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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

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How lock-in hurts design

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

If you've ever read about design, you've probably encountered the idea of "paving the desire path." A "desire path" is an erosion path created by people departing from the official walkway and taking their own route. The story goes that smart campus planners don't fight the desire paths laid down by students; they pave them, formalizing the route that their constituents have voted for with their feet.

Desire paths aren't always great (Wikipedia notes that "desire paths sometimes cut through sensitive habitats and exclusion zones, threatening wildlife and park security"), but in the context of design, a desire path is a way that users communicate with designers, creating a feedback loop between those two groups. The designers make a product, the users use it in ways that surprise the designer, and the designer integrates all that into a new revision of the product.

This method is widely heralded as a means of "co-innovating" between users and companies. Designers who practice the method are lauded for their humility, their willingness to learn from their users. Tech history is strewn with examples of successful paved desire-paths.

Take John Deere. While today the company is notorious for its war on its customers (via its opposition to right to repair), Deere was once a leader in co-innovation, dispatching roving field engineers to visit farms and learn how farmers had modified their tractors. The best of these modifications would then be worked into the next round of tractor designs, in a virtuous cycle:

https://securityledger.com/2019/03/opinion-my-grandfathers-john-deere-would-support-our-right-to-repair/

But this pattern is even more pronounced in the digital world, because it's much easier to update a digital service than it is to update all the tractors in the field, especially if that service is cloud-based, meaning you can modify the back-end everyone is instantly updated. The most celebrated example of this co-creation is Twitter, whose users created a host of its core features.

Retweets, for example, were a user creation. Users who saw something they liked on the service would type "RT" and paste the text and the link into a new tweet composition window. Same for quote-tweets: users copied the URL for a tweet and pasted it in below their own commentary. Twitter designers observed this user innovation and formalized it, turning it into part of Twitter's core feature-set.

Companies are obsessed with discovering digital desire paths. They pay fortunes for analytics software to produce maps of how their users interact with their services, run focus groups, even embed sneaky screen-recording software into their web-pages:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-dark-side-of-replay-sessions-that-record-your-every-move-online/

This relentless surveillance of users is pursued in the name of making things better for them: let us spy on you and we'll figure out where your pain-points and friction are coming from, and remove those. We all win!

But this impulse is a world apart from the humility and respect implied by co-innovation. The constant, nonconsensual observation of users has more to do with controlling users than learning from them.

That is, after all, the ethos of modern technology: the more control a company can exert over its users ,the more value it can transfer from those users to its shareholders. That's the key to enshittification, the ubiquitous platform decay that has degraded virtually all the technology we use, making it worse every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

When you are seeking to control users, the desire paths they create are all too frequently a means to wrestling control back from you. Take advertising: every time a service makes its ads more obnoxious and invasive, it creates an incentive for its users to search for "how do I install an ad-blocker":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

More than half of all web-users have installed ad-blockers. It's the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But zero app users have installed ad-blockers, because reverse-engineering an app requires that you bypass its encryption, triggering liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. This law provides for a $500,000 fine and a 5-year prison sentence for "circumvention" of access controls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Beyond that, modifying an app creates liability under copyright, trademark, patent, trade secrets, noncompete, nondisclosure and so on. It's what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why services are so horny to drive you to install their app rather using their websites: they are trying to get you to do something that, given your druthers, you would prefer not to do. They want to force you to exit through the gift shop, you want to carve a desire path straight to the parking lot. Apps let them mobilize the law to literally criminalize those desire paths.

An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to block ads in it (or do anything else that wrestles value back from a company). Apps are web-pages where everything not forbidden is mandatory.

Seen in this light, an app is a way to wage war on desire paths, to abandon the cooperative model for co-innovation in favor of the adversarial model of user control and extraction.

Corporate apologists like to claim that the proliferation of apps proves that users like them. Neoliberal economists love the idea that business as usual represents a "revealed preference." This is an intellectually unserious tautology: "you do this, so you must like it":

https://boingboing.net/2024/01/22/hp-ceo-says-customers-are-a-bad-investment-unless-they-can-be-made-to-buy-companys-drm-ink-cartridges.html

Calling an action where no alternatives are permissible a "preference" or a "choice" is a cheap trick – especially when considered against the "preferences" that reveal themselves when a real choice is possible. Take commercial surveillance: when Apple gave Ios users a choice about being spied on – a one-click opt of of app-based surveillance – 96% of users choice no spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

But then Apple started spying on those very same users that had opted out of spying by Facebook and other Apple competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Neoclassical economists aren't just obsessed with revealed preferences – they also love to bandy about the idea of "moral hazard": economic arrangements that tempt people to be dishonest. This is typically applied to the public ("consumers" in the contemptuous parlance of econospeak). But apps are pure moral hazard – for corporations. The ability to prohibit desire paths – and literally imprison rivals who help your users thwart those prohibitions – is too tempting for companies to resist.

The fact that the majority of web users block ads reveals a strong preference for not being spied on ("users just want relevant ads" is such an obvious lie that doesn't merit any serious discussion):

https://www.iccl.ie/news/82-of-the-irish-public-wants-big-techs-toxic-algorithms-switched-off/

Giant companies attained their scale by learning from their users, not by thwarting them. The person using technology always knows something about what they need to do and how they want to do it that the designers can never anticipate. This is especially true of people who are unlike those designers – people who live on the other side of the world, or the other side of the economic divide, or whose bodies don't work the way that the designers' bodies do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Apps – and other technologies that are locked down so their users can be locked in – are the height of technological arrogance. They embody a belief that users are to be told, not heard. If a user wants to do something that the designer didn't anticipate, that's the user's fault:

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

Corporate enthusiasm for prohibiting you from reconfiguring the tools you use to suit your needs is a declaration of the end of history. "Sure," John Deere execs say, "we once learned from farmers by observing how they modified their tractors. But today's farmers are so much stupider and we are so much smarter that we have nothing to learn from them anymore."

Spying on your users to control them is a poor substitute asking your users their permission to learn from them. Without technological self-determination, preferences can't be revealed. Without the right to seize the means of computation, the desire paths never emerge, leaving designers in the dark about what users really want.

Our policymakers swear loyalty to "innovation" but when corporations ask for the right to decide who can innovate and how, they fall all over themselves to create laws that let companies punish users for the crime of contempt of business-model.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

Image: Belem (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Desire_path_%2819811581366%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #desire paths #design #drm #everything not mandatory is prohibited #apps #ip #innovation #user innovation #technological self-determination #john deere #twitter #felony contempt of business model

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ms-scarletwings · 6 months

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Frightsome realization brought to me by the beginning of the Planetjackers episode.

Zim’s telescope, all the way from Earth, mind you, couldn’t just search for and fix onto other known planets in the Empire’s range, couldn’t just find the base of the local irken spy, but was in fact able to lock onto the current, exact position of other invaders themselves.

Every single one of them is wired into a database to the point of being able to immediately check one’s encoded job and identity from a quick scan. Of course they’d have the technology and the foresight to have PAKs constantly log and update intergalactic GPS data to their fleet databanks. That’s how Sizz Lorr dropped in on Zim at the Skool. That’s how the guards black-bagged him in order to bring him to Judgementia for his trial. Hell, it probably might even be part of how Tak found him.

Every irken invader, if not every Irken soldier, can be tracked and observed at any time by the empire. Some form of cracking this network may even be the method through which Zim obsessively checks in on the Tallests and where The Massive’s been lately.

But more worryingly, for Irkens at least, this would mean that permanently deserting and evading the empire is effectively impossible so long as there exists some Irken authority willing to put in the effort to chase you down. There is no corner of the universe where their criminals could find a lasting peace of mind. It also adds some more potential context behind their ubiquitous loyalty to their leadership, or why to Zim’s perception, there is no third option after success or being as good as a dead man.

#iz #invader zim #Planet Jackers #iz headcanons #what if the reason we haven’t seen Tak come back yet is because she’s literally dodging janitor duty across the cosmos #this changes SO MUCH about my own ocs holy crap #scarlet talks about things

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brostateexam · 1 year

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One of the recent trends on TikTok is an aesthetic called “night luxe.” It embodies the kind of performative opulence one usually encounters at New Year’s Eve parties: champagne, disco balls, bedazzled accessories, and golden sparkles.

“Night luxe” doesn’t actually mean anything. It isn’t a reaction to wellness culture, nor is it proof that partying is “in” again (has partying ever been “out”?). It’s just one of many aesthetic designations for which the internet has contrived a buzzy, meaningless portmanteau. Rest assured that night luxe will likely have faded into irrelevance by the time this article is published, only for another meme-ified aesthetic (i.e., coastal grandmother) to be crowned the next viral “trend.”

The tendency to register and categorize things, whether it be one’s identity, body type, or aesthetic preferences, is a natural part of online life. People have a penchant for naming elusive digital phenomena, but TikTok has only accelerated the use of cutesy aesthetic nomenclature. Anything that’s vaguely popular online must be defined or decoded — and ultimately, reduced to a bundle of marketable vibes with a kitschy label.

Last month, Harper’s Bazaar fashion news director Rachel Tashjian declared that “we’re living through a mass psychosis expressing itself through trend reporting.” There is, I would argue, as much reporting as there is trend manufacturing. No one is sure exactly what a trend is anymore or if it’s just an unfounded observation gone viral. The distinction doesn’t seem to matter, since TikTok — and the consumer market — demands novelty. It creates ripe conditions for a garbage-filled hellscape where everything and anything has the potential to be a trend.

TikTok plucks niche digital aesthetics out of obscurity and serves them up to an audience that might not have known or cared in the first place. While aesthetic components were once integral to the formation of traditional subcultures, they’ve lost all meaning in this algorithmically driven visual landscape. Instead, subcultural images and attitudes become grouped under a ubiquitous, indefinable label of a “viral trend” — something that can be demystified, mimicked, sold, and bought.

#long reads

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hongluboobs · 6 months

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ok i was cooking up another hong lu analysis thing bc i noticed SEVERAL things in his base id art the other day and wanted to share with the class but they just dropped a new one in the canto V trailer and i have some stuff i wanna talk about that one:)

My Hong Lu knowledge and interpretation is very heavily influenced by reading Dream of the Red Chamber, which may not be the best because I don’t know how much Limbus will pull from the book because it’s Long as fuck but I think it’s given me a deeper knowledge of Hong Lu.

Keep in mind this ego is NOT out yet so i could be totally off base depending on what the full animation/corrosion/sin affinities are like and this is totally theorizing but I wanted to have a go at anyway!! And this got totally out of hand so reading is appreciated :)

One of the first things I noticed here is this Hong Lu seems VERY Bao-yu. We still don’t know for sure what Hong Lu is within the context of Red Chamber (i don’t think it’ll be straightforward considering how that book works) but it’s important to note!

He has this little hat on (this is the best pic i can get atm to show it’s not a fancy hair tie, unfortunately the footage we have rn is a little scuffed)

and Bao-yu is ALWAYS depicted with a hat like this.

This could just be because that’s the appropriate outfit for Chinese nobility (I unfortunately have little to no reference point here, feel free to correct me, but from some quick searches hats aren’t ubiquitous and ESPECIALLY not ones of this style.) I think it’s worth noting because it comes up in nearly all modern depictions of Bao-yu.

There’s also the pearl Hong Lu is wearing on his neck/chest area, which is where Bao-yu wears the magic jade he was born with. His jade is translated into Limbus as Hong Lu’s jade eye, but this plus his hat and the abno’s themes REALLY makes me think we are dealing with some Bao-Yu stuff here.

Speaking of the Abno’s themes, now i can actually go over them! All we have for Walking Pearl right now is the MD event (as well as general observation), but there’s a few things that are relevant.

Just based off design, the abnormality seems to be mostly about the precious (the pearl) and the filth (the muck) intermixing. which makes sense with the EGO being named “Effervescent Corrosion” and our holders being Hong Lu and Rodya.

There’s some symbolism around greed/wealth (the offspring filled muck desiring the pearl and fighting for which one will earn it? the muck tarnishing the pearl? ) and I think we should read into that because it’s Hong Lu and Rodya who have this one and they’re both very tied to their financial status. Those two sharing an ego makes me insane for a bunch of reasons but that’s probably for another analysis piece! But duality is REALLY important for those guys and that’s a theme they’re emphasizing here with both the pearl and muck within the clam.

There’s also some elements of shelter/protection/potentially entrapment with the clam’s shell which are HUGE for Hong Lu, especially with his egos so I think those may come up.

But mostly it’s about the mixing of the precious (likely “wealth” here) and the unsavory, which works very well with what we know of the Jia family. The design likely referencing Bao-yu and thematically dealing with the Jia family makes me think each of those individual readings are more likely because they’re deeply tied together!

And now onto the MD event! I did not write this in order so I may repeat stuff here but. I realized I had to cover the design first so here we are!

First thing that stuck out of me is this portion when you choose to sample some of the clam’s slime.

Sibling/family infighting is very Jia family. It reminds me a lot of this line base Hong Lu says.

You could take this a step further because the clam is something that would typically offer shelter from the rest of the world, and even though it protects, its offspring continue to kill and eat each other.

It seems fine, the offspring have this lovely shell for protection, and they have the precious pearl held within, but even as they are sheltered and wealthy. They are still getting killed and eaten by one another! Reminds me of someone I know:)

It reminds me of some bits in the later half of Red Chamber, where family members more obviously start acting behind each other’s backs or turning on each other, some even killing other family members.

Another part of the MD event that I got something out of was the beginning portion.

using specifically jade as the color for the seawater is a Hong Lu thing. I may be reaching with this bc it’s more than likely just flavor text BUT when taking this color with the fact that there’s nothing in the water it makes me think of an important scene in Red Chamber where Bao-Yu is described as an empty shell, so I wanted to mention it. We know Hong Lu has TONS of water motifs, especially when relating to his family (see his base ego)

The main reason I brought up this section of the MD event is because of the question brought up by the last portion.

If you take one thing from Dream Of The Red Chamber into your perception of Hong Lu as a character, it should be the themes of ambiguity, duality, and being between binaries. Because he sure as hell does that a lot!!! (and i’m not just talking about his gender) He is both genuinely curious and sheltered with an urge to learn as much as he can, but he also plays dumb frequently, backpedals and asks a lot of stupid questions on purpose to maintain others’ perceptions of him. He is CONSTANTLY walking the line between truth and illusion and it can be hard to tell which is which and precisely how much is fake or real, which is why I find him such an interesting character to think about.

Tangent about Hong Lu's characterization aside, it's really easy to read this line as about his family's perceptions of him.

Hong Lu (or rather, Bao-yu) can be read as being the source of the contamination in that he is the heir of the Jia family who is just an absolute fucking failure of everything you’d want in an heir for that time period.

The clam containing the filth can be read as Hong Lu’s lies (whether conscious lies or otherwise) to himself and others about the true “filth” of his family. Really good example of this is with another bit of window dialogue, but these lies and half truths come up quite a bit if you know where to look. (what happened to cohort of kin looking to stab each other in the back at every turn???)

We already have Hong Lu’s assorted water motifs (his feet make ripples on the water in his base id, land of illusion has so much water theming and shows the Jia mansion is surrounded by water) so I think this is a reasonable analysis to make :)

There’s some other sections to the MD event, but there’s nothing of note that triggered the Hong Lu sleeper agent in my brain & also this has gone on long enough that I wanna talk about predicting some stuff for the ego!

I am manifesting Gluttony/Gloom/Wrath for this ego!!

Gluttony and gloom are in the MD event’s skill check already and I think tie in nicely with the themes. Gluttony works with the offspring in the muck killing and eating each other and themes of greed with the pearl (plus the ego is primarily green and that’s a pretty good clue) and then gloom comes up a LOT with Hong Lu’s family (Liu Hong Lu, the only one that remarks on his jade eye, is also the only Hong Lu with gloom. land of illusion requires 5 gloom resources and also relates a lot to red chamber/his family) Gloom’s also generally a stand-in for water which exists here.

Wrath in Hong Lu generally manifests in him going “yeah, maybe my family was a little fucked up actually” internally, instead of manifesting as taking direct action about the fucked up things like it works for most other sinners, and acknowledging that his family was at least partially filth and killing and eating eachother (metaphorically. maybe literally) works for that

i am not an expert on sin analysis but i wanted to take a prediction bc it’s fun :)

I have a couple of predictions for corrosion and i’ll be real they are the main reason i wrote this thing because i LOVE when bad things happen to Hong Lu!!

Since this ego seems to be referencing Bao-yu so much i can pull stuff from Red Chamber too which makes it more fun :)

First one I came up with is Hong Lu taking the place of the pearl within the clam and getting locked in there! A bunch of his egos have to do with being controlled/trapped so i think it works and it also can work as a parallel for Bao-yu’s treatment by his family. Bao-yu’s name means precious jade, and he’s often treated more like his namesake than a person, heavily controlled and never allowed to leave the Jia mansion (or, in this case, the clam.) I just think it’d be fun!

My other concept has to do with more Red Chamber stuff, notably what happens when Bao-yu loses his jade. I’m not quite there yet in the text, but from what i’ve heard he becomes incredibly unstable and essentially loses his mind. This sets the Jia family’s downfall into even faster motion and from that point things get REALLY fucked up. Since the pearl here parallels Bao-yu’s jade, I think having a reference to that part of the book would be really fucking crazy for all 5 people who have read 1800+ pages of red chanber to get to chapter 94 where he loses that thing. Also i just want to see Hong Lu lose his mind i KNOW it would be terrifying and chilling. but they may be saving that for his distortion (manifesting)

In my skimming Red Chamber table of contents to find when Bao-yu loses his jade i just found a chapter where Bao-yu’s father admires a pearl but we will just ignore that for now bc this has taken long enough to type already and that is several chapters off. but there may be more analysis when this thing actually comes out!

Thank you for reading this far!! I hope you enjoyed me looking far too deep into an unreleased ego we know next to nothing about for fun! this took WAY longer than expected to type out but i’m glad I did because I loveee telling people about Hong Lu!

There is a very real chance very little of my analysis and prediction is reflected in canon BUT please remember that truth becomes fiction when the fiction’s true and even if this doesn’t turn out to be correct now u know a little more about Hong Lu and the themes he plays with :)

#limbus company #hong lu #hong lu lcb #limbus analysis #effervescent corrosion #analysis #limbus company analysis #my analysis #pachiposting #idk what tags people use!!! this deleted on me halfway thru and i type slow so weiting this was a miracle #i think i’m cooking here. i love analyzing #fighting for my life to upload the. ugly clam theory lore

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rimouskis · 7 months

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could you explain more about what you view as the before era and what you view as the after? i need to learn my herstory

I think this requires a more detailed and educated/researched answer than I can give after an exhausting workday and an after-hours work event, but I'm going to do my best and also open up the floor in reblogs for people to chip in their thoughts

foremost: a DISCLAIMER that this post does not aim to shit on writers from the "before" era. there are many classic fics that I love and enjoy, even if I consider their characterizations to be "less accurate"* than the ones we have in the after era.

*aside to say: accuracy is based only off of literal media accounts we have of these men; we do not know them, we should not claim to know them, and they have had different comfort levels with the media knowing selective truths about their lives [sid out of choice, geno out of media xenophobia] than they did when these early fics were being written.

"before" fics (which I tend to refer to as "classic" fics, and had their heyday in 2012-2013 but continued up until 2016ish) tended to have more regimented roles for sid and geno. sid was usually the protagonist; geno was the love interest.

this came with a cascading set of characteristics assigned to each guy. sid was poor-little-meow-meow'd. geno was the pursuer in the relationship. sid usually bottomed. sid had the whole spacetoaster moment (he was the inspiration for the term, haha). there wasn't much a/b/o fic but sid was, like, the omega-fied one and geno was alpha-ized.

something I've been thinking about more recently is how 2012-2013 era sidgeno displayed signs of Migratory Slash Fandom. I don't think of MSF as an inherently negative/condemning thing, but I think it's a phenomenon that deserves to be mentioned/analyzed, yeah?

MSF thrives on big character differences.... like, grumpy/sunshine, sarcastic/broody, genius/empath. it's all about emphasizing disparate archetypes to create natural tension in a story. this works really well in most romance novels! I love it!

the issues arise when people try to make characters fit into these preset dynamics. and, frankly, when sidgeno first got big, we straight-up didn't know as much about sid and geno. I mean that. despite sid being EXTENSIVELY covered by media from age, like, 14, he was really tight-lipped compared to what we have now.

and geno was.... there. I don't mean that as a diss—he was INCREDIBLE, but the media totally passed him over again and again. or they helped contribute to stereotypes of him being a dumb oaf who didn't know english.

aside: ironically I think that helped in creating sidgeno and not, like.... sidflower or sidtanger. geno was so "DIFFERENT" from sid (aka: russian, characterized by media as not knowing how to speak [in comparison to sid's highly curated media soundbites]) that it meant he was the best candidate for A Ship with sid.

a lot of the really big writers who got into sidgeno were fandom veterans with lots of experience in other big fandoms. to me, that means MSF had a hand in all this. and we should be grateful, because it led to the BOOM of hockey fic, and of sidgeno fic specifically. modern hrpf wouldn't exist without it.

that being said, those template ship dynamics, plus the media's attitude then towards sid and geno in its coverage, led to those characterizations of whiny soft sensitive boy sid who needed to be rescued even though he was the best hockey player EVER, and geno as the lumbering tall strong alpha not-that-bright Love Interest Man.

this isn't to say every fic was this way, or that this is BAD. I, uh, love poor-little-meow-meow-ing sid and omegafying the hell out of him. what I'm saying is that it was a near-ubiquitous characterization across the board.

that all changed in 2016-2018. I personally wholly credit sevenfists, though I imagine it's more nuanced than that, but: my blog, I make the rules here. I don't know if sevenfists was psychic or just highly observant and absolutely excellent at reading people (and that's basically the same thing, right?), but characterization shifts began taking place in fic....

and the coolest thing happened, in that those characterizations were seemingly reinforced by more media coverage. the back to back cups brought with them TONS of interviews with and media about the team, and sid and geno in particular. the coolest part of it was that sid had loosened up a LOT and geno had gotten more comfortable (and had gotten a reporter firmly on his side).

the interviews about sid post 2016 were just SO different. so much information started coming out, and a LOT of it conflicted with Ye Olde Characterizations. as it turned out, sid was deeply one of the boys. he was funny. everyone liked him. he loved hosting. he was insanely comfortable around almost everyone, including strangers, because he's a little freak who's kind to everyone. he can make smalltalk like no one's business. he's kind of gross. he likes to giggle and be in on jokes and get into the thick of it. he isn't some blushing virgin bride sold off of mario's doorstep, yeah?

and geno, too, was finally getting the coverage he deserved. and his personality was both fortified by age and better shown to us through media. as it turns out, he isn't some happy go lucky oaf. he's mercurial and intensely aware of what others think of him (and he CARES). he's sensitive and thoughtful but also can lash out at random times. he has a wicked sense of humor that he uses as a defense mechanism and as a surefire way to get people to like him, which matters to him. and, as everyone says, he is SMART.

if you had to boil it down, I'd say that post-2016, it became clear that SID is the confident one and GENO is the insecure one. and fic caught onto that with a miraculously fast pace. also: they're more alike than they are different, but I still think romance inherently feeds off of difference and tension, so we still exaggerate things to make the stories ✨WORK✨.

I'm not going to give examples of pre- and post- era fics, because I don't want to point any fingers and say someone was doing characterization "wrong." that's not the takeaway I want anyone to have here.

fandom attitudes have changed. it's been 10 years since that first wave of fics, and while I don't think that's very long, it's a hell of a long time on the internet, and in a niche internet community. what was once the standard for fics (and what was well-read, and what people gravitated towards) was different. not worse—different.

I think it's fair to say the "after" era of fics is more "accurate" to what we know of sid and geno. it's also fair to say that this is only the case because we have a WEALTH of information, character-revealing interviews and videos and anecdotes, that Ye Old Authors could only dream of getting.

I really love the story of how everything has changed, and it's a fabulous microcosm of fandom evolution and how approaches to fanworks have changed and grown with fandom, and I think it's all so so cool.

#additions welcome!#I also feel like I've made this post before lol #gather round children it's time for granny rimouskis to spin the tale of the sidgeno evolution once more

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destinysbounty · 8 months

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Tonight on "Boring Worldbuilding Theories Only I Care About":

So characters are often seen saying things like "gee" and " jeez", which doesnt really make sense at a surface level bc both of those terms have Christian roots, being short for "jesus." Similarly, words like "gosh" and "golly" are a euphemism for "god", and exist as an alternative to "saying the lord's name in vain" - a concept that originated from the Bible and is to my knowledge exclusively Christian/Christian-adjacent.

The problem is, Christianity doesnt exist in Ninjago (outside of that one time Kai went on an acid trip and invented Christmas with the power of hallucination). So that means jeez/gee and gosh/golly had to have entered their lexicon in a different way.

"Gosh" is perhaps the easiest to explain. It probably has a similar linguistic function in Ninjago as it does in our world - after all, it doesnt seem too outlandish to conclude that there are religious rhetorics in-universe that discourage the speaking of godly names. Of course Ninjago does seem to be a predominantly secular society now - relying on religion for tradition and culture, but the actual observance of faith seems largely restricted to monks and select demographics - so it's likely that the practice of godly euphemisms may have over time disseminated from religious praxis into broader cultural colloquialism.

Although that does certainly raise the question about cultural variation in the characters who swear by the FSM's name like Wu and I think Pixal once, whereas characters like Ed and Jay use godly euphemisms - gosh, golly, etc. Were these religious sects more prominent in some regions than others? Ed and Jay, who use the euphemisms, both hail from the Sea of Sand - was this desert once within the territory of one of these euphemistic groups? And did these groups all follow the same faith but as part of different sects, or were they different religions altogether? Much to think about.

But as for gee and jeez...well, what if they're shortened versions of "wojira"? We know she was the prevailing deity back before the FSM showed up and defeated her, and is still worshipped in places like the Island of the Keepers. Perhaps, when her acknowledgement was more ubiquitous, her name was similarly used as a form of exclamation - but over time, due to cultural and linguistic evolution, the exclamation became shortened to things like "jeez" and "gee".

...yeah, i warned you this was gonna be boring. Dont come crying to me if you fell asleep halfway through.

#me: i should make a youtube channel discussing all my theories!#also me: comes up with the blandest headcanons known to man #ninjago #destiny post

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dokyccis · 7 months

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forever . na jaemin

your delicate hands held the knife calmly, going up and down to slice the fruits and greens. you gently pick the sliced food and put it in the orange bowl, separating it from the other ingredients.

your mind is empty, being refreshed by the morning atmosphere, the birds chirping beautifully and everything is in silence. it’s 7:30 am and you decided to wake up to make breakfast to you and your dear boyfriend.

jaemin lands home tired every single day, and you know it’s because of his hard work at the company and as a k-pop group member. you can sense the tiredness in his voice and see it in his eyes, the way it overflows makes you worried about his state.

you feel like you have to do something to make your boyfriend feel better than he already does everyday. as his partner, you need to make him feel loved and welcomed by you. you want him to feel special throughout this chaos he lives every day in his artist life.

you smile even bigger when you notice you were giggling like a fool while thinking about jaemin. you and him started dating for about 4 years ago, but you easily get flustered with the most innocent and sweet thoughts of him.

you continue to make a great and healthy breakfast for jaemin, tasting the food before keeping it. you feel very inspired this morning, maybe it’s love that makes you see bright colors shine outside the window even if it’s early in the morning. well, love is ubiquitous — it has no time to appear or to be practiced, right?

heavy steps are heard from the corridor, a slightly tall figure walking out from the shadow of it. jaemin had the usual sleepy face that made you melt, and you couldn’t bite back your smile.

“good morning, my love!” you exclaim, running to him and embracing his neck. you smile brightly to him, pressing kisses all over his face.

“good morning, hun.” he looks at you, placing his hands in your hips and analyzing your face. jaemin has the habit to stay silent while observing the tiniest details of your face, but special ones. those which makes you unique, which makes jaemin love you intensely.

you feel your cheeks burn, getting shy over jaemin’s gaze. “so…” you start. “i made you breakfast! since it’s your day off, i think you deserve being spoiled by me, don’t you think?” you grab his hand and lead him to the kitchen countertop, letting him see all the food you prepared.

“this is all mine?!” he asks, his eyes almost jumping out off his face.

“all yours, jaems!” a big smile grows in your face once again. you love the sight of jaemin’s soft side and you hope to see it forever until death tears you apart.

“thank you so much, love.” he smiles and hugs you tightly, filling the act with so much love. you both stay like this for a few seconds before jaemin pulls out of the hug, passing his hands through your hair softly.

jaemin caress your hair while paying so much attention to your beauty, his hands sliding down to your face just so he can appreciate what was his.

“you’re so beautiful.” jaemin whispers. you get flustered with his comment, your eyes breaking eye contact with his and looking at somewhere else. “look at me, hm?” he holds your chin, lifting your head up. “don’t look away when i’m talking to you.” he says softly.

he wraps your arms around his waist, his left hand holding your face and his right hand sliding down to hold your neck. “you know i’ll never get tired of complimenting you, right? you’re absolutely perfect in everything.” your eyes shine when the words come out of his mouth. “i love everything about you, y/n. i’m hardly in love with you, and i wanna feel like it forever.” he caress your cheek with his thumb.

“forever?” you ask, your voice is calm and low.

jaemin smiles and leans in to peck your lips, “forever.”

#na jaemin pls be my man im DYING #— ✦ :: on your lin !! < 3 #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin drabbles #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream drabbles #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct drabbles #lulu ★ing neo!

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grey-sorcery · 9 months

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Title: Mirrors: Portals and Uses

Recommended Reading

Altars: Uses & Design Dimensions & PlanesDualities in Witchcraft Researching Witchcraft Spiritwork: First Steps Basics of Spellcasting Basics of Warding Basics of Banishing Energy Work Fundamentals Intermediate Energy Work The Subtle Body The Wellsource Correspondences: Research, Creation, & Use

Please note that some information on this post comes from personal experience as well as conversations with my elders and other practitioners.

Introduction

Mirrors harbor a unique and paradoxical role, often existing at the intersection of clarity and obfuscation. Throughout the annals of history, these reflective surfaces have been the subject of mystic fascination and contemplation. Shrouded in a mysterious aura, mirrors are an integral component of various mystical practices across diverse cultures.

A seminal instance is observed within the African Yoruba tradition, where mirrors are emblematic of Oshun, the deity of beauty, love, and prosperity. Here, these reflective surfaces serve as conduits to divine insight, manifesting the ethereal into the perceptible. Parallel to this, in the indigenous cultures of the Amazonian Shipibo-Conibo people, mirrors - often represented by reflective surfaces of water - are perceived as gateways to understanding the complex layers of the universe, thus embodying a significant spiritual tool. Moreover, in many East Asian practices, mirrors carry deep symbolic significance and are fundamental in rituals aiming to ward off malevolent forces. Among the Ainu people of Japan, for instance, mirrors function as amulets, protecting the holder from supernatural harm.

Mirrors as Portals

A ubiquitous yet perplexing facet is the concept of mirrors functioning as portals. These reflective surfaces, more than mere decorative elements or vanity tools, hold a quintessential place in mystic and magical practice, extending beyond their ordinary use to become intermediaries between the unknown and the practitioner. Diving into the understanding of mirrors, one might read about their role as gateways. The duality of mirrors, both reflective and transparent, presents a tantalizing paradox: what they display isn't a mere reflection, but an alternate universe or spiritual plane. This dichotomy positions mirrors as a connective threshold, an aperture between the observable and the unknown, the physical and the mystical. Despite their allure, mirrors necessitate careful handling within a magical context. It is a common misconception that mirrors only function as portals during explicit rituals. However, their latent potential as conduits should not be overlooked. Consequently, it's paramount that mirrors remain shrouded or safeguarded within consecrated spaces to prevent inadvertent connections to unwelcome energies. Approaching this aspect with a measure of respect and precaution is instrumental in maintaining the equilibrium of such spaces.

Historically, the mirror's role as a portal is discernible across a myriad of cultural contexts. In Greek mythology, Narcissus fell victim to his reflection in a pool of water, demonstrating an early symbol of mirrors as deceptive portals to the ego. In Chinese folklore, the mythical creature Nüwa repaired the heavens using a seven-colored stone, comparable to a mirror, again associating these reflective surfaces with cosmic transitions.

Mirrors often represent truth, knowledge, and self-awareness, owing to their reflective properties. However, their potential as portals imbues them with added dimensions of mystery, transformation, and transition. The mirror, in this context, becomes a metaphor for change and personal evolution, presenting a liminal space where the known meets the unknown, thereby offering new possibilities and perspectives.

Given the energetic properties inherent in mirrors, they should always be treated as portals. Their constituent materials - silica and silver - interact in such a way that a subtle, yet potent, energetic field is generated, a field potentially capable of bridging multiple planes. To ensure safety, mirrors should be handled with respect and caution. They should be appropriately covered or warded when not in use, especially within sanctified spaces. It is also recommended to cleanse mirrors regularly to reset their energetic state and prevent any residual energies from accumulating.

Energetic Interactions & Metaphysics

Energetic Interactions

Amid the energetic symphony of the universe, each object reverberates its unique energetic signature, contributing to the collective composition. Mirrors, with their paradoxical and captivating nature, have often been the center of esoteric investigation. This intrigue is rooted not only in their physical attributes but also in their nuanced energetic interactions.

To comprehend the energetic interplay of mirrors, one must first examine the properties of its constituent components. Primarily, mirrors are composed of glass, a substance formed from the supercooling of molten silica into a quasicrystalline structure. Coating the back of this silica-based surface is a thin layer of reflective metal, usually aluminum or silver.

Silica is very insulative, and negentropic, meaning that its natural energetic state eventually resets regardless of influence. It is also Attractive, meaning that it slowly pulls other energetic compounds to itself. Due to the quasicrystalline structure, glass is refractive and enthalpic, meaning that it becomes thermal under pressure- or releases energy. Silver is conductive and repulsive in nature. Due to how silver atoms prefer to arrange themselves (a face-centered cubic lattice) it also tends to be very metastable, meaning that its natural energetic state is not prone to change regardless of energetic interactions. Because the two are constantly next to each other, because of the silver backing, the negentropic nature of the silica causes an energetic cycle of attraction and repulsion, this oscillation combined with the conductive nature of silver and the entropic nature of glass generates a small energetic field. While this is normally negligible, it creates the perfect environment for the propagation of connections between spaces or planes that are out of phase with our own.

The unique composition of mirrors implicates a distinct effect on the ambient energy. Mirrors, with their inherent vibrational resonance, can both pull and push energy, thereby influencing the surrounding energetic atmosphere. The capacity of mirrors to manipulate energy finds practical applications in the sphere of spellwork and energy transmutation. Through their reflective properties, mirrors can serve as effective tools in spells that involve redirection or amplification of energy. They can be used to create energetic boundaries, return energetic influences, or focus and multiply ambient energy and energetic projections.

Common Metaphysics of Mirrors

The mirror, with its intrinsic capacity to reflect, serves as a potent symbol of the Jungian 'Shadow' - the hidden aspects of one's psyche that are often suppressed or ignored. Through the act of looking into a mirror, one is invited to confront and acknowledge these facets, facilitating a journey towards holistic self-awareness. The mirror, in this respect, catalyzes self-reflection and introspection, propelling an individual towards self-understanding and acceptance. Delving into the sphere of mirror magic uncovers its profound connection to personal transformation. The reflective nature of mirrors encapsulates the principle of change, embodying the potential for alteration and transformation. As such, mirror magic can be utilized as a tool for self-development and evolution, offering a means to focus energy towards constructive change. Beyond symbolism and transformation, the metaphysical properties of mirrors warrant exploration. Mirrors, by their construction and function, are potent energetic entities. The amalgamation of silica and metallic elements results in a unique vibrational resonance, enabling the mirror to absorb, store, and emit energy. This energetic characteristic, coupled with the mirror's reflective capacity, amplifies its metaphysical potency, making it an influential tool in various mystical practices. Moreover, the reflective nature of mirrors aligns them with the principle of 'as above, so below', a concept found in various esoteric traditions. This principle speaks to interconnectedness, suggesting that what occurs on one level of reality also happens on another. Mirrors could, therefore, serve as a solid physical replacement for any correspondence necessary.

Divination, Spells, & Ritual

In the enigmatic arena of divination, mirrors command a distinctive presence. Among various techniques, scrying - the act of gazing into a reflective surface to perceive spiritual messages - emerges as a common method of introspection and foreknowledge. This practice unfolds as a tripartite process, encompassing the scrying ritual, technique, and subsequent interpretation.

Scrying, an ancient form of divination, leverages the reflective properties of reflective surfaces, like mirrors, to delve into the psyche, unveil hidden knowledge, or prognosticate future events. This technique transcends conventional sensory perception, engaging instead with subconscious and/or spiritual entities. The mirror functions as a medium, harnessing and focusing the widened attention in order to project images or symbols onto the reflective surface. These visual constructs carry messages from the spiritual domain, providing insights that range from self-understanding to predictive revelations.

Techniques & Rituals for Scrying

Executing mirror scrying necessitates a meticulous approach. Often, the process commences with the preparation of the space and the individual. Creating a tranquil environment, devoid of disruptive elements, facilitates a deeper, unhindered connection with the spiritual plane. Personal preparation includes grounding and centering exercises to align the individual's energy with the ambient energy of the environment. They then place a light source between them and the reflective surface. Once prepared, the practitioner enters a meditative state, allowing their gaze to soften and unfocus while looking into the mirror. This passive observation invites subconscious impressions to surface and be displayed on the mirror. Maintaining an open mind and a receptive state is crucial, as the visions or symbols may not be immediately clear or might require subsequent interpretation.

Interpretation of Images & Symbols in Reflections

Post the scrying experience, the practitioner embarks on the task of interpreting the observed symbols or images. This phase is intrinsically subjective, as the significance of the symbols often rests within the personal context of the observer and their held convictions and correspondences. However, there are common archetypes and symbols that carry collective meanings, which can provide a starting point for interpretation.

For instance, water-themed images might signify movement, emotions, or the unconscious, while an image of a bird might symbolize freedom or spiritual elevation. However, these interpretations are not rigid, and the practitioner must trust their intuition to derive the true message from the symbols. Being able to pull specific concepts from abstraction can be an invaluable tool in this practice. Moreover, it's worth noting that the absence of specific images during scrying does not indicate failure. Sometimes, the experience might be more of an energetic shift or a feeling, which are equally valid forms of divinatory communication.

Examples of mirror spells for different applications

Harnessing the power of mirrors, one can devise a multitude of spells tailored for diverse purposes. One such example pertains to protection, where a mirror can serve as a shield to deflect negative energy. Here, the mirror is positioned facing outward, symbolically repelling unwanted influences, thereby safeguarding the individual or space.

Another practical application can be found in the realm of healing. A mirror, due to its reflective nature, can be utilized to channel and focus healing energy towards a specific target. For instance, an inscription or symbol associated with health could be drawn on the mirror surface. Subsequently, this healing symbol is then "activated" by focusing one's concentration on it, allowing the mirror to magnify the healing intention.

Mirror spells also prove instrumental in the domain of self-improvement. One may write or speak affirmations into a mirror, thereby employing its reflective capability to reinforce positive change. The mirror's surface serves to amplify the affirmation, aiding in its internalization and materialization.

Ritual Practices Involving Mirrors

Mirrors, acting as tools for focus, protection, and transformation. One common ritual involves the use of a mirror as a portal for spiritual communication. In this practice, the mirror is treated as a gateway, a connection point between the physical and spiritual planes. Practitioners may engage in meditation or trance work in front of the mirror, seeking to establish communication with spiritual entities or access deep layers of the subconscious.

Another ritual entails the use of a mirror in a consecration ceremony, where the mirror is "cleansed" of any residual energy and "charged" with a specific purpose. This process involves elements like incense, candles, or natural elements like moonlight, leveraging their specific energetic signatures to cleanse and empower the mirror.

One must, however, proceed with caution when interacting with mirrors in a ritualistic context. Given their potent properties, mirrors must be handled respectfully and carefully. Always ensure that the ritual mirror is properly stored or covered when not in use to prevent any unintended energetic interactions.

Example Ritual That Incorporates Mirrors

Ritual of Mirror Reflection

Objective: This ritual aims to promote self-reflection, growth, and self-awareness. It harnesses the unique properties of mirrors to aid participants in seeing and understanding aspects of themselves more clearly.

Optimal Circumstances: Conduct this ritual during a new moon, a time known for introspection and new beginnings. A quiet, dimly lit space with minimal disturbances is ideal.

Ingredients and Correspondences:

Mirror: Acts as the primary tool for reflection and introspection

(Optional) A bowl

White Candle or electric candle: Represents purity and clarity.

(Optional) Lavender Incense: Used for relaxation and heightening awareness.

(Optional) Salt: Represents grounding and protection.

(Optional) Incense for grounding

(Optional) Offerings for your spirits

Preparation:

Create a clean, sacred space where the ritual will take place.

Place the mirror on a flat surface.

Practice the incantation until you can recall it without breaking your train of thought: “Show me, guide me, reveal the truth inside me.”

(Optional) Place the salt and lavender in a bowl and then set the candle in the bowl, cradled within the mixture to support it.

(Optional) Place the candle between you and the mirror before lighting it.

If the bowl, salt, and lavender is omitted, just place the candle between you and the mirror. Be sure that the candle is in a glass container for fire safety.

Procedure:

Creating and Engaging the Headspace:

Ensure that your space is free from distractions by turning devices off or on silent, taking measures to get pets quiet and happy, notifying other residence that you require some quiet, putting on headphones with music, and setting comfortable lighting.

Use the flame from the candle dance. Let its clarity inspire your mind to remain focused and clear throughout.

(Optional) Affirm to yourself, “Today, I seek a clearer understanding of myself.” if you think it will aid you.

Maintain this headspace by repeatedly returning your focus to the candle's flame and the points of gnosis whenever your mind wanders.

Entering a State of Gnosis:

Light the incense and take a few deep breaths, inhaling the calming scent.

Sit or stand comfortably before the mirror, gazing deeply into your reflection.

Allow any extraneous thoughts to flow out with each exhale.

Gradually move your awareness inwards on your own psyche. While maintaining equal awareness of each component, break up your psyche into subsequent parts by whatever categorization feels most optimal for you.

Include awareness of your subtle body in your gnosis, as it also plays a role in the psyche.

Take steps to ensure that your state of gnosis is unbroken throughout the spell.

Programming the Energetic Body:

Within your gnosis, move your center of consciousness into your subtle body.

Incorporate your Wellsource into your awareness and how it feeds energy into your subtle body.

Begin to radiate Wellsource energy out of each energy point radially. Be sure that the amount of energy per second is unilateral for each point.

Energetic Constructs:

While maintaining gnosis, reach out and sense the energetic properties and projections from the mirror. It should be a rapidly oscillating field that projects roughly 10 cm -1 m away from the mirror relative to its size. If you’re using a black mirror, stone mirror, or any mirror that doesn’t have a silver backing it will have a different energetic sensation.

(Optional) Incorporating Spirits:

To integrate spirits, whisper a humble request for guidance from trusted spirits and give whatever offerings they prefer. To identify them, look for sensations of warmth, a gentle pressure, or feelings of serenity.

Ensure that you do not demand, but gently request their presence.

Understand that they will help you if they desire, but do not rely on or expect their assistance.

Ritual Action:

Gaze into the mirror, allowing your eyes to defocus slightly. As you do, softly chant or whisper, “Show me, guide me, reveal the truth inside me.”

With each repetition, delve deeper into introspection, understanding the various facets of your being.

Sink your awareness into the components of your psyche. Try not to label them, and just observe them. Trust that your subconscious will bring back what it is you need from the working.

Concluding the Ritual:

Collect the energy you released and send it into the earth.

Thank your spiritual aids, if you called them, and invite them to leave.

Extinguish the candle and clear the space, ensuring to store the mirror safely.

Cleanse the space using whatever means are more comfortable to you.

Note: Always cleanse the mirror after use to reset its energetic state. This can be done by washing it with salt water or vinegar. If you’d like to seal the mirror, draw a sigil on it and/or cover it with a black or white cloth.

Spirit Work

Mirrors, in their multifaceted roles within various esoteric traditions, exhibit a powerful capacity for spirit work. This encompasses a wide spectrum of practices ranging from entity banishment to spirit communication. The exploration of these applications, while deeply intriguing, also necessitates an attitude of respect and careful handling given the potent nature of this work.

Examples of Mirrors in Use for Spirit Work

In several indigenous cultures, mirrors are employed for spirit work, acting as conduits between the physical world and the spiritual realm. For instance, among the indigenous Huichol people of Mexico, mirrors are often integrated into shamanistic practices to facilitate communication with ancestral spirits. This specific usage is chronicled in "The Huichol: A Culture Walking Towards the Light" by Susana Valadez and "Shamanism and Spirituality in Therapeutic Practice" by Christa Mackinnon.

In Asia, particularly within the indigenous Ainu community of Japan, mirrors, known as "Iyomante," are considered sacred objects that bridge the gap between humans and "Kamuy" (divine beings). Details of this practice can be found in "The Ainu and their Folklore" by John Batchelor and "Ainu: Spirit of a Northern People" by William Fitzhugh and Chisato Dubreuil.

Using Mirrors for Banishing

Mirrors also play a role in the banishment of unwanted entities. The rationale behind this practice is that the mirror's reflective surface 'returns' the entity's energy back to itself, which can prove disorientating or repelling for the entity. It can also act as a portal to another spiritual plane through which an entity can be sent to. A particular method involves placing the mirror with the reflective side facing outwards towards the direction from which the negative energy is perceived to originate. During this process, the practitioner maintains a focused state, using projections from the subtle body to direct the unwanted energy into the mirror.

Using Mirrors for Spirit Communication

The reflective nature of mirrors has led to their usage as tools for spirit communication, serving as a medium through which messages from the spiritual realm can be received. This practice often involves mirror gazing or scrying, where the practitioner enters a meditative state and focuses on the mirror's surface, inviting communication from spirits.

One notable example is the "Psychomanteum," a mirrored chamber used for contacting spirits of the departed, popularized by Dr. Raymond Moody, author of "Reunions: Visionary Encounters With Departed Loved Ones". This technique requires a carefully controlled environment and preparation to facilitate spirit communication. It's recommended for only experienced practitioners or under the guidance of a seasoned professional. It is important to note that while mirrors can be effective tools in spirit work, some methodologies may not work for everyone due their vagueness or whether they’re writing from a personal narrative.

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#witchcraft #spirit work #energy work #beginner witch #mirror magic #witchcraft 101 #informational post

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oceanpulls · 2 months

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Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have a plan to soundtrack everything

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross – best friends and Nine Inch Nails bandmates – found unlikely creative fulfilment (and a couple of Oscars) by reassessing what they had to offer as musicians. Now they’re thinking even bigger, and imagining an artistic empire of their own making

By Zach Baron

Photography by Danielle Levitt

Every weekday, Trent Reznor makes his way from his house, a cottagey sprawl behind a white wall in a canyon on Los Angeles’s Westside, to a studio he’s built in his backyard. There he meets his best friend, bandmate, and business partner, Atticus Ross, and they get to work. Reznor and Ross observe the same hours, Monday to Friday, 11am to 7pm. “We show up,” Reznor told me. “We’re not late. We’re not coming in to start to fuck around.” It’s a methodical, orderly existence that Reznor could not have foreseen in the ’90s, when he was fronting Nine Inch Nails and struggling with a drug-and-alcohol problem that was his answer to success. “I would do anything to avoid writing a song,” Reznor said. “I’d rewire the studio 50 times.”

Now Reznor has a wife, Mariqueen Maandig, five children, and multiple jobs. He is sober. Since 2010, when the director David Fincher asked Reznor and Ross to score The Social Network, for which Reznor and Ross won an Oscar, the two men have had steady employment composing for film. This year, Reznor and Ross are also starting a yet-to-be-named company, built around storytelling in multiple disciplines: film production, fashion, a music festival, and a venture with Epic Games.

And then, of course, there is the oldest and perhaps still the most complicated of Reznor’s jobs: being the frontman of Nine Inch Nails. In 1988 Reznor formed what was then a one-man band; the first two full-length records Nine Inch Nails released, Pretty Hate Machine(1989) and The Downward Spiral (1994), have sold more than eight million copies. (Over subsequent years and subsequent albums, the band has since crossed the 20 million mark in sales.) In the ’90s, for a time, Nine Inch Nails were ubiquitous: a phenomenon on the level of Nirvana or Dr Dre. During that decade, the success of the band nearly killed Reznor. “I didn’t feel prepared to process how disorientating that was,” he said. “How much it can distort your personality.”

These days, Nine Inch Nails, which Ross joined as a full-time member in 2016, present a different problem – how do you make something old, something so already well-defined, new again? There are years when Reznor feels like he has the answers and years when he’s less certain. He has put the band on hiatus more than once; after the last Nine Inch Nails tour, in 2022, Reznor deliberately took a break from playing shows as well. “For the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure: what’s the tour going to say?” Reznor told me. “What do I have to say right now? We can still play those songs real good. Maybe we can come up with a new production. But it wasn’t screaming at me: this is what to do right now.”

But he and Ross still come to work, daily, in search of transcendence. “We sit in here every day,” Reznor said. “And a portion of the time organically becomes us just figuring out who we are as people and processing life and a kind of therapy session. And in those endless hours it’s come up: why do we want to do this? And the reason is because we both feel the most in touch with God and fulfilled.”

It is easy to make things when you are a teenager growing up in rural Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border, as Reznor was, and you have nothing to lose and everything to gain; it is considerably harder, once you’ve got older, and found a way to make things that people like, to keep going. It’s an old story: the act of creation can lift you up, but those sharp gifts can also destroy you, and if you make it past that, the sheer blissful regularity of life with money and a family can even you out so thoroughly that there is no friction left to work with. You look inside the cupboard and the cupboard is bare, or it’s a mansion and living inside of it is a person you’re bored of, and so you stop looking. But Reznor and Ross have never stopped looking, and the search for that magical feeling of finding something – that feeling of, in Reznor’s words, “I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know how I just did what I did, but I’ve channelled it into something that worked” – is still the thing that organises their days and their moods.

We were talking in their studio, which was low-lit and cold and full of synthesizers’ blinking lights. Reznor was on a sofa and Ross sat in a chair nearby. The two men first met in the ’90s, when Reznor signed Ross’s band, 12 Rounds, to Reznor’s Nothing Records. Soon after, they became friends, and then musical collaborators. “I was just getting sober,” Reznor said, “and I was in a pretty fragile transitional phase. And I just hit it off with Atticus right off the bat. And part of it was, he was someone who was on much firmer ground, in a mentor-y kind of way, than I was.”

Ross is two years younger than Reznor, but when they met, he’d already been through certain things Reznor was just getting around to. “I got clean when I was very young,” Ross told me. “So I had a bit more experience than him. Put it like this: I knew you could have fun without being high.”

Their friendship has been a constant in both their lives since. “I don’t know if parts of us are broken and we don’t feel good enough,” Reznor said, staring at the ceiling of the studio, “but we know if we work as hard as we can and do the best work we can, it fixes something. At the core of it, that’s what unites us creatively. On top of that, I think his take on the world and role in life helps me understand my place and not feel as detached in some ways.”

Reznor often jokes, or simply explains, that he is a “quart low” on whatever it is that makes people happy. “I think we can both, on our own devices, run below zero as a baseline,” Reznor said. “I don’t mean manic depression, I just mean we don’t take compliments well. It’s like when we won the Oscar, it was the day after: ‘Let’s take today guilt-free, kind of say fuck yeah.’ And tomorrow we’ll have settled back down to a few feet below sea level.”

In their years of collaborating with each other, both men have found some mutual reassurance – a little lift. Reznor gestured at Ross.

“I remember something he said to me – I don’t know if you want me to say this or not – in one of our talks years ago: ‘Here’s what I want today.’”

“I see what’s coming,” Ross said, nervously.

“I just want to feel OK,” Reznor said, quoting his friend. “I want to feel like I’m OK.”

One day this winter, Reznor greeted me at the door of their studio – in the course of reporting this story, I never saw him anywhere else – wearing a black hoodie made by the synthesizer company Moog, black jeans, and black running shoes. At 58, Reznor still retains the angular intensity and jet-black hair of his youth, but time and fatherhood seem to have made him quicker to smile. He looks a little like a college professor now, or an unusually-well-cared-for software engineer. He led me back, past walls of unused gear and several black-clad mannequins, all of which startled me, to their primary workspace, where Ross – a tall west Londoner (he grew up in Ladbroke Grove) with a stern face and a pleasantly reedy voice – sat at a computer, also all in black. (Once, I asked the two men whether their upcoming clothing line would feature any colour. “No,” Reznor said, incredulously. “Of course not.”)

They were on deadline for two films at the moment, including Luca Guadagnino’s forthcoming Queer. “But we’re trying not to work,” Reznor said, drily. Leaned up against one wall was a photo of the two in tuxedos, accepting the Academy Award for best original score for their work on The Social Network. Reznor had contributed to soundtracks before, in the ’90s, but he’d never formally scored a film until The Social Network.

But Reznor and Ross quickly realised that the work, in some ways, wasn’t so different from songwriting. “What do we do when we write a song?” Reznor asked. “We’re trying to emotionally connect with somebody.” Take the Mark Zuckerberg character in The Social Network:“Here’s somebody who thinks this idea is so important that it’s worth kind of fucking your friends over for it. And then realising maybe it wasn’t worth it, or I didn’t realise how I’d feel if I got what I wanted at the price of this. I can relate to that in my own language. Suddenly there’s music.”

“I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor said. “I couldn’t have predicted that I would feel this level of fulfilment.”

And Reznor found that he enjoyed the exercise of solving someone else’s problems instead of his own. “There’s something about not being the boss and working again in service to something that I initially felt guilty for feeling kind of fulfilled by in a weird way.”

Reznor said that on another Fincher film, Mank, the director suggested: “What if it sounded like maybe inspired by Bernard Herrmann and as if it were recorded in 1935 and this film canister sat on the shelf for 60 years?” OK, interesting. (Ross and Reznor were nominated for that one too.)

On the first film the two men scored for Guadagnino, Bones and All, “we got a cut of that that was nearly four hours long with no music and we kind of thought, Oh, fuck,” Reznor said. “Four hours we sat without a pee break, transfixed. It didn’t need music. And when you watch that you approach it differently.” Then Guadagnino brought them Challengers, due for worldwide release in April. Reznor said, “He started us down a path, saying, ‘What if it was very loud techno music through the whole film?’” (This is exactly what it turned out to be.)

“I wish I had his notes,” Ross said of Guadagnino. “His notes were so fucking funny on what each piece was meant to do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Reznor said. “‘Unending homoerotic desire.’ It was all a variation on those three words.”

They liked the challenge of scoring, they found, and that feeling of not being in control. They also liked the way it made them crave being in control again: “It makes you more inspired to work on other stuff when we’re finished,” Reznor said. “Even if it’s just, Thank God it’s done now and we can appreciate the freedom we had before we gave it up.”

These days, Reznor and Ross also like having jobs that let them be at home, around their families. Both men had tumultuous or lonely lives when they were younger; both men have found that fatherhood soothes certain unresolved aspects of their pasts. Ross has three kids, and “probably the greatest reward is how balanced and happy they all are compared to – certainly my growing up was an unusual sort of scenario. It was a fairly chaotic youth.” Ross comes from a notable English family, but his immediate lineage was more unstable. “My dad had a club called Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace in LA in the ’70s,” Ross told me. “He went bankrupt in England and had a judgment passed against him where he couldn’t talk to a bank manager for 15 years. So he moved here and opened this sort of Studio 54 on roller skates on La Cienega and Santa Monica.” Ross held up a coffee-table book full of photos of the club. “You don’t need to look at it, but it was just a mad life. So I grew up in some madness.”

It is particularly endearing to see Reznor, who at a distance was a fierce and terrifying figure in his 20s and 30s, find domestic bliss. I am old enough that my adolescence coincided neatly with the S&M-flavoured, I wanna fuck you like an animal era of Nine Inch Nails; when I was leaving Reznor’s house one day, I noted with some amusement the cheerful mundanity of a basketball hoop in the backyard. “I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor told me. “I couldn’t have predicted that there was a world where I would have a sizeable family with kids and feel the level of fulfilment and comfort and be able to live in that.”

Was that something you were consciously seeking before you found it?

“I think I had some abandonment issues from my parents splitting up, or feeling I never fit in, and I’d gotten accustomed to being on my own. And largely due to my own, I think, inability to really be intimate with people, or share or be open or know how to be a friend or a partner to somebody… Trying that out and doing it with pure and full immersion has led to an unexpectedly great outcome.”

-----------------------

The other film project Reznor and Ross were on deadline for was Scott Derrickson’s The Gorge, a science-fiction thriller starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy. They were working on a lengthy, music-dependent scene that they’d already mostly scored. But, Ross said, “the director wants it to be a bit more, I can’t think of a better word than just a bit more scary and intense.” They weren’t sure what that directive meant, exactly, but they were content – they were happy – to try to figure it out: to enter the room once again, carrying nothing, and to try to leave it with something that didn’t exist before.

Ross called up the scene on a monitor at the centre of a long mixing board: Teller and Taylor-Joy in an evil-looking spiky forest. Reznor and Ross have somewhat fluid roles in their collaboration, but today the plan was for Reznor to improvise some music while Ross edited and manipulated it in real time. “Atticus’ superpower,” Reznor said, “is that I can come up with a melody and a chord change, and he can make that sit on the scene in a way that is meticulous, and mind-numbingly boring to watch him do.”

A studio assistant, also in all black, presented himself to help Reznor set up a microphone and a cello next to a keyboard that sat underneath another computer monitor. Ross hit play on the footage and what they’d already completed of the score, a kind of haunted, chanting murmur. “It’s basically atmosphere at the moment,” Ross said. Next to him was a synthesizer whose make and model he asked me not to print and which the two men use as a kind of sound ecosystem to feed stuff into.

Reznor began by pushing down on the piano’s keyboard, while with his other hand he manipulated the sound with a flat synthesizer on the desk in front of him. It began as a kind of mellow pan flute thing, and then, with a push of a few buttons, became more of a sad, Social Network-ish plonk. Ross stood up and started tapping the synthesizer to his left, and the sounds Reznor made began to loop and accumulate – little melodic figures that plunged in and out of feedback. Reznor moved from the piano to the microphone, where he sang a few soft passages in a baritone falsetto, more sad than spooky, and then to the cello, which he played slowly and choppily. Ross moved between the computer and the synthesizer, trying to harness it all as it built to a loud, echoing crescendo.

After about 20 minutes, Reznor sat back in his chair, and Ross soon followed suit. Everything got quiet again. “It’s going fishing,” Reznor said to me, shrugging. “Sometimes something happens.”

-----------------------

Or, sometimes, everything happens. One of the first things you see when you arrive at Reznor’s home studio are two original paintings by the Yorkshire artist Russell Mills – on the left, a razor against a rusty red background; on the right, a decaying yellow-and-black collage – that ultimately became the insert and the cover art for Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral. This is the record with “Hurt” and “Closer” on it. It’s an album Reznor nearly didn’t survive.

Why do I bring this up? Well. If I may, for a moment, sound like the ageing dude in a black T-shirt leaning against the back wall of a bar where you’re just trying to be young and free of recitations of what the year 1994 felt like, there was a different quality to the way things would happen in music. Bands would labour for years, unknown, and then just get struck by lightning, is the best way I can put it: one day, you’re just a guy, and then one radio station plays your song, and then every radio station plays your song, and everyone is listening to those radio stations, because there is nothing else to do, and then MTV loops your video, and everyone watches it because, again, there is nothing else to do, and all of a sudden you are known by millions of bored people in a way that doesn’t quite happen now. This is a gross oversimplification, of course, but here Reznor is, one of the very few people who have experienced the thing I’m describing. I thought: let’s just ask him what that was like.

Reznor said, OK, he could tell me exactly what it felt like. He gave me a single moment: Woodstock ’94, which Nine Inch Nails almost didn’t play – “it seemed like it was going to be gross, to be honest with you” – but ultimately did. “And when we got there, it was terrifying,” Reznor said. “It was way bigger than I pictured in my head and walking on stage. But this is the point of the story: I knew. You could feel like you were in the right place at the right time.”

In retrospect, how did you handle success?

“Had a drink. That’s what sent me down the path. I wasn’t the guy that, you know, at 12 years old cracked a beer. That wasn’t it at all. Just, I feel anxious around people. I’m not sure how to act, especially now that you’re someone that’s supposed to act a certain way. There’s a projection. It feels uncomfortable to walk down the street and people are looking at you because they recognise you. That’s weird. Suddenly everybody wants to be your friend and you’re the coolest. Everyone wants to date you and shit like that.” Reznor said he found it was “easier to have a beer before I go in that room, and then a couple of beers before I go in that room. And pretty soon over a period of time, wait a minute, things start to get out of control. And you know how the story goes.”

Here’s how the story went: Reznor began to wonder if Trent Reznor could ever live up to the Nine Inch Nails guy that people had in their heads. “The reason I was having to drink was to fix that problem, my own insecurity. But the net result is: I’m not really who I am because now I’ve got drugs or alcohol in my system and I’m not thinking as who I really am. And that comes into focus once one gets sober and has time to reflect and kind of think about what got you there and shit you did.”

Eventually, Reznor got sober, and built himself back up. Today he’s happy to talk about all of it, obviously, but he and Ross have done a lot together since – 10 albums’ worth of Nine Inch Nails (Ross was an official member of the band for five of them), among other things – and Reznor is, by nature, not one to dwell too much on the past of a band that he’s still very much trying to figure out. “We’re not fans of resting on our laurels. We’ve been afraid of thinking about nostalgia. That’s a whole other conversation, but the reality is we’re getting older and our fans are getting older and that’s a fact. And I think, say, during the pandemic, not that you asked this question, but as I’m sure everybody was, I was pretty genuinely freaked out and very clearly came into focus: I’ve got to protect my family.”

He was consumed by fear, by terror of what might happen, of what he might do about it. “I can’t even fit all my kids in a car,” Reznor said. “But in the midst of that anxiety, sitting alone in here, I found comfort in nostalgia. I found comfort looking back at things from my youth that I’ve been afraid to even allow myself to glimpse at because it meant artistic death. Because one has to look forward. One can’t be self-referential. I was so afraid growing up in a little shitty town. I could see people that thought the highlight of their life is junior in high school catching the football. You know what I mean? That’s it. That was the peak. I don’t want to fucking be that person. I could see my fate if I stayed in that town.”

In those moments sitting by yourself, what were you getting nostalgic for?

“I miss parts of living in Pennsylvania. I miss a simpler life that I grew up with. I really loved the first INXS album in 1983. I was a senior in high school, and when I listen to it now I could almost start crying because it fucking reminds me of driving in a shitty fucking car in the summer in Pennsylvania. You know what I mean? Man. I allowed myself to kind of immerse myself in who I was at that time, and what it felt like.”

Reznor had been trying to remake himself ever since he left where he grew up, and now here he is in Los Angeles, over 40 years later. “And I kind of went on a deep dive for a while and allowed myself to realise: I am who I am. And the things that made me weren’t the cool things. I’d always been ashamed of: I came from a shitty town; I didn’t have an exotic upbringing; shitty education, you know what I mean? That’s who I am. I’m not sure what the point of all that confession was.”

Well, except: “It plays into where I’m at now.”

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The last time I saw Reznor and Ross, it was once again in their studio. They were sitting very still. Had they been working before I got there?

“We were for a little bit,” Ross said. “And then nervously thinking about you arriving.”

Really? It’s OK if that’s the truth.

“That’s the truth,” Reznor said. They’d just been in this room for the past weeks, months – years, really, he said. Head down. Working. He gestured at me. “It’s a different mindset.”

And “I was thinking about something you said the other day,” Reznor said. That was on a Friday. I’d asked a somewhat rude question about their soundtrack work, which was: why would Reznor or Ross work for anyone else when they didn’t have to?

Now it was Monday. “I thought about that over the weekend,” Reznor said. “It’s like, Why are we doing this? The idea comes from what we think is a good place of ‘Let’s break it up. Let’s get sent down the rabbit hole on certain things and feel like we’ve got tasks being assigned to us rather than us just blindly seeing what happens creatively.’ ”

But, he said, “I think coming out of a stretch of a number of films in a row, I want some time of seeing where the wind blows versus: there’s a looming date on a calendar coming up and we’d better get our shit together. And certainly in the last few weeks I’ve been itching to do what we often do, which is just come in and let’s start something that we’re not even sure what it’s for.”

Some of that energy, he and Ross said, would probably become the next Nine Inch Nails album. Doing soundtrack work, Reznor said, had “managed to make Nine Inch Nails feel way more exciting than it had been in the past few years. I’d kind of let it atrophy a bit in my mind for a variety of reasons.”

But now, “I do feel excited about starting on the next record,” Ross said. “I think we’re in a place now where we kind of have an idea.”

And then there was the company, which Reznor and Ross spent the last two years putting together, piece by piece, with the help of John Crawford, their longtime art director, and the producer Jonathan Pavesi. The idea was, what could they do that they hadn’t already done around storytelling? Some of that might take the form of examining Nine Inch Nails from yet another angle – “we’ve been working on homegrown IP around Nine Inch Nails, stories we could tell, and we’re working on developing those in a way that are not what you think they’d be.” (As in: not a biopic.) They also have a show in development with Christopher Storer, the creator of The Bear, they said, and a film with the veteran horror director Mike Flanagan.

Reznor put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses so that he could examine a piece of paper next to him. “We just wrote some notes because I knew I’d forget what the fuck I’m about to say.” There was a short film coming with the artist Susanne Deeken. There was a clothing venture, a T-shirt line made in collaboration with a notable designer whose name they’d like to keep secret for now, which will arrive this summer. There was a music festival that they were currently planning, “where we’re going to debut as performing as composers along with a roster of other interesting people,” and a record label, both scheduled to launch around the same time.

And for two years they’ve been working with Epic Games on something that is not exactly a video game, in the UEFN ecosystem Epic has built around Fortnite – “It’s what Zuckerberg was trying to bullshit us into calling the metaverse,” Reznor said. “You can’t say that word any more, but in terms of the tool kit, thinking about it through the lens of what could be possible for artists and experiences, we thought that would be an interesting way to tell a story through that.”

They were nervously contemplating the prospect of having day jobs again, of being responsible for more than just themselves. Early on, as they contemplated launching the company, they’d sat down with David Fincher to ask him about movie production: how does it work? “And he’s like, oh, you’re fucked,” Reznor said. “I can distil a two-hour conversation into that. Because, he said, ‘I know you guys, and no one’s going to care more than you do, and you will not be able to let it go.’”

Reznor has actually had this experience before, of being sucked into a project bigger than Nine Inch Nails and having it take over his entire life. Years ago he worked as an executive, first for Beats and then for Apple, building a streaming-music service.

“Trent was very clear when we started,” Ross said. “We cannot let this get into Apple terrain.”

Reznor laughed. “What I mean by that is – I will make this brief; I’m trying to think through what I’m about to talk shit on. Just to self-censor for a second.”

Reznor paused for a moment and then explained. For years, he said, he’d wondered: what would make a good streaming service? This was before the advent of Spotify in the US or Apple Music. Jimmy Iovine, Reznor’s old label boss – later, Iovine would also become Ross’s brother-in-law, after he married Ross’s sister, Liberty, in 2016 – was launching a music service at Beats, which was then acquired by Apple, and Iovine said to Reznor: come try to make this thing a reality. And Reznor surprised himself by saying yes.

“It was a unique opportunity to work at the biggest company in the world at a high level,” Reznor said. “And it was interesting, the scale of the people that you reach through those platforms, just the global amount of influence those platforms can have was exciting. The political situation I was dropped into was not as exciting.”

Reznor enjoyed working with Apple’s design team and its engineering team. “But it made me realise how much I want to be an artist first and foremost.” Reznor also became discouraged with the possibility of fixing the problem that he was trying to solve. “I think the terrible payout of streaming services has mortally wounded a whole tier of artists that make being an artist unsustainable. And it’s great if you’re Drake, and it’s not great if you’re Grizzly Bear. And the reality is: take a look around. We’ve had enough time for the whole ‘All the boats rise’ argument to see they don’t all rise. Those boats rise. These boats don’t. They can’t make money in any means. And I think that’s bad for art. And I thought maybe at Apple there could be influence to pay in a more fair or significant way, because a lot of these services are just a rounding error compared to what comes in elsewhere, unlike Spotify where their whole business is that. But that’s tied to a lot of other political things and label issues, and everyone’s trying to hold onto their little piece of the pie and it is what it is. I also realise, I think that people just want to turn the faucet on and have music come in. They’re not really concerned about all the romantic shit I thought mattered.”

Anyway, Reznor said, turning to Ross, “That was a long-winded way of saying, when we talked about this company, I just said, ‘Be aware of what success might look like because it will turn into something that eats up lots of cycles and time and attention and energy.’ ”

But, Ross said, taking on new responsibilities was, paradoxically, also a way to stay a little younger. “I know we’ve all been talking about being dads and being adults and all that,” Ross said, “and there is a part of me that thinks: it’s important to keep the kid alive.” Meaning the child inside yourself, rather than the one you’re responsible for.

He told a story about him and Reznor visiting the director David Lynch at his house to work with him on the 2017 revival of Twin Peaks. “And I don’t know how old he was at the time,” Ross said, “but he was older. But just walking in there, and he had the room set up and there’s a screen there, there’s some chairs here and there’s some musical instruments there and he’s smoking a cigarette. There’s nothing old about that dude. You know what I mean?”

Lynch showed them some Lynchian footage. It was incredible, even if they didn’t quite know what they were looking at. Lynch was probably 70 or 71 at the time. “But it’s that thing of it doesn’t matter how old he is,” Ross said. “He is alive. It’s that bit of it all that one doesn’t want to lose with age.”

The point was, Reznor said: “Let’s try some stuff. We’re bored. We are. You know what I mean? We’re grateful. We enjoy doing films. We can write a better Nine Inch Nails record, I think. We can put on a cooler tour. We are aimed to do that. But man, what if we try to do that?” Meaning, the company. “What if we could take what we’re good at, like we did with film? We identified something I think we’re good at and we figured out how to apply it to something else. What if we take that theory and try it on some other things? And that’s led us into: we’re not beaten down completely yet. And it feels exciting. That’s what matters to us right now.”

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Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu Grooming by Johnny Stuntz using Dior Capture Totale Hyalushot SFX Makeup by Malina Stearns Grills by Alligator Jesus Tailoring by Yelena Travkina Set design by Lizzie Lang at 11th House Agency Produced by Emily O’Meara at JN Production

#my ninposting #my transcription #trent reznor #atticus ross #nin #nine inch nails #trent #reznor #gq

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ghostlyforxst · 1 year

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GENDER: Gender Neutral Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere Tendencies, Gore, and Inappropriate Language

CHARACTER: Giyu Tomioka

WORD COUNT: 775

F/N - Friends Name

The iron gate, rusted and raucous, furthered the ghostliness of the graveyard it guarded. It shrieks as your friend nudges it open with their forearm, illuminating the gravestones and leafless trees with their flashlight.

“I wonder, how many people are dead in this graveyard?” F/N queried, stepping forward.

“Hopefully all of them…” You quavered, trailing behind them.

F/N had mentioned ghost hunting to you, you weren't too optimistic about it as they were but you still timidly accompanied them. You both roamed around, peering behind headstones and contemplating your environment for any indications of the paranormal world.

'Snap!'

You yelped and your body jerked into F/N's.

“Get the spirit box!”

You slipped the bag from your shoulders, unzipping it with hesitant hands, and probed around until you found the equipment. “Here.”

F/N flicks the box on, a harsh white noise comes from its speakers, and they ask a question.

“Who is there-”

“Run,” a voice shouts from the spirit box, "he's coming!"

A frisson of fear crept from your face and down to your spine as many voices spoke at once.

“Leave!"

“Leave!”

“LEAVE NOW!”

Then dead silence.

“I think we should leave F/N.” You stammered, stepping away from the box.

They huff and roll their eyes. “Fine, since you wanna be a big fucking baby.”

“How can you not be terrified at..what-”

Your eyes widened and your heart began to thrum wildly against your chest as you stared petrified behind them; lurking behind them was a figure, a masculine figure. His skin was unnaturally pale, as if he was lifeless, and his veins protruded just beneath his skin. His dark hair matted with turf, along with his tattered clothing. With sullen eyes, he glared menacingly down at F/N.

You raised a finger and pointed at the ominous being.

“What is it, Y/N!?”

Before you could even utter a word, the monster's teeth tore through the skin of her neck—ripping out her jugular. Blood spatter ubiquitously; dripping down your face and into your mouth, dousing your hair, and decorating your clothes and the ground.

A scream erupts from your throat, eyes widening with terror and tears, before your legs removed you from the danger that stood before you.

You smeared the blood from your face, breathing erratically as you shove past the forestry and hissed as thorns shred through your clothes and skin. Suddenly you stopped, listening, and then plunged into some shrubbery. Your hands clasped around your mouth as the distant groans became near—out of all the possibilities, it had to be the living dead.

You pleaded mentally for a good outcome, but not all wishes are granted and you were quickly snatched from your hideaway.

"Please," you sobbed, "please don't kill me!"

The zombie snickers, his clouded eyes browsing over your distressed appearance. "Who said I was?"

"You ate my friend, so why wouldn't you do the same to me!?" You shouted as you struggled in his bruising grasp.

"Oh sorry, I was a little hungry." He grinned, showing his blood stained teeth.

Your mouth parted, unsettled, as more tears coursed down your cheeks.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not gonna eat you." He rolled his eyes, dragging you along with him.

You looked past him, watching as the dense fog lessened and exposed a dilapidated shed.

You pulled at your arm once more, almost tripping as you two stepped up the stairs, but it was no use.

"Please," you begged once again, "please let me go!"

He slammed the door behind him before releasing you, observing you as the ethereal light of the moon doused you. His tongue ran over his chapped lips as he limped towards you.

"You look so delicious covered in their blood, it makes me hungry again." He sighs, scratching his head before plopping down beside you.

You flinch away and huddle close to the dry rotted wall, crying silently.

"I've been so lonely, but not anymore…now that you're here! I haven't felt my heart beat in years, but here it is fluttering like it's alive—it's strange but I like it." He confessed as he placed a hand over his heart, the clothing crinkling as he gripped it.

"What's going to happen to me?" You spoked, almost as if you were whispering.

"You're going to be mine until time ends for you."

Your lower lip wobbled, staring agape. "I refuse, you just ate my friend and I don't know you-"

"Giyu Tomioka." He interrupted, tilting his head. "Your name?"

"Y/N," you frowned.

"Until death due us apart Y/N, but not if I get to you first."

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bimbinis · 1 year

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the trouble with critiquing transandrophobia and associated tendencies as a trans man is that what it feels like is that you’re being put in the position of arguing that you’re defending yourself from accusations of Not being privileged, that you are in fact privileged, which in a discussion that is explicitly a matter of oppression olympics is automatically a theoretical lost position. how do you even express the fact that transandrophobia is an incredibly lackluster category, that not only relies on incorrect, hurtful underlying assumptions about how the oppression of other groups work, but on top of that doesn’t even actually speak truth to your actual goddamn lived experience, when you’re the very person it purports to be about, when saying “my life does not look like this bc I’m viewed as a man by society” sounds like bragging?

and because the ghost of transmedicalism yet looms high over the land perpetually haunting us all, it very quickly gets warped by transandrophobia truthers into us saying that they’re not really trans bc they don’t take hormones or men bc they don’t pass (even though to me their tendencies towards 1. transmisogyny and 2. making those godawful, out of touch positivity posts reassuring men they’re allowed to be masculine or whatever, both tendencies I frequently observed in my circle during my time as a transmed, seem just as worthy of the accusation). meanwhile they impose on us a false ubiquitous experience of living in a world where people view us as women and measure us by the standards set for women, and any oppression we experience has nothing to do with being viewed on some level as men bc you see, cis men don’t experience oppression for being men but we very much do, we’re the specialest non-toxic boys in the world who will redeem masculinity bc we’re not actually subject to true social existence as men. if you suggest you are that’s you saying that you wanna be just like a cis man which is transphobic and misogynistic bc cis men are misogynists and trans men aren’t. so stay in your lane and let us speak about your experiences for you :)

it’s just such utterly exhausting shite. and bc these people always have these insufferably woobified personas, these performatively inoffensive, “pure cinammon roll”-esque public identities, that makes it all the more infuriating when they engage in such blatant imposition of their own outlook on other people and act like they’re not doing it. but if you call them out on it and tell them to at least have the decency to own up to it they start whining that you’re a toxic male telling them to man up. these people will say to your face that everyone in your life will always view you as a woman and there’s nothing you can do about it but if you reply with “ok aiden” or smth they’ll cry that they’re being hatecrimed. deeply unserious people

#leandro's leftist rants #is this even a leftist rant. maybe i'll just change it to yet another tag for long discourse poasts

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thebramblewood · 6 months

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Read an exclusive excerpt of "Chapter 5: The Mysterious Cal and Lily" from Tangled Vines: A Complete Investigation of the Vatore Disappearances, the bestselling phenomenon sweeping Sim Nation!

The advent of the Roaring '20s put a new city on the map. Prohibition was in full swing across the nation (though often loosely and selectively enforced), but citizens were more eager than ever to revel in excess. Producers of alcoholic beverages (including the Vatore family itself, having swiftly resumed business operations despite the loss of its future inheritors) transitioned to an outward emphasis on medical spirits while moving recreational production underground. Equally clandestine speakeasys began cropping up by the dozens, but one city's winding sidewalks, grimy storefronts, and labyrinthine system of underground tunnels made it particularly well-suited to hosting these secret locales. Soon enough, San Myshuno was the pinnacle of glitz, glamor, and elegant debauchery. All who attended a party wanted to be seen. Curiously, though, two of the names most often uncovered in tabloid archives, Cal and Lily, seemed to fully avoid the increasingly ubiquitous flash of the camera. While other frequenters of the speakeasy circuit often found their grainy black and white faces in print, providing endless fodder for the burgeoning gossip rag industry, this pair remained elusive, which of course sold even more papers. Fellow partygoers pitched first-hand accounts to the highest bidders, and readers clung onto every salacious word. Lily and Cal were always observed to arrive together, but she would soon make a beeline for the gramophone while he settled in at the bar. Nearly every report calls Lily an exquisite beauty with an almost supernatural ability for drawing men into her orbit. In some instances, partygoers describe a herd of suitors nearly erupting into fisticuffs as they competed for her attention. It is impossible to say how many of these accounts are exaggerated or even fabricated. Nevertheless, it is clear she was quite the force. At the end of the night, she would leave with her chosen companion, stupefied by his stroke of good luck, on her arm. Meanwhile, Cal would watch listlessly from a distance, nursing a glass of whiskey he was never observed to actually drink. The relationship between the two was unclear, as was his reason for accompanying her, as he seemed to have little interest in the raucousness surrounding him. He rarely engaged with other guests or even Lily herself, though there is at least one report of an argument in which he seemed with little success to be dissuading her from leaving with yet another man. One cannot help but draw parallels to a certain set of siblings with suspiciously similar names. Despite being younger, Caleb Vatore was always said to be protective over his sister Lilith's interests, even if she rarely heeded his advice. Digging into the newspaper archives at Myshuno Meadows Library unearths several more disturbing accounts. Increasingly, there were whispers that the men Lily seduced completely vanished from San Myshuno society after coming into contact with her. While there was a small spike in unsolved murder cases at the time, a concrete connection between the victims and the mysterious Lily cannot be made. In one story, which admittedly reads like a hallucinatory drug trip, Lily is described as a succubus with glowing red eyes and sharp blood-stained teeth. This account was clearly dismissed, for its revelations were never entertained further. All at once, the champagne and glitter dissolved into a more sober era, and these socialites vanished from public life just as swiftly. In isolation, similarities between Cal and Lily and the disappeared Vatore siblings may seem like mere coincidences. In truth, it cannot even be proven that they existed. No official records matching either individual have been discovered. One could argue that they were works of fiction concocted to boost sales or composites drawn from several individuals. However, considered alongside the evidence to be presented in later chapters, the theory that this duo and the Vatores are one and the same becomes too tantalizingly probable to dismiss.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #lilith vatore #caleb vatore #oops i dropped something #thanks to the magic of storytelling i've obtained the footage #anyway i've decided lilith only kills men (on purpose anyway)#she doesn't count the accidents #also i realized while writing this that it was very subconsciously inspired by this kind of obscure british film called bright young things #(which is itself based on the novel vile bodies by evelyn waugh)#i remember it mainly being about vapid awful people in a downward spiral of increasingly debauched behavior #(in other words highly recommended)#but specifically there's a reporter character played by james mcavoy who picks up intel at parties #and then feverishly dictates his reports by phone in the middle of the night to ensure they make the morning edition #that's exactly what i'm picturing here #it's like the '20s version of celebrities being papped #anyway if you read everything under the cut and then also made it this far you're a real one #gonna cool it on the lore for now and hold onto the more interesting bits a while longer

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cecilysass · 11 months

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Scully the ice queen?

I often see people talking about the “ice queen” trope in XF fanfic from the 90s as an example of fanon becoming ubiquitous in fanfic. If you don't know what I'm talking about, this is it in a nutshell: basically, fanfic in the 1990s began to make reference to Scully as a perceived “ice queen,” both at work and in her personal life, meaning that she didn’t express her emotions, that she was repressed and cold. And then that became a thing, a standard trope that other fanfic writers drew on.

My theory is that the “ice queen” / Scully association didn’t actually come from specific works of fic or from specific individuals. I also don’t think it necessarily originated in fic and then crossed over into fan perceptions of Scully. I think it’s easy for 21st century fans to get the causal arrows mixed up on this because we're missing some historical context. I believe many viewers in the 1990s—not just fanfic writers—actually interpreted Scully differently than viewers now because they interpreted female characters differently. I think people in the 1990s were simply much more likely to interpret women serious about their professional lives as “ice queens.” Especially if their professional lives involved science.

Consider the below female scientist (P.K. Newby) writing about her graduate school experience in the 1990s.

Of course this still happens today, and of course it didn’t always happen in the 1990s. But I think it’s important that this impacted actual women living their lives in the same time period, because it’s reasonable that this also affected TV audiences’ perception of a character.

I give you this message from the Usenet discussion group alt.tv.x-files, the first season of the show, from before the fanfic Usenet group was even created. This user characterizes Scully as an “ice queen,” claiming to notice a change after Darkness Falls, and even associating it with her skepticism specifically.

(This is me showing you the whole message with the date, then showing you parts close up because it's so tiny. I'm very dedicated.)

So in this (very early online fandom) conversation, we have a fan who already read her as an “ice queen” on their own without the filter of fanfic to sway them.

Now please don’t get me wrong. Fanfic definitely took hold of the Scully / ice queen thing and ran with it. There are many examples in the Usenet group during the 1990s of people asking, “Hey, which episode was Scully called ‘ice queen’ again? and people saying, ‘Oh never, ha, that’s just a fanfic thing.’” It was a well-established trope by at least 1997. See below.

I just want people to consider that it didn’t have to be one writer, one fic, or one incident that led to the popularization of this piece of fanon. This would have been something people understood right away because it already was culturally out there in the interpretation of the character and in associations with professional women. And like the person asking the question in the above message infers, it probably did come organically from several people at once.

That said, some 1990s fans actively questioned it, observing it didn’t seem to fit with their interpretation of the show.

Notice that in the below conversation, Scully as ice queen is mixed up in perceptions of GA as ice queen, too.

(Side note: I mean, you can totally get where that person was coming from, right? Gillian Anderson was TOTALLY giving repressed, cold, virginal saint in 1997.)

As a prolific reader of fanfic, old and new, I think it’s also important to add this: it seems to me that fanfic writers more often made “Ice Queen” a hurtful nickname that Scully was called by other people (like Mulder being called “Spooky”), not an actual characterization of her personality. And actually, especially given her mostly-male workplace, this seems not unrealistic in the 1990s? Some fanfic writers may even have been writing from experience. (At least, I think I'm right in saying that tendency was true. I'd be curious to know if other readers of old fanfic think Scully herself is characterized as an "ice queen" more often than I'm saying.)

I’m an Old Person. I’m ashamed to admit that in the same time period, I had a high school friend who always studied really hard in school and prioritized grades over social life, and sometimes we jokingly called her an “ice queen.” There was no male equivalent term. So unfortunately, I know this was most definitely a thing outside of Scully and the XF fandom. Fortunately, it does seem to be something we see less of in the 2020s. (At least I think?) I just want to point it out because it’s one of those things you could think was just a little fanon quirk concerning this character or this show when really I do think it’s about gender perceptions overall.

Very interested to know, though, if others think I'm wrong.

(actual Ice queen)

#the x files #ice queen #dana scully #gillian anderson #90s culture #xfiles fanfic #tropes #x files meta #txf meta #fanon

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sileaz · 1 year

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Gemstone ✦ J.F.

✦ Jesper Fahey x Fem! Lantsov! Reader

━━━━━ ( SYNOPSIS. ) Your monotonous life as the youngest Lantsov takes an unexpected turn when, one evening, you come face to face with a man⏤ "a Crow," he insists⏤who seems determined to steal a mysterious jewel.

5K words ✦ Fluff

In a distant province, at the crossroads of several lands—Fjerda to the north and Shu Han to the south—stood a kingdom both adored and despised: Ravka. The few lonely souls, strangers to this land, who wished to cross its borders had to face the dark horror of the fold or the unpredictability of the True Sea when you did not come from the East.

If, luckily, your feet managed to tread the paved ground of the capital, Os Alta, then your gaze would be instantly drawn to the castle overlooking the city. It dominated the land, its tallest tower almost touching the sun as it was high in the sky, sending shade over the streets which, observed from above, took the form of a gigantic star. In the outer area, where peasants and simple souls lived, the houses piled up in a dancing procession of bricks, roofs, and whimsical walls. Small, large, squares, long… none were similar. Each house seemed to have been carefully shaped by the own hands of those who lived behind its walls.

One needed to venture into the heart of the city for the buildings to become more structured, losing their charm but gaining in size and prestige. Colours also disappeared, replaced by the monotonous grey of the stone, sometimes adorned with the shine of gold but without ever provoking in the retina of the passers-by a flamboyant explosion similar to those triggered by the peripheric villages. The Ravkan elite were jealous of the beautiful sight they sometimes saw on their way out of the city, separated in their carriages.

Flowers.

They covered the villages. At every corner of the streets, of the houses, the flowers decorated and coloured the hamlets with a palette of hues which could be seen nowhere else. They were an ode to greenery, colour, and joy. Its inhabitants spent their days telling each other the news of the day without worrying about the horrors that this world had to offer. It was as if the Fold had not touched them. Perhaps they wished to hide all the fear that poverty and the uncertainty of tomorrow could bring in this blooming spectacle.

Roses, hydrangeas, cornflowers, honeysuckles, lilies… all were there, adding their colours to the great and ubiquitous floral harmony, which Os Alta’s centre could only envy, as did the prettiest flower in the kingdom, trapped in the colour-and-flowerless castle. Lovely, radiant, delicate; she was a bud still waiting to be picked.

For gilding blinds the sorrow, no one knew that, enclosed in the top of her golden tower—the highest in the castle—her petals were fading one by one. Slowly. Painfully.

The sound of the piano resonated the room. It was heard, it was understood and appreciated. It made itself understood by all those present except by the person who played it. You could see your fingers moving with grace and delicacy. You were not feeling the music, you were enduring it. For you, this was not a melody, it could not possibly become one. Those were only sounds; sounds without any poetry, nor any meaning.

In the middle of this symphony, suddenly, a false note.A false note that sounded better than a note perfectly played. A false note that reminded you that nothing could be perfect — despite what your mother endeavoured herself to tell you. You wanted to smile, smile at the joy that this mistake had caused you. But you held back, keeping your back straight, your gaze fixed on the music sheet and its lines stained with shapes, of which you understood only a quarter.

“Start again.”

The voice was carried away by the draught, but nevertheless, it reached your ears: a low voice, a firm tone—annoyance. Just like that, your hands began to move again, to move to the rhythm of the notes, without any fault. The sound escaped from the strings pinched by the hammers, encompassing the room in a musical trance in which you did not participate. Your gestures, alike that of a puppet controlled by strings, stopped abruptly when, at last, the final three notes resonated several minutes later.

“You’ll play it until it reaches perfection. It is out of the question to pass for fools because of you at the gala.”

“Yes, mother.”

Receiving a positive comment from your genetrix was impossible. This lack of acknowledgment hurt you more than you wanted to admit, but no one knew about this. Your mother—the Queen—had, after all, done an exceptional job when she had taught you the art of hiding your emotions.

“A dignified queen must always appear in control of the situation, even if she is not.”

“A respectable queen must not let her emotions supplant her wisdom. They are detrimental and useless.”

These sentences were simple excerpts that made up the long list of manners you had to learn. For your parents, most specifically your mother, these were the most important thing to remember. They had focused on instructing their values. They had tried to turn you into their perfect little pet. They had not noticed how they had deprived you of freedom. They had grown attached to perfection, even more than to their own daughter.

These pieces of advice had fixed themselves in your mind. You didn’t let any feelings appear. Never an ounce of fear, anger, sadness could be seen on your face. Never once you questioned this method. Never once you thought that, perhaps, humankind needed it. Never once you thought that perhaps, it was vital for humans to show their emotions.

The most painful thing was to see that this did not apply to your brothers. Nikolai had been allowed to travel at sea, becoming a privateer guided by the wind. Vasily, when he was alive, had had the chance to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, alcohol, life.

The sound of many steps, followed by one of a closing door was the warning signal to drop this mask that had become too heavy for you; this illusion of a model princess, the worthy heir to the throne of Ravka. The citizens thought they had a strong woman in front of them, ready to lead their destiny to glory as your father had tried and failed to do.

They were wrong.

You were none of that. Sometimes, your thoughts would take you on a journey into a parallel world, a world in which royalty did not flow through your veins, a world in which luxury was only one thing you could dream of.

You stood still for a while, staring at those black and white keys; these keys that contradicted the saying, “life is not just black or white.” And it was true. Life was not reduced to two side. Life was an expanse of hues, unique to each individual. Most people had a colourful expanse, similar to the various flowers adorning the village’s streets. Some, more melancholic, held an expanse of dark tones, as dark as the Fold. You, however, had only ever experienced an expanse of grey. Your life had taken the form of a repetitive and boring rhythm, a rhythm that did not make you sing, a rhythm that did not make you dance, a rhythm that made you want to sit on a chair and stay motionless.

Resuming touch with reality, you looked around. Only silence answered you. No maid, no valet, but most of all, no mother, something that relaxed you. Your shoulders, until then tensed, fell back into their natural place, just like the curvature of your back, until then so straight that it had made you feel acute pain in your kidneys.

It was a routine you cherished, that of being able to remove for a few moments this mask of the perfect student, to be able to cut the puppet’s strings. The unfortunate thing, and above all the most painful, however, was knowing that these threads and this mask would control you again in a few hours. Oh, how much you hated this life. If only you could run away, your existence would immediately become simpler. You envied criminals and their lawless world. No more responsibilities, no more orders, no more parents and their lack of empathy. Nothing more than freedom.

How beautiful it was to dream...

You waited for a few moments, finding solace in this silence which, while some might have described it as deafening, differed so much from the sound of this damned piano. That was maybe why you thought of it as beautiful. Standing up was a difficult task to achieve; no matter the season, day, time, your maids persisted in covering your body with the most delicate fabrics and intriguing knots, the beauty of the outfit had always prevailed over comfort, forcing you to keep a smile on your face while your chest was constantly compressed.

When, finally, you headed for your quarters, walking with a steady and assured step, you admired the windows and the beautiful landscape they offered you. The sunset had been magnificent and the moon, almost full, had risen, pouring its silvery light over the plain, the mountain and the mounds that rose here and there.

During your journey among the huge corridors empty of any presence, you observed the bindings of the walls for which you could not pretend care. The people your mother and brothers invited, governors, diplomats from neighbouring lands, were ecstatic at every detail of these walls, floors. They admired the finesse with which the sculptor had carved the stones, the candlesticks covered in gold and the precision of the carpenter who had created the dressers.

All you could see was bricks, candles, and wood. Nothing less, nothing more. There was nothing worth babbling in admiration, after all, it was obvious that these people possessed excessive castles and other dwellings adorned with the same, if not better, attributes. It was only the result of the sheer hypocrisy in which the court of the king, your father, had bathed. Among this crowd, all wanted to be thought highly of, thus laughing falsely at every word, before criticizing those with whom they had just discussed.

However, you were careful to not share your observations with these people, who would laugh with contempt at each of your words, wondering how such an ungrateful and uneducated girl would become the queen.

The castle was plunged into darkness with one exception; on the stones the yellow glow of the still illuminated candlesticks glowed. Your hands caressed the soft fabric of your white silk dress out of sheer nervousness. The wind was howling, crashing against the windows and trees. Chills ran down your spine. The grip on the fabric not loosening, you picked up the pace, hoping to get to your room as soon as possible. Something was terrifying about being alone in this vastness.

Your trembling pupils grew larger as the candlelight dimmed. You felt that the temperature of the castle had suddenly dropped, your whole body beginning to shiver. The silence that you had enjoyed earlier had been broken, disturbed by whispers, footsteps that seemed to become louder. Passing by the throne room, your whole body froze when your eye caught something abnormal.

The door was ajar.

That had never happened before, you were sure of it. In all the moments that made up your miserable life, never had you seen this door open at night. The castle guards made sure to lock it every night, before beginning their rounds. This room was only open to the public on very rare occasions; even yourself could count on your fingers the number of times your feet had treaded the tiled floor. Of course, the gala was approaching fast, but why start preparations in the middle of the night? It was complete nonsense.

Deciding that it would be a wise decision to check what was going on, you approached the carved and gilded door, full of apprehension.

You did not believe in all the nonsense that the old madwoman of the village uttered all day long, this lady whom all the inhabitants had praised for her talents as an oracle. There was nothing more ridiculous than thinking of having power over the future yet so uncertain and anything else mystical. However, and as much as you hated to admit it, as you stood, ready to open that door, you could only trust your instinct. Something didn’t feel right.

Trembling, your fingers wrapped themselves around one of the handles, ready to push it to glimpse inside. With your gaze fixed on your action, it was impossible for you to notice the human silhouette that merged with yours.

“Hello there.”

A bloodcurdling scream resonated in the castle. Yours.

“Shush, princess. It would be a shame to get caught. Don’t you think?”

A hand was pressed against your mouth, forcing you to swallow back your protests. Pupils trembling, heart beating fast, your first reaction was to struggle. Your assailant took the blows without flinching as if your kicks were just a caress. Many tears flowed down your cheeks. Fear slowly crept into your veins, like a snake crawling through a deserted forest, not wanting to be spotted by potential prey.

The only exception being that, here, you were the prey.

What was going to happen to you? Was this how your life was going to end, at the hands of a criminal? The latter loosened his grip on your waist, but while you saw an opportunity to escape, your ambitions were completely destroyed when he, instead, imprisoned your wrists. The man pulled you into the room with him before closing the door, which you were sure awoke the whole castle.

"Sorry princess, but I need you to stay quiet a little longer.”

A candle was lit, illuminating the face of the man who would surely be responsible for your death. You felt your cheeks warm at the sight of man. Tall and graceful, his features exuded a mix mischievousness and innocence—what a joke, you thought. A slight mocking but sweet smile was addressed to you. A smile so beautiful it must have been carved by the sun itself. He was beautiful, even ethereal. Never had your father’s pretenders reached the level of beauty you were now facing. His curly black hair fell before dark eyes, sparkling of malice. Bowing, he grabbed your hand to lay a kiss on it, a gift from his pink and thin lips.

"My name is Jesper, princess. It is an honour to meet the one who makes the entire kingdom swoon,” he winked.

“The honour is not mutual. Unhand me at this instant, thief.”

“Ouch, careful with your words, princess! I’m not a thief. I’m a Crow,” he insisted.

You had heard about this name. Nikolai had mentioned it in one of his many letters. You could not remember the exact term he had used to describe them, but there was no doubt that crime was a byword for it.

It was just your luck to be faced with a member of one of the Ketterdam gangs.

For the first time in many months, a dose of adrenaline rushed in your veins. For the first time in many years, the excitement of being a part of an adventure—even though you were the victim — rushed in your veins. For the first time in your life, you felt alive.

You were pathetic, you knew it, walking into the lion's den so simply. Perhaps it was because you so desperately wished to live and feel, even fear. Perhaps it was because he had been the only one in several years to speak to you with a semblance of emotions in his voice, even if it was malice. This tone changed from the contemptuous one used by all those with whom you had been forced to converse.

This man, you did not know him, had just spoken to you as a normal person, if we ignored the excessive use of “princess.” So, yes, maybe this man—a strange character—, who had just broken in the castle if we were to judge the dust on his hands and face, should have been reported to the guards from the moment his hand had met yours… That should have been his destiny, yes, but you could not bring yourself to do it.

“I demand you to immediately let go of my hand, sir,” you repeated, for he had seemed deaf to your order the first time.

He did so, but not without caressing your skin which he found to be as soft as a plum. The harmonious features that made up your face were royal, worthy of a queen. You were one of the most beautiful sculptures of beauty, a faithful allegory of the saints. Jesper could not look away from your figure. He found your beauty almost poetic as it told a story. On your skin, he saw the expression line caused by excessive and forced laughter. In your eyes, he could see the redness caused by repressed tears. The image you sent back was that of a masterpiece of celestial and melancholy.

All these rumours, those which spoke of an heiress with beauty as pure as a Saint were true.

After straightening his posture, the shooter dusted off his clothes. This particular gesture caused you to draw your attention to them. The black suit adorning his body made you frown, confirming your thoughts. An outfit like this had no place in this castle.

"Who are you, and what is the reason for your presence here, sir?”

A smile lit up his face as he approached you—making your breath hitch at the same time. What a strange man, you thought. He didn’t seem to care about anything, not even the fact that a single word coming out of your mouth could lead him to death. His step was light, giving the impression that he was floating rather than walking. With one hand, he grabs a strand of your hair, wriggling it around his index finger. Two mischievous eyes met yours.

To say you were surprised at this closeness with a stranger was an understatement. Wanting to keep you pure for your husband, your mother had strictly forbidden you to approach men, no matter their age, without a chaperone. Since childhood, your thoughts had been occupied by the responsibilities of being queen, the future that awaited you, never had you had time to find a moment to let your imagination flow to men. This land was totally unknown for you.

That’s why you didn't understand what was happening to you.

Why had your heart suddenly started to beat wildly when the scents of tobacco and musk, an exquisite combination, had reached your senses?

“I already told you,” a sly smile appeared on his face, “The name’s Jesper. The prettiest member of the Crows. As for my presence here… I am looking for a particular object, a gemstone if I may add.” He refrained from saying more. Kaz would kill him.

It was as if someone had just poured a bucket full of ice water on your body. A grimace formed on your face, a face that, you hated to admit, when you were angered, took on features that were known to belong to your mother. Your hand abruptly put an end to his touch by pulling his finger out of your hair. Two steps backwards were taken before an accusatory finger was pointed towards him.

"If you think I will let you steal my brother’s crown or his sceptre, then you’re absolutely wrong. You must leave before I warn the guards about your arrival and how you manhandled me.”

“It won’t be necessary, sweetheart,” he replied, starting once again to play with your hair. He admired for a few moments the strands against which his fingers were slipping, they shone so much that he could have confused them with silk. You swatted his hand away, huffing. This man was slowly but surely pissing you off. "The gemstone will already be too far away for it to be recovered.”

Impossible. The guards had been chosen amongst the bravest and strongest men in Ravka. It was not a wretched criminal—his clothes made him look like one—that was going to counter that. He was alone, there were dozens of them. You shared your thoughts with him, scoffing at how ridiculous and overconfident he sounded.

"What is this jewel, anyway?” you went on, annoyance slowly increasing. “It must be small if you think its disappearance will not be noticed.”

He imprisoned between his long fingers your chin, which he directed upwards, before plunging his gaze into yours. His pupils were unstable, constantly going back and forth on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your hair…

You were really beautiful, ethereal even, he thought.

This man—that you had never heard of—was watching, even scrutinizing you, so intensely that you broke the eye contact, embarrassed. With his simple glance, the man had just sent the immeasurable number of lessons given by your mother flying. Even if it was impossible to hide the erratic beat of your heart and the warmth of your cheeks, you tried to maintain a neutral expression.

The words he articulated were spoken in a soft but mischievous voice, in the same tone that someone who would have taken to tell a secret.

"It’s the most beautiful gemstone in the kingdom. It is said that its beauty exceeds that of a pure diamond. Many wish to make it theirs; hypnotized at the thought of seeing this mysterious treasure with their own eyes. It is however inaccessible, enclosed between the walls of this castle. Only the most reckless tried to overcome this obstacle, but no one had succeeded. No one until me.”

"I… I am… not sure I understand what you may be talking about, Mr. Jesper.” Your voice was trembling, by the Saints, why was it trembling?

He shrugged, reassuring you that you would soon understand what his words meant. Looking around, assessing the room in which you were both still standing, his gaze finally landed on a small door at the back, next to the imposing throne. You swallowed when you understood where his eyes were focused. In this room was the wanted gemstone, worth millions of kruge. If by misfortune, this Jesper, whoever he was, managed to gain access to this room, your mother would have his head and yours with it.

"You cannot do that.” The façade you were trying to keep intact was starting to crack, its bases weakening at each of his words. It would collapse soon, for sure. Nevertheless, you had to hold it together until he was no longer in front of you. It was out of the question for him to see how his mere presence was managing to destabilize you.

"It isn’t in there. Though I might have to return one day. I could use some diamonds or even rubies. I’m not picky. Both suit my complexion, he sassed.”

What a boor!

The way he behaved triggered in you a fire that was increasingly becoming more difficult to contain. You were bubbling with anger. Didn’t this man understand what his presence here meant? Didn’t he understand how dangerous it was for him, for you? Frowning, fists clenched so strongly that your nails had made crescent shapes appear in your palms, you tried to stay calm. However, something in you snapped when he had the nerve to laugh.

"Get out! I said get out!”

Your cry was so loud that he recoiled several steps, his hands held up.

“Wow, calm down princess.”

The feeling of having your face on fire becoming disagreeable, you breathed slowly, a hand on it to calm you down. The beating of your heart resonating in your ears, you did not hear the few patting that sounded strangely like footsteps. It was only when the thief approached you, catching your hand in his, that you did realize the threat that was advancing faster and faster, always getting a little closer to its prey. You two.

Suddenly, many sounds of metal friction were heard in the silence of the castle, before shouted orders resonated, they had been pronounced so precisely that they could only be uttered by those who regularly surveyed these grounds.

The guards.

Your wide eyes crossed those of the man. The latter, frightened, stared in front of him, a hand on the holster on his belt, trying to determinate how long it would take these men to reach you. By the sound of their armours, it would not take long. Shaking his head, his thoughts converged in the same direction: he had to protect you—you were precious cargo, after all. Not that you knew.

Kaz would have his head if he were to scuttle the heist.

A profanity was muttered; it being a word you couldn’t even bear pictured in your thoughts. Without you being able to understand what was going on, your body found itself placed without any delicacy on a shoulder clad in black clothes.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’m a renowned gentleman in Ketterdam.”

“Ketterdam?!”

Jesper began to run at full speed to one of the nearest windows, mysteriously already opened. He must have broken in through here, you concluded. Looking behind him, the man hurried to jump off the ledge when his eyes caught sight of the armed men’s horde dressed in armour.

Ignoring your screams, and the blows your little fists dealt to his back, he reaffirmed his grip on you before jumping, trying his best to protect you as much as possible from the impact.

The flower field softened your landing.

The eyes that you had closed under fear began to filter the moonlight again. The incomprehension could be seen on your face. If he had had the intelligence to steal his oh so precious gemstone and leave without a word, everything would have gone well. It wouldn’t have been difficult for you to make up a lie about your presence in this room.

After all, lies were nothing new to you, they were constantly spilling from your lips. “Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I’m glad to be here. Yes, I can’t wait to become the queen.” Finding an alibi would have been a breeze and would have allowed the thief to escape safely. But, in the name of the Saints! Why did he drag you into this? Now his chances of survival had just been reduced to nothing and you were cold.

In the middle of the chaos that were your thoughts, you could not help but notice something, however. Watching his pockets, nothing seemed to resemble near or far to a jewel.

“Where’s that famous gemstone? Tell me this mess wasn’t caused for nothing.”

“It’s right there, sweetheart.” Not waiting any longer, he took your hand, dragging you through the field of flowers, moving you further and further away from the castle. “Hurry up before the kingdom learns that their precious princess is gone.”

Soon you reached Os Alta’s outskirts.

Your eyes looked around, admiring with almost childlike curiosity the greenery that surrounded you. Stopping, forcing Jesper to do the same, you crouch in the grass, unconcerned about getting your dress dirty. Your eyes wide open, sparkling with happiness, fixed themselves on a flower with red petals. Slowly, your index came to caress the sweetness of this little gift that nature had honoured your kingdom with. One tear flowed, then the other, falling delicately on one of the petals, a morning dew ahead of time.

For the first time, you saw and touched a real flower that was much more beautiful that what you had imagined the windows of the castle. For the first time, you could admire nature in its most beautiful form, you could be part of this painting and not just have to look at it knowing that it would never become a reality.

Watching the delicate features of the man who had just taken your hand to help you get up, gently caressing it with his thumb, you laugh. For the first time in your life, a real laugh shook your body, lodged tears of joy in your eyes. For the first time in your life, you felt free. For the first time in your life, you took your courage with both hands, ignoring the voice of your mother who tormented your thoughts, and stood on tiptoe to land a delicate kiss on Jesper's cheek, near his lips.

There was a silence that caused your heart to miss a beat. Did you just ruin everything? Perhaps you were deluding yourself? God, you could already hear your mother yelling at you, and the court laughing. Your cheeks tinged with red by embarrassment, you desperately tried to get away from him, wanting to preserve the last spark of dignity you had but you could not do such thing, already his arm had imprisoned your waist and his hand your cheek. Without your brain being able to apprehend the rest, his lips landed delicately on yours, but they immediately withdrew, so quickly that you thought you had imagined their warmth. A chaste kiss, which sent your thoughts into unspeakable chaos. With wide eyes, red face, you tried to hide the latter in the man’s chest shaken by his laughter.

“We’ll do more of that later, Jewel. For now, we need to get moving or Kaz will definitely have my head and I need it to kiss you.”

Suddenly, in the grey hue that had summed up your whole life, drops of paint fell. They fell by dozens. Red. Yellow. Even green. A real summer shower whose raindrops painted the air, your soul, your heart in colours all brighter than the other. It was a splendid picture of a field of flowers that appeared in your thoughts. In the midst of these tasks of colour, of cheerfulness, two silhouettes ran, their hands intertwined; above them, a crow loomed, almost like a protector.

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