’ Wei Wuxian muses. ‘Want to guess which cave we’ll meet in next? Perhaps we’ll find another monster to kill.’

Wen Ning appears in the entrance, carrying a tray. He sets down the plates: rice, turnips, and something rather astonishing.

‘What’s this?’ Wei Wuxian prods the juicy chunks of meat with his chopsticks. He’s pretty sure they can’t afford pork.

Wen Ning’s eyes flick to Lan Zhan. ‘Hanguang-Jun brought ten Jins of pork earlier.’ He takes in Wei Wuxian’s narrowed eyes and Lan Zhan’s calm but obstinate demeanour and makes the wise decision to flee.

‘Don’t tell me you had a spare pig lying about, Lan Zhan. Isn’t the Lan Sect vegetarian?’

Lan Zhan doesn’t pretend this is anything other than charity. ‘A-Yuan has lost weight.’

‘Aiya, he’s a growing boy. He eats more than all of us combined.’

Lan Zhan’s eyes are on his bowl. ‘You have lost weight, too.’

Oh, it’s not fair for Lan Zhan to disarm him like that.

A lump chokes Wei Wuxian’s words in his throat. Shijie was the one who made sure he and Jiang Cheng ate their fill. Shijie was the one who bought the best treats for him. Shijie was the one who stuffed buns and pies into Wei Wuxian’s palm when she judged he looked peaky.

Wei Wuxian had never dreamed anyone else would worry if he ate enough. Something warm and golden spreads under his skin. His hollow parts, the empty, shivery spaces inside him, are lit up by the unrelenting force that is Lan Zhan’s care.

He’s not sure what to do with it, this precious attention. He fears he’ll break it like he’s broken everything else, so he aims for a joke. Deflect, Wei Wuxian. Shaken and trying not to show it, he moves without thinking and curls his fingers around Lan Zhan’s wrist as he is reaching for the teapot.

‘I’m a growing boy too.’

His teasing is half-hearted. The other half of his heart is in his throat.

They’ve touched before, many times. Wei Wuxian has grabbed Lan Zhan by the arm; he’s bumped shoulders with him; he’s been held against him after the killing of the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and yet this — this feels different. Reckless.

Perhaps it’s because this time he’s touching skin. His fingers are light on Lan Zhan’s wrist, soft as newly fallen snow, reverent. The desire to slide them higher is overwhelming. He can’t think of anything he wants more than to stroke the skin under Lan Zhan’s sleeve, reach higher: the inside of his elbow. The firm biceps. The curve of the shoulder, the dip of the neck, the hollow between his collarbones. Wei Wuxian’s mouth is dry, his heart throbbing against his ribs, aching with how much he wants this.

But Lan Zhan stiffens and withdraws his arm. His face closes off, unreadable. He doesn’t chastise Wei Wuxian or storm out, but he looks uncomfortable, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t press it more.

Weeks pass, and no sign of Lan Zhan. Well done, Wei Ying, he congratulates himself on long, bitter nights. You’ve managed to send away yet another person who cared for you. He’s ruined even this small thing, this gift he had: Lan Zhan’s visits.

At night, A-Yuan snuggles next to him in bed. His cheeks are rounder now, pink. Because of Lan Zhan.

‘Why doesn’t Rich Gege stay with us?’ the boy asks.

Wei Wuxian can’t imagine Lan Zhan living in Burial Mounds, dirty with soil, suffering from hunger and mosquito bites like the rest of them. He doesn’t want this for Lan Zhan. He wants him to continue being the Bearer of Light, the shining example against which no other cultivators measure up.

‘He has duties with his Sect,’ he tells A-Yuan, which isn’t untruthful. ‘Besides, if he lived here, he’d stop being a rich gege. No more toys for A-Yuan.’ He flicks the boy’s nose and gestures at the new wooden butterflies Lan Zhan brought in his last visit. A-Yuan giggles and agrees that it’s best for Rich Gege to stay Rich Gege.

‘Only, I miss him,’ the child says. He spreads under the thin blanket, his eyes shutting, voice slurring with sleep. ‘Not because of the toys. I think he’s nice.’

It’s easy not to miss someone when you’re busy, Wei Wuxian tells himself. The cabbages are flourishing, the lotuses are growing, A-Yuan is getting taller. There are inventions to perfect, turnips to sell, bursts of resentful energy to quell. No time to spend pining. Best to shove the hurt down with all the other hurts, the other lonelinesses. And if Wei Wuxian’s prone to rambling on about Lan Zhan when he’s had some of Fourth Uncle’s wine, who’s to know besides Wen Qing?

But suppressing things only makes them stronger, so when Lan Zhan emerges from the woods one crisp, cold afternoon, the force of Wei Wuxian’s desire kicks him in the chest like a mule.

‘Lan Zhan!’ he runs out to greet him when he gets a semblance of control over himself. ‘A-Yuan will be sorry he missed you. Third Uncle took him fishing in the stream.’

A faint ripple in Lan Zhan’s expression is the only indication of his disappointment.

It won’t do to have Lan Zhan sad. ‘May this one show you the changes since your last visit?’ He accompanies his formal tone with a playful grin, and something deep inside him brightens at the way Lan Zhan’s expression lifts.

The lotuses receive the biggest praise (‘Elegant.’). Lan Zhan’s greeted by the aunties and uncles like an old friend. He’s their only guest, one who’s come to see them repeatedly, one who’s partaken of their stale tea and homegrown turnips. It’s a relief to know that there is one person who hasn’t abandoned them.

I won’t ruin it this time. Wei Wuxian has promised many things to many people, but he wants to keep this vow. So, he maintains a respectful distance, teasing Lan Zhan with words and smiles but not bumps or touches. Just because he’s been having thoughts about Lan Zhan, thoughts that arise in the dark and should remain there, it doesn’t mean that Hanguang-Jun has to suffer Wei Wuxian’s clumsy attraction.

Hanguang-Jun brightens every room he’s in. The Yiling Patriarch is meant for the night.

After the tour, they end up in the cave, where Wei Wuxian explains his idea for a spirit trap. A lure. He leads Lan Zhan to a mound of musty scraps of fabric he found cheap at the market. They stand over the pile, examining the talismans Wei Wuxian has been drawing on the scraps.

‘A formation of flags,’ he says, excited that for once his audience can follow his reasoning. It’s not the same talking about this to A-Yuan and Granny. ‘With the right talismans and the right positioning, I believe it could work.’

‘This could be executed by juniors too.’

‘Yes! But the strength of the cultivator will increase the formation’s luring power.’

They turn the idea between them like a pebble, smoothing its edges. The wind has picked up, whistling through the cave entrance, bringing a shiver to Wei Wuxian’s back. The candles gutter, throwing long shapes on the rocky walls. Lan Zhan is beautiful in the candlelight. The memory of his skin has burned through Wei Wuxian’s mind night after night, a single fire bright in the darkness.

‘I have brought something for A-Yuan.’ Wei Wuxian drags his attention to the present as Lan Zhan slips his hand inside his robes. ‘Would you be kind enough to give it to him?’

‘What is it this time?’ Wei Wuxian smiles. ‘Another toy? A book? A Lan ribb—’

It’s none of these: in Lan Zhan’s palm rests a gleaming bamboo flute suitable for a child, with a tassel in the Wen colours. ‘You could teach him to play. Children pick up music very easily.’

Wei Wuxian’s lungs struggle for air. ‘Are you not afraid he’ll become like the despicable Yiling Laozu?’

Lan Zhan says, ‘I do not see Yiling Laozu as such.’

‘Lan Zhan, you’re—’ You’re impossible. You’re too much. You’re making me want to break the promise to myself.

He reaches for the flute, careful to avoid touching Lan Zhan.

The flute is a beautifully crafted thing. Wei Wuxian strokes the smooth surface, picturing himself with A-Yuan, lessons out in the courtyard, the music piercing the gloom, summoning the light.

Hope is a dangerous thing. To dream of a future where the darkness might be held at bay by something so simple as a child learning music.

Wei Wuxian’s chest is tight. Everything feels too heavy, too large, too fragile.

‘Wei Ying.’ A note of concern slips into Lan Zhan’s voice.

Wei Wuxian raises his eyes and instinctively steps back. Lan Zhan has moved close to him. Rarely does Wei Wuxian stay speechless; no wonder Lan Zhan is worried. But standing close enough to touch — to touch — is also dangerous.

‘I’m fine.’ Wei Wuxian increases their distance. ‘I’m— er— planning what song to teach A-Yuan first.’ He half-remembers a song Lan Zhan sang for him once — what was the name of it again?

‘Wei Ying.’ Lan Zhan frowns. The candlelight catches on his silver hairpiece, sharp like starlight. He glances at Wei Wuxian, who hovers by the flat rock where he keeps his notes on the consciousness of fierce corpses. Lan Zhan takes in the distance that separates them and deliberately steps closer.

Wei Wuxian retreats further. To his horror and unspeakable delight, Lan Zhan follows.

‘Wei Ying.’ Lan Zhan has walked Wei Wuxian backwards until he’s reached the wall. The chill of the stone seeps through Wei Wuxian’s robes.

He offers a shaky laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m not avoiding you, Lan Zhan. No, no. I—’ I’m trying not to jump your bones. You’re heartbreakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly kind and all I can think of is the shape of your mouth when you call my name. He purses his lips not to let anything stupid like that come out.

Lan Zhan meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes. He’s radiant, even in this dim space. Blue and ivory like the spring sky, silver like moonlight, Lan Zhan doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong in this former graveyard, in a cave with Wei Wuxian’s mad inventions and threadbare blankets and his yearning, foolish, overreaching heart.

‘Wei Ying.’ A pause, delicate. Shy? ‘I didn’t mind.’

Wei Wuxian’s brain tries to make sense of this while Lan Zhan stands a breath away from him. A flush spreads on Lan Zhan’s ears; his fists are curled and his shoulders stiff — but he remains still, his gaze intent.

‘It’s been weeks.’ Wei Wuxian tries not to make it an accusation.

Lan Zhan bows his head in— apology? Regret? ‘I had—’ He pauses. ‘Forgive me. I needed— time.’ He meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes again, his amber gaze intent. ‘But I didn’t mind.’

Lan Zhan... he’s asking for something.

‘You didn’t mind that I touched you?’ Hope — oh that dangerous, dangerous thing — unfurls in Wei Wuxian.

‘Mn.’ Lan Zhan’s ears are bright pink now.

Wei Wuxian swallows. This is surely a hallucination.

But he can smell the sandalwood emanating from Lan Zhan’s clothes, the fresh scent of his hair. He can see the elegant column of his throat, backlit by the guttering candles; a play of light and shadow on Lan Zhan’s neck. The wind whistles around the cave, and Wei Wuxian speaks.

‘Would you mind if I did this?’ He raises his hand — attempt the impossible — and trails his fingertips along Lan Zhan’s neck. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. He’s sure his heart is going to jump out of his chest: another space left hollow inside him. Another place for Lan Zhan to fill.

Wei Wuxian strokes the jade-like skin, carefully, eyes fixed on Lan Zhan’s face. Lan Zhan’s eyes flutter; a trembling of his eyelashes. When Wei Wuxian removes his hand, a frustrated sound escapes Lan Zhan’s mouth.

‘More?’ Wei Wuxian’s tempted to be playful, to lighten the weight of what is happening, but Lan Zhan’s gaze is the most serious it’s ever been. Wei Wuxian slides his hand in Lan Zhan’s, palm to palm, heart line to heart line. Drags him closer. Stills for a breath, like before a plunge, and speaks against Lan Zhan’s mouth, each word a brush of lips. ‘How about this then?’

Lan Zhan lets out a small, desperate whimper. It travels through Wei Wuxian’s mouth and bounces inside him: longing meeting longing, desire matching desire. He lets himself move then, truly move, wraps himself around Lan Zhan like he wanted to, lets himself be pressed against the stone, lets himself be kissed and touched — and loved.

* * *

Wei Wuxian stretches his fingers in the moonlight, the chilly night nuzzling against his skin. Winter is approaching swiftly, the peaks around them dusted with snow. The Wens’ first spring in Burial Mounds has come and gone, summer and then autumn; the seasons rolling one after the other, unhurried like Lan Zhan’s hands on Wei Wuxian’s skin on the nights he visits.

Something warm falls on Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. A voice in his ear, as welcome as spring rain. ‘It’s cold.’

Hands — hands he knows intimately — smooth Wei Wuxian’s hair over the warm robes. Lan Zhan, looking after him, as he always does. Wei Wuxian turns to gaze at his beloved. Lan Zhan’s hair is down, his expression unguarded. There are bruises on Wei Wuxian’s neck that match the shape of Lan Zhan’s lips.

He slides his hand in Lan Zhan’s, and Lan Zhan’s expression lights up as it always does when they touch. He pulls Wei Wuxian gently inside. ‘It’s cold. Come back to bed.’

Wei Wuxian smiles, and does.

#ksgsworld #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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