#I can’t help but feel like the dissonance once he’s out and is being treated as ultimate hope and he starts to noticeably change

[makotonaegiunderstander]

going to tear my room apart thinking about how Makoto Naegi genuinely is a normal guy. Even more so in the games where he doesn’t quite have the same explosion he does in the anime adaption— he made up his mind before the trial even started that he wasn’t going to give up no matter what happened to him because his friends had given their last trying to live, and he had to survive for them. He didn’t see surviving but choosing despair as surviving, he wanted to do what they entered the room prepared to do, he wanted to fulfill the declaration he made when he survived his execution: as long as he was alive, as long as he was breathing, he wasn’t going to give up. He saw Junko, he saw everything she presented, and he’d already felt that utter despair. He had the chance to give in as early as Mukuro’s first trial, where he could have chosen to suspect Kirigiri. But he refused to be manipulated anymore, he refused to play the game, even if it meant everything he had, and that’s where he changed from hiding to fighting. When he made the decision to hide Kirigiri’s lie (he did NOT know he was going to die, actually!!! He thought they’d be able to work out the trap bc there was never a time limit before that trial!! That said it’s still incredible that he refused to break even when he realized it would cost him his life.) that was when he broke from his fear completely. That was when he officially bowed out of the game. He wouldn’t be subject to the game’s demands anymore, he was going to win no matter what. He chose to have reckless faith in his friends no matter what, he chose to pursue a truth that would end the game for good. It’s not entirely normal for anyone to do, for sure, but that doesn’t mean he was the only one capable. I’ve said that before in a previous post, that Makoto didn’t do anything that was impossible for any other person. Just like despair was innate in every person and everyone was capable of it, so was hope. That’s what Makoto brought out. But even he stumbled. Even he needed his friends there. And the other survivors are the ones that took Makoto’s prompt and used it to break free of Junko’s influence, Makoto didn’t force them to. He didn’t brainwash them or manipulate them or do anything to influence their thoughts any more than reminding them hope was still there for them, that it wasn’t over yet. They did the rest themselves.

And then they left, and the title Ultimate Hope got away from them all, into a world ideologically influenced by Junko’s despair, and in its absence after her death, it latched into the next powerful force one to replace what it has lost, but it needed a figurehead. So Makoto was chosen, as the one that refused to submit in the face of Junko. He was viewed as an ultimate, elevated, the world placed on his shoulders, and the same wave that brought about the Tragedy turned towards Makoto. People may have needed something to hold onto that felt as powerful as what they’d been facing, but Makoto wasn’t the only one that fought, and he wasn’t possessing some inhuman ability to always resist despair or anguish. Makoto is both exceptional in his determination and stubbornness to keep moving forward and being optimistic, and also not in the slightest, because it isn’t a talent. It isn’t an ultimate ability, it isn’t something no one else can measure up to. His uniqueness comes from his ability to choose that even if he’s standing alone. But, like I said, he’s not immune, he’s not incapable of falling. He will just do everything in his power to resist up until the end, because that’s the decision he made.

It’s weird how he’s Schrödinger’s normal. He’s the most normal guy in the world, but his view of himself as such is also flawed. He isn’t nothing. In fact one could say it’s abnormal that he’s so normal. And he DOES have something that is unique about him, even he can’t deny that fact despite trying to downplay it. He’s optimistic. He’s chosen to try and be positive or at the very least choose to keep going forward in life. That IS abnormal to an extent, despite not being some ultimate, or something no one else is capable of. It is abnormal to never entertain the idea of slowing down, getting bored, or giving up. But at the same time, Makoto DID have moments like that in the game. The only time he really stopped doing that was in the final chapter, when he was pushed to his absolute limit and those parts of him exaggerated themselves so that he could feel like he could survive. He’s the weirdest normal guy alive, I guess.

Anyway I’m rambling and this probably doesn’t make sense bc I pulled an all nighter for the final class trial but I’m losing my mind over Makoto Naegi all the time

[pierrotwrites-hc]

Hi Periott

I'm loving the new chapters of TGB but was wondering if you could give me some insight into Toby and his development because I found him quite infuriating in the last chapter

“Does that fat arse of yours need a rest, Toby?” “Watch your tongue, slave,” the Steward, bouncing over on his gray gelding, “or when we return to Highcourt, I shall personally ensure that you lose it.”

Is there a reason Toby never stands up for Doran? Like that's his brother. I'm curious, does Toby even see Doran as an actual person? What exactly is his mentality around slavery? And how does he not experience cognitive dissonance when he witnesses the injustices that happen to Connoll and his brother?

“Do you think we’ll be able to see each other once we’re at Highcourt?” asked Toby suddenly. “To play Legion, and talk about mathematics, and—well, just to talk, the way we are now?”

Is he seriously that naive and disconnected from the reality of things? Does he really believe that Luca is gonna have any form of freedom where their going? He knows Luca is a sex slave.

“Do you want to be a slave, Toby? Do you want to sleep on the ground and eat table scraps and get beaten like a dog whenever your master’s in a mood?” “No.” “No, of course not. You just like hanging around with slaves because we can’t tell you to fuck off. Fields of hell, do you care what’s going to happen to Luca once we get to Highcourt? Or to me and Con once we get back to Chesten? Your mam could sell us to the galleys, or the mines, or split us up and send us to opposite corners of the fucking earth. We could never see each other again. But you don’t give a damn about that, do you? Great and little gods, you must be the most selfish boy alive.” Toby’s face was mottled red and white. He was holding back tears. “That’s not very nice of you to say,” he said, in a voice that trembled with the effort not to cry.

YES! I am so glad Doran said this. Like from this interaction it's clear Toby is aware that being a slave is bad/not nice and yet he seems to have no lasting thoughts on the experiences of and consequences for those that are enslaved. And when Doran confronts him and brings up valid points, Toby makes it about himself by crying and acting like his feelings are hurt instead of acknowledging what Doran has pointed out or reflecting on things.

“Doran hates me,” Toby sobbed. “He’ll never forgive me for whipping him, never.”

I feel like the only reason Toby was upset about Doran's whipping is because he had to do it and it was an unpleasant experience for him. It feels like it had nothing to do with Doran's experience/suffering at all. And now all he's worried is forgiveness when he knows Doran's been whipped in the past and will continue to be whipped in the future because he's a slave.

He isn't naive and he's aware of how privileged he is because he's witnessed how those below him live and are treated. But he never seems to use his privilege or social standing to protect/help others, not even Doran. And ye only got rid of the letters summoning Luca back to Highcourt because he didn't want to lose his legion partner, not because he actually cares about Luca as a person.

I'm sorry lol. I love Toby but his privilege and selfishness really irks be sometimes, and I'd love to here your thoughts about him and any information you can give us about his reasonings and motivations (if it isn't too spoilery)

thank you so much for sending this ask. it was actually sent in response to ch 45 but I want to answer it now because ch 46 is an incredibly important milestone in Toby's development as a Good Human.

Is there a reason Toby never stands up for Doran?

yes, though it's a pretty selfish one. Toby grew up watching Doran be (relatively) well-treated and protected by their father. Doran was beaten and talked down to, sure, but that treatment was so normalized for slaves that Toby didn't really spare it much thought. note that when he intervenes on Luca's behalf with Hodge, it's because Hodge's behavior goes beyond even the treatment of slaves that Toby accepts as "normal."

Toby doesn't stand up for Doran because it hasn't occurred to him that Doran needs standing up for -- or that anyone would listen to Toby if he tried.

Does Toby even see Doran as an actual person? What exactly is his mentality around slavery?

Toby does see Doran (and Connell, and Luca) as real people in the way he sees everyone as real people...which means that he's mostly interested in how they relate to him rather than how other people/society in general relate to them. he's 19, but due to his incredibly sheltered and dysfunctional upbringing, his mentality is still very much that of a child. i want to emphasize that this has nothing to do with being autistic. he was just raised by pathologically selfish people and who gave him a pathologically selfish outlook on the world, and nothing in his privileged upbringing has forced him to challenge his assumptions until now.

How does he not experience cognitive dissonance when he witnesses the injustices that happen to Connoll and his brother?

the same reason we don't experience cognitive dissonance around so many of the injustices in our world. think of Ed Sheeren installing rails outside his mansion to keep the unhoused away despite having slept rough himself before making it big. Toby seems like a really extreme case because the things he accepts as normal -- e.g., slavery and abuse -- are so abnormal to us, and seem so self-evidently evil, but he's never had a reason to interrogate the conditions of his very comfortable life before. forced discomfort is going to be his greatest teacher.

Is he seriously that naive and disconnected from the reality of things?

unfortunately, yes.

Does he really believe that Luca is gonna have any form of freedom where their going? He knows Luca is a sex slave.

Toby knows Luca's a sex slave, but his only context for that is his father's relationship with Doran's mother Cilla -- who was, as Connell pointed out, treated more like his wife than his actual wife. too, slaves from Chesten have quite different lives than slaves from Lyonesse. i cover that in more detail here, but suffice it to say that Toby has very real understanding of what sex slavery really involves. he assumes that Luca will be treated at Highcourt more or less the way Cilla was, with a relatively high degree of personal freedom.

Toby is aware that being a slave is bad/not nice and yet he seems to have no lasting thoughts on the experiences of and consequences for those that are enslaved. And when Doran confronts him and brings up valid points, Toby makes it about himself by crying and acting like his feelings are hurt instead of acknowledging what Doran has pointed out or reflecting on things.

you really hit the nail on the head here. as Toby has said a few times in a few different ways, he's very good at not thinking about things that upset him...and when forced to, his instinctive response is that of a child: he manipulates people into comforting him. it isn't a conscious manipulation, and it isn't malicious, but it is really, really selfish, and something he'll need to unlearn.

I feel like the only reason Toby was upset about Doran's whipping is because he had to do it and it was an unpleasant experience for him. It feels like it had nothing to do with Doran's experience/suffering at all. And now all he's worried is forgiveness when he knows Doran's been whipped in the past and will continue to be whipped in the future because he's a slave.

yep.

He isn't naive and he's aware of how privileged he is because he's witnessed how those below him live and are treated. But he never seems to use his privilege or social standing to protect/help others, not even Doran. And ye only got rid of the letters summoning Luca back to Highcourt because he didn't want to lose his legion partner, not because he actually cares about Luca as a person.

you really nail Toby's character here, and it's a great description of where his arc starts. he has immense privilege which he takes completely for granted, and immense intelligence which he uses only for his own benefit. he genuinely loves Doran and Connell and Luca, but he will need to do a lot of work on himself before he can love them as well as they deserve. [spoilers maybe?] in Chapter 48 (so, two chapters in the future, since Ch47 will be a Robert chapter) we see Toby begin that work in earnest, and it will continue throughout Part III and in all the books which follow.

<3

[between-the-lines-fic]

Family Roles/Powers Translation (Between the Lines AU)

In Between the Lines, the Madrigals may not have their miracle, but they’re no less gifted! Let’s go down the family tree! Grandkids are under the Read More for everyone’s sanity.

Alma Madrigal is the matriarch of the family, a retired, famous opera singer from the 1970′s that made a name for the Madrigals in the classical arts. She expects only the best from her family, especially since the family is known to be musically talented.

Julieta is less inclined towards the stage, but no less vital. She personally prefers to help with production, working as a stage manager and ensuring that the staff are all taking care of themselves. She has a powerful voice, though she doesn’t prefer the spotlight.

Pepa was practically made for the stage, and she’s known to be a whirlwind performance by most reviewers. Her singing is powerful and emotional, bringing tears to the audience’s eyes. She also is amazing at portraying a range of raw and violent emotion, though her performances leave her feeling worn afterwords.

Bruno is once more the black sheep of the family. Even though he adores acting and singing on stage, he felt stifled by the traditional roles of opera. He also spent quite a bit of time writing and composing new operas for the family to perform before he grew tired of it all. He at first wrote telenovela as a pastime, but grew a real passion for it, submitting his ideas to a production company under a pseudonym. 

Now on from the triplets down to their children! Grandkid roundup~

Dolores has excellent hearing and is pitch perfect, meaning that she’s an absolute asset to the pit orchestra. Most of her time is spent helping conduct during performances, as well as practicing with the main cast to keep their singing in tune. There’s a certain actor she’s had her eye on for a while, but it’s not like the performers ever really visit the orchestra, so its not all sunshine and rainbows.

Isabella is the next upcoming family singer, and is treated like the golden child for her amazing singing chops. She can belt out the loudest and softest of notes, all with beautiful tone. However, sometimes she wishes that she didn’t have to worry about performing at her best all the time, always in tune. Maybe for once, she’d like to perform something gritty, dissonant, purely her. Maybe something like punk rock?

Luisa doesn’t enjoy being on stage much, instead helping Julieta with set design and production. She spends quite a bit of her time helping to build sets and move them around backstage, often manning the ropes to change backgrounds during performances. It’s tiring, truly, and she often thinks about how nice it’d be to just... sit back and enjoy the show instead of doing all the heavy lifting. But she has teams of people depending on her, and she can’t stand to crack under the pressure. The show must go on!

Camilo is training to be another male lead. He also delights in designing costumes, and has a real knack for makeup. However, he look in the mirror and wonders if he’d be happier as the traditional female lead instead. But that’s crazy talk, and it’d probably annoy Abuela. Right?

Mirabel is certainly musically inclined, and she loves writing songs. However, her songs don’t exactly conform with the classical music scene. Whether it be pop, jazz, or rock, it’s not really helping carry on the Madrigal family legacy. She wants to do her family and Abuela proud, but sometimes it feels like it might not be enough, no matter how much Agustín and Julieta tell her otherwise.

Antonio is the baby of the family! He’s learning his first musical steps, and might someday perform as well. But for now, he’s doing his best to learn the ropes while watching his family perform on stage. 

As for Félix and Agustín, they both support the family however they can. Agustin most likely helps with production alongside Julieta, while Félix helps Pepa calm down and prepare for performances. I wouldn’t be surprised if he also got on stage himself as her companion lead!

And that’s the family Madrigal, doot doot doot, now you know about the family Madrigal...

[black-licorice-lingerie]

A Look Into Billy Lenz’s Personality (from the book)

Okay so this is going to be my own interpretation of what we learn in the Black Christmas novelization. Specifically, I’m going to be going over the things Billy says. If you’re a huge fan of Black Christmas, or just Billy Lenz and you wish to learn more about him or the whole story, I highly suggest you go check it out right here: (https://100vampirenovels.net/pdf-novels/black-christmas-by-lee-hays-free).

That being said, let’s take a peak at Billy’s personality:

Based on what my 2 am notes describe, Billy is very much socially awkward as the story makes it clear that Billy really wants to communicate with the sorority house beyond using the telephone. Billy actually HATES using the telephone (shocker I know), but is SO shy at talking with others that he can’t help but hide away and establish a distanced method of speaking. This pretty much tells us that Billy can’t help but be afraid of interacting with other people. Billy’s social ineptitude is even shown near the part where he viciously stabs Barb to death. Upon seeing Jess and Barb talk to each other about nightmares and Peter, Billy is depicted as really longing for the kind of communication Jess and Barb are showing.

Another, but small note on Billy’s personality is that he comes across as a bit judgmental. When Barb picks up the phone and talks to her mom about life and such, she gets a bit sassy in attitude. Billy, of course listening to this, begins to judge Barb for daring to speak to her own mother that way. He’s bewildered from Barb having the courage to speak to her mother, an authority figure, in such a snappy tone. Interestingly enough, this points that Billy knows social standards (how and how not to talk to people), but can’t bring himself to properly talk with people to display his mannerism knowledge.

A BIG aspect of Billy’s personality is, without a doubt, insecurity. When Clare is packing her belongings to leave the sorority house, she suspects that Claude is in the room. She calls out to Claude, calling him names for being a silly pet. Billy, who was hiding in the fucking closet for whatever reason, hears this and actually thinks she’s talking about him. After feeling insulted, Billy lost it and murdered Clare with a plastic bag. The thoughts in his head say that he didn’t mean, or want to murder Clare, but that she “left him no choice” for “bullying” him. Clare’s death is an example of how anxious Billy is about himself, showing how he thought a casual conversation towards a cat was about him. He does NOT like being insulted to the point where he reacts violently. Billy has the urge to drastically “defend” himself when he feels insulted in any way.

Possessiveness also seems to be a personality trait of Billy. After having murdered the shit out of Clare and stashing her body up in the attic, he recognizes her father visiting the sorority house. Obviously, Clare’s father is trying to figure out what the fuck happened to her, but Billy’s annoyed at this. Billy describes Clare (at least her corpse) in a way you’d describe an item. Billy’s irritated at Clare’s father coming about and looking for her, because in Billy’s sick mind (the story in his POV), Clare belongs to him now. So not only is Billy hyper-aggressive when he feels insulted, but he has the sick urge to add insult to injury by “claiming” the body of his victims as his toy-like belongings. Clare “insulted” him, and she “paid” for it. To make himself feel better, Billy takes Clare’s body up into where he’s staying, a twisted mimicry of a child getting a toy, or obtaining a friend. That way, Clare surely won’t “mock” Billy anymore, as he now “owns” her.

However, Billy also has self awareness. The story later begins to show that Billy doesn’t like what his mind forces him to believe, and how he behaves. When Mrs. MacHenry is searching the house for Claude, Billy hopes that she doesn’t reach the attic because once she does, he won’t be able to stop himself. Billy hates this about himself.

In conclusion…Billy is clearly mentally ill. Very, very mentally ill. It’s shown that Billy is aware of how to behave towards others, and does (in fact) have a sense of right and wrong since his murderous actions come back to disgust him. However, he’s also very incapable of properly establishing communication between himself and other people. He’s also violently insecure about himself, along with being possessive towards others. He sees that what he does is awful, and even knows the ins and outs of how one should treat authority figures. 

Billy’s personality is under an attack of cognitive dissonance, leading him to even more stress. Deep down inside, despite the sociopathic behaviors, Billy hates that this is an uncontrollable aspect of his brain. Billy wants to be a normal person, Billy wants to be liked, and he doesn’t want to rely on the telephone just to get issues off of his chest. However, something, or some things happened in Billy’s past if he can’t help but behave so hellacious. Billy was so abused and traumatized by events in his childhood, that despite his morality (self sufficient or taught), he can’t help but put on a fight in the name of defending himself. Whatever ridicule, beating, and verbal abuse Billy encountered has cemented into his brain, establishing a psychological illness that leaves him incapable of navigating unfavorable situations other than “attack, attack, attack”.

Billy not being able to control his horrendous actions points to an error in his mind. However, there are many mental illnesses that create a warped view of reality, and a hindered ability to control oneself. So while Billy definitely suffers from a psychological disorder, it’s impossible to get an idea of what exactly he may have...until we use his phone calls to analyze his history and how his mind interprets it, but we’ll have to save that for later in the day.

Anyways, this was my particular analysis of (1974) Billy Lenz’s personality! I wish you all a good ass week, at least better than how I’m reacting to my online class assignments. Remember, stay a simp for slashers.

[yuzukult]

dissonance (teaser) || jjk & reader

title: dissonance pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, eventual smut (but teaser is smut free baby), fluff, rockstar!jungkook, gradstudent!reader teaser wc: 1,277 | full fic wc: tbd summary: something that first seems out of reach becomes a reality for him. screaming adoring fans, billboards with him and his band plastered on it, and touring across the globe with venues sold out. he has everything... but all he's missing is you. a/n: back at it again !! i honestly didn't think i'd come back with another jungkook fic but... i've always written series' for him so maybe this time lets dabble in a one-shot. :) enjoy this little teaser!

He loves it here. It’s his dream to be here, on the stage, with the feeling of the music rumbling underneath the soles of his chunky boots, the sea of fans screaming and hollering out his name with his self-produced songs booming through the speakers of the venue while his band stands by his side, just as passionate for this as he is.

It’s his dream; he reiterates this constantly as a reminder that this isn’t something everyone gets the chance to breathe the opportunity of. He’s been manifesting this scenario his entire life, wishing and praying to the potential Gods to help make his aspirations become a reality. He’d work his ass off to make ends meet, be able to afford the necessities all while chasing this goal that many claimed to be unrealistic or unattainable. But he’s here right now, supporters that flood the building to the brim for a concert that’s been sold out in thirty cities so far. He has everything he could ever want. Girls, money, music…

But why does he feel… like there’s something missing?

Another pair of panties gets thrown at the toes of his boots—it’s probably the sixth one that night but he’s grown used to this already. In some performances, girls would throw themselves at his feet instead of undergarments, yelling at the top of their lungs so ferociously that the security guards had to hold them back in fear of what they’re capable of. And sure, if he really wanted to, he could ask them out or invite them back to his hotel room for a quick bang, and it was what he’d been doing for the first couple years, and maybe they’ll make him feel a little less like this.

Albeit it doesn’t quite hit the same way anymore.

He’s left with this feeling of emptiness when he says his goodbyes and shuts the door behind them; there’s a gap in his chest like he’s forgotten something, yearning for it to be filled but those girls aren’t the ones to do it. His dreams used to be able to—but what are accomplished dreams when you have no one to share it with?

His friends/band mates are great, supportive and understanding, he’s admitted that he’s gotten lucky in that department, but part of him believes that it’s not friendship he’s lacking.

It’s love.

It sounds sappy to the ears of strangers, especially because ideally, you’re not supposed to depend on love to have that stuffing to the brim emotions in your chest, to feel complete and whole because a pretty person fell for you and vice versa. But to Jungkook, being in love had been something he thought he could toss under the rug for another day when he’d given up the girl he’d be infatuated with for this unobtainable aspiration, yet instead, he finds himself back in the same spot years later. Missing it.

He loved the chase—he’s a hopeless romantic kind of guy. After all, how would all of his songs be so full of raw emotions like that? It’s because Jungkook lives it—or well, lived it because everything he knew about love had been left on a shelf to collect dust. And he’d try to convince himself that he didn’t need someone, but he’d grown… lonely.

And quite frankly, finding someone genuine has proven to be difficult.

Don’t mention Tinder, Jungkook has already tried that. It promptly made headlines the moment he logged into that app with a selfie he’s never used before, and still then people actually thought he was catfishing, and wasn’t the real Jeon Jungkook. He should’ve known. But in all fairness, Jungkook isn’t much of a ‘future thinker.’

Then there was trying to date a staff member—worse idea yet. That noona ended up pissed at him when he realized that this isn’t what he wanted (he’d learn she was quite the control freak) and she flipped shit to the point that his managers fired her on the spot then informed the security that she was on the “do-not-enter” list.

After that, Jungkook just thought maybe he was going about this wrong.

Maybe, women weren’t actually of his interest.

Possibly, he was into men.

So, he tried. He ventured out a little, got a little taste here and there. Jungkook even found someone who fit him perfectly. His name? Kim Hyunwoo.

It worked out for a little, Jungkook admits, because Hyunwoo was overall a great boyfriend. He looked out for Jungkook, treated him well and they shared the same interests overall.

But… that was the problem.

They got along very well. As if they were best friends.

He found himself getting a bit uncomfortable when things got a little too serious—don’t get him wrong though, he honestly wasn’t embarrassed to be dating a guy. Hyunwoo was the definition of a model; handsome, tall with these sharp facial features. He’d been stopped and recruited several times during their dates, and truthfully, it made Jungkook feel a little awkward. He was the celebrity here, yet standing beside Hyunwoo only makes him feel small.

And in all honesty, he shouldn’t feel this way about the success of his significant other. But it wasn’t even just that. He found himself unable to pass first base with the guy—something about the action itself made him feel… discomfort. But he’s attracted to Hyunwoo. So why can’t he push himself to kiss him?

Jungkook learns maybe he finds men appealing but he can’t have more with them.

So, he goes back into the dating game. Met girls all over during his tour stops; he met a foreign girl named Lily, a gorgeous girl with pretty blonde hair and pale skin. But they didn’t click. He oddly felt like they weren’t ever on the same page. Then he went to dinner with a gal named—okay. He forgot her name. But the way her dress hugged her ass made his mind go blank, so could he really be blamed? (The answer is yes.) Oh! What about that girl whose name is similar to a hurricane? She had long, dark hair that matched her lengthy lashes that fluttered over her supple cheeks when she sucked his—

Nonetheless, it’s a dud again. He’s still lonely, he sadly confesses, but all of this is too much for him to process. He’s tired of getting his heart broken. He’s exhausted from meeting girls who first claimed that they’re not obsessed then actually are. He’s worn out of the ones who don’t love him for him, but love him for his fame.

Jungkook just wants to be loved for being… Jungkook.

And when he encounters you, some graduate student who spends majority of her days in between the activities of face dug into a textbook or eyes glued onto a computer screen, he thinks he’s back to where he was before this lifestyle. Jungkook finds himself swooning, desperately wishing for your touch and kisses, but there’s just one thing he doesn’t quite know.

Do you like Jungkook for Jungkook? Or do you like the ideal version of him that sings on stage, tossing off his shirt with his abs flexing while the crowd screams his name once more, all while the veins in his neck pop when he reaches that high note?

Or do you like Jungkook, the one who still doesn’t understand the difference between an orange and clementine, the one who still has trouble knowing when a potato is thoroughly cooked, and why his socks came out of the wash in this weird pinky shade when they definitely went in as white.

So… which is it? Which Jungkook are you interested in?

[iamnmbr3]

Hi. I've been reading threw a number of your posts related to Loki 2021 and the general impression your post give is that you don't like how Loki 2021 has been written and present (which I understand because while Loki is not a favourite character of mine, I want to see his character done justices). And I guess I was just wondering how you would have tackled Loki 2021, using the plot elements that have been established in the show, but with your own spin. Thank you :)

That's a great question! I think the premise actually had a ton of potential. @nikkoliferous and I often talk about all the really cool things that could've been done and why it's so particularly tragic that they wasted all that good story setup. I think there are 3 main types of directions the story could've gone in with this premise (and then a lot of variations within each type).

Direction 1 - A buddy comedy with a heart

So I think this is what they were trying to go for with Loki and Mobius's dynamic based on the narrative framing and how all the interviews have presented Mobius in a positive light. (Though that's not what they actually wrote at all).

The way to do this would be to set Mobius up in a more sympathetic way and put him and Loki on more even footing. They could've had Mobius be almost as much a prisoner as Loki. They could have started out with him being pretty indoctrinated into the TVA worldview, but also being considered expendable. We could've seen his superiors threaten him with deletion if he can't make things work with the Loki Variant. Maybe he even feels some compassion for Loki and convinces his superiors that Loki can be useful and shouldn't be deleted since he's powerless to do anything else and he figures being enslaved is probably better than dying. Loki could actually be in-character and question Mobius's world view etc. And Mobius could to the best of his ability treat him decently instead of smugly mocking and tormenting him.

We could have Loki escape early on and end up bringing Mobius along with him, either by accident or because he realizes Mobius will be killed for losing him and he feels bad about it. Then we have them thrown together by circumstances and they could slowly grow to trust each other over the course of the show. The series could dig into the parallels between them. Loki could point out to Mobius that he repeats the propaganda he's been taught but he's hardly less of a prisoner than Loki and his masters are hypocritical. This could also lead to Loki realizing that while maybe he wanted to tell himself that he was an ally of Thanos's the truth was anything but.

While they're on the run both could start to realize they're experiencing freedom from the first time. Mobius could learn to question the TVA and Loki could realize that maybe he can be himself and doesn't have to be a tool of Odin or Thanos. Loki could could grapple with how much control he had while attacking NYC (thus allowing Disney to leave that a bit open to interpretation without totally sweeping the torture and mind control under the rug) and Mobius could grapple with how complicit he has been in the TVA's horrific actions.

Rather than Loki "learning to be trustworthy" (smh) Loki could learn to trust someone else and that not everyone will betray him. Mobius could also be a stand-in for more casual viewers and slowly realize that Loki isn't just the uncomplicated villain he at first took him for. There could be a nice mix of substantive character drama and entertaining hijinks. And of course in the end they could burn the TVA to the ground and liberate all realities. There's so many variations on this and @nikkoliferous and I often chat about them. Because the show could've been so good! And yet. </3

Direction 2 - The TVA & Mobius are acknowledged as the great villains they are

This is kind of what they're making by accident without acknowledging it which leads to a lot of emotional dissonance in the narrative. In canon the TVA is a horrific organization and Mobius seems happily complicit. He doesn't seem to have any compunctions about supporting their agenda of using murder, genocide, forced labor, enslavement, torture, police brutality, sham trials without due process, and privacy violation to eliminate free will. He happily forced Loki to toil under threat of death, mocks and humiliates him, manipulates him, and participates in acts of torture. He is INCREDIBLY creepy and a great embodiment of the "banality of evil" concept. The TVA is also absolutely terrifying.

If the show actually leaned into that it would create a great sense of narrative tension. Loki has escaped Thanos only to once again fall into the hands of a horrifically evil and powerful enemy. And it's up to him to figure out a way out of this situation and a way to liberate all of reality from their grip. In this scenario it might be useful to introduce some other prisoner characters so that he has some friendlyish faces to interact with...and potentially an army to lead against the TVA after he's won them over and figured out a plan.

Mobius's parallels to Odin and Thanos would work really well here because having Loki eventually defeat him and tell him he doesn't get to tell Loki who he is or make him into a tool of evil would be hugely cathartic. We'd get to see Loki stand up to and defeat someone who parallels the two individuals who have most hurt and manipulated him and decide to make his own way from now on rather than trying to be what others make of him. It would be awesome.

Direction 3 - TVA are twist villains

Some people think this might be the direction the show is going. The problem is that if that's true it'll just fall flat because the TVA is already clearly villainous so there's no twist. In the first episode already we see them commit acts of murder, genocide (wiping out a whole timeline because they believe the beings in that timeline belong to a class - variants - that are unworthy of life), police brutality, trial without due process, privacy violation, torture, and illegitimate imposition of rule (they are not elected in any sense and yet they have appointed themselves the arbiters of reality) all in the service of eliminating free will. That is...not what heroes do.

However they COULD have been good twist villains with just a few tweaks. Maybe they approach Loki and play on his deep yearning to be viewed as good and worthy as well as his self-hatred and poor self image to convince him that an "evil" version of him is wreaking havoc and they need his help. Maybe they also sweeten the deal by offering him protection from Thanos and the Black Order since he has no idea they are dead in this timeline. (If you wanted to keep audiences more in the dark you could have them just talk about the Black Order so that audiences at first assume they are still hunting Loki even tho Thanos is dead and don't realize the TVA is manipulating Loki).

At first they don't do anything overtly evil. The authoritarian aesthetic would seem like a humorous parody of office culture. It would then take on a new, much more sinister meaning when the TVA get's revealed as evil later and we learn that they obliterate entire timelines, murder people for the slightest infractions, don't view variants as people, and want to eliminate free will. Mobius could either appear first as a friend and then get revealed as a villain or have a redemption arc where he ends up siding with Loki.

Also for all of these scenarios the script and characterization should be good. I should see Loki, not Larry his dumb lookalike cousin. The script should have Loki doing and saying things that are in-character. (Which certainly doesn't preclude humor since Loki's wit is one of his most iconic features!)

[cant-think-of-anything]

I think part of the reason that there’s such a dissonance between what kind of character Matthew is ~supposed~ to have and what kind of poor traits shine through, especially in his treatment of Alastair, is not just because of CC’s poor handling of alcoholism (and, in my opinion, mental health issues and depression) but also because: Our first introduction to these characters happened a long ways before some major changes to TLH.

Namely… Alastair and Cordelia were basically white in CC’s original planning. There’s just no way around that. Their flower cards, where they’re not just whitewashed but purely white, prove that (and they STILL haven’t been updated, by the way.)

Also, Alastair’s hair: in CoG it was dyed blond, and CC wrote it off implicitly as a racism thing when she decided he was Persian (which I guess happened after the short story where we met Alastair and before TLH) , which would have been fine it if it was an arc written better. Except, I don’t think she realized that it would make Matthew’s comments about Alastair inherently and obviously racist, being a white author. And I doubt that it will be dealt with and named or even acknowledged outright in the final TLH installment.

Kind of the same thing with Cordelia. I’m not saying POC can’t have like red hair because obviously POC don’t come in a prepackaged set of five or six traits that are all configured randomly, but something has always rubbed me the wrong way about the way that CC writes the majority of her POC and especially WOC as exotic. I mean, Kamala as a character is to me a special favorite (even though CC did her dirty and didn’t do a good job portraying her character or intersectional identity) but I rolled my eyes so hard when she had lighter brown or “amber” eyes in canon or officially commissioned art. With Cordelia, I know CC once said she uses henna to redden her hair which is great for her, and I guess I have less of a bone to pick with that because it’s semi(?) realistic, but still. Also the fact that so much of her description as a beautiful person comes from her hair. Again that’s cool, and women of color should be loved wholly including being loved for the parts of them that they freely change (such as Cordelia’s hair) but… the proportion of the fixation on her hair as what makes her lovely rubs me the wrong way sometimes. I feel like it’s sometimes an out from CC making the ~scandalous~ decision that a woman of color can be beautiful because of the traits she is born with. Idk it’s just for me I had this long standing repulsion towards my colorings and my facial structure and white girls would tell me I was whiny about it and then I finally began to piece together things like “Eurocentric beauty standards.”

Going on a tangent slightly, but something else that bothered me was when Anna insulted Cordelia after buying her those dresses and everyone kinda treating it as a compliment? And just cause Cordelia, a fictional teenager, didn’t get mad about it doesn’t mean readers of color can’t see the underlying racism behind “Cordelia looks MUCH better in these dresses which are SUITED for her skin tone.”

I think that narrative could have been handled much better: if it was Cordelia picking out her own clothes as an act of maturity and self-realization and ownership, if Cordelia herself said (in a different way lol) “Damn right I can wear lavender ruffles if I want to and crimp my hair but I’m not going to let white fashion prevent me from outshining everyone because dark skinned women INVENTED jewel tones.” And I think some people will argue that Cordelia’s context makes this too self aware of a development but I would say that it would have been a powerful part of her development outside of her relationships, especially considering that she’s supposed to be a main protagonist. Full arcs for the win baby!

But even aside from all that what bothered me about Anna’s dresses was the fact that it was a white woman showing the “truth” or the “right way” or “saving” a woman of color, a trope which I don’t think CC intended but committed nonetheless. I think from a white author POV the thinking was “Anna is such a free bohemian who lives true to herself and she’s going to help Cordelia become that way too,” which irks me because I feel like that just worked against CC in terms of POC rep and also because that same ideology is used in an attempt to make Anna’s treatment of Kamala justified even though Anna as an out person, with racial and economic privilege and the support of an extensive and powerful family network, pressured and tormented Kamala into coming out.

I have a lot of thoughts on that relationship, mainly: it shouldn’t have been dragged out this long because from the beginning, Every Exquisite Thing, it was clear they were looking for different things. And if CC had left it at that and let them go on their separate ways after a week of knowing each other that would have been fine: Kamala can’t do an out and proud relationship and Anna doesn’t want secrecy, so they’ll develop on their own. And then later Kamala’s pursuit of Anna in the actual TLH books was I think meant to be a thing about “the lengths you’ll go for true love” but it felt forced. Honestly… It just feels icky. like this woman of color is just so hung up on this white woman who abuses her repeatedly and can’t handle her own misogyny and internalizations. And I hate that because both had such awesome potential! To me it’s less that I dislike Anna ( I’d need a whole other post to explain that) and more that I dislike CC for wanting so bad to claim sapphic rep but not wanting to put in the effort to portray it effectively- and pretty much all that entails is writing the relationship without acting like it exists in a pseudo-vacuum where the history and realities of interracial relationships and queerphobia don’t exist in the way we obviously recognize and experience.

And characters like Cordelia and Alastair are amazing and have so much potential; I think the true origin of the problems with their portrayal is that they weren’t really intended as POC or even queer representation in the first place. I don’t know if Cassie would have taken a different approach to her characterization had she known Alastair would be a brown gay man when she first introduced him, but I hope it would have at least made her more conscientious of the inherent application of colonialism and racism in her storytelling from that point onward.

I want to finally add that I’m not saying any portrayal of racism is bad. I’m saying that the racism in the story is not part of a conscious framework that critiques racism appropriately. I think CC wrote the beginnings of the narrative, decided she was going to develop the diversity point content, and then either didn’t look back at the older content to analyze it and the other (white characters) through a new lens of race and outsiderness and queer personhood, or she looked at it and didn’t know what to do with it, or looked at it and didn’t care.

Sorry this got so long! Thanks for listening.

- A.

I feel like CC handled everything poorly in regards to characters who had a lot of potential.

The fact that Cordelia and Alastair are both originally white and it's so obvious in the way every bit of racism is handled by the characters. Matthew's comments in CLS are very important and they should've been handled with the same severity that Alastair's words were. CC changing the characters to POC was a big decision and when she did so she should've went back and actually read her own material. I can assure you that it will not be handled in CHOT, my expectations for CC recognizing the importance and gravity in the words she writes regarding racism or any of her "implied racism" bullshit have gone to the ground.

Because while golden eyes are obviously so easy to write when discussing discrimination obviously racism is out of the question /j

THAT'S EXACTLY IT, women of color in these books are so pathetically rare that on the rare occurrence that she does write them they should all be given these features that aren't as common in POC and written as more beautiful because of those features. I read CHOG after I became more appreciative of my ethnic features but if I had read this a year or so ago? Or even if I had read it after just feeling insecure in general? It would've been awful. The implication is that the lighter features in POC are the most beautiful, with Cordelia's red hair being put on a higher pedestal than her dark eyes and Kamala's eyes being focused on more than her hair (because I literally went back and counted the numbers to prove it and it's exactly what happens.)

I'm sure Cordelia's hair is stunning, but it's the way that when she's described (or more accurately being sexualized) it is just her hair and body that is shown, not the color of her skin or the color of her eyes.

God the pastel thing pisses me off so much. It's not even that Anna tells Cordelia that she would look better in darker colors it's that she says it suits her skin tone. Implying that anyone with brown skin should be barred from wearing pastels. And Kamala? In the few times she is described, she's wearing dark colors or champagne gold, never light blue or purple or pink WHICH HONESTLY SUITS HER PERSONALITY. It's also the way that the dresses Anna sent her are described to be more revealing- it's weird. Anna barely knew her when she started dictating everything that Cordelia could put on her body.

“Damn right I can wear lavender ruffles if I want to and crimp my hair but I’m not going to let white fashion prevent me from outshining everyone because dark skinned women INVENTED jewel tones.”

I literally would have loved that. It recognizes that she doesn't need to follow these "rules" on what to wear but still shows her choosing what she wants to wear without making all the darker skinned readers feel like they can't wear a certain color.

I think what some people fail to realize is that these books are also aimed at upper elementary and middle school and a middle schooler with dark skin reading something like that? In a book with characters they love? It's going to be so harmful

Someone else mentioned that CC said Kamanna's relationship was complicated because Kamala didn't defend Anna: Defend her FROM WHAT? Literally what is there to threaten Anna?

These books are filled with tokenism and then praised for it. The idea of Kamala X Anna has so much potential but they're portrayed in such a toxic way. Throughout the last through books Kamala puts herself through so much guilt and regret and turmoil just for Anna to literally use her, blame her, and cast her aside. And it's so fucking annoying because it pushes this idea that this woman of color who was terrified and in an extremely vulnerable position is in the wrong for choosing her safety and presents them as guilty and shameful for doing such a thing.

I would disagree, the portrayal of racism is bad, because it is used at random points in the story and never brought up again, if you interduce racism take it seriously it's not the kind of thing you're meant to half-ass in a book thousands of people will read

I agree on everything else though, so much of these books are incredibly harmful and they are presented to a young audience so it's overall just a gross situation

Thank you for the ask though! I loved answering this, if you ever have anything else you're more than welcome to come back <3

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 1

-no hate (this is merely my humble opinion) but i strongly dislike tom hughes as tom riddle, and here’s why-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

Just personally, this fancast induces a lot of cognitive dissonance for me, but this is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and articulate properly why it always throws me for a loop.

Now, does he fit the visual/aesthetic archetype?

Yes. I understand completely why people like this fancast. We know that he is studious, intellectual, and (at the time people generally fancast him for) involved in the criminal underground, and he more-or-less fits the physical description.

And, to be clear, it’s not that I don’t think Tom Hughes could play Tom Riddle, it’s that I don’t think the character he plays in the fancasts is a close enough approximation of Tom Riddle.

For me, herein lies the issue.

Tom Riddle’s character is all about the emotions bubbling under the surface. He’s a disaster waiting to happen -- he’s angry, he’s lonely, he wants revenge, he feels empty and hopeless and desperate, he’s irrational...

Not sure what movie/show the Tom Hughes clips come from, but the character he plays isn’t that at all. the character he plays is very self-possessed, poised, self-aware. Reflective. Remorseful (there are clips of him crying when/after he shoots someone). Introspective. 

That, to me, is not Tom Riddle at all. 

Yes, he does deal with moral conflict, but it’s never at the forefront of his mind. It’s not something he’s constantly grappling with. He doesn’t really... brood in this Hamlet-esque way.

Tom doesn’t think. Sure, he plans, he ruminates, he rationalizes a posteriori. But he’s very unaware of himself (in fact, it’s one of his fatal flaws). It’s not that he doesn’t have emotions; just that his internal state is a mystery most of the time.

He doesn’t connect with his own emotions; he is completely estranged from them. Tom cannot tell you whether he is happy or sad (not just because of his pride). He keeps his emotions and moral compass (which are highly uncomfortable things), in a locked little box, swallows the key, and disregards them. And yet, this character connects so deeply with his emotions that even the audience can see exactly what he’s going through. 

(There’s an openness -- an ease of vulnerability -- that Tom Riddle doesn’t have)

The thing about Tom, is that he hates himself just as much as he hates everyone around him. Creating Horcruxes to save himself from death is not an act of self-love, or even narcissism to the extreme; instead, forcibly ripping your own soul seven times is the most literally and metaphorically self-destructive thing a person could possibly do.

"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction —"

If we go all the way back to Book 1, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, you’ll remember that the eponymous material (first described in the Epic of Gilgamesh) is capable of producing the Elixir of Life, a magical substance that makes its drinker immortal, as long as you have a steady supply. Not only that, but according to the beliefs of historical alchemists (such as Nicholas Flamel), it was capable of curing any disease. In the alchemical tradition, it symbolized perfection, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss.

If all Tom Riddle was concerned about was prolonging his life, this is the obvious (and better) option.

Here’s the alchemical symbol of the Philosopher’s Stone. Looks kind of like the Deathly Hallows symbol, right? It represents the interplay of the (at the time, believed) four elements of matter -- a sort of periodic table, if you will.

The mature Philosopher’s Stone was believed to be a red stone (for making gold), and the immature one a white stone (for making silver). Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, anyone??

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry. "Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?"

And Dumbledore responds:

"But there are several reasons why, I think, a Sorcerer's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort.”

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain the immortality. Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable...”

And while, yes, he did try to steal it rather than make it, I am sure that in the time it took Tom to make all of his Horcruxes, he could have learned enough alchemy to produce it for himself (or wheedled the information out of Nicholas Flamel). While Dumbledore hypothesizes that it’s because Tom hates feeling dependent, this must be irony, because he spends the first book as a literal parasite, the next three as a virtually helpless creature, and the remainder still reliant on his Horcruxes.

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

But, like me, Dumbledore is making guesses at Tom Riddle’s internal state, and in this case, I think, he’s made an oversight. Horcruxes make him equally as dependent as the Philosopher’s Stone would have. It’s been established in canon that you cannot make yourself immortal without help; either you rely on the continued existence of your Horcruxes or your supply of the Elixir.

And while the Elixir represents the positive aspects of eternal life, like renewal, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of the universe (see above the ouroboros of Cleopatra the Alchemist, one of the four women who knew how to make the philosopher's stone), a Horcrux is antithetical to life. It represents disorder, and once the creator of Horcruxes dies, they are unable to move on from Limbo -- shut out of the cycle. Harry describes Tom’s mangled soul as looking like a flayed and mutilated baby -- permanently immature and stagnant.

This theme of destruction is furthered by the Golden Trio’s discussion on how to reverse the process:

Ron: "Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?"

Hermione: "Yes, but it would be excruciatingly painful."

Harry: "Why? How do you do it?"

Hermione: "Remorse. You've got to really feel what you've done. There’s a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

With this in mind, we can surmise that Tom is either (a) impatient, which we know he is not (b) there was some deeper reason for favouring Horcruxes -- so, yes, I believe that either metaphorically or literally, this was self-harming behaviour.

He takes on the name of Lord Voldemort because he hates himself, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He hates the Muggle part of himself so much that he’s willing to tear apart his entire being. 

"Voldemort, is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

If that isn’t renouncement of himself, I don’t know what is. He was clearly not born Voldemort.

While of course, this does NOT excuse ANY of his actions, I find it vastly implausible that the likes of Malfoy, Mulciber, Carrow, etc... would have been welcoming in any way, shape or form to an assumed ‘Mudblood’ in scruffy secondhand robes from a London orphanage, and as such, indoctrinated him into his fanatic belief in blood-purity via antagonizing him. 

(Imagine Hermione, but poor and without parents, in the 1930s/40s. She would not have been treated well in Slytherin, either.)

Children are more vicious than you think. And while Tom probably gave as good as he got at Wool’s Orphanage (and was possibly an active aggressor himself), Hogwarts wouldn’t have been a level playing-field. (I’ll talk a bit about this and the significance of the Gaunt Ring in Part 2).

In other terms, I think Tom was bullied for having dubious origins. That’s often the swiftest way to radicalize someone, and would have left Tom with a crippling sense of self-hatred that I don’t think he would have even picked up from the orphanage.

(And it’s possibly this early experience with relational aggression that results in his constant need to be on the offensive/defensive, distrust of others, and fear of vulnerability. To me, this is an archetypal response of someone who was a past victim of bullying.)

Why else would an extremely powerful half-blood subscribe so strongly to those beliefs? (Rather than discriminating via amount of raw power or something -- because what Tom is immensely proud of when Dumbledore meets him is his ability, not his parentage). But I digress.

Now, Tom Riddle is never, ever quietly menacing like this. The mask is either completely on or completely off. We never see this character angry. Tom Riddle, when the mask slips off, is fury incarnate. Anger is the one emotion he doesn’t find weak; the one emotion he’s completely and utterly honest with.

Besides, that brings me to my next point. Tom’s not quite so austere. In fact, he’s quite witty, and often quite pleased with himself.

Just look at the difference in their body language. Tom has much more fluidity (he’s circling Harry, the head-tilt, the eyebrows move and he smiles a bit) than the other character, who has so much tension. Yes, they’re both menacing, but in completely different ways. Tom is comfortable with his actions, no matter how shitty they are. This other guy doesn’t like doing what he’s doing, but he’s going to do it, anyway.

Contrasted with the above, Tom’s unawareness of himself is such that we end up with a character who has a bizarre mix of extreme self-hatred and high self-esteem -- he always believes he is in the right -- in this case, doing Salazar Slytherin’s noble work -- while going to extreme, self-destructive lengths, such as tearing himself in half at the mere age of sixteen.

So, sorry... I kind of get the appeal, but... I don’t like the fancast. 

(More unpopular opinions coming at 5:30 PM EDT tomorrow!)

[bloodypapercut]

common people (g.w. x reader)

hi loves! i’ve been listening to pulp so much and everytime common people plays i immediately think of george so i wanted to write something. i hope you all enjoy! <3

(requests are open)

word count: 2.8k

No prank, no act of mischief, no joke had ever managed to coerce the feelings that resided within George at that moment. The memory had been playing in his head for weeks since that day in Hogsmeade. The vivid image of her nose and cheeks dusted pink as snowflakes landed in her hair, her hand gripping at paper bag from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, and her hair whipping around her. He was consumed by her being, she radiated a sense of comfort and warmth that George had never felt from a complete stranger. She intrigued him in every imaginable way, he wanted to know everything about her, each sense in his body was heightened simply by being in her wake. It was the way she carried herself, something about it just seemed so different and enticing. He contemplated going up to her, but he knew with Fred right by his side it would not end well. So he watched from afar, unaware of Fred repeatedly kicking snow in his direction, a mediocre attempt on his behalf to capture his attention so they could go to Zonko’s.

It was breakfast, the bustle of knives and forks against plates, teaspoons against teacups, and the early morning chatter saturated with frivolous morning civility integrated into the usual dissonance of the great hall. George couldn’t bother to act interested in the conversation Fred and Lee tried to reel him into, whatever it was they were talking about was insipid compared to what he had in mind. Pushing around the strawberries on his plate with his fork, his head lulled against his palm, an attempt to subtly survey the room in order to find that girl from all those weeks ago. He’d seen her roaming the halls occasionally, or sitting hunched over a book quietly scribbling on a piece of parchment, or speaking in hushed tones to her housemates, none of it had helped his undying curiosity. She plagued his thoughts, he could relate almost anything to her somehow, despite the fact he had not once spoken to her. She was an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to know everything about her, to learn every habit, every favorite, and every detail.

He brought his cup of orange juice closer to his lips but as he looked around the room once again he saw her. She was leaving the great hall, a leather bag hanging on her shoulder loosely and a pile of books resting against her hip. There it was, that overwhelming cloak of emotions resting on his shoulders once again. Without thinking he rushed to her, no plan present in his mind.

“Hey, hi.” He panted, planted his hand against a pillar trying to catch his breath. She spun quickly, nearly dropping her books. As her gaze cast down at the hunched boy, she wondered what on earth he was doing saying hi to her, or if it was even directed at her.

“Hello? Um are you alright, you look a little red?”

“All for you love.” He winked, still struggling to steady his respiration. Her laugh was just as awkward as the situation and she tried her hardest to divert her attention to anything but the ginger in front of her. The crumbling stone walls, the rusty nails that the portraits hung on, the ornate handles on the classroom doors, she tried but she couldn’t. Because she was just as enthralled by his presence as he was with hers.

“I’ve seen you around.”

“So have I, Weasley.” She smiled warmly, an attempt to alleviate the tension.

“Is that right?”

“Indeed it is.” Another moment of uncomfortable silence followed.  

“Well, um anyway I was wondering if you’d like to go to the lake together sometime? If you want that is don’t feel pressured to say yes just because I asked you, it’s completely okay if you don’t-”

“Hey, calm down, yeah sure I don’t see why not.” The weight of her hand felt right against his forearm and he wanted to hold it in place forever, he grinned bashfully at her hand, which didn’t go unnoticed as she had squeezed his arm upon seeing his line of sight.

“4?”

“4.” She nodded before letting go of his arm and walking off, not bothering to glance over her shoulder.

After that afternoon together they became inseparable. Their lives orbit around the other and they learned everything there was to know about their partner, well almost. There was one thing she had kept from him, something that would normally be considered frivolous but in their case was quite the contrary. She hadn’t revealed that she was a part of the Rosier family, a pureblood family, similar to the Malfoys or the Blacks. Though she was treated with nothing but disdain for being a 'traitor' by her relatives, she was still technically a Rosier. She felt wrong for keeping it from him, but she never let that convince her to divulge her secret. She tried convincing herself that it wasn’t important, that it didn’t change anything. But she knew it did, it changed everything. No matter how many times she tried to delude herself, the intrusive thoughts that never stopped urging her to tell him continued their unabating blathering. Though she knew she never acted like them or shared their mentality, she knew how it would come across and she knew how George would react. A member of the Rosier family, a family known for possessing ostentatious pride due to their pureblood status dating someone part of a family deemed to be a stain on the sacred 28. Y/N was scared to lose everything she had with George, she was too afraid of the unknown so she kept it from him for as long as she could. That was a mistake, a huge one.

Everything seemed to be fine but one afternoon, when Y/N found that George wasn’t where they had agreed to meet she grew concerned. Her footsteps echoed as she ran to his dorm, worried he was hurt or in trouble.

“I know.”

“What are you talking about Georgie.” Her laughs were forced and stiff, she found it unusual for him to be so solemn. But as his shoulders deflated and his back hunched over his book she knew something was wrong, and she knew what it was. Before he could utter a single word she had already started berating herself in her head. How could one be so selfish? So inconsiderate and dull?

“You never told me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The incessant beating of her heart filled her ears, almost deafening her and making her unable to hear George’s voice, the voice that was usually filled with joy now sounded devastated and tumultuous. Tears had already threatened to cascade both of their cheeks and it was just a matter of time before someone started weeping.

“I didn’t think it mattered, I just wa-”

“But it does matter. It matters so much, are you completely oblivious to how the world works? How unfair it is to people like me? To people in my family? We’re a joke to people like you, so what was this all about?”

“I- George I’m with you because I love you, that’s all I swear. I’m not like them, I’m not.”

“So why'd you hide it then? Why couldn’t you just tell me?” His voice was hushed and fragile, he struggled to keep a steady tone, by instinct he remained stoic but his voice revealed how betrayed he felt.

“I just wanted a simple life, where it didn't matter your last name or your class or your blood purity, I didn’t want this to change our relationship. I wanted to be like everyone else. I want the future we always talk about, I don't care for any of that pureblood mania.”

“No! No you can’t say that not when you’re literally in one of the most prestigious and honored pureblood families. You don’t understand how bloody lucky you are Y/N! Honestly, have you ever realized that? You can do whatever you want and even if you fail you will never fall on your arse, but me, no I can’t do that if I failed I’m fucked. You can get away with anything with a simple call to your father, you can buy your way to the top. Why would you hide this from me? All this time, was I some charity case? Did your family force you to be with me just to get dirt on mine?”

“What? No! George! No...I just didn’t want this to change things and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, I love you so much I was just scared please .”

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

“Oh, I- if that’s what you think, I’ll just leave you be, I’m sorry.” With her head hung low and tears clouding her vision she made haste to locate the doorknob and rush out of his room. She ignored the frantic footsteps and calls of worry from Hermione and Harry as she bulleted out of the common room. She ignored Fred and Lee who were sitting on the bench in a corridor as they scribbled onto sheets of parchment, she ignored Luna who tried to grab her attention, and Cho, and Angelina, and Neville, everyone, she was verklempt and if anyone even gave her a look of sympathy she knew she’d break down in tears.

The rest of the afternoon she stayed quietly in her bed, curled up in a ball with crumpled tissues surrounding her. She felt guilty for crying, she had brought this onto herself. That didn’t stop her though because upon realizing what she had done, the image of George so distraught, so disappointed, plagued her mind and broke her heart even more. It was something that would plague her memories forever. It was ruined, they were ruined.

Days dragged like molasses dripping from a spoon, every walk between class there he’d be, leaning against a pillar while throwing his head back in laughter, or during meal times, his arms flailing as he retold a story about a prank, or in the library his head lulling to the side as he waited for Fred to determine the missing ingredient for a potion they wanted to perfect before selling it. It hurt her, seeing that he was completely fine without her, like everything was normal. He was everywhere, and even if he wasn’t physically, mentally he was. The words rang in her ears again and again ‘you’re just like the rest of them,’ it stung each time it repeated. She was starting to believe that she was just as bad as they are, just as selfish and malevolent and spiteful. It clawed at the abyss of her mind, dragging her entire being into a spiral of endless darkness.

The air was cold, the kind that nipped at all your nose and made it hard to breathe. The walk from Y/N’s potions class to herbology wasn’t pleasant as her fingers turned numb and red. The stone flooring crumbled under her black school shoes as she kicked the pieces that already broke off. She watched as the pebbles ricocheted from the toe of the black vinyl to a slightly elevated stone tile, she’d focus on anything but the things that lingered in her subconscious. It had been working in her favor for the past couple of weeks, or months, she couldn’t really tell, everything blurred into one continuous string of agonizing events. She found herself being unaware of what was in front of her because without even realizing it she bumped directly into the boy she’d been trying to make sure her thoughts were devoid of. On instinct, his arms immediately gripped her forearms and her hands pressed against his chest. Time moved slower than ever as their eyes slowly raked up from where their hands were to the eyes of who they were on. They scrambled from each other, muttering pathetic ‘sorry’s and speed walking with promptitude to opposite ends of the corridor.

The worst part was that no matter how often they tried to steer away from the other, they’d always cross each other's path. It got to the point where they weren’t even trying to hide their yearning to talk, they’d openly send longing stares but would never act on their desires. So much was unsaid and they realized they couldn’t just leave how things were, they had to talk about where they stood. The conclusion of that conversation was unclear and that’s what frightened them the most. The reality was that every day they refused to communicate out of obdurate pride, their relationship became more and more decrepit. George felt doltish and penitent, he didn’t mean what he said, he was hurt, angry and confused. Y/N felt guilty, she hurt the love of her life due to her selfish wishes to avoid confrontation.

It had been about 2 months, 2 agonizing, and treacherous months. George finally cracked, and much like the way things had started between them, he was looking for her in the great hall. He searched, pushing himself up slightly against the table, for any sign of her, anyone who would know where she was. It didn’t take long as he found Luna’s prolific hair, and there she was sitting right next to her. He could see her pushing around the vegetables on the golden plate in front of her, her cheek resting in her palm as a dejected countenance presented itself on her face. It saddened him to see her beautiful face so full of despondency. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to talk to her, he’d gone crazy without her. He abhorred pretending it didn’t phase him when he wasn’t with her, she had become a vital part of his life in such a short time. He knew she meant well. He wanted to fix things, he had to. Swiftly George dug through Ron’s back to grab a piece of parchment and scribbled using the quill Hermione was using, to the both of their dismays. He acted before he could fully process what his plan was because before he knew it he was faced with Y/N. Her eyes widened upon his arrival but before she could think of anything to say he placed the folded piece of parchment in front of her plate and dashed to the Gryffindor table. Dropping her fork she unfolded the parchment and smiled softly at the scraggly writing she adored so much.

'Astronomy Tower at 8?'

-----

She feared that she'd collapse as she feebly made her way up the steps to the astronomy tower. Her gloved hand held the note firmly, hoping that there was still a chance for them to fix everything. As she rounded the corner to ascend the final steps she found George sitting there.

"Y/N, you came" He breathed out, almost in disbelief.

"I'll take any chance to see you again." She mentally berated herself for saying something so sappy, but she noticed his eyes widen and his back straighten slightly.

"You're early."

"So are you."

"Yeah, I- uh yeah. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss you." A heavy silence fell upon them and they bore holes into each other with their apprehensive stares, waiting to see who would speak first.

"I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." They blurted at the same time, but Y/N nodded for him to continue.

"I didn't mean it, any of it. You're nothing like them I know that, just shocked me y'know? I should've never said those cruel, demeaning things to you, I know who you really are and I love you. Merlin, I'm so deeply and madly in love with you, and I really hope I haven't screwed us up. I understand if you don't want to get back together, after everything, but please if there is still a part of you that wants 'us' to happen again, tell me."

She nodded enthusiastically throwing herself into George's direction, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face between his shoulder and neck. He immediately pulled back slightly to grab her face with his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled so hard his face hurt.

"I meant everything I said, about the future and wanting to spend it with you. My mother and father...they're relatives but not family, they've never felt like home the way that you do." She felt him nod against her forehead. He held her chin between his index and thumb, tilting her head so her lips met his. He ghosted his lips over hers, brushing past them before connecting them softly. The warmth he's always felt ever since he saw her returned, and it cloaked his senses as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. After minutes of fervently compensating for lost time, with roaming hands and whispers or repeated 'i love you's and plans for their future, they pulled apart. Standing in silence in each other's embrace, they knew they'd make it through all the tumultuous times ahead because they had each other.

[sorcererrezan]

golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef  rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin. 

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe. 

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart. 

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions. 

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique. 

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is. 

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for. 

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences. 

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care. 

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right? 

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid. 

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen. 

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath. 

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone. 

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless. 

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t. 

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue. 

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both? 

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does. 

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this. 

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.” 

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine. 

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it. 

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away. 

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to. 

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance. 

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas. 

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[panharmonium]

oh, man.  you can literally hear kakashi thinking “okay.  we’re not ready for this conversation yet.”

i know this arc is partially filler, but the filler in shippuden seems to be better about exploring the thematic issues of the main story, and this scene in particular is so, so good.  kakashi knows full well what’s going on with naruto in this arc.  he’s perfectly aware that naruto is projecting his feelings about sasuke onto yukimaru, and he knows they’re going to have to have this talk at some point, but he’s also so careful and compassionate about testing the waters here, because the gap between his and naruto’s understanding of sasuke’s situation is so wide.  naruto keeps treating it like sasuke is being deceived/tricked by orochimaru - as if sasuke just doesn’t understand that orochimaru is using him, and if they could just make him see that then he’d come home - whereas kakashi knows that sasuke’s issues run way deeper than that.  

it’s not like kakashi has given up on helping sasuke (NEVER), but he’s able to understand and acknowledge the reality of the situation in a way that naruto can’t.  kakashi knows that sasuke is not under any delusions about who orochimaru is.  he knows that sasuke is fully prepared to let orochimaru destroy him and take his body (if it happens, it happens.  i don’t care what happens to me.)  sasuke is so desperate to kill itachi (read: justify his childhood survival) that he’s ready to die.  he’s not being held prisoner, and he’s not being forced to do anything he doesn’t want to do.  he’s with orochimaru right now because that is exactly where he wants to be.  

naruto might think he can drag sasuke back home by force (i’ll break every bone in your body), but kakashi knows an approach like that won’t work.  if sasuke’s going to come home, he’s going to have to CHOOSE to do so, and before he can ever choose something like that, he has some seriously fucked-up stuff to work through.  his friends and teachers can call out for him, and reach for him, and fight for him (and yes, that stuff IS powerful, and it DOES matter), but ultimately, the only person who can save sasuke is himself.

naruto doesn’t want to admit that.  he doesn’t want to face the fact that rescuing sasuke isn’t fully within his control, because it means there’s a very real possibility that their rescue attempt won’t succeed.  kakashi, on the other hand, is fully aware that things may not turn out the way he wants them to, but he’s still committed to doing everything he can anyway.  

i love how kakashi understands exactly how naruto needs to be reassured after this conversation.  naruto isn’t always the best with nuance - he jumps to conclusions and reacts VERY emotionally to things before he fully understands them, and kakashi knows that their conversation has left naruto feeling defensive and upset.  he recognizes that naruto has taken his gentle questioning about “your feelings might conflict with the other person’s” as “STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM; DON’T BOTHER TRYING TO BRING HIM HOME; IT WON’T WORK.”  so in the very next scene, when he’s outlining their mission objectives, kakashi makes sure to firmly state that helping the boy in question is in fact their top priority:

and naruto is so surprised and elated to hear that.  

this is a deliberate choice on kakashi’s part.  he knows naruto feels like any acknowledgement of the complexities inherent in saving yukimaru (read: sasuke) is an attack, as if kakashi is giving up on sasuke or saying that he’s not even going to try to help him, but in this moment kakashi issues a clear reassurance, after naruto has had a minute or two to calm down.  he’s telling naruto once again that they’re on the same team, and they have the same goals.  just because kakashi knows that things are more complicated than keeping a missing person in your thoughts doesn’t mean he isn’t still going to put his life on the line to facilitate sasuke’s recovery, even if the rescue attempt fails in the end.  he’s the one who told sasuke ‘i’ll protect you with my life,’ and that’s exactly what he’s going to do, whether it’s a hopeless endeavor or not.  we know perfectly well how kakashi feels about backtracking on a promise like that.  those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

kakashi is older and wiser than his kids.  he knows that sometimes things don’t turn out okay just because you hope they will or wish they would or try really really hard to make sure they do.  the unthinkable can and does happen, despite your best efforts.  but acknowledging this is not the same thing as giving up.  kakashi can recognize the possibility (likelihood, even) of failure and still give a rescue attempt everything he has, not because he thinks he will succeed, but because it’s the right thing to do even if he fails.

naruto isn’t quite able to grasp this dissonance yet.  he can’t tolerate the possibility that the success of sasuke’s retrieval might not depend solely on the strength of his own determination.  kakashi here is starting to very gently broach this topic, because he knows this is an essential thing for naruto to understand, but it’s clear from this scene that naruto just isn’t there yet.

[iffeelscouldkill]

this is the place that they pull you to

A/N: I would say “my hand slipped” but this actually took me like a week to write xD

This is a post-season 2 episode 1 fic, so, here be spoilers! Basically I was talking to @dragonsthough101 about how I was expecting more emotional fallout on McCabe’s end from all of the conflict and tensions in episode 1 and the putdowns from Arkady, and while I’m sure we will get that in the podcast, it also occurred to me that I could... write that :D and thus *flourishes hands*

Title is taken from Wires by Savlonic, because I was listening to it and I realised it’s actually a very good song for RJ, both under the Regime and after. And now I earworm myself whenever I work on this fic xD

---

Once the door to RJ’s room on the Iris II has slid shut behind them and the red ‘lock’ light has engaged, they let out a shaky breath.

Then, only then, do they allow their lower lip to tremble.

RJ shuffles over to the bed – more like a cot really, but that’s long-haul space travel for you – and drops down onto it. Park’s words from earlier are looping inside their head. “I hope you’re right. But honestly, in this moment, McCabe? I’m glad we don’t have to find out.”

RJ lets out another shaky breath that’s closer to a sob, and blinks back the tears that are forming in their eyes. It doesn’t completely work, and a couple escape and track down their cheeks. RJ smears them away with the palm of their hand. “Get a grip, McCabe,” they mutter angrily to themself. Sure, they might be alone in their room right now, but they know better than to feel like it’s safe to relax or let go. Someone could be by any minute to check on them, or there might be a situation that requires all crew members to come to the mess hall, or the cockpit, and then how will RJ explain their red eyes and wrung-out demeanour?

It’s not safe to let their guard down. It hasn’t been for weeks. Even around Park, the one person on this vessel RJ knows they can trust, RJ feels – off-kilter, like they’re lagging a step behind everything. RJ is still trying to get used to not addressing him as “Agent”, to figure out what they can and can’t say now, to navigate their new relationship. As friends – but are they friends? Does Park even like RJ, outside of the context of them working together under the Republic?

It seems uncharitable to think, and RJ and Park had always had a good relationship as colleagues – they hadn’t been close, and Park had seemed pretty inscrutable to RJ at first, but then they’d got used to his way of working and communicating. Figured out how to make him crack a smile. Drawn some praise from him, even, and realised that underneath everything he was a caring person, and a good boss.

But RJ had also thought – been sure – that Park was loyal to the Republic, so how well did they really know him? Know this Park? And Park has been treating them… warily, especially these past few days. Not coldly or poorly, but a little bit at arm’s length. Like he isn’t sure what they might do. Like he doesn’t trust them, even though RJ trusts Park totally – to the point where they were willing to throw over their whole career, everything they’d worked so hard for, and follow him onto the Iris II.

Granted, they also hadn’t had a lot of other options at that time, but RJ still isn’t sure they would have made the same decision if Park hadn’t been there.

And yet here they both are, and Park is already a fixture in the cockpit, watching the controls when Tripat- when Sana or Krejjh needs a break, having apparently built up some experience as a co-pilot for long-haul transports after serving in the military (yet another thing that RJ didn’t know about him). And he’s comfortable enough with the crew to be on bantering terms with them, to suggest plans involving decommissioned government satellites. Whereas RJ…

“Cram it, McCabe!”

RJ’s lip trembles again, this time in earnest. And RJ would like to pretend that these are angry tears, or frustrated or indignant tears, but they’re really not. RJ wants to be angry, to stand their ground and fire back and give as good as they get and somehow manage to verbally earn the others’ respect; to be seen as a person instead of a suspect or a liability. But they’ve struck the wrong chord every time. RJ is sick of the awkward tension every time they’re in the room; sick of Arkady’s prickly snappishness and Sana’s increasingly weary peacemaking; sick of the unspoken communication between the crew that they can’t parse.

It doesn’t help to realise that the crew must have got practiced at that during the weeks they spent evading the IGR’s scrutiny before they made landing on New Jupiter. At least Park could say he hadn’t been there by that point. But McCabe had, headphones on, straining to parse something from every off-handed comment, every loaded silence.

Park wasn’t there because he was being tortured in Zone Z, McCabe thinks, and abruptly feels sick. Sick at the thought, and sick of themself for – not thinking, for even considering for a split second that Park might be somehow better off. After being imprisoned, cut off from his friends and family, tortured and maimed by a government he’d spent years of his life serving.

The same government that he believes RJ was thinking of selling them out to.

This realisation steals the breath from RJ’s lungs with a whoosh, and all of a sudden they don’t feel sick, or indignant, or hurt – they just feel cold.

RJ hadn’t been able to explain to Park in the moment exactly what they’d been thinking by withholding the information about the Fowleys being bugged and monitored (because of course they were). When the ‘offer’ from Jay Fowley had first come through, the crew hadn’t been desperate enough to seriously consider it, and by the time they were… well, they’d been on the verge of figuring things out anyway. And RJ had been feeling angry, and vindictive, and not in the mood to volunteer anything that would aid the crew; not when doing that had got them into this mess in the first place.

And maybe in the back of their mind, a voice had been whispering that they should keep their options open. It’s a voice that gets louder in the dark, when RJ is lying awake on their bunk, unable to sleep for replaying those moments in the corridor, the way that it felt like the ground was falling out from under them as Goodman denounced them and Park as defectors. It gets louder whenever RJ clashes with Arkady, whenever they catch uncertain glances from the other crew members, whenever RJ wanders the corridors of this godforsaken claustrophobic ship and realises that this is it now. This is their whole life.

But they never thought about how that might look to Park. It’s like in RJ’s head there are somehow two Republics: the one that would be capable of doing such horrible things to Park – to any person, much less one who hadn’t been demonstrably proven guilty – and the one that RJ had dedicated their career to serving, that they had believed was just and good and right.

RJ wants to find him and apologise, to try and explain, to share some of the fears and secret thoughts that have been curdling on the back of their tongue these past weeks.

But Park told them to get some rest, and RJ has enough awareness to realise that there’s a much higher chance of the conversation turning out well if they sleep a while first. So, reluctantly, RJ toes off their shoes and shrugs off their vest, and wriggles underneath the taut blanket attached to the bunk.

Either they’ve reached some kind of peace with themself or they’re more exhausted than they realised, because sleep overtakes them in minutes.

---

RJ is woken by a knocking at the door: light and tentative at first, and then firmer and louder. As always, it takes a moment for their brain to catch up with their surroundings: the hard bunk beneath them, followed by the bare walls of their room, still unadorned (RJ wasn’t exactly carrying any personal belongings when they fled CUI Headquarters, and the ship hadn’t made any stops since. Not that RJ knows what they would put in their room anyway. There hadn’t been much to leave behind on New Jupiter). RJ sits up and rubs an arm across their eyes, then goes to answer the door.

It’s Violet. RJ clamps down on the reflexive urge to say something like, ‘Did you draw the short straw?’, or maybe, ‘Did they send you to manage me?’ Violet doesn’t look like she’s here under duress, and to RJ’s memory, she’s not a particularly good actor.

“Hi,” they say instead.

“Hi,” Violet replies with a little smile. There’s always a weird dissonance – though RJ would never, ever bring this up – that comes from hearing the voices of the Rumor crew come out of the mouths of actual people instead of a recording. “How did you sleep?”

“Uh…” RJ thinks back, and is surprised to find that the answer is ‘well’. They actually feel… slightly refreshed. “Fine.” Belatedly, they tack on, “Thank you.”

“That’s good to hear.” Violet smiles again. She’s never been unfriendly to RJ, but these past several days, she’s seemed more on edge, more prone to sarcastic retorts, less willing to make peace between them and Patel- Arkady. RJ had believed that her patience was slowly fraying, that like the rest of the crew, she was only willing to put up with the new additions to the ship for a certain amount of time and that she’d stop pretending before long. But now, taking in Violet’s looser posture, the way some of the lines around her eyes and mouth have eased, RJ realises it had never had anything to do with them. Violet had been worried about the supplies. About her… medical emergency.

Speaking of supplies… “Did Park tell you what we wanted to add to the list?” RJ asks, figuring they’d better add a bit of verisimilitude to the excuse that Park had used to speak to RJ alone.

Violet’s smile widens. “He did. I definitely agree about replenishing our coffee supplies – though, I don’t know what kind of quality you’re used to, because I should warn you that the black market kind – the affordable black market kind, anyway – is pretty bad. We get non-freeze-dried coffee whenever we can, but out here…” Violet shrugs as if to say, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’.

RJ manages to suppress a wince at the term “black market”. This is your life, now, RJ, they remind themself for the thousandth time. “That’s okay. The stuff in the IGR breakrooms was basically dreck. I can drink pretty much anything.” RJ is no coffee lover, but they drink it for the caffeine. Pretty much everyone in the Republic has a caffeine addiction or develops one at some point – no way to get through eighteen-hour shifts without it.

Violet chuckles a little. “It was always the same at my lab internships. I guess bad breakroom coffee is pretty universal.”

RJ recognises that she’s trying to bond with them by referencing shared experiences of working for the Republic. It’s not the first time she’s done it. But RJ still has trouble seeing their circumstances as equivalent.

Violet is – had been – a scientist, not an Agent; not one of the IGR’s most loyal, tasked with the defence of the Republic. She’d never had access to classified briefings; hadn’t dedicated her life to tracking down and apprehending insurgent forces. And given that the Rumor crew had deceived her into entering the cryo chamber, she could argue that she’d been duped – and had only co-operated in order to save her own life. Well, the argument would hold water up until Elion, anyway.

It wasn’t the same.

The silence hangs for a few moments, before RJ prompts her, “Did you want to… ask me something?”

“Sorry, yes – I came to tell you that dinner’s ready and uh, we’re about to eat in the mess hall if you’d like to join us.” Violet smiles again, with a touch of nervousness this time. No doubt she’s expecting a caustic brush-off.

“Is it veggie stew?” RJ can’t help asking, with a slight nose wrinkle. They’re expecting a rebuke from Violet, some kind of warning about being grateful for what they have, but instead she laughs.

“Unfortunately. On the bright side, though, it’s only for a couple more days and then we’ll be able to have actual flavourings again.”

RJ almost smiles, and is surprised when they catch themself. And – they were going to decline, make an excuse about continuing their nap, because they’re still feeling off-kilter and they doubt that Arkady will be thrilled to be spending time in close quarters with them so soon, but – they think about Park’s talk with them in the hallway. About how they’ve spent the past few weeks dodging any kind of connection with the rest of the crew, anything that will put them past, in RJ’s mind, the point of no return – and where exactly that’s got them.

“Sure,” says RJ. “Just let me, uh…”

They put a hand up to their hair, realising that it must be sticking up in all directions after their nap. Short hair is gratifyingly easy to take care of, but it sure does have interesting ideas about gravity.

“I have a comb you can borrow, if you need it?” Violet offers.

“It’s fine,” RJ declines automatically. “Park-”

They catch themself, wondering why it feels like such a concession to accept even this tiny piece of help from someone other than Park. They think about their bare room, empty of any personal possessions.

“I’m okay right now,” they say slowly. “But… is it too late to add something to the shopping list?”

Violet blinks, clearly surprised, and then smiles brightly. “Not at all.”

---

Five minutes later, hair tamed and clothes straightened, RJ makes their way towards the mess hall, which adjoins the kitchen. They haven’t spent much time in here so far – there’d been a couple of communal dinners at first, which quickly gave way to the reality of shifts ending at disparate times and the need to simply grab food however and whenever people could, something RJ had been grateful for.

Once, on their way to the kitchen, they’d walked in on Violet and Arkady having what looked like a picnic at the table in the centre of the room, just the two of them. That had been awkward for everyone. Since then, RJ has taken to finding their food and snacks at times when they know most of the crew are otherwise occupied.

Everyone else is already there and making more noise than you would think a group of six people could generate. Brian is in the kitchen, ladling bland servings of stew into the uniform polypropylene bowls that they’d found stacked inside the cupboards. Krejjh stands next to him, loudly enthusing about the virtues of the stew to anyone within earshot. Violet and Sana are waiting to be served, while Arkady – who has just been handed a full bowl by Brian – rolls her eyes and makes sarcastic comments as she carries it through to the mess hall. There, Park is sitting in one of the bolted-down chairs, watching the whole scene with a slightly raised eyebrow and waiting, if RJ had to guess, for the general hubbub to die down before he goes to get his food.

RJ pads over and slides into the chair on the same side as Park’s good eye. Park turns his head slightly, giving them a quick once-over, almost too brief to catch. “Hi,” he says quietly. “How was your nap?”

RJ hesitates over what to say. “It helped,” they reply. “Park, can we… talk? After dinner?”

The tiniest of frowns creases Park’s forehead. “Sure,” he says. “Everything all right?”

RJ nods, drumming their fingers on the tabletop and meeting Violet’s gaze as she comes over to sit next to Arkady, giving RJ a friendly smile. They don’t quite return it, but… it’s not as unwelcome as it would have been, before.

“Yeah,” they say to Park. “It’s fine.”

[mooglesorts]

tbh i also like badger snake strickler with an exploded snake primary model because it provides an interesting contrast to barb's LOUD snake lion with an exploded badger primary model. their primary houses are both... i'm not sure if 'burned' is the right word for both of them--barb's is for sure burnt as hell--but they're twisted in really interesting ways. they're loyalist primaries who've disconnected the actual wellbeing of the people they're loyal to in favor of feeling like they're living up to their primaries.

strickler is a badger who works toward the long-term good of one community--changelings--while also dehumanizing the hell out of them because that's what people are taught to think about changelings, including changelings themselves. and he can't do what he does with the humans, playacting at being a beloved and helpful citizen of his community because he can pretend for a little while that he's not working toward their deaths.

with humans it's all Good Fuzzy Community Feelings now; with changelings he has to ignore their pain, perpetuate their abuse, commit atrocities against them now, and he can't fucking handle it. so he shuts it off. he can work for 'the good of all changelings,' but he can't look individual changelings in the face and care or it will destroy him. he's a badger who's been so thoroughly broken as a person, who relies so utterly on cognitive dissonance to keep living, that he looks like an idealist--a horrifying one--and it fucks me up. it fucks me up so bad.

it's also what makes his arc in s1 so compelling to me, because it's the story of him being shoved out of the status quo and unbreaking. his horror and reluctance at realizing jim is the trollhunter, that he's going to be forced to dehumanize him; the nasty shock of both his lives crashing into each other in a way he can't cognitive-dissonance away any longer; the wakeup call of losing one of his communities after how he's treated them for so long because he taught them to dehumanize him too; the life-changing experience of having someone stand up for him by affirming his humanity for once... fuck, man. fuck.

barb i'll have to come back to in a reblog, i think. her sorting-related flaws are super interesting and complex as well, but they are... a whole lot more triggering for me than strickler's, so they're harder to write about. in the meantime have this because it kills the man

[funeralprocessor]

Games & Canon

I was having a talk with someone about the Elder Scrolls, and a weird topic cropped up: video games as a medium have kind of a weird relationship with their own canon. Every medium has a certain degree of separation from the “real”, intended form of the story and its setting, for instance a movie having cheap/bad effects, but games are the only one I can think of where they routinely depict things that are just straight up wrong or not actually present, where the work can essentially be non-canon to itself, either through technical/developmental limitations or conceits of the medium/genre/etc. The Elder Scrolls is a good example, because Tamriel is implied to be a much larger, fuller world than we’re shown. The Imperial City having more than a handful of buildings, or there being more bandits than citizens in Skyrim. Obviously the technology to really show the world they want to in a AAA format just isn’t there yet and certainly wasn’t there for older entries in the franchise, but it goes beyond that, especially for the fandom. There’s a sizable contingent of TES fans who hold that the games only get the broadest strokes right, with most of the “actual” timeline of events playing out fairly differently. For instance, assuming that the player characters not only don’t do every possible quest available to them but rather do very few outside their main stories, with most of them being done by unnamed third parties or simply going unresolved. Magic is another bugbear that seems to be contentious, with in-universe descriptions of learning and casting often sounding not at all like what we do in the game. Of course there are people who take it too far and say that nothing in the games is representative of the truth, or go the opposite route and say that the games are the only canon that matters and any IU sources or word of god are unreliable. That’s a little complicated in the case of TES because there are a lot of implications that the quirks of the medium *do* exist in universe to some extent, but the ambiguity is enough that debate can be had Respawns/extra lives/reloading is a medium conceit that is an integral part of most games, but probably not actually how things work in universe. Something like Hotline Miami where death is constant and restarts frequent, but where in the true form of the story Jacket never dies. Same for Doomguy, Laura Croft, Leon Kennedy, really any character where the narrative doesn’t acknowledge their deaths. Some games have settings/canon loose enough and cartoony enough that you really can’t tell if something like a 1up or extra life is something that actually exists in universe or not, and some do actually make some effort to explain death not being the end for you and incorporate it into the setting. For example, bonfires from Dark Souls or the new-U stations in Borderlands. Except that last one isn’t actually true, because for some reason Gearbox not only went out of their way to make an IU explanation for respawning, but drew attention to it with bright colors and constant quips. You even know who in-world makes them! But then they decided that they don’t actually exist and that you never really died throughout the whole trilogy. It’s largely to circumvent questions about certain plot points and make character deaths feel substantial, but it just strikes as a really bizarre move that again raises the question of where the fuck canon begins and ends. 

On a similar vein, anyone who’s ever played a JRPG, particularly the more old school ones, will know the slight dissonance and frustration of having items and services that can resurrect your dead (and I mean definitely telegraphed as dead, following behind you in a coffin dead) party members only to be confronted with an NPC death that’s treated as a big deal. Like Sephiroth stabbing Aeris kills her for real, but him stabbing Cloud to death in their later fight is an easy fix. There was a game I don’t recall the name of where you have to help a king who’s dying. Dying of what, you ask? Why, snake venom. But none of the fistfuls of antidote I was carrying when I met him could quite do the trick. 

I once got into an argument with someone over whether or not the For Honor setting had magic. I said no, not really, but they insisted that it did, because of the various energy effect cosmetics, emotes,etc. I said that those were clearly not actually things happening in the game, just decorative gewgaws to show off your character, but he said that they very much were real things happening in the game because they *do* happen in the game and nothing ever contradicts that. And I couldn’t really argue with him. Why say one cosmetic is invalid pseudo-canon but not others? Things like that, elements of the systems/mechanics of games that aren’t totally abstracted from the world and thus could be canon, I don’t know what to think about. 

[dropintomanga]

You Don’t Have to Get an Otaku Lover

"I wish I had a girlfriend who was into anime.”

For as long as I’ve been involved in anime/manga fandom, I hear this line quite a bunch from (mostly) male fans who have little-to-no luck in romance. They believe that their lives can be more fulfilling if they had the perfect romantic relationship. I’ve found some recent online discussion about this because who doesn’t want someone who shares/loves the same hobby as you and there’s plenty of examples of otaku couples out there.

But to be honest, I’m more in favor of dating someone who isn’t that interested in your hobbies.

Reading some of the commentary made me think about this 2018 post on geek dating. The author makes an argument that while it’s nice to date a fellow geek, they pose this scenario (which is both theoretical and realistic) using Star Trek as an example.

“In many other cases, you can find that Star Trek is all you have by finding a date on a website like that. So what happens when you get bored with Star Trek?

What you need to understand is that being in a relationship with someone “Different Enough” is what you want to strive for. You don’t want to be in a relationship with someone exactly like you. It’s not that a relationship like that can’t work, it’s just not as likely.

You, the person reading this right now, will hopefully not be the same person five years from now that you are today. Or ten years from now. Or maybe even twenty. Remaining the same is not how we’re wired as humans. Dating, and being in a relationship with someone that is “Different Enough” challenges you. It keeps your brain sharp. It gives you new things to learn and discover about yourself.”

I know some fans will go “What? Me bored with anime? Never.” But there’s always the chance that you might be. Anime burn out is a real thing and will continue to be. If not, there’s the possibility of hedonic adaptation where even if you do have a partner that loves anime, you will go back to not feeling fulfilled again as you will find them “boring” once you’re used to their presence. I sometimes wonder if fans just put up with anime because that’s all they have. 

I know it does feel like people don’t change, but some of them make the effort to. They may not change the way you want them to, but people do change over time. I used to watch a bunch of anime and now I don’t. I’ve also felt fatigued from anime discourse due to how fractured it’s become.

Though in general, I’m just disappointed in how dating is being treated as an experience that fetishizes fantasy. “I wish I had a partner that loves anime (or any hobby in general)” treats the other person as just a means to an end. That’s not what healthy relationships are all about. A lot of dating advice poses much psychological harm.

Healthy relationships are more about intimacy than interests. Face it, we’re all vulnerable creatures filled with all kinds of emotions. While there are indeed relationships that you should run away from (of the abuse kind), tough and awkward conversations about life are things that one shouldn’t run away from. I worry that all this horrible encouragement about getting someone who is totally like you will ruin fans’ mental health and their approaches to connecting with others in a meaningful manner.

I want to ask fans desperate for romance if they really want to deal with the complexities of a relationship because life isn’t a harem series. Or maybe I should put it this way - would you honestly date yourself? Think about the question as long as possible before you answer. I know there are things that you dislike about yourself. Imagine having those dislikes shoved right in front of your face when you’re not ready to confront them yourself. Why put up with that?

I do see that dating in general has changed for the better in some ways. A lot more folks are seeing how much emotional intimacy matters in dating since the pandemic has pretty much hindered most traditional dating outlets. I think a good amount of people are starting to get what romance should be like. You know what true romance really means? It means being able to compromise in ways that help both you and your partner in everyday life, not watching your favorite anime series together on your favorite streaming services. 

I thought about getting a girlfriend who really was into anime and that she was going to cure my depression. Over time, I learned that it doesn’t work that way and it’s unfair for the other person. Which leads me to say this - I hate this whole idea that one person will solve another person’s needs. It takes an entire community of people to change someone’s life for the better. I think the whole “one person can save them” narrative happens because most people hate dealing with complex and painful situations as they start to have fears that they might be in those same situations one day. There’s a bit of cognitive dissonance there.

If I’m going to date someone, I want to date a partner that makes me feel emotionally safe (NO ONE THINKS ABOUT THIS WITH REGARDS TO DATING) and go “I actually give a shit about them even if they aren’t the most perfect person in the world.” I don’t care if they like the same things I do due to how much I dislike most online fan discourse nowadays. I care about things other than just my hobbies because I’m human. I carry many labels in life. Fans, find a partner you can be vulnerable with in a safe manner and values that part of you with just enough differences to make the relationship work. 

Striving for love and connection is important for your mental health, but the chase tends to go one way or another to the point that it can become abusive. I really want dating to go the way like how Edward Elric told Winry Rockbell when he confessed to her in the end of Fullmetal Alchemist - equivalent exchange of your inner selves (joy, pain, all of it). That’s what I think the perfect version of what an otaku romance should be and an ideal worth preaching for.