#/dichotomy that isn’t even real

[girlwhoisgoingtobeok]

i used to think enjoying sports was contradictory to being a pretentious intellectual pop culture enjoyer person but honestly i just needed to grow up and admit that i actually #love sports!! it’s nice to root for something and have a feeling of community and soccer specifically was such a big part of my childhood

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 5

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Johnny recovers slowly.

-

Fifteen minutes? Simon messages you. A flare going up in the darkness, an SOS signal even if you don’t know the accuracy of the analogy. But he doesn’t hear back from you that day.  Maybe what little luck he had left that wasn’t bad luck has run out. Maybe you realized that you had no real reason to be guilty, that Soap had stepped out in front of your car on purpose. You didn’t owe them anything. 

Simon wishes he could swallow that flare back up, eat it whole, let it burn him alive, but he can’t. Johnny needs him. 

Ever since the seizure, it’s been one bad pain day after another. The seizure itself was rough on his body, but so was how hard Soap fought afterwards, dealing himself damage that he didn’t even have the processing yet to tally up. 

Like clockwork he’s requiring those little green pills, choking them down on empty stomachs. Simon even has to break out what’s left of the sublingual morphine which they hadn’t used since Johnny first came home from inpatient rehabilitation. Only then will Johnny manage to fall into fitful sleeps wracked with nightmares and phantom pains from his missing arm. He cancels all therapy that week, hoping Johnny will return to his baseline soon. Hoping for the days he used to wish away. 

It’s hell on earth. Simon lays in bed beside him, ready to wake him from another nightmare, going on three days without sleep and he wishes that he had been the one in the helicopter instead. Wishes that it had killed him, since he can’t ever wish death on Johnny. Not ever. Not even when his boy begs for it. 

His phone buzzes, and it’s you: I’m free in twenty. Still need me?

Badly. Simon can’t remember the last time he showered. All he wants is fifteen minutes to scrub himself clean and feel human again. All he says though is: Yeah.

You appear just past twenty minutes later wearing a diner uniform. It’s cute: tight pants that hug your thighs and hips, a white button-down blouse tucked in, demarcation where your name tag used to rest.

Simon opens the door and ushers you in, somber-faced, like a pallbearer at a funeral. He goes to the bedroom door and glances in to make sure Johnny is out—there should be no waking him for the next two hours, but if there is one thing Simon has learned, it’s that God Laughs. 

“He asleep?” you whisper, lingering a healthy distance away. 

“Out like a light. I just need fifteen minutes in the shower.”

“I’ll watch him,” you whisper. Then you add: “I looked it up, by the way. What a seizure looks like. Just in case.”

Simon’s stomach drops between his knees. It takes him several heartbeats to realize that he isn’t nauseous out of any fear response, but out of sheer fucking gratitude. The feeling cuts through the fog in his mind like a knife through butter, and he feels like he sees you for the first time: your hair back away from your face, your healing bruises (and the new one on your chin), the embarrassed desperation in your eyes. You’ve latched on to Johnny too, he can tell, likely by some misguided guilt from almost hitting him with your car. But it’s there. He has a feeling that if Johnny were to take a dive off the balcony, he’d be taking you with him. 

You are completely unhinged. Borderline mad, even. Exactly what Johnny needs to keep him alive. 

“Fifteen minutes,” says Simon again before slipping into the bathroom, clean clothes tucked under his arm. When he resurfaces, only 11 minutes have passed. The military taught him everything he could need to know about thorough but expeditious showers. 

You are sitting at the dining table, having chosen the seat that gives you the best vantage point of Johnny’s sleeping figure in the next room through the doorway. Simon expected to find you on your phone, scrolling away, but it is nowhere in sight. You have sat perfectly still, watching Johnny. It would almost be eerie if he didn’t appreciate it so goddamn much. 

“We need to talk about this arrangement,” you say, clasping your hands together. You’re shaking. 

“You want out.” 

“What? No!” You both glance toward the bedroom, but Johnny snores on, in the throes of morphine-fueled dreams. When you speak again, it is quieter: “I don’t mind helping, but I can only check my phone at certain times of the day.”

This is the part where Simon asks why. But the question sticks to the back of his tongue like something unsavory. A more important question: can he afford to care why beyond what it means for him and for Johnny? The bottom line is that there will be long stretches of time where you’re unavailable. He can live with that. He’s been living with it, hasn’t he? 

“I’ll only ever need you when he’s asleep. If he knew I was letting you watch over him, he’d blow his top. I mean that literally.” Simon stands. “You want tea?”

“Tea?” You blink at him like the word does not compute. “Yes, please. Thank you, I mean.” 

“Just tea, don’t get worked up over it,” he mutters, going to put the kettle on. He needs a minute to fucking think. 

This goes against everything he was ever taught. The foundation of his personality is self-reliance, and it has been since he was a boy, since he learned that he couldn’t rely on adults for anything resembling stability. Asking for help feels like tossing up the white flag, like admitting he’s in too deep and he can’t take it anymore. It feels like failing Johnny. 

But there’s construction going on inside him. Those pillars of his personality are being torn down, and in their place something more important is being formed: a shrine to the only person who’s ever loved him that wasn’t his mother. If it’s good for Johnny, Simon must do it, even if it feels strange, even if it goes against all the strategies that have kept him alive in the past. 

When he brings tea back to the table, you try to drink it right away, scalding your tongue. 

“Slow,” Simon says. He didn’t even get the chance to offer you any milk or sugar. 

Face warm as the tea, you drink slower, tongue likely numb. The silence between you grows, adds up, and he catches you more than once looking toward the digital clock inlaid on the stove, like you are nervous and counting down the moments until you can escape. Like Simon frightens you. Fifteen minutes pass and more. You drain your cup. 

“I should go,” you say at length.

“Alright.”

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Don’t thank me.”

You just nod and slip out of the apartment, quietly shutting the door behind you. Simon sits there for a long time after you’re gone, thinking over the arrangement. Thinking over you. 

You’re in trouble. He just can’t decide if he can afford to take on any more trouble right now. 

His tea has cooled by the time Johnny stirs in the other room, calling out for more pills. 

-

It does get easier. Tooth and nail they fight for every peaceful moment until they are able to string two of those moments together, and then two becomes three. Johnny is back to his old self—often angry, still pained, but with glimmers of the man Simon used to know shining beneath it all like diamonds under dirt. 

Therapy starts again, and so do Johnny’s tasks. 

The tasks aren’t therapy. They’re Johnny’s idea: each few days he picks a task that he used to be able to do before the accident and commits himself to relearning it. 

Today that tasks is unlocking the front door. He stands with his forehead against the oak, knowing Simon is somewhere on the other side, having heard him turn the deadbolt. 

The door has three locks. There is the handle which is the only one the apartment building originally supplied them with. There is the sliding lock, which Simon had installed on day two in the new apartment. It is only ever locked at night when both of them are home, and it is easy enough for Johnny to guide the wide end into the slot. Then there is the deadbolt, also installed by Simon, and easily the trickiest lock of all. Usually it requires the strength of two hands to unlock comfortably—but Soap’s down a hand and short on patience. 

“Jesus, get me in this apartment. Amen,” he mutters.

The key shakes in his hand as he guides it to the lock. It takes some fumbling, but he gets it after just a few moments. Then he must twist while pulling outward at the same time. It uses muscles in his arms that have grown weak with disuse. The key catches for a moment but then slides out of the lock uselessly. He pulled too hard; he did not twist hard enough. 

It’s a delicate balance, one he had perfected without even trying months ago when they moved in. Now it seems like a cruel and unusual punishment. If he can’t get this fucking door open, he’ll sleep out here, undeserving of his own bed. In his mind, the voice of encouragement does not sound so much like the calm soothing tones of Andy—his physical rehabilitation therapist—but instead the borderline abusive dialect of his superiors during his time in the military, the ones who had only ever cared about results and not much about the bodies getting those results. 

Footsteps come from the open elevator, and Johnny casts an irritated glance only to see that it is you. You are dressed for exercise, clingy clothes with running shoes and a baggy top thrown on over everything, drooping off of one of your shoulders. At the sight of you, Johnny remembers the lengths you went to to help him light his cigarette and his heart throbs with fondness, some of his anger evaporating like fog burnt off by the morning sun. 

“Afternoon, lass.” 

“Hi, Johnny,” you murmur, voice near a whisper as you cast a glance toward your own door. Maybe you are thinking about running from him. “Are you having trouble?” 

Johnny’s good mood dissipates. “No,” he lies. “Yes. I don’t fucking know.” 

“Can I help?”

“No,” he snaps. “I have to do this myself.”

“Where’s Simon?” 

“Inside.” 

“He’s locked you out?”

“Aye.” 

Your face changes. He knows you so little that it takes a moment for him to identify the expression for what it is: apoplectic rage. Your hands have clenched into fists at your sides, brows drawn low over your eyes as you glare a hole through the door. You reach out and take Johnny’s hand. He’s so fucking surprised that he drops the damn key. 

“Johnny,” you say. “You can tell me. Are you in trouble?”

“What sort o’ trouble?” 

“Simon. Is he good to you?” 

“Bastard eats my cereal and leaves the empty box behind, but aye, he’s good to me. Better than good. What’s all this about, hen? Simon locking me out? I only asked him to, that’s all—let’s me practice with the key, so I can open it on my own again,” says Johnny, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. 

You let go of him like you’ve been burned, face mortified. “Oh, God. I’m sorry Johnny. I misunderstood. Let me just—”

You bend down and retrieve the key, handing it to him. You can barely look him in the eye as you mumble a goodbye and rush past him into your own apartment, shutting the door solidly behind you. 

Johnny stares after you for a long moment, key held limply in his hand, mind far from the door. At last, he puts the key back into the lock. 

Twist, pull. 

[hp-hcs]

Reader (male preferably) x T.N and M.R

Where reader gets into fights a lot. Like a lot. Almost double the amount that Theo and Matt get in combined in just a week. The only reason Dumbledore lets him stay at Hogwarts is because he’s top of every class. What bugs a lot of his peers is the fact that he doesn’t try. He doesn’t study, he just gets it straight up, he barely shows up to class, he fights everyone and anything that speaks bad about the slytherin house, and he’s got the face every guys jealous of. Reader is just made to make people mad, is how he’d be described. But he’s not aggressive. He doesn’t lose his temper easy, it’s just when his house or Theo and Matt are mentioned that he loses it. It’s like a trigger going off in his brain, to protect what’s his. And Merlin does that turn them on.

NSFW (optional)

Reader loves to mark them as his. To have everyone be able to see the dark hickeys or slowly healing bite marks. To display a type of claim over the two. They’re his. And he knows exactly how to make them feel good. Make them writhe for him. Degrading Mattheo while edging Theodore, wrapping his bloodied hands around their throats while he pushes them up against the wall. Fuck and when he’s all beaten up after a fight? They can’t fucking resist him.

• smut • bloody knuckles — poly! sub! sweetie pie! theodore nott x poly! sub! brat! mattheo riddle x gn! poly! dom! reader

❕no pronouns or gender/assigned sex markers of any kind!❕

warnings: SMUT MDNI, BLOOD KINK JFC IS THERE A GODDAMN BLOOD KINK IN HERE, same with degradation holy fuck, pain(?) kink, violence, mild descriptions of gore/wounds, usage of the word ‘blood’ or ‘bloody’ approximately 12000000 times, THE BOYS ARE ROMANTICALLY & SEXUALLY INVOLVED WITH EACH OTHER, some pretty aggressive dom/sub roles for ya silly little deviants

i don’t know why i gave the boys pure opposite personalities. the dichotomy of man, i guess.

this is quite easily the filthiest fucking thing i’ve ever written, and i was too embarrassed to let my allosexual boyfie edit/help with this one so it’s real bad 😬 enjoy your asexual-written smut? ig? i did my best, anon, i’m so sorry

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Seamus Finnegan was not expecting to start off his Monday morning with a broken nose.

To be fair though, it was kind of his fault. I mean, six years of school together and the boy still decided to run his mouth without a single care in the world.

“Heard Riddle’s a slut. That true?”

Your head snapped up and a furious look crossed your face. “What?”

“Hot though,” Seamus shrugged. “‘s why y’keep ‘im ‘round, yeah?”

Your hands clenched into fists down by your sides.

“He a good fuck, at least?” Seamus asked carelessly, seemingly unaware of your brewing anger. “I bet ‘e is. Think ‘e’d put out?”

Before anyone could even blink, you had Finnegan down on the ground. His face quickly became the victim of your furious fists.

He tried to shove you off, but you just smacked his hands away and got a solid hit to the center of his face, punctuated by the sound of snapping cartilage.

Blood rushed in your ears and the crowds fell away as you focused solely on Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.

You were abruptly brought out of your bloodthirsty rage by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your torso and yanking you off of Seamus.

You spun around in anger, the question of who the fuck-? dying on your lips when you saw the concerned face of Theodore Nott, and the bright red face of Mattheo Riddle.

~~~

“Darling-”

“Shut up, it’s my love language,” you pouted.

Theo rolled his eyes fondly, leading you by your shoulders into their dorm’s bathroom. “You know we can handle ourselves, love. You’ve met both of our fathers; we’ve had much worse than some Irish pipsqueak theorizing about our sex lives.”

“Well, I thought it was hot.” Mattheo interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Our badass lover who’s willing to throw down with a Gryffindor to protect our honor? Proof that chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Well, I just don’t want other people talking about you like that,” you scowled.

“We know, love,” Theo grinned, crouching down to dig the first aid kit out from under the sink, patting your thigh in a patronizingly reassuring gesture. “Now, lemme see how bad it is.”

You huffed in faux annoyance, holding out your bloody hands in front of you and lifting your chin so he could see the state of your face.

Theo sighed and began his millionth lecture of the day as he started dabbing antiseptic ointment on the few small scrapes scattered across your face.

Mattheo was unusually quiet, adding nothing to the playful bickering between you and Theo.

You glanced over at him, only to find that he was practically enraptured, staring at your hands. His eyes followed a single bead of blood’s meandering path down your knuckles and fingers, watching as it dripped off the tip of your index finger and splattered onto the tile floor.

You could’ve sworn you saw him lick his lips.

You traded a knowing look with Theo before speaking. “Whatcha looking at, Matty?”

His cheeks flushed red and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes. “Nothing!”

You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“Oh, really?”

He gulped.

You reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him up against the wall. “A blood kink, huh? Shit, you really are a slut, love.”

Mattheo looked down, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

You gripped his chin and forced his head up to look at you. His eyes widened in surprise at the firmness of your grasp.

You pressed two blood-streaked fingers against his lips, groaning at the sight of his tongue instinctively darting out to kitten-lick them.

“Shit, Matty,” Theo whispered from behind you.

You trailed your fingers down his jaw and the side of his neck before loosely wrapping your hand around his throat.

He gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Y-Y/n-”

“You like this? Hm?” You crooned as the blood on your hand smeared onto the skin of his neck.

Mattheo nodded frantically—as much as he could with the limited range of motion.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Riddle. What a filthy fucking boy.”

(He whimpered. He fucking loved it when you called him by his last name.)

You let go of his neck, stepping back and leaving him with a pleading whine caught in his throat as you turned to your other boyfriend.

“And Theodore, my pretty little angel,” you cooed softly, running your fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek. “How’s my little lovebug doing?”

He watched you with wide eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. “Y-Y/n…”

You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, smiling softly. “Answer my question, pretty boy.”

“I-I’m doing good, love,” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as you trailed your thumb down the side of his neck and swept it across his collarbone.

You abruptly pulled your hand away, spinning on your heel and leaving the en-suite without another word.

Your boys followed you into the dorm room like lost puppies, trailing after you with confused and needy expressions.

You sat down on one of the beds, lying back against the pillows with a relaxed and unbothered expression on your face. “Teddy, over here. Matty, go sit in the chair.” You waved your hand towards the desk chair, lazily motioning for Theodore to take off his shirt and join you on the bed.

Mattheo pouted and whined. “What? But- darlin’, I’ve been-”

“A greedy bitch,” you scoff as you yanked off Theo’s trousers and boxers in one swift motion, rolling him over onto his back. “Now sit down and wait your damn turn. Don’t you dare touch yourself. You’d better keep your hands where I can fucking see them.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned back to your other lover. You ignored Mattheo’s protesting whines in favor of wrapping your fingers around Theo’s dick, appreciating the way Theo’s hips jerked up with a startled moan and his hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as you did so.

“Riddle. I changed my mind. Get the fuck over here.” You snap, narrowing your eyes at the boy wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. “Hold Teddy’s hand.”

He jumped into action, quickly clambering onto the bed next to the pair of you and scooping up one of Theo’s hands in his.

You nodded, pleased at his cooperation, and slowly started jerking Theo off.

“Pretty, isn’t he, Matty?”

You expected him to say something in agreement, or tease Theo lightly, but your question was met with silence.

You glanced over, curious as to what caught his attention. Mattheo’s eyes were laser focused on Theo’s lower half. You followed his line of sight, confused as to what he was looking at, when you realized.

The blood from your busted knuckles had smeared itself all over Theo’s cock.

“Suck Teddy off.” The demand left your lips before you could even fully think it through.

Neither boy seemed disinterested in your proposition, if the way Mattheo all but scrambled down the bed as he leapt onto your boyfriend was any indication.

Mattheo kneeled between Theo’s thighs and pinned down his hips, practically drooling at the perverse sight in front of him.

Theo moaned brokenly as he felt Mattheo’s tongue lick a long stripe up his dick before taking him fully into his mouth. You hummed appreciatively at the gorgeous view in front of you, reaching out to stroke your hand along Theo’s hip and thigh.

The dorm was quickly filled with the sweet sounds of Theodore’s little moans and sighs, and the filthy wet sounds of Mattheo’s mouth.

He drew Theo closer and closer to his release. But right as your sweetest lover’s body began to shake, you caught sight of one of your brat’s hands subtly sneaking between his legs. You growled, tightening your grip in his hair to warn him to pull off.

As soon as Mattheo pulled off of Theo’s cock, panting for air, you harshly grabbed his jaw and yanked his head up to face you.

“Greedy fucking whore,” you sneered, “I told you not to touch yourself. Apologize to Theo for being such a self-centered brat.”

“S-sorry! So-sorry! I-I’m sorry, T-Theo!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, petting his hair and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. “Good, love. Continue.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the whiplash of your sudden gentleness as he leaned back down to continue his earlier ministrations.

He quickly realized why you’d been so suddenly sweet when he felt your hand start roughly palming him through his trousers. He whined around Theo’s cock, which in turn made Theodore gasp and moan loudly.

You grinned at your boys’ reactions as you leaned down to murmur in Mattheo’s ear, “You can cum if you get Teddy off, alright sweetheart?”

Sparked with renewed interest at the incentive, Mattheo resumed sucking off Theo with vigor. Theo’s thighs shook as he babbled incoherently, a mix of “Fuck!”s, “Merlin-”s, and “Y/n!”s.

“Good boys, that’s it,” you cooed sweetly, brushing sweaty curls off of Theo’s forehead. “You’re just so close, aren’t you, my love?”

Theo sobbed pitifully and nodded. “Pl-please- Y/n- please!”

“Go ahead,” you whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

With your permission, Theo fell apart with a loud moan, his entire body shaking and spasming. You continued palming Mattheo, intent on keeping good on your promise.

“Come whenever you’re ready, Riddle,” you murmured. He had pulled off of Theo by now, and stared up at you with wide, glazed-over eyes. You wiped a smear of cum from the corner of his lips with your thumb, grinning teasingly at the pair of them as you promptly stuck it in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the digit.

With one final moan, Mattheo’s body stiffened up and broke down into shudders as he was wracked with the force of his orgasm. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto the bed, tucking his face into the hollow where Theo’s thigh met his pelvis.

You gave both of your boys a minute to collect themselves, murmuring gentle praise as you littered their faces with soft kisses. “Both so good for me, my best boys. So perfect.”

You sat in a contented quiet for a few more minutes, just caressing them gently. But once their breathings had steadied out, they startled you by sharing a look and abruptly tugging you down and rolling over on top of you.

“Your turn now, love.”

[science-lings]

okay this has been going through my mind for days and I have to get my thoughts out before I explode

Disclaimer, this is not talking about a specific artist/person and would never condone or participate in anon hate or online bullying for any reason but especially this one. 

I get why people are mad about Link being portrayed as this buff, hypermasculine, tall guy. I am too (again don’t fucking attack people over it though) and it seems like such an infuriating way to change the character just to fit into some ideal of hypermasculine attractiveness or to make a ship fall into a more hetero lense by making him a decent foot taller than whatever girl he’s being paired with. 

The world of video games and action movies and every form of media ever is extremely saturated with male characters that are swole and manly and whatever other descriptors people are trying to push onto Link that don’t fit into his actual character. There are so many characters out there that already fit this male standard and having a clearly androgynous elf guy was like a breath of fresh air. 

Link was literally designed to be a character whose lines on gender were blurred, ‘a girl with a masculine touch or a guy with a feminine touch’ so that anyone could project themselves onto him. His physical design in botw/totk was specifically made to be feminine enough to wear a certain outfit to pass as a woman (which includes a nearly mandatory cutscene where he puts on the clothes and blushes after being called pretty, like you have to be blind to think that its an experience that he doesn’t like at all) and in totk there are a bunch of outfits made for Link that are blatantly gnc, ones that are practically dresses, include nail polish and lipstick, you can even dye his hair bright and vivid colors and that’s half way to giving him new pronouns. The whole reason Linkle isn’t included in more mainline loz games was because her existence would force Link into a gender dichotomy, if there's a clearly female version of the main hero, that means the main hero has to be a man, and they would rather abandon a potential reoccurring character than make Link conform to a gender binary. 

So pardon me when it feels disingenuous and even malicious for him to be morphed into these clear masculine ideals, where he towers over any female romantic partner (even when in canon he is regularly depicted as noticeably shorter than her) or even in m/m fanworks he’s really beefed up, perhaps to make the scene feel more gay or something. 

Perhaps it’s because his more twink-y/ femboy body type is so heavily sexualized (though obviously when people are sculping abs on him it’s totally not because they’re horny about it) and that’s an issue in itself that bothers me. But it’s just so tiring to see one of the very few popular main characters who is short and feminine and androgynous be molded into just another bland muscle-headed action hero over and over and over again. 

I’m not mad at the creators for portraying him differently than how I like him portrayed, I’m mad because we really do get so few characters like him in good popular media, and to be honest, I really like him the way that he is. I love that he’s tiny and has long hair and has the option to dress any way the player likes. It seems a little distasteful to make him taller than a female love interest just because that’s how straight couples have to be, there’s just never been a real straight couple where the guy is shorter than the girl, that’s just Impossible! (/s) 

[gacha-incels]

regarding character design in gacha games- if you haven’t played many, I will show examples from some popular ones here. This is for reference regarding confusion as to why incels often play these games. This isn’t to cover everything in these games either, there are games with much more absurd designs and I’m not even going to get into the “sexy little girl” designs a lot of them have. In the future I plan to research more and intend to make a concise post regarding the incel relationship with these games. These character designs and tropes exist across societies and are enforced through many types of media - it’s not just gacha games alone perpetuating them. I think they are however hypervisual in this specific genre mostly due to the huge amounts of money being spent by players in “purchasing” them. again this is just for reference, if you already are familiar with female character gacha design feel free to skip this. I’ll put it under a cut.

gacha games are infamous for typically having extremely sexualized female characters who will usually flatter the assumed male player. Again there are some that designers and writers will dress more chaste or have them give the player shit, but by “winning” these characters they are now “yours” anyway, they are not real women and therefore can’t walk away. I believe a big part of this appeal is due to incel men wanting to control a woman designed for an audience of people like him. The hypersexualization serves both to flatter his idea of a woman’s true place (his consumption) and to create a very rigid and obvious differentiation between men and women during a time when women are fighting tooth and nail for their dignity and equal rights.

Nostalgia and rigid character design dichotomy can be seen in the extremely popular gacha game Fate/Grand Order, I believe a good piece of its success can be attributed to this. There are thousands of Japanese gacha games that take already popular anime franchises and create a money pit gacha with them, it’s been happening for over a decade now. These games usually make bank taking already popular characters and giving them hypersexualized alts and costumes. FGO is an interesting phenomenon to me because it seems like for a lot of fans, the Fate franchise’s cultural touchstone is now this actual gacha game. The game adds popular existing Fate characters of course, so you can see how different the gacha character designs are from the VN/animes:

When you can only watch them/read their stories, the characters are dressed like the above examples. When they are added to the game and you can buy and own them, they look like the bottom examples.

The (rare) depiction of darker skinned female characters in these gacha games is pretty uniform across the board- they are somehow, consistently, sexualized even more than the other female characters, they are often exoticized and sometimes have a “wild” or rebellious looking aspect incorporated. I would consider this something the intended audience expects to see, regardless of the truth, and the gacha game reflects this back to their customers, therefore enshrining this damaging stereotype to its audience. These examples don’t account for everything of course.

As to not offend the delicate male viewer, these games also typically design furry/animal characters by having the female retain the most human-like features (like a small and delicate face) while the male is allowed to actually look like the animal. When a female character has armor that conceals her sex, there is of course a version of her you can “upgrade” where she takes off her armor to reveal a very delicate girl in revealing clothing.

Typically, the consumer will see powerful, sturdy looking male designs that attempt to not alienate the straight male viewer first before adding “sexy” elements. In contrast, female characters are almost always very thin (often with exaggerated tits and ass) and her pose is chosen to show off her body first, before her power. This is an Arknights dual banner that displays this design philosophy well:

some of the biggest incel shitfits come from male designs they see as being sexualized and objectified as the typical female design. these are 3 characters Korean incels have lost their minds over:

In their world, the rigid sex dichotomy is breaking down and the hierarchal system of gender where men are on top is being threatened. they don’t feel powerful seeing lithe and skimpily dressed men, and they aren’t the hentai “femboy” fetish these guys seem ok with either. incels see these games as their playground. when designs like these are included, they see it as their job to rectify this. Lyney’s costume and demeanor is too “sexy” and “gay” for Korean incels, they mass dislike his character trailer and write hateful comments across SNS. Sinclair is shirtless and wearing a collar - Korean incels are furious he’s wearing less than the female summer character and see the collar as meaning he’s a “slave” for the female customer. This snowballs into them targeting a female artist on staff, Vellmori, and getting her fired even though it was a male artist who illustrated the cards. I’ve posted Korean incels comments on the Honkai Star Rail character- similar to Lyney, they are angry he looks “slutty” and/or “gay” since he has a boob window and detached sleeves. This is too similar to how the female characters are made “sexy” and it means women have prominent roles creating for these games, something incels of course hate. Regarding the role women should have in creating these games, a Korean incel wrote (after seeing photos that include many female staff members at Mihoyo) that they should just be there working at the cafe to serve coffee to male employees and look pretty for them.

In regards to how some of these games are marketed, we can again look to the article written by a Korean woman who was a victim of feminist ideological verification.

character designs for NIKKE and Destiny Child:

what the gameplay for NIKKE looks like:

[vampelune]

ill have peace when people realize that theres barely any romantic implications beyond waifubait with hajime & chiaki in sdr2 (hajime is even like “what is up with this girl” multiple times because she cant hold convo, love her) meanwhile there’s immediately romantic implications between hajime & nagito

hajime and chiaki’s relationship is not inherently romantic beyond it being a boy and a girl who care about each other, and people thinking that needs to be romantic. it makes more sense as an important friendship. because chiaki is important to and cares about ALL of her classmates in the same way.

but ultimately chiaki COULDN’T save hajime. not in dr3. it’s true that a vision of her manages to talk hajime out of his despair in chapter 6. but the REAL chiaki could NOT save him from himself, because she has a fundamental mismatch and doesn’t truly understand his feelings on worthlessness and lack of talent. she has a talent, she even says to him that it’s “harder” to be talented than not, and she’d prefer it. that’s completely ignoring his feelings on the matter.

while it can be argued that dr3 shows more romantic implications between them, it’s also where she’s least compatible and helpful for him. she can’t understand why he’s so upset about talent, so she can’t talk him out of his mindset and prevent him from doing the project. even if she doesn’t know that’s what her words are doing, she still fails.

i won’t say komaeda would talk him out of it, because i don’t think many people could. hajime hates himself deeply enough to become another person, it’s hard to talk anyone out of that mindset. but komaeda understands hajime in a way no one else does - because everyone else in sdr2 is talented, and doesn’t really ride or die for the whole “talented vs untalented” dichotomy, but they don’t not participate in it. 

komaeda isn’t really talented on the other hand, and he even wishes he wasn’t, and treats himself like he isn’t. because he believes he doesn’t deserve the title. just like hinata, he believes strongly in the worth of ultimates and the worthlessness in comparison of those beneath them - like himself and hinata.

komaeda’s worldview is nearly the exact same as hinata’s, just pushed a bit further and a bit more twisted. hinata’s worldview isn’t any more healthy than komaeda’s, either - a healthy worldview doesn’t lead to you lobotomizing yourself. they understand each other in a way no one else in sdr2 can because they both have this inferiority/superiority complex about talent.

that’s why the narrative revolves around them so much. their stories begin and end with each other.

chiaki is important to hajime, yes, but not in any romantic sense. they’re friends. and that’s fine. a male and a female character don’t have to be romantic to be deeply important to each other. danganronpa is not above putting an m/f ship as endgame, this is obvious with naegiri, and if that was ever the intention with hajime and chiaki they would’ve. but instead we see a literal scene where hajime leaves his memory of chiaki behind and moves on from her, as he needs to, as they all need to, carrying her memory with him but not living in the past, and as he leaves her he joins nagito instead.

and this is the FINAL shot of them. to end the series.  i think it’s pretty clear what they intended with this.

essentially, nagito and hajime complete each other. they are soulmates. end of ramble

[genderkoolaid]

1. The Revolution Is a Relationship

[…] Something that worries me about social justice communities is that we tend to conceptualize “revolution” as a product, as a place and time that we expend all of our energy and anger to create – often without regard to the toll this takes on individuals and our relationships. [...] In our – often justified – anger and disappointment at the failure of ourselves and our communities to uphold the dream of revolution, we lash out. [...] What if revolution isn’t a product, some distant promised land, but the relationships that we have right now? What if revolution is, in addition to – not instead of – direct action and community organizing, the process of rupture and repair that happens when we fuck up and hold each other accountable and forgive?

2. The Oppressor Lives Within

[…] I’ve started to believe that I can’t engage in authentic activism, I can’t create positive change without recognizing and naming my own participation in the oppressive systems that I’m trying to undo. Coming from this position, I’m forced to have compassion for the people around me who I see also participating in oppression, even as I’m also angry at them. With compassion comes understanding, and with understanding comes belief in the possibility of change. When we become capable of holding that contradiction in our hearts – when we can be angry and compassionate at the same time, at ourselves as well as others – entirely new possibilities for healing and transformation emerge.

3. Accountability Starts in the Heart

[…] I often wonder how different things would look if it were more of a cultural norm to understand accountability as a practice that comes from within the individual, instead of a consequence that must be forced onto someone externally. What if we taught each other to honor the responsibility that comes with holding ourselves accountable, rather than seeing self-accountability as a shameful admission of guilt? What if we could have real conversations with each other about harm, in good faith? In a culture of indispensability, I cannot ignore someone when they tell me I have harmed them – they are precious to me, and I have to try to understand and respond accordingly. […]

4. Perpetrator/Survivor is a False Dichotomy

There is an intense moral dynamic in social justice culture that tends to separate people into binaries of “right” and “wrong.” […] “Perpetrators” are considered evil and unforgivable, while “survivors” are good and pure, yet denied agency to define themselves. Among the many problems of this dynamic is the fact that it obscures the complex reality that many people are both survivors and perpetrators of violence (though violence, of course, exists within a wide spectrum of behaviors). Within a culture of disposability – whether it be the criminal justice system of the state or community practices of exiling people – the perpetrator/survivor dichotomy is useful because it appears to make things easier. It helps us make decisions about who to punish and who to pity.

5. Punishment Isn’t Justice

[…] It isn’t inherently wrong to want someone who hurt you to feel the same pain – to want retribution, or even revenge. But as Schulman also writes, punishment is rarely, if ever, actually an instrument of justice – it is most often an expression of power over those with less. How often do we see the vastly wealthy or politically powerful punished for the enormous harms they do to marginalized communities? How often are marginalized individuals put in prison or killed for minor (or non-existent) offenses? As long as our conception of justice is based on the violent use of power, the powerful will remain unaccountable, while the powerless are scapegoated.

6. Nuance Isn’t an Excuse for Harm

[…] [I]ndispensability means that everyone – especially those have experienced harm – are precious and require justice. In other words, we cannot allow the fact that something is complicated or scary prevent us from trying to stop it. Trapped in the perpetrator/survivor dichotomy of understanding harm, it might seem like we have only two options: to ignore harm or to punish perpetrators. But in fact, there are often other strategies available. They involve taking anyone’s – everyone’s – expressions of pain seriously enough to ask hard questions and have tough conversations. They involve dedicating time and resources to ensuring that anyone who has been harmed has the support they need to heal.

7. Healing Is Both Rage and Forgiveness

If the revolution is a relationship, then the revolution must include room for both rage and forgiveness: We have to be able to tolerate the inevitability that we will be angry at one another, will commit harm against one another. When we are harmed, we must be allowed the space to rage. We need to be able to express the depth of our hurt, our hatred of those who hurt us and those who allowed it to happen – especially when those people are the ones we love. It is up to the community to hold and contain this rage – to hear and validate and give it space, while also preventing it from creating further harm. […]

8. Community Is the Answer

[…] Perhaps the reason we tend to recreate disposability culture and trauma responses over and over is because we are all, secretly, that frightened runaway kid, constantly searching for a home, but not really believing we can find one. Maybe we don’t create communities of true interdependence – of indispensability, of forever-family – because we are terrified of what will happen if we try. But I believe, have to believe, that true community is possible for me and for all of us. The truth is, we can’t keep going on the way we have been. We need each other, need to find each other, in order to survive. And I have faith that we can.

[dingodad]

Does anyone remember that Lord English himself isn’t even composed of the original versions of the souls that make him? He’s the son of paradox clones, right? That means B2 Jack is the one who actually contains the original souls of Lord English, since he was directly possessed. English has been diluted by being a paradoxical copy, and being part cueball. His creation is not unlike that of breeding Genesis frogs. (The end frog does not chronologically branch off from the original frogs, he is a paradoxical copy of all of them combined. I’d argue that he’s almost like the inverse to a Genesis frog.) So the destiny of the original Caliborn, Equius, Lil Hal and Gamzee is to be decapitated by Dave and explode into a black hole. Caliborn brags about how he will become all powerful, but he will doesn’t get to do that. The paradox slime version of himself born in a lab is destined to become the laser skull epilepsy pharoah hulk man, not him. Not that any of this really matters or changes that much, I just noticed that it was odd. This all adds up right? I didn’t forget anything that would make this not make sense?

you are, on a technical level, completely right: at no point in the Pharaoh Hulk's* timeline was he ever literally Lil Cal. he emerges straight from Doc Scratch, who was only ever a clone of Lil Cal. but you're making a critical error by thinking of the Hulk and B2 Jack as if they're meant to be two different guys.

*I've always known this iteration of Lord English as the "Mobster Hulk" version - google seems to be telling me it's basically only my posts that use this phrasing but I'm guessing I must have picked it up on the forums.

I won't give you the long-winded explanation about Ultimate Selves and how it's the idea of a person that matters more than the specific body they inhabit because I already have about a dozen posts on the subject and I'm sure everyone's sick of hearing it by now. so I wanna focus on two specific and related reasons why "Real Lord English" and "Copy of Lord English" is a false dichotomy, based specifically in an area of Homestuck's worldbuilding that doesn't really get talked about so much:

Jack Noir's version of Lil Cal is just a copy too! Roxy banished the one containing Lord English's soul into nonexistence, so that in Caliborn's words it will "FLUTTER THROUGH THE SHADOWS FOR ETERNITY. SURFACING IN THE NIGHTMARES OF THE UNSUSPECTING." Gamzee is not a Thief of Void, he can't steal things back out of the darkness; he's simply a psychic whose chucklevoodoos can "amplify fears through dreams." The Lil Cal that emerges in Dave's dreams, is adopted by his Bro, and one day makes the journey to Jack's prison cell is just a manifestation of Dave's fear of puppets; the one that Roxy banished is still out there.

First rule of jujus, bro: "THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!" "if there ever appears to be more than one of the same, it is only a mirage of caUsality!"

cultured readers will be able to draw the line between the two phrases i've put special emphasis on. Homestuck uses the terms existing terms "voodoo" and "juju" to deliberately evoke an anthropological concept which is found around the world but is most pop-culturally associated with African and Afro-Carribean spirituality: Lil Cal is a fetish. his power comes not from the fact that he is composed of some special material (or because, as you suggest, he has some kind of unique or special genes), but from the fact that spiritual power is ascribed to him. think of a religious idol; there can be a million idols to the same one deity, but the power of each idol will be exactly the same, because each has the same spiritual significance.

put in overly-simplistic terms which aren't necessarily accurate but speak to a recurring theme in Homestuck: a juju works because of the belief that it works.

this is what Calliope and Caliborn mean when they speak of "bad juju", some kind of mystical force which Lil Cal is filled with. the "juju" isn't the object at all; it's an enchantment associated with the object. Calliope says a juju can't ever be destroyed, and yet Lil Cal is torn to shreds and repaired on multiple occasions - it's the magic, the juju, that persists. this is the only way an object with a self-perpetuating origin could possibly exist, or else the object would just keep becoming more and more worn with each loop of its timeline.

Scratch and Caliborn both say it: "Instances of [Scratch] have spawned in countless universes", just as Lil Cal will continue to infiltrate the dreams of infinite children and take Caliborn "FROM UNIVERSE. TO UNIVERSE. TO UNIVERSE." importantly, it's implied actually quite early on in the comic that you can't really "clone" a "soul", because paradox clones kind of follow similar rules to jujus; there can only be one TRUE clone, who will always travel back in time to become their own origin, and all other clones are "MALFORMED MUTANTS" with no bearing on the timeline. so the exact circumstances through which Cal arrives in each universe, be it via ectobiology or clown voodoo, don't matter: every copy is either a) inert or b) actually the same Lil Cal at a different point in its circuitous timeline.

in other words - thanks to a time loop of his own orchestration! - all versions of Lord English have to be decapitated and/or collapse into a black hole at the end of their lifespan because they all have to ultimately return to the void. you're really not that far off the mark in that there is a tragedy in the fact that Caliborn believes he will "GET STRONGER. AND OLDER. AND BIGGER. AND BUFFER!" each time he destroys a universe. the tragedy is just that he thinks turning into Mobster Hulk is the end goal when in fact by making himself immortal he has ensured there IS no end goal: he's trapped being reborn as new Lil Cals in new universes forever and ever. no matter how many brief excursions he takes out into the universe to play the villain, his essence is trapped in the void for all time.

[iridescentscarecrow]

chainsaw man chapter 156:

thinking about yoshida as a framer. he’s the one who presents this frame to denji - one between normal and abnormal, the two choices he offers. a lot of the way this attempts to lend direction to denji’s journey borrows from how part one forms its narrative with its human/devil dichotomy.

there’s a lot of nuance as to how this dichotomy is presented, and denji itself isn’t strictly a vessel for these values (this categorisation to them is rather conversed with through his mirror aki). denji’s existence as a hybrid searching for warmth and intimacy and his own dream confounds these values, this set structure. 

because while the human/devil rift is resolved as false, it’s also clearly human built. devils are ideas that are built out of human fears and imaginings. we see devils being used as tools by the public safety while simultaneously being the ones they fight against.

this carries over into part two with fandom. i’ve talked about fumiko in specific to fandom multiple times already so i have little to say here but 

fandom in part two, with the use of ideas, with its iconisation is ultimately a concentrated and transparent version of the nature of part one’s devilhood. possession of this icon and its dispossession (non participation in this idea of yourself that decontextualises you from Family - nayuta) is the dichotomy here because the human/devil of part one is turned onto denji almost forcibly.

in p1 he receives aspects of this human/devil conundrum but his connection with pochita crystallised into hybridism builds onto this and in the end resolves it with the response to nayuta. the love.

and from his conversation with yoshida, we’re given denji defying the p2 dichotomy also because of pochita, the dog dream, the nayuta to it all (this connection, the family which i’ve already mentioned in quite a few of my earlier threads)

and yoshida here is instead the vessel for these values, turned upon denji. personally a lot of his mannerisms come across as him himself understanding his role in this categorisation but the thoughts i have on him are still mere speculation. argh

i do find it very interesting here then how the dissection differs. denji in part one is killed as a human by the zombie devil and pochita stitches him back together as he is torn apart by the yakuza’s brutal violence. 

it’s quite the opposite here. pochita is the one who informs him about his body’s condition, its inability because in part this dissection is because of pochita. it’s nothing like the brutality of the yakuza, it’s cold and clinical. denji is regarded as a devil, entirely.

his body parts which were cast away into the dumpster in part one are instead kept as precious treasures by his fan.

fujimoto’s commentary on idealisation threads its way through his writing on devilhood, on religion and so much of this

is centred around the body. his writing of bodyhood when it comes to the weapon hybrids is something i’ve already written a little about, how its coming apart, its immortality is significant of its decontextualisation as conjectured with the context and the history offered by family and connection. and eating also becomes a carrier of the idea of the body (with the cannibalism in part one and even in fire punch).

denji’s story is devastating because of how it blurs between different structures and thus challenges them, is swallowed by them, is victimised by them. and this blurring is partly because of the very real underlying theme of love below all this. the love that makes pochita give life to denji, the same craving for intimacy that makes makima seek the chainsaw man and want to live together, eat together, sleep together with him,

the same love, conflicted and borne out of life under exploitation that denies and makes use of this love, which makes nayuta sacrifice herself for denji and denji struggle out of bed, having broken the rules for both the chainsaw man makima designed for him, and for nayuta.

[wakeywakeyjakey]

Obsessed with the duality of potential Batjokes dynamics. When it comes to the vulnerability and accepting feelings piece, both routes of the one who has trouble accepting it + the one who accepts it easily are so sweet.

It feels a little bit obvious that Bruce might be the one who struggles to accept it even once they’ve been established—but I like when it goes beyond just that good vs evil dichotomy. Bruce running from the love and vulnerability that Joker offers him is nuanced in that he doesn’t believe he actually deserves anything outside of his mission. His whole life, everything he’s allowed to want or desire, is capped by who Batman is and represents. Accepting love from Joker would mean that he’s more human than he wants to be, than he allows himself to be, even than he gets to experience when he’s fully Bruce Wayne. He can’t let himself do love. A big part of that is rooted in his childhood trauma and the idea that getting close to someone means you could lose them forever—which is only exacerbated by the lifestyle that Joker leads and the reality that Joker walks that line of life/death every single day (just like Bruce). It would be letting go of control, and we know he’s not exactly good at that. But also it’s because Joker sees him. All of him. He sees the most “ugly” side of Bruce that even the Batfam runs from and he embraces that side of him with open arms, with love. Letting Joker love him would mean that those parts of him are lovable too and he can’t allow himself to accept that either when it would be unleashing the side of him he keeps caged and doesn’t want to even acknowledge. Accepting Joker’s love would be finally letting go of his delusion dream of normalcy because then he’s accepting that the only person who truly sees and loves the real him is the Joker. Which makes him just as crazy as the clown.

I also really fucking love when Joker is the one who struggles to accept vulnerability and softness. So much of his experience of their relationship is based in the violence that he seeks and genuinely enjoys. Clearly the love and the flirting is so present on his end that it would almost seem obvious that he’s the one who easily accepts it. BUT there’s this nuance to it in that he can’t fully accept that those feelings are/might be returned deep down and, if they are and if Bruce wants to love him, then it means he would be opening himself up to being broken by love instead of fists, which is a type of breaking he can’t control. There’s inherent control in him accepting and goading being absolutely pummeled to a pulp. But being loved by someone who can withdraw their affections (rather than their fists) without warning is different. So once that control leaves his hands, I can see him being completely unnerved by the affection he previously doled out.

I also think he’s created this culture of love and flirting that feels so much like a joke (even when it’s genuine) that accepting that, when Bruce says it, it isn’t a joke would be a little bit life-shattering. He can’t laugh when there’s no punchline and certainly not when his co-star goes off-script. Not to mention the fact that it would mean accepting his humanity on some level. Joker has been called a monster, an aberration, a freak, his entire life and those are his core beliefs (albeit that he leans into, but they’re not good beliefs). So letting himself be loved and held and touched gently would go against everything he believes about himself and sometimes that’s just too much to bear. His game with Bruce used to affirm one of the only things he knew about himself—so once it leaves that territory and gets twisted into something that feels even more dangerous and unknown to him, I can easily see Joker being the one to run from it.

The sheer amount of potential and poetic duality that comes from Batjokes is something I don’t think I’ll ever get over. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[cavennmalore]

tagging @myfairkatiecat because it is only fair after you requested this word vomit lol

The thing about Keefe not being a good person is a little complicated. Full disclaimer, I don’t really believe in the whole good/bad person dichotomy, and definitely not for KIDS. Nevertheless, I don’t disagree with the people who say that Keefe isn’t the awesome person Sophie’s (biased) opinion makes him out to be. Not for the manipulative reasons -- which, Keefe is a teenage boy and I don't know about anyone else but that is like THE demographic for being a little messy in relationships lmao -- but for a lot of his planning. Joining the Neverseen without telling anyone what his plan was? Proposing himself as Mercadir without giving anyone a chance to refute him? Lying at the end of Legacy and showing up to the confrontation even though it was explicitly agreed he'd stay back? Basically, everything he did in Lodestar? Not great.

It's not Certified Good Guy Behavior. But that's his role. Keefe was literally designed to occupy this grey, questionable space, both in the narrative and outside of it. He's Sophie's character foil. Lady Gisela's plan revolves around pushing Keefe to become a worse and worse person; that involves raising him in a way that cultivates bad behavior and forcing him into increasingly extreme situations that are designed to make Keefe "ready" when the time comes. That is a huge part of the plots of Nightfall and Legacy.

Admittedly, I don't think Shannon has made him evil/grey enough, which I know isn't a popular take. There was real potential to make Keefe a wild card in Lodestar and make it so that the question isn't what stupid scheme is he planning? but to what extent have Lady Gisela's machinations worked? It's an interesting plotline to me. It's why I'm so excited for Unraveled; it's a chance to see this push-pull in action without Keefe's "north star" (AKA Sophie) guiding his decisions.

But a lot of people don't feel this way. A ton of the complaints I see around the book have to do with Keefe getting too much page time, the plotline taking up too much space in the story, etc. Which is fair! If you don't like Keefe, I'm sure a lot of this is grueling. However, a point I see connected to this line of thought is a wish for the books to return to a more ensemble vibe. That there should be more Dex, more Biana, more Stina, more Tam, etc. the way that it used to be.

That version of the books, though? It only really exists in the first book. Keefe is a prominent character in Exile and a huge driver of its plot. It's only in Book One where he only exists on the margins and isn't super involved. The ensemble cast has grown exponentially since then, to the point where there are frankly too many characters to keep track of in a scene without straight-up listing them all (which did happen but I'm forgetting which book). The decreased page time of supporting characters isn't solely because Keefe is eating the narrative, but because there are way too many characters for everyone to get a subplot; rather than have pre-existing characters solve issues, Shannon tends to just pull new ones in, and then leave them to hang out for the following books. If the series was for a more adult audience, I would say that it was time to start killing people off (like the popular critique of The Boys) but because this is a kids series, they're going to just hang around and not do much.

A lot of the nostalgia for this old version of KOTLC presents itself in fandom discussions of Dex. Full transparency: I didn't really like Dex that much in the early books when I did my reread. I found him unbearably rude to Fitz and Biana. His crush on Sophie felt invasive at times as if she was catering to a boy that was projecting his feelings and making her accommodate him. It's very similar stuff to the current criticism of Keefe! But I have yet to see any discussions around Dex that don't characterize him as kind, goofy, or sweet. Maybe there is some discussion of him being snarky or sarcastic. The most criticism I've seen of him is about how he treated Stina in his introduction, which was taken largely in isolation.

But that sweet, goofy version of Dex that people talk about missing? He doesn't exist. Sure, Dex mellowed out a ton in the later books, but he didn't become a whole new character. And I don't believe that he disappeared from the books in the way that some people claim. He just... doesn't have a subplot anymore. His crush on Sophie was resolved. It was a sticking point in his and Sophie's friendship which made him part of her character arc, and that arc is done. If that went on for any longer, it would be a drag on the pace of the series. Like I said before, the presence of so many side characters, each with their own needs and motivations, makes it difficult to introduce him into new stuff. It's why he gets so much more page time in Unlocked. With the presence of so many other characters, Shannon tends to handwave a lot of the background group dynamics. Dex ended up becoming close to Keefe and was able to shine there, away from Sophie's perspective and their finished arc.

All of this is to say, it's not wrong to dislike Keefe or like Dex. But I think a lot of the conversations surrounding these guys can get muddled in nostalgia and what people think the books should be rather than what they are. I'm (severely) guilty of it too. It's part of a broader trend in fandoms as "fandom" as a concept becomes more popular. That is a whole other post, though, and frankly, this one is long enough lol

[polyamzeal]

X-Men '97, Episode 5 - Writing Mature Jealousy

               I want to go over episode 5 of X-Men 97, titled Remember Me, because it has a very good portrayal of how to write jealousy well and in a mature way. Now since this a polyamory blog I know everyone is just going to assume I am going to say, “All their problems would be fixed by polyamory.” As tempting as that is I am not going to do that! Well the X-Men comics have recently touched upon actual polyamory representation I don’t think it works for this incarnation in particular but I do think by looking at it through a polyamorous lens we see some very interesting stuff going on that deeply monogamous folk might miss. So I want to take this opportunity as a lesson we can all learn from about how to write portray jealousy as a more nuaniced and interesting complex emotion rather than a one-note toxic trope we often see it reduced to. Obviously spoilers below the cut.

               So going to assume you have seen episodes 1-4 up until this point so not going to spend long on setups but quick setup. Rouge and Gambit have have had an unofficial relationship that everybody knows about for some time now. But as Rogue’s old flame Magneto enters the scene she has been tempted by him. Meanwhile, Cyclops just found out that the mother of his child is actually a clone of the woman he loved instead of actually her and doesn’t know when the swap happened. Plus the original and clone share memories to make it even more complicated. Now that the clone, Madelyne Pryor, has left, Cyclops is unsure how to feel about the real Jean Grey.

                I thought I would be starting further along in the episode but let’s talk about Gambit’s arrival in Genosha. Right away we get Magneto subtlety exerting superiority over Gambit yet Gambit stays cool and doesn’t show that it bothers him. He makes a comment about two being better than three though to show that he doesn’t like Magneto interfering in his relationship. But the character drama really begins when Nightcrawler talks to Gambit. He urges Gambit to marry Rouge but Gambit replies about how he knows that Rogue wants somebody other than him and he basically says that he doesn’t deserve love. You see, Gambit has done a lot of shady stuff in his past and while he may act cool deep down he feels like Rogue deserves someone better than him. So we have a dichotomy between Gmabit’s brain that approves of Rogue hooking up with another man and his heart who does still want her all to himself as selfish as that is. This internal struggle makes up the entire character arc for Gambit this episode.

               But let us move on the first of many big shockers of the episode! Jean Grey kissing Wolverine! As Jean is reminiscing about what to do about Cyclops and how they have been distant, Wolverine tries to give her advice as a friend. But he also slips up and lets out some of his own romantic feelings for her. Unexpectedly she returns them with a kiss! I get the vibe that a lot of fans might have cheered in celebration, “Wolverine is going to get the girl like he should unlike that jerk, Cyclops!” But as Wolverine just reminded us, he is far more mature than that. In an act of true selflessness, he instead forgives her for her cheating and tells her to instead go patch things up with Cyclops. He made it clear that he loves her but also he has been down this road before and knows that he isn’t the best man for her and if he really cares about her then she needs to be with the right man for her, Cyclops. This is actually very similar to the dichotomy Gambit suffers but with a 100 more years of experience and maturity, he commits to his brain over his heart and without the same hesitation.

               We get a quick cut back to Rogue and Magneto who gives this great line, “As with Gambit, loving you makes broken men whole." But let us have them on pause for just a little bit longer.

               Instead let us focus on Cyclops having a touching intimate moment with who we think is Jean but instead it is the clone, Madelyne, having a psychic affair with him from half-way across the world. Not related to the topic of this article but a nice little extra detail is that Emma Frost, another telepath, totally 'saw' everything that Madelyne was doing. But back to the affair, Jean interrupts them and a drama-bomb explodes! Cyclops admits that he loves both Jean Grey and Madelyne Pryor but again I am not resorting to “non-monogamy is the answer here.” Afterall a psychic-powered clone is involved here, more than just a twin, so not exactly normal real life situration. But it does bring up hard questions of how to choose just one. Again Cyclops’s brain is probably telling him the one he loves is Jean Grey, that seems like the right answer. But his heart loves his son and therefor loves the one who he knows is the actual mother, Madelyne. As such we have the 3rd brain-heart romance dichotomy of the episode except this one has the most uncertainty and confusion involved. On the other side with Jean, we get into the philosophical question of having memories of loving someone versus feeling love for someone. It is deep! The Phoenix urging Jean to travel the cosmos might also seem unrelatable to real-life but I think you can equate it to someone that has a job opportunity to travel and make more money but they would need to leave behind their lover, something lots of people do struggle with.

One last thing I want to address is again I am sure some fans are extra mad at Jean in this scene. She just cheated on Cyclops and now she is mad at Cyclops for cheating on her. This level of hypocrisy might rub me people extra rough. But I want to ask this question, would she have been more or less mad at Cyclops’s cheating if she did not just cheat herself first? I think either has its arguments but I honestly think less. She knows she cheated and messed up so now she is putting in effort to mend and fix that. Just to see that Cyclops is also cheating but not repenting like she did. This anger she is taking out on him for cheating is amplified by her own guilt and shame for having just cheated as well. Maybe even more fueled by being rejected by Wolverine as well. It is spicey but also very realistic.

               Back to Rogue and Gambit. How is Gambit going to find about Rogue’s relationship with Magneto? In what way will he discover them in the act and cause drama? Actually, she comes right out and confesses to him. I love them avoiding that trope and instead giving us a brutally honest heart-wrenching confession scene instead. And again, Gambit does not react like a 13-year child, instead he calmly asks if she is going to accept it. Explains how he has respected her wishes to not be official but this still hurts. Rogue unloads her heart upon him explaining her unmet needs, the physical incompatibility they have together. And we are given the very realistic question of physical needs versus non-physical needs. Are physical needs a deal-breaker in a relationship? The scene concludes with Gambit being as smooth as always by saying he bets Magneto will break her heart but until then he will respect just being friends with her and givers her permission to pursue Magneto. He maturely wants what is best for her even though it hurts him.

               As we transition to the Gala itself we see Rogue living it up in her full splendor! Magneto joins her and they make a big spectacle of the two touching which Gambit sees. This is another scene I have seen some people have very weird takes on Gambit’s emotions here. Many read anger and jealousy as I am sure many in the same shoes would feel. But I see more of the dichotomy at war again. He wants best for her and sees outright that Magneto can give her something he can’t. He even says as much to Madelyn right beforehand. He is happy for her but it still hurts and is just too much hurt for him to handle so he has to step away to protect his own feelings out of respect for Rogue.

               By the way, the animation on Rogue is beautiful here! There is so much visual storytelling going on with her feelings that shown more than told. We get the sense that she really wants this and indulges in it to the fullest. But there are still doubts in the back of her mind. Is it all for real or just a performance that she has bought into. She enjoys it and had fun but decides that she actually does want Gambit more.

               Rightful so the rest of the episode from this point on does not have much time for romantic drama. What I do really like is we get to see the Gambit-Rogue-Magneto love triangle function under an emergency. A terrorist attack happens and they all put on their work face, because this is the work that they handle. Any romantic squabbles are set aside. Magneto asks Gambit the situation without any of previous boosting over him or even hard feelings that Rogue just admitted to choosing him. And then immediately they form a plan as a team to take care of the threat like they always would. They are professionals. We do get a scene of Rogue trying to save Magneto and Gambit needing to hold her back. Then Magneto protects not just Rogue but both of them as he sacrifices himself. Again understanding that feelings can’t get involved here, they have a duty to protect people.

               Some people find the final scene extra tragic because Gambit died thinking Rogue choose Magneto over him. But I don’t think it matters. He would have sacrificed himself to save her regardless of what she choose.

               To summarize they are some many scenes in this episode where I expected characters to follow troupes and throw jealousy-fueled temper tantrums. Instead it was one of the most refreshingly mature portrayals of adult jealousy I have seen in any show. No, the answer is not “Polyamory would have fixed all of this.” But instead we get, “Toxic monogamy is not the only way to write a story.” It makes the characters so much more relatable and enjoyable to watch just to see them not drown in toxic monogamy and petty jealousy. I hope more stories can learn from these examples.

[hazardouslesbian]

another interesting piece to the dichotomy between Clark and Lex is they both have their issues with letting people get close to them due to their own respective traumas, but it manifests in different, almost opposite ways, which imo ends up being their downfall

Lex obviously has this air of “I’m a Luthor, I’m secretive, I won’t let anyone close to me” that he’s developed from a combination of lionel’s fucked up parenting, and a life of keeping secrets to protect the people he cares about, but actually looking at his actions the idea that he’s secretive and closed off or whatever starts to feel like a facade. In practice (especially with Clark) Lex is so desperate for connection that he lets his walls down almost every chance he gets. Like if I recall correctly in the show he really doesn’t shy away from talking about his childhood trauma whenever Clark asks. Plus Lex is pretty honest throughout the show, especially to Clark. There’s several moments from the start where other characters THINK Lex is lying, but in the beginning it’s almost always Lex being scapegoated.

And I think the idea that he’s a closed off person that’s hard to reach isn’t just something he tries to present to the world, I think it’s also a lie lex tells himself to convince himself he has any sense of power over who he chooses to let in, because in a community where he IS constantly the scapegoat choosing to let people in and connect to them opens him up too way too much opportunity for disappointment and heart break, so he has to convince himself he’s able to stay disconnected and keep people at arm’s length, but in reality I really don’t think he’s that capable of keeping people out? Like if someone genuinely wants to connect with him I don’t think he has the power to stop himself from letting that happen at LEAST in the early seasons of the show

Clark on the other hand feels like the kind of guy who should be an open book, and in a lot of ways he is! he’s earnest and kind and can make friends with just about anybody, including the widely distrusted Lex Luthor, but he’s got a secret that he’s been told his whole life he has to guard at all costs for the sake of his survival. And his fears of ending up on a lab table tortured and experimented on are reasonable so you can’t really fault him for being dishonest with everyone. But Clark clearly doesn’t want to be this secretive aloof guy, he’s lonely and displaced, the sole survivor of a world he never knew. He’s similarly desperate to be this trustworthy, friendly guy, with deep relationships with the people in his life. So he tries to compromise and instead lets people in just enough for it to feel devastating when they put together that he’s undeniably lying to them.

It nearly ruins every one of Clark’s relationships at some point in the show, but ultimately his other relationships survive it, his relationship with Lex can’t

the real reason they’re “doomed by the narrative” is Lex is so desperate to connect with Clark, and Clark is incapable of ever fully letting that happen, even though he wanted to!! and in the same way Lex tries to be okay with their “incomplete” relationship because he wants to be understanding and doesn’t want to ruin his relationship with Clark but in the end he can’t do it either!!

[thagomizersshow]

Content warning: blood, gore, sexual content, sexual assault, parasites and body horror

This is a heavily modified version of an essay I originally wrote for a literary theory class and then turned into a script for a video essay that I never finished. 

Enjoy :)

One of the things that really bothers me about the critical conversation around Alien (1979) is the long-running idea that the alien and its various forms are so enduringly horrifying because they break the sexual/gender binary.

The worst example I can find is this excerpt, from Alien Woman: The Making of Lt. Ripley, by Ximena Gallardo and C. & C. Jason Smith:

The Alien species disregards the sexual difference that is so essential to our definition of what it is to be human. The male body is repositioned to correspond to the female body: the male mouth becomes the vagina, the chest the womb. The dichotomy male/female is broken down, as all humanity is female (a womb) in the face of the alien.

I get that this was published in 2004, but Gender Trouble had already been around for over a decade, so that’s not much of an excuse for weird ass gender essentialism in academia.

Art by AlexanDraxleean ↑

The idea that the xenomorph and its various stages are scary because the gender binary is being broken down is comically disregarded by the simple fact that trans people (like myself) ALSO find the damn thing scary. We are living embodiments of a shattered binary, but we aren’t shitting ourselves over our own existence (usually). I contend that the alien is scary not because of a violation of gender or sexual norms, but because it utilizes a much more widespread and visceral kind of horror: that of the parasite.

Most other animalistic horror monsters rely on the fear of the predator: monster wanna eat you → you run away → get caught → get eated. This is an oversimplification, obviously, and if you want a really good exploration of how the fear of predators effects us, read Val Plumwood’s Eye of the Crocodile. For real, my fav ecophilosophy book.

No, instead of the more straightforward horror presented by the predator, the alien uses the inescapable, cloying, and violating horror of parasites and parasitoids. Where the predator hunts, kills and eats, the parasite clings, defiles and tortures. When the predator catches you, you’re dead. When the parasite catches you, you don’t know what is going to happen. Is it going to bury inside you? Is it going to feed on your body? Is it going to lay eggs in you? You literally don’t know, and that’s what makes them so scary. Hell, they could get inside you without you even knowing. It isn’t just the fear of death, it’s the paranoia of violation AND the fear of the unknown. This makes Alien akin to a Lovecraftian horror in many ways, but instead of the fear of race-mixing or disabled people, it is the fear that whatever you do, wherever you go, there are beings that can enter your body and use it against your will.

Hell, the whole premise of the movie, at least according to the screenwriter, came from the thought “what if ichneumon wasps laid eggs in us instead of in worms?” That basic idea is glossed over constantly in analysis of Alien in favour of more Freudian explanations that rely heavily on antiquated notions of gender essentialism. When early screening audiences were throwing up in their seats in 1979, were they thinking about how “this monster really transgresses gender norms :/” or were they thinking “fuck what if that thing was growing inside me?!?!”

The only time I agree with these old school interpretations is when they view Alien through the lens of sexual assault. The fear of sexual assault and the fear of parasites are fucked up sisters in a way. They are both fears of bodily violation that induce a strong paranoia, and their symbologies easily feed off one another. Sexual imagery (e.g. a penis shaped head with a mouth on the end) combined with parasitic imagery (e.g. a creature grabbing a hold of you and doing unknown things to your body) are both niggling at the part of your brain that is repulsed by internal invasion.

However, I’ve seen arguments that Alien specifically targets fears for cis men being sexually assaulted, and I think that’s a very limited approach to the movie. The idea of a creature latching onto you, ignoring your autonomy, and using you as an incubator is pretty universally scary if you ask me, and I think for most people, that idea connects to a primal and often unaddressed fear of parasites far more than sexual violation. Just look at videos of botfly maggot removals and tell me you don’t get the same yucky feeling as when you watch Alien.

Even for people like me who find these creatures fascinating, I still get that skin crawly feeling when I look at images of them for too long. And it isn’t just a short-lived disgust reaction happening, it’s also that feeling of paranoia that it could be happening to you right this minute. This is all a part of what is called the behavioural immune system, which is the brain’s first line of defense against infection and why most people are grossed out by signs of disease on the body (pus, rashes, body odours, etc.).

We really don’t like thinking about parasites, and it shows across our culture. Deadly predators of all kinds have been worshiped all over the world, but is there anyone in history who paid fealty to the tick? Who invoked the name of the roundworm for strength? Are there cartoons about anthropomorphic scabies and their kingdom of flesh? (If any of these exist and I just don’t know it, please tell me.)

I’m not saying that this is an innate feeling in all of us (the human experience is about as diverse as it gets, and I’m sure some people just don’t have this reaction and never have) but I do think it’s widespread enough and so infrequently felt that when this parasite repulsion is triggered it makes for a horror that is far harder to shake than any socialized fear of gender violation. Far more than any Freudian psychosexual imagery, the horror of the parasite is what I believe has made the xenomorph such an enduring cinematic monster.

I wanna leave this post off with one of my favourite quotes about parasites from Annie Dilliard’s book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:

It is the thorn in the flesh of the world, another sign, if any be needed, that the world is actual and fringed, pierced here and there, and through and through, with the toothed conditions of time and the mysterious, coiled spring of death.

[raayllum]

[...] I tend to err away from this dichotomy of villain-hero and subsequent selfless-selfishness in general. The hero “saving a loved one vs the the world” is an age old conflict and also an inherently fantastical scenario, as it’s a literal trolley problem on a level no real life person will ever experience (there can certainly be similar things in IRL war when a lot of hard, otherwise unfathomable choices have to be made). And, traditionally, most villains cover up their schemes with notions of doing things for the Greater Good (hi Viren!) even if their actions are also things that are conveniently benefitting themselves. And typically, the hero is the Hero precisely because they understand that recognizing the personhood of the individual and that it’s important to always value the individual (of which the many are made of) is a crucial cornerstone of well, valuing life at all. However, because this is TDP, even this dichotomy isn’t Simple or clear cut.

—TDP's Perpetual Trolley Problem, July 09 2023

[ornii]

Hi again, first thank u for the response, second my arcane request/idea was male reader x Jinx where the male reader is a new rising hero in Zaun and even tho they are on opposite sides, he’s so into her and thinks she could do some real good and wants to help her. I know these are really loose details but I thought I’d leave it not to specific cause I’m curious (if you choose to use this) what u would make with this loose premise. Anyway thanks for ur time and have a nice day 😁

You Do Have a Heart Part 1

Note: Sorry i still don’t know how Tags work so, I apologize if you wanted to be tagged in my work and I don’t know how to do it lol, anyway. Here’s part 1

Stark, that last name spoke volumes though Piltover. The family had a single child, born with an intellect beyond the average human, with the endless amount of money on disposal, made a volatile combination.

“Master Stark…”

A Voice called out from the back door of his large room. It was messy, full of schematics of inventions riddled all over the ground. Rough sketches, drafts. A few gizmos left and right. The young genius was in his room, working on a device as he yells.

“It’s open.” The Youth said, and an elderly man enters, a servant for the family. He approached and gave a small bow.

“Master Stark, how are you this fine morning?” He asked, he turns to face the old man in his chair; showing the device he’s working on.

“I’m fine Jarvis.” He says and gleams. “Working on device to hold electric charges and expel them into explosions.” (Y/n) said, “It’ll be nice to Add something to the Stark Foundation..” he turns back to continue working, but Jarvis closes in.

“Sir, do you know what today is?” He asked.

“No, should I?” He replies and Jarvis nods.

“It’s Lady Kiramman’s Birthday..” He says with a soft huff. (Y/n) halted in his steps and cursed to himself, the fifteen year old stood up and turned to Jarvis.

“You’re a Life saver! I totally forgot! I’ll be back, I have to get something planned.” (Y/n) rose and rushes out of his room, the old man sadly smiled to himself as the young hero rushed down a flight of stairs to a main foyer, a beautiful lavish home all to, mostly himself. Rushing to the door he opens it and steps out, he spots the two guards on watch for his home, nearing the heart of Piltover, he wishes to keep it pristine and perfect. He snaps his fingers, they turn and face the young prodigy.

“You two, I’m heading out.” He puts his coat on and walks from his porch to the path, and the guards follow.

A gift for Caitlyn Kiramman. It was much harder than you expected, You and Caitlyn grew up together, merely by circumstance. Her Amazing mother and yours, Maria, we’re close friends who worked on the council together. The Stark Family and Kiramman Family were Allies due to Howard’s weaponry foundation funding the Piltovers army. It was by this chance you and Caitlyn became friends. Using your genius intelligence, you excelled in your scholarly studies with Caitlyn, her hunting and marksmanship skills effortlessly surpassed yours, it made a perfect dichotomy between you two. Unfortunately, that dichotomy was viewed by others as a romantic affection.

Approaching the Kiramman gates, you halted as the Guards follow suit. As you approached the door, you knocked gingerly. And a man opens the door, her father Tobias.

“Good afternoon Mr Kiramman. Is Caitlyn?…” he asks and Drones on, Tobias was a fit middle aged man, with dark blue hair and streaks of grey at the edges. “Ah. Sir Stark, Yes she’s here, I’ll fetch her.” He says and walks back, you await as you mentally compact everything.

“All things considered this is going well, she isn’t suspicious that I totally forgot about her birthday, and that I didn’t even send a letter. I have to consider a gift, actually.. why not everything?” You think to yourself. Your ear peeled up to the sound of walking and you quickly turned to the direction of the door, and you saw a faintly pale hand touch it and open, she steps to the porch, and Caitlyn stood there. Her long blue hair and piercing eyes.

“Cait!” He Said, The Girl approaches and (Y/n) gave her a hug.

“It’s good to see you well.” She says to you, you slyly grin and show off your expensive clothing.

“Nothing money can’t solve, speaking of money, come, it’s time to celebrate a certain girls birthday!” You say, and Cait sighs.

“You want to? You don’t have to.” She said, you took faux offense to it.

“Caitlyn, as your only friend—“

“Backhanded comments, as per usual.”

“As your only friend, it’s my obligation to make sure your birthdays are the absolute top quality, settle for nothing less.” You say. You walk off, Caitlyn couldn’t hide her small grin and follows. Walking though the city and enjoying the Shopping, treats, The enjoyable parts of Piltover was important for you, being the only child to an almighty fortune had refined your tastes. The guards carry the boxes of gifts for Caitlyn as you two walked forward, enjoying the cool winds of a soft autumn.

“Something is Bothering you.” You say to her, Caitlyn was not one to mince words, but was a bit uncomfortable about what she seems to be thinking about.

“It’s nothing.” She replies, and you turn your head towards her.

“You’re a fantastic Liar Caitlyn, but seriously.. what’s wrong?” You ask again, and Caitlyn informs you of a, less than suitable situation for you.

“I’ve decided to help Jayce with his research.” She utters, you almost wish to knock the webs out of your ears, but you knew you heard her correctly. Jayce Talis, the one sponsored by her family and a less than reputable man.

“Him? The one your family is sponsoring with his “inventions?” Which is just ridiculous to call them, what should be called inventions should be able to change the world! Nothing he has done proves that. Plus he’s kind of a jerk.” You explain, but Caitlyn sticks up for him.

“His work is important, I know it’ll be something amazing.” She said, with a hint of enthusiasm that you haven’t seen in her for a while.

“Well.. that’s unfortunate.” You say, “Ive been developing new technologies for Piltover and the armies. I wanted you to be there.” You say, biting your tongue before you say something to totally ruin the moment. Caitlyn looked a bit surprised by this response.

“You rarely let anyone help you..”

“You’re different.. you’ve always been different.” You reply sourly. After returning Caitlyn back to her family, you headed home, fuming. Aggressively opening the door you storm inside the workshop, looking at your creations, what you’ve built, how you’ve developed so much, and yet she went with Jayce? Your anger slowly simmers down and you sit down at the desk.

“Something has to change… I, I have to change..”

It was Nearing Six Years later after that interaction, perhaps you matured and let it all go, but though those sex years you devoted yourself to your work, to creating a new found weapon. The greatest creation in history. Of course you’ve kept it under wraps for the Three years of its production.

Music plays though the workshop as hot plasma burns into a new plate of steel, (Y/n), now in his early twenties removes his mask and scuffs off the dirt on his face. He prepares for the final run though. Flipping a few switches and turning knobs, steam emits from a shrouded invention, and a whir echoes from it, signaling his success. And coincidentally enough, today was Progress Day!

“Jayce Talis, eat your heart out.” you say. “Hextech, what a joke.” You confidently stood up to exit the workshop and head downstairs past Jarvis.

“Jarvis, please send the guards to prepare for Progress day, I have something to show.” He says, and heads out.

Sitting in the Enforcers office, Marcus sat at his desk, with oldies enforcers, Caitlyn included.

“So, you’ve already paid for a spot, we can have officers at the tent to avoid any issue. Your Project. Should we know anything about it?”

“Sorry, best kept secret, but I will need an officer to assist me in keeping the public away from it…” he says, and his eyes trail off to Caitlyn. She looks a bit shocked but quickly pieces together what he’s saying.

“You can’t he serious—“

“Kiramman, you’re on watch Duty for Stark Industrial. Keep the peace.” He said and she wants to groan, but reluctantly agrees.

“Miss Kiramman.” You say with a smug bow and she walks past, “this way.. Sir.” She says though her teeth, you two walk to the tent, and she’s less than enthusiastic.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” You say, and she turns to her.

“Oh, so this was to help me? How?” She said.

“Do you think your parents would have let you go anywhere? You would have stayed in Jayce’s tent.” You repeat, and Caitlyn thinks, and sighs.

“I hate it when you’re right…”

“Don’t worry, what I have built will amaze you, and blow Hextech out of the water.”

“Is this what it’s about? Jayce?” She says.

“Partly, and I want to show my Progress.” You give a wink and Caitlyn reaches the tent to show its fancy, a large stand to hold a crowd, a standing floor. With the hidden figure under the cloth. Across the event you can make out the Kiramman family and jayce giving the speech. (Y/n) stood on the pedestal and cracked his knuckles, he turns to Cait.

“Now, watch this.” You day, and speak a bit loudly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! The newest invention from Stark Industrial!” You say, you watch as citizens begins to gather and watch, slowly siphoning Jayce’s watchers, you smirk and step to the platform and walk around the shrouded thing.

“Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce you, to the future. To our future, the future of piltover, No, the future of the entire world! You see we as a people have evolved from primitive rocks and sticks, to bring the most advanced species in the entire world, and therefore we can only keep moving forward, and what is more forward, than this!” You snap your fingers and a few guards tear off the cloth to reveal it, a suit of armor, hooked up by tubes running form somewhere, it was mostly flaming red with accents of orange, people marvel at the device and you really begin to sell it.

“What we have here isn’t a robot, but it’s a suit of armor! A highly dense titanium suit of armor, built with interlocked systems and an array of weapons, able to withstand fire, electricity, the cold, I call it.. the Iron Man!” You Walk to the back of the suit and twist a handle near the palm of the suit, the suit slowly begins to Open and reveal the inter working compartments from gears to wires, you step up and clench the palm switch, the suit encapsulates your body, steam bellows from parts of the suit and you flex, showing the suit isn’t a stiff board, Caitlyn watches, seeing the genius of Stark at work.

“This suit is built for the upmost of situations. In fact, enforcers!” You say, two walk on stage and you turn to them. They aim their guns, a look of worry washes over Caitlyn and they open fire, the bullets hit the suit and collapse upon themselves. Showing zero damage.

“Did I mention is bulletproof?” You say sarcastically, and then show it’s weapons.

“The suit is capable of high intensity blasts of energy from the palm. All powered by a single energy stone!” You aim upward and open one palm, the suit blasts a beam of high force light into the air.

“Even missiles!” You order a few Discs to be shot into the air, using nothing but your eyes you aim and a panel opens up in the shoulder compartment of the suit, they ignite and fly out, each explosion dancing in the air.

“But most importantly ladies and gentlemen, it had one ability only the animals with wings can partake in this.”

Switching to Flight nods the suits leg panels open to reveal thrusters, the armor makes a more aerodynamic look and steam bellows from it. The Suit begins to lift off and fly around the large celebratory area. Crowds watching in amazement of the Industrial Revolution, the suit then lands again, with another switch it opens, allowing (Y/n) to step out. Dusting himself off he drinks in the amazement of the crowd.

“You see, this is our future, this is the future I wish to cultivate! Stark Industrial will push Pullover into the era of Peace, and Prosperity!” With one final rousing speech, the crowd roses in applause of your creation, your work, your greatness. The only person less enthusiastic was Jayce. The Iron Man armor stood in the middle of the room, its ammunitions being refilled.

Inside the chambers of the Stark Building, you stood before Jayce, who was not as happy as you were, the young man whose calm demeanor similar made Jayce much more perturbed.

“You couldn’t allow Progress Day to just be about progress.. could you?” He says, and toy smugly turn around.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean Jayce. My Iron Man is Progress, Progress Born from one mind.” You say, and offer a drink, Jayce calmly stood up and looked towards the window of the building out to the vast developing city.

“What you’re doing is Undermining the Hextech.”

“What I’m doing is showing my Stark Tech is just as good, even be than Hextech, don’t be upset I’m just better.”

“Better? Don’t make me laugh you’re a glorified Rich Kid.” Jayce turns to face you, much more accusingly.

“Yes because I didn’t grow up like you then my genius must be a fluke? You’re simply under your punching weight Mr Talis.” You reply in Jest, and Jayce takes the low blow.

“You see, this is why Howard wasn’t invited into the council, he valued his own ego over the importance of our future!—“

“That’s what you think?” You say, your anger boiling over. “My father didnt join your little club because he knew what the council does, halt any creativity that isn’t within what they value. I’d rather be alone than be a sellout.” You and Jayce are getting more and more hostile, until a flicker of red catches the corner of your eye, you turn to the direction, out the window you see flames blazing. Your eyes trail off and watch, seeing where it’s located.

“The Tents…” you say before rushing to the suit, jayce also watches and then turns to you.

“What are you doing?!”

“Saving Progress Day! Alert any police nearby! We have to do something!” You yell, opening the suit you step in and it powers on, activating the Rockets, you disregard anything and blast though the glass and fly off, your focus solely on Caitlyn, the humming of the machinery, the smell of steel in your nose. You land nearby and risk it all rushing into the fire, your eyes search as smoke and flames dance all around you. You scan the entire building and spot movement on the ground, rushing over your eyes catch blue hair and you immediately recognize who.

“Caitlyn!” You call out and pick the woman up, she’s unconscious, but alive. Her eyes open slowly and lock with yours.

“Don’t talk! It’ll be fine!” You reassure her and rush out of the building building, the suit taking whatever heat you would have, breaking through falling wood you safely get Caitlyn to safety, laying her down you turn to fly back in, but that was a fatal mistake, in a flash of light, it all went black.

It slowly became more clear, your vision in this horrid nightmare, your once great Suit Damaged to a heavy extent, the power on the suit was non existent, the explosion damaged the face plate, blowing half of it off. Your eye trailed over to the blue haired girl leaning over you, but it wasn’t Caitlyn it was, someone else. She hummed while she tore the crystal from your core, writing down in a small brown book, and you were too weak to stop her, she spots your eye and smiles. She looked, disturbed, definitely cute but still disturbed, like she was a power keg ready to blow.

“Oh, the Tin Mans awake… sorry, but I had to get this little thing from you.” She says, and successfully tears out the blue core, she oodles at it, there was a hint of joy in her eye.

“I gotta say, a suit like that? Pretty Badass. I would ask how you worked out the triggers for your missile launchers, but I’m a little late. See ya later, Tin Man.” The Girl stood up and walked away, you can only watch as she disappears into the smoke and darkness, most likely never to be seen again, but who knows what genius mind was behind those mad Eyes.