microcosmia

[microcosmia]

i have this unrealistic fantasy in my head where if you calmly and logically explain something to someone perfectly they will understand your position and gain knowledge from the exchange. unfortunately in the real world this does not happen often

[microcosmia]

we're back!

I'm back from my annual limited-wifi-and-technology vacation!

It sucked more than last year (which I hadn't thought was possible)!

I am again astounded by the people who I call family and thought I knew but evidently thought much better of them than they actually are!

I am renewed in my belief that a tenet of Christianty should be a apoliticism (that is, being apolotical)!

I have caught up with the news (cries)!

I have caught up with Wind Breaker (smiles)!

I have not started up on my fics again yet (sweats)!

I will now doom scroll to begin processing the mental strain of the last week and be thankful this vacation Is Not Happening next year!

[microcosmia]

So there's gossip about some version of kinktober over on twitter adding a bunch of nonsensical rules this year, and I am fascinated. Studying this like a bug.

Like, what the hell.

(context link)

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tgcf mutual: no one understands the Character.

mdzs mutual: today i blocked 5 people in the Character tag. i'm starting to suspect no one in this fandom can read.

svsss mutual: today i spent 6 hours brainstorming new ways for Character and Character to fuck nasty. here are the results.

[microcosmia]

Do you ever look at your pet, sitting next to you or on you or near you and just have a liminal, infinite moment of realizing they're alive?

Like, here's this creature, this animal; she has been a fixture in my life for 16 years. She occupies an inexplicable and undefineable place in my soul.

She is alive. She is alive. She is real and present and so very alive.

Just. What an amazing thing.

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WAIT WAIT WAIT you're telling me other people have done this too????????

Have some Suo-memes that I concocted while I was on twt 🥲🫶🏻

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Saw an op-ed that was on the surface a complaint about kids not wanting to take on family heirlooms but read like an elegy to dying traditions. The hardest part was the anxiety without recognizing that they didn’t pave the way for the decisions they assumed their kids would make.

(This is written entirely within the dominant white/western culture - about traditions that have neglectful stewardship rather than those actively suppressed)

The anxiety makes sense. You’re seeing, too late to do anything about it, that there’s no foundation - no space - for the traditions you expected to pass on. Your kids _can’t_ take your mom’s fine china. So now instead of enjoying what you have you worry about its future.

I see a pattern in these op-eds though - a pattern in what’s left unsaid. There were responsibilities tied to these traditions. You collectively assumed they _would_ be passed along. So collectively, what did you do to ensure those traditions _could_ be passed along?

Op-eds never speak for everyone, but it’s worth acknowledging the pattern in what speech is deemed worth sharing widely.  And in this particular pattern, there’s an answer: that answer looks like “nothing.”

You want the china passed down but your kids have no room in their rentals. You want grandkids but your kids don’t have the financial stability. You want that cross-country RV neverending road trip but you’ve had decades of wanting lower taxes more than you wanted infrastructure.

The bleak outlook for traditions is a direct result of the unmaintained foundations for them. The second best time is always now - if it’s important enough to op-ed about, what are you willing to change to get it back? What will you give up or re-prioritize?

I kinda think that world-defining assumptions are always gonna break without maintenance. So rather than getting mad at whoever’s next for not carrying on the norms we didn’t do upkeep on, when it’s my turn, I hope I’m introspective enough to help instead of externalize & blame.

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Just read the new WBK chapter and it made me cry.

Ugh, just, that was so well done! Nii-sensei once again put picture to a feeling/phenomenon I think we've all dealt with at some point and often have to keep confronting. Something that I have and still struggle with, in particular.

"Anger isn't a productive emotion, don't dwell in it."

"If someone apologizes, you have to accept it."

"Whenever you want to be forgiven, you best forgive all those who wronged you."

The inherent unfairness of all those comments, the dissonance, how they've made the words "I'm sorry" entirely without substance...Sometimes, we need to allow ourselves to feel the full extent of our anger. Sometimes, we need to dwell in it to understand it. Brushing it aside only allows it to ferment and come out even more sour.

Apologies don't need to be accepted. Forgiveness of a wrongdoing should not be a forgone conclusion; some things are just unforgiveable, and sometimes that lack of forgiveness shows more growth than rote acceptance. Having not forgiven others of harm does not make you unforgivable of yours.

I'll say it again: You are not required to forgive someone. You do not have to accept empty or heartfelt apologies, regardless of explanation. Not everything needs to be "OK." Be angry, sit with your anger until you're comfortable with it, and listen to what it tells you. Forgiveness is a privilege, a request, not a right or forgone conclusion.

You are allowed to take up space. You are, even, encouraged to.

[microcosmia]

New Suo theory that is maybe unhinged buuuuut here we go! It's long, btw, I pared it down so much and it is still so long. Sorry.

This builds a lot off of Suo's own unhinged dream, the "emancipation of slaves," his choice in attire, the supposition that the "other language" Suo speaks is Chinese, and his ambiguous master's ambiguous martial arts style that a lot of people have said looks mostly like Tai Chi.

So I present: Suo's Tragic Backstory, Escape from Indentured Servitude and the Eventual Emancipation of Slaves

TW: unsafe work environments, death, explosions, violence against minors, indentured servitude, trauma, anger management, disassociation, worker exploitation

Hayato and his family are low-middle class living in China. One day when Hayato is maybe 5 or 6, his father dies in an accident. His mother, Yan, raised traditionally and under only the mandatory minimum of education, finds herself in a role she is entirely unprepared for. She goes looking for work but her lack of experience, connections, or marketable skills makes finding a job near impossible.

Her desperation makes her exploitable. She winds up in a sweatshop with Hayato. They're there for two years, living and working in terrible conditions with other women and children coming and going. Hayato learns to watch, observe, anticipate. Yan is his rock, steady and constant, unshakeable in her conviction that one day they'll leave.

They're in the shop for two years before they bring in a new girl, Fenghua, who is not desperate enough to have found her own way to the shop. She talks back, fights back, takes breaks, makes problems. Everyone can tell change is in the air, and it's simmering.

Fenghua convinces Yan to start using her observations and understandings to make a plan to escape. They try to convince the other women, but most of them have been there longer than Yan, and they are all the more dispirited for it.

Before they can implement the escape plan, Hayato makes a mistake. He's taken to the middle of the floor to be made an example out of, beaten, and Yan steps forward to try and negotiate. Yan is hit several times, wood clubs and staves, while the guards laugh.

Then the fire breaks out. The sawdust kept for cleaning up spills has reached it's flash point, the tension not being the only simmering thing. The record midsummer heat and humidity have taken their toll.

There's an explosion. Chaos. Hayato was thrown off his feet by the explosion and is kept there as people literally run over him to the exit. He's clipped in the head, a blinding pain.

Yan gathers him up, along with Fenghua, and pushes them toward a shattered out window. Once they're out, Yan hesitates. There are others still in the building, women and children who have gotten caught by debris. She goes back.

A second explosion. The building collapses. Yan does not emerge from the wreckage.

Fenghua takes off, dragging Hayato with her. In the chaos, she managed to get into the locked office on the second floor; she called the authorities and her master. She knows where they are, and her master is going to meet them in a specific park on the other side of the city. They'll go to a doctor. They'll take care of Hayato. They'll figure it out.

Fenghua's master is right where he said he'd be. He catches Fenghua up in a hug and pulls a shell shocked Hayato into it, too.

Hayato doesn't remember much of the rest. He goes to the doctor. Gets an eye patch. Is told he may be blind in one eye. He meets Ruilin's, Fenghua's master's, other disciples. Most of them are disadvantaged youths, orphans. Ruilin is as much a guardian as a teacher.

Hayato struggles to adjust to life outside of the sweatshop, which still isn't necessarily a normal life. He struggles with eating, hoarding food snapping when people waste anything. He cannot shop for clothes, too triggered by the smells and feels of the fabrics. He needs to know where the clothes came from, if they're from shops like the ones that killed his mother. Ruilin takes to buying sustainably sourced clothes, then bolts of fabric to make Hayato's clothes in house. He shows Hayato where things came from, lets him read the literature and then explains it when Hayato can't parse it. He's terribly behind in his studies.

When Hayato's outbursts get unsustainable and show instability beyond his initial trauma, Ruilin starts training him. Hayato learns to clean up the rubble of his heart through meditation, reflection, and intentional movement. He learns how to fight - then learns about when it's necessary. He learns how to move in a body that feels alien to him, his right eye only seeing artifacts of his injury at the peripherals.

He learns that he's angry as a default state. That his resentment is corrosive, his hatred a vapor waiting for a spark. He learns to fight against it, then through it, then with it. He never masters letting it go.

A year and a half later, and Ruilin has been found on the wrong side of the law too many times - he has no government appointed status to be taking in orphans, no accreditations to be teaching them his mish-mash martial arts. Ruilin tells them all that they're leaving China. He starts speaking solely in Japanese, tells them all to pick new Japanese names. Tells them he'll get paperwork sorted for them as soon as their names are picked out.

Hayato picks his name then. He keeps his last name, Suo, with Ruilin's allowance - it is common enough that it won't raise too many eyes in Japan. He allows his parents' chosen name, Feiyang, to fall off his shoulders. He cannot be his mother's A'Yang anymore, but he can still keep her close in other ways.

Hayato leaves China with his master, journeying to Japan. There, he helps train the other kids they pick up, catches up on his studies, goes to middle school, and finds a particular interest in chemistry while trying to better understand the explosion that rocked his childhood. He fights when necessary, and goes too far when he's reminded of all the small problems the infantile children around him have that makes them think the world is ending. He still struggles to eat - falling back on specific nutrient dense foods that he can prepare with fresh ingredients at home. He promises to go home, to China, eventually, and dismantle all the sweatshops he can, in every way he can, and free all the women trapped there like his mother.

He makes his own clothes, and the sourcing of his fabrics is a expense that he will forever be grateful to his master for funding and allowing (Suo still knows better than to ask where the funds are coming from).

With his only-recently caught up grades and his dispassion for improving them beyond the subjects that interest him, Suo winds up at Furin for high school. His reputation precedes him, evidently. His eye was lost in an accidently, evidently. His name is Suo Hayato, so they say. At this point, what does any of that matter?

It is, he will later reflect - Kiryuu's funding, Kakiuchi's eye for style, Sakura's stalwart support, and Nirei's beautiful, brilliant brain alongside him - the best thing that ever could have happened to him.

FOOTNOTES:

Names:

Yan 燕 meaning "swallow" as in the bird; chosen because of the play of "swallow" and then "falcon" in the name Hayato -> prey bird to a bird of prey; Suo wants to keep her close but also realize that he will never again end up caged like her

Feiyang 飞扬 meaning "flying" or "soaring"; a name for lofy ambitions and freedom; chosen to dovetail (heh) into Suo's dream as well as juxstapose his position in captivity, making himself small

Hayato 隼はや飛と meaning "flying/soaring hawk/falcon"; what's really hilarious and I didn't realize until these foot notes is that the Chinese character for "fei 飞" and the second character in Hayato's name "hi" for "fly" are actually related!!! At least as far as I can tell with my very limited understanding of characters/kanji.

Fenghua 凤华 meaning "magnificent phoenix"; it's a *very* auspicious name with a long history. "Feng 凤" is the character for phoenix and is most often associated with empresses in ancient China. It's a name meant to call on the ideas of grace, virtue, and rebirth. For the literature, she's the "rebirth" of Yan's buried desire to get free. Also in the literature, Fenghua named herself so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. She was just an orphan who want a cool and important sounding name. At 18 she's very embarrassed.

Ruilin 瑞林 meaning "auspicious forest"; I wanted something with the tree/plant theme from Furin but not, like, a specific plant. It's generally considered a male name, but I'm still on the fence on whether I was Suo's master to be male-presenting, female-presenting, or totally androgynous so. I went with something that

Spontaneous Combustion i.e. sawdust:

Very possible; sawdust has a high surface area and is often left in piles to ferment, decompose, and allow heat to build up from microorganism activity. It does happen. I grew up next door to a farm - they kept all their sawdust in a separate stone building because the farmer saw it happen when he was young on his dad's farm. This terrified me for years, btw.

Explosions!

I'm working off the assumtion that there was Formeldahyde in the sweatshop. It's a known chemical in the finishing process of textiles/fabrics to improve shrinkage and improve wrinkle resistance. It's highly flammable, even as a liquid. The vapors can form an explosive compound when exposed to ambient air - so, chemical go boom when evaporated. That's the theory. I am not a chem major. Lemme have my pseudo science (tho if you wanna explain it better please do!)

Sweatshops, indentured labor, fast fashion:

I am not well informed about this beyond, like, the Shein stuff that everyone chronically online seems to know. I did a little research, but not a ton. I understand it's a touchy subject and if I ever write this will do my best to treat it delicately. The situation I'm envisioning for this idea comes mostly from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire in 1911.

TLDR:

Suo's mom was a sweatshop indentured servant and Hayato lived with her through two years of her work. They escape the sweatshop when the poor hygiene of the workplace leads to an explosion. Suo's mom doesn't make it out of the building before it collapses. Suo goes with one of the other girls to meet her martial arts master and ends up staying with him and learning from him. When their master ends up on the wrong side of Chinese law, they escape to Japan, changing their names and their stories along the way. Such is the origin of the person known as "Suo Hayato" who was once "Suo Feiyang".

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Started writing a new Suo Backstory Theory and then my internet wigged out and it's. It's gone???

I should know better by now than to write original drafts on Tumblr mobile and yet. And yet.

Anywho! Get ready for my new Suo backstory (which is worse/more tragic than my last one, whoops) which is largely based of his out-of-pocket dream, the emancipation of slaves!

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Thank you!! I often think that yours is the Big Brain tho, your posts often give me much to think about and Expound On and are one of the reasons I'm getting into writing again.

This is blanket permission for everyone, BTW, to take my ideas and run with them. I'd love credit if you use any of my ideas, but I want them used more than I was notoriety, so go forth!

want to put suo’s master on the mountain except i cant tell if makochi is close to any mountain at all. this is so sad. 😞

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Just gotta find/make a literary equivalent to "the mountain". Remote, difficult to get to — requiring a certain persistence/mentality to get to — full of a certain kind of mystique with appropriate levels of otherworldliness.

Maybe Suo's master lives in a manor just outside of town, one of the only large properties left in an otherwise industrialized neighborhood? Maybe there are ghost stories about it, historical rumors about who owned the place and why. Rumors about who owns it now. You can't see the front of the house due to the old-aged foliage on the property - the only full-sized trees on the street. Faintly, from the gates, you can hear the steady thunk, pause, thunk of the shishi-odoshi, though some claim it isn't always so constant.

In the summer, the cicadas don't sing from the property. In the winter, the snow brings an extra layer of quiet that seems to absorb all sound near it, as if to make up for the fact that the trees lose their leaves and allow gaps to see puzzle pieces of the manor. In the fall, the foliage of the old manor is the only pop of color in the neighborhood and it draws the eye and incites the imagination of everyone around. In the spring, people swear they see eyes of ayakashi or youkai or worse peering from the top of the high walls around the property, eerie and reflective, watching.

So in terms of "placement" and "versatility", the atmosphere of the manor now can occupy a similar space to "the mountain", being immediately visible but imperceptible; mystical but still physical; present and yet otherworldly.

want to put suo’s master on the mountain except i cant tell if makochi is close to any mountain at all. this is so sad. 😞

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i was a kid asking questions like "when you say to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10 do you mean relative to what i have experienced before or what i could theoretically experience in the future because what if i say 8 and then later i get twenty billion papercuts and i realise relative to that this pain is a 1" and they would reply "just focus on what you know, you literally had your foot ran over by a ford focus" and id say "well exactly but it could have been both feet which i know would surely be worse" and it still took years to diagnose me as autistic

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I have accidentally started an argument of class warfare and the dichotomy of working class mentalities in my friend's Discord server and I have lost all control of the conversation send help.

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Current writing advice I'm seeing on TikTok and Insta is telling authors to stop using em dashes in their work because, "AI uses em dashes so people will think you've used AI."

Y'know, the AI that was trained on the stolen work of real authors?

Anyway, I will not be doing that. What I will be doing, however, is adding a note at the start of all my books that no AI was used in the creation of my work because I, the author, did not go to university for four fucking years to study English literature and linguistics only to be told I can't use proper grammar because someone might think a robot wrote it.

Fucking, insane.