#or despair

[live-laugh-legolas]

I have just stumbled upon “Gandalf big naturals” and I don’t know what to feel

[kaus-quietis]

Greetings, Anon! Thank you for your questions. I have to admit, even in the past, I refrained from posting reactions or speculations as BSD chapters release, but you already knew that, so I will indulge you. I'll answer each part of your ask. BSD ch113 thoughts below, manga spoilers ahead.

♠ "What was your raw reaction?" It was not a calm, quiet one, I can tell you that. No, in fact I screamed with excitement as if I was in a Roman amphitheatre and my favourite gladiator just got back up on his feet, out of sheer force of will, grinning and sweaty. My scream was the fastest way I could "verbalize" the fact that I was overjoyed to see him alive again, even if it's in the 15th century, and on top of that he seemed to be some kind of spy monk all chained up and having what seems to be a ridiculous amount of fun getting caught and discussing with Bram. This is all very in-character for him.

♠ "Was that something you expected?" Absolutely not. Yes, yes, I truly did not expect a jump back in time and this infobomb drop, despite the fact that we did get a few hints that Fedya seemed present at past events when all the other character really appeared younger than him (near the end of S4ep3, where on a rooftop Fedya says "It's not V, it's Five" and I am seriously like bruh I give up what I want to say is I need more data to work with, what am I supposed to do with this, rationally speaking?). However, we can't yet extract anything conclusive from this. Is he ageless? A time-traveler? Immortal? Does he revive? When was he born? Was he born at all or created differently somehow? Is he of BSD's world, or an external one (Beast liveaction finale anyone?)? Is this all within the Book and he's just… idk flipping the pages? Anything is possible and I refuse to spend a lot of time working with incomplete data. This is not very follower-friendly (as in, my blog is basically inactive in-between), I know and I apologize, but if after many chapters there will be something worthwile to add to my essay (with what Fukuchi said in ch113 I already have important stuff to add), under those circumstances I will consider writing an update. It's not yet time.

♠ "<Was that> something you felt different for the characterization we all made for Fyodor?" Hmm, I would hesitate to refer to a characterization "we all made" for him (I wish! T o T), because my analysis and blog are but a tiny tiny part of the fandom (I think…? I wonder about my Fedya essay's reach or influence sometimes). But let's say here we refer to one that comes close to what I tried to show in my essay. In that case, I would say that there is nothing to fear here in this chapter, but it's very understandable to have massive trust issues at this point. We went through a miserable, miserable time when the previous ones made the guy who visually memorized a full deck of used cards somehow not notice Chuuya wearing contacts and fake vampire teeth, despite knowing the vampire race since… well, the 15th century! I cannot even begin to describe what I felt reading ch111.5-112, I was beyond repulsed. Lovers of "villain" characters understand the following thing well: in most media, our fav has to lose, he has to die or disappear at some point, with rare exceptions. I, too, know this well, but that was no compelling way to solve BSD's villain threat. I still don't know how BSD will wash away that narrative stain, as I consider it, but then again one of the reasons we love this manga is that it keeps us on the edge of our seats and the most absurd yet fun turns can happen out of the blue. We can reasonably ask ourselves: ok, what is the purpose of showing Fedya's backstory now? If it's for build-up, we can already start grinning like Cheshire cats. What could possibly be next? I'm cautiously optimistic, things look in-character and good to me. Very good, in fact.

♠ "Or do you think it is later on going add some depth to his character?" Backstories are shown usually for a very clear purpose. We don't know the purpose yet, but if it's done well, then… then my whole essay could be at risk lmao (and I love this sensation). New info could add so much depth to his character, in fact, that his previously observed traits could gain new meanings, or even contradictory ones. Whichever it will be, I think it's pretty safe to bet on "his backstory will be very relevant".

♠ Bonus: even if I enjoy going "full analytical" and enter conference speech mode when asked, I am driven by strong emotions, by which I want to say – I am not immune to assassin/spy monk Fedya chained up like that and having the time of his life again. I missed seeing him entertained like that, and his current …………. visual representation in the.. uh. ..chapter, yeah, well, it's doing things to my Depeche Mode-worshipping heart.

Anyway, to conclude with some facts we know as of now:

a. Fedya and Bram are inside the Bran Castle, close to the Romanian city of Brașov, "deep in the Carpathians" although not built at high altitude itself. It's basically a fortress built between 1377-1388, with several later additions. The BSD representation of it is very accurate to how it looks today. It's near perfect, actually, I applaud.

b. Bram mentions King Matthias, and in this context that can only mean Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary for 1458-1490. The meeting between Fedya and Bram thus happens some year during his reign, when Transylvania was still part of the Kingdom of Hungary. What is still strange to me is that I can't pinpoint Bram's exact position, as in… were his people independent? Or avoided? I feel like I need to re-read past Bram-related chapters to think about this.

c. Nevermind Bram, the things that Fukuchi says, those are the real goldmine here, but the gold is still… encrypted? I mean: Fedya made the DoA plan (more than confirmed now), and because Fukuchi asked for the condition to keep casualties under 500, Fedya respected that and we got entertained for like half of the whole BSD manga: using coin bombs for terror, for economic/political destabilization, using the vampire infection to avoid further violence, these things. The more you think about it, the more insane it gets. Since Fedya agreed to this condition, it means causing (more) deaths and violence were expendable things to him. (But imagine this: Fukuchi said "I want max. 500 deaths" and Fedya said "Yeah I can do that", now if Fukuchi would've said "I want max. 2 deaths" I really believe Fedya would've still said "Yeah I can do that". What can't he do, especially since murder for murder's sake isn't his goal?). This is in perfect harmony with his "necessary deaths only" approach so far, and much much more. There are far more implications in what Fukuchi said, which I won't type out here now. Gotta keep them and build around them for a future analysis update.

This was a rather long read, but still, I hope this satisfies your curiosities, Anon. *bows dramatically & disappears in a borderline insufferable ENTP way*

[up-sideand-down]

Here We Go Again

I said I was thinking about a Mamma Mia-esque AU with some ABBA lyrics in there. I wasn’t lying. This is it. 

AO3 Link

Cloud fussed with her mother’s sweater after she finished pouring tea. Claudia swatted her daughter’s hand away with a nod towards their guest. Tifa, used to the Strife’s silent arguments, was more than happy to put sugar in her own tea.

“I had hoped you weren’t hurt too badly,” Claudia said, “I told them they needed to take better care of the guides.” Tifa just shrugged, scratching under the strap of her arm sling.

“It’s just a scratch, but it could be a fracture,” she said with a shrug, “They told me to keep it like this for today to let their Materia heal it if that’s the case.”

“I take it you’re not going up there again though,” Claudia said. Tifa looked disappointed.

“No,” she said, “I would, but…whatever monsters that reactor made…they’re too tough, even for me.” Tifa smirked at Cloud’s snort. Claudia gave her daughter a disapproving look, but ignored it.

“That’s…kinda why I asked to come over,” Tifa admitted, “I’m not going back, so…those ShinRa guys will need a new guide.” Cloud knew where this was going.

“No,” Cloud said, “I’ve had enough of ShinRa for a lifetime.”

“It’d just be a couple days,” Tifa said, “And everybody knows you’re the best-“

“I’m retired,” Cloud said, adding one more cube of sugar to her mother’s tea.

“Cloud Strife,” Claudia said sternly, “You are 20 years old and too young to live off that retirement package…especially with my doctor’s bills.”

“And they are paying, Cloud,” Tifa said, “Paying very well.”

“Oh yeah,” Cloud said, “How much is this pay?” She blew on her tea before taking a sip. Probably half of what her infantry pay was.

Tifa told her.

Cloud choked. Her mother pat her on the back, a little smugly.

“That’s almost triple my salary when I was in Midgar,” Cloud said, “those assholes were holding out on me.”

“That’s why…I think you should do it,” Tifa said. Cloud caught the look she gave Claudia.

“You knew she was going to ask,” Cloud said. Claudia looked saddened.

“What’s the name of the game, Ma?” she asked.

“Chiquitita,” Ma said, “I hate to see you like this, you’re so sad, so quiet. You’re draining yourself dry to take care of me,” Claudia said, “At least with this…I can know you’ll have something leftover when I’m…”

“With that kind of money,” Cloud started, “I could move us to Mideel…where that clinic is.”

“And…you are the best shot in this town,” Tifa added, “by far.”

“Your gun still work?” Cloud asked her mother.

“What am I a fool?” Claudia said, “Of course it does, Chiquitita.” And Cloud sighed.

“Alright…how do I get started.”

Habit made her tuck her hair under her beanie. She suddenly missed that god awful helmet as the SOLDIERs came up. Three of them. This monster things must have been serious if they sent three SOLDIERs. She remembered them well enough from her infantry days. A lot of her comrades hoped to join them. She had too for a while. She had long since given up on the idea.

She had liked Commander Hewley well enough. He had the foresight to tell her to ignore Private Hessen. She hadn’t heard of the third one before. He must have just arrived because she hadn’t seen him before. She’d remember seeing someone with silver hair.

“Nice…another hot chick,” the young man who had to be Hessen said, “You sure know how to pick ‘em Hewley.”

“I’m certain Angeal chose her because she knows the area much better than you do,” the newbie said.

“I chose her because she was the only volunteer,” Hewley said, “though I’m sure she’d be happy to walk away due to your attitude Blake. Giving us another day without a decent guide and leaving us stuck here.” Cloud detected the disapproval in Hewley’s voice and noticed Hessen wilt a little. She didn’t smirk…completely.

“Besides,” Hewley stated, “Ms. Strauss does have a resume history with the company.”

“So…we have a private Strauss?” Hessen said.

“Corporal,” Cloud corrected, “and I’m sorry to order you about but I suggest we start moving. I’m not comfortable taking the bridge.”

“Why not?” Hessen challenged.

“Because I’ve been on it when it’s snapped before,” Cloud replied, “And the town can’t always afford to do scheduled maintenance on it. Once we get down in the valley I can get you through the cave system. There will probably be more of those…monster things y’all are looking for on my path.” Hessen wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Then lead away Ms. Strauss,” Hewley said. Cloud readjusted her weapon.

The incident with Tifa must have startled the SOLDIERs. The moment she heard the growl they pushed her back and unsheathed their weapons. They didn’t tell her to stay put, but it was heavily implied. A little insulting, but Cloud had seen enough SOLDIERs to know they could do things she just couldn’t.

She did, however, take them ditching her as full permission to load her weapon. She heard the howls and knew it was probably Fangs. The mako probably drove them insane. Made them unafraid of humans and so much stronger.

She saw Hewley start at her first shot. He noted the dead Fang behind him. Hewley held one cupped hand over his head, asking her to cover them as they fought. She had permission to shoot. She smiled.

“Couldn’t let us have all of them,” Hessen grumbled.

“She was covering us,” Hewley said nudging the Private, “which is how she is earning triple rate for being our guide. Besides, we are to expect a lot of hostile activity. There will be bigger and harder things the deeper in we go. She’s helping us keep some stamina so we can save the ethers.”

“I thought I recognized you,” the silver haired one said more softly, “You were the runner-up in the sharp-shooter contest 8 months ago.” She just shrugged.

“Your hair was shorter then,” he noted.

“Military regulation,” Cloud offered, “I see it doesn’t apply to all SOLDIERs though.”

“I heard the Turks talking about recruiting you,” the man continued.

“They offered,” she admitted, “but I had to come home.”

“For what it’s worth…I don’t think you would be the best Turk…their cover fire is not as…precise.” Cloud smiled at that.

“That is either the strangest flirt or the most sincere compliment,” she said, “I’ll take the latter.”

“That’s…what it was.” She fought not to laugh at him.

“Sephiroth, quit weirding out the guide,” Hessen said, “I may still have a shot.”

“Only in your nightmares,” Cloud replied.

Ten Years Later

Zack sneezed at the cloud of dust that puffed when he moved the next box in the storage room.

“Bless you,” His Ma said, “but…what do you think?” Zack looked around the cluttered room. He saw a window, a nice little cove to put a bed, empty walls to put up his pictures and posters …yea he could visualize the first room he would have all to himself

“I think it’s perfect,” Zack said. His Ma ruffled his hair.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep any of it?” he asked. Ma blue a wayward spike of blonde hair out of her face.

“Well if you want to go through it, that can be your job,” she said, “I haven’t looked at most of this crap in years.”

“I can price some stuff then,” Zack said, drawing a smiley face in the dust on a cabinet.

“Deal,” she said, “we’ll cart, you organize. I’ll get Barret with that lift.” Zack ran down to the room he shared with his mom and pulled out one of his washable markers before dashing back down to the storage room that hadn’t been lived in since his Gran was alive. He heard various people calling for his Ma, her own voice arguing back. Running a hotel was a tough business…especially in a vacation spot like Mideel, but she made do. Zack had saved various travel articles that praised their little hotel. Small and cozy, but good service and lovely views. With a short jaunt to some mako fountains. She was probably hoping to use the money selling most of this stuff to start building that addition she was planning.

Let’s see the cabinet was dusty, but sturdy. Looked like it would fit in their dining room or more sparse guestrooms. If not keeping 50 Gil.

Boxes of old books. 1 Gil per book.

Another box of books

An old tool box. Give to Cid or sell for 30 Gil.

Some old curtains it seemed. Clean and sell for 20 Gil.

Another box of…scrapbooks. Zack paused. He pulled one out. He opened it gently. It had been buried and spared most of the dust. He recognized his mother instantly, even as a baby. Her hair was still blonde and spiky and her eyes so blue.

Actually…his baby pictures looked an awful lot like hers. He flipped through pausing and smiling at how carefully Gran had put this together.

Cloud, 5 years, summer festival — featuring Ma in a flower crown.

Cloud, 8 years, after winning King of the Hill — featuring Ma with a wooden sword, held triumphantly over her head.

Cloud, 10 years, first hunt —Ma with Gran’s gun slung on her back. He set it aside too look over later. Then a photo slipped out. Zack picked it up.

It wasn’t a photo, but a newspaper article with a picture. He furrowed his brow. He recognized his Ma. She didn’t match the other’s uniforms, just dressed comfortably, with her hair tucked under a hat. It was what she wore when they went hiking together. He didn’t know those men though. Or their uniforms. The belts looked somewhat familiar.

“ShinRa ending mako monster rampages,” the headline read.

ShinRa SOLDIER agents ready to depart with guide Cloud Strife, the picture caption said. His heart leapt a little at that. This must have been what SOLDIER uniforms looked like 10 years ago. His heart almost stopped as he looked closer at the men.

He sprinted out of the room, nearly knocking Barret off balance. He didn’t hear Barret shouting at him to watch where he was going, or to get back here and help him. He sprinted back up to his room, digging through his drawers to find some of his posters. He found the one from ShinRa…the one his mom hated. He unrolled it, kneeling on it until he could see the face he was looking for. He held the newspaper photo up to it.

They matched. The newspaper version was much younger, but they were a match.

His mother had worked with Sephiroth—the Sephiroth—once before. He couldn’t squash the thought.

He’d asked Ma dozens of times, perhaps thousands. He loved her with all his heart…but he wanted to know. He was curious as to who his Dad was. Why he wasn’t here. Ma always promised to tell him when he was older. It still hurt sometimes.

And now all Zack wanted to know was if it was possible for Sephiroth to be his Dad. He was ten years old…and this article was from ten years ago.

Was it possible?

Cloud walked into the storage where Barret was chastising her missing son. She shook her head, then saw the book. She smiled at her Mother’s handiwork. She had loved making these books. She touched a few photos that featured her late mother. There was a piece of paper glued on the back page. She read it with a sad smile on her face. A poem from her mother, a song really, telling her to cheer up. It was exactly what her mother would do.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t throw everything out,” she said to herself.

“What you wanna keep the wardrobe now?” Barret said.

“Not that dummy!” Cloud said, “Zack get back down here and help if you want your own room!”

“Coming Ma!” She shook her head, but set the scrapbooks aside, with a gentle pat.

Chiquitita, you and I know

How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leaving

You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end

You will have no time for grieving

Chiquitita, you and I cry

But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you

Let me hear you sing once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

Try once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

— Keep singing for me Cloud. With all the love from your Ma.

[unhingedthinking]

Brain dump after this jump that’s more me needing to get shit out of my brain. Feel free to keep scrolling. I’m just whining, I’ll be good in a day or so.

My supervisor sent me an email asking me to write a few sentences about how they’re helping me achieve a timely completion of my PhD. 

And my first thought was “you’re really not.”

I hate that that was my first thought about my supervisor, and in extension, my supervisory team. I am in no way shape or form on track for any form of a timely completion of this degree. If I’m being honest, I haven’t written, like, really written, in months. Like to the point that everything that I do write I throw out because I don’t feel like it’s going to get past my supervisors as “good enough.” 

You know how long it took me to rewrite my introductory paragraph to my first chapter? Three months. Three. Fucking. Months. That’s how much this degree has destroyed my confidence in my writing ability. Or my abilities in general. 

This is mainly coming from me kind of forcibly being placed on part time, and then a conversation where I was told that everything that I’d done so far was essentially garbage that wouldn’t hold up in external examination as it was terribly written and not well justified. Like I lost my space at university where I got to work, I lost a lot of HDR support from other students that I saw around campus, and I lost a core part of my identity along with it. I was the academic person who excelled in theory and research and writing. Like that was pretty much what I sacrificed teaching and a heck of a lot of other opportunities to work towards. And basically I felt like I was reduced to the guy who is still working in the same job that he has since high school, dabbling in writing a really long essay that’s not really worth anything. I’m going to be honest, I’ve lost all confidence in myself and everything about who I thought I was in the past couple of months.

You know how much that sucks? To have zero confidence in something that you have always been praised for being good at your entire life? I honestly cannot find anything good in any of my writing that I do anymore. I’ve rewritten this paragraph for the sixth time for fucks sake. 

I have spent the past fortnight lying on my couch when I don’t have to go into work to financially support myself, unable to summon the will to open up the document to write, or even to finish my ethics anymore. I’ve been stuck in this ethics limbo for months without anyone actually giving me solid feedback or direction, and I’m just lost in this sense of limbo. 

I’ve been doing this for a year and a half, and I feel like I’m going nowhere. Like I’ve legitimately gone nowhere apart from jumping over a candidature milestone, only to find myself right back to where I originally started. I’m tired. I’m just so fucking tired all the fucking time. I kind of need an out, which I kind of got.

I accepted a teaching contract and I was legitimately scared of telling my supervisors about it, and it’s only for two weeks. And that sucks. As my supervisor and I have known each other for the better part of a decade. They know a heck of a lot more about me than most, and are meant to be my main support in this long journey, and I didn’t want to tell them that I was doing something good for me, because I was scared they’d tell me that I wasn’t focused on my PhD and I should be doing more towards that.

So I honestly don’t know how to respond to their request. I don’t feel like I’m being supported. I don’t feel like I’m getting my PhD done in a timely manner. I don’t feel like I’m meeting any of the outer components of doing this kind of degree. By that I mean that supervisors are encouraged to seek out opporunities that help develop their PhD candidate to gain more experience as an academic, like tutoring opportunities, research contracts, introduction to and developing research networks, opportunities for publications, etc. 

I didn’t realise how much of this I hadn’t been doing until I had to fill out my yearly progress report, which asked me to look at whether I’d done any of this. I sat there with my supervisor awkwardly going “well, I joined a reading group, and I’ve found a couple of research contracts of my own, and I presented at a HDR conference”, knowing that I found most of these on my own, and was discouraged at presenting at another thing because it “wasn’t academic enough”. Like I want that experience. I want to get away from working in retail and do more teaching and research and academic progress. But there’s just no support, not even at an institutional level from the university itself. I’m over feeling like crap, but I know that I need to finish this degree, even if it kills me in the process because it means I’ll be able to work as an academic down the track when I’ve gotten over most of the trauma from doing this degree.

I mean I’ll still write the lines. I’ll smile and say everything’s okay. My supervisor is still a great person, and a great academic. They’re doing the best they can as well. I’ll just keep trying to make everything seem okay until it is.

 Though I guess that’s the problem I have with the “fake it till you make it” mantra. Nobody ever mentions how much it makes you want to jam a chef’s knife into the side of your neck most days of the week, whilst still smiling to make everyone think that your life is fine and normal when all you want to do cease to exist so that for once you can just fucking stop and rest.

Honestly, this is just one element that’s piling on my general lack of mental welfare, but it feels like I’ve been drowning for a while now, and honestly I’m not sure if I actually want to be saved. I’m not even sure I want to save myself. I guess time will tell if the drowning takes hold, or instinct will.

[set-wingedwarrior]

My classmates English pronuntiation makes me want to cry

[fungii]

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE

[fennel]

After spending pretty much all day trading for Zygarde, I am sitting at 25. Only 6 more to go until I have a box +1.