#that one dramatic (or in some adult cases trivial) thing happened and i was so upset and foolish that i did it

[priscilla9993]

Killian Jones and Alcoholism

This is mainly a summary of things relating Killian/Hook to alcohol/rum. It was done for a college paper and is very long, therefore it’s under the break. To warn you, it is going to be mainly Wish Hook based since I needed to narrow it down and it was easier to show how he handled alcohol as a recovering alcoholic. Enjoy!

The character in question for this case study is Killian Jones, well known by his more colorful moniker of Captain Hook, as portrayed from the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. He lives in a region of a fantasy realm known as the Enchanted Forest. He used to be a Royal Navy Lieutenant with his older brother Liam, straight-laced on being good and not getting into trouble in any way, especially after getting somewhere in life and no longer subjected to being an indentured deckhand like when their father abandoned them as kids. During a daring quest to Neverland to find some medicine for the king, Peter Pan said they had been tricked to bring back a poisonous plant called Dreamshade, meant to be used as a weapon against unsuspecting enemies. Killian was wary, ready to denounce his service to the king, but his brother was willing to have faith in a noble king and country. With one swift motion of the plant’s prick hoping to prove otherwise, Liam began dying and realized his mistake. Recruiting the help of Pan and some magical water, Liam was cured but soon died in Killian’s arms on the voyage back to the king, the price of the magic being death if Liam ever left Neverland with the water running through his veins. His brother’s death made Killian vengeful at his king and country as his brother had been noble until the very end and everyone else was corrupt, playing noble, proving to him that the world was at fault. From that day on, he took over the ship and decided to be a pirate named Captain Jones, pursuing freedom, and throwing away all he’s ever known because being noble didn’t serve justice. This starts his life of thievery, promiscuity, and never-ending drinking. His coping solutions to deal with his emotional pain only gets worse when he loses his hand, first love of his life, Milah, and his honor after losing a duel against Rumplestiltskin, a coward turned into a powerful Dark One; which leads him on a path of revenge to kill the Rumplestiltskin, “the crocodile”, to avenge Milah and his pride. This leads him to makeshift a hook for a hand and him going by the nickname of Captain Hook, leaving the last piece of his past behind and never letting himself be vulnerable again.

Throughout the series, whenever he or someone in his vicinity is having a rough time, his solution is to pour out some alcohol and drink his feelings away, acting like an egotistical flirt rather than expressing himself and wallowing in misery. His choice of alcohol happens to be rum, a hard liquor. The acute symptoms he has in the show are the loss of judgment, a reddened face, confusion, potentially heightened sexual desire, and sometimes blackouts/unconsciousness. There are multiple times where he’s in a tavern, pouring doubloons into drinks for his crew, rum for himself, and flirting with women/barmaids to have a nightcap with. From here on, I will refer to him as Hook unless stated otherwise. On one occasion of his usual proclivities displaying or implying such symptoms, Hook tries to seduce a woman named Emma. She manages to use his habit of drinking to her advantage, making him jolly and willing to take her back to his ship for the said nightcap; her actual objective was being a distraction while his future self did recon for info on how to get back to their timeline in a Back to the Future sort of way. He continues heavily drinking on the way back with Emma without a care for his health. As soon as the plan goes awry with Hook seeing double, Emma not realizing Future Hook was still doing recon, he gets knocked out for good measure and partial jealousy. Future Hook justifies this, saying his past self was “asking to be knocked out, will wake up upset, and blame the rum.” The lines construe how frequent the drinking was for his future self to determine Hook’s ill-mannered disposition while drunk. 

Eventually, in a parallel way that stems from drunk Hook, is a feeble and spent pirate coined as “Wish Hook”. I have and will be focusing on this iteration for the whole of the paper, but what was written before was his younger self’s background. Wish Hook is the same guy as Hook, but years older down the line, differing paths from Future Hook as he never found love again with someone like Emma and had let his grief and alcohol from more recent negative events consume him. Wish Hook had lived out most of his lifespan, having been a sober father, but cursed to be poisoned any time he drew near his daughter after a witch encounter. Haunted by his regrets and somber circumstances, he turned back to an alcoholic, spending his days eased by rum. His body and actions in this form show the physical and mental effects of chronic alcohol consumption. About ten years or less had passed between his younger self and he had become an experienced middle-aged man with a complicated history, yet he looked far older than his years and decrepit. Without a doubt, by looking at him, people could assume he was an old drunk, his liver and heart having gotten fatty and overworked from the alcohol catching up to him. His belly was rotund, his hair disheveled and gray with streaks of white, his stance crumbling to nearly falling over with each step, and clothes dirtied with filth and old rum stains. Wish Hook still had a flirty and dramatic personality to cheer himself up and mask his turmoil, rum making him courageous and numb, while his actions told another story. He didn’t have sexual desires or try to provoke anyone by that point, just wanted to drown himself in alcohol. His words typically came out slurred, his movements sluggish and unrefined, and he had low problem-solving skills when it came to formulating a plan based on anything other than motive.

In the Enchanted Forest, alcohol like rum is not hard to come by as long as money is involved. Killian Jones/Captain Hook as a pirate drinking rum all the time did not affect him negatively socially or career-wise. If anything, it boosted his status and reputation. For him to be mingling in bars asking for expensive hard liquor and fine women to spend time with was a pleasantry. Bar owners got money, the crew got free alcohol, the women got paid, and he got to immerse himself in pleasure rather than thinking about trivial or serious things. Hook was the life of the party as a pirate captain, seen as a person with good tastes and great to have a fun time with when it came to alcohol. However, when it came to settling down and being a father later on in his life, Wish Hook reserved himself back to his more vulnerable side, caring about how his alcoholism could affect his parenting or child’s perspective. There are moments like that where he’s introspective and wants to do better by others that look up to him or who he cares about. In the show, when he is parenting, there is never a time where he has a bottle or flask of rum stashed nearby or is drinking. Wish Hook deems alcohol as the problem when it affects his judgment or his perceptions on how he could hurt the way people he loves view him. Love in any form brings him back to his core of being the best person he can be.

Killian Jones’s problem originates in nurture rather than nature because his alcohol problems started after he needed a reliable coping mechanism to lean on to deal with grief and anger. Although both nature and nurture influence him, for argument’s sake, nurture has the upper hand. Growing up, his father was a person he looked up to and wanted to be like, but that changed when he found out his father was a criminal who sold him and Liam to pay a route for a selfish escape. What little of his parents shown on-screen left betrayal or sadness in him, not the desire to drink. His parents weren’t clear on alcoholics or drug users as far as it goes. The only things he inherited from nature were probably his mischievous personality, temper, looks, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Living on a ship and being a poor deckhand, Killian didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to squander his savings on alcohol or other frivolous means. However, he would be on a ship constantly surrounded by adults who drank with a captain who cared more about money rather than morals, feeling squandered by his oppressed freedom and building resentment for authority. Without his brother steering him on track, Killian was no more than a young man with impulsive rebellious nature. When Liam went to get them navy papers to earn them their freedom from Captain Silver, it took Killian an offer of temptations from Silver, as much alcohol as he could drink and a bet on his money, for him to fall hook, line, and sinker; no pun intended. Alcohol and gambling meant a reprieve from thoughts, a chance at earning more than what he had before, and the same social standing as the other men aboard the ship. Perhaps, as much as he wanted to be strong as his brother, one good force cannot shield against all of the negative parts of society and adulthood. From Captain Silver, Killian got his first taste of alcohol and his desires did the rest, leaving him blackout drunk and penniless for Liam to find. As he grew older and slowly became Captain Hook, there was nothing about pirate life, being an adult, or people to keep him from drinking. He needed people to talk to, who supported him and he could feel vulnerable in front of, but the few people he trusted in his life were dead. As anyone knows, pirates steal treasure, so they’re not exactly the forgiving or down-to-earth types. Instead, rum became the solution to drown or fuel his emotions, being the substance of celebration and de-stressor.  

Hook’s rum/alcohol addiction would fall more on the dependence spectrum rather than abuse. What had started as a small reprieve to the woes of life became a daily saving grace when he was wracked with loneliness or anger. He depended on the rum to mask his disposition of physical pain from his missing limb as well as emotional pain having experienced love and loss. Abusing alcohol meant that it would put him into dangerous scenarios, have little to no commitment to change his habits to improve his health, and he’d put off important social aspects. If it was alcohol abuse, Hook wouldn’t try changing his habits when he sees it affects others or his relationship with those he loves. Sure, he spends most of his life binge drinking and making merry with the tides of life, but when given the chance and support to abstain from alcohol, he takes it in a heartbeat. For Wish Hook, the thought of being a father who abandons his child or messes up under hazy judgment didn’t add up to him. With the birth of his daughter, Alice, he made a vow to stay with her as long as he could and to be the person he thought she could be proud of. Nevertheless, when he had lost purpose in life by something he had no control over (via death, distance, or curse), his first reaction was to either turn back to alcohol or solve his problems. Sadly, after he had spent a couple of years looking for a cure for his poison heart curse, he gave up hope and chose to go from sobriety back to alcoholism, into a form of regrettable self-destruction. Hook knew that it was not the way to go about life but he felt he had no other choice and had nothing left to lose, leading him to further prioritize and depend on rum to continue living. He built a tolerance to it, needing a copious amount to get drunk, and potentially suffering withdrawals from it after getting in too deep. From the state he was in by the time he gets old and portly, being a nearly homeless drunkard, it can be assumed that he spent most of his days looking for money to acquire more alcohol so he could feel okay.  

Finally, by the end of the series, Killian Jones had managed to go through all the stages in the Stages of Change Model. He was in the Precontemplation stage as a pirate and Captain Hook as he didn’t see a problem in his daily rum and alcohol festivities, making no commitment to change his ways. By the time he gets to be Wish Hook and becomes a father, hesitant about settling down, he could be in the Contemplation stage. He’d want to do something about his alcohol problem and not be stuck relying on it but doesn’t know how to go about it or why he should, therefore staying stagnant to change. When he has his daughter, Alice, in his arms for the first time, we see him in the Preparation stage, planning to give up his ship, sea life, status, and most importantly, rum. Hook gives himself time to think of why he would do so and how he’d commit to it, eventually telling his crew the news. By the time he is taking care of her, he has already taken the actions needed to wean himself off alcohol and apply himself towards abstinence, taking him through the Action and Maintenance stages. There is a relapse back to the Contemplation stage in the paragraph before when he becomes poisoned and loses hope. Even so, the silver lining is that he had made the hard journey back into the Maintenance stage with the help of Ariel detoxing him and others giving him a magical second chance of bodily time renewal, sparking the hope to reunite with Alice and find a cure for his poisoned heart.  

Plans go awry on this end as we get to his final iteration as he is teleported and cursed into our modern day and age as Detective Rogers. Although his memories of what happened in the past as this persona are fuzzy, he is shown to stick to his renewed alcohol abstinence and maintains that in many ways, just like when he was Wish Hook. His habits become integrated as a function rather than a hindrance as part of the Maintenance stage. As Rogers, we can see him frequent bars such as Roni’s or Flynn’s Barcade when he is invited out with others. He is shown to let others know what to get him, as a regular or not, something non-alcoholic. This usually shows up as sparkling water or regular water with a lemon slice in it. His friends and work partner continue to support his sobriety through friendly acceptance and never forcing him to drink alcohol along with them. Rogers is tempted by alcohol again when he believes a missing girl from a cold case, one he was responsible for since he was drinking on the night she went missing, is dead. He sits on a park bench alone grieving, a full bottle of rum next to him, ready to drink. As Rogers gives it a whiff, he is disgusted at himself for getting back to this state again and slams the bottle down on the bench in frustration, not even having taken a sip. He came too far that doing so again would be meaningless and would get him nowhere. Even though he is in situations full of temptation, he makes huge strides to not relapse and maintain his sobriety, with the hopes that it will eventually lead him back on the right path of happiness and belonging. Fortunately, his actions have positive consequences that ring true when the curse breaks and he gets reunited with his daughter and has the strong support of friends and family. In conclusion, Hook is a flawed human being that is more complex and his struggle with alcohol/rum is just a part of him, one he will never lose but continues living with.

#killian jones #captain hook #wish hook #detective rogers #killian jones meta #alcoholism #alcohol #stages of change #character study #ouat s7 #liam jones #slight emma swan mention

[uomo-accattivante]

Fantastic (but long) article about Theater of War’s recent productions, including Oedipus the King and Antigone in Ferguson, featuring Oscar Isaac. The following are excerpts. The full article is viewable via the source link below:

Excerpt:

“Children of Thebes, why are you here?” Oscar Isaac asked. His face filled the monitor on my dining table. (It was my partner’s turn to use the desk.) We were a couple of months into lockdown, just past seven in the evening, and a few straggling cheers for essential workers came in through the window. Isaac was looking smoldery with a quarantine beard, a gold chain, an Airpod, and a black T-shirt. His display name was set to “Oedipus.”

Isaac was one of several famous actors performing Sophocles’ “Oedipus the King” from their homes, in the first virtual performance by Theater of War Productions: a group that got its start in 2008, staging Sophocles’ “Ajax” and “Philoctetes” for U.S. military audiences and, beginning in 2009, on military installations around the world, including in Kuwait, Qatar, and Guantánamo Bay, with a focus on combat trauma. After each dramatic reading, a panel made up of people in active service, veterans, military spouses, and/or psychiatrists would describe how the play resonated with their experiences of war, before opening up the discussion to the audience. Since its founding, Theater of War Productions has addressed different kinds of trauma. It has produced Euripides’ “The Bacchae” in rural communities affected by the opioid crisis, “The Madness of Heracles” in neighborhoods afflicted by gun violence and gang wars, and Aeschylus’ “Prometheus Bound” in prisons. “Antigone in Ferguson,” which focusses on crises between communities and law enforcement, was motivated by an analogy between Oedipus’ son’s unburied body and that of Michael Brown, left on the street for roughly four hours after Brown was killed by police; it was originally performed at Michael Brown’s high school.

Now, with trauma roving the globe more contagiously than ever, Theater of War Productions had traded its site-specific approach for Zoom. The app was configured in a way I hadn’t seen before. There were no buttons to change between gallery and speaker view, which alternated seemingly by themselves. You were in a “meeting,” but one you were powerless to control, proceeding by itself, with the inexorability of fate. There was no way to view the other audience members, and not even the group’s founder and director, Bryan Doerries, knew how numerous they were. Later, Zoom told him that it had been fifteen thousand. This is roughly the seating capacity of the theatre of Dionysus, where “Oedipus the King” is believed to have premièred, around 429 B.C. Those viewers, like us, were in the middle of a pandemic: in their case, the Plague of Athens.

The original audience would have known Oedipus’ story from Greek mythology: how an oracle had predicted that Laius, the king of Thebes, would be killed by his own son, who would then sleep with his mother; how the queen, Jocasta, gave birth to a boy, and Laius pierced and bound the child’s ankles, and ordered a shepherd to leave him on a mountainside. The shepherd took pity on the maimed baby, Oedipus (“swollen foot”), and gave him to a Corinthian servant, who handed him off to the king and queen of Corinth, who raised him as their son. Years later, Oedipus killed Laius at a crossroads, without knowing who he was. Then he saved Thebes from a Sphinx, became the king of Thebes, had four children with Jocasta, and lived happily for many years.

That’s where Sophocles picks up the story. Everyone would have known where things were headed—the truth would come out, and Oedipus would blind himself—but not how they would get there. How Sophocles got there was by drawing on contemporary events, on something that was in everyone’s mind, though it doesn’t appear in the original myth: a plague.

In the opening scene, Thebes is in the grip of a terrible epidemic. Oedipus’ subjects come to the palace, imploring him to save the city, describing the scene of pestilence and panic, the screaming and the corpses in the street. Something about the way Isaac voiced Oedipus’ response—“Children. I am sorry. I know”—made me feel a kind of longing. It was a degree of compassion conspicuous by its absence in the current Administration. I never think of myself as someone who wants or needs “leadership,” yet I found myself thinking, We would be better off with Oedipus. “I would be a weak leader if I did not follow the gods’ orders,” Isaac continued, subverting the masculine norm of never asking for advice. He had already sent for the best information out there, from the Delphic Oracle.

Soon, Oedipus’ brother-in-law, Creon—John Turturro, in a book-lined study—was doing his best to soft-pedal some weird news from Delphi. Apparently, the oracle said that the plague wouldn’t end until the people of Thebes expelled Laius’ killer: a person who was somehow still in the city, even though Laius had died many years earlier on an out-of-town trip. Oedipus called in the blind prophet, Tiresias, played by Jeffrey Wright, whose eyes were invisible behind a circular glare in his eyeglasses.

Reading “Oedipus” in the past, I had always been exasperated by Tiresias, by his cryptic lamentations—“I will never reveal the riddles within me, or the evil in you”—and the way he seemed incapable of transmitting useful information. Spoken by a Black actor in America in 2020, the line made a sickening kind of sense. How do you tell the voice of power that the problem is in him, really baked in there, going back generations? “Feel free to spew all of your vitriol and rage in my direction,” Tiresias said, like someone who knew he was in for a tweetstorm.

Oedipus accused Tiresias of treachery, calling out his disability. He cast suspicion on foreigners, and touted his own “wealth, power, unsurpassed skill.” He decried fake news: “It’s all a scam—you know nothing about interpreting birds.” He elaborated a deep-state scenario: Creon had “hatched a secret plan to expel me from office,” eliciting slanderous prophecies from supposedly disinterested agencies. It was, in short, a coup, designed to subvert the democratic will of the people of Thebes.

Frances McDormand appeared next, in the role of Jocasta. Wearing no visible makeup, speaking from what looked like a cabin somewhere with wood-panelled walls, she resembled the ghost of some frontierswoman. I realized, when I saw her, that I had never tried to picture Jocasta: not her appearance, or her attitude. What was her deal? How had she felt about Laius maiming their baby? How had she felt about being offered as a bride to whomever defeated the Sphinx? What did she think of Oedipus when she met him? Did it never seem weird to her that he was her son’s age, and had horrible scars on his ankles? How did they get along, those two?

When you’re reading the play, you don’t have to answer such questions. You can entertain multiple possibilities without settling on one. But actors have to make decisions and stick to them. One decision that had been made in this case: Oedipus really liked her. “Since I have more respect for you, my dear, than anyone else in the world,” Isaac said, with such warmth in “my dear.” I was reminded of the fact that Euripides wrote a version of “Oedipus”—lost to posterity, like the majority of Greek tragedies—that some scholars suggest foregrounds the loving relationshipbetween Oedipus and Jocasta.

Jocasta’s immediate task was to defuse the potentially murderous argument between her husband and her brother. She took one of the few rhetorical angles available to a woman: why, such grown men ought to be ashamed of themselves, carrying on so when there was a plague going on. And yet, listening to the lines that McDormand chose to emphasize, it was clear that, in the guise of adult rationality and spreading peace, what she was actually doing was silencing and trivializing. “Come inside,” she said, “and we’ll settle this thing in private. And both of you quit making something out of nothing.” It was the voice of denial, and, through the play, you could hear it spread from character to character.

By this point in the performance, I found myself spinning into a kind of cognitive overdrive, toggling between the text and the performance, between the historical context, the current context, and the “universal” themes. No matter how many times you see it pulled off, the magic trick is always a surprise: how a text that is hundreds or thousands of years old turns out to be about the thing that’s happening to you, however modern and unprecedented you thought it was.

Excerpt:

The riddle of the Sphinx plays out in the plot of “Oedipus,” particularly in a scene near the end where the truth finally comes out. Two key figures from Oedipus’ infancy are brought in for questioning: the Theban shepherd, who was supposed to kill baby Oedipus but didn’t; and the Corinthian messenger to whom he handed off the maimed child. The Theban shepherd is walking proof that the Sphinx’s riddle is hard, because that man can’t recognize anyone: not the Corinthian, whom he last saw as a young man, and certainly not Oedipus, a baby with whom he’d had a passing acquaintance decades earlier. “It all took place so long ago,” he grumbles. “Why on earth would you ask me?”

“Because,” the Corinthian (David Strathairn) explained genially on Zoom, “this man whom you are now looking at was once that child.”

This, for me, was the scene with the catharsis in it. At a certain point, the shepherd (Frankie Faison) clearly understood everything, but would not or could not admit it. Oedipus, now determined to learn the truth at all costs, resorted to enhanced interrogation. “Bend back his arms until they snap,” Isaac said icily; in another window, Faison screamed in highly realistic agony. Faison was a personification of psychological resistance: the mechanism a mind develops to protect itself from an unbearable truth. Those invisible guardsmen had to nearly kill him before he would admit who had given him the baby: “It was Laius’s child, or so people said. Your wife could tell you more.”

Tears glinted in Isaac’s eyes as he delivered the next line, which I suddenly understood to be the most devastating in the whole play: “Did . . . she . . . give it to you?” How had I never fully realized, never felt, how painful it would have been for Oedipus to realize that his parents hadn’t loved him?

Excerpt:

If we borrow the terms of Greek drama, 2020 might be viewed as the year of anagnorisis: tragic recognition. On August 9th, the sixth anniversary of the shooting of Michael Brown, I watched the Theater of War Productions put on a Zoom production of “Antigone in Ferguson”: an adaptation of Sophocles’ “Oedipus” narrative sequel, with the chorus represented by a demographically and ideologically diverse gospel choir. Oscar Isaac was back, this time as Creon, Oedipus’ successor as king. He started out as a bullying inquisitor (“I will have your extremities removed one by one until you reveal the criminal’s name”), ordering Antigone (Tracie Thoms) to be buried alive, insulting everyone who criticized him, and accusing Tiresias of corruption. But then Tiresias, with the help of the chorus, persuaded Creon to reconsider. In a sustained gospel number, the Thebans, armed with picks and shovels, led by their king, rushed to free Antigone.

“Antigone” being a tragedy, they got there too late, resulting in multiple deaths, and in Isaac’s once again totally losing his shit. It was almost the same performance he gave in “Oedipus,” and yet, where Oedipus begins the play written into a corner, between walls that keep closing in, Creon seems to have just a little more room to maneuver. His misfortune—like that of Antigone and her brother—feels less irreversible. I first saw “Antigone in Ferguson” live, last year, and, in the discussion afterward, the subject of fate—inevitably—came up. I remember how Doerries gently led the audience to view “Antigone” as an illustration of how easily everything might happen differently, and how people’s minds can change. I remember the energy that spread through the room that night, in talk about prison reform and the urgency of collective change.

###

Again, the full article is accessible via the source link below:

#oscar isaac #theater of war #oedipus the king #antigone in ferguson #creon #frances mcdormand #john turturro #jeffrey wright #david strathairn #frankie faison #bryan doerries #sophocles #zoom #the oedipus project

[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 5: Evening Stroll

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves. 

Or, alternatively: 

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

        Hisashi Shigaraki did not consider himself to be the type of individual to regularly lower himself to the level of petty thieves and thugs. He preferred to operate in the shadows, to provide plans and information while reaping their rewards. From a young age he’d dealt in favors, his compassion and intervention never free. His lips twitched. Yes, he’d always been good at bringing people together in the cold dark.

        But there was always an exception to his rules. All it took was one push for everything he’d created to come crumbling down, his livelihood built on sand and dust. His first error was tying his work to others, to the perceived invincibility of the adults around him.

        He’d never make that mistake again.

        The night was cold, cast into the pale yellow glow of the waxing moon. A single eye fixed upon a dark canvas. Hisashi threw his jacket onto the top of the chain link fence and climbed the rickety, rusty thing, careful not to attract too much attention to himself. The cameras were easy to evade. Concerned pedestrians were not.

        Brown oxford shoes landed on dark asphalt with a click, jacket seized and put back on with practiced ease. Hisashi glanced around the dark alleyway one last time. Empty. Good. 

        He rolled up his sleeves. Unfortunately, with the…. unprecedented nature of his parents' deaths there were some loose ends he needed to tie up. Loose ends that couldn't be addressed while slumbering under the watchful gaze of the police precinct. Hisashi strode down the alleyway, possessing a confidence unbecoming of most teenagers. He was not most teenagers. Always he'd done whatever he could to survive and support those under his wing. This would be no different.

        The alleyways were winding and twisting; a maze to those unaccustomed to LA’s numerous backstreets and barren waterways. He walked for ages, breathing in the crisp air like incense. It was here in the quiet darkness and hostile concrete jungle that Hisashi finally felt comfortable, the closest he has ever been to feeling, dare he say, peaceful.

        This would not last. He finally stepped out of the alleyways (between an      apartment complex and a run down 7-11) into a parking lot. There were few occupied parking spaces, the cars’ metallic sheen reflected the convenience store’s warm glow. Hisashi leaned against the telephone pole and reached into his pocket, fiddling with his closed switchblade. There was no such thing as too careful. He waited for a time, observing the land occupied solely by long distance travelers and painfully obvious drug deals. A huff. It seemed there was no one interesting here to spy upon tonight. For shame.

        “Hisashi,” a voice spoke up behind him. Young, only a few years his senior. “I heard about what happened, I’m surprised to find you out here so soon. I thought you were out of the game!”

        He gave a joyless smile and spun on his heel to face the newcomer, “Well, nothing short of death will keep me away from my work for long.”

        The newcomer hummed, “Same as usual I see, I suppose you’re here for information?”

        It took every ounce of willpower to keep from rolling his eyes, “Obviously.” The young man that stood before him, Matt Shield, was talented in the art of keeping his ear to the ground and occupying all the right places at all the right times. Hisashi had saved him a few years ago from getting mugged and beaten bloody by a band of roaming thugs, something that had grown all too common since the economic crash. The fact that Hisashi was the one in charge of said thugs? Well, what Matt didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

        “I’m sure you’re aware I don’t work for free,” Matt continued, eyes gleaming and expectant. He took a sip from his cherry slushie.

        “Name your price,” Hisashi replied, tilting his palms to the sky in a gesture of reception.

        “Now that my friend,” he said, gesturing dramatically with his plastic cup, “depends fully on the information you want.”

        Hisashi felt a burning hot coal of irritation in his chest, he despised this song and dance, but it was a necessary evil, “What do you know of the people who broke into our apartment?”

        Matt tilted his head to the side, “Maybe a limited edition Nintendo Switch will jog my memory.”

        Hisashi pinched the bridge of his nose, unsurprised, “Fine. Any specifics?”

        “I want the Mario one,” Matt grinned, it was all sharp teeth, stained by his beverage, “There should be a used one in the GameStop six blocks west of here, across from the Ross.”

        “I’ll get it to you tonight, behind the car shop,” he responded. There were much better things he’d rather be doing with his time, but information was information.

        Matt reached out his hand, “A pleasure doing business with you.” Hisashi shook it, and instantly felt the urge to wipe his hand on his pants as if they had been contaminated with miasma. He refrained.

        They parted ways, Hisashi beginning his trek westward and Matt slinking back into whatever shadows he had spawned from. Of course he knew what GameStop Matt was referring to, he used to hang out at the bakery next door with his brother while studying for tests. Security there was a lot more lax than usual, the high concentration of stores meant there was a lot of foot traffic, something that shop owners thought was a deterrent.

        Not that they could afford to ramp up security anyways. There were two cameras, one facing the door and one facing the cash register, if he recalled correctly. Hisashi zipped up his jacket and covered his curly white hair with its hood. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a simple black cloth mask, a remnant from the pandemic. Access to precious cold air was cut off as he fastened the smothering fabric to his face. There was no need to hastily give away his identity after all, even if he'd just blend in with the ever-rising crime rates anyways. He was halfway to the store. Hands cold and reddened, he shoved them in his pockets for warmth. Truly, he was irritated that Matt had decided to give him another one of his tests, hadn’t he proven himself capable after all these years? Maybe it was to see if Hisashi had gone soft. If that was the case, he was sorely mistaken.

        The rest of the walk was quiet. He passed a few people on the sidewalk and the road was barren apart from the occasional car. In the distance, he spotted the car parts store. Idly, he wondered if Matt had already made his way there. The young man had always been able to navigate LA’s labyrinth better than most. Hisashi reached an intersection and jammed on the crosswalk button with his elbow.

        After a few beats of silence, a familiar robotic voice rang out, “Walk.” It was glitchy, like a record that had been scratched one too many times. He paced across the street, keeping his head down and eyes fixed on the asphalt. The streetlight cameras were not something he wanted to deal with tonight. His feet hit the other sidewalk and he breathed out a sigh. Only a few more blocks to go. Hisashi thought of his little brother, whose face was nuzzled into his pillow when he had left his side tonight. His brother may be oblivious, innocent to the nastiness of this world, but Hisashi was not. He saw the looks the younger kids in the orphanage shot Tomura when they thought he wasn’t looking. Hisashi could only hope that they would behave and leave him alone while he was out taking care of things. He’d hate to get his hands dirty to protect him again. Speaking of brats, the way Zach was snubbing Tomura was beyond infuriating. He dared to treat his brother so flagrantly? If Tomura wasn’t so fond of the child, he’d be actively hunting him down.

        But alas, he had much more trivial things to do. Hisashi stood behind the GameStop, being sure to obscure himself with the thorny bougainvillea bushes that lined the sidewalk. Unfortunately for him, almost every window and door of this establishment was covered in thick iron bars. The sole exception was the bathroom window, a tiny thing that was slightly opened to let out stuffy air. Taking the screen off the window would be no issue. Squeezing his six foot tall self through the small opening, however? This was going to prove to be a long night.

        Hisashi pulled out his switchblade and flicked it open. He poked around the edges of the screen for a bit until he found a side that gave more than the others. Carefully, he wedged the knife into the crevice and rocked it back and forth before the screen jerked inwards with a satisfying pop. He used his arms to push the screen inwards and winced as it fell to the tiled floor with a loud clatter. Quietly, he crawled through and let out a silent curse when he felt his shoulders get caught in the frame. He thanked his lucky stars that it was the dead of night, if someone walked up to see his ass hanging out of the window he’d never live it down.

        With a little rocking back and forth and quiet swearing he was able to finally squeeze through the narrow opening and slide into the bathroom. Said bathroom was small, roughly the size of a janitorial closet, and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Hisashi felt his nose scrunch up with disgust, fingerprints wouldn’t be the only reason he’d try not to touch anything. He used his coat sleeve to turn the doorknob and poked his head out to examine his surroundings. There seemed to be a small break room to his right, to his left was the rest of the store. It was empty, as he expected. He crept forward, careful to make his footfalls silent and to avoid the cameras. His eyes scanned the shelves, luckily he was already close to the Nintendo section in the back of the store. Ah, there it is. So much effort for such a simple thing. The limited edition Nintendo Switch sat on the top shelf, dust accumulated on the packaging due to neglect from the high price tag. There wasn’t much to distinguish it from the other consoles apart from it’s red controllers. He picked it up, examining the smooth packaging for chips that could set off alarms. Nothing. Perhaps the shop owners were just as desperate to be rid of it as Matt was to have it.

        Hisashi tucked the overpriced console under his right arm and returned from where he came. The Switch was delicately shoved through the window first, he went second, having to repeat the irritating process from moments earlier. He hastily headed towards the intersection, feeling his palms start to sweat. In his opinion, this part was the best. Adrenaline provided clarity that caffeine could never replace. His elbow slammed into the crosswalk button so hard that he winced. The seconds it took for the familiar monotone to ring out felt like hours. He hurried across the street, doing his best to look confident and self-assured. A niggle of anxiety churned in his gut. This was easy. Far too easy. He made it to the front of the car parts store. It was a hideous white and purple building wedged firmly into the street corner. He crept into the back alley behind the parking lot and leaned against the white brick wall, attempting to steady his heart rate.

        A few moments later, Matt’s head popped up over the wall opposite Hisashi, “You got the goods?” He absolutely did not jump and let out a yelp of surprise, and if any witnesses came forward to testify otherwise he’d be sure to dispatch them quickly. In the name of truth and integrity of course.

        “No, I thought I’d just hang out behind the ugliest building in LA for no reason,” He snarked, “Yes, I have the Switch.”

        Matt’s face lit up and he climbed into the alleyway, “Great! Just hand it over and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

        He passed over the console with a huff, glad to be rid of the clunky hindrance.

        “So,” Matt began, glancing around the alleyway conspiratorially, “word on the street is that the mob was doing some digging about your mom. A client of mine saw them breaking into the justice building to look through their records. Her name came up.”

        Hisashi raised an eyebrow at this. The mafia had grown in prominence since the start of the economic crisis. They often coordinated with local gangs and extorted businesses in exchange for protection from the chaos they were responsible for. Even Hisashi’s own group had to pay a small cut to operate in their territory. Overall, he thought it was an efficient system, it was much better than the turf wars that had riddled the city in the years before. Still, what the hell could they want with a random Japanese immigrant? Why would her records be in the courthouse?

        As if sensing his thoughts, Matt shrugged, “Don’t ask me, I know better than to get involved in their business. I like not being twelve leagues under the sea thank you a-very much.” He finished with a dramatic bow. Hisashi felt a tension headache forming. Unfortunately, Matt had always been like this. How the man hasn’t ended up in a shallow desert grave for being a pain in the ass was beyond him.

        “Okay,” he replied, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose again, “what do you know about my mother?”

        “That, buddy, is the question of the hour!” Hisashi must have been making some sort of face, because Matt laughed, “If you figure this out do tell me, I love a good story.”

        Silently, Hisashi vowed to himself to not be placed into a position where someone could withhold information and waste his time like this again. His lack of control over the situation was infuriating, and his hands itched for the feeling of cold steel. Hiding his right hand behind his back, he clenched his fist, careful not to draw blood. A smile curled on his face. Ringing in his ears that only seemed to grow louder with each aching, passing sec-

        Matt began shuffling down the alleyway, “Anyways, it’s rather late and I have other clients to attend to,” he glanced at Hisashi over his shoulder, batting his hand in the air like a kitten with yarn, “ya’ know how it is.”

        He was about to reply with a scathing remark when he felt his clunky burner phone buzz in his pocket. A frown. How on Earth did someone get this number? Sure, this used to be the main way he’d make deals, but he hasn’t made any in at least a year. He pulled out the metal brick of a device and flipped it open, eyes widening.

                                               Unknown Number

                                                       3:25am

[I need a favor.]

A/N: Hoo boy Hisashi is so long winded compared to his brother. I had something else in mind for this chapter but when I started writing his POV that went straight out the window. Obviously he's more immature than his canon-era counterpart, but that's because he's just a teenager and still needs to grow as a character. I was honestly dreading writing him, because his character is really hard to portray correctly, but I think I did okay. I have 4+ unrelated one-shots I'm working on on the side, I have no idea when those will be out but keep your eyes peeled. As usual, feel free to leave comments! It was actually a series of comments left by oneptxneo on AO3 that motivated me to get this chapter done (and finished early).

AO3

Next Chapter

#Genesis fic #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #my hero academy #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #afo #ofa #ofa first holder #dfo #dad for one #pre-canon #pre-quirks #origin story #fic #archive of our own #ao3 #original holder of one for all #all for one #one for all

[moodyoranged]

aubrey and esme <3

big spoon/little spoon:  usually esme i think but also i think it’s not like an intentional decision she just kind of gravitates to hanging off of aubrey loves to be close <3

favorite non-sexual activity:  they have like a nice little saturday routine i think.  they wake up and they make fancy breakfast and coffee with fun syrups.  then they drive out to the farmer’s market or something and listen to npr in the car together.  then they run whatever other little errands they have to do before getting lunch at their favorite little cafe.  then they go home and lay in their bed and read or nap or whatever feels Right.

who uses all the hot water:  esme.  she doesn’t even realize how hot her showers are she just likes them scalding.  if she felt the water aubrey used she’d be appalled because it’s like just Warm but to esme that’s simply Freezing.

most trivial thing they fight over:  they’re the couple that gets in their feelings if the other watches a show or listens to a podcast that they’ve been enjoying together without the other.  like oh i just thought we were watching this is us together that’s all i didn’t realize YOU were watching this is us and i’m just IN THE ROOM......

what has a season pass on their dvr/who controls the netflix queue:  aubrey,  but just because esme has a broader taste.  aubrey is more particular about what she watches and esme respects that by letting her make the call because her bar’s a little lower and she loves her wife so she won’t make her sit through married at first sight just because it’s her guilty pleasure.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working:  esme she probably is the kind of social where she has a rapport with their super already and can just slide it in next time they bump into each other in the hall.

who steals the blankets:  aubrey because i just get the impression that she runs cold and would unintentionally burrow in their blankets hard.  but it’s okay because that’s the exact situation esme ends up spooning here you steal the blankets you have to share body heat it’s just the rules.

who leaves their stuff around:  esme.  aubrey’s organized and knows that everything has it’s place so she just puts it there to have it done and have things looking nice.  and esme really believes in that in theory but it’s so much easier to leave her work tote on the table and her running shoes in the foyer and her sunglasses literally wherever she decides to take them off instead of going to the table to put them back in their case.  so she slips a little but she really tries because she knows aubrey likes it tidy.

who remembers to buy the milk:  aubrey.  esme would happily pick it up but she’s simply not the one remembering it.

who remembers anniversaries:  they both do <3 they both feel like adult journal writers or at least girlies who keep like detailed calendars/planners so they’re probably on top of knowing when big benchmarks happened and keeping them in mind for when the anniversaries roll around.

who cooks normally?:  aubrey.  esme loves to help when she can,  and offers to take over on weekends,  but esme’s work schedule usually has her missing prime dinner time,  rolling in just a little too late.  but aubrey’s also the better cook who loves it more so esme simply isn’t too distraught about it.

how often do they fight?:  not often.  i think they both hate fighting and we have some criers on our hands so it’s always a whole thing when they do fight that ends with them apologizing profusely and a big dramatic making up.  so i think they try and squash as many fights as they can before they really turn into fights just to avoid that.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?:  esme tried to get aubrey into snapchat with her but it just never stuck they’re better off doing something more straightforward like texting or just straight up calling

nicknames for each other?:  i think esme adores calling aubrey sweet little pet names.  she doesn’t really expect reciprocation because she does get extra with lots of little darling angel my love type things but i think she does live for the times here and there where aubrey will call her some little nickname.

what would they get each other for gifts?:  ohh sappy things.  i think they love going the thoughtful and handmade route (even if it isn’t always their hands making it).  jewelry,  candles,  little candies.  i feel like they’re kind of esty fiends for this kind of thing,  just keeping an eye for fun little personalized,  one-of-a-kind gifts because they just feel sweeter that way.  books are also always on the table,  and esme also loves to find fun little kitchen gadgets for aubrey.

who kissed who first?:  esme :relieved:

who made the first move?:  once again probably esme.  i think she’s just a lot more forward than esme not in an aggressive way but she just has the confidence to be like hey you’re cute and i’d like to get coffee <3

who remembers things?:  aubrey.  i just think she’s more detail oriented than esme,  and keeps track of more of the little things that happen in their lives.

who cusses more?:  esme.  she’s cut back in the few years before she met aubrey,  but she does let it slip every now and again,  and i just can’t see aubrey being a huge cusser at all.

#loveback #meme reply. #aubrey & esme.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 1x6 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

It’s been literal months since my last rewatch, and you guys were obviously not satisfied with my randomly dug-up first impression of the show that I posted a couple of days ago to make up for the lack of reviews, so here I am with another one. Today we’re delving into the penultimate episode of the first season. I have completely forgotten what to expect, so this will be almost like a first time watching. Here we go:

Oh, that’s right. I remember now. This is one of the parts that I loved most from the original book, and it’s a really important moment in the show as well, one of the parts that were satisfyingly closely adapted. It’s the time when Minnie May is ill and Anne is the only one who can help. A very dramatic scene, and a crucial one for DiAnne’s friendship after they were forbidden to fraternise in the previous episode. 

Wait, Aunt Josephine was there? This is the situation in which she appears first? I had forgotten and I honestly thought it would have been something different. Apparently I’ve forgotten that at first she didn’t act like the cool old lady we’ve since come to love.

I’ve always thought it was incredibly impressive how Anne immediately knew what was happening to Minnie May from just a vague description of the symptoms. Her difficult childhood experience comes in handy sometimes, I guess. That’s at least a slight silver lining to it. 

I love how fiery, passionate Anne transforms into a sound, sane, level-headed nurse when Minnie May needs to be taken care of. It just popped into my mind - does Gilbert know about this? And how come it was never brought up in later seasons?

In my commentaries on the third season, I've said more than once that Minnie May was like God - she often fixed whatever trouble and misunderstandings the older characters would get in. Now I see she’s doing it again, in a way - her illness and Anne helping her get over it is what convinced Diana’s parents that Anne is a very good person and a suitable friend for their daughter after all. I wonder where everyone would have been without this little one. 

“It’s a big world, son.” It is indeed, and Gilbert will see at least some of it - but at what cost, really, at what cost? Having never lost a parent, nor a loved one of another kind, I can’t possibly imagine the pain this boy would go through later in the series. Now, seeing John Blythe on his deathbed breaks my heart. 

It’s amazing how much some people need to forgive. Accidentally get her daughter drunk, and you’re the devil. Save her other daughter’s life, and you’re suddenly a saint. I was never a big fan of Eliza Barry, and, well, this case is not helping. I mean, it took so much for her to forgive Anne’s minor innocent mistake. I can’t help but wonder - how much would Jerry have had to do to get her approval, had things not turned out the way they did (I’m referring to both his eventual falling out with Diana and the unjust cancellation of the series here #renewannewithane)? How many favours would he have to do her family before she would have been able to forget his origin? I guess we’ll never find out now. Unless... #renewannewithane

Anne seemingly equating herself and Diana to Josephine and her “companion” makes me suddenly see why people ship them romantically, although I personally don’t. I mean, neither Anne nor Diana knew at the time what exactly Josephine’s relationship with her partner was like, but still, for me as a second-time viewer, the subtext is certainly there. 

Diana’s prospective future as the wife of some “wealthy, handsome gentleman” could very well have been foreshadowing to her eventual marriage to Fred Wright in the books, but it is a bit of an ironic statement in the series where she first went for Jerry, who, to quote Aunt Jo from earlier, is “one, but not the other”. But I’m getting carried away here. 

Listen, I dislike Mr. Philips as much as the next person, but he’s sort of (unwittingly?) acting as a matchmaker for Anne and Gilbert, like teachers sometimes do. By making none other than Anne go give him his school materials every day, he is making them interact even when Anne might otherwise have chosen not to. So that is one good thing he’s ever done. I’m keeping score from now on. 

Anne’s sudden realisation that when Gilbert comes back to school, he will likely be an orphan, reminds me of her reaction later when it happened. And it’s not so much later either. Having been an orphan all her life, she seems not to realise quite how much he’s going through. Gilbert has been forced to become an adult all of a sudden by his father’s death, but Anne still has a lot of growing up to do.

John Blythe’s funeral is an odd contrast to Mary’s Easter which would come later - both are people Gilbert loves dearly, both deaths make him grow as a person, both die of an illness - but while his father’s funeral and the days before it are gloomy, dark and achromatic, Mary goes with a smile on her face, surrounded by her big family, in the middle of a colourful festivity. I don’t know why I’m commenting on this right now, I just suddenly became aware of the parallel and simply had to point it out. 

The snowflake that thaws on Gilbert’s palm and slowly rolls down reminded me of a tear - a tear that didn’t roll from his eyes. It might as well have been meant to symbolise that precisely. If that’s the case, job well done.

The blue ribbon that Anne wears now - John Blythe gave it to Marilla... I wonder if Anne was ever made fully aware of what exactly went on between her adoptive mother and Gilbert’s father when they were young. I mean off-screen, of course. 

Much better off than you were? I don’t think so, Anne. I mean, of course she might be right to a degree, but right now Gilbert’s pain is something she can’t comprehend. She shouldn’t try to. She shouldn’t assume she does. Being an orphan is not something to pass on “extensive knowledge” about. It’s an experience that everyone goes through differently. Saying Gilbert is lucky was definitely not the right thing to do. Not right now at least. But I should stop saying how I think Anne should have reacted, or I might come off as hypocritical. I’ve never experienced what either of them has, after all. Moving on.

It seems Aunt Jo has become the cool old lady we know and love. Her conversation with Anne in the clubhouse reminds me so much of the one they had at the end of season 3. I think that one was, in a way, meant to parallel this one. Of course, I’m not going to try and reinvent the wheel here, I just think it’s beautiful how subtle this show is when it comes to foreshadowing and callbacks, even to a viewer who goes into it having read the books first. I’m glad I get to rediscover this now when I’m rewatching it, and my reactions get to be a mix of re-encountering forgotten details, judging earlier episodes with regard to what happens in later ones, and just overall basking in the magic of AWAE once again. 

Anne wanting to be a bride but not a wife is so novel yet so relatable all at once. I mean, don’t get me wrong - I don’t want to be a wife, nor a bride myself, but I can definitely see why a girl, especially in Anne’s time, but even today as well, would want to walk down the aisle wearing a white dress without being burdened with the conservative version of a wife’s duty. 

Anne’s first encounter with Aunt Jo happens in such a different way from the book, but it’s even better, the way I see it. 

Anne is so unapologetically feminist and I’m all in for it. This character is so important even today, and it was so horrific to see her story cut short over trivial issues. #renewannewithane

As both Anne and Ruby are rambling away and Diana is trying her best to say the proper things, I figure Gilbert must think, at least for a moment, about how weird and incomprehensible girls are. And with Anne’s especially apropos mention of the word “wife”... I can just see his eyebrows doing the confusion dance - you know, despite the pain he must be in. 

I just love how Gilbert never even remotely hides his great respect and admiration of Anne. And even though there are underlying feelings of a different kind here, I’m quite sure he would respect and admire just as much any other intelligent, independent young woman deserving of it. Meanwhile, Billy has shown that he’s just a misogynist of the worst kind, no matter if the girl is an “ugly” orphan or a conventionally attractive girl with both parents alive and a substantial wealth. I don’t mean to deem anyone incorrigibly bad, but I do think Billy might as well be. 

What about “Gilbert’s father just died and you’re still acting like the petty little misogynist you are” doesn’t Billy get? I know what Gilbert did was sinking to his level, but I believe he deserved every bit of it. 

I wonder - I might have forgotten - if Gilbert knew before this conversation with Marilla, about the kind of relationship she and his father had. I wonder how much of it he found out from this conversation.

Ah, here we go, the Shirbert written communication begins. And it doesn’t begin very smoothly - as if to foreshadow how many bumps on the road its future holds. 

See, Josephine would have liked very much to be married to Gertrude - only the times she lives in wouldn’t allow it. She is of the marrying kind - just not of the conventional wife kind. And that’s beautiful, and exactly what Anne aspires to be - and will be one day, of course. She has done a good, nay, brilliant job choosing a role model.

To sum up this episode: Minnie May’s illness brings DiAnne back together; Aunt Jo’s first appearance is a meaningful one, as expected; John Blythe’s last days and the aftermath of his death; an important detail of Marilla’s past; thoughts on what it is to be a wife; Shirbert’s written communication begins, very clumsily, of course. 

#anne with an e #awae #renew anne with an e #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #diana barry #jerry baynard #ruby gillis #billy andrews #minnie may barry #josephine barry #marilla cuthbert #matthew cuthbert #john blythe #jnk watches awae

[p5youllneverseeitcoming]

So I finished Persona 5 Royal

And once again I was a crying mess when the ending credits rolled.

Now, I’d like to share my thoughts about this game but I also respect the fact that not everyone had the chance to finish it yet so anything that is a spoiler will be talked about under the cut.

Anyways, let’s begin.

From the very beginning... I love the new title screen, the fact that you can see each member just hanging out in the streets of Tokyo is so cute and I love it. It’s so easy to get a platinum trophy for Persona 5 Royal which at first I thought was somewhat disappointing as it doesn’t require you to play through it again but then I found out there’s a bunch of challenges in the Thieves Den so I was really glad I had a reason to play it again.

Speaking of the Thieves Den, it’s really nice to see your team members just chat about the decorations you put in there, like for example Yusuke and Ann casually chatting in front of a Reaper statue like it’s no big deal. On a small sidenote, my mum really likes the fact that you can play Tycoon in the Thieves Den and I’m not gonna lie she spent hours playing with them which means I now have thousands of tokens but nothing to spend them on :’)

Much of P5R is very similar to the vanilla P5 except of course the fact that there’s 2 new characters being introduced to the story. You still get sent to Tokyo for ‘assaulting’ the drunk man however, the first change that you really notice is Sojiro’s conversation with you when he is taking you home on the Sunday you visit the school. Of course, by this point you know that there have been many psychotic breakdowns and a lot of accidents but what Sojiro tells you is... Interesting to say the least. I didn’t think of it much at first but then again I went into Royal completely spoiler free (except of course with the knowledge of how Persona 5 plays out) but eventually you find out that what he said was actually really important.

Another thing I really loved that they put in Royal is the fact that they managed to make the battle system even better. I always thought it was pretty amazing but they somehow managed to make it even better. First off, you can Baton Pass right off the bat. No need to establish a social link with the party members or anything, which honestly makes everything so much easier, especially in the early game. They also decided, you know what this nasty crime boy needs? Unlimited bullets... Well sorta. Remember how in Persona 5 you only had a limited amount of bullets per infiltration? Well, now they replenish every battle which of course means I did the only rational thing:

You also get the grappling hook in Royal and honestly? Just watching Joker do flips all over the place is really aesthetically pleasing. I love that they reworked the Palaces so that the grappling hook plays a big part in getting around and as I said, it’s just so fun to see Joker zooming through the air.

They added new Shadows/Personas to Royal which I think is fantastic as it makes returning players not bored of the battles but they also changed some weaknesses/removed weaknesses for some shadows which means you gotta strategise a little bit more. They also changed up the Palace Ruler Bosses but I found them... A lot more easier than the original? I don’t know if it’s due to the fact that I love to grind a lot before finishing a Palace or if I just had the perfect Personas for the occasion but yeah... That’s not to say the changes are bad! I still really liked them but it was just... Really easy for me lol. 

Another major change is the fact that Morgana decided that you may be a tired boi after going to the Metaverse but you still have enough energy to do some things in the cafe. That makes it like a ton easier to max out your social stats which means you can max out your confidants a lot faster, I managed to max out everyone and still had days where I literally had nothing to do which just shows how much time you actually save now.

Along with the fact that they fixed some translation errors, they also improved the sprites and added a lot more voice lines which was really nice in my opinion, it was a lot better when a character was expressing a certain emotion and their sprite actually matched it instead of just them facing one way and occasionally changing the facial expression.

I’ll mention this briefly seeing as this is sort of spoilery but I really loved the new confidants. The fact that you can actually hang out with Akechi and get to know him instead of being forced to level him up automatically was so good. The scenes where you would automatically rank up are still there but they kinda act as a filler of sorts now which in all honesty I didn’t mind. 

Ummm... That’s about all I can think of that doesn’t contain spoilers so... The section below will have spoilers so please only read this when you finish the game!

I’m going to talk about Akechi’s Confidant for a bit because I just really loved it okay? You learn so much about him, even things that seem trivial like the fact that he’s left handed become... Well rather important near the end. The more time you spend with him, the more you see how much Akira actually means to him. When you defeat him in his Rank 8 event, I actually loved it when he said he hated Akira. That was pure Akechi right there, no lies, no fake smiles just pure, honest truth. Also, I love how he decided to be extra and dramatic by throwing his glove as a challenge. It’s also really significant, at least to me, mainly because you never see him without gloves, in a way, this sort of showed that he fully exposed his true self to Akira. Their exchange in Shido’s Palace when you remind him that you still have his glove... That was really sad. I really wish there was some way you could help him, but alas, you can’t always have happy endings.

I’m not gonna lie, I was really confused when I got to 12/24 and we still went to Mementos. You discover a Palace and explore it for a bit but then it’s kind of... Forgotten? Like Morgana is genuinely like: Lmao this doesn’t concern us atm so you know, killed God with the power of friendship, was ready to stop being a Phantom Thief and surrender myself to the police but then... Mr. Sketchy himself just appears out of nowhere and decides that he’ll take Akira’s place for him

When I first saw him I was like: Omg? How is this even possible? Can I hug him? But then weird things started happening in the story

Reality becomes distorted after New Years and you see that right away when your cat, is no longer a cat. But that’s not all, Futaba’s mother is alive and well as well as Haru’s father and supposedly they were never dead in the first place. I was really confused but then guess who turns up to clear some things up... Mr. Pankechi.

This post is already long as hecc so I won’t go into details but I really like the new Palace. It’s so different to the other Palaces and for once the Palace Ruler is not some evil adult... He’s actually quite the opposite.

I’m going to quickly talk about Kasumi for a second now, or rather Sumire. Honestly when you learn the truth, I was really shocked. Remember when I said what Sojiro tells you becomes important near the end? Yeah well it’s like the game was telling you from the start that she’s not really who she says she is. Just like Akechi, I was fully convinced that the New Palace was hers but I was kind of relieved to find out that wasn’t the case. As a party member, I really like her, she’s really cute and her Persona abilities are helpful in the new Palace. As a confidant... Again, she’s just so cute. When you help her pick out the glasses for her dad... Bruh I just wanted to give her headpats all day. Once you unlock the rest of her confidant, it’s really nice to see her grow and accept the fact that she doesn’t have to be Kasumi appreciated, and once she accepts that she’s Sumire but she’ll still do everything to make Kasumi’s dream come true it was honestly so satisfying. 

I think the thing I loved the most though is the fact that Akechi becomes your navigator for a little while and honestly? I wish I had the option to keep him as the navigator. His lines are so funny because they’re helpful but at the same time they’re so passive aggressive! ALSO his Showtime with Joker is by far my favourite Showtime. I love how he’s able to just be himself and literally rip enemies apart and Joker’s just there like: Yeah I’ll play along why not. Whenever they finish and Akechi is just there like: “Don’t waste my time.” ... Big mood, me when I’m driving around Mementos trying to find the stamps.

One more thing I gotta talk about... The ending. I love it so much. I think it’s a lot better than the original Persona 5 ending and here’s why. First of all, the fact that you see the Thieves still being themselves is just so sweet I love these funky kids, that fact that Maruki gives you a lift to the station and he accepts that this is the world that you have to live in? Amazing, thank you Atlus. The fact that Morgana is just snoozing in your bag? Beautiful, let me pet my cat plz. But most importantly... The edgy pancake loving detective LIVES, granted Akira doesn’t actually see him but I DID. I burst into tears when I saw him walk by, I’m so glad he got to live in a reality where he isn’t anyone’s puppet anymore. He can finally fix the mistakes he did, don’t get me wrong, Akechi is still a bad person, I mean he literally killed people but he still deserved a second chance, and seeing him alive means that he finally has a chance to do that... Bruh I was crying so much.

Anyway, I could talk about this game for hours but here are just some of my thoughts that I wanted to share, I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say later on but for now... Have this mess I call a post!

#p5r #p5 #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5r spoilers #persona 5 spoilers

[theultimatesandwich]

Sanders Sides/Witcher AU

Thank you @jgvfhl for this amazing prompt that I might have spent too much time on, but WHATEVER!!! I don’t need sleep.....but seriously this is an incredible idea I never would’ve thought of, and my god this was so fun to write. Sorry this took so long. Actually, sorry this took so long that in my putting this off we all learned Deceit’s real name....yikes...anywhoo, enjoy!

Background: Janus is part of a mutant human race of monster hunters known as “Witcher’s”, which doesn’t always give him the best reputation. Roman is a somewhat-failure of a bard who only finds success once he follows Janus on a mission and creates a song out of their experience, giving both him and Jan a reputation-booster. Virgil is an ageless, powerful witch, but he still has high aspirations, which may land him in a bit of trouble.

Tw: sympathetic deceit/Janus, swearing, mentions of violence and death and Remus, adult-ish things(think PG-13 ish)

Janus sat by the banks of the river, yet again drawing in his fishing net. Checking it, he sighed and threw it back into the water. He still hadn’t found what he was looking for. Maybe...no, he was sure that it was this river.  While he waited, he walked over towards his horse. 

“What do you think, Roach? Are we in the right spot?” Janus stroked his horse’s mane. “It’s gotta be here...it has to be...”

A sound in the trees behind him caused Janus to stop and draw his sword. He stood, ready for any threat. Unfortunately, he couldn’t anticipate the horror that was approaching.

“Jan? Is that you?”

Janus sighed, for it was none other than that bard, Roman. How he was able to keep finding the Witcher, Janus had no idea, yet here he was. And as usual, he wasn’t going to shut up anytime soon.

“Gods, how long has it been?” Roman asked. “Months? Years? Ah, it doesn’t really matter. I was just nearby, and I heard you were in town, and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve seen my friend.’ We are friends, Jan, as much as you might deny it.”

Janus rolled his eyes and went back to his net, trying hard to find what he was looking for, and trying even harder to ignore the endless dribble coming from Roman’s mouth.

“I’m just saying, a letter every once and a while wouldn’t kill you, Janus. Maybe “toss a coin” to the person who helped with your reputation? Would that be so hard?” Roman fell dramatically on the ground beside the Witcher. “I’m serious, you would not believe the past few days I’ve had.”

“Hmm,” said Jan, walking away from Roman to try his hand looking upstream.

“Well, if you must know,” Roman said, following Janus, “the remarkable Count de Stael has rejected my affections. One moment, there we were, having the most magical of times together. The next moment, he leaves me in the dust. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

“Hm.”

“I’ve been on the road, with barely any food. If only there was a good friend nearby willing to share his fish?” Roman batted his eyes towards Jan, then glanced around. “Or, someone who would share his fish if he were able to catch any. Do you seriously need fishing tips, because that’s what this looks like.”

“I’m not looking for fish.” Janus muttered.

“Oh.” Roman glanced around, surprised. “Well, what are you looking for, with a fishing net, in a river, where fish usually swim.”

Jan scowled. “A djinn.”

“Like a genie? What would you want a genie for? I mean it would be pretty cool to have some wishes, not going to lie, but I don’t see why you of all people would need —“

“I CAN’T FUCKING SLEEP!”

Roman gaped at his friend as Janus’s eyes suddenly glowed bright yellow.

“Ah, I see,” Roman thought aloud. “Understandable...but! Did you happen to think that maybe this insomnia you’ve been having is not the root of the problem? Would it be better to instead attack whatever’s causing...this?” Roman gestured at Janus, who had turned back towards the river. “I’m just saying, you need to calm down a little, take a load off, stop and smell the roses, et cetera. You know, the Count de Stael once said to me—“

“Did you sing to him before he left you?”

“Dodging the topic a bit, but yes, as a matter of fact...” Roman paused, glaring at Janus. “What are you implying?”

Janus didn’t answer, and tried again to use his net.

“No, no, no, no genie searching right now.” Roman got close to Janus, leaning towards him. “Tell me honestly, Jan: how’s my singing?”

Without looking up, Janus replied, “It’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling.”

Roman gave a large gasp, sounding offended. He paced for a second, sputtering, trying to speak but couldn’t find the words he was looking for. 

“You!” He angrily pointed at Janus. “Need a nap!”

Roman went on lecturing about trivial things such as “manners” and “friendship”, but Jan wasn’t paying attention. His net had finally caught something. 

“And another thing! Wait, what’s that?” Roman looked over Jan’s shoulder.

Janus held up the small clay pot, taking notice of the magical seal on the lid. 

“It’s the Djinn,” Janus said. Before he could do anything, however, Roman tried to grab the pot away from him. 

“Roman,” Janus warned. “Let go.”

“Not until you take back what you said about my singing!”

“Roman, don’t be an idiot!”

“Says the one with no musical taste!”

The pair bickered, fighting over the pot. They both pulled and tugged, until the lid popped off, falling into Janus’s hand. 

Jan glanced down at the seal in his hand. “Roman...”

“See, Janus! This is Destiny’s work, I tell you.” Roman looked triumphantly towards the sky. “Dear Djinn, I have freed you, and am now your master!”

Janus glanced around, on edge. The wind was starting to pick up as the sky clouded over, growing dark and ominous. 

“For my first wish,” Roman continued, obliviously, “may my brother, Duke Remus, be struck down with a case of the plague and die a horrible death. Secondly, I wish that the Count de Stael welcome me back with open arms, and preferably very little clothing. And for my third wish--”

“Will you shut up?!” Janus barked. “Roman, you don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Of course I know what I’m doing.” Roman said. “I’m...I’m...” Roman paused, grabbing at his throat. “Jan...can’t...breathe...”

Roman fell to his knees, his throat beginning to swell up. The winds continued to blow heavily as Janus grabbed Roman, got on his horse, and rode off to find help.

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

After some travel to the local healers, Janus learned of a nearby witch who could help cure Roman’s stupidity. Well, at the very least cure the swelling. He was pretty sure there was no cure for Roman’s lack of common sense. Following the given directions, eventually the pair arrived at a stone tower. Janus helped Roman off of the horse. The local healers had stopped the spread of the swelling for the time being, but Roman was still very sick. 

The pair made their way inside. 

“Janus,” Roman whispered. “Am I...gonna die?”

“Uh..no.” He gave a small pat on Roman’s shoulder. “You’ve, um, got this.”

Making their way through the hall, Janus called out for help. 

“Is there a witch here? We need her help!” 

“What gave you the impression that all witches were female?” A voice behind them perked up. 

Janus dropped Roman, gently, of course, and spun to face his new opponent. In front of him was a handsome young man, no more than 25, with dark brown hair, a fit body, and perfect, clear skin. But it was the eyes that caught Jan’s attention. Bright purple, almost glowing, they appeared to stare straight through Janus, taking in everything about him. 

“My apologies,” Janus said. “We were desperate; we didn’t know.” He gestured towards Roman. “He messed with something more powerful than he should’ve. We were told you were the only one who could help, but nothing else.”

“Well,” the man said, leaning down to inspect Roman. “I can definitely help, but you’ll need to tell me what it was that he was messing with. That and the matter of payment, but we can talk about that later.” He smirked towards Janus. “Isn’t that right, Witcher?”

Janus stared coldly towards the man. “A djinn,” he said. 

The purple eyed man paused, clearly taken aback. “A djinn, you say?” Jan nodded. 

The man stood up, brushing his clothes off, and extended a hand towards Janus. “Virgil of Vengerberg, at your service.”

Janus shook Virgil’s hand. “Janus of Rivia. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Virgil smirked. “Very perceptive, Witcher. Well, I’ll take care of your friend, then you and I can talk for a bit. Consider it payment for helping your friend.”

“He’s not my...” Janus stared at Roman, who was glaring at him. “I mean, thank you.”

Virgil took Roman and, with Janus’s help, carried him upstairs into a spare bedroom. Janus left the room and headed to a table downstairs. After some time, Virgil came down to join him. 

“Your friend will live,” Virgil said, seeing Janus’s expression. “He just needs to rest. He must have a knack for annoying monsters.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“So, Witcher,” Virgil said, sitting down near Janus. “How did someone like you find someone like that?”

“It wasn’t by choice. He has a habit of following me into dangerous situations, regardless of being told to stay back.”

“Interesting. And how did he happen to piss off a djinn, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“How did you get to be a powerful witch, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Virgil held up his hands. “Fair enough,” he said. After a moment, he spoke up. “I came from a place of very little influence. But through some training...” Virgil grabbed a flower from a vase on the table and concentrated. The flower began to wilt, and then the vase lifted gently from the table. “...I came into my power.”

“That’s an interesting parlor trick.”

“Well, I’m glad you approve. Now,” Virgil leaned in towards Janus. “I answered one of your questions, you answer one of mine. How did the idiot find a djinn?”

Jan sighed. It was only fair. “By the river. He stole it from me.” 

“Interesting.” Virgil stared at Janus, his purple eyes meeting yellow. “Well, I should check up on him.” Virgil stood up and began to leave the table, but glanced back towards Janus one last time. “Be careful not to stray too far,” he said, a smirk playing on his face. 

“What’s that supposed to mea--”

Janus’s words were cut short as he felt his body being pulled from it’s spot. His mind clouded. He couldn’t focus. When he finally came to, he was locked in an unfamiliar jail cell. 

“Bailiff!” He called once he got his senses back. “Why am I here? What happened?”

The officer scoffed. “Really, Witcher? You go on a killing spree for that witch up the hill and you ask why you’re sitting here?” 

Deceit slid down the wall. “Fuck.” 

“It’d take a miracle to get out of here,” he thought. “Gods, I wish I wasn’t stuck in this cell.”

Suddenly Janus felt a pain in his arm as his handcuffs came undone, the cell door opening in front of him. The confusion didn’t last long, as Janus quickly wished that he was back at the witch’s tower. He felt another pain in his arm, and he felt the same body pulling sensation, only this time his mind felt clear. The next thing he knew, there he was in front of Virgil’s tower, with two tally marks on his arm. 

“The djinn,” Jan thought. “It didn’t bind itself to Roman, it bound itself to...” He thought about Virgil’s reaction to hearing about the djinn, about how Virgil was so adamant at keeping Janus away once he knew about his involvement.

“He wants the wishes for himself, but Roman doesn’t have them.”

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

Roman came to in a beautiful bedroom, very healthy and very alive. He could almost pretend that everything that had happened was some kind of twisted nightmare. Almost. Hunched at the foot of the bed was a cloaked figure, their back to Roman. Across the floor were spell-books, jars, and components that Roman would rather not think about. 

“Um, excuse me, very creepy witch?”

The cloaked figure stood up and faced Roman, his purple eyes glowing fiercely. 

“Ok, extremely creepy, very attractive witch, who looks like he’s about to commit a crime that I don’t want to bear witness to.” Roman stumbled out of the bed, wanting to put some distance between himself and the stranger.

“What’s the rush for?” Virgil asked. 

“Oh, yes, well.” Roman fumbled for words, trying to make his way towards the door. “I believe I left my...cat on the...stove. Yes. That’s right. So you see, I really must be going.”

As he tried to leave, Virgil grabbed Roman’s arm, forcing him against a wall. 

“Look,” Roman smiled nervously. “You seem like a very charming, reasonable, not-at-all insane person, so how about we talk this through like sensible people, ok? Or a song? I’m a great singer, you known, even Janus says so. JANUS?!?!”

“He’s not here, idiot.”

“Hey, only he can call me an idiot! And what do you mean he’s not here?”

“You’re missing the point!” Virgil’s eyes flashed purple, more intensely than last time. “I need it!” 

“Honey, you need a lot of things, therapy being one of them.”

“The djinn! Make your last wish; give me control of the djinn!”

“You know you could’ve led with that!” Roman yelped. “Almighty djinn, I forgo my last wish and give up all of my power over you to this witch right here.”

As informal as it was, Virgil felt that it was good enough, and began the preparations to harness the djinn’s energy.

“Okayyy...” Roman glanced around. “I’m just going to, you know, leave and never come back. Goodbye forever!” And with that, Roman sprinted out of the tower as fast as he could.

As he finally made his way outside, Roman ran into none other than the Witcher, himself.

“Roman.” Janus couldn’t help but crack a small, relieved smile. “You’re all right.”

“Indeed I am! Now, I would love to catch up with you and all of your escapades, but we need to go. Far away. From here. Right now.”

No sooner had Roman spoken than the wind began to whip around faster. The skies clouded over in a familiar darkening manner, and a nearby rumble of thunder could be heard.

“He doesn’t know what he’s messing with. I have to help him,” Janus said.

Roman stared, dumbfounded. “Um, no. No you don’t. You could just walk away and pretend you were never here.”

“He saved your life, Roman. I can’t let him die.”

“You could die, too! Leave the very attractive, incredibly scary witch, to his inevitable demise! I don’t care if he saved me; cut your losses now before it’s too late!”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Roman tried to form an objection, but defeatedly closed his mouth instead. “I know. That’s why you’re Janus of Rivia. Go on, go be a hero.”

Janus drew his sword and entered the tower, making his way upstairs to the bedroom. The storm outside shook the windows, and the force of the wind could now be felt through the hallways. 

As he forced open the bedroom door, Janus was met with a disaster. The wind whipped through the room, scattering broken jars and dust across overturned furniture. Lying in the middle of the wreckage, his face in a state of concentration and pain, was Virgil. 

“Virgil!” Janus shouted. “Stop!”

Hearing Janus’s shouts, Virgil looked up towards the Witcher. Now anger joined the mixture of emotions on his face. “What are you doing here?! You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Roman didn’t have the wishes!” As Janus showed the tally marks on his arm a flicker of worry passed across Virgil’s face, but in the next instant it was gone. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore!” Virgil screamed over the brewing storm outside. “You’ve brought it here with you, right? Give me its power!” 

“Just tell me what you want; I can help you!” 

“Fuck off! I don’t need your help!” 

A bolt of lightning struck the ground outside, and the resounding thunder shook the walls of the tower. Cracks began to form in the ceiling, and the wind finally blew out the windows of the room. 

“You’re going to die!” Janus shouted. “Tell me what you want!”

“I want everything!” Virgil’s eyes glowed bright purple, his face a mask of anger and bitterness. “I need to be stronger! I need the djinn’s power!” 

Another bolt of lightning struck outside, and the tower shook once more. Janus felt the building shake and groan, and the ceiling began to cave in around them. 

In that moment, time seemed to slow down. Janus closed his eyes, and gave a faint whisper. As he spoke, he felt a third familiar pain in his arm, and the storm outside began to lessen. 

The tower collapsed around the pair, but remarkably Janus and Virgil remained unharmed. As the dust settled, Janus extended a hand towards the witch. Virgil glanced up at Janus, a questioning look on his face, but refused the aid. 

“I don’t need your help,” Virgil began, standing up. “But I appreciate what you just did.”

“I don’t know if I should consider you strong or incredibly foolish,” Janus said. 

“The same could be said of you, Witcher.” 

The pair held each other’s gaze for a moment, a mutual respect forming between them. 

“I have to go,” Janus said at last, breaking the silence. “The bard’s probably worried.”

“I’m sure he is,” Virgil responded, still staring at the Witcher. 

As Janus turned to leave, Virgil called out to him. 

“I wouldn’t be too upset. I’m sure our paths will cross again soon...Janus.”

And with that, the two of them finally separated. 

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

Once Janus had found a way out of the ruins of the tower, he was surprised to see Roman crying with Roach. 

“I told him, didn’t I?” Roman wailed. “I told him, I said if you go in there, you’re going to...and now he’s...what are we going to do now, Roach? Without him, I mean you could probably have a good life, you’re a horse! But me? Gods, they could cut out my tongue, or destroy my lute, or worse! Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear his voice again?”

“Roman,” Janus finally spoke up as he approached. 

“Yeah, like that! Exactly like that.”

“Roman,” Janus said, a little more exasperated.

“Wow, Roach, you do a really good Janus impression.”

Janus sighed, tapping Roman on the shoulder, causing him to yelp and jump five feet in the air. 

“Holy mother of-- you aren’t dead!”

“No, I’m not dead.”

“Is the, um, you know...”

“He’s not dead either, Roman.”

“Nice.” Roman nodded his head. “Very nice.”

“So!” Roman clapped his hands together. “Where are we off to now? What spirit of adventure is calling us towards the horizon?”

“I was thinking we get a drink.” 

“Now, that I can get behind.”

And with that, Janus and Roman made their way off from the ruins of Virgil’s tower, not knowing where destiny would guide them, nor when all of their paths would cross again. 

#sanders sides #the witcher #my writing #sanders sides au #prompted writing #oh gods it's finally done #3k words #10 pages #it wasn't supposed to be this long #oh well

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 43

I get the argument I’ve been waiting for, and Egwene wins (in absentia) the battle she’s preparing for

Chapter 43: Sealed to the Flame

Egwene sat quietly in her tent, hands in her lap. She controlled her shock, her burning anger and her incredulity.

YES. THANK YOU. This is precisely the reaction I was hoping for and I’m so very glad we’re continuing almost exactly where we left off, because I want to watch this.

Now let just a little of that control go and break up with Gawyn, please.

Egwene had allowed no attendants besides Chesa this morning. She had even turned away Siuan, who had undoubtedly come to offer some kind of apology.

Less dramatic than throwing an inkwell at her, but really I’m just here for the ‘Egwene being furious at being “rescued” against her will’ and will be content with more or less any form it takes.

Egwene needed time to think, to prepare, to deal with her failure. And it was a failure. Yes, it had been forced on her by others, but those others were her followers and friends.

Ah, Egwene. This was not your fault. You did everything you could.

And as I was typing that it occurred to me…this is right after the chapter where Rand absolves himself of responsibility for what is happening in Arad Doman, tells himself he’s done everything he can and there’s nothing else he can do, and walks away. And so of course we immediately get Egwene doing almost the opposite. Taking a situation where she really has done just about everything she could, and still looking at it critically for places where she could have done better.

She was carried away via gateway, just like Rand, but unlike Rand she looks back.

Perhaps she had been too secretive. It was a danger—secrecy.

3.5 MILLION WORDS BUT WE FINALLY GOT THERE.

Okay, fine, other characters have occasionally expressed similar sentiments. Still. For the effective Amyrlin Seat of all people to even consider that there are dangers to secrecy, that secrecy could be a failure is…quite something. Round of applause for Egwene.

Egwene ran her fingers along the smooth, tightly woven pouch she wore tied to her belt. Inside was a long, thin item, retrieved secretly from the White Tower earlier in the morning.

Vora’s sa’angreal? Or…the Oath Rod? And by ‘earlier in the morning’ does she mean she went back into the Tower? I suppose the game is kind of up at this point in terms of her being a captive of any sort, so she could in theory come and go as she pleases…

Yes, Egwene had made mistakes. She could not lay all the blame on Siuan, Bryne, and Gawyn.

It’s fine; if you don’t, I will. Egwene’s probably in the right here but do I care? Not particularly. (Oh wait, that was Gawyn’s mistake. Damn it, now I’m conflicted. FINE, Egwene, be the voice of reason).

She had likely made other mistakes as well; she would need to look at her own action sin more detail later.

I like this, because it’s honest self-criticism and self-examination without self-loathing or self-flagellation. (‘Self’ no longer looks like a word). It’s a more difficult balance than it seems, sometimes, and this is such a calmly rational example. She has made mistakes, and she can accept that and know that she needs to learn from them, without dwelling needlessly on them and berating herself for them. She can’t change what has happened, after all, but she can try to learn from it and do better next time. What a weirdly healthy and productive way of dealing with things!

She’d been pulled from the White Tower on the brink of success. What was to be done?

That’s a difficult question, especially given the huge blind spot she has in terms of: what is happening in the Tower right now? Also, how close to success was she? Narratively speaking, it feels like she was PRETTY DAMN CLOSE, and also there was that whole paragraph of ‘surprise! Elaida’s out of the picture’ but Egwene doesn’t even know that. So will those in the Tower decide that she is Amyrlin in truth, or will they look for another solution? And what can she do to push that the right way, without fucking everything up completely? It’s such a fine balance, and there are so many unknowns, and anything she does risks disaster.

So, no pressure or anything, Egwene.

So she remained seated, arms on the hand rests, wearing a fine silken gown of green with yellow patterns on the bodice.

Green and Yellow, for battle and healing. Battle or healing? Either way, both represent the conflict with the Tower right now.

Yeah, she definitely can’t just go back and resume her old role—she knows full well that only worked because they thought she was actually a captive. And in a way, the realisation that she wasn’t, that she could have left anytime she wanted and spared herself all that pain, might be another thing for those still in the Tower to think over. How many would willingly subject themselves to that, all for the sake of the Tower? It could certainly add to her…legend, I suppose. Or it could undermine her. It just depends on who’s looking at it and how they want to spin things. So many unknowns…

She was realising more and more that being the Amyrlin wasn’t different. Life was a tempest, whether you were a milkmaid or a queen. The queens were simply better at projecting control in the middle of that storm. If Egwene looked like a statue unaffected by the winds, it was actually because she saw how to bend with those winds. That gave the illusion of control. No. It was not just an illusion.

Surrender to control. Accept that she is as subject to the whims of the Pattern as anyone, and instead of fighting that, use it. Power is an illusion of perception, so creat the image of control, of power, of calm, and you’re halfway there.

It’s not the first time she’s had to think along these lines, but it feels like a…closing bookend, in a sense, where the opening one was Moiraine telling her ‘because I remembered how to control saidar’ and Egwene being faced with that notion, and what it truly means, for the first time.

She had to be as logical as a White, as thoughtful as a Brown, as passionate as a Blue, as decisive as a Green, as merciful as a Yellow, as diplomatic as a Grey. And yes, as vengeful as a Red, when necessary.

Of all Ajahs and of none, in truth. It’s what the Tower as a whole needs to be; the Ajahs must work together to make the Tower an entity unto itself, rather than a collection of disparate fragments. And so, in Egwene, that unity and diversity is embodied. And it’s not just empty words; she understands what it means to be of all Ajahs and none, and the importance of it.

That left her with a difficult decision. She had a fresh army of fifty thousand troops, and the White Tower had suffered an incredible blow. The Aes Sedai would be exhausted, the Tower Guard broken and wounded.

Ah. That’s…I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that this is her conclusion, given the information she has and the position she’s in. Because she’s right; if she’s going to do this, she has a very small window of time, and she could maybe succeed with minimal casualties, if the Tower is weakened enough to surrender rather than fight.

But…she just protected the Tower in battle. To bring another battle against it feels…

She hoped that history would eventually forgive her.

Oh, Egwene.

(Forgive me, for calling this mercy as well).

It just feels like a mistake, though from where she’s standing it’s entirely reasonable, and maybe the best option. She can’t wait for the Aes Sedai in the Tower to call her back as Amyrlin, because she has absolutely no guarantees that they would do so. She can’t wait here, because then the Tower will regain its strength and an attack would only be worse. She’s tried the diplomatic route, such as it is. She doesn’t know Elaida is gone. What choice does that leave her?

And she hates it; she is not approaching this unfeeling. But what else can she do?

It still feels like the wrong choice.

Seriously, Gawyn? You slept outside her tent? Someone needs to teach this boy the difference between ‘romantic’ and ‘excessive’.

But I am ready for this confrontation. For this to be a confrontation, that is, because if it is ANYTHING ELSE, I will probably just lose my shit. And not in a good way.

It was not the time to be a lovesick girl. It was time to be Amyrlin.

I like the way she consistently recognises the separation, and can shift between those roles without…losing herself, I suppose. Being the Amyrlin doesn’t mean killing the girl entirely, it just means knowing when to set her aside. And, fair, these days that’s most of the time. But she still allows that girl to be a part of who she is.

“Gawyn,” she said, raising a hand, stopping him as he stepped toward her. “I haven’t begun to think about what to do with you. Other matters demand my attention.”

THIS IS WHAT I WANTED. Well, honestly, I was up for just about anything that involved a confrontation, but Egwene opening with this not-mad-just-disappointed-don’t-talk-to-me-right-now calm yet exasperated and so very this-is-not-my-priority-go-wait-in-the-corner, only-adult-in-the-situation is DELIGHTFUL.

“No,” Gawyn said, stepping up in front of her. “Egwene, we need to talk.”

“Later.”

“No, not later, burn it! I’ve waited months.”

Oh, poor you. You know who else has waited months? Egwene. To deal with the Tower. Not just waited, but has been actively working towards this. This has been her job, Gawyn, and she needs to deal with it right now because it’s sort of non-trivial in case you haven’t noticed, and your ego can take a damn number and wait. You are not the most important thing here. It’s time you recognised that there is more going on than the things affecting you.

But that’s Gawyn’s whole…thing, isn’t it? He self-deprecates like no other, but he still sees himself as the centre of this story. He is the perfect heroic archetype, the golden prince who knows exactly how his story is meant to go, who knows the script and still cannot understand why it’s not…working. Cannot understand what story he’s actually in, and hasn’t yet worked out how to look past that and see the truth of what’s actually happening, unclouded by the lens of his own perception that tells him to look at everything through the eyes of the Hero Of The Story. That was who he was raised to be, after all, until the Pattern decided to deal him a hand of ‘fuck you’.

I’ve said it before; it’s a fascinating thing to do with a character—to basically have him read out, say, Romeo’s lines while everyone around him is doing Twelfth Night—but right now, when it’s getting in the way of Egwene being awesome and making him into every stereotype of That Guy, I’m just fed up with it.

Telling her ‘no, you need to talk to me because I’ve been waiting’ when she’s about to go do her job is just. No. Don’t be that guy, Gawyn.

“I said that I hadn’t sorted through my feelings yet,” she said coolly, “and I meant it.”

He set his jaw. “I don’t believe that Aes Sedai calmness, Egwene.”

Oh man I’ve heard this conversation. Hell, I’ve had this conversation. LISTEN. TO. WHAT. SHE’S. TELLING. YOU. When she says she’s not sure, or that she needs to think about something, especially when she’s angry at you, it’s probably a terrible idea to just…say that you know better. That you know what she’s thinking better than she does.

“I’ve sacrificed—”

“You’ve sacrificed?” Egwene interrupted, letting a little anger show. “What about what I sacrificed to rebuild the White Tower? Sacrifices that you undermined by acting against my express wishes? Did Siuan not tell you that I had forbidden a rescue?”

“She did,” he said stiffly. “But we were worried about you!”

“Well, that worry was the sacrifice I demanded, Gawyn,” she said, exasperated.

YOU TELL HIM, EGWENE.

When I said I wanted to be a fly on the wall when Egwene wakes up, this is exactly what I meant.

Because someone needs to get it through Gawyn’s head that he is not the only agent in this story. That yes, he has made sacrifices and yes, he was worried, but that doesn’t give him any sort of priority over other people who have done the exact same. It doesn’t give him priority over Egwene’s responsibilities to the Tower and her role, and it sure as hell doesn’t give him authority to override her decisions.

Do you even know what she’s been through, Gawyn? What she’s accomplished? What she’s working for even now? Has it ever occurred to you to ask?

Or did you never think beyond what you’ve been through and what you’ve done in order to be with her. Because obviously only your actions and thoughts matter in that regard, right? Because once you’re together she’ll just…exist exactly as you want and everything will go according to your plans and you’re the only one who could possibly make it so and what business could she possibly have of her own outside of that?

Am I being a little unfair to Gawyn? Maybe. But wow does this push all of my buttons regarding a specific pattern of behaviour a lot of guys show with regards to their female love interests, both in fiction and in reality.

So watching Egwene tear him a new one over it is wonderfully cathartic, I must say.

“Don’t you see what a distrust you have shown me?”

YES. THIS. EXACTLY.

He decided to rescue her against her express orders because…well, of course he has to rescue her! Of course he knows better than she does! And there is absolutely no trust in that. Even if Egwene were wrong, even if she did need to be rescued—and that’s certainly a possibility; there’s no way of knowing what would happen if she were still in the Tower—going against her wishes like this, without even asking her or trying to find a way to communicate with her or persuade her or explain your view of the situation to see if it matches hers is a massive display of…not even distrust but of failing to even consider her competence. It’s patronising.

Anyway I just love watching Egwene articulate all of this. She’s not just angry; she’s very clear about why she’s angry. And she gets pretty quickly to the heart of it: that he didn’t trust her. Or consider that her opinion and her read on the situation should be trusted. He just came in with barely any knowledge of the situation and assumed, immediately, that he knew better than she did.

Gawyn didn’t look ashamed; he just looked perturbed.

Yeah, well, he should. I’ll give him some credit if he actually takes to heart what she’s saying, but that remains to be seen.

“You love me, Egwene,” he said stubbornly. “I can see it.”

*flings book across the room*

Guys? Friendly piece of advice. Telling a woman how she feels, while ignoring what she is telling you regarding how she feels? Not attractive.

Anyway Egwene is doing a rather excellent job here.

“Egwene the woman loves you,” she said. “But Egwene the Amyrlin is furious with you. Gawyn, if you’d be with me, you have to be with both the woman and the Amyrlin. I would expect you—man who was trained to be First Prince of the Sword—to understand that distinction.”

Gawyn looked away.

DRAG HIM.

That was beautiful. Calm, cool, entirely justified, and right on target.

She has to walk that line so carefully herself, between Egwene the woman and Egwene the Amyrlin, and she’s absolutely right that if he is to be with her, he has to understand and—perhaps more importantly—accept that. Accept that she has a role and a duty that exists entirely outside of him, no matter what he might want, and that she can’t toss it aside for him. Nor does she want to.

And…yeah, he should understand that, raised as he was to be First Prince of the Sword to a sister who would be Queen. He should, but he doesn’t, because he was also raised to be the hero of his story, and Egwene is…not playing the role he thought she would, and he’s confused.

And being a dick about it.

“You don’t believe it, do you?” she asked.

“What?”

“That I’m Amyrlin,” she said. “You don’t accept my title.”

“I’m trying to,” he said as he looked back at her.

Yeah sorry but that only gets you a very, very small amount of partial credit. I get that it’s a surprise, and he’s hardly the first to react with disbelief, but…even if he doesn’t fully believe it, and even if it’s a struggle to get his mind around it, he needs to not let that affect his trust in her.

The appropriate response would be something like ‘yeah it’s a surprise, and honestly kind of hard to believe—how did it happen? Is there anything I can help with?’

Even Mat looks better in comparison—he acted like a complete arse when he first heard that Egwene was Amyrlin, but what he did just before he left for The Worst Plotline Ebou Dar, bowing to her and calling her ‘Mother’ to make a point in front of the Aes Sedai who saw her as nothing more than a puppet, was far more the right thing to do. He still doubted, but outwardly he did what he could to support her, and to let her know he supported her.

“But bloody ashes, Egwene. When we parted you were just an Accepted, and that wasn’t so long ago. Now they’ve named you Amyrlin? I don’t know what to think.”

‘But Egwene, it doesn’t make sense to me with my incomplete knowledge of the situation, so you must be wrong’.

Oh, sorry Gawyn, am I putting words into your mouth? Telling you how you really feel? Wonder what that feels like.

“And you can’t see how your uncertainty undermines anything we could have together?”

FUCKING YES.

DO NOT LET HIM OFF EASY.

ASSUMING SOMEONE’S INCOMPETENCE IS NOT ATTRACTIVE.

Every bit of this conversation—no, that’s a lie, every bit of Egwene’s side of this conversation—is exactly what I was hoping it would be and more.

And finally he’s like okay fine I’ll try to change but you need to guide me because I can’t seem to work it out for myself and need someone to hold my hand every step of the way.

I’m paraphrasing, but he deserves it.

“Fine,” Egwene said, passing him. “I can’t think about that now. I have to go order people I care about to slaughter another group of people I care about.”

What a beautiful dismissal. What a beautiful assertion of priorities. Sorry, Gawyn, go wait in the corner with your confusion and your feelings because the grown-ups have some tough decisions to make about, you know, the fate of the world and stuff.

On another note entirely…it’s again a contrast in the making of those harsh decisions between Egwene and Rand. For her, the caring is inextricably tied to it. This is a hard decision and people will die and she has to make it anyway, knowing that.

Gawyn’s like ‘but won’t that make you sad’ and yeah, Gawyn, it will. Better that it would than that it wouldn’t, because we’ve seen what happens when the latter state of mind is reached. (I mean, it was one hell of a beautiful scene, but it wasn’t exactly uh. A good thing).

“I will do what must be done, Gawyn,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For the good of the Aes Sedai and the White Tower. Even if it is painful. Even if it tears me apart inside. I will do it if it needs to be done. Always.”

And she will accept that pain as she has accepted so much pain already, accept it and let it tear her apart inside and go on anyway. She doesn’t spend time hating herself for it, or trying to wall it off; there’s no point. And so she accepts what she must do, and the pain as part of it, because she believes in her reasons for doing it. Because she’s fighting for something. She’ll make these decisions, but she will weigh them against those costs and against that pain and she will not take the harshest route simply because it is the easiest.

But she will take it, if she has to. She has the capacity to be ruthless, and if she needs to, she will be. She will order death today, unless something happens to prevent it. Like Rand, she will do what she believes is necessary, even if there is a cost.

‘This was your fault’ is always a good way to start a scene. No futile arguments here, definitely not.

We’re with the Ajah heads—that much was obvious from the opening dialogue, really. Who else would sit in a circle discussing whom among them is to blame? Get it together, please.

I’m pretty sure we’re in Jesse Bilal’s POV but it’s a little hard to tell. Okay, yes, we are. And she’s not exactly singing this group’s praises. That at least is promising; maybe Egwene’s not the only one capable of learning from her mistakes.

Ferane Neheran—First Reasoner of the White—was a small, stout woman who, oddly for a White, often seemed more temper than logic. Today was one of those times: she sat scowling, her arms folded. She’d refused a cup of tea.

What is wrong with you?

(I’ll take that tea, if you’re not having it.)

(And I no longer trust Ferane.)

Jesse, Adelorna, Ferane, Suana, and Serancha. Pretty sure we knew most of those, but it’s good to have a solid list.

“There is little use in assigning blame.” Suana attempted to be soothing

And, more importantly, the rational adult in the room, it would seem.

Meanwhile Adelorna’s still spoiling for a fight. Save it for Tarmon Gai’don.

“and the Dragon Reborn still walks the earth unfettered.”

In more ways than you know.

At least now they’ve moved on to ‘our’ fault, rather than ‘your’ fault. Accepting responsibility is helpful. Trying to pass it off to the next person like a hot potato is less so.

The first [opportunity] had been the easiest to take hold of: send Sitters to the rebels to steer them and hasten a reconciliation. The most youthful of Sitters had been chosen, their replacements in the Tower intended to serve only a short time. The Ajah heads had been certain this ripple of a rebellion could be easily smoothed over.

And so Siuan’s strange ‘pattern’ has an explanation at last. That’s…not too far off what I was thinking, though I certainly didn’t put together the whole of it. It makes sense—or at least, it makes sense that they would at least try something like this.

They hadn’t taken it seriously enough. That had been their first mistake.

Yours, and so many others’.

The didn’t take it seriously enough, and they vastly overestimated their own ability to control their agents. And vastly underestimated Elaida’s capacity to fuck shit up.

“And then there were the rebels. Far more difficult to control than presumed.”

Thanks in very large part to Siuan, Leane, and Egwene. Without those three, the Ajah heads’ plan may well have worked.

We never should have let Elaida disband the Blue Ajah, Jesse thought. The Blues might have been willing to come back, had it not happened. But it was such a dishonour that they dug in. Light only knew how dangerous that was; the histories were filled with accounts of how dogged the Blues could be at getting their way, particularly when they were forced into a corner.

Or trapped in another dimension?

“I think it is time to admit that there is no hope to save our plans,” Suana said. “Are we agreed?”

“Agreed,” Adelorna said. 

One by one, the sisters nodded their heads, and so did Jesse herself. Even in this room, it was difficult to admit fault. But it was time to cut their losses and begin rebuilding.

Jesse’s not understating it—that’s a hard thing for anyone to admit, much less leaders of a group known for pride and stubbornness. For them to agree to move past it, to focus on rebuilding rather than on clinging to a plan and to power they’ve lost, is a major step.

Now make the right decision, you five.

So far so good: they’re pretty much immediately unanimous in the decision to abandon Elaida to her fate.

“The Amyrlin is buried somewhere in a mass of Seanchan captives”

An experience both Amyrlin claimants now share.

Of course, this means the days of keeping Travelling from the Seanchan are over, but that always felt like an inevitability. Too many people know it at this point; eventually, something was going to go wrong. You can’t keep a secret with that many.

“Then we need a replacement,” Serancha said. “But who?”

Three guesses how this ends.

But this is what Egwene has been driving towards. Not Elaida’s fall so much as the Aes Sedai’s choice. Her battle wasn’t truly against Elaida; it was a fight to unite the Tower around her, to heal the cracks with it and give them a leader they could trust and rely on and look to. And for that to work, they have to choose her.

So in that sense, it doesn’t matter than Elaida is out of the picture so much as it matters that they choose Egwene. It is about the choice, not about the fight.

“What about Saerin Asnobar?” Jesse asked. “She has shown uncanny wisdom of late, and she is well liked.”

“Of course you’d choose a Brown,” Adelorna said.

And that, right there, is why Egwene is going to win this. Because the divisions between the Ajahs still run too deep for any sister who wears the shawl to gain support. No matter the Ajah, it would be seen as unfairness.

Maybe a Blue would have a chance, as the Blue was disbanded within the Tower and therefore wasn’t really able to become as much a part of the inter-Ajah enmity. But that would mean choosing one of the rebels, and choosing someone who none of them have seen or interacted with for almost a year, and people don’t work that way.

So of course they all start advocating members of their own Ajah, and defending their own Ajah’s virtues as the best for the situation, and you’re all missing the point. All of those things are needed. That’s why the Amyrlin is meant to be of all Ajahs and none; because no one virtue or goal is sufficient on its own, or better than the others. But they can’t look past the Ajah traits and stereotypes to accept that a woman chosen from one Ajah could indeed embody all.

“Are we just going to squabble as the Hall has been doing all morning? Each Ajah offering its own members, and the others summarily rejecting them?”

I mean…yes. That’s exactly what’s happening, and it doesn’t take the Foretelling to have predicted it.

Which only leaves one eligible candidate, really. Who has, coincidentally, spent the past weeks running a rather effective campaign.

Of course, they still don’t jump to the obvious conclusion, but first have a go at choosing one amongst themselves. Before rejecting that idea, too, as it would upset the delicate balance here.

Any day now, ladies.

“They’re so divided they can’t agree on what colour the sky is.”

Yeah, well, neither could the clouds in the Prologue, so at least they’re in keeping with the Pattern.

Suana really is the only adult in this room, and her patience is truly that of a saint. How many times has she had to say something along the lines of ‘okay, but we still need to deal with the actual issues here’?

Serancha shook her head. “I honestly can’t think of a single woman that a sufficient number of Sitters would support.”

“I can,” Adelorna said softly.

And so here we are. Finally. It seems inevitable…but the way it’s played out also feels very true to who the Aes Sedai are.

“She was mentioned in the Hall several times today. You know of whom I speak. She is young, and her circumstances are unusual, but everything is unusual at the moment.”

And more importantly, she is the one person among them all who has put more effort into uniting than dividing. The others have accepted that they must work together, but it is still a fragile acceptance, and as this conversation shows, difficult to maintain when things get complicated. It’s too easy to retreat behind the walls they’ve built around their Ajahs, too easy to cast blame and judgements. Too easy to fall apart. But Egwene has been working tirelessly to unite them despite that; Egwene, who never chose an Ajah, and who fought for a Tower even as it tried to reject her.

Who else could they choose?

The others still aren’t so sure, but they’re very quickly talking themselves into it. That’s what happens when there isn’t much choice. And when she has made quite the case for herself.

“You’ve heard the reports of her actions during the attack,” Adelorna said. “I can confirm that they are true. I was there with her for most of it.”

And called her Mother, as I recall.

“Surely some of what was said is exaggeration.”

Adelorna shook her head grimly. “No. It isn’t. It sounds incredible…but it…well, it happened. All of it.”

This is almost as good as the outsider POV realisations of what—or rather who—was happening during that battle. The part of me that reads fantasy for good old-fashioned wish-fulfilment loves these moments where characters realise, or point out, or are faced with, just how incredible another character is.

And this is what Egwene has worked for, and bled for. She deserves this, and they’re recognising it, and Gawyn should be taking notes.

“If the Sitters will not stand for someone of another Ajah, what of a woman who never picked an Ajah? A woman who has some experience—however unjustified—in holding the very position we are discussing?”

Never underestimate the value of previous job experience in a candidate for a leadership position. Ahem. I am absolutely not in any way speaking of a real-life political situation here, whatever gave you that idea?

As for the rest…it fits rather nicely with Egwene’s thoughts about the virtues of each of the Ajahs earlier in this chapter, and of how the Tower requires all of them; how she must be able to embody all of them.

But how had the young rebel gained such respect from Ferane and Adelorna?

Good old-fashioned sweat, blood, and tears, mostly.

Also some well-timed fireballs and a killer Heroic Silhouette.

“Didn’t you yourself say that we had to heal the Tower, no matter what the cost?” Adelorna asked. “Can you honestly think of a better way to bring the rebels ack to us?”

That is also a very, very good point. It goes a long way towards allowing the rebels to rejoin the Tower and still save face; this way, both sides capitulate to a certain extent. The Tower accepts Egwene as Amyrlin, and the rebels accept the Tower, and Egwene can take care of the rest.

“You aren’t foolish enough to assume this woman will be led by the nose, are you?”

Good. Because the last…everyone…who tried that learned the hard way that no, she will not.

And so it is done.

Now we just have to hope they get word to Egwene before she orders an attack on the Tower, because that would ruin everything. After all she’s done…

Over to Siuan, who is watching Sheriam enter an apparently secret meeting with Egwene. Interesting.

At least she and Bryne understand that Egwene is Not Entirely Pleased with them and why.

“Nobody likes being disobeyed, least of all the Amyrlin. I will pay for last night, Bryne. You’re right that it probably won’t be in a public way, but I worry that I’ve lost the girl’s trust.”

Siuan, you are bonded to the man—I think you can call him by his first name.

As for the rest…Siuan still thinks she made the right choice, but the difference between her and Gawyn is that she also accepts the consequences of it. She knows she has likely damaged the trust between herself and Egwene, and she knows why, and doesn’t go on about how unfair it is.

“And what of the other costs?” Bryne added.

She could feel his hesitation, his worry. She turned to him, smiling in amusement. “You’re a fool, Gareth Bryne.”

He frowned.

“Bonding you was never a cost,” She said.

*Shakes head* what are we going to do with you two. Just kiss, damn it.

And coming from me, that’s saying something.

“I think I actually understand you now, Siuan Sanche. You are a woman of honour. It’s just that nobody else’s requirements of you can ever be more harsh or more demanding than your own requirements of yourself. You owe such a self-imposed debt to your own sense of duty that I doubt any mortal being could pay it back.”

That’s…a high compliment, from Bryne. And kind of sweet, I suppose. Either way, it’s a good contrast to Gawyn’s conversation with Egwene, in that this one is based on actual mutual understanding rather than on ‘I know half the situation and so I will Tell You How You Feel’.

Siuan’s still not entirely here for it, though.

“Are you going to tell me that other demand, or are you going to make me wait?”

He studied her stone face thoughtfully. “Well, frankly, I’m planning to demand that you marry me.”

And that’s…well, not the weirdest marriage proposal in these books, because Mat and Tuon exist, but it’s an entertainingly odd one. And fitting, for the two of them. Their entire relationship is like that—kind of adorably exasperating.

“But only after you feel the world can care for itself. I won’t agree to it before then, Siuan. You’ve given your life to something. I’ll see that you survive through it; I hope that once you’re done, you’ll be willing to give your life to something else instead.”

Aw. He gets it. He knows what this cause means to her, and he’s not going to ask her to decide between it and him; he’ll stand by her through this and then they can deal with what comes after. It really is a lovely contrast to Gawyn at the moment, who is…intentionally or otherwise demanding almost the opposite.

I think what makes this relationship relatively tolerable to me is more or less exactly this—it doesn’t really interfere with their plotlines. I mean, okay, it kind of does in the sense that it’s what brought Bryne to the rebels in the first place, but for the most part the two of them do their jobs first, and each other second. (Actually, I don’t think they do do each other; last we heard, Siuan was thinking about how he never even tried to kiss her, but my point is…)

I hope they do live through this. Mostly I hope Siuan lives through this, because the woman deserves some happiness in her life, and deserves to get to have a life, and I still need her reunion with Moiraine.

He replaced his hand on her shoulder. Soft, not forceful. Willing to wait. He did understand her.

TAKE. NOTES. GAWYN.

All right, Egwene, let’s see what this secret meeting of yours is all about.

Sheriam had seemed troubled as she entered. Did she realise what Egwene knew? She couldn’t. If she had, she’d never have come to the meeting.

Ah, is that what she’s called all the Sitters here for? A secret meeting, to do away with a very large secret, perhaps?

After what Egwene had been through in the White Tower, this squabbling felt ridiculously petty.

No shit. It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? Even the battle against the Seanchan begins to look almost petty when weighed against the imminent Last Battle…

“You said that there were important revelations to make,” Varilin added. “Is this regarding the Seanchan attack?”

Somehow I don’t think so. After Egwene’s thoughts earlier this chapter about secrecy, and the dangers of keeping secrets…

So it was the Oath Rod she took from the Tower this morning. Which means…

Huh. Of course. First, it means Egwene finally takes the Three Oaths. Here, with all the rebel Sitters to stand witness. A final step, in some ways; they’ve long since had to get over any hangups regarding her status as Aes Sedai, but those in the Tower still don’t all see it that way, and even amongst the rebels it was something that set her apart. If she is to unify them, she must be one of them.

However she may feel, or may once have felt, about the Oaths themselves, the point isn’t in them so much as it is in the indication of unity and community. They have these literally bone-deep oaths in common, and it’s been part of the Aes Sedai identity for so long that to question them, especially at a time when the Tower is already falling apart, could mean breaking the Aes Sedai completely. She has to swear, and have them witness her swearing, to demonstrate her commitment to that unity, that identity. To reaffirm it, almost, because in so many other ways they have lost sight of who they are.

None of them said anything about her not having taken the test to gain the shawl. She would see to that another day.

That almost does seem absurd, given everything they’ve seen her do, but again it’s more symbolic than anything.

“And now that you’ve seen me use the Oath Rod and know that I cannot lie, I will tell you something. During my time in the White Tower, a sister came to me and confided that she was Black Ajah.”

Oh, wow, we really are going for full transparency here.

Then again, this is one of those cases where the truth is more shocking and compelling than any evasion or truncation she could present them with. And Egwene does have something of a tradition of shocking the Hall.

“It is shameful, but it is a truth that we—as the leaders of our people—must admit. Not in public; but among ourselves there is no avoiding it. I have seen firsthand what distrust and quiet politicking can do to a people. I will not see the same disease infect us here. We are of different Ajahs, but we are single in purpose. We need to know that we can trust one another implicitly, because there is very little else in this world that can be trusted.”

But what colour is that trust, Egwene? Surely not any of the Ajah colours.

It’s such an important statement, though; and even more important that she’s backing it up by example. So much of this series has been focused around the consequences of not trusting, of keeping secrets, of operating on only partial information. And on those rare occasions when characters have truly trusted one another, it has almost always been rewarded.

They will have to trust one another if they are to face the Last Battle united. They will have to learn to work together, learn to be united, because otherwise they play into the Shadow’s hands.

Egwene looked up. “I am not a Darkfriend,” she announced to the room. “And you know it cannot be a lie.”

She demands trust and transparency, and so she begins by showing herself to be worthy of it. By telling them of that secret, and swearing in a way they know must be true that she does not serve the Shadow. Maybe they never doubted, but as with so much, it’s the symbolic act that counts here. She asks nothing of them that she will not do herself, and she proves herself trustworthy even as she demands that trust of them.

And now she’s going to use the same trick Seaine and the others used. Which might work in this sealed tent, but how is she planning to do that with all of the Aes Sedai, without word getting out or some of them running—or just attacking? Careful, Egwene.

Sheriam embraced the Source.

Ah. Well, there’s one. Subtle, Sheriam.

“Are you Black Ajah, Sheriam?” “What? Of course not!” “Do you consort with the Forsaken?”

(I’d have phrased that one a little differently, just saying…)

“No!” Sheriam said, glancing to the sides. “Do you serve the Dark One?” “No!” “Have you been released from your oaths?” “No!” “Do you have red hair?” “Of course not, I never—” She froze.

Does that actually work? If so, this is why you listen before you agree, and read the fine print before you sign. It’s well played on Egwene’s part, certainly, though it seems like Sheriam had already implicated herself enough by acting exactly like a child who’s just been caught with a hand in the cookie jar for the other Sitters to have restrained her and demanded that she swear on the Oath Rod, just as Saerin and that lot did with Talene.

But that would be less dramatic, wouldn’t it?

Or maybe Sheriam’s real secret is that she actually dyes her hair that colour.

“Ah, then,” the woman said softly, eyes mournful. “Who was it, now, who came to you?”

That’s…strangely accepting. I would have expected more fight from Sheriam, but in a way I suppose this also fits. There’s nowhere for her to go now, after all. And she only ever joined as a way to get ahead; I think she’s been regretting aspects of that choice for a long time now.

“Verin Mathwin.”

“Well, well,” Sheriam said, settling back on her chair. “Never expected it of her, I’ll say. How did she get past the oaths to the Great Lord?”

“She drank poison,” Egwene said, heart twisting. 

“Very clever.” The flame-haired woman nodded. “I could never bring myself to do such a thing. Never indeed…”

It’s a quiet sort of testament to Verin’s strength, that she alone could exploit that loophole. That even someone like Sheriam might, in her way, admire her for it. Verin found a way out.

And Egwene isn’t hiding that. She promised Verin she would make sure the others knew she was never truly Black Ajah, not in her loyalties. And so Egwene tells what she knows, and doesn’t hide what Verin was and what she did, and what she sacrificed for it. She makes sure they know Verin for the hero she was, that her name is not tainted by the Ajah she had to claim.

Nice try, Moria. I’m still kind of bummed about that one, I’ll admit. She was such a critical voice in the vote to reach out to the Black Tower, and an important supporter for Egwene.

Egwene is not even remotely here for Romanda or Lelaine trying to start shit right now. Just…don’t even try it, you two. Not today. Or ever, really, but now is just so very not the time.

But they both submit to her request to re-swear the oaths, which in a way is almost a sign of respect.

Huh, none besides Sheriam and Moria, it seems. I’m a little surprised.

“From now on, we continue as one. No more squabbling. No more fighting. We each have the best interests of the White Tower—and the world itself—at heart.”

Clever of her, to tie those things together this way. The beginning of a…cleansing of the Black Ajah, and the need for unity and trust. She makes this into something that binds them, into a symbol of that trust she so desperately needs them to find, makes this as much a shared part of their identity as the oaths themselves, and directs it at the Tower and the world, aims it at a purpose. She binds them with this, and it works. Because she’s not just asking them to trust each other; she’s showing them why they should—showing them what they share, and proving the reasons for that trust, by also showing them who the enemy really is and forcing them to share in facing that truth.

It's very, very well done.

Now if she can do the same in the Tower…Seaine and Saerin and their group have made a good start, but part of their problem was the need to do it in secret, because they weren’t sure where they stood with Elaida, and also it was dangerous as all hell.

It still is, but if Egwene can work out a way to force this into the open, to make it a binding not just of these Sitters here but of all the Aes Sedai, to make it a point of shared trust and unity, and force them to recognise and look upon their true enemies—not each other, but the Shadow and those who serve it—it could go a long way towards closing those rifts.

She saw something of this, in her Accepted test. She remembered something about a ‘Great Purge’. So much from that test has come true, if often in a different way than how she saw it…

“It will be difficult, as we will have to seize all of them as simultaneously as possible.”

Their greatest advantage, beyond surprise, was going to be the inherently distrusting nature of the Black Ajah.

I mean, it’s not just the Black Ajah who are inherently distrusting, but I like your optimism.

Then again this is Egwene; she will make the rest of them trust each other through sheer force of will if she has to. She’s already made a good start.

Ah, so she does have a plan for how to accomplish that simultaneous arrest. IT could work.

“Light, what a mess,” Romanda muttered.

You’re not alone, Romanda. That’s a common sentiment these days.

“And what of the White Tower?” Lelaine said. 

“Once we have cleansed ourselves,” Egwene said, “then we can do what must be done to reunify the Aes Sedai.”

“You mean—”

“Yes, Lelaine,” Egwene said. “I mean to begin an assault on Tar Valon by this evening.”

That’s…not a lot of time, for the Tower to get word to her. If the Ajah heads can even convince the Hall in time.

Could Egwene not make it an assault on the Black Ajah specifically, instead? Turn up in the Tower with the Oath Rod and find Sitters she can trust and tell them what Verin told her, and get them to swear? Even as I’m typing this I suppose there are so many ways that could go wrong. But there are also so many ways a battle against the Tower could go wrong, so…

“Light preserve us,” Lelaine whispered. “And forgive us for what we are about to do.”

My thoughts exactly, Egwene added.

A perfect echo of her thoughts. And a warped echo of another plea for forgiveness… This is not right. This could so easily break everything she has tried to build, and right as it’s about to pay off…

Next (TGS ch 44) Previous (TGS ch 42)

#now would be a very good time to invent the telephone #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

[wepon]

the homestuck epilogues: bridges and off-ramps, by andrew hussie*

the history of the printed version of the homestuck epilogues is also the history of the homestuck epilogues themselves because i originally envisioned releasing them only as a book like this to even further emphasize their conceptual separation from the main narrative. if you know anything about the epilogues, you probably already understand that conceptually distinguishing themselves from the story by their presentation as fanfiction as an important part of their nature and what they're trying to say. in the form of a book which you can read from one side or flip upside-down and read from the other, it somewhat carries the feeling of a cursed tome, something which maddeningly beckons due to whatever insanity it surely contains but also something which causes feelings of trepidation. there's an ominous aura surrounding such a work, probably for a few reasons. the sheer size of it means the nature of the content probably isn't going to be that trivial. the stark presentation of the black-and-white covers, its dual narrative format, the foreboding prologue combined with an alarming list of content warnings, and even the fact that an epilogue is delivered with a prologue first, all adds up to a piece of media that appears designed to make the reader nervous about what to expect from it. such is the nature of a cursed tome retrieved from a place which may have been best left undisturbed. it is also the nature of any creed[?] of inclination to reopen a story which had already been laid to rest, a reader's desire to agitate and then collapse the bubble which contain the imagined projection of happily-ever-after simply by observing it. there exists inherent danger in a reader's eagerness to collapse that bubble or to crack that tome. there is also danger in a creator's willingness to accommodate that desire. it's a risk for all involved. it should be. obviously it wasn't released as a book until now. the plans for printing it had already been made but were just delayed until well after its release on-site. we decided to just release it all on the site so that everyone could read it right away if they wanted. there was a long tradition of making all content freely accessible on the site, and we just produced one utterly enormous update, which we were perfectly aware would cause a massive amount of discussion and agitation in the fandom. overall it was probably better to just get it out there, let people read it relatively quickly, form their opinions on it, and then begin discussing it critically. in other words, people were going to feel something from all of this, so it seemed better to just let it out there, allow the maximum number of people to feel whatever it would cause them to feel, give people time to process those feelings, and then move on to whatever comes next. but what comes next? that's a good question. i feel like the work does a lot to suggest it's not merely following up on the lives of all the characters after a few years but also reorganizing all narrative circumstances in a way that points forward to a new continuity with a totally different set of stakes. in this sense, i think it's heavily implied to be a piece of bridge media, which is clearly detached from the previous narrative and conceptually optional by its presentation, which allows it to function as an off-ramp for those inclined to believe the first seven acts of homestuck were perfectly sufficient. but for those who continue to feel investment in these characters and this world, ironically the very elements which could be regarded as disturbing or depressing are also the main reasons to have hope that there is still more to see because, as certain characters go to some length to elaborate on, you can't tell new stories without reestablishing significant dramatic stakes, new problems to overcome, new injustices to correct, new questions to answer. there can be no sense of emotional gratification later without us first experiencing certain periods of emotional recession. and by peeking into the imagined realm of happily-ever-after to satisfy our curiosity, we discover our attention isn't so harmless because the complexities and sorrows of adult life can't be ignored, nor can the challenges of creating a civilization from scratch when several teenagers are handed god status. it turns out the gaze we cast from the skies of earth c revisited aren't exactly friendly like warm sunlight. it's more like a ravaging beam, destructive and unsettling to all that could have been safely imagined. our continued attention is the very property which incites new problems, and the troublemakers appear to be keenly aware of this so they spring into action and begin repositioning all the stage props for a new implied narrative. but implied is all it was. there was no immediate announcement for follow-up content and i'm not announcing anything yet here, either. more time was always going to be necessary to figure out what to do next, including what form it takes, the timing, and all those questions. for now i think it was alright to just let things simmer for a while and give people an extended period of time to meditate on the meaning of the epilogues and why they involve the choices they did. but regardless of anyone's conclusions about it, i can at least confirm that it was designed to feel like a bridge piece since its conception. is it this way because an epilogue should be this way? no. it is this way because i thought that was the most suitable role for an epilogue to play in the context of the weird piece of media homestuck has always been. the story experiments a lot with the way stories are told, and in particular messes with the ways certain stretches of content get partitioned and labeled. playing with the labeling, i think, has ways of bringing attention to those labels, what they actually mean, and how they affect our perception of events covered under certain labels. it can even get us to wonder why certain labels exist at all, and can expose flaws in the construction of stories which include them. for instance, intermission is such a label. but perhaps another way of saying intermission is "whoops, the story is getting too long, here's a break from the real story with a bunch of dumb shit that doesn't matter". it's seemingly a tacit admission to a problem, and by continuing to toy with that label as the story rolls along, you start to unpack the nature of that problem by implicitly asking questions about it. if you have one intermission because the story got long, can you have two if it gets longer? can you have even more than that? once you have a multitude of intermissions, don't you have two dueling threads of content, one supposedly irrelevant and the other important? and if that's true, then is it possible for the irrelevant thread to accrue more importance, throwing it's entire identity as optional content into question retroactively? and if that can happen, is it possible that two threads can flip roles with the intermissions becoming more important than the main acts? then once the story goes through the motions of answering yes to all this, isn't it also fair to ask "why bother with this examination at all"? was it pure horseplay and trickery? actually yes, sort of. there is a trick involved. the gradual realization that intermission content is non-trivial forces the reader to re-evaluate their perception of the material which was originally influenced by a label presiding over that material and what they believed that label meant. it relies on the reader's presumption about the label's meaning to disguise certain properties of the content, such as relevance, and therefore disarms the reader initially, leading to the potential for subverting expectations about the content later in surprising ways. in other words, you can use whatever it is the reader already presumes about stories to control the perception of what they are reading just by shifting the boundaries of whatever it is they've been well-trained to expect from certain elements. so now the label "epilogue" has been toyed with in a similar way, and also in a manner which supposes an apparent flaw with the label. or actually, just by using the label "epilogue" at all, it seems the story is admitting to an apparent flaw. if another way of saying intermission is "whoops, the story's too long, here's a break", then an alternate way of saying epilogue is "whoops, i forgot some shit, here's some more", and we know right away this label will be subject to the same type of trickery since there are two story paths of eight epilogues each, prefaced by a shared prologue. it's already an unhinged implementation of the label before you even read it, which means it's probably time to get nervous about whether it satisfies your expectations about what the content existing under such a label should provide. before you read it, it's already an invitation to start questioning what an epilogue even is and whether it's kind of a silly idea even if applied conventionally. take a fifty-chapter novel with an epilogue, for example. why isn't the epilogue just called chapter fifty-one? why was the choice made to label that content differently? should we consider it an important part of the story or should we not? if it's not important, why are we reading it? and if it is important, why is it given a label which is almost synonymous with afterthought? is it a simple parting gift to the reader, to provide minor forms of satisfaction which the core narrative wasn't built to provide? is it actually important to deliver those minor satisfactions? if it really is important, why didn't that content appear in chapter fifty-one? and if it isn't, why bother at all? what are we even doing here? by going down this path of questioning, it sounds like we're assembling a case against writing epilogues altogether, but actually, there's really nothing wrong with them. it's a perfectly reasonable thing to include in any story. it's just that the more you ask questions like these, the more you're forced to think about the true nature of these storytelling concepts, the actual purposes they're meant to serve. and with something like homestuck, where issues like this are heavily foregrounded, like what should be considered canon versus non-canon, or even more esoteric concepts like "outside" of canon or "beyond" canon, that the issues you uncover when you ask such questions about an epilogue can't really be ignored. my feeling is there's almost no choice but to turn the conventional ideals associated with epilogues completely inside out, because of the inherent contradictions  involved with crossing the post-canon threshold and revealing that which was not meant to be known. stories end where they do for certain reasons. answering the questions which were thematically important to answer and leaving some questions unanswered for similar reasons, and the reader is left with the task of deciphering the meaning of those decisions. under the "whoops, i forgot some shit, here's more" interpretation of an epilogue as a flawed construct, by reopening an already closed-circuit narrative, what you're really doing is introducing destabilizing forces into something which had already reached a certain equilibrium due to all these considerations that went into which questions to answer and which to leave ambiguous, and these destabilizing forces became the entire basis for the construction of an entirely new post-canon narrative, for better or worse. these are the types of things the epilogues let you think about, along with a few other ideas, like the fact that all narratives have perspectives and biases depending on who's telling the story, even in the case where it's unclear whether the narrator has any specific identity. the suggestion that all narratives are driven by agendas, sometimes thinly disguised, other times heavily. there's also stuff to think about just due to its presentation as fanfiction, and that it's the first installment of homestuck which included other authors. contrary to some speculation i've seen, every word of all seven acts were written by me alone. by deploying it as mock-fanfiction and including other authors, i'm making an overt gesture that is beginning to diminish my relevance as the sole authority on the direction this story takes, what should be regarded as canon, and even introducing some ambiguity into your understanding of what canon means as the torch is being passed into a realm governed by fan desires. if the epilogues really prove themselves to be the bridge media they were designed to feel like, then i expect this trend to continue. the fanfiction format is effectively a call to action for another generation of creators to imagine different outcomes, to submit their own work within the universe, to extend what happens beyond the epilogues or to pave over them with their own ideas, and i believe the direness in tone, with some of the subject matter, suitably contributes to the urgency of this call to action. i also feel that many of the negative feelings this story creates isn't just an urgent prompt for the reader to imagine different ideas or ways to solve the new narrative dilemmas. it's also an opportunity for people to discuss any of the difficult content critically, and fandom in general continuing to develop the tools for processing the negative emotions art can generate. sorting that out has to be a communal experience, and it's an important part of the cycle between creating and criticizing art. i think not only can creators develop their skills to create better things by practicing in taking certain risks, fandom is something which can develop better skills as well. skills like critical discussion, dealing constructively with negative feelings resulting from the media they consume, interacting with each other in more meaningful ways, and trying to understand different points of view outside of the factions within fandom that can become very hardened over time. fandoms everywhere tend to get bad reputations for various reasons, maybe justifiably, but i don't see why it can't be an objective to try and improve fandom, just as creators can improve this work, and i think this can only happen if, now and then, fandoms are seriously challenged by being encouraged to think about complex ideas and made to feel difficult emotions. i believe when art creates certain kinds of negative feelings in people it can lead to some of the most transformative experiences art has to offer, but it helps to be receptive to this idea for these experiences to have a positive net effect on your life and your relationship with art. so now i'm looking to all of you on the matter of where to go next, wherever the most conscientious and invested members of fandom want to drive this universe, as well as the standards by which we engage with media in general. that will be the direction i follow.

*i have no way to verify this statement

#homestuck #posting this because i think it's helping me let go of the desire for a proper final conclusion #[waves] goodbye

[xen-lovegood]

Headcanons

Xen’s crowning achievement of their Hogwarts years is sabotaging the Slytherin Quidditch team. It wasn’t about winning a game or the house points—Xen couldn’t care less about Quidditch really and the house tournament always seemed rather trivial to them. No, the Slytherin team was being rather awful to a group of first year Hufflepuff girls and someone had to put an end to it. So right before the Slytherin/Gryffindor game, Xeno may have enchanted all their brooms to give them all a horrible case of jock itch.

When Xeno wasn’t trying to sneak into the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library or wondering off into the Forbidden Forest, you could usually find them at the lake. It was a nice relaxing place and a good place to get high without the professors catching you. There was, of course, also the giant squid. Xen named him Sqedward and tried desperately to train him. Much to Xen’s dismay, the squid never did listen, no matter what they tried, and their dreams of riding the great beast as Muggles do dolphins at Sea World were thwarted.

Xeno isn’t sure how to feel about all the violence Aversio has been using lately. They’re not much prone to violence themselves and tend to take less traditional approaches when push comes to shove (see above). They don’t necessarily support just how violent the group is being, but they know something needs to be done given the state of the wizarding world and their Muggle relations. Sure, it’s nice the Order exists, but just talking about making change isn’t enough. You have to do something for anything to happen. Maybe Aversio’s path isn’t the right one, but it’s the best path available at the current time, so he’s going to take it.

Xeno has an extremely deep love of New Scamander. They think he’s absolutely brilliant. Living a life searching out and findings and treating and fighting for and writing about magical creatures, it just sounds like an absolute dream. Xen’s copy of Fantastic Beasts long ago had to be enchanted so the pages wouldn’t fall apart from wear and there’s paragraphs of notes scribbled into the margins. If they cared less about trying to make a difference for humans, they would almost certainly become a magizoologist, but there’s far too much work to be done getting humans to care about each other before trying to get them to care for creatures. Not that that puts any damper on Xen’s love of all things animal, vegetable, and mineral and his extraordinary adoration of his hero. The day Luna brought home a Scamader was damn near the proudest day of his whole life.

(Note: I saw you guys have a profession list and picked on that feels the most fitting for a young Xeno. I’m more than open to adjusting to fit your views/group needs for job positions.) Xeno currently works at the Daily Prophet. Sure, it’s corrupt and what they’re printing is hardly the truth, but Xen is convinced they’ll be able to change it from the inside out if only they try hard enough. They thought if they joined the Prophet they’d be able to print articles to change minds and change the ideals of the paper’s staff. So far it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere though. Most of his articles wind up getting cut out of the paper and the editor is scolding him more than publishing him. It’s starting to get frustrating, but they’re still holding out hope to make a difference. (The Quibbler will still be founded at a later date when Xen can no longer deny that they aren’t making any impact at the Prophet. Or possibly the Quibbler is founded as an Aversio propaganda paper that either uses Xen’s eccentric interests as a way to send veiled/coded messages to members or it just simply morphs into something entirely different as the war winds down and after Pandora’s death becoming the zany brain child seen in the books.)

Xenophilius sends Howlers quite frequently to anyone in the select group they consider friends. They’re not angry, no, of course not, that’s just now who he is. But there’s just something about a talking/screaming message that simply conveys things written letters can’t. Hand written messages just aren’t…dramatic emphatic enough.

More often than not, when writing Xen tends to dictate out loud to an enchanted quill while pacing around the room and keeping their hands busy.

Xen is a lover of accessories and is rarely without at least half a dozen rings between their two hands.

Xeno is a babbler. Bring up any topic he’s half interested in with anyone willing to even half pretend to be half listening and he’ll babble on endlessly about most anything. Their speech patters tend to involve long drawn out sentences that can be a bit hard to follow.

A few quick facts about their family: Their dad is a wizard while their mum is a muggle. Their father isn’t entirely supportive of their (for the time) progressive gender and sexual identities—the older Lovegood doesn’t necessarily scorn it or treat their child poorly, but he just doesn’t get it. Xen is an only child.

He brought a toad with him for his years at Hogwarts named Wartly. He talks to him a lot and even created a miniature, functional piano for the little guy to enjoy, fully infuriating most all of the Ravenclaw house as the toad would “play” at all hours of the night and Xen did absolutely nothing to “restrict the creature’s right to freedom of expression.”

Two brief headcanons about Xen as an adult that likely won’t have an impact on game play but I can’t shake:

Xen often calls his wife Panda Bear and his daughter his Little Moon

Xen’s knowns about the Deathly Hallows for quite some time, but the reason he carries so much information about them in Harry’s time is because of Pandora. After her death, Xenophilus poured himself into a way to bring back the love of his life. He’s still certain the only thing that could bring her back. He never managed it and maybe that’s for the best, but his knowledge of the Hallows comes down to his longing to bring back Panda.

Connections: 

(These are a few ideas for connections, all pending approval of the characters’ respective players and naturally his connections aren’t limited to these, but it’s a jumping off point and a look into how he relates to others)

Marlene—Marlene and Xen easily go back to their early Hogwarts days. She’s one of his best friends and one of few that can fully stomach everything that is the complexity of Xenophilius Lovegood. She’s a pub buddy and his go to for someone to smoke with. No one makes them smile and laugh quite the way Marlene can—even if they both spend just as much time rolling their eyes at one another.

The Black Family—The Black Family as a whole is just…distasteful to Xeno. They’re the perfect portrait of everything wrong in the wizarding community. They can’t stand them. Even Sirius, who’s long been a member of the Order and Aversio, Xen can’t quite bring themselves to fully trust—can someone truly disconnect so completely from a family so deeply tainted? The Blacks are violent and bigoted power hungry. Despite his typically warm personality, he’s often notably cold to the Black family and their backwards ways.

Rita—A fellow wizarding journalist, Xen and Rita have always been in the same circles. It doesn’t make them friends though. They have very different world views. She’s the kind who is actually published by the Prophet—though really he can’t see why as so many of her article are full of half-truths and exaggerations. Xeno is always trying to get her to write something good. Something worth her time. Something valuable and positive. It hasn’t worked thus far, so for the time being they’re really just rivals at best.

Arthur—Arthur Weasley is something of a treasure to Xen. They both have immense loves for things that no one else can quite fully appreciate. And sure, they don’t always have interest in the same sorts of things, but there is something nice about finding someone how loves loving things the way you do. The two can sit and babble on for hours, neither really saying anything relating to what the other’s just said and neither really minding because at least someone is finally listening to them.

Sybill—Sybill is so free and strange, just like himself and honestly, Xeno loves it. They always feel free to be unabashedly weird with her and it’s rather freeing. They’ve tried time and time again to get her to teach him divination. And she’s tried, she really has, but every time he fails to see anything of the future, he just tells her he’s failed to teach him properly rather than accept the fact that he’ll never have the affinity she does.

Lucius—Few people really truly get under Xenophilius’s skin quite the way Lucius does. He’s just so smug and so self-important and so sure he’s better than absolutely everyone when the reality is, he’s not. ‘Men’ who act like they are men, like they are more than what they are, when really, push comes to shove, they are nothing, are an utter frustration to Xeno. They’re very, very tempted to put him in his place and at some point, they just may. Someone needs to.

#headcanons #headcanon #audition

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IT COMPRESSED US ECONOMICALLY TOO, AND IN SOME WAYS A WORSE KIND OF HARD

The most dramatic example of Web 2. The problem is, people who propose new checks almost never consider that the check itself has a cost.1 And since the latter is huge the former should be too. In the limit case, by writing a Lisp interpreter in the less powerful language. Specific numbers are good. Producers of technology tradeshows and conferences, according to their site. The point is not just a barbershop whose founders were unusually lucky and hard-working.2 And people's desires seem to be of the form x meets y.3 Companies do them because they need a job.4 0 i return s 0 return bar Python users might legitimately ask why they can't just write def foo n: class acc: def __init__ self, n: self. One reason Europe pulled ahead was that the proper role of anteaters is to poke their noses into anthills.

0 mean anything more than the name of a conference yet? The screen's too shiny, and the essay will still survive. Many of the big, national corporation. If you want cohesion now, you'd have to induce it deliberately. The mistake they're making is that by basing their opinions on anecdotal evidence they're implicitly judging by the median startup, the whole concept of a startup.5 Venture investors are driven by something else. But the most immediate evidence I had that something was amiss was that I couldn't talk to them, Yahoo's revenues would have decreased.6

Here's a sign of trouble. That has always been the case for thinkers, which is one of Silicon Valley's biggest weaknesses. Programmers, though, like it better when they write more code. If it becomes common to start a startup, you had to convince investors there will be a lot of growth in this area, just as automating things often turns out to be. It happened to cloth manufacture in the thirteenth century, generating the wealth that later brought about the Renaissance. One of the most popular sites were loaded with obtrusive branding that made them want to buy us. 0 mean anything more than the name of the Web 2.7 Well, this doesn't sound that unreasonable. And so most of them don't.8 That was new.9 Miss out on what? I.

John McCarthy published a remarkable paper in which he did for programming something like what Euclid did for geometry. The last straw for me was a sentence I read a couple days ago: The mercurial Spaniard himself declared: After Altamira, all is decadence. Don't try to seem more than you actually are. There is no real distinction between read-time, and runtime.10 Now everyone can, and we got Java applets. Smart investors can see past such superficial flaws. Or the company that solved that important problem. Maybe I can't plead Occam's razor; maybe I'm simply eccentric.

We fell into the classic problem of how when a new medium comes out it adopts the practices, the content of your description approaches zero. Bar neighborhood is a sufficient idea for a small business. Another sign of user need is when people pay a lot for something.11 What do they all have in common is that they're all more concentrated forms of less addictive predecessors. We usually advise startups to pick a growth rate reduces the otherwise bewilderingly multifarious problem of starting a startup into an optimization problem. During the 90s a lot of startups—more than most people realize, because they didn't want to think about. The result of that miscalculation was an explosion of inexpensive PC clones.12 Part of what's going on, of course, but educated people rarely did, because in those days of big companies often meant scurrying around trying to avoid losses, but by then it was too late. The industries themselves changed. One reason founders resist describing their projects concisely is that, at this early stage, there are no customs yet to guide you.13 It's a pattern we see over and over in technology. In a sense, they are.

It magnifies work. The second big element of Web 2. They are to the print media, or trying to tack upwind by suing their customers, like Microsoft and the record labels. The patent pledge is in effect a narrower but open source Don't be evil, and of course Google set off the whole Ajax boom with Google Maps. Larry Page and Sergey Brin wanted to search the web. O'Reilly led a session intended to figure out how to make them cheaply; many more get built; and as a result they can be swapped out for another supplier. Promising new startups are often discovered by developers.14 Isn't computer technology something that changes very rapidly? But it was going to happen—whatever Web 2. And in fact, don't even ask for their email address unless you need to do.15 Within large organizations, the phrase used to describe this approach is industry best practice, and the company loses, he can't be blamed.16 And yet while there are clearly a lot of words on a slide, people just skip reading it.

Notes

Successful founders are effective. None at all. If you actually started acting like adults.

That's the trouble with fleas, they would probably be multiple blacklists.

Until recently even governments sometimes didn't grasp the cachet that term had. The reason Google seemed a bad deal. To be fair, the effort that would help Web-based applications, and they were only partly joking.

While the first year or two make the hiring point more strongly. Google's site.

Ii. Oddly enough, even if we think we're as open as one could reasonably be with children, we're going to need common sense when intepreting it. FreeBSD and stored their data in files. You'd think they'd have taken one of the junk bond business by Michael Milken; a new, much more dangerous than any of his first acts as president, and that's much harder to fix once it's big, plus they are to be a good product.

Bureaucrats manage to allocate research funding moderately well, but a lot like intellectual bullshit. As always, tax rates has a significant effect on returns, but if you make something hackers use. I'm writing about one specific, rather technical sense of mission. FreeBSD and stored their data in files.

Eighteen months later. If you walk into a few actual winners emerge with hyperlinear certainty.

We Getting a Divorce?

I warn about later: beware of getting credit for what she has done to painting may be even larger than the set of canonical implementations of the business, or a community, or working in middle management at a time, default to some fairly high walls between most of them. Hackers don't need its reassurance. The meaning of a liberal education than past generations have.

Many of these limits could be pleasure in a way in which practicing talks makes them better: reading a draft of this model was that the investments that failed, and when you ad lib you end up.

Steven Hauser. Inside their heads a giant house of cards is tottering.

On the way investors say No. They don't make users register to get into a significant effect on college admissions there would be a good chance that a skilled vine-dresser was worth 8,000 sestertii e.

You've gone from guest to servant.

I say is being compensated for risks he took earlier.

The undergraduate curriculum or trivium whence trivial consisted of Latin grammar, rhetoric, and all those 20 people at once, and mostly in Perl, and wisdom the judgement to know how the courses they took might look to an adult.

There is a shock at first, to allow multiple urls in a non-corrupt country or organization will be, yet. You owe them such updates on your board, there would be investors who rejected you did that they'd really be a lot of the most dramatic departure from the study. Doing things that don't include the cases where VCs don't invest, regardless of the tube. What should you do it.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #practice #things #Web #president #effect #sense #courses #evidence #everyone #straw #barbershop #something #screen #startup #sentence #Sergey #code #FreeBSD #users #session #sup #months #limit #companies #ad

[pelikinesis]

i’m having a really good time with the rpg campaign i’m running. my players are like, endearingly stupid. and i say this because i tend to make the exact same oversights that they make when i’m a player, so i feel a very unexpected sense of camaraderie considering that i’m on the other side of the table. it’s difficult to describe how different i am as a player vs. as a game master, but there’s a pretty big discrepancy, a peculiar tunnel-vision and something like self-absorption that comes from being a direct agent rather than an omnipotent referee.

as a player, i get caught up in hare-brained schemes concocted usually on a different continent than asking of the question of Why do this? so watching my friends do the same thing and just sitting back and having NPCs respond to their plans with either deadpan snarkiness or, more amusing to me, genuine but polite bafflement, is not only damn good fun, but way easier to run than combat. It’s relaxing to me and stressful to the players at the same time, all while languidly wondering where they’re trying to go with this while they’re desperately wondering the exact same thing.

“Yes we could have your psychic child sidekick summon a Bloodcloud over the Fort you’re trying to infiltrate, and it will no doubt cast a, *ahem*, cloud of suspicion over the rulership of these lands. And no doubt people from the surrounding villages will then more readily rally to our banner to overthrow the Count once his mad occultist son’s experiments have been brought to light. And perhaps the Bloodcloud will also provide a portal for daemons to enter into the material plane and wreak havoc on the fort. But I’m not quite sure how this fits into what you said earlier when you agreed to a truce with the Count due to the Ork army advancing on these lands as a whole. Am I missing something here?’

i mean, deadpan snark comes way more naturally to me, and that’s probably one of the reasons i find it less funny. but i still throw it in here and  there mostly to contrast the polite bafflement.

i also realized during this last session that i initially planned on doing something that could probably be described as railroading, which i think is a very loaded and imprecise term generally speaking, and evaluating whether or not it’s a good idea (as opposed to just assuming it’s bad as soon as it’s labelled as railroading) is contingent upon, amongst other things, the question of Why? To what end, from what motivational source is the GM deciding to directly drive the plot? How long is the drive? Where is the destination? What fuels this trip?

And what i slowly realized was that the reason i’d planned on railroading this past session was because I assumed my players hadn’t come up with a plan, and i wanted to accelerate the plot so it could get ‘to the good part’ which in this case meant a dramatic meeting i ultimately didn’t have faith my PCs would be able to make happen on their own.

and there’s some degree of reason to that. i’ve played with people who take meticulous notes. i’ve played with people who regularly, in-character, try to get everyone to pause and take stock of their situation, of recent developments, of their plans, and so on. neither of the players in my current campaign do those things. and so we have golden moments like those i’ve described previously. 

but what it means is that the plot gets filled with...filler. characters going through a lot of trouble, danger, and hurt, and then realizing it was completely unnecessary, or for trivial reasons. conversations that only end with people realizing they have no idea what’s going on. and the part of me that is predisposed to seeing my RPG as a story i am writing thinks no! this is bad! nothing is happening so it must be boring! 

and a lot of that is fueled by a lack of faith in my players. but the fact of the matter is, even when i think about this on a selfish level, i definitely enjoy running these Adult Swim-esque sessions where nothing remotely clever or heroic takes place. if my players want a more driven narrative, then they realize it’s up to them to make that happen. if they become more detail-oriented, more confident in who their characters are, then the pace of the game will change accordingly.

but as long as they’re bumbling around, that’s its own kind of fun. and there are certainly consequences, and i usually find the time to explain why things turn out suboptimally. if you only choose destructive, area-of-effect spells for your spellcaster, you end up resorting to violence and causing collateral damage, and now an entire town hates you because you’ve done this more than once. if you’re relationally obtuse in part because your character isn’t socially skilled, NPCs have no incentive to leave open lines of communication, closing off opportunities you would’ve otherwise had to achieve your goals. i learned that one from real life. 

but i noticed, in the latter half of this past session, that while i was correct about my players not having concocted any prior plans for their self-imposed sidequest, they were actively engaged in attempting to create a plan in the moment that would make the sidequest payoff. i mean, it was tangent after tangent as they continually forgot about truces, armies, and so on, but it was fun. telling them their ideas are stupid from the position of a GM is mean-spirited, self-indulgent, and pointless. implying that their ideas are stupid from the position of a bewildered but cooperative merchant is hilarious, because they come to that conclusion themselves. 

so i don’t really know how things are going to go next session, but that’s part of the fun of this hobby. it’s not terribly difficult to shuffle around my plans and let the narrative flow around until it reaches a plausible shape. and this time, my players recognized they didn’t really have a good plan. but they had some sort of plan. and a lack of exhaustive preparation now doesn’t mean they’ll put in genuine improvisational effort in the moment next week. so this campaign is going to play out like a Star Wars/Indiana Jones party making their way through a Game of Thrones setting (in terms of attributes as well as thematically).

and that’s okay. the PCs are powerful and versatile enough that it’s possible everything will work out in some wacky and wonderful way. it’s also entirely possible their venture will fail horribly. but by this point we definitely have an understanding between my GMing style (permissive to the point of indulgence in regards what they can *try* to do, but not super merciful in buffering them from the consequences of their decisions), and their playstyle (vore jokes and ritual scarification. usually not at the same time.)

[mahou-furbies]

On Cornelia and Caleb’s relationship

A few years ago I wrote this post on Cornelia and Caleb's relationship for a blog I was going to start (in Finnish). I ended up never publishing it and it looks like that blog will never take off, so here's a translated version.

Re-reading W.i.t.c.h. took a surprising turn when I noticed I was paying exceptionally much attention to Cornelia's romance. In some other situation I might find her love story boring and cliched, but it was so different to the other romances in the series that I ended up taking a closer look at it.

The romantic adventures of the other girls are typical teen crushes and therefore more or less relatable to the readers. Irma is hungry for romance but to her dismay only the local nerd is interested in her, and Taranee has trouble with her strict mother who disapproves of her ex-delinquent boyfriend. Meanwhile Will and Hay Lin find their own nice (and boring) boys-next-door. Compared to these middle school crushes Cornelia's classic romance with the fantasy world denizen Caleb stands out.

The cool and sensible Cornelia doesn't moon over boys like the other four girls. From time to time she may ponder that some dude she sees doesn't look all that shabby, but she would definitely not want to be caught fantasising over a crush. However, in reality she's a bigger romantic than the rest of the girls put together, because her reason for being single is the man she saw in a strangely realistic off screen dream. Cornelia is convinced that the dream prince is The One, and therefore isn't interested in anyone else.

While doing her magical girl thing in the fantasy world of Meridian Cornelia meets a resistance movement, whose leader Caleb turns out to be her dream prince. The other inhabitants of Meridian are various lizard people, but Caleb is of course of course a handsome man in a long flowy coat. He feels like he's been designed to be the dream dude for the readers, as he's a responsible and polite hero from another world who swears love to his sweetheart.

During the short first meeting they gaze into each other's eyes, hold hands and speak deep words about how they were fated to meet. The later meetings continue in a similar dramatic way; the couple has time to be together only for a moment before the plot forces them apart, so they are crammed full of feelings and grandiloquent praise for the power of love. Cornelia and Caleb saw each other a lot less than I had remembered. The relationship is a large part of Cornelia's character in the early part of the series, so I had thought that they had a bit more interaction, but when you really think about it their romance is mostly based on short intensive moments, and the time they spent together can probably be counted in minutes.

Cornelia and Caleb manage to meet only twice before the big turning point in their relationship, where at the end of the first story arc the bad guy turns Caleb into a flower. After losing her beloved, Cornelia is devastated and is left alone with her problems, since she can't talk about her magical adventures with her parents, and while her magical girl friends mean well, they can't properly sympathise with her sorrow and their attempts at helping end up being unintentionally (and also intentionally) tactless. Cornelia isolates herself in her room to take care of the Flower Caleb, and in the end manages to revive him with the power of magic and (of course) love. The reunion is about as passionate as possible for a children's comic.

However, it doesn't take long before Caleb is captured by the new villain and after being freed has to fight for his life in the healing ward. This of course causes more pain for Cornelia, but this time she makes it through with less drama. She also starts to doubt the power of her love when a memory spell makes her temporarily forget about Caleb's predicament. Caleb on the other hand gets strength from remembering his hometown.

When Caleb is back in full health the couple gets to sort out their relationship during the climax of the arc. Cornelia start to question how functional their romance is and brings up a topic which has been under the the reader's nose all the time but which nobody in the story has mentioned: when Cornelia and Caleb meet, Cornelia has always been in her more adult witch form. After seeing Cornelia's true form Caleb immediately starts to reconsider his thoughts about a shared future and starts to ask if Cornelia could be able to keep up with a soldier like him.

Cornelia is offended at Caleb's belittling words, and for a good reason if you ask me. Caleb has spent around a half of the time he's been present in the story as a completely helpless damsel in distress, while Cornelia is a part of the elite warrior team of the universe and has survived quite a many adventures over the twenty comic issues so far. But in the end Caleb makes it clear that the rift between them is too large and that the relationship is over.

Since I'm no fan of sappy romances, the cynical attitude the series has toward's Cornelia's love story interests me a lot. Just churning out dramatic love confessions to the darling chosen by fate isn't enough when there has been so little actual communication that you don't know even the most central parts of the other person's life. However, the series shows that the relationship wasn't entirely meaningless, when at the climax of the fight the villain's spell is broken by Cornelia's love for Caleb rather than the power of friendship. Which I find peculiar since for the most part the series leans heavily on the friendship between the girls while boyfriends come and go. Though Cornelia's romance had been a large part of the story so I find it should play a part in the arc finale somehow, and probably giving it some attention consoles the fans of the pairing at least a little.

I also find it fun how childish the romance of the noble and proper Cornelia is in the end compared to the more casual love adventures her friends go through. On the surface Cornelia's romance may seem more mature than the relationship drama of the other girls: Cornelia and Caleb talk about their feelings straightforwardly and without getting embarrassed, and thanks to Cornelia's witch form their body language seems more mature. But when you really think about it, Cornelia's instant romance with a dream prince resembles Disney's Sleeping Beauty or some other young girl's daydream about a secret fantasy boy.

While I find the idea for the relationship interesting, I think that the execution starts to worsen towards the end. Cornelia's worry about if Caleb is ready for big life chances for her comes out of nowhere even when there was plenty of time to build it up. Instead half a dozen magazines are spent on Cornelia just yearning for Caleb the same way as earlier every now and then. Caleb's sudden chance of mind is a bit easier to understand when he realises that his girlfriend is actually younger than he thought, but a complete 180 during just one panel and beating around the bush with excuses still make him come across quite a douche. Which is probably the intention: I find that the story clearly takes Cornelia's side rather than tries to tackle the issue in an impartial manner.

The backwash of the relationship is handled with varying quality. Considering how quick the break up was and how burning Cornelia's feelings had been to that point it feels insufficient that we only see her grieving for one page, after which she more or less accepts the situation. But on the other hand I wouldn't care to roll in the angst of a dumped teen for too long so maybe it's better to have too little of it rather than too much. And the scene where after returning to her home world Cornelia conjures a house for a hobo because she wants to do a good deed is beautiful in its simpleness, so I guess the surprisingly mature recovery has its good side as well.

After this Caleb disappears to the background and Cornelia's broken heart is only mentioned in passing but still often enough to remind that a powerful romance isn't forgotten immediately. But the ultimate getting over happens very hastily, when Cornelia and Caleb meet after some twenty issues and the "we noticed we can still be friends!" message is rushed through in a couple of narrator boxes.

A special issue that was published later reveals in the form of a dream how things would have turned out if the couple had stayed together and either Cornelia or Caleb had moved to the other's world. Both cases end in tragedy: despite trying really hard Cornelia can't take the separation from her friends and family, while the independent Caleb can't adapt to a life of hiding from authorities since he has no id card and other documents. I like seeing a story that actually takes the relationship somewhere in this manner, but it feels a little depressing when the failure of the relationship is shown like it was unavoidable fate. Though it's hard to tell how canon the extra stories should be counted (since most of them are activity books and summer diaries etc and the issues that contain actual comics are trivial filler), but it's not like a "what if" dream story like this would affect anything anyway.

On the whole it's difficult for me to deal with the multiple writers of a western comic since I'm very obsessed with canon and in the world of manga I'm used to having only one person in charge of the story whose word is the truth and everything else is secondary. W.i.t.c.h. having multiple writers isn't a problem in this regard since the story doesn't really contradict itself, but it'd still be interesting to know how much of Cornelia and Caleb's romance is from the writer who originally created the relationship and how much is invented by the other writers. Was the relationship doomed from the start? I've seen rumours on the internet about how Caleb appeared in the story when there were demands to make drastic changes to the story from upstairs. So maybe Caleb wasn't a part at all in the original creator's vision.

After the breakup W.i.t.c.h. has over a hundred issues and you can check the internet that both Cornelia and Caleb find a new love interest. For Cornelia it's a romance with an ordinary Earth boy. I'm almost interested enough to check if the fantasy romance left any marks on Cornelia, but due to the overall decrease in quality of the series I predict that the new relationship will tread more familiar teenage crush roads.

#w.i.t.c.h. #cornelia hale #my stuff #long post is long #why did I write such an essay on them I don't even like the pairing #ramble ramble

[ficswithrimi]

Golden (Part 9)

First: Part 1

Last: Part 8

Next: Part 10

Wanna talk to Golden and get to know him? OR EXPOSE HIM? Then follow @goldenrecs

A/N: IT’S THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! GOLDEN PART 9! Sorry for almost the year long wait. Yikes. If you thought things were spicy in part 8 JUST READ THIS PART! Also, thanks to all my followers who stuck with me in this long hiatus and gave me courage through the tough times I had earlier in the year. I truly love you all and hope you still with me til the end. ALSO FicsWithRimi is my new URL. IGOT7BTS-SCENARIOS is dead cuz well.. I don’t just write for kpop anymore? Okay enough babbling. ENJOY GOLDEN PART 9! Also listen to this. Bye.

         Chloe and you never had serious fights. Sure, there had been times when both of you got angry at one another. Like, for instance, the time when Chloe accidentally told your mother that you lost your virginity in high school or when you accidentally ripped Chloe’s favorite green crop top that she swore on her grandmother’s grave was lucky – she claimed it was what helped her get into college. Still, those times and the others were nothing too dramatic. You always felt like your friendship was too strong to get mad at each other over trivial things like middle schoolers. Chloe was hot-tempered and – let’s just all admit it – wild. She did some pretty outrageous things and got angered quickly over others. Still, she’d always come back to her senses once having a few hours to cool off. So, with that logic, you were almost certain Chloe would return the next day after you guys little fight from the night your friends and you went out to dinner. However, the day turned into a week and suddenly it was the end of midterm week and you both had one final midterm to complete in creative writing. You hoped she would show up to the midterm today since she hasn’t been to class all week and even missed the review day. You hadn’t physically seen her in the dorm room you shared but you assumed she’s been in there in your absence since some of her stuff have been disappearing all week. However, you knew you’d definitely make contact with her today considering she left her room key on the bathroom counter. You noticed it this morning when getting ready to go to your final midterm. You planned out everything in your head. You’d try to finish the midterm around the same time as her and try to catch her in the hall. There, you’d quickly show her that you had her key, which she’d no doubt would try to snatch from your grasp, and you’d explain to her the entire Namjoon situation and pray that she’d be understanding. If she cooperated – which she should – then you’d finally give her the key back and hug it out like the best friends you were.

         Chloe must’ve liked Namjoon more than you originally thought. She would never behave like this towards you for any other guy. In fact, she’d probably own up to whatever guy she liked that, yeah, she had a blog about her feelings for them and what were they going to do about it? Nothing. That’s what. However, after this entire incident, you knew to Chloe, Namjoon was more than just a temporary crush. She held legitimate feelings for the man. Though she showed it in outrageous ways, it was all sincere.

         Sighing, you rinsed your mouth from brushing your teeth and grabbed Chloe’s key off the counter and exited the bathroom. As you walked over to your desk to grab your things to begin your walk to your midterm, there was a knock on the door. Who was up at 6am other than the other students who had 8am midterms? More so, why were at your door at 6am? Suddenly, you looked down at the key in your hand and remembered Chloe. She must’ve finally realized she didn’t have her key and came back to retrieve it. This would work out perfectly. Instead of trying to talk to her after the midterm, you’d just explain things to her now and maybe you guys could walk to creative writing together. Quickly, you slung your bookbag over your shoulder and rushed to the door.

         “Chloe – oh…” The smile on your face turned into a frown as Park Jimin leaned sleepily on your doorframe.

         “I would comment on how you’re not happy to see me but it’s too damn early…” He yawned as he pulled himself off the frame and held his hand out. “I need Chloe’s dorm room key.”

         You bit the inside of your cheek. Did she really send Jimin here to fetch her key for her? “Uh… it’s okay. I can give it to her after our midterm.”

         Hearing this caused Jimin to perk up a little. “I don’t think you fully understand how pissed she is at you. Like she’d held some pent-up anger for a while and this Namjoon thing has set her off.”

         “I wasn’t even the one who told Namjoon about the blog!” You threw your hands up in the air. “Look, I’m going to explain everything to her after the midterm today.”

         “She already took the midterm. She made some excuse of how she had to leave early to go home for fall break because her cat is sick and your professor felt bad for her so she let her take it early,” Jimin rolled his eyes. You both knew Chloe didn’t own a cat. However, it was just like Chloe to use that excuse. In the beginning of the semester, when showing an example of how the blogs should be, your professor admitted her love for cats and showed off her blog dedicated to them.

         “So, if she’s gone, why does she need her key?” You arched a brow at the brown-haired boy. He let out a heavy sigh.

         “I don’t know. She leaves today. I guess she needs to get some things before taking off,” Jimin shrugged. “Just give me the key. Don’t you two live in the same city? Just meet up over break and talk things out, geez.”

         “Where is she now?”

         “I can’t disclose that information…” He turned his gaze to the ceiling. Frowning you yanked him by his shirt and bought him down to your height.

         “Park Jimin, tell me where she is.”

         “Don’t you have a midterm to attend?” He asked as he tried to pry your fingers off him. Geez, why did he have such violent girl friends? Sighing you let him go and handed over the key. There was honestly no use in talking to Chloe right now. If she had Jimin come retrieve her belongings, then that mean she was still highly upset with you. Still, you needed to talk to her about the situation. That, and you haven’t even told her about your meeting – date – with Taehyung tonight.

         “Thanks for the key, see you later,” Jimin said as he began walking off. He stopped suddenly before turning back to you. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”

         “It’s not a date,” You grumbled as you slammed your dorm room door shut behind you.

GoldenRecs: How does Creative Writing even have a midterm? I have no idea. No recommendations until Friday after exams. Sorry. If you’re in my CW class, let’s meet up to study, okay? :)

         You sighed as you scrolled through Golden’s blog while waiting for your professor to arrive to begin the midterm. You secretly hoped he would have his recommendation up already before creative writing so some stress would be relieved. However, that wasn’t the case. Looking up, you saw Taehyung and Jungkook sitting beside one another. You decided to steer clear of the two in class since you were still unsure of which one was Golden and VMusic95. They just thought that you were more comfortable with sitting in the back than the front. Well, Taehyung assumed that. Jungkook just stared at you which made your face heat up in a blush. You didn’t know what it was about the boy that made you slightly nervous.

Your heart leapt at the sight of them sharing earbuds. From what you could see, they were listening to songs on each other’s phone. Taehyung must’ve agreed to whatever he was listening to on Jungkook’s phone as he turned to the boy and gave him two thumbs up. Jungkook just nodded at him before turning his attention back to his phone. Sighing, you opened your blog back up to see if Vmusic95 responded to the message you sent him earlier in the week. On Monday, while trying to stalk Chloe’s blog, you immediately realized you were blocked as her blog said you didn’t have permission to view her blog. Honestly, if Chloe would just listen then she’d understand this entire situation and see she’s upset at you for no reason. After not knowing how to approach Chloe, you turned to the other mysterious blog who you agreed to be friends with. Sometimes it was nice to receive advice from complete strangers. Well, he wasn’t a complete stranger…

You glanced up at Jungkook one more time as he began to put his phone and stuff away because the professor arrived. Quickly, you glanced back down to open your messages to see if he replied. As usual, you had to scroll past all the anon hate you received on almost a daily basis because of Golden. The wave of hate swarmed in over the weekend because people were upset that Golden referred to you as his friend.

Anon: So just to clarify, is y/n your friend? Or just someone you know and happen to follow back?

GoldenRecs: A friend.

         Apparently, even to be friends with Golden was a crime to these people. God forbid they ever find out the other mysterious person who Golden talked to on an almost daily basis. They were an anon who only referred to themselves as E.M. You didn’t want to assume it was a girl but you did and it made you quite upset. Even if it wasn’t a girl, you still felt jealous. They could easily talk to Golden while you were too nervous to even send him a hi. He claimed you guys were friends but yet, you found yourself shying away when trying to talk to him. Maybe it was because he was so popular or… it was just the obvious feelings you had for the guy.

DancerCookies: Hey… care to offer advice? My friend is upset at me over something I had no control over and she thinks I did it. What should I do?

VMusic95: Hm… your friend sounds… difficult. No offense! Why don’t you guys talk things out like adults? I mean, we’re college kids, after all. If she’s not willing to cooperate, then is she a friend? Also, off topic, but I can’t wait to officially meet you in four weeks when we reveal ourselves!

         We. We as in Golden and him. Four weeks was all that remained of the semester. Four weeks was all you had left until you’d finally see Taehyung admit he was Golden to the class – and university – that was obsessed with him and his blog. Four weeks until you had to make a final decision on your major and what you planned to do for the rest of your life.

“Y/N here,” Your classmate tapped you on the shoulder with the exam papers. Snapping out of your thoughts, you thanked them and took the paper.

Four weeks seemed like it was just around the corner and you weren’t prepared for everything that was about to be thrown at you.

         “Woo! I can’t wait to go home for break!” Taehyung shouted excitedly as he and Jungkook exited their creative writing midterm. “That was my last one. How about you?”

“I have one more…” Jungkook said as he pulled out his phone to check the plethora of messages he was positive he had received while taking the 30-minute midterm.

“Ah, Golden is always buzzing, huh?” Taehyung playfully bumped Jungkook’s shoulder only to receive a glare from the younger boy.

“Way to say that aloud in public,” He frowned. Taehyung just defensively put up his hands and laughed it off.

         “Sorry. So hey, I’m meeting with Y/N tonight,” Taehyung changed the topic. At the mention of the girl’s name, Jungkook’s fingers froze in place from responding to one of his messages. He had temporarily forgotten that Taehyung had a date with her tonight.

“Yeah…” He said slowly as he tried to regain his concentration on his phone.

“I wanna take her somewhere cool before we go on fall break so she can think of me all weekend!” Taehyung grinned.

“You’re hanging around Jimin too much,” Jungkook rolled his eyes and began to walk in the direction of his dorm.

Taehyung quickly walked in front of Jungkook to stop him from walking and to pay attention to him. “You talk to her, right? What does she like to do?”

Jungkook blinked at the man in front of him. Why was he asking him for advice about where to take someone? Sure, Jungkook had a past with being popular with ladies – he still is – despite being shy, still, Taehyung had far more experience in the dating department than he did. Was he really that into Y/N? And if he was, how would he let him know he was into her as well? It’s only been a couple weeks but the time he’s spent with her has been amazing. He was still upset that Taehyung was able to ask the girl to hang out alone before he was.

“Uh… she likes to dance. She’s a great dancer, in fact! And she cooks well, apparently,” Jungkook shrugged. “Also, she doesn’t hold liquor well so try to avoid alcohol…”

“Thanks – hey – how do you know she doesn’t hold alcohol well?” Taehyung arched a brow at the boy. His face flushed as he shrugged again.

“Uh… I was near her at the party when it got to her…”

“Ah, that’s right. So dancing and cooking, huh? I just need to know a couple of things about her to talk to her about at dinner. Thanks for the advice! I’m gonna go catch some sleep before going to pick her up later! You’re going home after your last midterm, right? Good luck,” Taehyung waved to Jungkook as he took off in the direction of his own dorm. Jungkook let out a heavy sigh as he looked up to the clear sky above him. How has this girl who was supposed to be no one but Namjoon’s good friend and an acquaintance to the rest of the boys gone and stole two of their hearts in the course of three weeks? Jungkook didn’t know but he did know one thing.

He couldn’t let Taehyung have her.

Hi! You’ve reached Chloe. I’m not answering my phone for reasons but I’ll call you back later. Maybe. Don’t count on it. Unless you’re my mom.

You sighed as you hung up the phone. You’ve been trying to reach Chloe since you got out of your midterm. Vmusic95 was right about talking things out – though you already thought of doing that already – and if Chloe wasn’t willing to talk then maybe you guys weren’t as close as you thought you guys were. She’s been there through thick and thin for you since you’ve known her and you’d hate to see it all go down the drain over a misunderstanding. Opening your phone again, you decided to check Golden’s blog for an update. However, nothing was updated except for a few messages he answered. Inhaling a deep breath, you decided to message him. You needed a good song recommendation today and usually he was spot on about your feelings whether he knew it or not. That’s one of the reasons you crushed on him. He was somehow in tune with you.

DancerCookies: It's Friday... could really use a song recommendation right about now lol...

Logging out of the app, you looked at the time. You had to finish packing for the weekend before getting ready to go out with Taehyung. Glancing at your half-packed bag beside you, you decided to give Chloe another call first.

Hi! You’ve reached Chloe...

         Taehyung didn’t mention where you guys were going so you honestly didn’t know what to wear. So, you based your outfit off the chilly autumn air. You figured wherever you guys ended up going, it would lead into the night since it was already in the evening. You ended up wearing a mustard colored light sweater, distressed jeans, and your favorite pair of Timbs. After applying a bit of makeup, you checked yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It was a simple but cute outfit. You didn’t want to give him the impression that you put too much thought in your outfit even if you really did. You were going out with Golden after all. Your heart leapt at the fact. If you weren’t so scared to stand up to the hate you got on your blog, you’d most definitely tease the desperate girls who planned to ask Golden out once he revealed himself. But… weren’t you also one of those girls?

         You were in the same position as the other girls who crushed on the mysterious blogger. What made you any different from the rest of them besides the fact that maybe – just maybe – you might know his true identity? Other than that, you still didn’t know who he was - you crushed on an almost complete stranger - and your crush was based only on his suave online personality and music taste just like the other girls on his blog. Still, there had to be something about you that made you different, right? He did decide to be your friend. Or maybe that was just because of Namjoon and Jimin influencing him to befriend you?

         You shook the thoughts from your head as you heard a knock from the door. He was here. Snatching your room key off your desk, you ran to the door and answered it. There stood Taehyung in a green sweater with a light brown jacket over it and baggy jeans. He grinned his square shaped grin at you as a blush creeped up on your face.

         “Ready to go?” He asked excitedly.

         “Uh yeah,” You shyly smiled at him as you fully stepped out of your dorm and shut the door behind you.

         “Great! I hope you know how to skate!”

         And with that the smile faded from your face.

         Roller skating wasn’t your thing. It wasn’t your thing when you were five and fell face down on the pavement at your aunt’s house and bled in multiple places. It wasn’t your thing at your 12th birthday party when you tried to give it another chance and ended up falling on your ass in front of your crush. You expected a fairy tale situation to happen when you fell and he’d quickly come to rescue you but instead he laughed until he had to gasp for air. And roller skating definitely wasn’t your thing now.

         There was a rink on the other side of campus. It was a rundown place considering it was built when the Disco was still popular and the bright neon colors painted on the building was now chipping off to reveal the aged white paint underneath. You remember your mom telling you stories about how she’d get her college friends to help sneak her in since back then it only permitted college kids. The inside had a decent wooden skating rink that had seen better days and desperately needed a good polishing. The multicolored polka dot carpet was also aged and gave the place a smell of mildew and sweat that’s been concentrated there for decades. It frightened you to even think about putting your feet in the rental skates. If the place looked like this, just imagined the condition of the skates. But, you were going to make the best of the situation. You were here with Taehyung. Taehyung who was supposedly Golden.

         “Hey, I’m gonna go to the restroom really quick,” Taehyung smiled at you as you tied up your skates.

         “You’re gonna pee while in skates?” You blinked at him. If you were to do that, you’d probably end up giving yourself an unintentional swirly.

         “Yeah, it’s no big deal,” He grinned at you before skating off towards the restrooms. Sighing, you scooted back further onto the wooden bench you sat upon. How was this evening going to play out? The last thing you needed was to break anything. That and you’d hate to embarrass yourself in front of the almost perfect Golden.

Bzz. Bzz.

         You reached into your pocket to retrieve your phone to read your notification. It was probably your mom wondering what time were you going to arrive at the bus station tomorrow. Clicking on your phone, your eyes widened at the notification from the blogging app.

         GoldenRecs has replied to your message: 37 seconds ago

         You glanced up to the restrooms and saw Taehyung had yet to appear. Did he excuse himself to reply to the message you sent him earlier? Not wasting another second, you clicked on the notification to open the app.

         GoldenRecs: Your wish will be granted soon, princess.

         Immediately your face flushed a deep red from the nickname. Princess? What had gotten into Golden? The hate was going to be strong now. Of course, he could’ve meant it in a sarcastic way as to say, “don’t rush me,” but somehow you knew he didn’t mean it in that context.

         “Hey, ready to get your skate on?” Taehyung smiled as he gracefully glided over to you. You instantly looked up and shoved your phone back into your pocket and stood up. To your dismay, you immediately began to lose your balance on the skates and wobbled slightly. Taehyung quickly reached for your arm to help balance you and you threw him an apologetic look.

         “Sorry, I’m a really horrible skater,” You rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

         “It’s okay, you can just hold on to me the entire time, okay?” He winked at you as he led you to the floor. Meanwhile you tried to use your hair to cover the blood red blush on your face.

         “You’re doing great,” Taehyung grinned as he looked down to your hands that were clutching onto his arm tightly.

         “My legs are going to give out any second,” You said through gritted teeth as you focused on the ground below you. The back of your calves was on fire which surprised you. You thought since you were a dancer and highly flexible you wouldn’t feel pain from lack of stretching but here you are struggling – dying – to complete the fifth go around on the roller rink. The place wasn’t too crowded besides a couple of fellow university students who probably didn’t have plans to go home for the short break. So, with that you didn’t have to worry about accidentally bumping into someone and causing everyone to tumble over – something that actually happened when you were 17. Like you said, skating just wasn’t your thing.

         “You wanna take a break,” Worry filled Taehyung’s eyes as he slowed down some. You were about to nod your head until a familiar song came on the speakers. It was Tori Kelly’s Paper Hearts. Also, known as the song you stretched to before beginning a dance. It was easily your favorite song. Sometimes you and Jimin would bellow the song out loudly around Chloe to annoy her. She loved the song but just not when you guys sung it.

         “Wait, let’s skate to this song then take a break?” You said as you held tightly onto Taehyung as you shook out your legs to prepare them to go around the rink for the duration of the song. Taehyung nodded as he kicked off to start skating again.

         “So, you like this song too, huh?” He asked as he looked down at you. For the first time a small smile was on your face as you focused your attention in front of you instead of on the floor. This caused a smile to appear on Taehyung’s face also. You were honestly an adorable girl.

         “Yeah! Jimin told me about it! I love it! I stretch to it before every dance I do!”

         “Jungkook likes this song, too! He randomly started listening to it a couple of weeks ago.”

         You felt your heart pang at the mention of the younger boy’s name. Why did it do that? “Yeah, it’s an amazing song, right?”

         “Eh, it’s okay. Not really my style,” Taehyung shrugged as you two rounded a corner. The smile that was on your face faltered a little at his answer. This song was definitely down Golden’s alley. At least you thought so anyway. Maybe you didn’t know Golden’s style of music as well as you had initially thought. Shaking it off, you returned your smile and glanced up at Taehyung.

         “So Tae, you’re a junior, right? What’s your major?”

         “Theater major and music minor. I wanna be on Broadway,” He smiled proudly. You stared at him in awe for a second as you imagined him on stage performing. There’s no doubt he’d be phenomenal. Your second of admiration ended quickly, though, as you began to trip up on your skates.

         “Careful,” Tae laughed as he gripped onto you tighter. You just sheepishly laughed as you tried to shake off your embarrassment. “What’s your major? Dance? Jungkook told me you danced… and cooked.”

         This time your smile completely fell. You haven’t thought about your major at all this week because of midterms, the fallout with Chloe, and this date. What were you going to tell him? You were undecided? It wouldn’t be a lie but how would he view you? Would he see you as someone who didn’t have their life together? You were a smart girl it’s just, making a final decision now that would determine your future was frightening. Sure, there were plenty of college students who were undecided but this wasn’t like you. You were always so sure about your life but this… you just weren’t sure about. And it deeply bothered you. Even Chloe, who wasn’t even planning on going to college, had her major declared and was literally in love with it. That was another fear. What if you chose something and ended up hating it? You loved dancing and cooking but what if once you really began to study it, you begin to hate it? Honestly, you couldn’t live without one or the other. And what about your mom and grandmother? They both want you to pursue different paths. How could you choose without disappointing one of them?

         “Undecided?” Taehyung asked suddenly, snapping you from your thoughts.

         “Ah… yeah… how’d you know?”

         “You started skating perfectly all of a sudden,” Taehyung laughed as you quickly looked down to see that, in fact, you were skating without any mishaps. “When you don’t think about it and let it happen naturally, you skate just fine. Anyways, also I know because you looked stressed all of a sudden.”

         “Ah…” You said as you frowned slightly.

         “It’s okay. Don’t stress it. You’ll figure it out.”

         “Yeah but-“

         “Hey! The song’s over! Wanna grab something to eat?” Taehyung said, cutting you off. You just nodded before he began to lead you off the floor. Biting your lip, you looked at him. Why were you disappointed suddenly? You wanted to ask how he decided on his major – how he’d know it was the right choice for him? Golden for sure would offer a piece of advice and how he conquered his problems. Why did Taehyung just… brush it off? Was Golden just an online persona for him? How could the same person be so… different?

         Jungkook sighed as he laid on his bed in his darkened dorm room. His roommate had left earlier in the day to return home so that left Jungkook to become lost in his thoughts. He could’ve gone to visit Jimin or Namjoon but he just didn’t feel like dealing with people. Instead, he wondered what Taehyung and Y/N were doing on their date. He had received her message earlier and made sure to reply when he was sure she was near Taehyung. Jungkook secretly hoped Golden would be all she could think about while with the older man since he purposefully called her “princess.” He even secretly dedicated another recommendation to her. She seemed so stressed over choosing a major and her midterms and he felt the need to reassure her on things. That, and Jimin accidentally let it slip that her and her best friend weren’t speaking currently because of Namjoon or something. So Jungkook felt it would a perfect indirect response to her feelings:

This Week’s Recommendation: IU - Beautiful Dancer

Shout out to my wife for making this beautiful song. Know what else is beautiful? You guys. If something is bothering you or you’re unsure of yourself, just know you can do ANYTHING you put your mind to and overcome ALL obstacles life throws your way. Don’t give up. Don’t know what you wanna do with your life? You’ll figure something out. Don’t know how to handle an upsetting situation? It’ll work out eventually. Just don’t give up and keep fighting and smiling. See you all next Wednesday. Also, do any of you know a beautiful dancer? I know one :)

-Golden

         Letting out a groan, he grabbed his pillow and covered his head with it. Why did he call her princess? That was so out of character for him. Well, Golden is the more outgoing side of Jungkook but still. It was going to be embarrassing on the day of the final when he reveals himself to everyone – to her. She’d definitely remember the message. He would if he was her.

Bzz.

Bzz.

         Jungkook’s hand blindly felt around on his bed for his phone. Grabbing it and turning it on, he squinted his eyes from the screen’s bright glow. There were about 100 notifications from his blog and a text from his mom asking was he coming home tomorrow for fall break. Jungkook hadn’t planned on leaving but maybe going to spend time with his family would be a nice break from the stress of college. After responding to his mom with a, “yes,” he scrolled down his messages. His eyes immediately widened as he came across a message he received a couple of seconds ago.

         Anon: Your fave anon is here to bless you with her presence! But be quick, her bus for her city leaves in a few minutes! So let's make this quick, shall we, Golden? -NJsC

         What were they talking about? Jungkook blinked confusedly as he began to response to the message. They’ve been missing for weeks and suddenly they appear and leaves cryptic messages.

         GoldenRecs: Ah, my favorite stalker. Long time, no talk. Also what are we making quick? Are you going to quickly tell me what NJsC stands for, Nick Jonas Mysterious C?

         Jungkook reread over the message one more time after posting it to his blog. Usually Nick Jonas Mysterious C replied quickly so he kept refreshing his messages awaiting their reply. To his dismay, it didn’t seem like they were going to send another message. Just as Jungkook clicked off his phone there was a knock at his bedroom door and a vibration from his phone to signal a new message had arrived. It was probably Jimin coming to annoy him or something. He knew he shouldn’t have told him that he was just lounging around in his dorm. Jimin always took that as some sort of invitation to come over. He’d respond to NJsC’s new message after he shooed Jimin away.

         Hoping out of his bed, Jungkook dragged his feet to the door to open it. His eyes widened at he stared at the blonde woman standing in his door. She had an overstuffed backpack on her back that made it appear as if she was running away from home but Jungkook knew she was probably just going home for the weekend.

         “Uh… can I help you-“ Jungkook was shushed as the woman placed a finger on his lips to stop him from talking.

         “NJsC. Namjoon’s Chloe. I know who you are and now you know who I am,” Chloe said as she watched Jungkook’s eyes widened.

Anon: Count to five and I’ll appear… -NJsC

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts scenario #BTS jungkook #bts #jungkook fanfic #bangtan boys #bangtan scenarios #bangtan boys scenarios #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #jungkook golden #jimin #bts jimin #park jimin #kim namjoon #namjoon #rap monster #rapmon #bts rap mon #taehyung #tae #bts v #kim taehyung

[vox]

I trained myself to be less busy — and it dramatically improved my life

I am a robot, programmed to obliterate my to-do list. During the day, I direct a research laboratory, write papers, and teach classes as a professor of psychology at the University of Arizona. Come 4:30 pm, I run a kid limousine service, shuttling between various activities, preparing dinner, helping with homework and the evening routine. I scurry through these activities — often missing the moments of joy embedded in everyday life — until I have some sort of nightly electrical shortage, then crash out on the couch. I reboot in the morning and do it all again.

I am addicted to busyness. I am embarrassed to say it, largely because I am lucky to have a wonderful life, a great career and, to be fair, the struggles, demands, and slings-and-arrows are all of my own doing (especially the part about having kids; I know I was there for that).

I created this mess — a life at breakneck speed from the moment I wake until I finally watch 30 minutes of Netflix before drifting off. But, I recently hit rock bottom, feeling as if I was going through the motions of my life rather than truly living it.

I’m not the only one who feels overwhelmed — you probably do too

I don’t think I am alone in my feelings about busyness, nor do I think these feelings are especially new for the average working adult. I might be alone at my rock bottom, but there are many indicators that we are feeling more over-committed, over-scheduled, over-tired, and over-burdened than ever before.

Brigid Schulte, in her 2014 book, Overwhelmed, writes incisively about this trend, “So much do we value busyness, researchers have found a human ‘aversion’ to idleness and need for ‘justifiable busyness.’” My favorite example from her book: Researchers can track the rise of busyness in holiday cards dating back to the 1960s. In holiday cards, Americans used to share news about our lives (the joys and sorrows of the year), but now we’re more likely than ever to mention how busy we are as well.

As a clinical psychologist, I have worked with many people who are trying to make substantial changes — from improving a marriage to overcoming generalized anxiety or depression. The idea that these changes begin with acknowledging that there’s a problem is a truism. Personal responsibility is the vehicle for behavior change. When it came to my busyness, though, I had what might be described as extreme difficulty looking beyond the hamster wheel. (Professionally, people in my line of work call this “very little insight.”)

I don’t think I am busier than anyone else. My wife and friends are just as busy as me. I think the difference is that I became aware of my busyness and started hating it. I was feeling claustrophobic in my own life. I asked my wife if I could retire and get some time back in the day. (She said no.) Then, I started to wonder about the opposite of busyness. I thought immediately of the slow food movement. I needed a slow food movement in my everyday life.

I realized busyness had devoured my values

The first change took root for me about 18 months ago when the graduate program that I direct started teaching Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (pronounced as the single word ACT) to our doctoral students, who are future clinical psychologists. ACT is a scientifically-validated psychotherapy treatment for a range of mental health problems. Basically, it’s a form of talk therapy.

A central tenant of ACT is that emotional pain is driven in large part by getting over-involved in difficult experiences and thoughts (that is, going over-and-over things in our mind; getting stuck in our experiences; and being unable to create any psychological distance between yourself and the terribleness of things). Consequently, when we become stuck on or in our emotional pain, we go through each day in a way that is disconnected from our core values — the essential principles that, ideally, come to guide our lives. In ACT, value-centered living is paramount, and a big part of the treatment is to help people separate themselves from the painful language in their heads (“This is so awful. I feel so terrible.”) to get on with the business of living a meaningful life.

As I learned more about ACT and started incorporating its methods into my psychotherapy practice with clients, something important dawned on me: Busyness devoured my values. I was working, parenting, loving, emailing, and exercising in a sort of mindless way, just doing and doing. Busyness is not, nor was it ever, a guiding principle in my life. Yet, I had let the inertia of doing take deep root without realizing what was happening to me. To get more out of life — more meaning, more joie de vivre — I needed to start doing less and to become more conscious about my choices.

How I started to reclaim my life from busyness

I started with a simple value: being outside. I am a regular exerciser, but I was losing touch with being outside and moving my body through space. I began walking more, that’s all. It was not a hard change to make — I just park a little further from work and hoof it a bit more or I go for a nice stroll during lunch. It would not be an overstatement to say that an additional 40 minutes a day of walking just two or three times a week has changed me in a profound way. Walking provides time to think, to be energized by nature, and to feel less frenzied. Quite dramatically, I am much less of a robot and much more of a human being.

Next, I focused on valuing idleness. I do not mean being a sloth, only that I was coming to see the value of doing as little as possible for long periods of time. I just finished Tim Kreider’s incredibly thoughtful and hilarious book of essays, We Learn Nothing. The audiobook includes a bonus chapter entitled Laziness: A Manifesto. Kreider writes, “This busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness. Obviously your life cannot possibly be silly, or trivial, or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked every hour of the day. All this noise, and rush, and stress seem contrived to cover up some fear at the center of our lives.”

I cannot say if I my busyness was a hedge against some sort of existential emptiness, but all the doing certainly left me feeling empty in the end. Now, with idleness in mind, I just park myself on the couch as often as possible and see what happens. Mostly, I am looking for an opportunity to enjoy the moments of life in an unstructured way; I am looking for more play. In my idleness last night, I spent a long time just tickling my 5-year-old daughter, pretending to scare her, and lying on my back with her in “airplane position” while she perfected a move she called the hummingbird. That was the best half-hour of my year so far. What is more, I’ve found that the less I work, the better my work actually is in the end, from the ability to attend to students and clients to the creative energies needed for doing science.

As part of my effort to create time and space for doing less, I also got off Facebook. At first, I was simply trying to escape the toxicity of the election on social media. In time, though, I realized I was also escaping an attentional black hole, one with an incredible gravitational pull. I would never willfully stand in the middle of a room noisy room with everyone screaming for my attention, yet this is best metaphor I can think of to describe my mind on Facebook. I was weak and could not resist its forces, fair enough, but I also started to see it as filler and fluff. When I got past my FOMO and let it go, I gained many moments back in my day.

I’ve also tried to get serious about laughing more. For me, busyness’s neighbor is seriousness. Seriousness is over-rated, and I feel much healthier and even childlike when I am not taking myself so seriously, and when I am trying to make other people laugh.

Finally, my relationships. In my days of busyness, I loathed the work pop-in; too many unscheduled interruptions. Now, I’m coming to appreciate people dropping by to say hello and to joke around (see: laughter). My door is a little more open, so to speak. I am also focusing on my local drinking club, where a few friends have been going for beers together for several years. Sometimes, I am too busy and have to miss, but that really bothers me now. Friendships are sustenance, just like food.

Have I sustained these changes? Sort of. I am working as much as ever and find it hard to not get sucked into the trappings of busyness. Sometimes, I look at my schedule shout to myself, “Too much, too much!” When this is the case, I just go for a walk. Or, I just get on the floor and mess with my kids. Or, I follow the mantra of our club, “Relax, have a homebrew.” (If my busyness freak-out is in the morning, I do wait for the homebrew, in case you’re wondering. At least until lunch.)

By and large, though, I am feeling better than I have in a long time — more deliberate in the choices I make, more connected to the people around me, and more energized for the demands of the day. The surprising irony here, for me at least, is that by doing less, I am getting way more out life. I have banished my inner robot.

David Sbarra, PhD, is a professor of psychology at the University of Arizona. His new ebook, Love, Loss, and the Space Between, is available on Amazon.

#writing #essay #first person #stress #anxiety #health #mental health #science

[stretchemersonarchive]

My Pain Isn’t Your Punchline

By Julia Rouillard

Growing up with a chronic illness causes you to develop a thick skin. People misunderstand your disease. They make assumptions about it. They say wildly inaccurate things to your face, safe behind their mask of blissful ignorance and good intentions. I have type one diabetes, so usually people genuinely do have good intentions: a person who thinks you cannot eat sugar will buy you other food, they think they are bonding with you over the horror stories of their grandparent who they think had the same disease (it was actually type two), or they are assuring you how lucky you are that you do not have cancer. If you are like me, you take the path of reeducation and inform them that, essentially, all of the things they believe about my disease are wrong. Some people respond with silence, thinking that it is not even worth the energy to pay attention to misinformation. A third group gets angry at the injustice of constantly having to provide the same explanation, sometimes to the same people. The point is that these are everyday encounters; they happen, we pull out our go-to phrases and explanations, and then they are done. They are not enjoyable, and it is no doubt that there needs to be society-wide education, but they are most often not meant to insult.

Misinformation in itself is not the issue. It is unrealistic to expect every person on the planet to understand every facet of every disease; I am not naive enough to think that I am so special that I get to be privileged in that way. But, nowadays people get the majority of their information from the media. Conversely, they get their stereotypes and misconceptions from the same source as well. The misinformation that is presented in entertainment bleeds into everyday life. When diabetics are portrayed as overweight people who are either dependent on sugar or must be fiercely shielded from it, people start to believe that. It is why, when I tell people about my disease, they respond with, “Oh! My friend just got diabetes. I told her to stop eating so much candy!” Chronic illnesses are more than plot devices and (unoriginal) punchlines; however, they are trivialized in popular media to the point where even those affected by do not always see the issue.

***

TELEVISION SHOW: The Walking Dead

SEASON: 6

MY AGE WHEN I SAW THIS: 16

PLOT: At the beginning of the episode, a type one diabetic character is introduced to have survived roughly two years of the apocalypse. When one of the main characters runs away with her cooler of insulin, he goes back to return it. As soon as he does, she loses consciousness while on the run from a group of zombies. Her friends promptly fill a syringe with the returned insulin and give it her; a few seconds later she is back up and running. Several minutes later the zombies are defeated, but not without the unfortunate casualty of the diabetic character (Jensen).

FACTUAL INACCURACIES:

1. The prognosis of a type one diabetic in the apocalypse is not great. There are the issues of finding insulin, keeping it cold, having a way to check your blood sugar, having enough food, increased physical labor (with the loss of technology and easy travel), and, in the case of The Walking Dead, the fact that a zombie is not going to wait until your blood sugar is at a healthy level before it tries to kill you.

2. The character’s friends did not test her blood sugar before giving her a shot of insulin (Jensen). This would have determined the way they should have treated the situation.

3. The most common reason for losing consciousness is low blood sugar. This needs to be treated with glucose, not insulin. Giving a diabetic a shot of insulin while their blood sugar is low can result in a seizure and/or death (especially given the situation in the show).

4. Typical low blood sugars take an average of fifteen to twenty minutes to recover from. When a loss of consciousness is involved, this time is extended even longer. The fact that the character woke back up and immediately was able to run is nowhere near accurate even in the most optimistic circumstances.    

REACTION: The entire ordeal only took the first five or ten minutes of the show, but I found myself an hour later still livid about the careless mistakes of the opening.

This is the first time that I actively identified feeling offended when I saw a diabetic character in a television show. However, that does not mean that that was the first time I had found myself at the end of a plot device. People had been finding creative ways to kill off diabetics for years at this point. This instance was simply the first time I was confident enough to recognize how wrong it was that my disease was being incorrectly dramatized.

***

In addition to developing a thick skin, growing up with a chronic illness—especially one that people tend to misunderstand—causes you to become wary of talking to people about it. I want to be open about it; I try my hardest to wear my insulin pump in visible places and to test my blood sugar in public. When you do this, however, you need to be ready for people to bring it up. And they are not always delicate about it.

Interestingly, as a child with diabetes I had a lot of similar encounters with the adults I had to introduce it to. It was not uncommon for me to tell an adult in my life that I had type one diabetes and for them to respond with, “Oh but honey you’re not fat” (the emphasis on fat was always included). I knew I was not fat; I actually had remarkable self esteem for a young girl. These adults were all insinuating a few things. One, the emphasis on the final word meant that by saying I had diabetes I was calling myself fat, and that this was in and of itself offensive. Second, just because I looked healthy, they assumed that I was. Third, they were saying that there was something I had done (i.e. becoming fat) that had caused my disease. An essential aspect to remember about these encounters is that they have been happening to me since I was six years old. I was barely old enough to be going to school and I was having to learn to stand up for myself to adults that should know better, or who should at least have the tact to not say those things to a little kid.

Two things can happen after a number of these daily encounters. You can develop a fierce sense of self because you are secure in your struggles and what you have gone through,  despite what people say. Or, this constant invalidation can start to chip away, and you start to believe that, somehow, your disease is your fault. I am lucky enough to have responded in the former way, but I also have had multiple therapists and my parents standing behind me through everything. That does not make it easy, it just means I have made it through.

***

TELEVISION SHOW: Hannah Montana

SEASON: 2

MY AGE WHEN I SAW THIS: 11

MAJOR EVENTS SURROUNDING THE EPISODE: This episode actually had to be shot twice due to protests about the factual inaccuracies of the way diabetes was represented.

PLOT OF AIRED EPISODE: In this episode, one of the main characters is revealed to have diabetes. Because he says he can no longer have sugar, his two best friends on the show proceed to spend the rest of the episode shielding him from it (Jensen).

WHAT WAS REMOVED: The original episode that was supposed to air included even more misinformation. It also included a scene in which the diabetic character dove into a trashcan to get a candy bar (Jensen).

FACTUAL INACCURACIES:

1. Contrary to popular belief, diabetics can eat sugar. It is not an uncontrollable urge that other people are required to help us with. Depending on the person, some type one diabetics actually treat low blood sugars with small amounts of candy.

REACTION: As an eleven year old, had I watched a character with my disease jumping into a trashcan to get a candy bar (Jensen), as was originally shown in the episode, I’m not sure what my reaction would have been, but it would not have been a positive one. I already had to deal with misrepresentation in my everyday life; now, I began having to grapple with it being used as a joke for popular entertainment.

I cannot detail the exact instances in which I watched this episode, except to simply say that I watched it. The reason that this example is so warped is that it is a show for children. By nature, kids are going to believe what they see; they take in information and spew it back out as the highest form of fact. As a society, we have an obligation to educate our children; the media is included in that. By presenting kids with false information, we are creating a society that victim blames and believes that a genetic, autoimmune disease is the person’s fault. In addition, type one diabetes is a disease that affects children; I was diagnosed when I was six. For a popular children’s television show to air this misinformation creates a potential dilemma for the kids affected: Will my friends think this is how I should be acting? Will they laugh at me when I need to eat sugar? How many more people do I now need to explain my disease to? For the majority of my life I have come across these jokes and not thought much of them other than being slightly annoyed. It was not until years later that I began to see the injustice embedded in them.

***

On October 17th, 2017, Jimmy Kimmel tweeted a photo of him holding a box of cookies and said, “Thank you for the cookies @KellyRipa - you are sweeter than diabetes” (Kimmel). For me, and for many other diabetics, this was just another disheartening moment that thousands of people witnessed. What made it even more painful was the fact that, only months ago, Jimmy Kimmel spoke with intelligence and eloquence about his young son’s disease; why does that matter, but we do not? This instance reflects the widespread nature of a lack of empathy surrounding both type one and type two diabetes.With that being said, there has been backlash. There were protests surrounding the episode of Hannah Montana that got it to be changed, and people lash out in comment sections, on Facebook, and in face to face encounters.

One of the more visible examples is of Nick Jonas. I have grown up with him as one of my role models simply because he is one of the few celebrities to speak openly about his diabetes. In 2015, he and three other people even formed a philanthropy group called Beyond Type 1 to increase advocacy for the disease and to create a community of people who all share the experiences I detailed earlier (About). It is one of the few groups who, instead of donations going to pay CEOs, give one hundred percent of donations to education, advocacy, and the search for a cure (About). In addition, they make sure to publicly criticize celebrities such as Kimmel who make callous comments about the disease. Slowly but surely, through small encounters and large projects, a difference is being made.

***

Diabetics are strong. We push through misinformation and work so hard behind the scenes that most people do not even realize how much work type one diabetes is. We prick our fingers to check our blood sugar anywhere from five to ten times a day. We take injections and wear insulin pumps that function as our pancreases, essentially going through our lives with an organ on the outside of our bodies. We have low blood sugars and high blood sugars, and we always bounce back. Sometimes they wake us up multiple times throughout the night, but we still go to school and work the next day. We are writers, teachers, actors, prime ministers, and Supreme Court Justices. Life never stops, but neither do we.

Works Cited

“About Beyond Type 1.” Beyond Type 1, www.beyondtype1.org/about-beyond-type-1/. Accessed

29 October 2017.

Appel, Annie and Leslie Jamison. "Going Back: A Photographer, a Family, and the Borders in

between." Virginia Quarterly Review (Project Muse), vol. 93, no. 1, January 2017, p. 36. EBSCOhost, proxy.emerson.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edo&AN=ejs41150222&site=eds-live.

Jamison, Leslie. "Grand Unified Theory of Female Pain." Virginia Quarterly Review, vol. 90, no.

2, Spring2014, pp. 114-128. EBSCOhost, proxy.emerson.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=aph&AN=95568729&site=eds-live.

---. "It does not happen by machine." Witness, vol. 27, no. 1, 2014, p. 8+. Literature

Resource Center, proxy.emerson.edu/login?url=http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?p=LitRC&sw=w&u=ecl_main&v=2.1&id=GALE%7CA367198097&it=r&asid=5559d1b02865700df823dd03a5c647df.

Jensen, K. Thor. “7 Times TV And Movies Got Diabetes Wrong.” Beyond Type 1, 17 August

2016, www.beyondtype1.org/7-times-tv-and-movies-got-diabetes-wrong/. Accessed 23 October 2017.

@jimmykimmel. “Thank you for the cookies @KellyRipa - you are sweeter than diabetes

#KimmelinBrooklyn.” Twitter, 17 October 2017, 2:09 p.m.,

www.twitter.com/jimmykimmel/status/920396329515405317. Accessed 23 October 2017.

#identity #society #vol3