#(and I am my primary audience. so.)

[sentientsky]

(oh newspaper archives my beloved)

[helyeahmangocheese]

Einherjar!Leo Valdez for the @valhallavalgrace AU & askblog that I've been setting up! aka the au that nobody asked for but the moots have been graciously gobbling up. ps if anyone knows best practices for posting on tumblr without users needing to tap on an image for higher res pls let me know... I am hardly ever posting my stuff let alone posting fanart... pls be kind

[acediscowlng]

do you ever think about the absolute culture shock of edwin "book nerd" payne missing the most of modernism and post-modernism. cause i do. i think about that a lot.

just. think about edwin encountering The Waste Land for the first time and finding it very moving and reflects his own experiences very well, but also finding that very weird because like??? yes, the nihilism is great and all, he's never felt more Seen in his life, but he's also been to hell and what do you mean an entire generation of writers apparently just get what that feels like????

[youssefguedira]

luca marinelli character FIGHT: FINALE

thank you all for coming along on this ride with me i've been having a great time.

in first place, our winner is (entirely unsurprisingly):

nicolò di genova! by a not insignificant margin (view the polls here and here)

and of course, in second place:

primo nizzuto! he almost made it.

tied for third are martin eden and fabio cannizzaro!

thank you all for playing this game with me! but it's not over yet: starting tomorrow we'll begin with the Bonus Rounds, i.e. matchups suggested to me by You, or ones i thought would be funny. not all suggestions made it to keep from dragging this tournament out forever. there WILL be another post with some extra statistics from this tournament tomorrow, but that concludes this Luca Marinelli Character FIGHT, and i'll see you all in the bonus rounds

[brother-emperors]

so I’m cutting off this thread because it’s getting too long to keep reblogging it, but I just remembered Duterte’s Julius Caesar bullshit, so I will continue to document this kind of thing over on my filipiniana blog, @dalandan-oranges, under the tag ‘#the long reach of rome’ if you want to periodically check in on it!

[oak-and-hurricane]

there is smth so nerve wracking about running a meeting in another psych's school

[cinnamonest]

With this whole 'rape fantasies are a result of misogyny as they allow women a guilt free sexuality cos they have no autonomy'

Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?

Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?

Just seems crazy to me like 'we do this because of misogyny. And we'll keep doing it'

Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't

I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.

This isnt an attack on you it just really seems like common sense that if something exists because of misogyny the last thing we should do is feed into those ideas

(I assume this is coming from this post, so I might reference that a bit here)

No worries, I fully understand how this can come across negative to those who do not have the same experiences and I appreciate you approaching the matter in a non-attacking way with genuine desire to have dialogue on the subject. I'll do my best to address these points individually.

>Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?

In the past few years fandom culture has become a bit obsessed with the idea of "normalization" to the point that the definition of the term has been a bit skewed, which creates issues with these discussions.

There is no concept of which existence of content containing it alone constitutes normalization, by the actual definition of the word. Normalization is the process by which it is distributed and way in which it is presented, and intent of its creation.

Normalization via fiction is a process in which a creator, generally intentionally, creates content that presents a concept as, well, normal. That is, not reprehensible or problematic to replicate, and presents this to a population with the intent of them accepting the idea as something acceptable in reality. Generally it also necessitates that the creator will try to ensure the media is viewed by mainstream general audiences who would not normally seek the content out, since the purpose of normalization is to make an idea acceptable amongst a population.

That is the opposite of what I am doing, which is creating a private space filled with warnings. I am going out of my way to ensure that people who do not want to see this content, have the foreknowledge to opt to avoid it.

By definition, if you’re creating content and ensuring that it is heavily warned, and marketing it as such that only a niche group who likes such content seeks it out, that’s not normalization by any reasonable metric.

>Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?

For some people, I’m sure that would help them, and in that case, that is a great solution for them.

But people are different, and certain things that help some, don’t help others. The types of fantasies that would probably be called “empowering,” personally do nothing for me but make me uncomfortable, in the same way that the sort of content I write makes some people uncomfortable. It does not have the same positive effects on my mental health that this form of content does.

>Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't

That's fair — but it doesn't have to.

It is not intended to directly combat misogyny in any way, there are other ways to do that, and this does not have to be one. It's primary purpose is catharsis and the ways in which it benefits me and, as is my hope, those who choose to consume it.

>I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.

Again, I never had any intention for it to be a "win" — misogyny is the reason for why I have these desires, but in making what I make, my purpose is to provide catharsis for myself and others.

But also, I would heavily contest that it is indistinguishable from male fantasies. As someone who has seen actual men's misogynist fetishization fantasies, they are very different.

Female disposability and the complete worthlessness of women’s very being — that is, women being non-human objects that are interchangeable, and made to be used temporarily and replaced — is the core defining characteristic of male fantasy/sexuality. Male fantasies almost always involve multiple women to one man, largely because he does not have any actual bond with women, they are items to be collected, no interpersonal relationship actually exists.

The lack of interpersonal connection and lack of personableness itself is fetishized by men, what men get off to is the power they feel from completely disregarding the woman as a person in any way. The very act of the woman being thrown away after being used is fetishized.

In male fantasy, there is no interpersonal connection or affection of any kind, whereas that is one of the defining themes of content like mine.

Tl;dr — while misogyny impacts all women, the severity and form of it in different upbringings, environments and cultures can create misunderstandings and strong reactions when different people react so differently to the same content and thus form misconceptions about each other's perceptions and intentions, but I believe both sides of this argument are usually coming from a place of good intent.

While I fully understand how it would be difficult for those who do not have the same experience to grasp mine, I just ask for mutual understanding that some forms of content help some people, in the same way entirely different forms of content help other people.

[punkitt-is-here]

Yknow i love fo4 and fo76 as games but hate them as Fallout games yknow?

Like theyre nice to play and i love some of the characters but man. They just. Are not Fallout. Its literally like if you took Fallout but made it for a general audience, theres no spice!! Theres no grime!! Why is everything so clean!!!

That's the thing; these games are built with inherently different base goals in mind. Bethesda in the modern day thrives off selling the idea of player empowerment, of being an explorer in a foreign land that you conquer through hard work. You shape the world to your liking by questing and exploring and conquering. And genuinely? I got no problem with that. I think games that gas the player up like crazy and set you loose on a world to make it your own are totally fine conceptually! Like, the fantasy of being able to shape the world the way you see fit is something I think a lot of people can get into, whether you're just looking for control in your life or you just want the experience of feeling like you can have some grand effect on the world at large.

But because of that, I think the core of what makes Fallout so interesting has to be put on the backburner. I don't play Fallout to feel powerful necessarily, and I certainly don't play it for the fuckin' gunplay. I play it because it has such a fun dedication to weird stories that feel like they have something to say, a staff of writers dedicating their time and effort to being a proto-DM at a table, trying to provide interesting and thought-provoking or at least real damn fun stories in front of you, because ultimately, the West Coast Fallout games are about people. They're about characters! And when you focus less on the idea of telling stories in a world and more on empowering the player as a fourth-wall observer, those priorities clash and in the East Coast Fallout's cases, it makes for a game with no spice or edge. Having something to say about, say, the US Military or American Expansionism and Exceptionalism or the nature of clinging to the past kind of fundamentally clashes with the player empowerment fantasy that Bethesda Fallout games want to sell you. You can't have these philosophy-based, morally-interesting factional conflicts that want the player to look inward when the very concept of your game is built around collecting loot and shooting guys instead of learning about that loot and learning about those guys you're shooting and why you're shooting at each other. Having radiant quest loot loop gameplay just doesn't mesh well with a world where choices are meant to have far-reaching impact, because if it did, it'd be impossible to program under a normal development timeframe, and it would likely make the player look inward and go "what the fuck am I doing with my time?" at the endless meaningless quests to go on.

I don't think the "Lone Wanderer Comes Across A Microcosm Of Adventure" format is bad, not at all, but you have to put a lot of work to make that feel cohesive with the larger character and faction-based narratives that 1, 2, and NV are built on, so instead those Bethesda-style games opt more for a toybox, playground approach to the post apocalypse. And when your primary goal is showing the player how cool of a sandcastle they can build, it'll never be structurally sound enough to sustain even a wave of nuance.

[tenelkadjowrites]

i've been putting off making a formal announcement on this blog but i think i've reached a point where i can say the blog as everyone knows it is...done. the hiatus has turned into a retirement of sorts.

basically, going forward, there is no promise of any fics being posted, no more tag lists, no more icon/header changes for a hwa fic, etc. fics can be posted randomly and not just be focused on hwa, it'll be about whatever catches my attention and i want to write a fic on. this could mean months upon months with no update. it could mean i never update again. idk i am not really focusing on it.

so yeah, thats the short version. longer version under the cut.

the thing about running this blog is that over time it ended up being whatever idea i had needed to be tweaked in order to feel comfortable post it here. that could be trying to put smut scenes in, or thinking about the dynamic and how it would come across to an audience, or if i went too long without posting and it would weigh on me.

after my move to toronto, i hit burn out with the blog. i missed writing original works, and i missed the genre exploration i liked to do with original pieces such as horror. i dealt with a sort of nagging guilt if i didn't post on here for long periods of time and i felt like if i kept pushing against how my brain was going, the fics posted here would suffer in quality.

ppl who have read this far know that i don't pay attention to the amount of notes i get on my fics. i write the ideas because i want to write them. that's been my rule and once i got the sense i was writing for the blog and not writing cuz i wanted to, i realized i needed to step away from it.

so going forward, the only time this blog will be updated is if i got a story idea that naturally and organically was planned as a fic in my head. this could mean no more hwa fics ever again. it could mean fics about random video game characters. it could mean more star wars fics. or it could mean i don't update for a really long time. i don't know what form it will take. i'm not really focusing on that.

while this blog was my primary focus, i met a lot of amazing people and ended up meeting people that now mean so much to me. i had tons of nice messages sent to me. i never thought i'd get 3k followers here and that wasn't my goal, it just ended up happening.

if you read all this, thanks, and thank you to everyone who took the time to read anything i posted, it means a lot. i'll be at the toronto ateez show if anyone wants to say hi.

my main blog is @hologramhoneymoon - you can follow me there for a lot of random reblogs from a lot of random things.

[dollypopup]

I think it's interesting to look at the 'Mr. Bridgerton' scene as a backdrop for the eventual mirror scene. Firstly, in the fact that I think we've kind of misinterpreted it.

So many people are of the mind that scene's purpose to 'drag' Colin, but really, that scene has 3 primary functions. The first is to inform Colin that Penelope is aware of what he said of her, thus opening the door to clearing the air between them and providing an avenue for which Colin can apologize. The second is to establish the ground that they are currently on: Penelope has given up on the dream of Colin Bridgerton, in particular the perfect prince that can do no wrong, and has made it clear to him. It also creates distance between them that they will bridge.

But the third, and to me the most wrapped up in the mirror and the inner workings of their relationship is that it reveals how Penelope feels about *herself*. It's not necessarily an echo of what the ton considers her as, after all, we have a lot of evidence indicating that, for all intents and purpose, people aren't *unkind* about her, but rather that they ignore her. Audience members recognize this as Penelope's own shyness being the cause, she is often sitting off on the sidelines or not really talking to much of anyone, in the books she's referred to as the 'one who doesn't speak', and her LW business takes her away from being a character in the action of the ton to a bystander, kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts that perpetuates itself. Pen felt unseen so she became LW to have some power, but then LW herself must remain unseen and Penelope continues to be by design of her own making.

No, I think what it really reveals is that Penelope has incredibly low personal self esteem. We as a fandom has lauded that scene as her dragging Colin, saying that he's cruel and calling him Mr. Bridgerton is absolutely meant to create distance between them, but I don't think she's dragging him.

Because the person she is *actually* dragging here. . .is herself. And it is a general theme in her life. In Whistledown. Aloud. Even with Marina, when she complimented her, she assumes that she's lying. When Edwina says she's wearing a pretty dress, Penelope puts herself down and doesn't believe her, even when the compliment is genuine. In truth, Portia is not seen as being particularly unkind to Penelope. At least, speaking as someone who's mum was *awful* about my size and weight and outfits, Portia is. . .overall rather mild. She's not KIND and loving, not by a long shot, but she's also not targeting Penelope only. She's plenty mean and critical to Prudence, too, even to the point where she foists her off to her own cousin as a pawn piece. Penelope has low self esteem because of a lot of reasons, she's bullied by Cressida (I think a lot of girls are, she was pretty mean even to Daphne in S1) and her family isn't very tender to her, and she's not being pursued at every turn, but part of it is also her own perpetuation.

Listen to what she says "Of course you would never court me" "I embarrass you" "I am the laughingstock of the the ton". She sees *herself* as an embarrassment. She puts *herself* down. Arguably, more so than the ton does. She's meaner to herself than anyone else is, aside from Cressida. And honestly? Looking at Colin's face there. . .he is HURT that she considers herself this way. That she's projecting that onto him. Yes, he's hurt that he hurt her, of course he is, he never wants to hurt her. And yes, he's ashamed that he said he wouldn't court her the way he did and that in doing so, he validated her fears that she is unloved and unwanted, but also because. . .she already feels that way about herself. She's felt that way for years. And it's painful to care about someone, to see them as wonderful, and realize. . .they don't feel the same about themselves at all. I don't think Colin is out here feeling so wounded over the fact that she called him cruel and won't refer to him by first name anymore, but that he's most hurt by what she says about herself.

Because he *doesn't* see her the way she accuses. She says she never expected him of all people to be so cruel, but he feels the same way. He never expected her to be so cruel to *herself*. He wants to go somewhere private, not because she is an embarrassment, but because he wants to have a private conversation with her. Maybe assure her. Maybe explain himself. Maybe hash it out. But god Luke Newton's acting. . .he is *aching* for her. And it feels like he's going to do those lessons not in atonement for what he said (thank god) but to genuinely help his friend who thinks badly of herself. To lift her up. It's not about him at all, not about earning forgiveness, but about elevating Penelope. And that's. . .fuck, I just find that's just so heart stoppingly beautiful.

You can see, in that scene, how much he cares about her. How deeply and genuinely he adores her as a person. And just how painful it is for him to know he has validated, whether on purpose or otherwise, how poorly she feels about herself. How low her self-confidence really is. She is giving him a glimpse into the cracks of her heart, and when he sees them, he wants to reach out with both hands and make it feel better. Make her feel better.

After she says 'even when I change my entire wardrobe', he looks so fucking crushed. So 'don't say that'. So 'you really believe that?'. So 'God, I hate that you think that way'.

Because regardless of it all, he does love her. It's not romantic yet. It's not sexual yet. But he genuinely, truly, from the bottom of his heart, thinks she's wonderful. That was evident even in the 'purpose' scene. Every time Penelope opens up and reveals a facet of herself, he likes it. He likes her barbs and her dreams, he likes talking to her. He likes her. And he feels awful that he hurt her. And he feels awful that she's hurting herself. He loves her. He wants her to love herself.

And that's where the mirror scene comes in. Because the mirror scene isn't about sex, not really. Not entirely, at least. The mirror scene is about *intimacy*. The mirror scene is about being seen. Not just her seeing him, or him seeing her, but for Penelope to see *herself*. In a way, through his eyes. Because hers are biased rather negatively toward herself, which is evidenced in the 'Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton' scene, and in so many little moments we've already gotten where she's literally looking down on herself, feeling down. She doesn't necessarily *like* what's in the mirror, but he does. Because he likes *her*. And he wants to show her that he does. Show her that he finds her beautiful and have her recognize that in herself.

The 'Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton' scene is about Penelope revealing how she sees herself. The mirror scene is about Colin showing her how *he* sees her. The Goodnight scene is about Penelope thinking she means nothing to him, that he thinks of her the way she thinks of herself, that this is how everyone thinks of her, and the mirror scene is a direct response to that: No, he doesn't. No, he doesn't think she's embarrassing. No, he doesn't think she's a laughingstock. No, he doesn't think she's unappealing. And he doesn't think she should, either.

And he's going to show her that. Not just tell her, but show her. The mirror scene is so often a focus on Penelope, so much of Polin is in Penelope's focus, but approaching it from Colin's perspective and his motivations is so fulfilling, too. It's a glimpse into them in conversation, and a demonstrate of how Colin loves her. How Colin loves in general, openly and earnestly and altruistically. How he encourages her to be braver and more confident in herself, bolstering her because he just likes her *that much*. How he finds the most fulfillment and satisfaction in caring aloud. The mirror scene is a demonstration of his heart in reflection.

When Luke Newton said the first word that came to mind with the word 'Mirror' was 'Exposed', he doesn't just mean physically. He means emotionally, too.

God this couple is so fucking good.

[kevin-the-bruyne]

why I thought the kristsingto dance was offensive

My reaction to the KristSingto dance was, in fact, pure and utter shock with an immediate follow up of "well good for Thailand for being so progressive" and that was what I thought would be the end of my engagement with that performance and yet when I read this post by scarefox with commentary added by thebroccolination and hallowpen (mentioned to give credit untagged because I have social anxiety and forcing people to read my post is my worst nightmare) my mind was filled with thoughts that took me the greater part of the day to sort through and I still don't know if the following will be adequate. Because OH HO HO as it turns out Thailand isn't that progressive which means that this performance was constructed to be like this ON PURPOSE. This post is in conversation with some of the concepts brought up in the linked post so it will be helpful in understanding the direction I've chosen to go with this. But the linked post is a great post and you should read it regardless. There is much to love about the Kristsingto concert and even more to love about their sexy dance - the primary of which is how it makes every single one of my Asian sensibilities ring MAD alarm bells. I'm a diaspora south asian but I moved to the US alone when I was 18 which means I have an intact sense of Asian respectability, regularly replenished by my parents. I MEAN LOOK AT IT - THEY ARE ON A FREAKING BED!!!! SIR THAT IS A BEDROOM ACTIVITY ONLY

But some serious highlights as to what about this performance sets it apart: 1) The performance is focused on sensuality and desire. They're dressed like dancers and not particularly sexy ones. Everything about this performance is pared down to only focus on their movements. The costumes are simple, the bed is simple, the lighting mostly monochrome. There is nothing to see here BUT their desire for each other and the sex they are simulating

2) They are playing to each other and ONLY to each other and not the audience. This is probably THE REASON why it clocks differently from literally every other raunchy performance. They are dancing for EACH OTHER. The performance starts behind a screen, and the sex simulation is the most intense at this stage but then THE SCREEN FALLS but for the purposes of the performance, KristSingto don't even acknowledge it. The audience is THRUST into the position of a voyeur and remains so throughout the performance. Like there is a BED that looks like it came straight out of Krist's bedroom like give me a fucking BREAK sir those are inside house, behind closed doors activities you are engaging with on stage.

Even the parts where Krist or Singto face the audience it is a) never together at once and b) they are mirroring each other's movements highlighting their connection to each other over their individual connection with the audience. There is no hip thrusting, no flirtatious looks, absolutely nothing that would even remotely suggest that they're trying to titillate the audience. All the titillation is directed towards each other. This feeling of looking into a private moment is deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

3) It's KristSingto. So much to be said about this and I have a strong feeling that I am not the person who should be speaking about this. But it's Krist and Singto, highly respected veterans of the industry who don't 'need' to be engaging in these types of 'extreme behaviors' to get ahead. So why would Kristsingto need to 'resort' to these behaviors?

Well, because the purpose of art, and I would argue quite specifically queer art, is to push the boundaries of how society allows the 'self' to behave and express itself. There is a reason why BL has captured the fascination of so many straight women. I would argue this is true everywhere but specifically for Asians, the shackles placed on queer sexuality did not feel so different from the shackles placed on women's sexuality period. Queer sexual liberal *is* sexual liberation and there are a lot of outgroup parties who have a vested, personal interest in pushing this agenda forward. I have to stop before this gets so long that I have to find a university to grant me a masters but 'Fanservice Is Wrong' and 'Fanservice Has Finally Gone Too Far' is just the fan service discourse. But the truth is that Fanservice *IS* radical queer visibility and always has been. I started my fandom journey in JPOP nearly 15 years ago and that was the conversation then [link takes you to a fanservice kiss between Ninomiya Kazunari and Ohno Satoshi from Arashi in 2008 that was 6 years in the making but I digress] and apparently if KristSingto will get to have their way that will be the conversation now. To deny their dance as offensive is to deny the incredible ways in which it's in conversation with the society they're operating in, the risks they are still taking even amidst widespread celebration for the Marriage Equality Bill in Thailand.

KristSingto had totally blown the doors, windows and glass ceilings wide open with SOTUS that I would argue had rippling effects on the BL being produced throughout Asia, not just Thailand. And the pressure of that was SO high, that attention so unexpected and burdensome that neither could actually stay and enjoy that moment. OffGun and TayNew had reaped more fruits from KristSingto's labor than Krist and Singto. KristSingto isn't just another branded pair - they are quite literally BL royalty and they are not here to play games. Except this time they are pushing the envelope with their eyes wide open and I am buzzing to see what's next for them.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] With Every Nerve Alive

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4623 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, brief appearance by Matthew, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, detailed sexual fantasies, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, questionable lube choices, within a fantasy don't worry, no one's really getting fingered with engine grease, sugar daddy-sugar baby fantasies, glass sex toys

Notes: Prequel/bookend to Customer Service. I realized that Hot Mechanic Hob needed Dream's pov to get the full effect, so this happened. Also fills my @dreamlingbingo square C1, 'Sugar Baby', a couple thousand words in. Title taken from Turbo Lover by Judas Priest

Summary: Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined.

On AO3

~ "Alright, and what're we lookin' at her for?"

"The clutch. Is not operating as expected; I fear I may have damaged it. Somehow."

Dream is grateful that the stout American behind the counter at Matthew's Motor Repairs does not pass any obvious judgement on this damning statement.

"Well, that definitely needs checking, then," he says instead, punching in notes on his computer terminal. "Hob'll be runnin' things for the next couple of weeks, lemme see when he can fit your girl in." He turns toward the half-open door that leads to the garage and yells.

"Hey Hob!"

"Yeah! Just a tic—"

"He'll definitely be able to find the problem and fix you up," the American is saying, but Dream pays him little mind, thinking ahead to schedules and obligations; the Porsche is not his primary means of transportation regardless. It had been a gift from Alex that he'd kept after the breakup, primarily out of spite. He will say, when asked, that he drives it for fun, but truthfully the manual transmission does not come easily to him and the car suffers for it. He is considering selling it, perhaps once the satisfaction of knowing how Alex seethes to see him with it has worn down—

"What's up?"

Dream spares a glance for the man who's just entered through the doorway to the garage, and promptly loses his breath.

—Exquisite—

The man is beautiful, average height and slim sturdy build, dressed in grimy coveralls that are split just enough at the zip to glimpse the collar of a plain white tee beneath. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when he wipes at it, still with a wrench in hand, he leaves a faint smudge of black grease behind. His hair is dark, longish, tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head with wisps straying loose about his face attractively. His eyes and his smile are warm, strong nose and chin, a few days' worth of beard growth giving him a wonderfully soft-rugged cast that sets Dream's mouth to watering.

The coverall sleeves are rolled and twisted up to his elbows; the forearms exposed are liberally covered with dark hair, skin a warm sunkissed golden brown beneath, shapely and corded with the strength that comes of manual labor, of hefting tires and torquing wrenches. Dream considers, quite despite himself, how those hands might fit around his waist, his hips; how easily this man might lift or manhandle him about in bed, and the heat that has risen in his loins stirs approvingly.

"Mr. Atelíotes here's got clutch troubles with his Porsche," the American is saying. "Think you'll have time to check it out?"

"Not right away, I'm afraid. How soon would you be needing her back?" the mechanic asks, directly to Dream, and oh, the full focus of that gaze is divine.

"I am in no hurry," he manages to reply, voice only marginally dipping down toward sultry. He is here to see about car repairs, not to flirt with the hot mechanic in front of an audience. He is an adult. He is well-versed in exercising all manner of self control.

The mechanic smiles, like a ray of sunshine, and Dream's self-control is tested.

"Okay then, I can probably get you looked at and fixed up toward the end of next week, if that works for you? Thursday or Friday, let's say." He slips the wrench that he's still holding into a pocket on his coveralls, drawing Dream's attention to the lower half of his body, how the zipper on the coveralls goes all the way down underneath, and he firmly corrals and muzzles the thoughts that arise. Later. Let him finish his business here before he embarrasses himself.

"Next week is just fine," he agrees.

"Excellent," the mechanic says, beaming brightly, and Dream's mouth goes dry.

He is so unfairly beautiful.

The mechanic is talking now to the American who is entering Dream's work order and Dream drinks in the sight of him greedily, committing every detail to memory—the brush of silver at his temples, the crows' feet blooming at the corners of his eyes with every smile, the dimple in his chin just visible as a darkening of the scruff that adorns his jaw so beautifully. His arm flexes prettily as he points to the screen with a black-stained fingertip and his voice is strong yet soft and warm like honey; Dream sneaks a glance at his backside when he turns to the printer and finds the suggestion of shapeliness beneath the loose fit of the coveralls. Dream imagines, helplessly, buttocks and strong thighs covered in hair to match those exposed forearms, and barely stifles a whimper.

This man is absolutely exquisite, and Dream wants him.

Badly.

"Alright, Mr. Atelíotes, let me get your signature here," the mechanic says cheerfully, oblivious to the tempest he has stirred within Dream as he hands him the printed work order and a pen.

Dream makes certain that their fingers brush as he takes it, noting the smudge of fingerprints left on the paper by the other.

He glances at the mechanic's name on the form as he signs. Hob Gadling. He tucks the name safely into the vault of his mind, hoarding it for later use.

"Give me a call on Thursday next week, we'll see where we're at," Hob Gadling is saying, handing him a business card and leaving another grey-black thumbprint on the corner of the white cardstock. Dream immediately thinks of such fingerprints against the pristine paleness of his own skin and swallows thickly.

"Thursday," he repeats. "I will call then, thank you." It is Monday, currently; a week and a half is quite reasonable for routine car repairs in a reputable shop, he is given to understand, and Matthew's Motor Repairs is consistently rated with four and five stars online. He is confident that he has chosen well, especially when Hob Gadling smiles brightly while bidding him good day.

It is a good day indeed, for having met such a stunningly beautiful man.

~

He takes a cab home to Kensington, trying very hard to put his thoughts in order and focus on the week ahead, on his business meetings and the client proposal he's expecting on Friday. But his mind is full of brown eyes and warm smiles, hairy forearms and grease-stained hands, and his entire body finds these thoughts far more appealing than those of his day-to-day mundanities.

Hob Gadling lingers in his mind persistently, a siren call warming his blood and distracting him at the slightest provocation. Late afternoon finds him abandoning his office and retreating to his rooms, surrendering to the thoughts that have plagued him since his visit to Matthew's Motor Repairs this morning.

Hob Gadling—

He imagines how the smell of the shop might cling to the man, oils and gasoline and the sweat of his labor, intoxicating and inviting should Dream nuzzle in close. He imagines those hands with their black-stained fingertips, their work-roughened texture, sliding over his body. How might they feel against his skin, his chest, his thighs? On his tongue? He imagines the hungry light that might fill Hob Gadling's eyes, if Dream were to take those skilled fingers into his mouth and hold his gaze while sucking on them, tonguing lovingly at every crack and callous. He imagines those fingers dark all over with a thick layer of fresh grease, the mechanic holding them up with a smirk like a promise, turning Dream to lay on the bonnet of his car—or perhaps bending him over a stack of tires there in the garage, yes—and pushing those fingers inside him, deep and insistent and perfect while his other hand holds Dream down at the small of his back. Automotive lubricant is perhaps not sanitary or otherwise suitable for sexual use, but the heat-of-the-moment urgency of the idea appeals all the same.

He groans aloud at the thought of being fingered with the thick warm grease, the slide and drag and the way Hob Gadling's fingers would curve and press exactly right until Dream was shaking apart with pleasure, scrabbling at the rubber tread of the tires he's bent over. He imagines Hob Gadling murmuring complimentary filth above him—"You look so pretty with my fingers up your arse; bet you'd look even prettier speared on my prick"—as he comes and comes and comes.

Of course he wishes to have the mechanic's cock as well. He is certain it is full and glorious, a beautiful specimen that would fill him perfectly, touch every sweet spot within him and set him alight. He wants it in his hands, in his mouth, in his arse; he wants it any way he can have it.

He desperately wants to get fucked by Hob Gadling in his garage amongst his work, by Hob Gadling strong and sweaty and dirty in his element, vigorous and virile.

The car would perhaps be most comfortable for lying on his back, the better to see Hob Gadling's gorgeous face while taking his cock. He himself would be stark naked and the mechanic still in his coveralls, unzipped all the way to let his prick out. Dream imagines him naked beneath the grimy clothing; Dream envisions chest hair to match what was seen on his gorgeous arms. Dream imagines those arms sliding up along the bonnet beside him, bringing his legs with them until Dream is nearly folded double and breathless with the sweet pressure of the mechanic's dick inside him, pistoning deep and perfect.

Would Hob Gadling pick him up, like so much inventory to be moved about the shop? Would Hob Gadling fuck him standing upright, holding him as if he weighed nothing? He fantasizes about the strength in those forearms and biceps, of the way they would flex and hold, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows and those broad hands gripping his hips as the mechanic would bounce Dream up and down on his prick, Dream clinging around his neck and jack-knifed beautifully in his powerful arms.

He comes at the thought, face down on his knees in his bed with a toy vibrating steadily against his prostate as he strokes himself over the edge, and the orgasm is so intense that he loses all sense of space and time for a moment. The toy is still buzzing merrily when he comes back to himself and he fumbles for the remote beside him, turning it off without yet removing it. He rolls over, brings his messy hand to his face and licks. He wonders what difference he might taste between Hob Gadling and himself, imagines that he is licking Hob Gadling's spend from his hand instead of his own, imagines how those dark eyes and that lovely mouth would smile to see him do so, slow and lascivious.

He turns the toy back on.

His fantasies continue as the days progress. He imagines taking Hob Gadling into his mouth, tasting the sweat and the musk of him after working all day in the garage; he imagines lavishing his tongue all over the length of him, sucking and swallowing and milking him dry. He imagines Hob Gadling's work-roughened hands in his hair, combing through it, clenching tight as he spends into Dream's eager mouth.

He imagines Hob Gadling on his back on the low wheeled board that mechanics use for sliding beneath cars—he does not know its proper name, but he imagines opening Hob Gadling's coveralls while he is laid out on this board and riding him like a prize stallion there on the shop floor with the scent of his work and his sweat all around. He imagines the blackened smears Hob Gadling's hands might leave on him, on his hips, his waist, his arse.

He imagines Hob Gadling bending him over the bonnet of his Porsche, fucking him hard and fast and absolutely without mercy until he is screaming his pleasure, until he is so loud that the mechanic will cover his mouth to muffle the noise and simply fuck him harder still. He wants it, aches for it, imagines Hob Gadling's hands planted firm on his arse, squeezing, spreading him open for his pounding cock, leaving dirty smudges on both cheeks as they careen into orgasm together—

Dream comes under the warm cascade of his own rainfall shower, one hand braced against the sleek tiles while the other grips his pulsing cock tightly. He draws great gasping breaths of the humid air, mind barreling on even as his climax peaks and begins to subside. His mechanic in the shower with him after all of that, sudsy and slippery-wet beneath the spray, shedding the grease and grime of his workplace; his mechanic, pulling him in for a kiss, smelling now of soap more than sweat. The idea appeals, on more than one level, and will not be dislodged even as he dries and dresses for bed. He falls asleep at last to the thought of a scrubbed-clean Hob Gadling on his knees beneath the gently-pouring water, freshly-shampooed hair swept sleek and dripping back from his face and his smiling mouth wrapped around Dream's cock.

He wakes to the sun streaming in his window and lies alone in his spacious bed with drowsy thoughts of being kissed awake, of Hob Gadling's stubbled face and warm lips nuzzling against his cheek, of calloused hands with black-stained nailbeds petting down his sides and grasping his hips. Of Hob Gadling's strong shapely arms pulling him close, Hob Gadling's chest hair tickling his nose, Hob Gadling's heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.

He thinks of Hob Gadling following him about the kitchen as he fixes breakfast, imagines his mechanic in a borrowed robe that hits him mid-thigh and doesn't quite close over his chest. He does not currently own such a robe, but that does not matter to the fantasy. He imagines Hob Gadling draped warmly over his back in this too-small robe while he cooks, nuzzling kisses into the nape of his neck, purring about how he wants Dream for breakfast while dragging his calloused fingertips up the insides of Dream's bare thighs. Because of course Dream has merely thrown on a long shirt to cook for his lover, and of course his mechanic cannot keep his hands to himself, and of course Dream would like to be fucked over the kitchen worktop before breakfast.

It is a daring fantasy, this stranger in his home, infusing sex and affection into his daily routines, and Dream wants it with an intensity that is frightening.

He spins himself broader fantasies as the days become a week, of showing up to his mother's summer gala with Hob Gadling on his arm, a mere mechanic brought to an Atelíotes event. He dreams of engaging in increasingly indecent public displays with him where all the high society patrons would see, embarassing Mummy Dearest and igniting gossip that would haunt her for years. He would reward Hob Gadling handsomely for his part in the scandal, sexually, financially, both if he should like. Or perhaps he might offer Hob Gadling gifts and incentives without petty family business mixed in, lavish rewards simply for his affections and sexual attentions. The term 'sugar baby' is very much in line with his thoughts, if not entirely accurate; he is only forty himself and his mechanic had appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. But that feeds into his story; Hob Gadling is well into adulthood and working in trade labor. Perhaps he never had the chance to go to university; perhaps he had grown up poor. Perhaps he might like to undertake a course of study now, if Dream were to offer to pay for such a thing, in thanks for how well-fucked his mechanic would keep him?

Perhaps he might gift Hob Gadling a luxury car like his Porsche, in return for the sexual services he should like to be provided. Perhaps he might buy him tailored suits, expensive clothes in the latest fashions. He is undeniably drawn to the grimy working-class vision that had been branded on his memory when dropping off his car, sweaty and grease-smeared and glowing with life, but he also imagines how stunning his mechanic might look cleaned up and dressed to the nines. Dream would like to wine and dine him at the finest restaurants in London, put him into a limousine after, open his perfectly-tailored trousers and sample his cock on the drive home. To Dream's home, of course, where he would take Hob Gadling to bed and offer up his body for his mechanic's use—which would be delightfully merciless, given how Dream had primed and teased and denied him with his mouth in the car.

Perhaps he might take Hob Gadling away with him on holiday, show him all manner of foreign destinations he would never have seen on his own; at each of them Hob Gadling would fuck him, in sumptuous hotel beds or private beach cabanas or the gleaming toilet stalls of michelin-starred restaurants, with every bit of skill and enthusiasm at his disposal—delighted to be Dream's kept man and eager to show his gratitude for all that Dream could provide.

Dream groans, dragging one hand down across his mouth and arched throat while the other works swiftly over his cock, writhing on his bed with his shirt undone and his trousers open. He is achingly hard, leaking steadily into every rapid stroke; he hasn't even bothered undressing, so caught up in the feverish fantasies of the money and favors he might lavish on this man who consumes his thoughts, of how thoroughly he could expect to be railed and ravished and seen to in return—

Orgasm overtakes him quite suddenly, leaves him gasping and breathless and wrecked, and still he craves more. His fantasies are delectable, but his appetite is insatiable.

He desperately wants the real thing.

~

It is Thursday of the next week at last and Dream, fueled by his fading ability to recall the precise brown of Hob Gadling's eyes or the way his cheeks crease up when he smiles, does not call Matthew's Motor Repairs to check on the status of his Porsche as instructed. Instead, he drives out, excusing the trip to himself by visiting a local bookseller first and picking up several selections to add to his personal library. He does not linger overlong among the shelves, however; today he is consumed with much more pressing distractions.

He must see Hob Gadling again, if only for a moment.

When he enters the shop, there is no one at the counter up front and the door to the garage is ajar, raucous music drifting faintly through. "Hello?" he calls, but receives no reply.

It is a warm day outside and quite warm inside as well; Dream imagines how sweaty Hob Gadling must be, to be performing physical labor under these conditions. Such thoughts do nothing to calm or cool him.

After only a moment's hesitation, he rounds the counter and passes through the doorway, at which point he can hear Hob Gadling's voice singing along—"You don't have a clue/If you did you'd find yourself/Doin' the same thing too!"—beneath the music, passably on-key no less.

Yet another appealing feature to this man; it is simply unfair. Dream draws himself up, heart beating harder, and ventures around the large sink and cleanup station until he can see his Porsche, up on ramps, and—

And legs sticking out from beneath the side of it on one of those rolling boards, Hob Gadling's legs no doubt, spread wide like an invitation.

Dream stops abruptly, heat pouring into his belly; he takes a deep breath of the warm stuffy air, the machine-and-metal smell of the garage doing nothing to calm his libido. He stares, helplessly, at the work boots and coveralls, at where they stretch across Hob Gadling's crotch, affording frustratingly little suggestion of what lies beneath. And just above that, he can see that the coveralls are unzipped, not quite far enough to expose underwear but enough that Dream is treated to a glimpse of warm golden-brown belly and the dip of his navel, the dark sweep of hair above and below it.

—Mouthwatering—

It is with tremendous effort that Dream corrals his thoughts, steps forward again, closes the space between them and clears his throat to announce his presence. He nudges one booted foot with his own, not entirely meaning to do so but somehow unable to resist.

"Bloody—" The mechanic scoots out from beneath the car and Dream's knees go weak; he is grateful they do not give out altogether.

Hob Gadling is indeed shirtless beneath his open coveralls, displaying a chest far more gloriously hairy than Dream had imagined, a pelt thick and dark and alluring. He wants to touch, to comb his fingers through and rub his face against it, to lick the trail of hair that leads down to where the parted zipper comes back together. There is a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and Dream would lick that off as well; Hob is smudged with grease in various smears across his torso and forearms and Dream can hardly think for the rushing of blood in his ears, the swelling of want in the pit of his stomach. He drags his eyes back up to Hob's face, trying to school the ravenous hunger from his own gaze; he does not think he is overly successful in that regard but there is discernible heat in the warm brown eyes that meet him, and it is difficult to care about dignity, propriety, with reality unfolding so near to the fantasies that have carried him through the last ten days.

He stutters through some explanation for his presence, barely aware of his own words, barely registering the rundown he is given in return, watching hungrily as Hob climbs to his feet. His car will be finished tomorrow. He will have reason to see Hob again tomorrow. But right now he is unraveling, his self control a tenuous and threadbare thing barely within his grasp. He is watching Hob's mouth as he speaks, captivated, obsessed with the warm color of it flashing among the dark scruff of Hob's beard, and Dream wants to taste. His mouth, his skin, his cock, which is surely as magnificent as the rest of him—Dream cannot bear the thought of leaving without confirming his certainties, but it is one thing to revel in fantasy alone in his bed and quite another to actually act on it when faced with the man before him—

"Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Atelíotes?"

Hob Gadling is looking at him, hip cocked and coveralls alluringly open, smile just this side of invitational; there is the strong suggestion of interest and an implied offer in that warm tone and Dream's resolve, such as it is, crumbles.

He reaches. He touches. He speaks his want and follows with a flirtatious tease to mitigate his intensity, is met by teasing agreement in return, but when his mechanic mentions cleaning up first he absolutely cannot agree.

"No. As you are now, please." He steps closer, directly into Hob's space, a week and a half of fantasies clamoring in his mind as the scent of the man wafts into his nose—oil and grease, warm metal, sweat and a faint trace of citrus and a hint of some pleasantly masculine deodorant; Dream's mouth waters, and his prick throbs.

His mechanic hesitates. "I'm kind of filthy though?"

There is a tinge of shame beneath the words, and Dream. Will not have it.

"I am aware, yes," he purrs, seizing the open lapels of the grimy coveralls, and kisses Hob Gadling with ten days' worth of anticipation and want.

~

Dream is coasting on an adrenaline and endorphin high as he drives home, afterwards. He acted. He spoke directly of what he wanted. And he got it. He had spent ten days nursing fantasy and now he has experienced a delightful sliver of the reality of Hob Gadling.

And tomorrow, he will experience more.

Sleep does not come easily that night, keyed up and aroused as he is, but he manages at last. He wakes later than usual the next morning; he eats a light brunch, the excitement in his stomach counterproductive to the task, and makes sure to drink more water than usual. Thoughts of Hob fill his mind, arousing, distracting, enticing; he recalls with a sharp thrill the taste of Hob's pleasure on his tongue, and he is eager to be on his way to their appointment.

But there are things he must do to prepare, first.

He takes an enema, then shaves and showers, lathering everywhere with his sweetest-smelling soap, determined to be the polar opposite of what he lusts for in Hob. He strives for the cleanest prettiest and freshest he can get, the better to be taken and sullied and dirtied by his mechanic; Hob had seemed quite pleased with that dynamic yesterday and Dream is eager to repeat it with Hob's cock in his arse this time.

To that end, he employs a favorite dildo once he is clean and dry, lubing himself carefully and working himself open on the toy, mind blazing with thoughts of Hob all the while. He knows, now, the size and the shape (and the taste!) of Hob's prick, and he is giddy with the anticipation of having it inside him. He is salivating over how Hob compares to the dildo, how Hob will fill him just that much better, what filthy things Hob might say while taking his time over long slow thrusts, how good it will feel when Hob finally rails him without mercy—

He must force himself to stop, hard and panting as he withdraws the toy from his body. He sorts through his glass plugs quickly, finding the one he wants and fitting it carefully inside himself. It's broad enough to stretch him just a little more, perfectly flared to fit just right inside and out, short enough that he can bend and sit without discomfort. It's a beautiful tease, as a matter of fact, keeping him keyed up and aroused as he dresses himself, making him squirm just a little with every step as he gathers his condoms and his pocket-sized bottle of lube and his phone wallet and water, and leaves the house.

He composes himself over the two blocks he walks to the busier streets where he can hail a cab, steeling himself to normalcy in both movement and appearance while pleasure sings in his veins with every subtle shift of the toy within him. He is half-hard, hidden well enough by the loose cut of his slacks, and works to keep his thoughts from heating any further until he has reached his destination.

The cab drops him outside of Matthew's Motor Repairs and he pays, distracted and breathless with anticipation. Hob is there, inside, and Dream is certain that Hob is just as eager as he is for their rendezvous.

He hopes that Hob is just as eager.

Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances, reads the hand-written sign taped to the glass of the shop door. Ring if you have an appointment.

Dream's heart plummets for half a second, until he remembers their parting conversation yesterday about appointments and showing up and fitting in. This sign is for him, surely, a blatant invitation.

He takes a breath to calm the excited pounding of his heart, squirms surreptitiously on the toy inside him, and rings the bell.

= Started: 5/15/24 Drafted: 7/27/24 Posted: 7/29/24

[1-800-deactivatednearu]

woag character design notes

[i.d.: a drawn line up of the half life vr ai characters, from left to right, gordon, dr. coomer, tommy, bubby, gman, and benrey. /end i.d.]

yeah i skipped some guys , i dont draw some of them enough to have much unique designs and some of them are a png of a dog

trust me i am just surprised as the rest of yall that i am doing hlvrai art . design notes below (very long, mind your step)

gordon:

wow this guy dont got no head

i didnt want to give gordon a face because of how unexact the person is as the fandom engages with it. is it wayne rtvs? (well as presented to an audience, yes) is it gordon freeman? (well as seen from an in game perspective, yes) is it a whole new guy entirely? (well as

i cut the confusion and took it a whole new direction: guillotine

hlvrai being treated as a very broken game is fun to me as a design perspective, so if you (the audience) are not supposed to see his face, what happens when you see it anyways? missing texture time

there are eyes drawn over because i did not have confidence in my expressions at first and then it grew on me

i think if i were to draw (and i have drawn) an actual person under the mask i would still censor the eyes because that is where the vr headset sits!!

(i do not like putting an actual flesh to gordon though)

though i really like seeing how other people interpret gordon hlvrai it is not . my gordon ? we are talking about the same guy . but this is my gordo . i made this one . this guy my guy . maybe i should draw other gordon designs

i can draw the hev suit from memory and it is also the entire reason why i can render metal confidently

i liked how people changed the lambda to read ai :] i also have no clue if i wrote the lambda correctly

(i did, i just checked)

dr coomer:

as much as i draw/drew him i find it more fun to not stick to one set design :)

so a lot of my takes on dr coomer tend to jump from idea to idea, especially from what other people are doing, though they could be fitted to the left and right designs!

the left design is mainly based off what i saw in fandom spaces

we see rounder shapes, making for a more friendly and welcoming appearance

i think of this as straying from the more professional uniform of the actual scientist models

enter swimming shorts and bright yellow socks, for some reason

so now he kind of looks like a cool science teacher :)

it might be the lab coat

the right design is mainly based off thumbnails for hlvrai itself

these use a more angular appearance

i want to push how comically buff he is because of strength he shows at times, especially since his left design seems to completely down play it as a comically not buff man who is still very strong

the shadows on right design coomer get so much more harsh and exaggerated because i have comic books on the mind :)

he really does look like a dehydrated comic book character huh

tommy:

stick bug (he gets it from his dad) (this thought process is explained at gman section)

i pushed a lot of the saturation of colours in her design because i think tommy gets to be a little silly with it

fun art story of the day! when you color, try messing with hue! you might notice you can get away with a lot as long as your values are about right

i like pushing this with white because you can get away with a lot of things reading as “off white”

old faithful for me is cool shadows with a warm transition colour to keep things visually interesting

i keep making white objects the trans flag

happy pride

tommys design looks a little like a school boy, with the tucked in button up shirt+suspenders+shorts+jacket tied around the waist . and the primary colours . but like it is really fun to dress up so brightly

i actually was strongly inspired by medieval babies if that is a weird descriptor? i wanted him to both be a middle aged man but also a young adult

do not be like tommy, who has their finger on the trigger of the gun while not even looking at where it is pointing and good god he is squeezing the trigger . top ten firearm safety of all time

bubby:

the absurd part is that i think bubby is tall . he is just between tommy and gman who are exaggeratedly lanky .

i wanted to make bubby a pointy kinda guy, so he is the only one actually wearing the lab coat proper . and the only one actually wearing dress socks but not even wearing dress shoes

i wanted to give him a novelty tie but i was running low on ideas and running high on boreds so we dont get a tie

he does have crocs though!! in attack mode!!

i do think we all kind of saw his model and collectively decided it works for him because i have honestly not seen major divergences from his model?

gman:

stick bug

i wanted to stress the more spooky and unknowable nature of him and took it in the dark souls direction of “make bigger than player character”

maked too bigger

he cannot walk through any doorways but you will have to crane your neck to look up at him

in the opposite direction of tommy, i pulled a lot of the saturation in gmans design

it feels important to make them both not fully match the rest of the slightly less broken npcs because there was so much work to make them look cool so i have to respect that

actually a lot of gmans and tommys designs are made in opposite to one another

gman has a largely stationary face and very stiff line work

while tommy is pushed to expressive as possible

thats pretty fun, way to go me

benrey:

benrey also has two designs

and in both of these i keep getting too lazy to use a reference so  the vests are super plain (forgetting the badge and black mesa logo) . i think the helmet is supposed to be darker actually .

the design ethos of benrey was “built like a brick shithouse”

a friend of mine took this cooler and interpreted it as a shield/wall/barrier as a physical (and narrative) obstacle

again the first uses fandom designs

most notably the overcast shadow (seen in video thumbnails but i never noticed it or understood why so many people did it until someone pointed it out to me)

i think hlvrai is such a great medium because it acknowledges it is a game and is able to play into that to great effect! i think the shadow is fun to imagine as solid black as a small reminder of the impossibility of the space :]

benrey is a smug cat in the body of a human . to be honest . and this is the full range of emotion i have ever drawn him with

the second was mostly because as fun as taking creative liberties are, i just really wanted to see benrey as is: the half life security guard model in all its slight wonk :]

i actually do prefer this design . it is a little more uncanny because i choose the worst translations of the model . i like it because it is a little more uncanny !

that can be said for like . every single design in this line up huh .

[snapscube]

I think a lot of people read dereconstruct as a trans journey, but when you talk about it you seem to mention religion, is it a mix of both? or leaning more one way than the other?

i don't really like talking about, or having other people talk about, my gender identity or transition unless i have something novel to say about it and initiate the conversation myself. you will rarely hear me bring it up myself, and you will also see me shut it down sometimes. this has been a sticking point for a while and it's a very necessary bit of control i have to keep over my personal narrative wherever i can because as my audience has grown the more people project things onto me or tell my story in a way i don't actually resonate with. my journey was very public at the onset out of necessity but at the same time i find myself wishing less people would offer up info in my stead because oftentimes it genuinely affects people's ability to discuss me with any more nuance than that and i can always tell the difference between someone who views me as like a person and someone who's primary understanding of me is "trans content creator". however, all this being said, it has been true for a very long time that music is the medium in which i am most open about these things because it is the way i often find the most novel and most meaningful ways to talk about my experiences without beating a dead horse or inviting limitation to my persona. i'm not really good at being a role model in that sense, but i do think i am pretty good at being an artist or at least that's where i strive to make the most impact, and i just don't find this stuff as personally interesting to talk about any other way anymore, at least not with strangers.

so anyway, all this to say: DeReconstruct does feature a heavy emphasis on my identity and the ways in which i've come into my own in that sense because it was produced at a time where i had a lot of newfound independence and was able to make strides in my own personal development like i'd never done before, and transition was a big part of that. but it was not the only part of that by a long shot. obviously whatever the album means to you as an individual, i'd never want to take that away or say it's wrong! but personally when i think of DeReconstruct or really any of my music i don't think of them as "trans stories". religion was a HUGE aspect of why i decided to make the EP in the first place, which is why Hypothesis, a song primarily about religious deconstruction, was the climax of that album. similarly, though Electrolysis is, in the most literal sense, a song about electrolysis as a treatment, it means a lot more to me in 2023 as a story about perseverance through any number of pains.

TL;DR, it is both and also more. i am a person with multitudes and DeReconstruct is made up of multitudes as well. as is my previous work, and as will my work be in the future.

[asha-mage]

Since it's my birthday my friends got me the amazing gift of 'watching the Wheel of Time show while occasionally stopping to discuss/let me loose my mind' for which I am incredibly grateful. A few random observations from this time through, as I attempted to view it through the lens of the entirely WoT uninitiated (as my friends are)-

The group shots, where the camera passes from one of the Emond's Field 5 to another, do this clever trick where Rand is never actually standing on his own. He's always standing beside or behind someone in one of these shots, so the camera doesn't actually have to cut or pan away from someone else to get to him. This serves the purpose of highlighting him in contrast to his friends, but also to subtlety downplay his presence to the audience, and build up to the Dragon reveal in episode 7 very effectively.

The cinematography in general is so exceedingly rich and delicious- the stark white of the Whitecloak camp contrasted with the bloody reality of their actions. The bright primary colors used to make the Aes Sedai visually pop and feel magical and strange, even as they are dressed (for the most part) practically for their traveling (a complaint I had about the Witcher, aside from everything being brown and grey all the time, is that the mages show up to battles dressed in ballroom dresses instead of you know, clothing that would make sense). The subtle use of lighting and camera angle to create a sense of vast isolation of Shadar Logoth, fear and danger in the Ways, and cramp sweltering heat in the Blight.

Moiraine's opening narration in episode 1 is essentially a summary of the information we get from one of the epigraphs at the ending of the Eye of the World prologue, to whit:

"And the Shadow fell upon the land, and the world was riven, stone from stone. The oceans fled and the mountains where swallowed up. and the nations where scattered to the eight corners of the world. The moon was blood and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the shadow, and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon." - Aleth nin Tearin alta Camora, The Breaking of the World, author unknown, the Fourth Age "The world is broken. Many many years ago men who where born with great power attempted to cage darkness itself. The arrogance. When they failed, the seas boiled, mountains where swallowed up, cities burned, and the women of the Aes Sedai where left to pick up the pieces. These women remembered one thing above all else, the man who brought the Breaking of the World. And him, they. named Dragon." - Moiraine

This makes me suspect their was an earlier version of the script that actually used the epigraph (maybe even both of them). I have mixed on feeling on this, as the epigraphs are one of my favorite artistic choices of Jordan's and really help emphasize the history and depth of his world, but I think filtering it through Moiriane and making it slightly less opaque was a smart choice to convey the information to the audience. I also think this works on a character level as well- here is Moiraine's understanding of this information, shaped by her biases.

Every re-watch also makes me more and more comfortable in my 'the show is a future/past turning of the wheel from the books, the broad events and truths being the same, but seen in one of those endless variations we hear about' interpretation of the series. The heart of the story and characters is the same, and the broad strokes and framework are the same, but it's in the details where things emerge as different. This interpretation has the benefit of fitting really really well with the meta-narrative stuff Jordan always liked to pull, and in freeing I think the show expectations of being a one-to-one recreation.

That said I defiantly felt the cracks in the final two episodes as a result of the Covid shutter and loosing Barney Harris more strongly this time- some of that being that this is my first re watching of season 1 since I've seen season 2. You can practically see the things they wanted/planned to do that had to re-worked because of circumstances beyond their control. Mat's absence in the group argument scene (and the 'I am so tired of you two fighting over her' line that was clearly meant to be Mat's), as well as the lack of bigger/more cohesive battle scene in Tarwin's Gap. You can also tell they hadn't quite figured out how they where going to re-work season 2 yet given that the ending for season 1 had to be changed last minute (for example, their is no reason for Moiraine to just outright admit that she released Lan's bond unless they hadn't yet decided that was where their arc was going yet).

I think the show does an exceedingly good job of structuring it's exposition to the un-intiatited, trying to stagger it so that audience is largely learning new things in pace with the characters. I know people where frustrated that things like the War of Power have yet to come up in earnest even in the Latra and Lews scene, but I think the slow and steady reveal of things matches both the core idea of 'their is always more you don't know', and trying not to overwhelm the audience. My friends had no trouble following what was going and picking up the bigger implications/subtext that underpins a lot of information. 'But why did the Dragon try to cage the Dark One? It doesn't seem like it was that simple.' came up a few times especially.

The detail that what jump-starts Perrin's wolf brother connection is having his wound healed/cleaned by the wolves in that scene from episode 2 is so incredibly clever, and a good twist on the traditional 'werewolf bite' mythology.

I love the deliberate choice to incorporate so many random ruins and remnants of things in the background of shots. Not just the 'dilapidated stone buildings' that the characters camp in, but things like the trio of carved faces that Egwene and Perrin run past while fleeing the Whitecloaks, or the boundary stones Mat and Rand pass on the road, or even just the small carvings and pillars scattered about the cave where they are holding Logain. It all helps to make you feel that ancientness, that brokenness of this world more effectively.

The reoccurring use of the Dragon's Fang to symbolize violence and destruction: the Trollocs using it as a scare tactics, it appearing in the blood in the pool after Nynaeve kills the Trolloc, being burned into Siuan's ruined childhood home....and the way that contrasts with it's use in the finale episode, when we see it whole and unbroken in the seal/yin yang symbol for the first time was really really clever. One of my friends actually gasped out loud and went 'oh' at the first shot of the whole seal when it clicked.

The show does an exceedingly good job of maintaining that core idea of the series that it's about our relationship to violence- violence never being casual or simple or easy, but always raw, hard and bloody and a little bit ugly. EVen subtle things like the way the show depicts Moraine hurling stones at the Trollocs with uncomfortable frankness, trying to literalize what in most fantasy media would be an abstract. Take it from I cast stone 2, to I inflict horrible blunt force trauma on another creature. And of course everything re: Perrin and his ax.

I have more thoughts, but I think I'll save some of them for after we watch season 1, because they relate strongly to stuff from there.

[scoobydoodean]

I just perused your tags about Dean’s narrative heart, and Sam’s motivations, and I’ve been full of thinky thoughts. There’s nothing to really disagree with in your premise, but I am trying to piece that together with something external to the story.

I knew before I watched the first episode that Sam was The Chosen One, but I didn’t really start watching until s12, and had some catching up to do. So I’m trying to wrap my head around making your Chosen One act so… morally grey. It’s a risky move, but I feel like if Kripke’s story had enough to keep us all so fascinated more than a decade after his personal involvement, maybe there’s a deeper reason Sam seems so young.

Maybe that’s just it, though. Whatever we think we know about his childhood, and Dean’s parentification, Sam is only 22. He’s not sheltered, but he is still maturing.I’m showing my creaky bones here, but to me, Sam behaves consistently with his age group. BUT he’s deliberately not presented against a backdrop of college kids, and Dean leaning into the macho party boy in the first few years sort of deflects from that, like sleight of hand.

And so Sam sliding from the Chosen One straight into addictive behaviours does make a strange kind of sense, because there’s part of the wound the addiction is patching up.

I’m sorry for rambling into your inbox, but I’m pretty interested in your thoughts on this.

I think maybe it helps to know that one of Kripke's influences was Star Wars and to consider this through that lens. Dean was partly based on Han Solo, and Sam was partly based on Luke Skywalker. Luke matures over the course of the original Star Wars trilogy, but he had some growing to do between episode IV and episode VI (and the fact that he has matured is something the characters specifically make note of in the jump from "The Empire Strikes Back" to "Return of the Jedi".

I also think it's reasonable to think Kripke decided to take Sam in a sort of hybrid Luke/Anakin direction after he completed the pilot (Star Wars Episode III where Anakin turns to the dark side came out in May of 2005, and Supernatural began airing that Fall). Playing out the Chosen One trope with Sam, in a Star Wars context means that him going grey and then dark is exactly what you want, because that's exactly what happens with Star Wars' Chosen One, Anakin. When we consider that the only people actually calling Sam The Chosen One in Supernatural are demons... well. Sam, the "chosen one", is actually destined to be used by the dark side (demons). He just doesn't know that in season 4 (or doesn't believe it).

In Star Wars, anger and hatred are considered primary tools of The Dark Side. Anger and hatred are big motivating factors for Sam in season 3 (where he really starts to turn morally grey) and 4, and season 5 is in some sense supposed to be about Sam maturing and learning to let go of some of his anger because it's something Lucifer (The Dark Side) can use (5.10, 5.11, 5.20). I'm not a big fan of anger being treated as "the bad emotion", but it is a big deal in Star Wars, and it helps make sense of what it means for Sam to have a chosen one storyline over the first 5 seasons.

Within that whole framework, there's also definitely a lot about growing up and becoming more mature (like Luke Skywalker did) and the tension of whether the protagonist will be consumed—essentially—by the ghost of his father (just like Vader initially tried to lead Luke to the dark side).

There's an intersection somewhere in this ask with "being the main character" I think? But I don't actually consider Sam to be the sole lead of Supernatural. From a story perspective, that simply hasn't ever been true whether Kripke intended it or not (and I don't even think he did. I think Sam functions as the sole lead in the pilot episode just like Hughie functions as the sole lead in the pilot for The Boys as a relatable vehicle for the audience to be introduced to the world. After that, we get Butcher and Homelander and everyone else and realize it's an ensemble show). Beyond the pilot, there is simply nothing that materially or narratively distinguishes Sam as a sole lead beyond Jared's name being first on the call sheet. He doesn't get more screen time than Dean (Dean gets more in almost every season and there are several episodes Sam is barely in), Sam doesn't get more dialogue than Dean, the found family does not center around Sam (it centers around his brother). He isn't even centered as the most competent fighter in action sequences. I don't say that to suggest Sam isn't a lead, but that seasons 1-5 are about Sam and Dean, and both are leads, which means Sam can be morally grey and even unlikeable at times (and so can Dean) as long as the brothers contrast/oppose one another in those circumstances so the audience doesn't become totally alienated. If Sam was actually the sole lead in any material way, they wouldn't have had the space to explore Sam's "dark side" this deeply, I think. At least not without entirely reframing what kind of story Supernatural is/what it's about.