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superloves4 · 6 months

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in your eyes the mirror of mercy (ch.3)

Characters: Maglor & (ROP)Galadriel, Gen

Chapters: 3 of 3

Summary: While searching for Sauron after following a lead to the Southlands, Galadriel stumbles onto the last person she expected to ever see again: her cousin, the kinslayer Maglor Fëanorion.

TW: Blood and death is mentioned? Nothing graphic.

A/N: Messed up ROP's timeline a little so that Durin could be there, also, how did this chapter get so out of my control? 6k, how?

Song recommendation: When You Were Mine - Hayd (I love taking romantic songs and making them about complicated family relationships instead) & Black Friday - Team StarKid

Ch.1 Ch.2

Also on AO3

Maglor plucked at the strings of his harp, a song to bide the night farewell as the light of dawn slowly appeared on the horizon. It had been long since he’d played a song for the sake of music alone.

“I know that song!”

He smiled at the young man who looked flustered for revealing that he’d been listening in the whole time, not that he’d hidden much from the ears of an elf but Maglor wasn’t about to tell him.

“Oh, truly?”

The young man felt encouraged by his measured response and beamed “Yeah, it’s very popular, I used to hear it all the time when I was a child and I’d be asleep right after”

“Good to know that one of my compositions is still so used” Maglor couldn’t hide how glad he was that of all that Elros could’ve carried of him, the ones he chose to keep had been his songs. His next note was a lament, it wasn’t supposed to be, but it was nonetheless.

How many people were forever sundered from him now?

But the man was staring at him in awe anyway “You’re one of them, aren’t you? The ones with the light...”

Maglor smiled “You have much yet to see, Isildur, don’t focus too much on what is beyond sight”

“How did you?”

Their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Galadriel who had heard them and as soon as her own conversation with the young Nùmenorian had ended, she asked “Since when do you have sight?”

Maglor continued playing his harp “I don’t”

She just stared at him in doubt “Those were not just words and you know it”

Maglor stared at the water, another melody turned somber, “I don’t, it’s not sight” he answered, a single cord resounding “It’s Song.”

Galadriel remembered then, something she’d been told as a child, that the sea contained the vestiges of the Song of Illùvatar. The idea felt wrong, something he shouldn’t have been able to hear, but the answer was right in front of her, wasn’t it?

“Have you truly been walking the shores all this time?”

Maglor seemed to reflect on that question before chuckling “Are you more willing to believe me now?” he had a small smile, illuminated by the morning sun, Maglor looked utterly tired “I wasn’t lying but I gathered the truth wouldn’t have been enough”

Galadriel shook her head in disbelief “To think that all this time...” he’d been so close to all of them “...You’d been just down by the shore...”

“Everyone was better off without me” Maglor shrugged “I had my sins to pay for and no one to return to”

“We were still there” Maglor had to stop playing and look at her in surprise but she said nothing more. All those years alone, losing family after family, friend after friend, surely he’d see, surely he’d know.

“Ah, yes, because I’m truly that good of a company, I’m sure” he tried to joke but the conversation was over and she left, with no more clarification to give him.

Riding to battle was not something Maglor ever expected to do again, the human spear he’d been loaned was heavier than any elven or dwarven weapon he’d held before but the heaviness of his spirit was greater than ever, there was still much unsaid and much he didn’t trust about himself.

But when he looked at the Nùmenorians riding alongside him he would remind himself who he was fighting for this time around, he remembered the true enemy now and why it mattered.

The survivors of that faithful day would go back and talk about the fire of the elves that fought in the Southlands, and how their light reached the besieged people before the sun could fully rise. After so many years, the voice of Kanafinwë Makalaurë roared on the battlefield again, a sound most on that battlefield couldn’t even know the legacy it carried, and the few that did, could not believe the sound of an era gone by, could still exist.

But he did exist, he was there and he wouldn’t run away anymore.

“Maglor!”

Galadriel had called to her cousin as the orc tried to escape, not that he made it too far away. Having heard her, he’d quickly reached the two and tripped the orc’s horse sending it’s rider flying.

The two cousins descended from their own horses but Maglor had that horrible gut feeling as back in Nùmenor when he looked at Galadriel, it should’ve been normal, she simply looked pleased at capturing the one responsible for the attack in the Southlands and the orc could have information to lead them back to Sauron, but it didn’t settle well with him nonetheless. Her eyes were dark and cold, it terrified him.

They tied him up in a nearby barn, allowing them to truly see the one they’d been fighting the whole day.

“He’ll wake up soon” he commented, seeing the telltale signs of consciousness returning to the rider.

“Let me talk to him,” she asked him but Maglor was still uncertain so she added “Alone”

Maglor looked from the prisoner back to her, but he decided he’d trust Galadriel.

Galadriel looked down at the orc in front of her, heard his words but couldn’t rest, how many of her people had they taken and killed? How many of the second born? The desire to cut his life short was immeasurable, alas, she still needed information.

But disappointment cuts deep.

It was so hard, to keep down that pain in her chest, even as he continued to speak. Sauron wasn’t there. After everything she had done, all the information she’d tracked down, every hurt and every person that had left her alone to the chase, in the end, it still had not been enough.

And he kept talking, about the orcs in his service and about a place for them, the pain felt as if her chest would cave in at any moment, her breath came harder and she struggled to think.

Adar then called for the One, for recognition.

She was brought back to her childhood and Findaràto was there, he was discussing something or the other with someone, the conversation veered towards Ilúvatar and she could remember her brother’s voice. She remembered everything, as clearly as if it had been yesterday.

How dare he?

She threatened him, she wanted to cause all the pain she suffered on the pathetic orc, to see as he regretted his wretched existence and everything she had to see. Who cared if he called her evil? The blood on her blade was black.

“Nerwen”

Galadriel was thrown back into the present and her breathing returned. The red faded from her vision and the chill of her hate filled her bones. Unlike what she expected, however, Maglor’s eyes weren’t judging her.

Instead, he allowed her to leave, taking care of the prisoner in her place while she remembered how to breathe freely. And she heard them. She heard him.

“There is nothing you could tell me, Son of Fëanor,” was Adar seething “Oh, yes I know who you are, nothing for you to say that the lady hasn’t already”

Maglor sighed.

“You can hardly expect otherwise, there’s too much history between us, no?”

She heard him place some food in front of Adar, she didn’t even notice he had gathered anything.

“Do you think yourself so much higher than us, Calaquendi? Do you believe I don’t know your history or what you’ve done?”

“You seem to have misunderstood my intentions,”

“Have I? You look down on me but before today did you even know if you still bled red? Don’t patronize me, kinslayer.”

“I do not know what it is to feel the enemy on my skin so I cannot speak as truly as another might if you may forgive me for it”

“What are you even talking about?”

There was a pause then a shuffle, it seemed to be Maglor.

“You are more than what Utmno made of you”

His voice was lower, as if on the ground.

“I hope you may remember it before the end, I’ve found it to not be an easy thing to believe in, but it’s all any of us have, no?”

Galadriel braced herself on a rock, adrenaline could no longer carry her and the remaining strength left at last. For so long she had prided herself in her ability to see, to look and know the true heart of someone, ever believing that she had never allowed herself to waver in too harsh or too soft a judgment.

But when the moment arrived she had offered nothing but blood and destruction. Galadriel had believed she had been chasing the light her brother had taught her so long ago, that the dark path she’d threaded had taught her further. But when asked to hope, she had refused.

It had been Maglor, instead. Arrogant, tired, guilty, Maglor. It had been him to reach out and offer mercy.

Her hands were clean but she was heavy. How far had she sunken? For how long had she followed a reflection instead? Galadriel looked at her dagger, her eyes reflected on the blade, would Findaràto truly see his sister if he saw her now?

She silently cried, for how long, she didn’t know, but she did feel when someone sat by her side.

“You were right”

Maglor chuckled and she felt the vibration on her arm where they touched “Oh, my, that is something no one would ever believe happened if I told, you know.” there was some measure of comfort in his voice, she remembered now, Maglor had liked to joke where Maedhros had been more stern in his concern. He’d been an older brother before he’d been her older cousin.

“Celeborn is dead” she began, her voice wistful and pained “I never saw him again, after losing so much of our family to not even have his body to cry over and bury, it was so hard to see forward.”

“Gil-Galad never approved of what I was doing” she explained “He believed I was keeping alive the same evil I had been looking for, perhaps he even believed, knew, I was to become that same evil. That I was marred.” Galadriel felt his stare at her but she could look at him, focusing instead on the object Adar had been trying to escape with “Everyone could see that I had lost myself”

“You know,” he spoke, “these past days you reminded me of someone...”

“Fëanor?”

“Celegorm, actually”

Galadriel scoffed “That’s a low blow even for you”

But Maglor persisted “I know who he is to history, but history didn’t see my brother,” he said firmly “The grief that can overwhelm us and lead us to believe that what we do is correct, that hurt can heal past hurt, but we’re just left with that pain inside, eating at us until we can’t run anymore, there’s nothing my brother can do now but you are here and you’re not him”

Galadriel trembled and her voice struggled “There isn’t a path I can see anymore, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” her whole being shaking “I can’t stop”

“Neither can I”

She looked at her cousin, facing the fear of what she looked like to others now, and in his eyes, she saw reflected that same pain, that same all-consuming desire for vengeance and the flame that hungered for destruction. They had been fighting for so long.

Galadriel gave him a poor smile “You called me Nerwen”

They could survive this, they would find a way.

Maglor laughed and seemed to be about to joke again when his expression changed and he quickly grabbed Adar’s parcel instead. His frantic actions revealed a small axe inside but Galadriel had no idea why it was so important or why Maglor looked horrified.

“We need to run”

“What? Why? We won, what-”

He grabbed her wrist and started pushing her along with him “It’s wrong! It’s all wrong, the sound! The sound! We have to leave!”

“What are you talking about?!”

The ground trembled before the first rocks started to fall but Galadriel couldn’t understand, hadn’t they prevented this? It didn’t matter anymore, Orodruin was erupting and they had to reach the others fast.

Everything seemed to go wrong from then on, at some point she lost track of where Maglor was in the middle of the chaos they found but she dedicated herself to taking as many people to safety as she could even as the world around began to burn. Galadriel thought she heard music in the distance but ash blurred her vision, if her cousin was still nearby she couldn’t tell, and when she was hit by a stray rock she couldn’t tell anything at all.

She woke up to a world of darkness.

It was difficult to not feel it was her fault, when she found her way out of those destroyed lands she’d realize it wasn’t, but in that moment it felt like punishment. Maglor’s words returned to her in the dark and she followed, hoping that the two of them could help others, the human boy in her group in particular, there was too much hurt in Theo that reminded her so much of herself.

They reached the light and things went back into place, Theo found his mother and Arondir, and she got to speak with the Queen and Elendil, learning they planned to return to Nùmenor soon. Everything seemed to correct itself, they had lost much that day and it was exhausting to see their victory turn hollow so quickly.

They would heal.

Galadriel was swiftly enveloped in an unexpected hug.

“You’re safe”

She hugged Maglor back, feeling like a child, truly glad he had survived.

“Did you think you could escape going back to Lindon with me, huh?”

“About that...”

She broke the hug, Maglor was avoiding her eyes, and her arm was bloodied but it wasn’t her blood. The gash at his side was shallower than she feared but Maglor had fought as long as she had, if he knew that such a wound wouldn’t kill him, then why did he look about to leave her his goodbyes?

She shook her head but he smiled.

“Poison” he explained to her silent question “I’m too out of practice it seems, one orc sneaked upon my group” he laughed as if she wasn’t staring at him in horror “I searched the camp, we’ve got nothing and it’s not something I can fix on song alone, I won’t be coming back it seems”

“No,” she refused to see another one of her family die in front of her “No, there’s got to-, Eregion,” she nodded to herself, she could find a way out of this “It’s seven days from here, with the right horses...”

His legs trembled and she held her cousin so he wouldn’t just fall to the ground.

“We’d be lucky if I get three days, let alone seven” he laughed but took her hand “It’s okay, it’s not such a loss, no? I’m still guilty remember”

Of course she did, Galadriel's vision blurred with tears, of course, and that’s why he had to live, that’s why...

“Going soft?” he joked “Hey, it’s more than any of my brothers got, at least I fought for something true no?”

“No, you fought for my revenge, it’s not the same” she sobbed.

Maglor hugged her again but she pushed him away.

“Let me try,” she said “You haven’t fought your true fight yet and you need to be there when I fight mine, Maglor Fëanorion,” her voice cracked “Let me at least try.”

Maglor had liked the idea of dying there, they were close enough to the coast, he could stay there until the poison ran its course, staring at Nùmenor before his long-delayed journey to the Halls called to him. It was way more than he ever thought he’d have.

But Galadriel was crying on his armour and he didn’t want to disappoint her anymore, so he agreed. At least he wouldn’t die alone.

Galadriel had picked the most well-rested horses she could find, faster horses would be best but a horse that covered more ground was better than a fast, tired one that could barely trot right from the beginning. She’d sing of healing and would coerce Maglor to do the same, they might not heal the poison, but if they pushed it back long enough.

“We’ll be there soon, we’re so close to Eregion now” they had stopped for rest and she really didn’t like that Maglor looked to be developing a fever “And when we get there, you’ll be able to see Celebrimbor again”

“Celebrimbor?” she heard him ask, that was good, keep him awake.

Galadriel laughed “Yeah, Celebrimbor, your nephew”

“What are you talking about?”

That made her turn her head “What are you talking about?”

Maglor looked at her seriously, struggling to breathe “Celebrimbor is dead, he died in Nargothrond”

“What? No, he didn’t, he-” she tried to say when it hit her “You didn’t know he wasn’t in Nargothrond when it fell?...”

Maglor seemed slightly delirious at that point “He didn’t-, didn’t return, he stayed, Curufin screamed, he-, he screamed when the news came-”

Galadriel looked at her cousin “All this time you thought he was dead?” but he didn’t answer her so she decided that the time for rest was over.

Elrond grimaced to Celebrimbor and the other grimaced back, the dinner was going worse than they had expected, Durin and Gil-Galad refused to be cordial to each other to everyone’s despair.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected this, what with Durin's dislike of elves and Gil-Galad anxieties after Galadriel’s disappearance, but still he had hoped that meeting on the neutral ground of Eregion would allow for better communication. Alas, they played the same tune yet again.

Durin’s attempt at crass insults towards the High King were thankfully interrupted.

“My King, Lord Celebrimbor, it’s the Lady Galadriel, she-”

“Speak faster would you!” was Galadriel’s screech from behind the doors, her steps heavy “Healer! Elrond! Elrond!”

The desperate call for a healer terrified them all and they rushed to reach her but nothing could’ve prepared them for what they saw. Elrond froze.

While, yes, Galadriel was covered in ash and blood, both black and red, it was clear she was well, nothing that would require urgent care or that a bath wouldn’t reveal to be way less in proportions.

No, the one truly at risk was the one she was carrying, black hair caked in the same mix of ash and blood, a frame much thinner than any of them remembered, and a wound with fresh blood at his side.

None of them ever thought they’d ever see Maglor Fëanorion again.

Elrond looked at Galadriel, he wasn’t even sure he knew what he felt at that moment, he had so many questions but he couldn’t even begin any of them, sentences escaped him. The ground had disappeared from his feet.

But Galadriel begged him “Please, Elrond, you’re the only one that can save him”

He swallowed hard, fighting himself he focused on the moment, he could ask all the questions he wanted later, at that moment they were a healer and a patient, that’s all.

He nodded and Maglor was quickly taken to the nearest empty room.

Durin was looking around confused, wondering if it would be best if he left, Celebrimbor had taken refuge in his forges and Galadriel knew that Gil-Galad was glaring daggers at her but she was exhausted enough to not care, she could only wait and hope she hadn’t been too late.

“Just say what you want to say”

He took a deep breath before saying “You,” he hissed “vanished...”

Gil-Galad seemed to her to be trembling with rage, she wasn’t really sure how she’d justify bringing Maglor here, she just didn’t want to lose someone again.

“And then,” the king continued “When you return, without a single letter in all this time I might add, you have a dying kinslayer with you!” his voice getting progressively more aggravated “Did you even think what you were doing? What were you doing at all this time? Why did you think bringing him, of all people, to Elrond, was a good idea?”

That one she could answer “I think we were wrong,” she answered honestly “I don’t think Maglor ever hurt them”

Gil-Galad stared at her as if her head had fallen off her shoulders, it was humiliating a look from someone so much younger than her, so she glared back.

“They destroyed his home, there’s only so much compassion one can have,” Gil-Galad said, crossing his arms.

Galadriel looked away from the judgemental younger man “I think we were wrong”

The king sighed.

Hours later, after Galadriel had told all that happened to the king, Elrond finally emerged from the room and everyone stared at him.

He avoided all of their gazes and answered “I did everything I could, it depends on him to survive the night”

And he left, Durin quickly running after him.

Elrond crumbled to the ground when he was far enough and took a deep, deep, breath. All he had wanted was a good, respectful, dinner to smooth over old enmities, all he thought he would have to deal with was the stubbornness of elves and dwarves. He felt so cold.

“Soooo,” he heard Durin’s voice “What exactly was that? Seemed more than just an injured of yours”

“That,” the dwarf couldn’t tell what the elf was feeling, his voice neutral as he continued “Was Maglor Fëanorion”

The name seemed vaguely familiar to Durin but he hardly ever bothered with elven history so in the end it meant nothing to him. He just stared at Elrond, hoping he’d continue.

Elrond hid his face in the crook of his arm, swaying slightly “He is a criminal, committed one of our greatest sins, kinslaying, thrice over in pursuit of the heirloom of his father, the silmaril”

Durin was not entirely sure why fighting for a heirloom would be bad but he sensed there was more to the story so he didn’t speak, Elrond seemed to need it.

“He...” another deep breath “He destroyed my mother’s home, then destroyed mine, my mother threw herself to the seas for this, he never got the silmaril...”

Oh, so that was why, Durin whistled “And you saved his life? My, I knew you were kind elf, but this?” he nodded impressed.

Elrond clenched his fists on his own clothes “He’s a selfish prick that left two boys barely out of childhood with a cousin they barely knew to pursue that stupid jewel...”

Well, Durin thought, this seems different.

“I thought he was dead”

The dwarf heard a barely-held-back sob and kept silent companionship while Elrond cried through the night.

Maglor woke up to a high, elven, ceiling.

It was so beautifully normal and familiar he knew it had to be wrong. He painfully pushed himself in a sitting position, his wound had been patched perfectly but the side effects of the poison made his body ache with every movement.

“I wouldn’t recommend moving now,” Galadriel laughed at him “Wouldn’t want Elrond’s work to go to waste no?”

“Elrond?” he despaired “You brought me to Elrond?”

“I didn’t,” she defended herself “He was already in Eregion, maybe for a reason”

“He wouldn’t want to see me after all that I did” he struggled to acclimate to the soft pillows, there had been a time when all his pillows had been this soft, now they made him feel insecure.

“You survived,” she told him “It’s the only way we can truly move on, no?”

Maglor laughed and then groaned from the pain in his abdomen “Don’t you think I won’t use the fact that you cried for me against you”

Galadriel smiled, yes, they could find a way out of the fire.

“They are waiting for you”

Maglor needed time before he could confront Elrond, so he searched for Celebrimbor instead. It wasn’t easier, but at least he had known Elrond was alive all this time. He would see his nephew for the first time in so many years...

“HEY! Who’s there?”

Celebrimbor turned the corner and stopped, his face in shock, but Maglor couldn’t even respond. There he was. His little nephew.

He had this vivid memory, they had all gathered to wait for Curufin's arrival and then the doors opened, his brother came out holding what seemed to Maglor as the smallest elfling he’d ever seen, even the Ambarussa had been bigger.

He had been so small, Maglor had held him in his arms, sung him to sleep.

And there he was now, a grown man, it didn’t matter if he rejected his foolish uncle, to see him again had been enough.

“How did you get here?” Celebrimbor asked cautiously.

“I-” Maglor smiled awkwardly “Believe it or not, I know my way in a forge... we all knew...” he trailed off, he felt the push of song but refused it, he needed to be present now, he owed them as much.

Celebrimbor nodded, more to himself than as an answer “I’m glad you’re alive?”

Maglor laughed “Usually, it’s not a question”

Celebrimbor sighed “I, it’s just, we all thought you died after Eönwë’s camp, to see you now... I don’t even know what to say”

“You don’t need to say anything Tyelpë” Maglor wanted to commit his vision to memory “I’m sorry, for everything that we failed you for, and for everything you had to endure after we weren’t here”

Maglor thought his nephew was still too kind when Tyelpë got closer and with all the sincerity in the world, asked him “Are you all right, uncle? Do I need to call a healer?”

“We thought you died in Nargothrond” Maglor told him, unable to keep himself from reaching to stroke his nephew’s head, how funny that Curufin who had been smaller than Maglor had a child that now stood taller than he did, the caress just a little awkward as a result.

“What...?”

Telperinquar knew he hadn’t sent letters but somehow the idea of his father lying on the floor of Doriath, thinking he had long died, moved something in him. Had his father thought of him then? Did he want for his father to have thought of him?

“Did my father?...”

“...Yes”

Maglor removed his hand “He thought much of you, if it matters anything, I understand if you do not wish to hear of him”

Tyelpë looked at his uncle, he still looked terribly smaller than the great elf of his memories and the poison had left him looking deathly pale, like a gust of wind would send him tumbling down the stairs. No one was sure what to do with him, Galadriel herself had brought him back and asked for his salvation, where did that leave that tired kinslayer? And who was he to Telperinquar?

“I was hurting,” Tyelpë began, trying to find the words, those had always come easier to his father “I saw my family betray everything I believed in, father had always promised I’d be safe with family, but my family wasn’t safe from themselves” he walked towards one of the benches “I never wanted for you to believe me dead... but I also believed you dead, for all these years...”

“I-, I know what that looks like, I just-” Maglor struggled to explain, desperation tugging at his heart “I never wanted to impose on you, if you wish me gone, I will.”

But Tyelpë simply held something up to his face.

Maglor stared at it in disbelief “That’s father’s hammer...” he couldn’t help but snort “You took it from Curufin’s things?” he laughed, shaking his head. Curufin had been desperate to find it, searched the entirety of Himring, and instead, the whole time... Maglor was rather proud he had to admit “I’m so glad to see you well, Tyelpë.”

The man in front of him smiled “If you are to stay, then you better prove it. I’d hate to lose my uncle again.”

Maglor smiled back. After all those years, he finally got to hug his nephew, and he knew he’d gladly spend any time proving whatever was asked of him.

“Is something wrong, Tyelpë?”

A voice Maglor didn’t recognize asked, but unlike his skepticism, Celebrimbor seemed delighted.

“Oh! Annatar! Please, come meet my uncle!”

The moment the man stepped forward Maglor knew he wasn’t an elf, but neither was he a human. Certainly a handsome person but there was something unnatural about his beauty, something uncanny about the splendour of his blonde hair, it seemed as if one had attempted to recreate the way treelight would illuminate people in Valinor. But he didn’t think Celebrimbor would remember, he’d been so young when they left.

“I salute you, son of Fëanor, I am Annatar Aulendil” the man introduced himself, his smile was almost too serene.

Celebrimbor beamed “He is a maia of Aulë, he was sent by the Valar to help us” he seemed so proud of himself, Maglor felt bad for his reticence, they just reconnected he didn’t want to go back on his words, it was just that...

“Why would the Valar send someone to the House of Fëanor?” he asked. Maglor firmly believed that he’d never met a maiar named Annatar in Aulë’s halls.

The man looked at him and without a beat answered “Why wouldn’t they? Is Celebrimbor not innocent? And aren’t the Valar merciful?” he tilted his head, still smiling in that strangely perfect way “Why wouldn’t we embrace the house that betrayed us? Thus bringing them back to our embrace”

Celebrimbor laughed “He is not wrong, we have much to atone for, I have many hopes for this”

It pained Maglor’s heart to hear it, Celebrimbor should’ve never been the one to stand for them. He tried to speak, to remind his nephew that he didn’t owe them anything but was interrupted by the maia.

“Is it not what you wish for yourself, son of Fëanor? Redemption?”

Maglor bristled but kept it hidden, not wanting to upset Celebrimbor “Nothing so grand, there is no redemption for myself,” it wasn’t a sad thought, just something he’d live with “I merely wish for healing now.”

The man stared at him for an unsettling amount of time “A noble desire, I suppose” he finally said “There is much I heard about Maglor Fëanorion, about your music in particular, is it true that you are even better than our great late king, Finrod Felagund?”

Maglor took a step back, not liking the question “We never had any need to know” he responded curtly.

Annatar hummed, he never stopped smiling.

“How unfortunate”

He might have said something back but Celebrimbor grabbed his hand “I believe I can create something, Uncle, not to capture but to heal, Annatar has been a great help in achieving such ideal, I wish for us to get along”

Whatever that Annatar had wrong, Celebrimbor was looking at him so hopeful that Maglor didn’t have the heart to refuse him anything.

Maglor stayed long with his nephew, leaving him felt painful, the feeling that Tyelpë would be gone the moment he took his eyes off of him would likely never truly leave him.

But he still had one more person he needed to meet.

The one he had the most to apologize for.

He found Elrond looking blankly into a crystal goblet from the night before and Maglor had no doubt he was the cause of his heavy heart. To have to save someone that hurt him so deeply, Maglor didn’t even begin to know how to atone.

Maybe his death would be the requirement.

But Maglor didn’t want to die anymore.

“I-”

“So, it seems I’m last,” Elrond hummed, not turning to look at him “I should not have imagined differently, huh”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me so soon”

Elrond scoffed “Because the last time I saw you wasn’t hundreds of years ago, am I wrong?”

“I know I hurt you, I want to apologize”

Elrond jumped from his seat, putting more distance between him and Maglor “Of course, because that will fix everything”

Maglor sighed “You don’t need to forgive me, I just thought you deserved to hear me say that I am truly sorry” and walked back to the door, he knew he should leave now, Elrond clearly didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, it was only right to not bother the peace he’d found for himself.

“There’s a bow by that corner,” Maglor turned to look and indeed Elrond was telling the truth “If you leave this room now, I will shoot you”

“Elrond!”

“Don’t!” Elrond screamed back, finally looking at him, his eyes were red, swollen, and Maglor could see the tear trails on his face now “Don’t you dare reprimand me for anything! You don’t deserve it!”

“Of course I don’t Elrond!” Maglor exclaimed, hoping to make him understand “I’m not trying to forget what happened, I’m not asking you to forgive me! You don’t need to look at me ever again!”

“Then why are here? Why do you always arrive just to leave again?” Elrond shouted “You keep repeating yourself! You think you can correct what you did by for caring for us, but leave us with Gil-Galad instead, then you think you can correct everything by just disappearing with no letters, we thought you were dead! How am I to believe you won’t just vanish tomorrow, find an excuse about making amends and we never see you again? We-, no, I never see you again.”

“I should’ve come sooner, I just-, I thought that was what you wanted.” Maglor avoided Elrond’s gaze, he never expected this whenever he imagined how meeting his ward again would be.

“You have no idea what I want,” Elrond threw at him, cornering Maglor “You just do things and put inside your head that everyone wants you gone because leaving is easier than realizing that you changed, that there was more than the path you took when you arrived in Beleriand, that you could do something”

“I’m sorry! I truly am, I spent so long thinking about what I should’ve done better, but everything I did,” Maglor tried desperately to make him see “I did because I thought was the greater good, for you, for Elros, I should’ve never taken you two, you deserved far more than who I was, I should’ve never hurt you as I did, but leaving was the only correct choice”

Elrond scoffed again “You are still doing it! You put in your head this image of what happened and you don’t stop to think what we wanted!” he was crying now and Maglor felt his heart break, Elrond should not be crying, he should never have to cry.

“For the greater good?” Elrond questioned, his voice shaking “Father left for the greater good, Mother left for the greater good, Elros left for the greater good,” his head drooped and he let himself lean on Maglor’s chest, like a child looking for comfort “But you... You were selfish, you should’ve stayed, there was nothing you could truly do to fix what you had done, we wanted you to stay, you should’ve been selfish...”

“Elrond...”

Maglor took him in his arms, he had grown much since he last saw him, but in his arms, Elrond was just that scared child again. He had been so wrong.

“I’m tired, of being left,” Elrond sobbed “So, if you plan to leave, then leave, I’ll pretend you died as you wanted...”

“No,” Maglor kissed his head “I’m not leaving, I’ll stay to the breaking of the world if it’s what you want, I’m sorry Elrond, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it in time to see Elros,” Maglor continued to stroke his back, letting the sobs dwindle “I’ve been there you know, I saw Nùmenor, I saw his heirs, they built so much and they are so strong, I will be here to see what you will build”

Elrond could help the new sobs, feeling at least a little more full, even when and if he saw his parents again, he had lost Elros, and probably would lose others along the way, there would never be a him who was whole. But people could come back, some could still return to him. It was flawed but it was his family. And that was enough.

“I missed you...”

“I missed you, too”

Galadriel looked over that reunion from above, she had never meant to eavesdrop, it was too important a moment for her to do so, but the screams had attracted more attention than the two had meant and she had ended up witnessing the end of that confrontation. She was happy for them.

Everything was shaky and fragile, they still had much to work to do and Maglor’s fate was uncertain, her own decisions were still to show their consequences.

But they weren’t alone anymore. They could heal now.

The End

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applesap-fics · 1 year

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FABril day 4 - Chores, part one

1, 2, 3

T, 2357 words, Bruno/Agustín, Bruno & Mirabel.

Mirabel starts living with Bruno for a little while. She’s curious about why he left. Then she finds out a little more.

He almost slips off his cane when he sees his niece on the opposite side of the doorway.

It’s not that he’s surprised that she’s here. It’s just that Bruno isn’t quite prepared for how different she looks. The last time they saw each other she was a child.

It is as if he’s closed the door on her one day and a moment later opened it up again, replacing her with an older version of herself. She looks eerily, and beautifully, like her mother.

For a moment that image lasts, complete with gray hairs and wrinkles under her eyes and dressed in blue instead of the colorful attire she’s actually wearing.

Then Bruno clenches his eyes shut and opens them again, and there she stands as she really is: fifteen, bright-eyed and nervous, wearing a hesitant smile on her face like she expects her uncle to change his mind, turn her right around and send her back home.

“Hey, Mirabel,” he croaks a bit awkwardly. He regains his posture, trying for nonchalant as he leans on his cane. “There you are, huh? Wow, you’re- you’ve gotten so big! I mean- not like that! It’s just…it’s been a while, and you’re all grown.”

Before he knows it, she’s enveloped him in a tight hug.

One day Julieta called him up out of the blue and asked him if it wouldn’t be a good idea if Mirabel came to live with him for a little while, at least for the summer.

In her fashion she was polite, slightly accusatory like their mother, and thus easily refusable.

“And what does Ma think of me taking care of Mirabel?” He asked her, knowing fully well his mother doesn’t speak of him and likely avoided the combined topic of “Bruno” and “responsibility” alltogether. The other end of the line stayed silent. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re both stubborn, you know? It’s the both of you.”

He left years ago for a good reason. The idea to ask him to…to take care of someone, of Mirabel, seems an absurd initiative. From his capricious mental health to living situation to sending Mirabel off to go live with her estranged uncle, there’s too much to take into consideration.

But Julieta’s, his, and his mother’s conviction didn’t matter.

One week after he hung up on Julieta, he received a long letter from Agustín. About how his daughter isn’t quite finding her way at home and how he wonders if maybe the city won’t treat her and her wild imagination better than the stifling reclusiveness of their village, just like it had for Bruno. That sending Mirabel away isn’t done out of any malice or foreboding. If Bruno would please reconsider having her, because there’s no one he trusts more to be kind and understanding than him.

The letter is two sides long. The words are gentle, but steadfast, and clearly written against the opinion of the family that Agustín usually follows to avoid conflict. Bruno smells the love he has for his daughter in every brave sentence, and all of them together form an elaborate composition. It’s like music in Casita’s courtyard. It’s familiar and his heart aches.

Bruno read it over and over before he finally sent him a letter of his own.

“How was your trip? Too long, right? It’s always way too long for me.” Though this wasn’t the only reason he rarely met up with his sisters.

“Oh, yeah. I wish I could’ve brought my sewing machine, but, yeah…Too heavy. It was either that or my accordion.” She shrugs her shoulders which he now sees carry an instrument bag, not a backpack.

He gives her his sympathy. Agustín not just mentioned she’s creative, he boasted it, and Bruno believes it immediately when he looks at her embroidered orange jacket and blue skirt filled with little sewing doodles.

It makes Mirabel a bright uncanny spot in Bruno’s humble home. As she walks through his apartment, she takes in every bit of clutter with worried eyes. Even with his bad back, Bruno didn’t think he had gotten that bad with the upkeep of his home, but he’s getting embarrassed now, thinking what she must’ve expected before the trip. Certainly not stacks of telenovela scripts and books covering unaddressed letters he’s never sent.

It’s a far cry from the colorful Casita she’s left behind, which is big enough to house a dozen family members and about as talkative. He always keeps the radio on to fill the silence and to keep his house full of romantic love songs. It helps him write.

Mirabel is still holding on to her duffle bag and keeps the bag over her shoulder as if her stuff will get swallowed up once she puts it down.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says as he gives her a little tour - his apartment, though decent, isn’t all that big, but he has space for her. He gestures to unload her stuff. “I tried cleaning out the office a little - that’s your room!”

“My own room?” She asks peculiarly as he opens the door for her.

“Of course! What, did you think your cruel tío was gonna let you sleep on the couch?” he asks amusedly.

She shrugs abashedly. “No. I guess? I dunno. I share a room with Antonio, so…I’m not used to it.”

Inside sits the spare cot he’s prepared for her and a desk he’s mostly cleared of his writing and accounting. On the walls he’s hung up drawings to give the room a bit more life. Rats in period clothes, boats on voyages, little doodles he’s made while brainstorming ideas for his stories. He feels silly about them now, realizing she’s not that much of a kid anymore.

“I hung these up for you. To lighten the place up a little-heh.” He rubs his elbow, unsure. “But you can make your own or take them down if you don’t like them.”

Mirabel smiles.

“No, Tío. Thank you.”

“So, a couple of things,” tío Bruno begins.

They’re eating the sancocho de pollo Mirabel brought from home, which is apparently Bruno’s favorite. He started humming and whistling the moment she pulled out the container. His cane lies forgotten by the front door. He only needed it to breach the distance between his front door and the lobby to let her in. She hadn’t expected he needed one - neither Mamá or tío Bruno (they had a brief conversation on the phone) had mentioned it.

“Curfew, of course. Ehh, be home before nine if you go out. The errand boy comes here on Mondays with groceries and/or medicine - ask for the receipt and don’t let him hustle you too much. Avoid talking to the handsome boy from the next block over: he’s a loverboy. Joselito I think his name is. I know the city can be very exciting and boys may seem very fun now that you’re at that age, but you’ll get in trouble if you go looking for danger of his kind, trust me!…Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned him at all. Ay, you’re probably thinking of running away with him now!”

He throws his hands up and clutches his hair.

She stares at him, reeling a bit at his rambling. “Uhh.”

“Anyway,” he perks up, dramatics forgotten, “there’s a lot of clubs and activities, so there’s always something fun for you to do while you’re here. And you could come to the theater with me! I’m sure you’d love it. It’s small but has a lot of heart.”

“That sounds great.” It was the reason she wanted to come to the city. She wanted to find her place.

He beams. “But don’t let me slow you down from whatcha wanna do, okay? I’m boring anyway and I can’t always go very far.”

This remark reminds her to ask; she thought he was an architect or construction worker or something in that vein, but he told her he quit that profession to take up writing, which landed him a job at one of the local theaters. She wonders if he had to quit that first job because of his injury.

“So,” she says, stirring against the corn cob, “what actually happened to your back?”

“My back?” His expression turns sullen, his spoon resting in the sancocho. “Oh, something awful.”

He doesn’t elaborate and she immediately regrets asking. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He nods gravely.

There’s so much more she wants to ask him, but most of those questions are about the family, which require a kind of perilousness she doesn’t want to drag him into just yet.

“Uhm, so,” she tries. “What’s with all the letters?”

He looks surprised. “You saw those?”

“Yeah, they’re everywhere.” All tucked tight between other manuscripts and his books, but odd and noticeable enough.

He rubs his neck. “Ehh…I don’t wanna talk about it. They just kind of appear.”

“What? What does that mean?” she asks confused, but he again doesn’t elaborate. And after an awkward moment of silence, she gives up, “Okay.” They eat their stew in silence before she tries again. “Papi said that before he even met Mamá, you and he were friends?”

“Oh.” Surprisingly, even this catches him off-guard. He looks up at that, gaze distant for a moment, eyebrows pinched. It takes a second for him to reply, scratching the scruff of his neck. “Oh, sure,” he says and goes back to slurping his soup, not looking up.

“Got any funny stories from back in the day?”

He makes a strangled sound and shrugs, back to eating.

“Oookay. Good talk.”

Despite his evasiveness when it comes to family talk, tío Bruno loves to talk. About his interests, his hobbies - of which he has a lot.

It makes her fond somehow, to hear how he also thinks the random pitter-patter sounds that can sometimes be heard outside the building are pixies, just like Abuela and tía Pepa do. “Poor things,” he says, smiling. “The rats like to eat them.” Mirabel has never actually seen one before and doesn’t quite believe in them, but hearing that they persist even in the city makes her think the older generation is onto something.

Tío Bruno has so many pecularities it’s hard to list them all, from nervous ticks to his superstitions. He burns sage and avoids stepping on cracks. Every morning he does a cleansing ritual alongside taking his anti-epilepsy pills. He keeps an upside-down broom in all the rooms to keep out bad spirits (also handy for sweeping up the salt and sugar he spills a prolific amount of) and he holds his breath when he walks through every doorway, not just the one that leads outside.

He also swoons at music and always seems to have romance on his mind. He does spontaneous dances when he listens to the radio or when he’s playing some cuban bolero on his gramophone, which is such a classic item it makes it seem as though he’s stuck in time, only adding to that romanticism. Bruno loves writing and reading and tells her he can waste days watching reruns of telenovela’s he’s already seen.

“Ah…so much can happen in a life. It’s easy to forget when you’ve got a bad back and never go anywhere. That’s why it’s important to throw in crazy stuff. You gotta remember the love exists between the cracks.”

She’s been curious about him for a long time. It is as though her own life falls into place now, Bruno the missing piece of the puzzle, a branch she was never allowed close to. It’s good to meet the person he really is instead of hearing half-finished stories from her cousins and sisters who knew him only a tiny bit better. A hard line of separation forced by a ten year old wall.

She has a vague understanding of why he left. He lost his way in the family, one way or another. Stir-crazy, tío Félix told her. Thought he was bad for the family, suicidal, and too cooped up in the village. Not to mention volatile. Made the whole house mad.

“He was…sensitive,” Papá said with a far-off look in his eyes that seemed far too fraught on her dad’s face of all people.

Selfish reasons, according to Abuela, but from what Mirabel gathers those ‘selfish reasons’ boil down to ‘leaving’, which seems a bit paradoxical.

“Tío.”

It’s the end of the first night. She’s crawled up on the couch with him, leaning into his shoulder as if they’ve always done this together, drowsy from the telenovela they watched that she wasn’t all that into after a long day. “Why did you leave?”

His shoulders clench up. “Oh, that’s- I wasn’t really…that’s not important.”

“How can it not be important?”

“Okay, I guess it’s important.”

Once again, as she’s coming to expect of him, he doesn’t elaborate. Or maybe he can’t answer because he’s always so nervous and not used to having his bothersome niece here, asking questions.

He’s tense even as she leans against him, but he assured her that he’s just like that and that it’s okay to touch him and it doesn’t mean she’s imposing on him or anything. She did feel like she was imposing a little. She’s felt that way the moment her dad said she could go.

“But…I don’t get why you never really came back. I get leaving for a little while - I know Abuela and Isabela drive me crazy sometimes and always make me feel like I’m too awkward and that I’m only getting in their way, and now that I’m here I feel like I can”- She lets out a heavy puff of breath, heart straining -“breathe, finally. But I love them, and I already miss them.”

His mouth opens and closes, looking like he wants to answer, but keeps catching himself before words can spill. His chest heaves unevenly, like he’s getting worked up, and then puffing out his frustration again. But his face reads solemn, not angry at the thought of his family.

Mirabel already hugs him by the time he finally says something.

“Kid, I miss you guys plenty.”

-tbc

#encanto #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #fabshipping #encanto fanfics #im expecting the parts without bruno/gus to get more attention lol ehh yeah its probably readable even if youre not into that ship #enjoy either way #splitting this up bc uhmm its looking to be at least 8k and thats too large for easy tumblr fic reading #imho #fabril

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emblemxeno · 1 year

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Thoughts on Emblem Paralogues #1

Doing this again with the base game paralogues cuz as a longtime FE fan it’s cool to see how a celebration game shows its love. I’m not really doing them in the order they unlocked, so this is mostly a random assortment.

For starters I like how for the most part, the throwback maps have pretty much the exact same enemy composition. Very wonderful and nostalgic.

Lucina, The Exalt: This one’s good. It makes for a good start to the overall reference paralogues, cuz of it’s simplicity. Wish I had more to say, but it really is that cut and dry lol. I guess I wish there was more reference to the fact that Lucina traveled back in time to prevent the bad future, but I guess that’s what bond conversations are for.

Lyn, The Lady of the Plains: I had lots of fun with this one haha, though I guess it’s cuz I was a tad overleveled when I did it. I heard the OG map in FE6 was very hated, or at least the Sacae route was disliked a lot in comparison to the Ilia one. I read that the original version had fake-out thrones that spawned reinforcements, so I would think that’d piss first time players off. The one thing that I’m kind of iffy on though is just the decision of using this map for Lyn. I know FE7 doesn’t have notable Sacae maps to choose from (I think the first 3 chapters of Lyn’s mode are the only ones, which would suck as throwbacks lol), and that her association with Mulagir thanks to FEH means it’s appropriate to choose this map in particular, but I think chapter 10 or 15 from FE7 could’ve served as good rep maps for her. It’d let her discuss her mixed heritage and connection to Eliwood and Hector, I feel. Oh well, not too fussed about it, since I do love when Lyn talks about Sacae.

Ike, The Radiant Hero: This one’s great. Ike destroying the entire castle was fucking hilarious, and I think it’s a perfect choice for his paralogue given it’s when he first took leadership of the Greil Mercs and had to establish himself as a fighter and protector who can hold out against terrible odds. Though a complaint on that front is that I wish there was some kind of defense-like objective, even though like I said, Ike one shotting a whole castle is funny. Shout-out to the mage in the same place as Ilyana and drops Elthunder, neat reference.

Byleth, The Instructor: Very much liked this one, aside from one aspect: healers with warp aspects (lol plot teleporting in 3H). Byleth’s dancing I can handle, but damn my OCD ridden brain hated beating the map without protecting all the crystals. Though I think I got the best reward anyway, it’s very lenient. Liked the House Leader stand-ins, but surprise surprise, there’s nobody representing Rhea, Seteth, or Flayn despite this being the tomb of their brethren :/ It’s also again indicative of how averse the devs are of associating Byleth with anything beyond being a teacher, cuz one could argue that chapter 10 could’ve been a better choice and still had the “power depends on the heart of its wielder” aesop cuz it dealt with Jeralt’s death and Byleth being granted Sothis’ power in the first place. But whatever, details, details.

Sigurd, The Holy Knight: My favorite of the ones I’ve done so far. I think it’s a great way to represent Sigurd through a Gen 2 map and it gave a fair challenge. The Arvis stand-in with Meteor is hilarious. I really, really regret not getting the goddess icon from the tile that references Seliph’s talk with ghost Sigurd and Deirdre, that little easter egg is so fucking cute 😭 Sigurd’s talk about revenge and there being more than one truth shows just how great of a character he is (and his significance in Engage kind of points to more evidence that FE4 is probs getting remade soon). But the coolest part of the map are the Julius and Ishtar stand-ins. It took all of my brain power to take them out without anyone dying, but I did it! Using the Tiki bracelet came in clutch, cuz even if an attack like Ice Breath misses, it still damages adjacent enemies for the calculated damage. Widdling away at Julius was very satisfying.

I’ll do the rest of the paralogues some time, trust lol.

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage

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astrologicalsstuff · 11 months

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❤️‍🔥 hello, what can you say about this composite?🫶🏼

Ooh it’s been a while since I’ve read a composite but immediately off the bat I’d say there’s a lot of mutual feeling because there’s a stellium in the first but unless these people are air dominant specifically aquarius or have a lot of neptune aspects in their own chart I’d think this couple would probably have a difficult time taking off

Initially I see neptune in the first house right on the ascendant and in my experience this indicates confusion and often times naivety. These people cannot see each other or the relationship at face value and not in the hood romantic kind of way. This placement often times involves a lot of deceit and possibly taking advantage. Secrecy is also huge with this placement, I’m seeing a secret relationship and one that people don’t understand

You could’ve met through friends, but since the chart rulers in the first house i’d say there’s some independence to the relationship and you possibly met of your own doing. I would still probably say it could’ve been online or through a social setting.

This relationship could even entirely take place online.

The Aquarius rising shows me this could be more of a platonic relationship. It could involve friends with benefits or even siblings? With neptune on it though neither one can really say what they’re feeling. The moon is in the 12thhouse, which is the house of ending so I’m seeing that. The confusion or lack of ability to come forth with their true feelings will be the ultimate end of it.

The moon is in Capricorn and Saturn is in the fourth house, and while the moon and Saturn tend to conflict as opposing forces I don’t have so much of an issue with this because it could also involve a lot of maturity but I would say this is may be restriction because it is taking place in the 12th house which will be the ultimate downfall.

One thing that is very evident to me is Mars on the midheaven and Lilith in the 11th house. This relationship is not liked by others, and either party may keep this relationship a secret. what I’ve seen with Lilith in the 11th house it could be one person is embarrassed to be seen with the other person or maybe their friends just don’t like you(either of you). Either way I’m seeing that this relationship may not be favored by others. Not only is Lilith in that 11th house, but Pluto is also there meaning that these friendships kind of have power over the relationship as well. You probably both have people on either side trying to separate you guys.

a lot of astrologers see the seventh house as another part of the relationship, but the way I read the seventh house is how people interact with the relationship so well having Venus in the seventh house could be beneficial I notice that 7th house placements have a lot more emphasis on how the couple is approached together. Venus and sun here could but not always involve third parties. at the very least people on the outside are important to this relationship.

Jupiter in the third gives you guys ease while talking as well as mercury in cancer very sensitive to eachothers feelings, but logical thinking might be second to the emotional state of this relationship.

North node is better in the 1st house but isn’t horrible in the seventh house if this is a romantic relationship, then that means that this relationship will be important to the both of you but most likely won’t last a long time because you are most likely finishing business from a past life in this lifetime. The south node would fall in the 1st making this relationship very familiar feeling and possibly one from a past lifetime.

Since the sun and Venus are in Leo I doubt it is a secret relationship but neptune gives it some privacy.

Some aspects that I noticed that are very important are of Saturn, squaring sun meaning this relationship could have very little commitment, and maturity. and neptune opposite mercury meaning maybe some coincidences but ultimately confusion in communication. And possibly lies

There are a few ways I would decipher this entire chart, one being that maybe someone is cheating on someone else and you guys are trying to keep it a secret but people on the outside hate it.

As I said, before, this could be an online relationship

This could be a sibling relationship. Where your friends Just don’t like each other.

Or this could be a synastry of two people who really just don’t like each other, and are fake to one another.

Without knowing the state of this relationship it’s kind of hard to decipher what it means.

If it’s an online relationship it’s probably not very bad…

#astrology #astro observations #astro placements #love astrology #astro chart #composite chart

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modernmanblues · 6 months

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Based on my recent statements regarding Paul McCartney and in light of the recent release of the new Beatles record, I would just like to clarify that I do not in any shape or form dislike Paul. I love him as I love the rest of them. I love him as one would love a brother. He has impacted my life as much as George, John and Ringo have. However, given the amount of time I have loved, adored and devoted myself to the Beatles (15 years this year), naturally I have also come to learn about their individual personalities. Paul has always come off as a perfectionist, and he, like many other artists I adore (Eric Stewart included) share this attribute. The difference between Eric and Paul (and i can’t help but make this comparison as they have worked extensively together over the years) is that Eric, though he is a perfectionist, he is open minded about constructive criticism. He takes what his fellow musicians tell him is wrong and applies it to his work. This is the reason why I think he and the rest of 10cc gained so much success, especially in the mid-70s when they were at their peak. 10cc never considered themselves “better” than anyone else. They wrote and recorded music simply because they loved doing it and they loved making their fans happy. The only big mistake that 10cc made that comes to mind is that they decided to work with the wrong record company who ended up using them as a money making machine. Had they signed with the record company that they had originally planned to sign with, they could’ve been far more successful. It has been said that they could’ve been just as successful as Pink Floyd and yes, even The Beatles. But I love that they have always been an obscure band. Who knows what kind of trouble they could’ve gotten themselves in had they been as big as the mighty Beatles?

Paul McCartney on the other hand (I love you Paul but I have some caveats about you that I want to share), although he is a brilliant songwriter (he’s ONE of the greatest but not the greatest imo) he fails to see through to people. My only wish is that Paul has changed and is more receptive to feedback from fellow musicians. After all, no great songwriter has ever succeeded without the help of their equals. Certainly, one could argue that Paul had John to bounce ideas off of, but when you think about the entire Beatles catalogue and take into consideration every Lennon-McCartney composition, all those songs were solely written by either Paul or John, not both (i.e John with “I Am The Walrus” and Paul with “Yesterday).

So I really hope that Paul has changed and has gained some form of humility over time.

Thank you for tuning in to my soapbox. Might happen again.

#the beatles #10cc #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #eric stewart #lol creme #kevin godley #graham gouldman

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elaine-abroad · 10 months

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Volume 4

Week 3

This past week has been the slowest and least exciting week so far. There have been many ups and downs. Some days have been fun and others have made me kind of want to go home. It also rained the entire week which made going out a lot more inconvenient and annoying.

To start off the week, Grace and I went out to a cafe. There was a girl who sat near us in our painting class who recommended going to this specific cafe because it was a Harry Potter themed one and after hearing that, we really wanted to go. Overall, it was a little underwhelming. I don’t think it registered that it was a cafe and not an actual Harry Potter attraction. You had to buy a drink to enter and the floors we could go to were just seating spaces that had a Hogwarts vibe.

It was still cool though. I got the “jelly smoothie” which tasted like bubblegum and had some candy on top. Grace’s matcha drink looked a lot more related to the theme and even had a chocolate Sorting Hat on top.

Because it was raining, we wanted to find other indoor places to go to. Unfortunately all the nearby shopping centers were either not what we were looking for or one that we had already gone to. To continue with the cafe theme though, we wanted to go to another animal one. There was a sheep cafe relatively near so we headed to that.

The sheep weren’t actually in the cafe area for reasonable reasons. We weren’t really looking for more sweets at that time and wanted to get some real food so we ended up leaving. I had to get some close ups of the sheep before we left though.

We went to a small place that had noodles. It was similar to that one katsu curry place we went to previously where you order on a kiosk and pick a spot along the counter to sit at.

We went back after because it was raining so hard. It cleared up later so Bianca and I went to this burger place called Mom’s Touch for dinner.

My order here was similar to what I got at Lotteria only the patty was replaced by a slab of fried chicken. It was pretty good but a little saucier than I would have liked. Anyways, that was the end of my weekend.

The start of this school week was dreaded. On Monday, I had my traditional painting midterm as well as my visual journal project presentation. I have a lot of frustration for this painting class and this midterm session only added to that.

Basically, we were given the choice to paint either the orchid or the chrysanthemum, or both, on a folding fan that we’d purchased. It could be literally anything, any composition, but it could only be using those two plants. I for some reason just couldn’t get the orchid down and was somehow painting the chrysanthemum better so I decided I was going to paint only chrysanthemums. We were given some time to practice and I felt good. My practice chrysanthemums were looking really nice and I was semi confident in myself. I even tried practicing the orchid because I had the chrysanthemum down.

I definitely think I could’ve done better in the midterm, but it’s really not as easy as it looks. The folding fan is not a flat surface as the paper is obviously very folded. The paper is a lot thicker and of a different texture than our practice paper, meaning it can hold different amounts of water before bleeding. The practice paper bleeds really easily so I adjusted, but when I tried to apply that to the fan, it was too little water and ultimately too dry.

I hated how the chrysanthemums were turning out on the fan so I put in an orchid. It also didn’t register that I could’ve created a visually interesting composition, but I kind of just threw multiple flowers together.

Now, that wasn’t even the worst of it. After we finished painting, my teacher gave each of us 10 sticky notes and told us to go around, look at everyone’s work, and put our sticky notes on our favorites. I thought this was messed up and humiliating because someone with a “meh” fan could have 20 votes because of their friends while someone else could have a better fan but only 5 votes. Some designs were definitely better than others and vice versa, but I didn’t like it. I felt like it was a public display of who had a “better/worse” fan, but art is subjective.

It didn’t really help that I got a whopping 4 notes (3 being from my own friends). I mean I wasn’t super happy with my work, but I think it deserved more votes than it got. My teacher said we had to upload a pic with the number of votes we got to the portal. I didn’t want the grade to be based on the number of votes because I’m pretty sure mine was one of the least favorites so I snuck in 3 pity votes from myself. It’s a little pathetic, but I was a little scared.

For my visual journal class, we were supposed to come up with a picture book story, create characters, and draw out a couple scenes. Some of the presentations were really impressive so I felt a little insecure about my work. Fortunately people liked my story idea so I felt a lot better. I won’t say much, but my story is about the little people behind traffic lights because I used to think people actually manually controlled the lights when I was younger. Here are my characters:

The next day we were finally introduced to colors in our painting class and had to paint flowers. It was hard to say the least. I can paint multicolored flowers with watercolors fine, but this was getting on my nerves.

To add to our list of visual journal field trips, we went to the National Museum of Korea where we were given an hour-long tour. My favorite part was the video that played on all the walls in the room.

My week kind of went downhill from there. Tuesday night was when I started feeling weird and then I woke up on Wednesday with a cold. Wednesday and Thursday were the worst days of my trip and I blame it on the weather/air. My friend Bianca thinks I got Covid from the club. Grace got sick after me and Bianca was fine so that kind of proved her wrong.

I left my room Thursday evening to get some food with Bianca. We revisited the pho restaurant and it made me feel a lot better.

I was trying my best to recover for the Friday field trip to Everland, an amusement park. I was looking forward to this trip for a while now so I definitely didn’t want to miss it. Unfortunately it was raining and the school emailed us saying that they weren’t going to cancel or postpone it. We suited up with cheap raincoats and umbrellas, and headed out.

The start of this trip was just another example of how unorganized this program is. We had an intern named Kyle leading us this time and he got us to the entrance at about 9:40 am. When the park opened at 10, we started going in before the staff stopped us.

Apparently, the school never bought us our tickets and didn’t tell Kyle either so he thought we were good to go when actually we weren’t. He had to go and buy 50 tickets. He would’ve probably known to buy tickets if he had all the money we paid, but if he didn’t know then I wonder if they had given him money to buy them. They better have paid him back if he had to use his own money. I felt bad for him but some people said how they didn’t and showed their annoyance.

There were literally no rides open because of the rain. We went on one roller coaster without our raincoats and came out pretty wet. After looking at the map, I saw that there were only three actual roller coasters which is disappointing because I thought it would match Great America. We found out there was a zoo attached to the park so we ended up spending most of our time there.

It was funny to see the animals hiding from the rain as well.

We went on a lot of safari rides where we saw many lions, tigers, and bears.

We even got to see a giraffe being fed up close!

We ended up doing a lot of indoor things like the 4d show, ghost shooting ride, and show with actors.

Everland was not as cool as my friend made it sound like. It was still fun and I made some new friends out of it. I hung out with Deborah, this girl I met when I first checked in, and her roommate for the day, and then her other friends that night. We went out for dinner together and even got bingsu for dessert.

It was interesting to see what kind of non art/STAMPS students were in the program. I found out one person in our group was from Uzbekistan and another was from Turkey but pursuing her PhD in Hong Kong.

They wanted to go to a karaoke place and we ended up staying there for over an hour. It was pretty fun, especially since we picked kpop songs with English and only sang the English.

To start off the weekend, Grace and I took a trip to the Myeongdong district. I liked the atmosphere because it was absolutely filled with street food vendors. There were also more foreigners than Hongdae which surprised me. We ended up leaving but vowing to come back for the vendors as they only accepted cash.

Later that evening we brought Bianca along and went to the Korean stew place from before. It was very good again.

Like I said, this week was a little lamer than I wanted it to be. The weather sucked and I got sick, but at least it ended better than it started. It feels weird that three whole weeks are gone and I only have one more week left. I know it will be bittersweet to leave, but I do want to go home.

-Elaine

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angelicdevil · 2 years

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So this is a realization that I’ve come to many times and finally figured out how to articulate

Some animated media does not take advantage of the fact that it’s animated

Often times I think the artists might forget that they can do things with animated compositions that they can’t with live action ones. Like with Dead End, there were a lot of instances where I felt it could’ve been animated better. (Note: This is not me hating on Dead End, I genuinely enjoy the show. It has a killer story and lovely characters and any problems I have with it honestly get better as the show goes on. It just had some animation that felt kinda awkward and stiff to me)

And that TENDS to happen with shows that prioritize a cutesy style over expressions. But the simple fact of animating the characters themselves is not enough to make an animated product lack in different components

Take for example Cuphead and Mao Mao. Cuphead, by nature of taking after the old cartoons that inspired it, has eye catching animation through cartoon physics and expression work. Mao Mao has both a different art style and animation style. They do a lot less exaggerated expressions and don’t often utilize cartoon physics, but they still have some of my favorite animation because of how they utilize the fact that they are an animated medium. Playing with proportion to emphasis a character’s yelling, using backgrounds for specific parts that emphasize what’s going on, if a character is not on screen but they want to show their expression they’ll put their head in a spot in the corner (and honestly that’s not even giving credit to their action scenes which are very good)

All to say you can make pictures that look very good but drawing still pictures and animating something incredible are two different skill sets (ones that can overlap but still)

#devil script #It’s all about the composition

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supercantaloupe · 1 year

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okay. my review of That New Opera A Composition Student Wrote At My University. short version: SO GOOD! genuinely one of the best english language operas i’ve seen yet tbh. i think it could use a little polish here and there but the foundation is solid. the production was very workshop, so i forgive it for being a little rough around the edges in spots; i would love to see it get fully staged at some point!!

i think the story is nice for what it is, and it was clearly written with a lot of heart. i don’t think it’s anything particularly groundbreaking but it does its job well, and reasonably affecting. it’s not a comedy but it has a decent number of jokes which i always appreciate. the staging was of course sparse -- barely a set, just some tables/chairs/a couch moved around here and there and a projected backdrop -- but again, workshop production in a rehearsal hall. this did affect how easy it was to even the actors at times (especially if you sat even only a couple of rows back, or when the actors were sitting or on the floor); it’d be better if it was on a stage in a theater with raked seating. but even if i couldn’t get a seat up front, i am not complaining, because the room was PACKED! the show literally started late because the crew was squeezing in extra rows of chairs in the back to accommodate how many people showed up to watch. the show did not get that much advertisement (at least that i saw) so the fact that SO many people showed up to support the company and the composer is so heartwarming. seriously so many people brought flowers and the cheers and applause at the top of the show when the composer introduced himself were overwhelming, and there was a big standing ovation at the end...rightfully deserved!! i think there were a few spots where the singers were a little out of tune with the orchestra (again, workshop production, less-than-ideal-performance space) or where the music sounded just a little bit Off, but by and large the music was really nice. genuinely i wish there was a recording i could download and listen to. the recits/ariosos were engaging, the arias were lovely, and the real highlights were the group numbers. the standouts for me (in ascending order of preference) were the act i trio, Rest My Child, A Banquet in Honor of Abel, and We Will Build a Home (boy do i wish you guys could’ve heard them)....i will seriously be humming that last one for the next week straight i think. the music definitely feels modern but not at all dense or unapproachable; i can definitely hear influence from the realm of musical theater, especially in the arias. i’ve heard or played a few things from this student before now and i’ve liked his prior work but woow he’s good. especially his multi-part voice writing. i want to hear him write more for chamber voices, because he knows how to use voices together. the cast was good, if a little quiet and hard to hear sometimes (again, the hall was not helping them out, and supertitles would’ve been nice), and the musicians were great -- it’s can be so daunting to play new music like that and they did such a great job (also i’m biased bc they’re all my friends from orchestra lol. but they seriously did great).

anyway, give this comp student his master’s already, he deserves it for REAL. what an accomplishment!! genuinely so impressed at the work he and the rest of the company put into everything, and i think the work has real potential outside of tonight’s premiere. to start with i think the university really ought to fully stage it, give it a proper production with full lights, sets, costumes, theater, etc. multiple performances. the whole shebang. and gd it is so nice to hear a new opera (and one in english!) that actually sounds good, and has heart and soul and poetry, and loves what it is, and is made by people who obviously love what they’re doing

#sasha speaks #sooo proud of them all!!! and sooo happy i went to go see it #granted i have not seen All That Many english language operas or operas in general yet but. this one was Good. it was #and i really want a recording to listen to already loll

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radiantpriamos · 2 years

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Return

He’d gotten a little stir-crazy, was all.

Priam hiked back through the now familiar woods and forests surrounding the monastery. Even back when he’d lived in his village on the island in Ylisse, he’d always known he wouldn’t stay there forever. There were always new paths to travel, new challengers to meet. Priam couldn’t stay still forever knowing what a spectacular world he lived in.

Even so… some places could be honored with the term home, he supposed. There was something beyond the crispness of the air and the scent of the trees that spurred him along. He was eager to cross the threshold of Garreg Mach again and meet up with old friends. Even better- he may find a few new ones.

The knights and students at the monastery always seemed to find themselves in some kind of extraordinary, life-or-limb trouble every few months.

He grinned at the thought of it. Good.

Ragnell was comfortably slung on his back, within reach as he traveled. He could’ve sworn he felt the sword glow, just a sensation of some kind of fleeting energy against him.

“What?” he said aloud. “You think I’m cocky? After all we’ve been through together, you know I take my training seriously.” The sword was silent, as though it was just a mundane blade. Priam had always felt differently. An object carried by someone for so long never stayed a mere composition of materials. Ragnell had seen many lifetimes, and he had no doubt the sword had senses of its own. He responded again, taking the silence as permission to do so. “Few can call themselves a match for me. I guess I kinda… do rush into things though.”

Years ago, he wouldn’t have called that a weakness. It was a matter of courage and action. A man was only as good as his capacity to fulfill his own words. A hero was nothing if he couldn’t stand for his beliefs and for those who needed him, right? His pursuit of strength had to have a purpose. He’d find his exact calling someday, but he knew instinctively his role was to be a warrior, someone who paved his own way. What was the point of life if one wasn't their own protagonist? In a play, he would have no issue taking center stage.

And yet, his hand subconsciously found a place at his side where he’d suffered a mortal wound before in one of those said life-or-limb dire circumstances. It was only by some miracle that he was given a second chance at life. He saw no reason to live less fully than before, but he still should have some sense of self preservation.

There might even be some people his absence would cause grief to.

That too, hurried him along. Priam was fine with following his own way in life, but he shouldn’t be so careless about others. Fit anywhere, that was fine. But what did he leave behind after melding into a community?

“I have a survival instinct,” he insisted to the sword. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Although, as he said it, it must’ve sounded contradictory. Priam was all for fresh air and pushing his limits, but most people wouldn’t have chosen the middle of winter to go hiking. He was fine, but he did have to rub his forearms for heat. Snow crunched under his boots and he sighed, watching the mist of his breath drift from him. What a genuine marvel seeing one’s own breath was. Life itself was just that vapor- precious and unpredictable, always moving and changing.

He crested a hill and he pushed his hair off his face, adjusting the ratty old headband with it. Nestled into the mountainside was Garreg Mach, as impressive as ever. Priam had about an hour’s walk left before he was inside those halls again, having something hot to eat at the dining hall. Meat, hopefully.

He set off with a spring in his step, unsure of exactly how many days he’d even been gone. If his calculations were right…

“You think I missed the ball?”

#//the new app #drabble #ic #//hewwo!#//he remembers all of his time here but i will be starting all new threads

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mycharacterdump · 9 months

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My Eleven and a Half Days At Priory Hospital North London

16 May, 2021

I don’t reckon I’ll be any good at this, but my counselor here says it’ll help me. I was stuck in intake for six hours, strapped to a hospital bed and poked and prodded and all that uncomfortable shit. I asked if they wanted a bone marrow donation as well, and that I had plenty below the belt. The nurse didn’t find it very funny. I thought it was hilarious. Thankfully, my psychiatrist and counselors think I’m a real riot, but they also say my humor is a crutch. Dunno about that. It’s not like I’m always making dick jokes. It is kind of hard not to when they just about molest you in order for you to be cleared here.

Anyway, I don’t know what else to write. My brain is foggy from the drugs they have me on. The sedatives haven’t worn off yet. I’ll get back to it in the morning.

Micah.

17 May, 2021

I had my first group therapy today. Listening to kids who haven’t even made it to college yet talk about slitting their wrists and microdosing Adderall is pretty fucking bleak. Some of them brought the composition notebooks we’re given at the beginning of our stay and read out of them. It made me realize I don’t really say much in mine. I’m a musician, not a writer. But I should give it a try. I will tomorrow. The medication I was put on when I got here is finally starting to wear off. I almost feel like I belong in my own skin again.

Micah.

18 May, 2021

Priory Hospital North London is the best of the best. I get an en-suite bedroom with my own bathroom and television and everything. I’ve been assured that there is no better place my parents could’ve sent me — aside from home, I told the nurse, who again wasn’t impressed. I don’t know why I’m kind of vying for the validation of people I normally couldn’t give less of a fuck about. I guess I’ll unpack that with my counselor in half an hour. Until then, I was given direction to write about what I remember before coming here. How I felt and the like. I can give that a try. I have to actually remember it first.

Tomorrow.

Micah.

19 May, 2021

On 15 May, my older sister Tallulah was called to hospital as she was the first person in my contacts list. I don’t remember how I got there. All I remember is the feeling of my heart in my throat and my blood pooling in my head and the ache of my bones underneath the cracked skin. I guess I got into a fight? I felt a sharp pain in my ribs for a few hours but the doctors said nothing was fractured or broken. It wouldn’t be my first time getting myself into trouble like that, but it must have been the worst since I woke up in a hospital room instead of my bed. All I can remember from before that is driving myself to band practice in my Mum’s car since I’ve never been trusted to own one. I barely got my driver’s license. I used to get angry at the idea that someone I never met could deduce whether or not I was entitled to a basic freedom, but I guess I understand now. I’m a lot different than other kids my age. Even the ones here, who are all fucked up with fucked up stories I can’t stomach. Half the shit they talk about has to be a joke. If it’s not, then I must be seriously demented. I think I am, because that’s all I can remember about that day. The persistent hurt that spread throughout my whole body until I was just one fast beating pulse.

Now that I think about it, that wasn’t the first time I felt that way. Like I was made of livewire. I think it was just the first time I recognized it for what it was.

Micah

20 May, 2021

I earned myself a day pass! Very proud of myself. I used it to go to the cinema. I don’t remember when I last went and sat down and watched a movie. Must have been at least a year, I’ve been so caught up with the band and schoolwork. I bought popcorn and chocolate and a large Dr. Pepper and watched Licorice Pizza, since it was the only appealing film at the box office. I thought it was funny. I don’t know how long it’s been since I laughed. It almost hurt. I showed off my ticket stubs in group today and made a fourth year red in the face because I know how to keep my cool and he throws tantrums whenever they run out of the green flavor of jello in the cafeteria. I thought he’d start foaming at the mouth. When I told this to my counselor, she said, “We can’t dehumanize our peers, Micah.” I almost said:

“Does it count if they weren’t human in the first place?”

But I didn’t. I should get another day pass based on self-control alone. That isn’t how it works, though. Figures.

Micah

21 May, 2021

Tomorrow is my 18th birthday. Mum and Dad already called to say they would be here, but Tal is stuck in New York. I think the whole thing that happened with me traumatized her. I feel guilty about it, even though I don’t remember. My counselor says it’s a good thing. Feeling like shit is good? I guess it proves I’m not a sociopath like everyone else seems to think. I promise I’m not. Sometimes I think I feel too much, like so much it actually hurts. I’ve been forced to experience life with the volume maxed. It’s why I can’t trust anyone, family included. Everything is always so loud and everyone is always shouting at me to snap out of it. Why can’t they see what I see? Or feel what I feel? It’d make everything so much fucking easier.

I guess I know what I’m wishing for tomorrow.

Micah

22 May, 2021

I’m 18. I didn’t think I would make it this far, to be honest with you. I and all my family figured I would have offed myself at this point. But I didn’t. I am still stuck in Priory, though. I didn’t have a terrible day. My mum and dad came to visit like they said they would, so I guess I was wrong for staying up all night thinking they wouldn’t and it was all just a sick prank. They brought me my favorite jumper to wear, it’s black with a red star knitted on the front. Jae got it for me for Christmas this past year. I wore it to sleep almost every night before my accident. They also got me a vanilla milkshake from a nearby shop that I could drink while we hung out in the fields behind the building.

“Just four more days,” Mum said, a kind of tired smile on her lips. I reached out and kissed her cheek, which was unlike me, because normally I’m not a very touchy person unless I’m super happy or sad. No in between.

The last thing I got was a Walkman. I’ve been asking for one for months because I’d grown out of my vinyl collecting phase. I wanted to walk around all my favorite parts of London with headphones on and listen to the crackling of static from a cassette instead of just dancing around my room. I value both very much still, but I’m excited to have my own cassette player and Straight Outta Compton as my first tape. I’m listening to it now.

Oh, one more thing: I got to text Jae. My parents brought me my phone and I was immediately confronted with a bunch of texts I never replied to, but the only person I could think of that was most deserving of a response was him. I only said, “I’m okay,” but I’ll give him a better explanation once I’m home.

But all of that isn’t why I’m writing now. I’m writing now because my mum told me the reason why I’m writing at all. I was afraid to know the truth, to be honest, but it was now or never. I was sipping on my milkshake while dad tried explaining to me the mechanics of my old but new Walkman while mum kept herself together as best she could.

I left the house at 6 A.M. It was rainy out. I had worn my band practice clothes overnight, which was what I was found in hours later: a cropped t-shirt (Ramones, because fuck the Sex Pistols), ripped skinny jeans with a studded belt, and my Doc Martens, none of which escaped the situation unscathed. I was walking around Camden in North London looking like someone dredged a raccoon in a vat of eyeliner and left it out to try on a clothespin. When I was found belly-up in the Moselle the police fished me out of the river and thankfully didn’t plant their greasy pig lips on mine because they realized I had not yet drowned, they did find traces of a white substance under my nose, and when I was brought to hospital they ran a thousand tests while I was incapacitated which deduced I had been high as fuck on, you guessed it, cocaine.

Another thing I couldn’t remember was supposedly getting into a fight with someone during my journey from my house to the river Moselle. My lip was split open and I had a gnarly black eye for a while. I’ve been told it could’ve been a lot worse. I guess they’re right. I could be dead.

But I’m not. I lived to see 18. Now I just have to see if I can make it to 27.

3,287 days to go.

Yes, I did the maths. I’m good at more than just drumming.

Micah

23 May, 2021

Some girl on my floor killed herself this morning. Her name was Eve, at least, that’s what we all called her. Whenever her mum would visit and refuse to call her anything except for Beula. I only learned after they unfastened the sheets she made into a noose that she had this grand delusion she was a reincarnation of the Eve from Genesis in the Bible. I should’ve seen it sooner, considering all she drew in the rec room were depictions of rainforests and unicorns that vomited candy; she also gave herself a sharpie tattoo of a snake that took up half of her arm. She thought I was taking the piss when I showed her my half-sleeve of crows I got at 16 and tried rubbing them off with all her brute strength. I nearly pinned her to the floor before a nurse intercepted. Six hours later she was dead.

I wish I could have said sorry. I feel like no one says it enough nowadays. They’re too concerned with I love you and I miss yous to think about the third forgotten sister: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I fucked up, that I did all that coke and forgot about it, I’m sorry I made you find me there, Tal, all pale and violently ill, I’m sorry I disappointed all of you, I know I was supposed to make right the wrongs of my predecessors and all that shit parents expect from you, and even though I’m a little bit sour about it I’m still sorry.

All of that to say we’ve been on lockdown since then. If it wasn’t selfish enough she killed herself, she let her parents foot the bill of not only her treatment at a highly prestigious institution, but also her funeral. I can’t say that out loud, though. I won’t even read this part to my counselor — who, thank the God that made Eve and all her psychotic daughters, firmly values privacy. (Unless I act too skittish. I never said the values were unconditional.)

Three more days and then I’m free.

Micah

24 May, 2021

There was a candlelight vigil held for Eve tonight after dinner. It kind of reminded me of a cult ritual, because I couldn’t recognize any of the church songs they were singing. I assume they were church songs, anyway. I think she would have liked that. People worshiping her and all. Clearly she didn’t get enough of that in life. Everyone in group read an excerpt from their notebooks except for me. I normally give them a taste of my brilliantly phrased word vomit, but I didn’t feel like I had enough good things to say, so I kept it to myself and only read some of what I’d written to my counselor so she knows I’ve been keeping up with what I promised I would.

Since I’m nearing the end of my stay, I’m receiving a lot of cards and gifts from other in patients. It’s made me realize I’ve never written about any of them aside from Eve, and even that took her dying for me to think to include in this notebook. Maybe because I know I won’t read this once I’m gone, so why immortalize them? I have fantasized about burning this fucking notebook since the day it was handed to me. But I’ll give it a try now, in case I feel differently by the time I leave.

Eve’s best friend was a micro internet celebrity named Amythest who had an impressive TikTok following and also had a self-diagnosed dissociative disorder. Everyone called her Amy before despite her insisting she was a we and they had a ‘system name’. Can’t remember it now, it was something cringe and stupid, but as of yesterday we’ve all been calling her by whatever she wants. I heard someone refer to her as Bakugou at lunch.

“Isn’t that an anime villain?” I spoke up. I’d never spoken to Amythest before.

Her brown eyes cut into mine suddenly, and I felt taken aback. I could tell she felt a little out of place not wearing cat ears and colored contacts. “My source material doesn’t define me.” she defended. I didn’t argue. I didn’t know how.

Next there’s Amythest’s secret partner, Sock, a nonbinary artist who was actually good at what they did. I am much more familiar with Sock’s realm within the queer universe than I am Amythest’s, admittedly. Half the kids I go to school with don’t confine to gender norms and sometimes I don’t either. Sock is mostly nice and for someone dating over three hundred alters manages each one with a grace I’ll never have.

Sock’s roommate Emily Yang, who deserves her full name being said, is the prettiest girl at Priory. She’s half-Korean with nice sunkissed skin and blue, blue eyes, has her hair dyed half blonde, wears all-black no matter the occasion since her stay was planned and not as emergent as mine and she actually had a bag assembled, has had a fancy bipolar diagnosis since she was 14, and because of all that she and I are who get along the best. We both have a deep appreciation for American west coast rap and have spent countless nights staying up past curfew to smoke contraband cigarettes in the fields and listen to my one cassette tape.

My counselor thinks I’m in love with her. I only have four words to answer that question:

I AM A FAGGOT!

Anyway, Emily went to the vigil while I lingered behind. When she got back she told me I didn’t miss much, only Amythest sobbing so hard she ‘switched’ into her protective alter named Mysterion, and when I said, “Isn’t that from South Park?” Emily and I stared at one another before we started laughing. I think Eve would laugh too. We’re all kind of fucking ridiculous in the end.

Micah

25 May, 2021

I had my final group discussion, final rec room argument with Amythest and two of her alters, final breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining hall, and was excused to my room early since I have a big day tomorrow. All my things have been packed for me — Emily insisted. She’s the best. I’m now sitting at my desk eating a bread and butter pudding I stole from the cafeteria and snuck in, watching the sunset on my last full day at Priory Hospital North London.

I’ll be honest, I don’t entirely know what I got out of this experience minus some trauma and a new friend. I feel calmer now thanks to the new drug cocktail they have me on, which I’ve been forced into taking everyday as per my schedule that they’ve INSISTED I maintain while I’m away. Like I’ll be coming back soon. I guess people expect less of me than I already assumed.

Emily told me it’s my chance to prove them wrong. So I’m going to do that.

Micah

26 May, 2021

I’m giving this notebook to Emily so she can carry on my legacy. She needs it more, anyway. She doesn’t know when she’s going home. I hope it’s soon. It’s forbidden for us to keep in contact after we leave, as we might feed off of one another’s bad habits etc., etc., but I wrote my Insta in morse code at the back of this notebook for her to try and figure out. Only thing that huge library we have did for me, give me infinite knowledge of absolutely nothing applicable to real life. Until this moment.

For now, I’m going home, and I am never doing drugs again. Minus pot. I’ll even buy one of those D.A.R.E. shirts. That’s how serious I am.

So long and goodnight.

Micah

#micah — character study.#self-para #3k words

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