#for six decades' affect on one's identity!
Note
Have you written much on your “mind meld as a coping mechanism” idea. I’ve read a lot of your thoughts on Tuvok but haven’t run into that one
I'm warning you right now this got so out of hand. If you want a shorter answer you can uhh scroll down until you get to the part where I talk about Suder bc for some reason I spent a while (some might say, too long) talking about Vulcan bonds as I see them in general.
SO!
Humans, right? Humans are creatures who love fiercely and have a lot of strong emotions within that love. However, they always retain their separate identities. No matter how much Anne loves Lucy she can only know Lucy through what bits and pieces Lucy tells her. Even if theoretically Lucy told Anne every thought of hers as she said it, Anne wouldn’t know how she’d arrived at that thought (unless explained) and even in that explanation, Lucy as a person would not have arrived at that thought in a vacuum.
A simplified example: Lucy says “I don’t like apples.” and when Anne asks why Lucy says she doesn’t like them because she ate one that had a worm in it. However, this still is not a full understanding of Lucy - it is an understanding of Lucy as Lucy sees herself/her history.
Using Tuvok and T’Pel as an example - Tuvok, pre-canon, is half of T’Pel. His thoughts make up her thoughts and vice versa. He did not originally come into the world as part of her but he has lived and grown the last six or so decades as part of her.
If Tuvok says “I don’t like apples” T’Pel might ask why to see why he believes he doesn’t like apples but she also has access to something deeper than his words. She has access to his thoughts and feelings and ostensibly his entire life.
When Tuvok melds with Janeway, she is able to observe the events of his life. He can will her there to experience them if he only thinks about a specific moment. This implies to me that Vulcans who are bonded could do the same with one another. So they have access to far more information than a human would.
1 “I don’t like apples” information
2 “I don’t like apples because I ate one that had a worm in it” information
3 T’Pel can feel the emotions and is aware of the thoughts that the topic brings up
4 T’Pel could, if they both chose, go back and observe the moment he is describing to her
T’Pel can comment on/interact with Tuvok’s statement on many different levels, if she chooses. It’s a very deep connection and can lead to an intensely rich understanding of someone else which it obviously has in the case of Tuvok and T’Pel since he’s clearly deeply in love with her and wishes to be with her. (It’s shown as his greatest desire point blank on the show).
I say this to uhh justify my thought process which is that Tuvok is
1 Missing his other half (literally)
2 Ostensibly on a ship for seventy years with people who could never understand him the same way he’s used to being understood
It’s as if a part of his brain was cut out. I wonder if he can feel the blank spaces where T’Pel would normally be when he thinks.
It’s a very different type of communication and though Tuvok is used to working with humans (and other aliens) he’s also used to at some point going home and being with his family. You’re not supposed to be understood intimately by your colleagues, it’s fine to just ‘chat’ with them - you have friends and family at home.
What I’m saying is that while everyone else on Voyager might be able to make the switch to “Okay, these people are all I’m ever going to have so I’ll get to know them on a more intimate level” and like, talk about deeper things and thus forge stronger bonds - making them legitimate friends and family, Tuvok would not be able to. Both on a personal level (he seems to naturally be a more introverted person) and on an ‘Alien Communication’ level.
Tuvok can explain why he doesn’t like apples all damn day but it still won’t even come close to the intimacy that his bonds with T’Pel and the rest of his family provided him because it’s a fundamentally different and alien form of a communication which cannot be replicated through human speech/relationships.
However, a mind meld…
Mind Melding has been likened to sex by plenty of people and I can see why (‘becoming one’ in the human sense is closest to sex - bodies joined, and trust me I will liken it to sex before I’m done here today) but in this case for my argument I’m likening it to a general intimacy/bond.
Again, Tuvok is
1 Missing his other half (literally)
2 On a ship for seventy years with people who could never understand him the same way he’s used to being understood
Mind Melding rectifies both of these. He becomes one mind, briefly, with another person and because he is of one mind with that other person he is also understood by them (again briefly). For the time he’s melded he’s made whole.
Mind Melding, interestingly, also seems to mimic a Vulcan bond in that it taps into emotions. In the show the highly gendered nature of Pon Farr is worrying to me so I’m going to tweak it a BIT in MY canon and say that every Vulcan can go through Pon Farr and it just depends on who goes through it first in a bonded pair.
So, say T’Pel is going through Pon Farr - Tuvok is not. Tuvok, while affected by T’Pel’s pon farr, is able to stabilize her emotions a bit through his retained control. This is why Vulcans seem to get married chiefly when their Pon Farrs dictate it. Before then there’s no need as they can regulate their emotions by themselves. Pon Farr introduces a need for a partner - not just to have sex with but to help balance them.
Vulcan Bonds:
Allow for a person to be intimately understood by those they are bonded to
Allow for other intimacies such as romantic affection (the Vulcan ‘kiss’ comes to mind) or comfort (When Tuvok is suffering from PTSD he says that the typical treatment for such a thing is a mind meld with a family member so they can help the person suffering to process their traumatic experience)
Allow for the regulation of emotions by the ‘balancing’ force of one’s partner
Tuvok is the only Vulcan to be ripped away from all his bonds and be unable to access any of this. This must leave him not only extremely lonely but also unbalanced. I wonder if he has the sensation of not being able to “think right” or as smoothly as he once could - or perhaps too smoothly even, since it’s just him.
He is also a person who, notably, mind melds with others a lot. It’s a thing that a lot of people have picked up on! And yes on a base level this could be laziness on the writers’ part but I’M ALL ABOUT LOOKING TOO DEEP INTO THINGS. SO.
What I’M saying is that the reason he mind melds with others so much more than other Vulcans is BECAUSE he’s in the delta quadrant, stranded from others.
Mind Melds in this case are (and here we go!) akin to having a one night stand just because you can’t stand your bed being empty. It doesn’t matter who it is, you just need someone there.
(Yes this is OBLIGATORY)
Tuvok has an incredibly weak excuse for why he should mind meld with Suder. He says it's simply because he can’t accept that there’s no reason Suder killed someone.
It is, in fact, not at ALL important that he understand why Suder killed Darwin. Suder has been apprehended, he had no accomplices, the case is done. Logically there’s absolutely no reason for Tuvok to mind meld with Suder. He even acknowledges that it’s risky to do and yet he does it anyway.
Perhaps this is because Tuvok has no ‘balancing’ influence to deter him from the idea or because his loneliness has turned into a desperation - where there is an opportunity to mind meld with another, his loneliness pushes him towards doing so even when it’s not logical to.
TLDR; Tuvok is lonely, craves intimacy and feels ‘off’ or like a part of him is missing. He is also intensely loyal to T’Pel and thus will not take another mate so instead he mind melds with random people at the drop of a hat. Even when it’s dangerous or illogical to do so. Microdosing on intimacy and feeling whole.
So…um…I hope this was sort of interesting and not too incoherent. THANK YOU BYE!!!
#ohhh you know things got out of hand when you put that one mitski lyric in (you know the one <3)#U M... <3 Sorry for being a freak about Tuvok It Will Happen Again Constantly#Also I use very decisive language here but that's just bc it would be annoying to read me saying 'I think' or 'My interpretation is'#every few seconds#Q&A#Tuvok#Vulcans#liquidink21#THIS IS LONG ;; I Like Him .... The Tragedy of Tuvok....;;#oh I forgot to say that we know mind melding affects identity bc Tuvok point blank says that melding with Suder allows each of them#to derive elements of each others personalities and we see it has a strong affect after only one meld - imagine a constant meld#for six decades' affect on one's identity!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
December 2023 Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe
I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.
The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon
Despite how much promise there is in the premise of this novel I was ultimately fairly disappointed by it. I'll start with the positives: it's set in a diverse and creative fantasy world with multiple different countries and cultures. It has several queer characters, including one of the four POV characters. It has dragons, even though I think they were severely under-utilized. It is also far too long, and astonishingly, nearly every scene in the book felt rushed. I think it actually had too much plot; if I had been editing this book I would have suggested the author cut one of the POV characters and use the freed-up space to flesh out the queer love story, which was the emotional heart of the book. This book is marketed as adult fantasy, yet whenever a character is in serious danger they are nearly always rescued by a talking animal with super-speed abilities. Choices like this book made the book read younger than I expected. It also suffered, perhaps unfairly, due to the fact I read a book with a much smarter and more interesting use of dragons, human/dragon cultural tensions, and dragon politics earlier this year: Seraphina by Rachel Hartman, which I would recommend over Priory any day of the week.
Red Paint: The Ancestral Autobiography of a Coast Salish Punk by Sasha taqʷšəblu LaPointe
Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe is a Coast Salish poet and punk who digs deep into the lineage of women in her family searching for connection, strength, and healing. While writing a Master's thesis, LaPointe opened the door to memories of a childhood sexual assault, precarious runaway teen years, and the intergenerational trauma that affected all of her family after the colonization of the Pacific Northwest. The memories that surfaced shattered her life. The path to picking up the pieces was slow, and involved traditional healing ceremonies, friendship, writing, music, and multiple journeys to places where her female ancestors once lived. I found this book very quick and easy to read despite the often heavy subject matter (it also includes a divorce and a miscarriage). Some passages are quite beautiful, but the author was an emotional mess for most of the time period she recounts and behaved in some questionable ways towards many of those around her. It ends on a hopeful note, and I would recommend it, especially to people with connections to the PNW area, while keeping the content warnings in mind.
Golden Fool by Robin Hobb read by Nick Taylor
I hardly even know how to talk about this book because I loved it so much. It's a rich, nuanced, painfully human follow up to the earlier Farseer trilogy. I am amazed at how deftly Hobb wove the narratives of her characters across three decades of their lives and counting. There's Fitz, the royal bastard and reluctant assassin, who we first met at age six. Now in his mid-thirties, he is finally exploring his magical talents, teaching, learning, and taking more and more misfit young people under his wing. There's Chade, who we first met at a mysterious and wise teacher- now he's a royal advisor, and his hunger for power and influence might yet take him down a very dark path. There's Kettricken, who as a teenage princess was engaged to a stranger, now grown into a powerful queen bent on changing her kingdom for the better. There's the Fool, whose multiple identities are threatening to collapse as more and more of his prophesies come true. And Burrich, Fitz's adopted father figure, who in his anger and grief disowns a son who reminds him too much of his past. All of these characters feel so deeply rooted in their own histories, traumas, choices; I care so deeply about their lives and see so clearly how the twists of fate led them to where they are now. This is seriously one of the best fantasy series I have ever read, and I highly recommend anyone who loves long form fantasy to go back and pick up book one, Assassin's Apprentice.
The Well by Jacob Wyatt and Choo
Lizzy lives with her grandfather on one of many small islands in an world plagued by mist and monsters. Her mother, father, and grandmother all died fighting against the leviathan that used to threaten the seas between the islands; Lizzy has heard the stories, but never knew any of them. Her daily concerns are with goats, the market where she sells their cheese and milk, and her crush on a girl who works the island ferry. Magic doesn't regularly touch her life, except when she foolishly steals three coins from a wishing well, and is then tasked with completing the three wishes that are bound to them. This story has much the feel of a fairy tale with it's orphaned protagonist, three wishes, three tasks, and characters who are often more archetype than fleshed out people. But it manages a sweetly emotional ending and simple but lively and effective illustrations.
The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles read by Martyn Swain
Set in England during the reign of King George the third, this historical romance delivered a satisfying amount of plot along with the spice. Gareth is the son of a Baronet, but grew up with none of the privilege of that position having been send away from home after the death of his mother during his childhood. He works as a law clerk in London with few connections, no friends, and nothing much to recommend him. He seeks companionship at a tavern that turns a blind eye on the illicit sexual activities of men in the upper rooms. There he meets Kent, a working class man from Romney Marsh, with whom Gareth sparks an intense and intimate connection. Then it falls apart. Gareth is sacked from his job. He fights with Kent. His father dies unexpectedly, and Gareth is summoned to a manor house he hasn't seen in years to take on the responsibilities of a title, including the care of a teenage half-sister and his father's mistress. And by chance, the house Gareth inherits is in Romney Marsh, home of many waterways, pastures, smugglers, and also Kent, his former lover. I enjoyed the dynamic between the two romantic leads, and the crime plot which entangled both of them. If you are interested in R-rated M/M romance with action adventure and danger, I'd definitely recommend this series and also KJ Charles' Will Darling series.
Subtle Blood by KJ Charles read by read by Cornell Collins
A very satisfying installment in the Will Darling adventures! If this is the final book, I am happy with where it's left the characters, but it does also leave the door open for more. If you enjoy spicy M/M romance with a hefty side of action/adventure, this is a great series. It kept me company through a week of holiday cleaning, cooking, and baking, and I think it's my favorite yet from the series.
Death Strikes: The Emperor of Atlantis by Dave Maass & Patrick Lay
This comic is grim, funny, gory, and darkly poetic. It's impossible to read it without an awareness of the history of the script, which is based on a suppressed opera written in 1943 two prisoners at the Terezín concentration camp in Czechoslovakia. The authors did not live to see their play performed. Maass and Lay have done an impressive job transferring a story meant for the stage into a comic. The stars of the show are the characters of Life and Death who narrative and frame the story of a paranoid dictator in the fictional nation of Atlantis and his reign of terror against his own citizens.
The Cliff by Manon Debaye
This was beautifully illustrated but too sad and violent for me to enjoy reading. It's the story of a dysfunctional middle school friendship between two unhappy girls who make a suicide pact. This story will really hit for some readers but it wasn't for me.
Walkaway by Cory Doctorow
I really enjoyed this book, even thought I think it's more interesting as a collection of ideas than as a novel. The characters in the first third felt somewhat flat, and the dialog is often delivered in hefty paragraphs with minimal dialog tags. But the story picks up in the second half and by the end I was reading it daily in big chunks. The concepts this book explores are what really shine, especially the idea of walking away from capitalist society and living in self-sustaining communities without formal governments or laws. This novel contains some future technology which we don't currently have today including 3D printers which can print food, clothing, and building pieces for vehicles and housing and also internet interfaces implanted into people's bodies which allow them global network access from anywhere almost all the time. The nation state of Canada also seems to have fallen before the start of this novel, as most of the characters end up walking away from the US into northern Canada to find these alternate communities. I liked seeing Doctorow play out the clash between on faction wanting to run a group house as a meritocracy versus another group committed to allowing all members to work as much or little as they want to or can, for example. The book does not shy away from showing the violent crack down of the existing governments on these alternate communities. There are major character deaths. But the other big theme of the book is exploring the digital scanning and uploading of human consciousnesses to the web allowed people to walk away from death.
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
This Lovely Enigma
For @catboyjamesbond. The prompt: Royalty AU Azris, Eris is king and needs a consort. Azriel is the one who catches his eye.
Azris ✦ Rated M ✦ 2.5k words (yeah ik) ✦ on AO3
"The Ruler shall take a consort within a year of their coronation lest they forfeit the title to the Heir. The Crown is too heavy a burden to bear alone."
Eris knows that particular stipulation so well that he sees it in his dreams and behind his eyelids whenever he blinks.
His crown hits the ornately carved walnut throne with a dull thud as Eris looks to the paned glass dome of the ceiling above the dais in the empty throne room and groans.
A wry laugh echoes from his left, “Ah, let me guess: woe is me, I am but a king facing the truly arduous task of choosing a partner from a selection of the most competent and beautiful of my subjects.”
Callan has been Eris’s most loyal guard for nearly a decade. Eris would never allow such flippant sarcasm in public or from any other member of his staff, but Callan is the closest thing he has to a friend, not counting Eris’s brothers.
“I just don’t understand why my ancestors felt that such a useless clause would be one of the few immovable laws. Why do I need a consort in order to keep the title that is rightfully mine? I’ve been perfectly fine on my own so far,” Eris allows a granule of petulance to lace his words.
Cal just smiles and softly shakes his head. It’s unsettling to witness because that gesture is identical to one his mother often makes.
“There’s nothing that can be done to change it, you know that. It’s been six months since your father’s passing—stars smile gently on his soul even though he was a right bastard—and now that the mourning period is coming to a close you know you can’t afford to waste another minute. This way you are giving yourself a little time to get to know them at least.”
“If I meet them today,” Eris points out, tracing the vines carved into the throne’s arm with a ringed finger.
Knowing it’s better to voice his feelings than quash them, Eris sighs and begrudgingly continues the thought, “What if I can’t stand any of the people I meet today? Aren’t they all the children of the gentry? I don’t care about liking them, but I need to be able to tolerate them. You know how I hate sycophants, and that’s all they’re going to be—hoping that they can woo their way into the royal family and a better title.”
“Defeatism does not suit you, dear.” Serafina Vanserra, the Queen Mother, approaches the throne at an elegant glide.
Eris rises and descends the three steps of the dais. “And black did not suit you, Mother. It’s wonderful to see you in color again.”
She’s donned a wine-red gown for the occasion, the rich color making her fair skin appear lit from within. The black they’d been wearing always made her look sickly pale. This, Eris thinks, is a very welcome change.
Her lightly painted lips tug up in a smirk. “Flattery, while always welcome, will not divert my attention, Eris. Try having a little more faith in humanity. Giving up before the race has begun is the quickest way to ensure defeat.”
“I know,” Eris agrees. She’s right, of course, she is. He knows that he frequently walks the line between realism and pessimism and, while such an attitude guarantees that he is always prepared for worst-case scenarios and puts secondary measures in place for every plan, it is not an ideal outlook for the day ahead of him.
His mother raises a brow, waiting.
“I promise to try,” Eris tells her. “I wouldn’t have bothered setting up this whole affair if I did not intend to make an attempt. It would have been far more efficient to simply select a name from a list but, believe it or not, my heart is not made of stone.”
“I know that, darling.” Her hand is soft and warm, the touch to his cheek a brief allowance of the affection that they’d been denied for so many years. “But it’s my hope that you will permit others to learn this as well.”
The ‘now that he’s gone’ hangs unspoken in the air between them.
“I hope so too,” Eris replies. It’s the best he can do while remaining honest.
Hope, an ember banked for years upon years has, against every odd, retained its glow. Eris might even go as far as to say that, since his father’s death, the ember has sparked a flame.
✦ ✦ ✦
Azriel tries his best to hold still while his mother fusses with his jacket collar, but he’s restless.
“There,” Zahra smiles proudly as she steps to the side so he can view his reflection in the long mirror.
He scarcely recognizes the man staring back at him. His typically unruly hair is swept back off his forehead and tamed by something that smells faintly sweet. The clothes he’s wearing are finer than anything he’s owned before. The jacket is sapphire blue, laced up the back in gold—the same gold laces that begin at his wrists and end at his forearms.
He’d thought the process of donning the garment ridiculously complicated, but Azriel can’t help thinking that the effect might be worth the effort. He looks… elegant? Everything is tighter than he’s used to. The jacket clings to the curve of his waist, and the breadth of his shoulders. The trousers are impossibly soft and fit like a second skin. His boots are supple black leather and buffed to a shine.
It’s not just the clothes though. What really makes his reflection so foreign is the tint on his lips and cheeks, making it appear like he’s slightly flushed; it’s the hint of kohl smudged into his lashes and bringing a new brightness to his eyes.
“My beautiful boy, my Azriel. Look at you,” his mother murmurs and the rosiness of his cheeks darkens at the sheer pride in her voice.
“Thank you,” for this, for everything. The emotional rasp of his words embarrasses him.
It’s a public secret that Azriel is Lord Blackwell’s bastard despite his father’s begrudging formal claim. He’s certain that, had the decision been left to his father alone, he would have turned them out on the street. It had only been his paternal grandmother, to whom his mother was and is chief caregiver, threatening to change her will and cut him off that made the lord claim Azriel as his own.
Sometimes, less often now than when he was young, Azriel wonders if life may have been better had they been forced to fend for themselves. It’s a notion he quickly shakes off. Who’s to say what could have happened? It was pointless to dwell upon.
“I’ve raised you for this, there’s no need to be anxious.” She takes his fidgeting hands in her own, thumbs tracing arcs over the pale web of scars.
“I know,” Azriel assures her, dropping her hands with a squeeze to pull on his gloves. Knowing that he is thoroughly prepared has no effect on how he feels though.
Only a fool wouldn’t be nervous before being presented as a potential consort to the king.
Azriel has caught glimpses of the then-prince now-king over the years, but there’s one memory that stands above all the rest:
He was five and hiding from his brothers. Azriel had wandered into the stable as he often did and climbed the rickety ladder into the hayloft.
Unlike all those previous afternoons spent up there, however, the hayloft was already occupied. A red-haired boy was sitting on his heels on the far side, his hand outstretched to something in the hay.
“What are you doing?” Azriel asked as he approached.
The boy startled, his honey-colored eyes narrowing at Azriel. “Who are you?”
“My name is Azriel. Who are you?”
“You don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?”
The boy had laughed then and beckoned him over to come see.
One of the barn cats had given birth to a litter of kittens. Azriel forgot all about his brothers as they passed the afternoon watching the kittens stumble around each other as their mother took turns licking them down.
It was only after the boy left that Azriel realized he’d never been told his name.
The next time he saw the boy, a few months later, he was crossing the west courtyard with his mother.
“Bow!” She hissed at him, dropping into a graceful curtsey as the boy and two guards walked past them. Azriel bent at the waist, waiting for his mother to rise before straightening his spine.
“Who was that, Mother?”
She looked at him, astonished. “That was Prince Eris. One day he will be our king.”
“Oh.”
It’s childish but, as Azriel makes his way down to the carriage his grandmother has arranged to take him to the palace, he can’t help wondering if Eris will remember him. If, maybe, he will look at Azriel and be reminded of golden dust motes and the sweet smell of hay just as Azriel is whenever he sees the king.
He chides himself for being foolish as the carriage trundles through the city streets. He cannot afford to let something as asinine as sentiment distract him. This is his only opportunity to secure a better life for his mother, and he refuses to jeopardize it because of one afternoon a lifetime ago, even if that afternoon is one of the best he’s ever had.
✦ ✦ ✦
Eris smiles politely as the next prospect is introduced. The firstborn of Lord Arminta has an education overseen by a herd of tutors and an admittedly impressive number of instruments they play proficiently. They’re beautiful in the way a painting is beautiful—attention grabbing and pleasing to the eye—but Eris carries out a brief conversation with them as he has with everyone else who has been escorted through the throne room doors and feels nothing.
As they go to join the other dozen prospects already milling about the refreshment tables, Eris leans over to ask his mother, “How many more are there?”
“You’re about halfway through.”
Eris swallows his groan, kings aren’t allowed. Callan’s posted by the doors and Eris looks at him with a subtle nod, signifying that he should send the next one in.
A hush falls over the room as the doors swing open to reveal what may just be the most striking person Eris has ever seen. Familiarity nags at him but he can’t recall why.
“Azriel Blackwell, he is the son of Lord Blackwell,” his mother supplies as she’s done for all the others.
Azriel.
Azriel.
Somehow he knows that name, but he’s too distracted by the sight of his present to wonder about the past. Sharp hazel eyes watch him from a face that would not have been out of place on one of the statues in the sculpture gallery. This is a man who has been crafted by a mastered and magnanimous hand. His clothes are well-tailored, hinting at the power of lean muscles and showcasing elegantly proportioned limbs.
The way he moves, grace belying strength, reminds Eris of a mountain lion, and yet those lovely eyes betray him. He’s not as confident as he is pretending to be, but Eris can hardly fault him for that.
Before the thought is fully formed, Eris stands as Azriel stops before the dais. He’s remained seated for the others but something is urging him to go to him so he does.
Azriel’s eyes widen before they drop to the floor, and he quickly folds into a bow.
Eris doesn’t stop until he’s only an arm’s length away. “Rise,” he bids. His voice is softer than intended.
Azriel does, but his eyes remain fixed on Eris’s boots. Eris is only an inch or two taller than him which is a nice change.
“Have we met before?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Once, when we were children.” Azriel’s voice is rich and smooth, and Eris grins a little because he finds it pleasing.
“Azriel,” Eris ponders aloud. It’s a beautiful name, unusual too. So why can’t he… “Kittens in the hayloft.”
Finally, Azriel looks up at him and there’s a questioning intensity in his gaze that sends a thrill up Eris’s spine. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Eris’s smile widens, and he dares to hope it’s that expression which causes a soft grin to spread on Azriel’s face.
“By the stars,” Eris muses, scarcely resisting the urge to trace the curve of Azriel’s lower lip with his thumb, to press and see if that mouth would open to him.
“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” Azriel inquires carefully.
“Far from it.” It’s just that his memory of a small scrawny boy with dirt on his forehead and a scraped knee poking through a hole in his trousers is difficult to reconcile with the person who stands before him now. “You’re rather exquisite, you know.”
This time, Eris allows himself an indulgence. He brushes a dark curl off Azriel’s forehead where it had fallen out of place with his bow.
Whether Azriel’s beautiful blush is the result of the compliment or Eris’s touch, Eris doesn’t care—either is a delightful prospect.
“Your Majesty is too kind,” Azriel says, dipping his head as if it will conceal the color on his golden brown cheeks.
“I assure you I am no such thing,” Eris huffs a laugh. “But if you fear my words are contrived, allow me to press upon you the sincerity of my confession over tea?”
“Tea, Your Majesty?” Azriel looks confused and Eris thinks it’s rather adorable.
“Yes.” Eris glances over his shoulder, giving his mother a pointed look which is met with a pleased grin. “I’m very curious to learn more about you, Azriel. If you’ll do me the honor of joining me?” On impulse, Eris holds out his hand.
“The honor is mine, Your Majesty. I find myself plagued by a similar curiosity.” There’s a hint of a smirk in Azriel’s polite smile, an edge of something that Eris cannot wait to unearth.
Azriel takes his hand but, to Eris’s dismay, he’s wearing gloves. That won’t do. Eris needs this man’s skin beneath his fingers. He takes Azriel’s wrist in one hand and tugs off the glove with the other, bowing to press a lingering kiss to his scarred knuckles.
Eris’s thumb trails over the ridges and divots. When he glances up at Azriel, he’s surprised to see the man’s eyes wide in horror. That won’t do either.
Of course, Eris had anticipated that he’d worn the gloves for a reason, but he didn’t care about how the scars felt though he was curious to know how they got there and knew he wouldn’t like the eventual answer.
Holding Azriel’s gaze, Eris lifts his hand to his lips this time. “Beautiful,” he says, then kisses the word into the scarred skin.
Azriel inhales sharply; the sound wavering a little even as the tense set of his shoulders vanishes.
Not yet willing to release this lovely enigma named Azriel, Eris tucks his hand into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we get that tea, then?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Azriel says, fingers flexing on Eris’s arm.
Oh yes, I intend to be.
“The pleasure,” Eris lets some of the hunger stirring in his gut fill his gaze, “is all mine, Azriel.”
✦ ✦ ✦
tagging: @damedechance @ablogofsapphicpanic @iftheshoef1tz @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @the-lonelybarricade @krem-does-stuff @octobers-veryown @foundress0fnothing @melonsfantasyworld @fieldofdaisiies @lady-riel @queercontrarian @valkyrieassassin @brokeneveningstars @areyoudreaminof @itsthedoodle @xtaketwox @talons-and-teeth @thelovelymadone
#azris#azris fanfiction#azris fanfic#azriel x eris#eris x azriel#eris vanserra#eris acotar#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel's mom#lady of the autumn court#lady vanserra#acotar fanfiction#acotar#royalty au#acotar au#acotar ao3#kate's celebratory drabbles series
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jean Valjean and Javert’s last confrontation begins with the two of them both being unable to open the same gate, because it’s locked with the same type of padlocks used in prisons. Jean Valjean can’t get out of the sewers, and Javert can’t get in, because neither of them can get past a barred prison door.
It’s like a metaphor for the way that the trauma/stigma of prison continues to affect both of their lives— the way that figurative prison bars can suddenly appear anywhere in society, when they least expect it, and create a barrier against them.
The first thing we’re told about the sewer gate is that it’s constructed like a prison door:
The (sewer) ended like the interior of a funnel; a faulty construction, imitated from the wickets of penitentiaries, logical in a prison, illogical in a sewer (...) the grating, which, to all appearance, rarely swung on its rusty hinges, was clamped to its stone jamb by a thick lock, which, red with rust, seemed like an enormous brick. The keyhole could be seen, and the robust latch, deeply sunk in the iron staple. The door was plainly double-locked. It was one of those prison locks which old Paris was so fond of lavishing.
Thenardier can slip in and out of the sewers as he pleases because he has a ‘government key”, but Jean Valjean and Javert just can’t.
Jean Valjean reaches the sewer grate and desperately tries to shake the bars loose:
Jean Valjean laid Marius down along the wall, on the dry portion of the vaulting, then he went to the grating and clenched both fists round the bars; the shock which he gave it was frenzied, but it did not move. The grating did not stir. Jean Valjean seized the bars one after the other, in the hope that he might be able to tear away the least solid, and to make of it a lever wherewith to raise the door or to break the lock. Not a bar stirred.
Javert reaches the gate and attempts to open it by gazing at it angrily but when “this gaze does not suffice” he, like Valjean, grabs the bars and tries to shake it open:
The man folded his arms and stared at the grating with an air of reproach. As this gaze did not suffice, he tried to thrust it aside; he shook it, it resisted solidly.
(Javert then waits outside the gate steaming in impotent fury for what we later find out was six hours.)
Valjean has a breakdown over how “he’s only succeeded in escaping into a prison.” Escape is impossible for him because the threat of prison is always there, is omnipresent— which is something we’ve seen throughout the entire novel.
Meanwhile Javert has a miniature breakdown over how Thenardier had gotten his hands on “a government key”— which feels to me like he’s so tired of dealing with moral ambiguity. He doesn’t want any more evidence that authorities might be Bad/ ineffective/ corrupt. He is furious about the implications of a criminal owning a government key and does not want to think about it:
This evidence suddenly burst upon the mind of the man who was trying to move the grating, and evoked from him this indignant ejaculation: “That is too much! A government key!” Then, immediately regaining his composure, he expressed a whole world of interior ideas by this outburst of monosyllables accented almost ironically: “Come! Come! Come! Come!”
Side note: I used to think Javert didn’t show any signs of being affected by the barricade until he met Valjean again; but now I think he’s clearly off-kilter even before that.
It feels so obviously symbolic of how much the trauma of prison is still affecting both of their lives? Neither of them are capable of escaping the system that abused them. Prison is evil, and it continues to be evil to them long after they’ve “made it out.” Its effects are present everywhere. There is nothing they can do to truly escape it.
After all these years— after Jean Valjean spends years hiding everything about his identity to become a “perfect bourgeois gentleman,” and after Javert spends decades as a police inspector who mindlessly violently obeys authority — they’re both still rendered powerless by a prison door locked in their face.
#Les mis#javert#Valjean#Valjean/javert parallels#anyway#guess who’s hyper analyzing the significance of minor details in Les mis at 3am????#me again I’m back#insomnia Les mis posts#i miss writing unhinged 3am Les mis essays
211 notes
·
View notes
Text
Homo Oblivious — ARROWSMITH
Written by Victoria Amelina: "Giving up the Ukrainian language and embracing Russian instead, the “language of the unity of nations” as the Soviets called it, was common. Hanna’s children never returned to their native language, even after Ukraine achieved independence. Forgetting had become a way to survive and even prosper in the USSR; often it worked too well. But a couple of times, after a shot of cognac, I heard one of Hanna's sons suddenly speaking perfect Ukrainian. One could assume he needed the cognac for courage — as though the regime were still executing Ukrainian artists and scholars. As if the regime were still starving millions of Ukrainian peasants to death.
Hanna and her son spoke to each other in different languages until the end. She never made it home. We buried her on a cold day at one of the cemeteries on the outskirts of Lviv. None of her relatives living in Russia came to say goodbye, though we assured them it was safe. Russian media had persuaded them otherwise.
After Hanna died, I began visiting the war-torn regions to give readings and get to know the people. Many Ukrainian artists and writers were eager to support those who lived in harm’s way, and they wanted to undermine stereotypes which claimed the country’s soul was divided between east and west. I come from a city more than six hundred miles from the Donbas. In order to connect with my audience at readings, I would sometimes begin by telling them about Hanna. She was so ordinary but so important. You could see the entire country’s history embodied in that one life — a commonplace fantasy which often leads a writer to a novel. As though any single life could encapsulate the whole bloody story.
Homo Sovieticus was a sarcastic term used to describe average conformists in the Soviet era. In fact, the true reasons compelling conformity were no laughing matter. To some extent, every one of us has been affected by decades of fear, silence, and deliberate forgetting. After the USSR collapsed, some had a hard time adapting to a freedom they’d never known. Their old identities shattered, they were especially vulnerable in our post-truth era.
In retrospect, I understand why Hanna remained immune to the lies. She’d never become a Homo Sovieticus, and she was all too ready for 2014.
Born in the USSR in the 30s, Hanna was a child of the unlikely survivors of Holodomor, a genocidal famine that killed millions of Ukrainians. She remembered her parents' stories of the terror. She lived through Stalin's Great Purge and survived Nazi occupation during World War II. What made Hanna immune to the propaganda in 2014 had been hard won. It was her memory, her knowledge of Ukrainian history. Her children were free to not know it and buy the party line instead — they were born under a different sun. For Hanna, that would have meant forgetting her own life. Even on her deathbed, she repeated her wish to go home. As if it was already her habit to remember whatever others would want her to forget.
Over the course of her life, despite the efforts of Soviet propaganda to distort and reframe historical events, Hanna believed in the reality of her memories. She had been a simple crane operator, which may have saved her. Unlike Soviet journalists, teachers, or scholars, she wasn’t forced to repeat lies too often. She must have noticed how propaganda shaped the minds of her children, and she must have allowed this to happen. She was busy trying to survive. Neither the writing of history nor cultural preservation were her bailiwick. By the time Hanna had children, Ukrainian elites who would have served as caretakers of cultural memory had already perished at the hands of the Soviet state. So Hanna kept her memories to herself — the point is, she kept them."
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Published: Mar 13, 2024
In the western world at least, it is normal for new treatments to undergo rigorous testing before being accepted into mainstream medicine. Often, the complaint from those who might benefit from therapies is that approval takes too long. This excess of caution may be frustrating for those who need help but far worse would be a system in which patients became guinea pigs in unregulated mass experiments with potentially life-altering and irremediable consequences. Such is the case with puberty blockers which for years have been fed to children in this country who are confused about their identity and sexuality. The use of these substances to impede physical development in youngsters who question their gender, despite an absence of sound scientific understanding of the long-term effects, is a medical scandal of the first order, a reckless exercise in 21st-century quackery.
It is right, therefore, that the National Health Service in England has called time on the routine prescribing of puberty blockers after the horror story at the gender identity clinic within London’s Tavistock NHS trust. Yet children and parents intent on taking this dangerous path will still be able to access them through NHS Scotland and private doctors. The job is only half complete. This “therapy” needs to be reined in entirely across the UK.
Puberty blockers, which inhibit the development of characteristics like breasts and facial hair, have been prescribed for hundreds of under-16s on the NHS since 2011. Children were referred to the clinic in a decade when gender identity was taking on a more militant and ideological aspect — the NHS found itself under constant pressure from groups like the charity Mermaids, which promoted this radical intervention. At first, most of those referred for treatment were boys, average age 11. What should have immediately struck a chord with clinicians treating them was that many were from troubled backgrounds. More than a quarter had spent time in care and more than a third hailed from families with mental health problems. Autism was another common thread. Over time, girls replaced boys by a ratio of six to one, a strange, shapeshifting malady.
A sensible layman might have concluded that worries about gender identity were more likely to be symptoms of anxiety and depression rather than the cause of it. The natural concerns of youngsters coming to terms with their sexuality could also be misinterpreted by themselves and their parents as gender dysphoria — fear of being attracted to one’s own sex being mistranslated into unhappiness with one’s body.
The case for puberty blockers was that they allowed troubled children to pause while coming to terms with their gender identity. These hormone inhibitors were characterised as an on-off switch that could be flicked with impunity. This was a startling example of medical arrogance. Little was known about the effect of blockers — used also in chemical castration — on developing young bodies. It is now accepted that they affect bone density and, potentially, cognitive development. At the very least, this little-understood chemical cosh separates teenagers from their peers. Patients are frozen in time as their friends develop. Those lost years cannot be regained. And, far from being a pause, blockers tend to presage chemical and surgical procedures that are irreversible.
There will be a small number of people who will forever feel that they were born in the wrong body, and the option to change that is a right — for a mature adult. Children suffering gender dysphoria require kindness, understanding and, if necessary, mental health support. They should not be set on a path to a place from which they cannot return. There are still too many loopholes. Private doctors should be banned from prescribing blockers. The Scottish government, too, should consider why it continues to sanction this dangerous practice.
[ Via: https://archive.md/gABo3 ]
#puberty blockers#puberty#medical scandal#medical experimentation#medical corruption#medical malpractice#religion is a mental illness
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
I am curious … ghost and wound for both ur guys …. Big fan
ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?
tirazel: while you'd think it would be her father (prominent mobster; leader of a crime syndicate; literal robber baron who got enobled recently due to corrupt dealings; controlling and condescending piece of shit), he is so many ways too ever-present to be a ghost, not when he is constantly breathing down tirazel's neck and trying to control her every move.
instead, it's her ex, The Warlock. the short story: tirazel desperately hated being the belle of the ball, felt constrained by her father's demand for a noble marriage, and so around age 19 absconded with a blatant charlatan who worked for The Warlock. At first, Tirazel was just a hanger-on, a gang criminal's high-status girlfriend, but she caught the Warlock's attention for her magical abilities. See, this Warlock 1. was extremely powerful, however 2. was a powerful body-swapping undead creature who required fresh bodies to escape their patron's wrath, which limited their powers and 3. could extend their powers to not simply protect Tirazel -- to hide her identity from her father - but also to give her opportunities to learn magic under their guidance... as long as she supplied them with new bodies frequently. which Tirazel accepted, Tirazel did, Tirazel did with fervour, and this is how she really goes from 'generalist' to 'necromancer' -- she learns the insides of bodies intimately. The Warlock taught her much of the actual science of bodies, the anatomical and biological knowledge to actually practice necromancy efficiently and effectively, and was adept at finding her necromantic tomes from which she could study from.
It should be said, that the Warlock held a great deal of power over TIrazel -- indeed, the Warlock went from mentor to lover when they persuaded Tirazel to kill her boyfriend, the charlatan, for them, as an act of devotion but also to give her far more power. Tirazel did this -- her boyfriend, the charlatan, was not a nice person, but it still stung deeply. It should be noted that the Warlock was a controlling, possessive person -- and also at least two decades older than the early twenty-something Tirazel. There's a tragic irony that Tirazel has gone from one abuser to another, arguably the largest difference between a father and a partner is that she's living in a hideout in the sewers instead of a noble estate. Tirazel eventually gets out of this, however, after about 3-4 years or so -- she slips up, her identity becomes known, her father catches wind of her, and brings her back to the estate immediately. Calls it a rescue. Ends up imprisoning her in her own bedroom for six months for 'her own measure', but that's another story.
It should be said that this four years away was profoundly scarring and affecting. Tirazel was given, through the Warlock, self-sufficiency: the tools to pursue her own wizardly goals, to continue study of magic in secret, and despite close observance, was able to find ways of hiding her pursuit of the necromantic arts to everyone from her noble circles. When we encounter Tirazel in game, she is in her late thirties, and it has been around fifteen years since she left the Warlock -- but it's still a figure she thinks of, often, when she casts magic. Tirazel understands necromancy subconsciously as servitude/slavery in part because of criminal-noble upbringing but in part because because of the Warlock, because this is how they treated the undead under their command (and it's only in the events of the game she actually questions this -- if the dead have wills and desires, what right does she have to control them?). It's a figure that has shaped much of her understanding of romantic relationships -- as something that is a power struggle, navigated through exchange of goods/services (and it's part of what makes her dynamic with Astarion so slippery and so interesting -- it plays into her worst impulses!)
Oh, fun fact: in the imaginary 'questline' for Tirazel that exists in my head, she does meet the Warlock again in Act 3, when she's trying to navigate the power struggle her father's sudden ailing health has created amongst her siblings :) one can even choose to ally with the Warlock again (automatic bad ending for Tirazel that, which... should not surprise lmao)
ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?
ch'lakhou: oh.... SO MANY. ch'lakhou's entire past is a series of ghosts; there's a reason why they are so attached to the speak to the dead amulet. there are far more dead people in their history than living people (surprise surprise, for a serial killer, that everyone would become their victim eventually).
key ghosts include:
Father Mulligan: the priest of Ilmater who 'procured' Ch'lakhou's egg, and initially raised Ch'lakhou, along with a number of non-human orphans who were equally miserable under his care. Part of the reason why Ch'lakhou reacted so strongly during the Act 2 Egg Quest was how closely that paralleled their own upbringing (suffice to say, Lady Esther did not survive that encounter).
Father Simone: the head of the monastery of Ilmater, the Order of the Lily, an isolated mountain monastery in the far north where monks lived a quiet life of contemplation and meditation. Ch'lakhou holed themselves up here between the ages of 17 - 23 or so, to attempt to suppress their urgres (before their urges overtook them eventually). Simone helped Ch'lakhou develop a sense of discipline and expressed a pride in Ch'lakhou for their dedication and commitment. Perhaps knew the most about the urges outside of the temple, but not a faultless mentor.
Enver Gortash: technically more of a post-canon ghost, but Ch'lakhou later discovers they were in contact as children, and were close friends between the ages of 9 - 13, until Gortash got taken away. That they later rediscovered each other was a complete coincidence / twist of fate. Ch'lakhou kills Gortash because 'he was an asshole in their way' and knows it was, technically speaking, the right thing to do, but lacking the memory of Gortash at the time, it's something they strongly regret.
A number of canonical durge ghosts, including Alfira (they were strongly affected by their death), Sceleritas (died in the end), and Bhaal himself (this doesn't need much explanation either)
As for how Ch'lakhou lives? They pursue their past obsessively, furious that their memory, their self, was taken from them -- even though it hurts. Perhaps because it was hurts. Turns out being raised under Ilmater gives one warped ideas about suffering and guilt and the amount of that which is healthy!
wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?
Tirazel: I think Tirazel actually often needs to draw blood for a number of her necromantic experiments, and is extremely matter-of-a-fact about injuries. Tirazel actually has a high degree of medical expertise due to necromantic knowledge, as aforementioned, so tends to know exactly what is happening and how during the wounding & healing process. It's perhaps a little chilling how pragmatic and nonplussed she is about physical wounds.
As for mental/emotional wounds, years of abuse count for something. I think Tirazel's father made a point of 'I will never lay a hand on you, you are my precious princess' (but he will lock her up and dictate the terms of her life exactly), so I don't think she actually ever experienced many physical wounds that weren't self-inflicted, but worst wound... has to either be when the Warlock pushed her to kill the Charlatan, or the binding ritual of the Charlatan's remains to her spirit (Tirazel still carries his skull; the ritual allows her to use his remains as often as she wills, with very little costs / or a once a day summon, in 5e terms). I think the binding ritual was actually painful physically and emotionally.
if Tirazel pursues the bad ending of becoming a lich, I imagine the ritual for that to be also quite painful.
wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?
Ch'lakhou: ohhhhh boy.
well, how much do we want to get into Ch'lakhou's masochism on main, is a whole question
pain is not merely something they shrug off like 'no big deal', but often something they relish and desire. suffering is noble according to Ilmater, a god they have discarded and yet whose teachings are somewhat ingrained. It is also, yes, sexual. They will frequently seek out and experience pain following brutal series of killings - especially when those killings follow sex (Ch'lakhou is notorious for killing sexual partners pre-tadpole). Outside of this, they will often kill people in a way that exposes their physical vulnerabilities and puts them potentially at risk of being hurt. This isn't, mind, what a Bhaalist should necessarily do: pain is not to be desired, it is something that one inflicts as a matter of course, a means to an end, and the correct response would be to feel precisely nothing.
(Ch'lakhou also, through meditation and discipline and study, is excellent at tuning out pain if they so choose. They do not always choose to).
This is something that unravels very slowly following their death/rebirth. Pain is not something they will seek out quite as recklessly in response to the urge, but it is still 1. something they do seek in response to guilt, and 2. something they still find desirable and pleasurable. Desire and pain get somewhat decoupled after the urge is removed; the pursuit of pleasure does not have to be painful, and they learn to have sex, go drinking, go partying, go to the theatre etc. without pain being involved. However, that said, years down the line I think Ch'lakhou does some work on trying to develop a healthier attitude towards their own masochism and desire for pain, and learn to seek it out as not simply a guilt response, but for the pursuit of pleasure in its own right.
This is to say their body is covered in scars, mostly from battle, for a reason other than 'they've done a lot of risky work'.
As for worst wound? It's when Bhaal killed them, no question.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Andrew Forell 2023 End of Year
Robert Forster, photo by Stephen Booth
2023 buzzed by in a whirl of too much work and music. So many records and so many missed. I kept going down rabbit holes of genre and artists, chasing and never quite hauling in all the things I wanted to, or felt I should, listen to. In the end, music being so difficult to rank, here, in alphabetical order are the records I spent most time with a bunch of others I’ve been recommending to anyone who would listen.
The Feelies – Some Kinda Love (Bar/None)
2023 has been a good year for guitar music. New albums from Teenage Tom Petties, The Reds, Pinks and Purples, The Drin, The Tubs and The Murder Capital have been on high rotation here. So why a 2018 live tribute to a band who broke up in 1973 by a group in their fifth decade? First, these are songs are from The Velvet Underground, and second, simply, The Feelies. Joined by Richard Barone and Joey Maestro from The Bongos, they rip through a set that features the “hits” and some lesser-known songs with affection but not awe. Glenn Mercer and Bill Million’s guitars thrum in the style we are accustomed to, while Stanley Demeski, Dave Weckerman and Brenda Sauter provide rhythmic support which adds a dynamic swing to songs like “There She Goes Again,” “Head Held High” and “I’m Waiting For the Man.” Some Kinda Love is a pure dopamine hit of great songs played by a brilliant band. Joy and fun in equal measure.
Robert Forster – The Candle and the Flame (Tapete)
youtube
On The Candle and the Flame Robert Forster produces some of the most emotionally direct and effecting songs of his career. Recorded in the shadow of his wife, Karen Bäumer’s diagnosis of, and treatment for ovarian cancer, Forster writes with grace about family, friendship, love and the past. The only song written in direct response to the illness “She’s A Fighter” contains only six words but the propulsive tension of the music expresses everything Forster doesn’t attempt to say. It’s an extraordinarily powerful performance, a cathartic blast, and for me, one of the songs of the year. “Tender Years,, “The Roads” and “When I Was A Young Man” are also up there. As I said in my review “few (songwriters) imbue the quotidian joys of domestic life and the power of memory with such poetry.”
Iceboy Violet – Not a Dream But a Controlled Explosion (Fixed Abode)
youtube
On their self-produced album Not a Dream But A Controlled Explosion Iceboy Violet mixes rap, grime and swathes of liminal ambience into an emotionally purgative chronicle of identity, desire and fantasy which flows with a dreamlike intensity. Over deep pulses of sub-bass, taiko influenced percussion and concrete noise, their voice shifts in and out of focus, here a background whisper, there an urgent Northern accented boom. The music, like the vocals, is in constant flux, slipping between hard club beats and eerie ambience. At just 17 minutes, the eight tracks here stay with you for far longer.
The Inward Circles – Before We Lie Down in Darknesse (Stone Corbel Press)
Scottish composer Richard Skelton manipulates a six second fragment of Baroque recorder music taken from the run-out groove of a battered 50-year-old vinyl recording into haunted soundscapes that to tap into something primordial and elemental within layers built like geological strata. This is music to lose yourself in. Obsidian and glacial, Skelton’s work captures and preserves trace elements of melody and rhythm so imperceptible that you feel as much as hear them. Before We Lie Down in Darkness is a beautiful, timeless voyage andhas often eased me from insomniac anxiety to sleep in the last few months.
King Vision Ultra – Shook World (hosted by Algiers)
Using musical stems from Algiers’ Shook, found sound and collaborations with artists including ELUCID, Matana Roberts, DJ Haram, Dis Fig and Bigg Jus, King Vision Ultra’s self-styled mixtape is a companion piece and conversation with its source rather than a remix. A shifting sound collage that explores and interrogates race, class, gentrification, violence, love and community, Shook World digs into the core of New York City. Recordings of subway announcements, overheard conversations and confrontations lend a bracing realism and more than once Shook World has merged with the noise and incident of daily trips on the 1 train. A brilliant, often disorientating and abrasive sound portrait of NYC from some of its most interesting musicians.
Kofi Flexxx – Flowers in the Dark (Native Rebel)
Native Rebel founder Shabaka Hutchings has been in the vanguard of the English jazz scene with his bands Sons of Kemet, Shabaka & The Ancestors and The Comet Is Coming and as a cross-genre collaborator with artists on three continents. Posited as a “creative principle” rather than a band, Kofi Flexxx, Hutchings acts as guide and producer. Flowers in the Dark is anchored by pianist Alex Hawkins, flautist Ross Harris and a dynamite rhythm section of bassist Daisy George and drummer Jas Kayser. Backing guest vocalists including rappers billy woods and ELUCID, singers Siyabonga Mthembu from South Africa and Tamil born Ganavye and poet Anthony Joseph on album highlight “By Now (Accused of Magic)”, the quartet provide a fulcrum that draws together the strands of black music into sinuous unity. The instrumental tracks are equally good. “It Was All a Dream” has the rhythmic power of Sons Of Kemet with Hawkins’ percussive piano and George’s bass bounding along ahead of a wall of horns and Harris flying above them while managing to find a gritty rasp the bottom end of the flute. “Fire” is a bluesy spiritual jazz with George and Harris both prominent. An album that exemplifies Hutchings’ holistic approach to music.
Seablite – Lemon Lights (Mt St Mtn)
youtube
San Francisco band Seablite’s second album Lemon Lights delves deeper into their love for 1990s English sounds. The quartet of vocalist/guitarist Lauren Matsui, vocalist/bassist Galine Tumasyan (bass), guitarist Jen Mundy and drummer Andy Pastalaniec channel the lush end of 1990s British indie. Ride guitarist Mark Gardener mastered Lemon Lights and the result is an album of shoegaze adjacent songs which incorporate the jangling sound of Seablite’s Bay Area contemporaries. It’s a deeply satisfying combination elevated by vocal harmonies, serpentine bass lines and Pastalaniec’s driving percussion. Lead single “Melancholy Molly” has the rollicking rhythm of Ride’s “Leave Them All Behind” overlaid with Matsui and Tumasyan’s lush harmonies and the twin guitars sparking from the mix. The sound is dense but melodic, allowing the guitars to chime and shimmer than rather fuzz and the melancholic edge to tracks like “Pot of Boiling Water” and the dreamy closer “Orbiting My Sleep” make Lemon Lights resonate.
Sinaïve – Répétition (Antimatière)
youtube
When Sinaïve released Répétition in April, I had a cursory listen, filed it away and promptly forgot about it for several weeks. My mistake. On second listen, their combination of Gallic cool, psychedelic pyrotechnics, VU drone and the distant echoes of Ye-Ye and the French underground was irresistible. The Strasbourg trio - Calvin Keller on vocals/guitar/keys, Alicia Lovich drums /vocals/organ and bassist Alaoui O - make a wholly satisfying racket. On the 11 plus minutes of “Citadelle/Bis Repetita”, Sinaïve ride Lovich’s robotic rockabilly beat and Alaoui’s throbbing bass though a suite that sounds among other things like “Ghost Rider”, “Sister Ray” and Love at their wiggiest before Keller’s freight train riffs entangle themselves as if on a lock groove. It’s a terrific piece of sonic détournement. “Les Diaboliques” finds Keller crooning over a squalling guitar and molasses bass line before guest singer Raphaëlle Albane enters, an earthbound angel amidst the feedback. Albane appears again on “Cela ne Fait que Commencer” to close the album duetting with Keller over a quiet pulsing beat, organ and strummed guitar.
99Letters – Makafushigi (Disciples)
Osaka producer Takahiro Kinoshita’s Makafushigi (Mystery Tape)is built on samples of the instruments and vocal styles used in Japanese Imperial Court music. As 99Letters, Kinoshita fuses these ancient sounds with modern electronic music in ways that are as malevolent as the demons of mythology and as sinister as the organized crime and ultranationalism in contemporary Japan. The tracks on Makafushigi are washed in a seamy mix of grit and clamor, a grim, grimy world of back alleys, dingy bars and low-tech manufacturing. On discovering this I went on to a deep dive into 99Letters’ back catalogue and emerged when Kinoshita put out his most recent album Zigoku on Phantom Limb in November. He is the artist I’ve been most thrilled to discover this year.
The Others:
Algiers – Shook (Matador
Armand Hammer – We Buy Diabetic Test Strips (Fat Possum)
jaimie branch – Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) (International Anthem)
John Coltrane with Eric Dolphy – Evenings At the Village Gate (Impulse)
Comet Gain – The Misfit Jukebox (Tapete)
The Drin – Today My Friend You Drunk The Venom (Drunken Sailor)
Euglossine – Bug Planet is the Current Timeline (Hausu Mountain)
Asher Gamedze – Turbulence and Pulse (international Anthem)
Gods Gift – Turn All the Lights Out (Play Loud!)
Laurel Halo – Atlas (Awe)
The Reverend Michael Kristen Hayter – SAVED! (Perpetual Flame Ministries)
Irreversible Entanglements – Protect Your Light (Impulse)
Life Strike – Peak Dystopia (Bobo Integral)
Kevin Richard Martin – Black (Intercranial)
OXBOW – Love’s Holiday (Ipecac)
Purelink – Signs (Peak Oil)
Quicksails – Surface (Hausu Mountain)
Rainy Miller x Space Africa – A Grissaille Wedding (Fixed Abode)
Speaker Music – Techxodus (Planet Mu)
Strategy – Graffiti in Space (Constellation Tatsu)
The Tubs – Dead Meat (Trouble In Mind)
billy woods & Kenny Segal – Maps (Backwoodz Studioz)
99Letters – Zigoku (Phantom Limb)
#dusted magazine#yearend 2023#andrew forell#robert forster#the feelies#iceboy violet#the inward circles#king vision ultra#kofi flexxx#seablite#Sinaïve#99letters
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Rise of the Young, Liberal, Nonwhite Republican?
The Republican coalition isn’t quite what it used to be. For decades, white college graduates gradually exited red America while non-college-educated whites drifted in. Donald Trump’s nomination then accelerated this long-run trend, increasing the GOP’s advantage with working-class whites in the secular north. In 2020, meanwhile, Trump made inroads with Hispanic voters, thinning the Democratic Party’s margin with that heterogeneous demographic by 8 percentage points.
In a new analysis of survey data, the New York Times maps the contours of the contemporary Republican electorate. Some of its findings give conservatives cause for concern. The new GOP coalition has considerable internal ideological tensions. The party now derives 12 percent of its support from a group that the paper dubs “blue-collar populists”: a mostly northern, socially moderate, economically populist contingent whose attachment to Republican politics derives primarily from their rightwing views on race and immigration, and personal affection for Donald Trump. In the Electoral College, this constituency punches above its weight, as it is disproportionately concentrated in the Rust Belt’s battlegrounds.
A majority of this group supports abortion rights and same-sex marriage. This aversion to bible-thumping moralism helped tie a segment of these voters to the Democratic Party before Trump’s emergence. To the extent that the Supreme Court’s overturning of Roe v. Wade increases the salience of reproductive rights, and Trump’s eventual exit from GOP politics weakens blue-collar populists’ emotional identification with the party, Republicans could lose ground with them. Indeed, in last year’s midterm elections, Democrats performed better in heavily blue-collar Midwest states like Michigan and Pennsylvania than they did nationally.
But the New York Times-Siena College poll also gives Democrats some cause for anxiety. The survey suggests that nonwhite, working-class Americans are starting to vote more like their light-skinned peers. In 2020, nonwhite, non-college-educated voters backed Joe Biden over Trump by a 48-point margin. Today, this group backs by Biden by merely 16 points, according to the survey. This erosion in the Democrats’ support among nonwhite voters leaves Biden and Trump tied at 43 percent nationally.
The realignment of some nonwhite voters appears to be partially driven by self-identified conservatives cutting ties with the party of their parents in favor of the one best aligned with their social views. In the Times survey, three quarters of nonwhite, non-college-educated voters identified as moderate and conservative. Historically, the Democratic Party has relied on the support of Hispanic and (especially) Black voters who lean right on most policy questions but whose racial identities and familial attachments have tethered them to blue America. In 2020, Democrats bled many such voters, as Trump won over right-leaning Latinos. The Times survey suggests a continuation of this trend.
More surprisingly, the poll suggests that Republicans are winning a non-negligible percentage of young, nonwhite voters with left-of-center views on public policy. According to the Times’s Nate Cohn, eight percent of Republican voters are “newcomers,” a subset characterized by moderate-to-liberal views on economics, immigration, race, and social issues. Only about 60 percent of this group is white, and a quarter are younger than 30.,
In their policy views, these voters resemble Democrats. Only a minority identify as conservative, and most support immigration reform and transgender rights. And yet they are strong Republican partisans and supporters of Donald Trump. The source of this allegiance is unclear. But of the six types of Republicans that Cohn identified, they were among the most emphatically anti- “woke.”,,
Now, we’re looking at one small subset of voters from a single poll. The margin of error here is so high that the existence of this voter group could be illusory. But it does seem possible that, among America’s youngest voters, the most overbearing forms of progressive discourse have acquired more political salience than concrete questions of public policy.,
Regardless, there has long been reason to worry that the Democratic Party would struggle to perpetually maintain its landslide margins among nonwhite voters in general, and Black ones in particular. Keeping 90-plus percent of any subgroup united in one partisan camp takes work. The reason Democrats have managed to perennially win that high of a share of African-American voters — despite considerable ideological and attitudinal diversity within that demographic — is not that each individual African-American Democrat concluded that the GOP was hostile to people like them through their own personal ruminations on current affairs. Rather, as political scientists Ismail K. White and Cheryl N. Laird argue in their book, Steadfast Democrats: How Social Forces Shape Black Political Behavior, the Black bloc vote is a product of “racialized social constraint” — which is to say, the process by which African-American communities internally police norms of political behavior through social rewards and penalties. In their account, the exceptional efficacy of such norm enforcement within the Black community reflects the extraordinary degree of Black social cohesion that slavery and segregation fostered.,
If this thesis is correct, then it would follow that the erosion of African-Americans’ social isolation, and the declining cultural influence of community institutions such as the Black church, would weaken racialized social constraint, and thus narrow the Democratic Party’s margin with Black voters. And it is plausible that a similar phenomenon might occur within Hispanic communities with longtime ties to the Democrats.,
In such a scenario, one thing we’d expect to see is more political diversity among younger non-white voters, who came of age at a time of greater social atomization and racial integration, and are less likely to regularly attend church or have an ethnically homogenous social world. This relaxation of ethnic social constraints could make it easier for ideologically conservative nonwhites to support the Republican Party. But it could also introduce more random variation into the voting behavior of younger, nonwhite Americans. Uncompelled by ancestral partisan attachments, some voters may be more likely to heed idiosyncratic (or irrational) political impulses, such as those that would compel a self-identified liberal to support Donald Trump.,
As noted above, there are plenty of political trends that look favorable for Democrats, above all the exceptional liberalism of the Zoomer and Millennial generations writ large. But if Trump does manage to win reelection next year, there’s a good chance that nonwhite voters’ loosening attachments to their inherited partisan identities will be a big part of the story.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fated Rantings: Mordred
I have begun watching Fate Apocrypha pt 2
I mentioned two characters that stand out to me from Fate Apocrypha and while the first is Astolfo the second is Mordred....good lord this poor child.
I can see why she’d be popular for a myriad of reasons. “Saberface” for one is a known inside joke from Type Moon but also a valid marketing stunt because fans do like them a “saber face”.
Others may cast their own worries or beliefs on identity or gender onto her. Many more may simply like her character for far simpler reasons. If anything, I’d argue focusing her on face or projecting your own ideals onto her doesn’t really do her justice.
For one, Mordred is fully aware of their unnatural origins and shared face with their “father” Artoria Pendragon. Fans may like it or find it entertaining but in-universe this can’t be a light subject.
Similarly, Mordred nearly cuts down her master for being referred to as a woman yet is fully fine with dressing as one or things that would be seen as womanly.
That alone tells me Mordred world view is highly complex for reasons that are very similar to Artoria yet also unique. Any fan knows that within the Nasuverse that “King Arthur” acted as a man because women simply wouldn’t be accepted as king. Even if they were chosen by a holy sword.
In this respect, Mordred will also have hard feelings since only “King Arthur’s” “son” could be an heir to the thrown. They were quite frankly done unjustly by the time they lived in.
This was only made worse by the decisions Merlin made while raising and guiding Artoria in the decades prior to Mordreds birth. Merlin himself being fully aware of his own disconnect from humanity.
Truly, a huge reason Mordred even exists or succeeded in destroying Camelot was because Artoria herself acted as a “perfect” king but not a “human”. She suppressed that humanity and you could argue she had a hard time even feeling it due to her agelessness brought on by Caliburn and Excalibur.
Of course, you’re at this point likely asking what this has to do with Mordred or you’re typing a response of hate that a 90s pale as paper man would even dabble in topics that I (in earnest) know little of. To tumblr’s dismay I am indeed a straight male.
I only brought up these views because I do think projecting on Mordred can simplify the depth while the character itself says little on such subjects in story. I’ll see how wrong I am by the end of the anime I guess....
Back to Artoria. Why is the six or so previous paragraphs important to Mordred? Simple. The limited views of women during that era and Merlin’s disconnect from humanity quite literally fucked both Artoria and her “son” Mordred.
From what I understand, Morgan le Fay hated Artoria because (in this universe) they were both full blood sisters yet Artoria was set up for kingship when Morgan herself held the specific magic that marked Britain’s rightful king.
Morgan’s efforts to ruin her sister were wide and many but this directly affected Mordred as well. The very act of Mordred’s birth is rather horrible if you think about it.
The irony is also palpable. Merlin and Urther Pendragon went through some lengths to make Artoria the promised king. Artoria’s upbringing created someone who suppressed her humanity and desires, was rendered ageless by a holy sword, and even invincible by the scabbard Avalon.
But there was one thing Artoria couldn’t cheat, her inability to bear a child with her wife Guinevere. Merlin’s big brain idea was to use magecraft to temporarily make Artoria male or at least a hermaphrodite of sorts.
Morgan caught wind of this, got into the castle, and quite frankly charmed and took advantage of her own sister. This isn’t just sick on the level of “slipping a woman a roofie” but an act of malice.
Morgan’s malice, on top of the magecraft involved on both Merlin and Morgan’s parts, caused Mordred to be born with Artoria as the legitimate “father” but Mordred was rendered a homunculus.
Not only was her face and body a copy of Artoria Pendragon but her lifespan was laughably short. She aged and grew at a rate that’s just sad for me to even think about.
Worse yet, Morgan either didn’t care that Mordred was her child or didn’t see her as a person/child in the first place. The treatment Mordred had compared to her siblings was supposedly quite stark. I do not know if that includes a physical abuse but there is a strong manipulation involved.
In Mordred’s own flashbacks she was shown to be raised solely to sneak into Artoria’s court and seed rebellion. When Morgan saw that this was failing due to Mordred being enamored by “King Arthur” she chose to shatter Mordred’s happiness by revealing her heritage to Mordred knowing full well it’d end in rejection.
Mordred was so sure she had fixed Artoria’s heir issues only to be met with a rejection. This moment is where I see the depth and tragedy of her the strongest.
In Mordred’s mind, she was rejected because because Artoria hated Morgan. She just assumed that as a child of a “witch” born under very dark circumstances that she was hated by proxy.
Given Mordred’s words in the anime I can even infer that Mordred may have thought this, in part, because of her own hatred for Morgan. She says things that display a clear dislike for her mother.
The tragedy here is worse than this. Mordred lived a short life with a mother that thought little of her existence, was told to keep hidden in her armor for most of her career in Camelot, and was an unnatural being as far as the world itself was concerned.
What she wanted was acceptance from someone. She can go on about being a king or what have you but her relationship with her master mage tells me that she just wants some level of acceptance.
This fact alone is what makes Artoria’s flat rejection all the more painful. Mordred assumed it was for petty personal reasons but no, Artoria, Mordred’s ideal king and “father” rejected her based on cold fucking logic.
Artoria, true to her own upbringing, deduced that Mordred did not have the makings of a king. There was no malice in her choice as stated by her in a flashback.
In other words, Artoria rejected her progeny with neither hatred, guilt or good intentions.
Mordred wasn’t even worth feelings of hate or love from her father. That is, by far, the worst kind of rejection you could possibly garner. To be a non factor at all.
Of course, Artoria’s emotions were suppressed not nonexistent. It’s entirely possible that she did hate Mordred during the rebellion but the actual rejection that led to that rebellion is the issue.
The damage was done. Mordred was doomed to fulfill her mothers goals through the faults of Merlin and Artoria. I wont say this makes Mordred blameless entirely given that the fall of Camelot came at great loss of life.
She’s not a saint after all but it is entirely possible to emphasize with her. She wasn’t given a chance to be more than this. Mordred is also far more human and in touch with her desires and emotions despite being arguably less human than her parents.
That is why I find Mordred to hold so much depth. That depth only grows as she interacts with her master in the anime. There’s a complex and dejected soul there, one that will slit a throat yet keep innocent “commoners” (as she calls them) safety in mind.
She has a heart and it is entirely tragic that the failings of her time and parents led her to this outcome.
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
I, personally, would love to hear you go ham and tell us all, in depth, about the HTECU (Happier Than Ever Cinematic Universe)
(breathes in) OKAY.......... you asked for it i shall deliver -- first thing's first, the insane thing I said about the story.
keep this in mind as i scream ok?
okay. so. Happier Than Ever'verse (or HTEverse) is my super long and big Yakuza AU fic that is like .... mostly canon compliant but based a lot in headcanons I've made or various metas I've read on tumblr. If you watched my Shimazama video, you'd know vaguely about this.
As a short sort of explanation of it though: Kazama and Shimano meet in 1969, go through (mostly) typical Yakuza-series-level drama and trauma, except neither of them deal with it particularly well. Yayoi, Sera, and Kashiwagi hang around the Japanese countryside in 1979, raising Daigo and hiding from assassins - probably to the chagrin of Sohei, although it's not like he'll ever know what happens. Flash-forward decades later, and (mainly) Haruka has to deal with the aftermath of her family falling apart, suddenly being brought back together, and learning about why the fuck things ended up the way they did in the first place.
NOW -- more in-depth explanations of the stories!!!!!!!!!!! (note: i wrote the plot blurbs as if they were on the back of a book so full names are used inexplicably.)
HAPPIER THAN EVER
Years: 1969 -> late 1970s
Plot blurb: In the early years of the Tojo Clan, Shintaro Kazama and Sohei Dojima meet Futoshi Shimano, a former Omi Alliance member who'd been sentenced to cage fighting for their profit after some kind of ambiguous incident that led to his expulsion and subsequent punishment. Soon, Kazama finds out that Shimano's induction into the clan comes with a lot more complications than he'd have ever thought -- including complications that begin to affect him fundamentally.
Main character relationships: Shimano/Kazama (romantic but also BAD) | Shimano/Kazama/Sunny and every variation thereof (not the main focus though, but it happens and it's equally bad) | Shimano & Kazama & Sohei (aka Sohei Becomes The Third Wheel) | Shimano & Sagawa (toxic kyodai where originally they were okay with each other but then power hunger began to change their relationship) | Sagawa & Goda (conniving Omi assholes) | Kazama & Joji (as it turns out, when you get deep into criminal power plays, that affects your relationship with your cop brother)
Assorted themes: Trying to find the good in people (and the various results of that), violence and how it shapes people, what makes a "good"/"bad" person, losing people you love and it actually being your fault
LA DOLCE VITA
Years: 1979
Plot blurb: It's the summer of 1979. Following recent threats to the Tojo Clan and their power, alongside a seemingly-ensuing gang war and a string of threats against those closest to the clan's members, Sohei Dojima sends his wife Yayoi and son Daigo off to the countryside in order to keep them safe. As a preemptive measure, Kazama sends a young Osamu Kashiwagi and a newly-involved Masaru Sera to keep her company and keep her and her son safe. As they are forced to hide their identities, keep low profiles, and raise Daigo together, they grow much closer than they had originally expected.
Main character relationships: Kashiwagi/Yayoi/Sera and every variation thereof | Kashiwagi & Kazama (tfw you have an EXTREMELY one-sided crush on your boss) | Sohei/Yayoi (not a focus. It's vaguely there, but the way its talked about is entirely negative!) | Yayoi & Daigo (Let's go Yayoi's complicated relationship with being a mother and her complex feelings towards her son) |
Assorted themes: Motherhood, fighting against the inevitable, foregone conclusions, finding happiness
PUSHING UP DAFFODILS
Years: 2022
Plot blurb: Following the urging of Goro Majima, Kazuma Kiryu returns to Morning Glory Orphanage and reveals himself to be alive after having faked his death for nearly six years. His adopted children react in various states of acceptance and rage - Haruka Sawamura most of all. Upon their struggle to reconnect and repair their relationship, Haruka decides to leave Okinawa to get to the bottom of what happened in the time since he had faked his death, as well as to figure out why Kiryu continues to keep his distance. But the past does not just catch up to Haruka and Kiryu - but also to Daigo Dojima.
Main character relationships: Haruka & Kiryu (tfw you love your dad, but his actions have had a lasting traumatic impact on you, and in the end you just want to understand him and not damn him) | Daigo & Kiryu (more complicated father-son relationships) | Haruka & Daigo (siblings and their misguided disdain for each other) | Kazama -> Kiryu & Nishiki & Yumi (*kazama voice* I didn't fuck up my kids!!) | Shimano & Majima (*shimano voice* traumatizing your kids gives them character) | Yayoi & Daigo (I think Yayoi should have a serious convo with her son) | Daigo & Kashiwagi (hi, my Real Dad) | Kiryu/Majima (this honestly isn't a focus of the plot, but it is there, and it definitely fuels a lot of why Majima pushes Kiryu to go back to Haruka and the kids) | Yuta & Haruka (not very shippy to say the least, but they're close, could be romantic in the future idk)
Assorted themes: Generational trauma, complicated relationships with your parents and family in general, wishing you could change things before realizing that you can't and that's okay, cycles and how to break them, it's okay to have complicated relationships with the people you love/loved, healing or at least starting the process of healing, reconciliation, loss, leaving/staying, self-sacrifice
MISC CHARACTER NOTES
I'm of the opinion that Kazama's tattoo would be of Susanoo-no-Mikoto slaying Yamata-no-Orochi. I think there's parallels between Kazama being held in high regard while still having a lot of ppl in the Tojo Clan think he's an asshole and Susanoo being considered a heroic figure while still doing really asshole-y things
Haruka short hair vs Kiryu long hair. That is all.
Also long-haired Kiryu reminds Haruka of Nishiki
Yayoi used to be in a girl gang in her youth - I think the term is sukeban? I SORTAAAA have a design for her but that'll be in its own post with other stuff < 3
I've posted stuff w their designs and stuff too in the happier than ever verse tag on my blog tho!!
SOME OTHER STUFF
I put an inordinate amount of time into thinking about character relationships and connections (see below). That will probably be its own post, but I noticed there's a lot of characters that parallel each other canonically, and that's kind of branched into its own thing. I'm half sure the chart is kind of out of date too lol I can fix it laterrrr
We have playlists too btw
(there is one version of Running Up That Hill in each of them btw. this is important. HTE gets the creepy Placebo version, LDV gets the original Kate Bush version, PUD gets the modern & more climactic [in my opinion] Meg Myers version)
I'm probably gonna end up putting a bunch of this stuff on ao3 as a notfic bc i cannot write for shit right now LMAO
Once again, I am saying u can ask me about this AU -- any particulars or whatever else!!!!!!!! I need more ppl to talk about this story with!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#yakuza#ryu ga gotoku#rgg#yakuza fanfiction#shimano futoshi#kazama shintaro#kazuma kiryu#haruka sawamura#daigo dojima#yayoi dojima#osamu kashiwagi#masaru sera#goro majima#tsukasa sagawa#shintaro kazama#futoshi shimano#happier than ever verse#shimazama#yayoi x kashiwagi x sera#oc: sunny#BEFORE ANYONE ASKS THAT IS MY FILO KIRYU ICON W A BARONG AND SALAKOT OK
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Will of Fate
Chapter Six
Fandom: Star Wars: The Mandalorian
Story Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Mature
Characters: Din Djarin x Original Female Character
Summary: There hasn’t been an unidentified spacecraft in the stratosphere of Arkadia in over two decades, let alone three in one day. Those skilled or mad enough to venture into the Chaos unguided were few and far between. That means no one has ever made it to Arkadia who wasn’t intending to be here.
Until today.
or
Din Djarin finds an unmapped planet filled with beings who have the same powers as the Child, but know nothing of the force or the Jedi.
Chapter Summary: Din, Eziriel, and the Child finally arrive at Helix.
Word Count - 4,297
Chapter Warnings: None
Will of Fate Masterlist
Read on Ao3
A/N: Sorry for the wait, real life hit me hard with family visiting from our home country, potential job leads, and social gatherings. While I have up until chapter ten written, I am trying to stay at least five chapters ahead while I post just in case I want to change stuff.
Also, have we decided as a community to just continue to use Din as his first name? Cause I can change it if we are gonna start going with Djarin.
Feedback and critique is welcome, I am trying to get better. Reminder this is unbeta-ed (Position Available :D). I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter six
Their impromptu stop set their arrival time back, according to Eziriel. She insists they stay longer until the treefolk completely clear out so she did not have to worry about crashing into one. So they end up spending nearly three hours chatting. She answers all his questions on Arkadia and the abilities of Wills as best as she can; Din tells her of some of the planets he’s been to and the more entertaining bounties he’s chased. He debates on telling her the story of how he and the child found each other, but she never asks.
After lunch, Eziriel spends the time teaching the impatient child how to weave crowns out of the treefolk flowers while they converse. Creating enough for all of them and then some. She uses her Will to place one to rest upon Din’s helmet and he almost shakes it off until the child reaches up to be lifted into Din’s arms and once he is there the child smiles at him and pats his helmet with his tiny hand. He then touches his own crown that was twisted around his ears to prevent it from falling off and chats up at Din expectantly. It made his heart twist in affection.
“Yeah, we match,” he says to the child, causing him to grin and give his helmet another pat, pat, pat. Din lets loose a soft chuckle at the childish joy.
He sees Eziriel, an identical crown of blue flowers resting atop her head and individual flowers woven throughout her copper braid, grin at them and activate her visor. She makes a gesture with her hand, smiles wider, and activates her bracer interface. She types away at something and suddenly a holo-image of perfect clarity showing Din and the child smiling up at him with their matching floral headpieces projects over her bracer’s interface. He’s never seen a holo-image that was this lifelike before. There were no rendering lines and he felt like he could almost reach out and touch the image itself. His awe over the advanced technology causes him to almost miss her predictable tease.
“You think your guild can use this as your bounty hunter profile image?” She asks with a shit-eating grin. “I’d hire you.”
That’s not how the guild works, but Din is learning it’s useless to use facts against her jests. She mentioned a brother and he wonders if she is the younger sibling. Her air of mischief and her pestering behavior is similar to some of the children he was raised with in the Tribe. They were always seeking to get reactions or attention from the older ones they bonded to which would always ultimately end up with the older child being reprimanded by an elder.
“I hope you have a lot of work, because you’d be the only one,” he says.
She snorts and she falls back into their previous discussion of her explaining Arkadia’s elective monarchy and the councils that make up the leaders of the planet. They never venture into any personal topics, keeping to just the light fact gathering between the two of them.
It’s an odd feeling to Din to have such normal interaction with another person where they aren’t looking at him like he is other. Usually the lore of the fierceness of Mandalorians keeps most people at a distance, and if that isn’t enough then his reputation as a ruthless bounty hunter will chase off the rest. He knows the image he strikes and the armor he wears puts a barrier, a separation, between him and the galaxy, it is the way. But it was sort of refreshing to see someone look at him so normally: no hesitation in looking at his eyeline, making lighthearted teases, a casual touch here and there, and just no cowering reaction to his intimidating presence.
Eziriel has no reservations at the mention of him being a bounty hunter. In his experience civilians were terrified or hated bounty hunters, but she asked questions like it was the most interesting job in the galaxy. Either she is very ignorant to the reality and perception of bounty hunters or she is just a morbidly curious person, Din doesn’t know which would be worse.
“Mother dearest,” the pretentious voice rang out from her bracer interrupting Din’s story of a Trandoshan who tried to hide from him by stripping naked and joining a livestock of adolescent varactyls in an attempt to blend in. The story had her giggling with mirth at the ridiculousness of it all and he watched as that joy morph into a dramatic eye roll.
“Yes, darling?” Viscous sarcasm rolls off her tongue.
“King Amarian would like to know if you intend to join him for dinner. He wishes to meet the Mandalorian.”
Din felt a spike of dread at the thought of the ruler of Arkadia wanting to see him. He isn’t technically supposed to be on this planet and he isn’t sure if his being here will be a problem. Eziriel has been so kind, but she could easily be manipulating him just to lead him to an easy slaughter.
Eziriel looks at him with concern before reaching out and patting him on the unarmored part of his inner elbow. She feels my emotions, kriff.
“We should be in Helix around nightfall. I plan to stay at The Pinnacle. Can’t really hide from him there,” she finishes with a shrug.
“You’d find a way, I’m sure,” the voice says before silence falls on them.
“Why does that person call you mother?” Din asks, remembering she claimed she wasn’t a parent.
“Not a person, they are an artificial intelligence,” she explains, engaging her bracer to bring up a holographic fractal cloud. “This is Central Helix Intelligence or CHI. I built them and they’ve shockingly developed a taste for sarcasm, hence the mother digs. Say ‘hello’ CHI.”
“Greetings, Mandalorian,” the fractals bobbed and spiked as the AI spoke. “I hope your stay is pleasant.”
Din stared at the hologram before giving a reluctant thanks after catching Eziriel’s encouraging eyes. After dismissing the AI she began repacking their stuff. Din slides his floral crown off his helmet, and at the whimpering pout of the child places it in one of his belt satchels instead of tossing it.
With the child securely back in his new favorite spot in her cloak they take off a final time towards the city Helix, while blue treefolk blooms dislodging from her hair trail in their wake.
════════════════════════════════════
The city of Helix sprawls across a valley sandwiched between wooded mountains and a glimmering lake. The outskirts are filled with farmlands and simple homesteads while a starport was placed far in the distance on the opposite end of the lake. The city itself consisted of overflowing nature juxtaposing with the modern buildings of towering rounded spires that were inlaid with gleaming silver metal. At the center is a spiraling building made up of three twisting spires with a beacon of light at the top where the points meet.
Din watches as the three moons rise in the dusky sky between the three twining spires of the central building and he realizes how much this city reminded him of old images of Alderaan. He had never been to the planet, most bounties don’t choose to hide in peaceful populations because that usually meant the security was tight, but the images always gave off the closest thing to a utopia the galaxy had. At least he thought so.
They make their way through the vivacious city towards that central triple spired building passing all sorts of sentient species enjoying the city. There were a few instances he saw those powers being used: a Twi’lek floating their shopping haul next to them while they wrangled their child, a shopkeeper packing his stand onto a cart while speaking to a customer, children playing some sort of game that involved launching soft balls at each other. It was already sort of unbelievable enough to see Eziriel use it so casually, but seeing a whole society do it makes Din feel like he is in a magical world surrounded by sorcerers. He tries his best to keep the overwhelming feeling deep in his chest.
Once close enough to the central building he feels her speak and a descending passageway opens up at the base of one of the spires. They glide down a ramp of a well lit underground speeder port and Eziriel parks against a wall opposite of a bank of turbolifts that lay against a curved wall in the center of the garage. She kills the engine and he watches as two armored figures carrying some sort of spear step out from a glass room from the opposite end of the garage. Din grips his blaster in anticipation, but Eziriel turns and waves at them with a smile, they stop and wave back with a yell of good-natured greeting before heading back into their room.
Before even dismounting the speeder he sees her take the child and gently floats him to the ground causing him to giggle all the way down. She kicks off and Din follows her lead in unloading the speeder bike. He tethers this child’s pram back to his vambrace and places the kid into it while she gathers one of her bags onto her back. She takes the larger duffel bag where she kept her tools and hooks the strap over him without warning.
“What am I, your personal bantha?” Din is almost amused at her audacity as he adjusts his hold on it, placing the strap across his chest so he can still draw his blaster. Eziriel has been kind and he wants to trust her, but she openly told him her people could manipulate others with powers and he doesn’t want to be caught unawares.
“You’re the prettiest bantha in all of Helix, Lori,” she says with a smile while she grabs the speeder’s two saddle bags. He tries not to sigh or bring attention to the obnoxious nickname she has chosen for him. She seems the type to use the name more if she knows how much it annoys him. Best to remain unaffected in hopes she gets bored with it.
“CHI-CHI, would you kindly?” She asks the AI as she leads them to one of the turbolifts that doesn’t have a call button. He watches as a light clicks on above the lift indicating its incoming arrival.
“It has control of the building?” Din asks.
“Mmmm,” she hums with a pinched face. “So not technically speaking.” The lift opens and they shuffle in before she continues, “Officially, CHI is only in our section of The Pinnacle. Which does include this elevator…” She pauses uncharacteristically and looks like she is debating with herself. She gives a deep breath before glancing up at Din under her lashes, almost bashfully.
“…but they have access to basically anything if it is connected to some sort of network.” He stares at her for a moment, taking in what she revealed and why she seems guilty.
“You created an infiltrating AI?” He asks, flabbergasted. This explains why she so easily got into his comms.
“Technically,” she starts with a pointed finger in the air. “I created an algorithm to speed up my codebreaking process. I just gave the algorithm a helpful personality and machine learning capabilities.” She shrugs and he gives her a head tilt of judgment. “They’ve got failsafes! CHI is family, has been for nearly fifteen years.”
“So it was the clever one slicing its way into my ship,” he can’t help the easy dig and she gives him a look of aghast.
“I am the clever one, thank you for the recognition, Mandalorian,” the voice of the AI rings from the speakers of the turbolift.
“You wouldn’t be clever if it weren’t for me,” she snarks. “All of your cleverness derived from me!”
“I think we hit a nerve, Mandalorian,” CHI says and Din lets out a chuckle and Eziriel whips her head at him with a grouchy face, but he sees a twinkle of amusement in her eye and he feels the corner of his mouth lift.
“Both of you can piss right off,” she mumbles with a dramatic pout.
The turbolift doors open to a modern foyer shaped into a crescent shape that curves with the wall they exit from. There is a set of double doors ahead of them and two single doors on either end of the arching foyer. He feels the large duffle bag he holds lift and he maneuvers it off of him as he watches it, along with one of the speeder’s saddle bags from her hand, float over to the door to the left and drop against it.
“That’s my workshop,” she gestures with her hand before doing the same to the other side. “That is the media-slash-recreation room.”
The doors in front of the turbolift slide open with a pneumatic hiss as she strides in. The room is minimalistic and almost sterile, which is not a style Din expected from her. The room focuses around a sunken conversation pit that features floor to ceiling windows that look out onto Helix and the forested mountains that were starting to emit their soft bioluminescent glow. She points out a refresher and a small office at the left of the room and the open modern kitchen to the right. Closer to the glass wall are two sets of doors on either side of the conversation pit.
She leads him to the one on the left and opens it, throwing her remaining bag onto the bed. The room is somewhat different from the rest of the space. It was decorated in warm jewel tones but still rather minimalistic.
“Your room is across the living room, come on.” She tilts her head in a command to follow. She shows him the opposite room from hers and it’s decorated in that sterile minimalistic style of the rest of the apartment. A large private refresher filled with both a shower and a large tub that could be switched between sonic or water. There is a balcony outside his room that seems to wrap around the entire floor that descends onto a well maintained high-rise garden.
“There are blackout shutters here,” she says pointing to a button. “Or you can ask CHI to do it. He isn’t listening all the time, so you have to catch his attention by saying ‘CHI-CHI’ before making your request. Feel free to anything in the apartment.”
He will not be interacting with this AI any more than he has to. It is too much like a droid and it unnerves him how much access it has to things.
“King Amarian says dinner is in an hour and a half,” the AI says over the apartment’s speaker system. “You both should probably wash up. You look a right mess, mother.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says in a nasally mocking tone and gives Din and the child a soft smile before departing for her room.
As soon as he engages his room’s lock he breathes a sigh of relief at the familiarity of the silent atmosphere of just him and the kid. The child sighs sadly at her leaving and sends him a questioning gurgle. Din might not have whatever power that lets her read his emotions but he doesn’t need it to understand him.
“She’ll be back. Let's get you a bath while we wait, sound good?” He asks the child picking him up from the pram and makes their way to the refresher.
════════════════════════════════════
After washing the child, Din is able to run both of their clothes through the sonic shower before taking the luxurious opportunity of a hot water shower. The kid plays on the bed while he washes the wilderness off of him. He checks on the purple bruising from the crash along his head and ribs, but is pleased that all the surface level abrasions were completely gone thanks to the bacta injection.
This is by far the nicest accommodations Din has ever stayed in. He’s worked a few jobs that have taken him to luxurious places like this, but he was always housed in a room meant for the help, never in a guestroom of this caliber. He wants to appreciate it, but a lifetime of being around the scum of the galaxy makes him wary of nice things. In Din’s experience there is always a caveat to niceties.
Thirty minutes before they are expected for dinner he is finishing placing his armor on in the refresher when there is a knock at their door. He hears the kid make an inquisitive noise before he hears the lock disengage and the door open.
“Hey—what? Oh no, little laddie. You should not open the door without your papa’s permission. It isn’t just your space you are inviting me into,” she says with a gentle chastising voice, muffled from the door. His heart lightens, as it always does, at being called the boy’s father.
“That is a wise lesson, kid,” he says as he opens the refresher door and steps out to see her squatting at the threshold of the doorway talking to the kid with a covered tray in her arms. She looks at him and stands up with a smile.
Din is somewhat taken aback at seeing her cleaned and in better fitting clothing. Her copper hair was out of the warrior braid and lay freely around her in thick locks of curls that frame her face and make her warm blue eyes stand out brightly. She wears a mint green jumpsuit with delicate gold beading and fluttering sleeves that almost gives her the illusion of being taller than she actually is, but the illusion is shattered when she moves towards him and has to tilt her head up to look at him.
“I had the chef send down a meal early so you can eat in privacy but still join us for dinner,” she says, setting the tray on a dresser. His chest warms at the thoughtfulness of this woman and he has a fleeting urge to reach out and touch her in gratitude.
But he doesn’t.
“That is very kind. Thank you,” he says with a respectful dip of his head.
“I brought some of my niece’s toys from the recreation room. I can have CHI patch the audio of your room and the living room so you can make sure he and I don’t get into any shenanigans,” she offers with a smirk and reaching down to tickle the boy. He giggles and tries to dodge her as he runs out into the living room. Eziriel waits there waiting for Din’s approval.
“Are shenanigans something I should worry about?” He asks after giving her a nod of approval.
“Always,” she says with that mischievous smirk and gives CHI the command before backing out of the room.
Once the door’s lock was engaged he lifted the lid off the platter to reveal a spiced roasted avian in a bed of colorful leafy vegetables with a slice of crispy bread on the edge of the plate. There was even a bottle of an ale and a dessert that appeared to be a tartlet made of some sort of violet berry. It had been a long time since Din had a warm well-cooked meal and this smells delicious.
Instead of his usually fast paced eating habits, Din takes his time savoring the flavors of the meal. While he enjoys his meal he listens to Eziriel and the child giggling while playing some sort of game that involves making something crash noisily to the floor followed by cheering. There is a feeling in his chest he doesn’t want to acknowledge at the peaceful scene he is taking part in, so he buries it and cleans up his mess when he finishes.
Stepping into the living space he watches as Eziriel uses her Will to stack colorful cylinders into a pyramid on the floor before holding out a small ball to the child. The kid takes the ball and throws it with all his might into the pyramid and then celebrates as it crumbles to the floor. The child looks up at Din and points at what he did.
“I see that. I hope this destructive game doesn’t make an unsanctioned appearance on the Crest,” he says at the smiling kid before meeting Eziriel’s eyes. “Thank you for the meal, it was good.”
“I didn’t make it, that is all Malka,” she says standing up. “But I’m glad you liked it.”
“So what should I expect from dining with royalty? Are there specific customs I need to adhere to?” Din asks.
She looks up at him with wide eyes and a tight serious mouth and nods. “You have to bow. The lower the more reverence, usually.”
Din gives her a nod and gathers the kid to make their way to the turbolift. He’s met important figures before: lords, politicians, and even royalty, but it always put him in a better relationship with them if he followed their customs as closely as his creed allowed. Respect earns respect, he’s found.
The turbolift only takes them one floor up and when the doors open they are greeted by an older half-robed half-armored muscular Twi’lek man. His red eyes surrounded by violet skin scans Din’s form, stalling at the holstered blaster before tilting his head at Eziriel with a raised brow.
“Don’t look so happy to see me, Rajesh,” she says sarcastically.
“It’s been so peaceful these last few weeks and here you come walking in with an armed offworlder Mandalorian you found in the woods?” The man responds flatly.
“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow Raj,” she explains with a grin.
“King Amarian says you vetted him?”
“Yup, he’s been completely truthful with everything he has told me.” Din can tell that she words that intentionally and he is reminded of the questions he would only answer with silence and her respecting the privacy of it. She never prodded verbally, but he now knows that she has read his emotions since the beginning and he can’t necessarily blame her.
“We will still be stationed outside,” Rajesh says, looking at Din directly before stepping out of the way for Eziriel to lead them to the next room.
These rooms were similar in her modern quarters, but with the added flair of royal presentation. Lots of art and family emblems were draped on the walls. Eziriel leads them down the hallway and enters a formal dining hall where a figure was waiting.
The tall man has warm black skin and stands with hands clasped behind him in regal wait. The shorn sides of his head have swirling designs shaved into it and the longer dreadlocks on top were pulled into a knot with golden beads donning the ends. He has the same pointed ears that Eziriel has and Din notes to himself that this could be a native Arkadian trait. A scar through his eyebrow doesn’t take away from his kind face, but draws attention to his honey brown eyes. Billowing blue robes wrap around his body leaving the deep v of his chest exposed where a golden emblem rests from the end of a necklace. The only other jewelry he wears is a single teardrop blue gem hanging from his left ear.
“May I present His Majesty, almighty King Amarian, protector of the Soul of the Galaxy,” Eziriel says with a powerful voice before spreading her arms out wide and lowering herself into a lunging curtsey.
Din follows her lead and bows at his hips just enough to show respect with the kid tucked under his arms. With his head bowed he sees out of the corner of his eye Eziriel’s foot be pulled by an invisible force into the air and she goes crashing to her side onto the floor with a yelp. Din catches himself before he goes to the blaster instinctively, not wanting to anger royalty further.
Then he hears Eziriel’s mirthful cackle from the ground.
“No, please Mandalorian, do not bow. That is not something we do in Arkadia,” a bassy voice says as he sees the man’s dark hand reach out to him almost like he is trying to pull Din out of his bow. Din straightens up and can feel his neck heat in embarrassment. He sees King Amarian smile gently at him before a look of annoyance comes across his face as he looks at the still giggling Eziriel. “You have not been missed, Ziri.''
“That is a lie and you know it, Amar,” she says with a bright smile of fondness. She pushes herself up and King Amarian pulls her into a hug. She looks at Din when she pulls away and gives him a shit-eating grin. “Mando, this is my brother Amarian. Amarian, this is Mando”
Younger sibling behavior, indeed, Din thinks.
“Thank you for allowing us here despite the circumstances, King Amarian,” Din says respectfully.
“Olarom,“ he greets in Mando’a, to Din’s surprise. “And please, I am Amarian when we are not in court,” he says with an offered hand that meets in a firm shake. “Come, I am looking forward to hearing what brought you to Arkadia.”
Amarian moves towards the dining room table with a tilt of his head as a request to join him. Eziriel goes to join him at the table but Din grabs her arm. She looks up at him with a smile and Din reaches out and points at Eziriel’s face.
“You are a menace,” he growls with a light level of annoyance.
Her smile only grows wider.
Translations:
Olarom = Welcome
<< Chapter Five
Chapter Seven >>
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars au#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin x ofc#Din Djarin x Original Female Character#din djarin x original character#the mandolarian#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#third person perspective#third person POV
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
CUPID SECRET SERVICE
Classified and Covert since 1961
Introduction:
Welcome to the elusive world of Cupid Secret Service, a clandestine agency shrouded in mystery, dedicated to the ethereal artistry of love. Since its inception in 1961, this covert organization has orchestrated heartfelt encounters, uniting souls destined to find one another. As shadows intertwine with love's intrigue, Cupid Secret Service weaves a tapestry of affection that transcends time and borders.
Agency Structure:
At the heart of Cupid Secret Service lies a unique organizational structure designed to ensure seamless operations and maximum efficiency. Each agent is part of a carefully curated team, comprising three essential roles:
Field Agent: The master of love's artistry, the field agent is the heart and soul of every mission. Armed with exceptional skills in adaptability, body language expertise, observational acuity, and empathic sensitivity, they navigate the complexities of human emotions with finesse.
Informant: The eyes and ears of the agency, the informant gathers crucial intel and provides critical information to the field agent. Operating within the shadows, their ability to discreetly gather data is unparalleled.
Service Provider: A vital member of the team, the service provider ensures the seamless execution of operations. From logistics to communication, they facilitate the agent's endeavors, ensuring that every aspect of the mission flows flawlessly.
Mission Deployment:
The enigmatic figure known as EROS, the elusive Director of Cupid Secret Service, is the mastermind behind every mission. EROS remains an enigma, with no known appearance or location. All communication with EROS is conducted through antiquated digital phones, ensuring airtight confidentiality. Upon receiving a mission, the message self-destructs, leaving no trace behind.
Agent Training and Selection:
Agents of Cupid Secret Service are selected through a rigorous process, identifying individuals with exceptional linguistic talents, empathic sensitivity, and an unwavering commitment to love's cause. Once chosen, agents undergo extensive training in the arts of espionage, linguistics, and the intricacies of human emotions.
Secrecy and Veiled Heritage:
The agency's dedication to secrecy extends beyond its operations. Agents' true identities are meticulously guarded, their names concealed under unique code names. Within the shadows of their ancestral heritage, hidden threads of diverse lineages converge, each agent bearing an enigmatic past that adds to the allure of Cupid Secret Service.
A Global Presence:
Operating in the world's most captivating cities, Cupid Secret Service's reach spans across continents and cultures. From the bustling streets of New York to the enchanting landscapes of Paris and the vibrant tapestry of Jakarta, the agency orchestrates love's encounters wherever hearts beat in unison.
Cupid's Ethereal Artistry:
As agents carry out their missions, they weave the threads of affection, embracing the love stories they orchestrate as if they were their own. Each encounter is artfully designed, ensuring that love's journey remains a profound and transformative experience for those touched by its embrace.
Legacy of Love:
For over six decades, Cupid Secret Service has silently influenced the course of love, intertwining the destinies of souls in an intricate dance of affection. The agency's legacy remains veiled in the shadows of time, known only to those who carry out its covert missions.
In Conclusion:
As you step into the secretive realm of Cupid Secret Service, embrace the role of a guardian of love's enigmas. Your exceptional codebreaking prowess has unveiled the heart of AMOURSHADOW, bringing you closer to the ethereal artistry of this clandestine agency. Embrace your mission, for love's mysteries await your deft touch.
Welcome to Cupid Secret Service.
Embrace the Shadows. Embody the Art of Love.
EROS Director of Cupid Secret Service
0 notes
Text
2023/April 10th - The Elastic Girl
I kind of want to get something out of the way – because it’s something I’ve talked about like, six or seven times in the last fifteen years but nonetheless continues to keep me up at night to this day. As I mentioned previously, flexibility used to be everything to me. In many ways, it kind of still is.
Around the time I was fourteen, I found that I could put my ankles behind my head with relative ease. This got me very interested in contortion, and seeing as I was coming to terms with my gender identity and had come out to my parents, I began trying to stretch more in order to better tap into that elasticity.
However, prior to my fifteenth birthday, I was screened for scoliosis – only to discover that I had a rare form of kyphosis, which is a lot worse.
My brother also had it, and we both ended up having spinal surgery to correct it. I’ve brought it up in morbid detail several times in the past (the stay in the ICU, the complications during recovery, the lifelong health problems, and so on). I think I’ll spare the details this time, or I’ll perhaps expand on them more in a different post.
The thing is, I never gave up on wanting to be more elastic – even when my flexibility was cut in half. Mentally, I formed this alternate representation of myself who never had the surgery and in-fact progressed more and more into being made of rubber. I began to perceive a reality in which my body could stretch limitlessly, fold in half, twist like a corkscrew, melt into a puddle, and fit into any small space.
It actually got so intensive that one day, I actually visualized this experience where the scar along my back turned into a zipper, and I hollowed out, shapeshifting into a rubber bodysuit. As I carried out this visualization, I could feel someone wearing me, and I began to fixate upon that person to an insane degree – their shape, their warmth, their motion, their scent.
People who have known me for a while (eg. my close friends who somehow still put up with me) know that as I got into my early 20s, I began to get involved in hypnosis. I began using self-trance as a means to further immerse in the sensorium of these alternate realities where I was just a completely elastic and malleable woman who also could transform into any object I desired.
This became my focus for more than a decade.
I experience a certain degree of disillusionment as a result of the disparity between what my physical body can experience and what my mental shape can become. As my health has deteriorated year over year, it has made it harder for my physical senses to operate. I struggle to feel things because my nerves are just completely shot at 29. I cannot engage in various activities because doing so causes chronic pain.
Like, two years after my recovery, it was discovered on the X-rays that my spinal fusion had been placed too high and one of the metal rods was pressing into my right shoulder. As such, I get pinched nerves in my neck pretty regularly which cause severe tension headaches. A few years after that, it was discovered that one of my lumbar discs had developed a herniation which caused sciatic pain.
What most people don’t realize is, when you live a life of limited mobility and chronic pain, it adversely affects your ability to connect with others. In my relationships, I began to feel like I couldn’t keep up with those I was intimate with. I couldn’t feel what they wanted me to feel, and I couldn’t maintain the physical energy to keep up with them. It always felt like my body was so old despite my age.
Eventually, I stopped dating in real life because I just hated this disparity too much. I would still have the occasional fling, but I just did not feel confident in myself anymore. I doubled down on this elastic self who resided completely within the Net and could do literally anything she wanted.
For a long time, I was able to get by, but the experience also changed me in ways I never would have expected. After a while, I began to think less like a person and more like a rubber object. I became fixated on my own malleability and having others exploit it. If I were to describe anything as my addiction, this would be it.
The reason I am writing about this is because I realize that after a while, I stopped having friends in the traditional sense. I only approached people with the hope that they would either leverage my elasticity or see me as an object for their own utilization. I became so hooked on that life that I didn’t really care for the things that normal friends do.
It’s only now that I am realizing how much of a mistake that was.
Over the years, I lost so many people who meant so much to me. It’s caused me to be more and more alone. Coming back to social media through Twitter and Tumblr is kind of a last-ditch effort to embrace a bit of normalcy, but it’s hard because I don’t know when those urges are going to come back.
I keep telling myself subconsciously that I don’t want a normal life, that I want to remain the same delusional rubber girl I have been for more than a decade, but I know doing that is unhealthy and will destroy me. I just… don’t know how to stop.
1 note
·
View note
Text
...."
President Joe Biden will submit his latest budget request to Congress on Thursday, offering what his administration says will be $2 trillion in plans to reduce deficits and future growth of the national debt.
Republicans, who are demanding deep spending cuts in exchange for raising the nation’s borrowing cap, will almost certainly greet that proposal with a familiar refrain: Biden and his party are to blame for ballooning the debt.
But an analysis of House and Senate voting records, and of fiscal estimates of legislation prepared by the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office, shows that Republicans bear at least equal blame as Democrats for the biggest drivers of federal debt growth that passed Congress over the past two presidential administrations.
The national debt has grown to $31.4 trillion from just under $6 trillion in 2000, bumping against the statutory limit on federal borrowing. That increase, which spanned the presidential administrations of two Republicans and two Democrats, has been fueled by tax cuts, wars, economic stimulus and the growing costs of retirement and health programs. Since 2017, when Donald Trump took the White House, Republicans and Democrats in Congress have joined together to pass a series of spending increases and tax cuts that the budget office projects will add trillions to the debt.
The analysis is based on the forecasts that the CBO regularly issues for the federal budget. They include descriptions of newly passed legislation that affects spending, revenues and deficits, tallying the costs of those new laws over the course of a decade. Going back to the start of Trump’s tenure, those reports highlight 13 new laws that, by the CBO’s projections, will combine to add more than $11.5 trillion to the debt.
Nearly three-quarters of that new debt was approved in bills that gained the support of a majority of Republicans in at least one chamber of Congress. Three-fifths of it was signed into law by Trump.
Some of those bills were in response to emergencies, such as the early rounds of stimulus payments to people and businesses during the pandemic. Others were routine appropriations bills, which increased spending on the military and on domestic issues such as research and education.
Many of the votes were roundly bipartisan: More than 85% of the projected debt added over the past six years passed with a majority of Democratic votes in both chambers. Almost an identical amount of debt passed with at least one-third of Republican votes in the House or Senate. Chief among them were a series of COVID-19 relief measures totaling more than $3 trillion and passing with landslide majorities in 2020.
Some of the laws passed entirely along party lines. In those cases, on net, Republicans added slightly more to the debt than Democrats.
That’s because of the sweeping corporate and individual tax cuts that Trump signed into law at the end of 2017, which cost $2 trillion. Despite Republican claims that the tax cuts paid for themselves, the CBO estimated last month that Trump’s corporate tax cuts alone would cost the federal government hundreds of billions of dollars in revenue in the years to come. Earlier CBO analyses suggest the full slate of tax cuts have already cost the government $1.2 trillion through the 2022 fiscal year.
The tax cuts’ price tag outweighed the net cost of the two most fiscally consequential bills that Biden and Democrats passed along party lines: a $1.9 trillion economic aid bill in 2021 and a climate, health and tax bill approved late last summer, which is projected to reduce future deficits by nearly $300 billion.
House Speaker Kevin McCarthy of California and many other prominent Republicans who are now leading the resistance to raising the borrowing limit did vote against large spending bills that other Republicans backed under Trump and Biden. But they also voted for trillions of dollars in pandemic aid under Trump and roundly backed his tax cuts."
1 note
·
View note
Text
On Monday, the Republican governor appointed Ron Peri, an Orlando-based former pastor and the CEO of The Gathering – a Christian ministry focused on outreach to men – as one of five people who will now oversee the Reedy Creek Improvement District, the government body that has given Disney unique powers in Central Florida for more than half a century.
DeSantis signed a bill in February that allowed him to replace the district’s existing board – mostly people with ties to Disney – with a five-member body that he hand-picked. The move to remove power from Disney comes nearly a year after the company spoke out against a Florida bill – which DeSantis later signed into law – to restrict certain classroom instruction about sexual orientation and gender identity.
A CNN File review of Peri’s past comments found that he frequently made derogatory remarks about the LGBTQ community.
“So why are there homosexuals today? You know, there are many reasons given. In our societies, estrogen has increased. You know, there’s estrogen in the water from birth control pills. They can’t get it out of there,” Peri said in a January 2022 Zoom discussion, later broadcast on YouTube. “The level of testosterone in men in general in the United States has declined by 50 points in the past 10 years. You know, and so maybe that’s part of it.”
Testosterone levels in men have dropped in recent decades. Researchers are unsure why, but the drop is not 50%, and there is no indication that a drop in testosterone affects sexual orientation. Likewise, there is no evidence that estrogen in the water supply, for which birth control pills account for a statistically insignificant amount, affects sexual orientation. The claim that chemicals in tap water could turn people gay has gained ground with conspiracy theorists over the years, most memorably with fringe commentator Alex Jones, who said chemicals in the water were “turning the friggin’ frogs gay.”
In the same discussion, Peri called homosexuality “shameful,” linking it to disease.
“There are a lot of unhealthy effects of a homosexual lifestyle,” said Peri. “There are diseases, but it reaches beyond that.”
Peri has also said that LGBTQ people “don’t have a stake in the future” because many do not have children, and he called gay people “deviant.”
In one discussion, he linked homosexuality to the fall of the Roman Empire – a fringe historical belief occasionally pushed by some Christian activists.
“Homosexuality was praised,” Peri said. “LGBTQ today is being emphasized everywhere, even on children’s shows. And so ultimately the Romans had become weak.”
Peri’s discussions, which focused on seeing the modern world through a biblical viewpoint, often touched on social topics. In other discussions uploaded to YouTube, Peri said that “not very long ago being a mother was the pinnacle of being a woman,” and he compared abortion to genocides like the Holocaust.
“It has boggled my mind that you have not seen a massive backlash from the Black population for what is effectively a genocide. And if you look to the right, you can see that in world history, there have been some famous killers. In the Holocaust, 11 million people were killed. Six million Jews,” said Peri, pointing to a chart comparing abortion to genocide.
Peri’s appointment to the oversight board comes after a long-standing battle between DeSantis and Disney over the Parental Rights in Education Act – which critics have called Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” law. The law bars schools from teaching about sexual orientation and gender identity in kindergarten through third-grade classrooms and in older classrooms that do not meet yet-to-be-defined standards.
After Disney’s then-chairman spoke out against the bill last year, DeSantis stripped the company of its unique governing power within the Reedy Creek Improvement District, the special taxing district created more than half a century ago that effectively gave the entertainment giant control of what has grown to 25,000 acres around its Orlando-area theme parks.
On Monday, DeSantis changed course and signed the bill that extended the life of the Reedy Creek Improvement District but gave the governor new powers over its future. The enacted law ousted the existing board, renamed it the Central Florida Tourism Oversight District and allowed DeSantis to appoint all five members – one of whom was Peri.
This week, DeSantis told supporters that Disney’s opposition to the Parental Rights in Education Act was “only a mild annoyance” and that the motivation for effectively punishing the company was in response to it allegedly injecting “a lot of this sexuality into the programming for young kids.” He has suggested that the new board could influence Disney’s business decisions by adding park discounts for Florida residents and even altering the company’s entertainment offerings.
“When you lose your way, you know, you gotta have people that can tell you the truth, and so we hope that they can get back on,” DeSantis said. “But I think all these board members would also like to see the type of entertainment that all families can appreciate.”
Historically, the Reedy Creek board oversaw a fire department, water systems, roadways and building inspections around the Disney theme parks and could issue bonds and take on debt for long-term infrastructure programs. Democratic lawmakers in Florida who opposed DeSantis’ takeover of the board warned that a politically motivated body could wield that power over Disney.
“Are we going to see board members vetoing projects that are considered to work against any governor?” state Rep. Rita Harris said during a floor debate on the proposal. “For example, Walt Disney just changed Splash Mountain. They made it to Tiana’s Bayou (Adventure). What if the governor didn’t like that? Would the board then be able to push a company into changing their business model simply to avoid misalignment?”
In addition to Peri, DeSantis also appointed to the board Martin Garcia, a Tampa lawyer whose private investment firm contributed $50,000 to the governor’s 2022 reelection campaign, and Bridget Ziegler, a co-founder of the conservative organization Moms for Liberty and the wife of Christian Ziegler, the new chairman of the Republican Party of Florida.
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
angelpantsandbacondonuts
Basketball
fitnessmartpro
Fitness Mart Pro
fitnessmartpro
Fitness Mart Pro
fitnessmartpro
Fitness Mart Pro
souptobread
soup to BREAD