#I didn’t get when I transitioned to male. it’s just this weird ‘in between’ space

[nothorses]

Interview With An Ex-Radfem

exradfem is an anonymous Tumblr user who identifies as transmasculine, and previously spent time in radical feminist communities. They have offered their insight into those communities using their own experiences and memories as a firsthand resource.

Background

I was raised in an incredibly fundamentalist religion, and so was predisposed to falling for cult rhetoric. Naturally, I was kicked out for being a lesbian. I was taken in by the queer community, particularly the trans community, and I got back on my feet- somehow. I had a large group of queer friends, and loved it. I fully went in on being the Best Trans Ally Possible, and constantly tried to be a part of activism and discourse.

Unfortunately, I was undersocialized, undereducated, and overenthusiastic. I didn't fully understand queer or gender theory. In my world, when my parents told me my sexuality was a choice and I wasn't born that way, they were absolutely being homophobic. I understood that no one should care if it's a choice or not, but it was still incredibly, vitally important to me that I was born that way.

On top of that, I already had an intense distrust of men bred by a lot of trauma. That distrust bred a lot of gender essentialism that I couldn't pull out of the gender binary. I felt like it was fundamentally true that men were the problem, and that women were inherently more trustworthy. And I really didn't know where nonbinary people fit in.

Then I got sucked down the ace exclusionist pipeline; the way the arguments were framed made sense to my really surface-level, liberal view of politics. This had me primed to exclude people –– to feel like only those that had been oppressed exactly like me were my community.

Then I realized I was attracted to my nonbinary friend. I immediately felt super guilty that I was seeing them as a woman. I started doing some googling (helped along by ace exclusionists on Tumblr) and found the lesfem community, which is basically radfem “lite”: lesbians who are "only same sex attracted". This made sense to me, and it made me feel so much less guilty for being attracted to my friend; it was packaged as "this is just our inherent, biological desire that is completely uncontrollable". It didn't challenge my status quo, it made me feel less guilty about being a lesbian, and it allowed me to have a "biological" reason for rejecting men.

I don't know how much dysphoria was playing into this, and it's something I will probably never know; all of this is just piecing together jumbled memories and trying to connect dots. I know at the time I couldn't connect to this trans narrative of "feeling like a woman". I couldn't understand what trans women were feeling. This briefly made me question whether I was nonbinary, but radfem ideas had already started seeping into my head and I'm sure I was using them to repress that dysphoria. That's all I can remember.

The lesfem community seeded gender critical ideas and larger radfem princples, including gender socialization, gender as completely meaningless, oppression as based on sex, and lesbian separatism. It made so much innate sense to me, and I didn't realize that was because I was conditioned by the far right from the moment of my birth. Of course women were just a biological class obligated to raise children: that is how I always saw myself, and I always wanted to escape it.

I tried to stay in the realms of TIRF (Trans-Inclusive Radical Feminist) and "gender critical" spaces, because I couldn't take the vitriol on so many TERF blogs. It took so long for me to get to the point where I began seeing open and unveiled transphobia, and I had already read so much and bought into so much of it that I thought that I could just ignore those parts.

In that sense, it was absolutely a pipeline for me. I thought I could find a "middle ground", where I could "center women" without being transphobic.

Slowly, I realized that the transphobia was just more and more disgustingly pervasive. Some of the trans men and butch women I looked up to left the groups, and it was mostly just a bunch of nasty people left. So I left.

After two years offline, I started to recognize I was never going to be a healthy person without dealing with my dysphoria, and I made my way back onto Tumblr over the pandemic. I have realized I'm trans, and so much of this makes so much more sense now. I now see how I was basically using gender essentialism to repress my identity and keep myself in the closet, how it was genuinely weaponized by TERFs to keep me there, and how the ace exclusionist movement primed me into accepting lesbian separatism- and, finally, radical feminism.

The Interview

You mentioned the lesfem community, gender criticals, and TIRFs, which I haven't heard about before- would you mind elaborating on what those are, and what kinds of beliefs they hold?

I think the lesfem community is recruitment for lesbians into the TERF community. Everything is very sanitized and "reasonable", and there's an effort not to say anything bad about trans women. The main focus was that lesbian = homosexual female, and you can't be attracted to gender, because you can't know someone's gender before knowing them; only their sex.

It seemed logical at the time, thinking about sex as something impermeable and gender as internal identity. The most talk about trans women I saw initially was just in reference to the cotton ceiling, how sexual orientation is a permanent and unchangeable reality. Otherwise, the focus was homophobia. This appealed to me, as I was really clinging to the "born this way" narrative.

This ended up being a gateway to two split camps - TIRFs and gender crits.

I definitely liked to read TIRF stuff, mostly because I didn't like the idea of radical feminism having to be transphobic. But TIRFs think that misogyny is all down to hatred of femininity, and they use that as a basis to be able to say trans women are "just as" oppressed.

Gender criticals really fought out against this, and pushed the idea that gender is fake, and misogyny is just sex-based oppression based on reproductive issues. They believe that the source of misogyny is the "male need to control the source of reproduction"- which is what finally made me think I had found the "source" of my confusion. That's why I ended up in gender critical circles instead of TIRF circles.

I'm glad, honestly, because the mask-off transphobia is what made me finally see the light. I wouldn't have seen that in TIRF communities.

I believed this in-between idea, that misogyny was "sex-based oppression" and that transphobia was also real and horrible, but only based on transition, and therefore a completely different thing. I felt that this was the "nuanced" position to take.

The lesfem community also used the fact that a lot of lesbians have partners who transition, still stay with their lesbian partners, and see themselves as lesbian- and that a lot of trans men still see themselves as lesbians. That idea is very taboo and talked down in liberal queer spaces, and I had some vague feelings about it that made me angry, too. I really appreciated the frank talk of what I felt were my own taboo experiences.

I think gender critical ideology also really exploited my own dysphoria. There was a lot of talk about how "almost all butches have dysphoria and just don't talk about it", and that made me feel so much less alone and was, genuinely, a big relief to me that I "didn't have to be trans".

Lesfeminism is essentially lesbian separatism dressed up as sex education. Lesfems believe that genitals exist in two separate categories, and that not being attracted to penises is what defines lesbians. This is used to tell cis lesbians, "dont feel bad as a lesbian if you're attracted to trans men", and that they shouldn’t feel "guilty" for not being attracted to trans women. They believe that lesbianism is not defined as being attracted to women, it is defined as not being attracted to men; which is a root idea in lesbian separatism as well.

Lesfems also believe that attraction to anything other than explicit genitals is a fetish: if you're attracted to flat chests, facial hair, low voices, etc., but don't care if that person has a penis or not, you're bisexual with a fetish for masculine attributes. Essentially, they believe the “-sexual” suffix refers to the “sex” that you are assigned at birth, rather than your attraction: “homosexual” refers to two people of the same sex, etc. This was part of their pushback to the ace community, too.

I think they exploited the issues of trans men and actively ignored trans women intentionally, as a way of avoiding the “TERF” label. Pronouns were respected, and they espoused a constant stream of "trans women are women, trans men are men (but biology still exists and dictates sexual orientation)" to maintain face.

They would only be openly transmisogynistic in more private, radfem-only spaces.

For a while, I didn’t think that TERFs were real. I had read and agreed with the ideology of these "reasonable" people who others labeled as TERFs, so I felt like maybe it really was a strawman that didn't exist. I think that really helped suck me in.

It sounds from what you said like radical feminism works as a kind of funnel system, with "lesfem" being one gateway leading in, and "TIRF" and "gender crit" being branches that lesfem specifically funnels into- with TERFs at the end of the funnel. Does that sound accurate?

I think that's a great description actually!

When I was growing up, I had to go to meetings to learn how to "best spread the word of god". It was brainwashing 101: start off by building a relationship, find a common ground. Do not tell them what you really believe. Use confusing language and cute innuendos to "draw them in". Prey on their emotions by having long exhausting sermons, using music and peer pressure to manipulate them into making a commitment to the church, then BAM- hit them with the weird shit.

Obviously I am paraphrasing, but this was framed as a necessary evil to not "freak out" the outsiders.

I started to see that same talk in gender critical circles: I remember seeing something to the effect of, "lesfem and gender crit spaces exist to cleanse you of the gender ideology so you can later understand the 'real' danger of it", which really freaked me out; I realized I was in a cult again.

I definitely think it's intentional. I think they got these ideas from evangelical Christianity, and they actively use it to spread it online and target young lesbians and transmascs. And I think gender critical butch spaces are there to draw in young transmascs who hate everything about femininity and womanhood, and lesfem spaces are there to spread the idea that trans women exist as a threat to lesbianism.

Do you know if they view TIRFs a similar way- as essentially prepping people for TERF indoctrination?

Yes and no.

I've seen lots of in-fighting about TIRFs; most TERFs see them as a detriment, worse than the "TRAs" themselves. I've also definitely seen it posed as "baby's first radfeminism". A lot of TIRFs are trans women, at least from what I've seen on Tumblr, and therefore are not accepted or liked by radfems. To be completely honest, I don't think they're liked by anyone. They just hate men.

TIRFs are almost another breed altogether; I don't know if they have ties to lesfems at all, but I do think they might've spearheaded the online ace exclusionist discourse. I think a lot of them also swallowed radfem ideology without knowing what it was, and parrot it without thinking too hard about how it contradicts with other ideas they have.

The difference is TIRFs exist. They're real people with a bizarre, contradictory ideology. The lesfem community, on the other hand, is a completely manufactured "community" of crypto-terfs designed specifically to indoctrinate people into TERF ideology.

Part of my interest in TIRFs here is that they seem to have a heavy hand in the way transmascs are treated by the trans community, and if you're right that they were a big part of ace exclusionism too they've had a huge impact on queer discourse as a whole for some time. It seems likely that Baeddels came out of that movement too.

Yes, there’s a lot of overlap. The more digging I did, the more I found that it's a smaller circle running the show than it seems. TIRFs really do a lot of legwork in peddling the ideology to outer queer community, who tend to see it as generic feminism.

TERFs joke a lot about how non-radfems will repost or reblog from TERFs, adding "op is a TERF”. They're very gleeful when people accept their ideology with the mask on. They think it means these people are close to fully learning the "truth", and they see it as further evidence they have the truth the world is hiding. I think it's important to speak out against radical feminism in general, because they’re right; their ideology does seep out into the queer community.

Do you think there's any "good" radical feminism?

No. It sees women as the ultimate victim, rather than seeing gender as a tool to oppress different people differently. Radical feminism will always see men as the problem, and it is always going to do harm to men of color, gay men, trans men, disabled men, etc.

Women aren't a coherent class, and radfems are very panicked about that fact; they think it's going to be the end of us all. But what's wrong with that? That's like freaking out that white isn't a coherent group. It reveals more about you.

It's kind of the root of all exclusionism, the more I think about it, isn't it? Just freaking out that some group isn't going to be exclusive anymore.

Radical feminists believe that women are inherently better than men.

For TIRFs, it's gender essentialism. For TERFs, its bio essentialism. Both systems are fundamentally broken, and will always hurt the groups most at risk. Centering women and misogyny above all else erases the root causes of bigotry and oppression, and it erases the intersections of race and class. The idea that women are always fundamentally less threatening is very white and privileged.

It also ignores how cis women benefit from gender norms just as cis men do, and how cis men suffer from gender roles as well. It’s a system of control where gender non-conformity is a punishable offense.

[mha-princess]

Don’t Let Me Be | Bakugou x Reader

Genre:Angst | Tea Shop AU | stranger to lovers | Oneshot/Ongoing | eventual smut

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: mentions of depression/sadness/sickness

Summary: as the seasons change you stand at the counter unmindful and aloof, but when a boy enters the shop you cease your boredom and take his order. But every second he draws. closer an overwhelming sadness fills the room. Interested by him to try your best to befriend him a figure why this boy is so sad.

A/N: just like my previous oneshots if you would like me to continue this story a comment, reblog, or a like is appreciated! ⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃♡- Anako

Song recommendation for this fic - Song Request by Lee Sora

The faint scent of boiling herbs filled the small oak shop as the last reminants of winter faded away outside of its wooden walls. A slow somber ballad flowed from the small speaker at the back of the shop, filling the space with a indescribable melencholy. The transition from winter to spring was always a weird one? It was almost as if the weather dictated your mood.

Well whatever it was your shift was going by unspeakably slow. But to be fair it wasn’t all that bad, the tea shop provided a very calming setting to cope with the ever changing ordeals of life. The shop was never empty but it was never unbearably busy either. On occasion a couple would sit and have a cuppa but most of the time people ordered their teas to go.

The door of the old shop is pushed open with minimal force, the ringing of the bell shifting your attention to the direction of the sound. In lumbered a boy, his clothes baggy and oversized as if he were trying to fend off the dying cold, his hair colored a light blond creating a perfect contrast to his red irises, and the expression on his face unclear due to the the scarf wrapped firmly around his neck slightly covering his mouth.

“How may I help you today?” you question, grabbing ahold of a sticky note to take down the order.

The boy’s eyes gloss over the menu before he responds, his voice muffled by the scarf. “I’d like to have a chamomile tea.”

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “can you repeat that for me?”

He hesitates before pulling the scarf down. “Can I have a chamomile tea?”

“For here or to go?”

“Uh,” he glances around the shop before going back to looking off to the side, “here is fine.”

“Your total is five dollars and eight cents, you can sit wherever and I’ll bring you your tea when it’s ready. Can I get your name?”

“Katsuki,” He answered, handing you the exact amount of change before walking off to find a seat.

As you dip the tea bags into the steaming kettle, the once transparent water slowly turns a dark green. You then advert your attention from the tea to the boy who had just entered the shop.

He’s seated by a glass window, his shoulders slumped and his arms appeared to be wrapped in a cris cross form around his stomach as if the abundance of clothes weren’t keeping him warm enough. His eyes were glued to the outside scenery, which in your opinion wasn’t very pleasant.

The trees still weren’t fully resurrected from the harsh winter, a months worth of snow was just now succumbing to the rising (yet still low) temperatures, and the wind tumbled the streets litter up and down the cracked sidewalks. Why would that be captivating to anyone?

The kettle whistles indicating that the tea is done. With caution you pour the tea into a porcelain cup top it off with mint leaves and plate it on a saucer. Carefully you walk over to the table and set the tea infront of the unmindful boy.

“Order for Katsuki,” You state, pushing the saucer towards the boy but he still doesn’t notice your presence. Involuntarily you let your hands reach out to tap his shoulders. The male inhaled sharply as if you had just caused him physical pain. Startled by the noise he just made his eyes find yours to see if he had scared you any but he quickly looks away, unable to make eye contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No im sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t think you heard me the first time, which is fine.” you smile softly, looking around the shop to see if there were and unsuspecting customers, “Would it be a problem if I sat with you? Buisness is kind of slow today.”

He shrugged before allowing himself to nod yes. Upon sitting down you were able to get a closer look at his features. His lips were chapped, molded into what seemed to be a frown and the underside of his eyes seemed to be a light shade of gray.

Your eyes follow his movements as he reaches out to grasp the handle of the tea cup. As his fingers slip from the cuff of his hoodie you notice that his hands appear to be covered in this scratches and welts. His fingertips were also lined with callous skin.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You warn, watching the boys lip curl to blow the liquid. After taking a sip he sets the cup down and looks out the window once more. It’s was clear that if you wanted a conversation you’d have to try harder.

“So how’d you hear about this place? You look pretty young and people like us don’t come here often.” You smile turning your gaze towards the window. The boy swallows before answering your question.

“I use to live in the neighboring city. I moved here not too long ago but a lady used to tell me about it. She-,” the boy pauses, “ She always wanted to visit here.” His voice drawn to that of a mere mutter as he finishes his statement.

“Does she not live around here?” you question.

“Something like that,” The sullen look on his face growing even sadder as his arms go back to caressing his sides. You had clearly just unintentionally hit a nerve. You refrain from asking anymore questions, and just sit and watch the rain drops pitter across the window sill. The musical ballad filling the silence between you too.

“It’s raining again outside the window. These moments make me think of you. I can’t sleep. This silence and the melancholic sound of my heart fill the room. Making me go crazy. So I turn up my radio. Somewhere, I hear someone’s voice. And on the radio. That sad story is so much like my own.”

As the hour fades and closing time nears the boys eyes never move from the window. And the longer you looked at him the more you felt a solace form in your heart. An overwhelming sadness had you firmly seated, unable to leave. Maybe it was the clothes he wore that were clearly there for comfort or maybe it was the way his eyes told a sorrowful story.

In a last ditch attempt to get the boy to talk to you, you dish one more question. “Do you think you’ll come back sometime? Like it doesn’t have to be tomorrow or anything, I just think it’ll be nice for us to have some tea when I’m not on the clock then maybe we can go to a bakery or something, since your not familiar with this town? I could show you around.”

The boys sits firmly in the seat, his eyes still glued to the window. His expression never changing.

“You don’t have to answer right now.” you add, “It was just a suggestion.”

The boy turns and gives you nod he then reaches into his wallet to leaves you a tip, before rising to leave. He mumbles a quick thank you before exiting the shop.

“What could have someone that out of it?” You question grabbing the cup of green liquid. “He didn’t even drink much of his tea.”

“That tea was damn disgusting.” Katsuki says caressing the matte photograph. The picture showcasing two people,there’s a older female, smiling her hand placed on a younger boys head whose looking at the camera in distain. The once matted photo slowly becoming glossy with the tears of its beholder.

“You old hag. We were suppose to go to that shop as a family.” he choked, the saltiness of tears entering his mouth.

“If you don’t get well soon, I’ll lose it,” he sobs clenching the photo between his fingers.

“I’ll lose it.”

Masterlist | Request Rules | Request Box

[cienie-isengardu]

axelzp replied to “The Bad Batch”:

I think most people take issue with Omega and TBB due to concerns over whitewashing. Also, what do you have against the explanation of the biochips? Personally, I always thought it fit Palpatine's controlling nature better than the idea of clones just getting a command from some random guy in a hood, telling them to kill the Jedi.

First off, I apologize it took me so long to answer. I tried to explain my reasoning in a short and coherent way as possible, but apparently the years of frustration about this issue needed more space to be properly addressed. So, in advance, sorry for text length.

From all TCW changes done to star wars, the chip-in-brain is one of my top 3 reasons to dislike the whole TV show, despite many of its good moments. I understand why authors chose this sub-plot that allows them to separate the visibly individual "good" clones (thus making them more likeable for the audience / marketing) from the “bad” that kill the Jedi but frankly, I find it a cheap and kinda problematic excuse. Clones were victims regardless of which version people will accept but I really despite the idea that Jedi were their beloved generals and commanders - so beloved that clones actually had nightmares about killing them waaay before Palpatine ultimately won which undermines the whole point of Order 66. 

Jedi could never expect clones to shoot them in the back because they were used to their unquestioned obedience from the start of war. It was common knowledge, repeatedly mentioned in sources like “Jedi Trial” that clones were “bred to war, bred to discipline, bred to obey without question the orders of the powers that paid for their services”. Clones were made that way by genetic manipulations and years of intensive training; an indoctrination that makes clone troopers believe they have obey, no matter what cost.

Some sources, like Clone Wars Adventures’ “Orders” outright show us the mindset of clones:

and We’ve got nothing but each other ad our orders.

Because of that worldbuilding, I prefer Legends take on clone obedience and the Jedi approach to the problem than what TCW created. I talked about it more here, but the general sense is that I feel cheated by the idea of chips that turn people into some “programmed” machines because in such way, TCW erased the Jedi & Republic part in abuse & enslavement of clone troopers, while at the same time giving an unrealistic idea that Jedi were so liked / respected when most of clones did not have any special bond with them. And this is less about if Jedi were good military leaders or not and more that as generals/commanders they didn’t interact that much with common troopers. Because the chain of command doesn’t work like that. I’m willing to buy the close(r) bond between Anakin & 501st because frankly Darth Vader himself from the start was built as someone with better relationships with common troopers / “normal” officers than with most of the high ranking officers presented on screen. I’m pretty sure some other Jedi were caring and liking clones (and vice versa) but it is impossible for generals to know and be so close to all of their troopers.

Above everything else, Legends created an interesting situation in which the Jedi Council / Order knew clones would follow orders no matter if those were right or not and were aware how dangerous it could be yet they still didn’t do anything about it, because the obedience of clones were beneficial for them. Jedi not only took for granted their obedience, they mistook it for respect.

Which really speaks a lot about Jedi's own moral failing and/or lack of understanding the difference between those two terms.

In the Legends sources, there was no need for chips, really, when from the start Kaminoans tinkered with clone genome, created the effective system of “proper” education to mold clones into obedient soldiers and Republic wasn’t really interested to undo the damage done by such indoctrination. 

Before TCW brought the chips and “nightmares haunting clones” there were officially established Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 Through 150. A guideline for unexpected and/or critical situations, so the Great Army of Republic [GAR] would know how to proceed - especially when troopers were given contradictory orders. The orders (also known as Clone Protocols) weren’t secret and there is a big chance that Jedi knew it, if someone bothered to learn the manual. The whole formula of Order 66 was described as:

"In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established."

And here how the scene played in the RotS novelisation:

That concealed compartment held a secure comlink, which was frequency-locked to a channel reserved for the commander in chief.

Kenobi nodded and spoke to his mount, and the great beast overleapt the clone commander on its way down into the battle.

Cody withdrew the comlink from his armor and triggered it.

A holoscan appeared on the palm of his gauntlet: a hooded man.

"It is time," the holoscan said. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

Cody responded as he had been trained since before he'd even awakened in his creche-school. "It will be done, my lord."

The holoscan vanished. Cody stuck the comlink back into its concealed recess and frowned down toward where Kenobi rode his dragonmount into selflessly heroic battle.

Cody was a clone. He would execute the order faithfully, without hesitation or regret. But he was also human enough to mutter glumly, "Would it have been too much to ask for the order to have come through before I gave him back the bloody lightsaber. . . ?"

The order is given once. Its wave-front spreads to clone commanders on Kashyyyk and Felucia, Mygeeto and Tellanroaeg and every battlefront, every military installation, every hospital and rehab center and spaceport cantina in the galaxy.

So there is really no “random hooded guy” calling clones to kill Jedi but Chancellor himself using an appropriately secured military channel with confirmation of his identity to issue a legal order in a critical situation (an opportunity created by the Jedi Council themselves who went into the Senate building to kill Palpatine). So why the clones shouldn’t listen, when the order came directly from the Supreme Commander of the Great Army of the Republic? 

Of course, the movie (and novel based on it) alone has this weird addition like “yes my Lord'', what I personally consider as the cinematic way to show the switch from Chancellor Palpatine to Emperor Darth Sidious. Still, I’m willing to give some benefit of doubt about the modification made by Kaminoans and if Order 66 could trigger anything hidden in clone subconscious. But even if there was something, it didn’t erase their personalities or changed the way clones behaved like it happened in The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch.

One way or another, the Order 66 worked out because clones “have no malice, no hatred, not the slightest ill intent that might give warning. They are only following orders”. Which I guess comes down to how clone troopers were presented - or maybe rather how they were seen by other characters in the Legends. As more detached, combat pragmatic, toned down, to some degree isolated from the outside world, less individual. Regardless of what Jedi or Republic citizens thought about clones, it did not make them any less human beings.

And here comes the paradox of The Clone Wars. The TV show made great effort to humanize clones by presenting them as very individual, outstanding people which in itself is a great thing. The names, the tattos, the different paintings of armours, visible variety of behaviour. All great to make the audience see clones as human beings, to get emotionally invested into them, because the more likeable clones were the better for marketing the story (and the cynical part of me thinks it really comes down to making money, isn’t it?)

But this effort became also the trap and the inhibitor chips is the excuse to make such loved, caring and brave characters into the detached clones gunning down the Jedi in Revenge of the Sith. 

The things that irks me a lot about this situation is the feeling like fans started care for clones because they were made into different type of characters than what they were (similar like Anakin’s movie characterization was thrown out of the window, to make him more suitable for fans who wanted the badass typical male hero instead of introverted, conflicted and traumatized young man). The clones get the visible individuality to make them the heroes we should root for, but then there is the “magical” switch that will cut down their heroic deeds because now they are “bad” and stormtroopers can’t have any personality. Which is just… frustrating. 

Don’t get me wrong, I adore how clone troopers get more visible individuality (even if sometimes if felt too exaggerated), but the “not standing out from the group”  was something that kept clones alive on Kamino and I can see why it was used as coping mechanism (the safe option) during the war. I regret that The Clone Wars didn’t show the transition from AotC nameless troopers into such individuals and how much it happened thanks to Jedi, what may help to build the feeling of supposed strong bond between Jedi and troopers. Because frankly, when we met TCW!clones, they already have names, different colors and marks on armor plates and helmets and for all we know, they could create their own “culture” without Jedi influence.

The final part of why I hate the chip-in-brain sub-plot is how it changed clones. Because even if that was a means to force clones into killing Jedi & ensure that Order 66 will be carried on no matter what, it shouldn’t change them into bullies toward their own brothers. But now in The Bad Batch, the clones don’t speak between themselves, are aggressive toward others and generally act like assholes for no real reason. And yeah, I get this may be a cinematic metaphor for a change from “good” republic soldiers into “bad” imperial stormtroopers and most likely something along the way “Republic/Jedi gave you individuality, Empire takes that away” but frankly, Republic did not give anything to clones. It did not acknowledge their human right, didn’t have any plan for their future, didn’t pay for their service or more expensive medical treatment for that matter, did not teach them they could - should - make their own choices.

Now clones are cheering for the Empire because inhibitor chips! They are assholes, because inhibitor chips! They shoot their *beloved* Jedi generals because of the chips! 

And in a way, I get this resolution, the chips make it clear clones were victims. But even without them, they were victims from the start. Except now clones are “programmed” while in Legends the senate (a power paying for their life) officially and legally renamed Republic into Empire and clones were glad for still having a purpose in life. The war ended (thus their usefulness), but they were still needed - still wanted - instead of being put down or closed at Kamino or whatever. I can see why the uncertainty of the future made clones cheering up for the Empire. And frankly, I personally prefer them not caring for the political change (because why should they? It never was their job to *judge* the rightness of their superiors) instead of being “programmed” like some droids and playing the role of fodder to kill for the “good guys”.

Dunno, if I explained properly my issue with inhibitor chips, it just feels to me as not really convincing and a too risky concept in the bigger picture of the things and the fact that Jedi just like that ignored this suspicion matter of Tup and Fives and biochips doesn’t help either. Like I said, I understand why the chips were introduced to the story, as the excuse in the change of clone troopers’ behaviour but at the end of day, Legends worldbuilding will always make more sense to me. I don’t need overly done differentiation of clones to care for them as an individual human beings (and it kinda seems to me like that, clones suddenly became fan favorite when every looks or act differently but not when the AotC literally presented them as an army created to blindly obey Jedi/Republic) and I don’t blame them for sticking with Empire because what better option they had, considering their upbringing and the pathological system in which they lived all their life?

Dunno, I’m biased and may just have allergy to TCW in general.

As for Omega, I’m not really surprised about this concern, especially after seeing TBB’s version of padawan Kanan (that if not for A) some basic knowledge about his backstory and B) Depa Billaba calling him by name, I would probably never have figured out who he was supposed to be). But for Omega alone, I don’t mind her look, because I’m used to Legends!Jango’s biological family in which his mother and sister were both blond haired women and frankly, some “defective” clones (including Rex?) apparently could be blond too, so it seems like Jango’s genome has a recessive gene somewhere for that color of hair. I try to hold my judgment about Omega and her appearance until the full backstory will be revealed because there is still a chance that Fett’s DNA was mixed with someone else's (still I hope Omega is not force sensitive…). I mean, Hunter has heightened senses while Wrecker has almost supernatural strength and both traits seem to be not really human, so who knows what Kaminoans really did with them.

 I understand people’s emotional response to Disney’s approach to characters and their visual look, especially since it isn’t the first screw up in New Canon (the models for characters in general and New Mandalorians especially). I’m totally okay with people’s criticism of that matter and demanding from Disney more diversity and respecting the already established ethnicity of certain groups. I’m aware I may not be sensitive enough to that matter as some other people (even more with barely watching TV shows to have any current and up-to-date comparison to trends in cartoons) and I’m pretty sure more qualified / invested fans already wrote or will be writing soon great metas about that. But the thing that irks me is hearing people saying that Omega *can’t* be Jango’s clone - I don’t like this sort of exclusion based on someone’s look alone. She may not look like Fett or other (male) clones but it is not something Omega chose for herself and does not erase her connection to the rest of the Bad Batch. Being angry at Disney/creators for her look is a different matter I don’t have any problem with.

[ghost0loxer]

Imagine, a gender fluid teenager like myself has a favourite/feel-good film and that film is “Just One of the Guys,”from the mid 80s.

Picture this: theatre class, we watch “She’s The Man”, a dreamworks film from the 2000s. And yet, the social justice issues within the film are glaringly obvious to today’s society. Don’t get me wrong, it can be a funny film in a group setting - but then there are scenes that are just uncomfortable. Now, we discussed these themes in class, but I just can’t help but think about the film that came before it. Yes, StM (she’s the mans) is a modern day adaption of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” but I was thinking about the modern day adaption before StM, “Just One of the Guys” from the mid 80s.

I love this film. For multiple reasons, which I hope to discuss.

Number one, our main character. Terry Griffith is stubborn. If she thinks something is right, she won’t let anyone say no or get in her way. Now in some cases, this is great. It’s definitely a shift in the usual romantic comedy female lead (especially for the 80s). But it’s one of her biggest flaws. In the beginning, Terry doesn’t win a contest for a part-time job at the Sun Tribune. She believes her article was amazing, but she speaks with her English teacher and he gives it to her straight. “You don’t have what it takes to be a reporter.” Her article is boring; it’s about the nutritional value of the lunch menu in the school cafeteria, of course it’s boring. But the words her teacher tells her has her convinced it’s because she’s a woman. Thus, she leaves school for two weeks and transfers as a buy to another school who are holding the same competition. Once she gives her article, she is told almost the same thing, but this time, she’s given proper feedback to improve it. Of course, there was some irony with this scene between Terry and the teacher. “Just because you’re guy, doesn’t mean you can’t be sensitive or light.” Thing is, she doesn’t give up, she strives to fix it and finds a new angle. I love her determination, I love the way she doesn’t let others push her around. Furthermore, her transition to a man. In StM, Viola as a guy is made to be cringey and comedic, you watch and think, there’s no way a guy would do that. But Terry, having grown up with a younger brother and is actually smart, manages to nail the role. Sure, she has slip-ups, but she stays afloat and she’s not being over the top. She’s chill and convincing, yet you as the audience can tell she’s trying to appear masculine. Her lines are witty and she’s sharp. Someone has something to say, she’ll be able to backtrack and answer with a joke or sarcasm quickly. I like smart characters.

Another point, the way women are written in this film. A lot of women in this film are treated like shit, but it’s probably a realistic depiction of the 80s. Everyone is talking about dating and sex, it seems to be the only topic the women in this film speak about, unless they are Terry. Terry seems to be the only character in this film whose main goal is not romance or sex. She strives to be a reporter, she wants to prove herself, and she rejects the advances upon her frequently. Whether it’s the boys asking her on dates in halls, or her own boyfriend attempting to seduce her when her parents aren’t home, she doesn’t put them above herself, yet she still lets them down easily, unless they become more pushy (case in point, her boyfriend, Kevin, in the beginning). She can stand up for herself, but she’s not the only one. Her best friend, Denise is one of the many women looking for love, nevertheless, she holds standards. I will admit, I didn’t like Denise’s acting in the beginning; she’s not a great character, but even she manages to reject men’s advances constantly. She’s not afraid to say it bluntly and she expresses her true emotions when certain guys try to ask her out. She tells it to them straight, and I respect her for that (despite her lack of empathy for some). Terry’s brother is constantly hitting on Denise, but she stands her ground. She doesn’t hit him or curse him out, she spins words around him and always lead back to the key word “no.”

This is my third, and maybe final point, (because I’m not great at writing but I’m starting to get tired) the way they handle sexual orientation. It seems if you’re going to make a film about a cross-dressing woman who falls in love with a man, you have to discuss sexuality and this film is not afraid to. That was my biggest beef with StM, when Viola confessed her love to Duke, the made it blatantly clear that it was “weird” and “unusual”; the editing and music cuts. It was done for comedic purposes, but in that moment, it just made me cringe. Even when the principal marched onto the field during the big match to expose Sebastian as “the woman he was all along,” he used a big megaphone and said to the whole crowd this man is in fact a girl. If it were to happen in the real world, and this character was a trans male, that would be traumatizing and so so insensitive. I couldn’t help thinking the way they handled the reveal in StM was poor and shitty.

But with JOotG (just one of the guys)? It’s done respectfully. Throughout the film, Buddy, Terry’s younger, sex-obsessed brother (I have thoughts on this character), often refers to Terry as a transvestite or sexually confused. They make references about her dating other women and jokes. It’s not treated like taboo, but just something people normally talk about, and as a questioning kid when I first watched the film, I really needed that. Although it was used for jokes, the fact that it wasn’t treated like a silent topic made me think more of it and discover who I was; it was media like this that made me accept myself.

Even with the reveal. Kevin, Terry’s boyfriend (or ex boyfriend by the end), stomps up to Terry after she’s wrestled with the school bully and was dumped into the waves at prom. Rick, who’s been Terry’s friend (and is the male lead) throughout her time at his high school, immediately questions who Kevin is and he responds with a harsh and sure “Terry’s boyfriend.” Of course, that doesn’t expose Terry as female, but makes Rick assume she’s a homosexual. But instead of calling her weird or replying negatively, he answers Kevin’s question calmly and says he’s just a friend. There is no prejudice, no disgust, Rick is shocked, but that’s expected. Furthermore, this reveal not only does not alienate homosexuality, it puts the center of focus on the main characters rather than have the whole audience/prom witness this exchange. Sure, the rest of the school is watching but the camera never pans over to them, and even then, Terry drags Rick away from the crowds to a secluded area to explain more.

Even once they’re secluded, Rick doesn’t yell at her or is homophobic. He just says “I understand, you’re gay.” As we know, Terry is not in fact gay and she reveals this to him in a similar fashion as StM, at least it’s not flashing a whole crowd. But the thing that hits me, is the fact that it’s not used as a joke or for comedy. Throughout the film, they’ve mentioned homosexuality and being transgender, but it was used as a light-hearted joke (nothing insulting or derogatory). In this moment, it’s not a joke, and it’s the bare minimum for a emotional scene like this, but it always hits me.

Of course, Rick gets justifiably mad that he’s been deceived and he storms off. Terry’s flaw catches up to her here, as she kisses him in front of the prom guests, stubborn to make him realize how much she cares. ( I didn’t agree with this action to be frank, I cringed ). The crowd gasps and it’s the usual reaction to a homosexual kiss and Rick just pulls back, says “It’s alright everyone, he’s got tits,” and leaves with Deborah.

In true romantic comedy fashion, life moves on. Terry gets the job at the Sun-Tribune after writing her article about posing as a guy and everyone who was longing for love in the beginning has found it, except Terry. The ending, however, is Rick coming back for her after a couple (days? Weeks? Idk all I know is it’s summer by the time he comes back, how much space between prom and summer?) and they kiss, go on a date and all is good.

Now after writing this long ass post, I’ve come to realize the main reason I like this film. Sure, Terry is a good character (not morally sometimes, but she’s interesting to watch), the way women are presented also is good, but my main source of affection for this film (in comparison to StM) is the way they handle the switching of genders. I’m gender fluid, I don’t always like being a woman or a man, I switch almost daily and half the time can’t decide if I want to grow out my hair or cut it. Seeing Terry, originally a woman, manage to convince people she was a guy made me wish I could do it too. It made me realize, I don’t always like being a woman. I want to be a guy sometimes, and I want that to be accepted. It was media like this, like Ouran High School Host Club, like Bare: A Pop Opera, that made me understand my gender and sexuality. (Even media that didn’t have any relation to LGBTQ+ helped).

When I first heard of “She’s the Man”, I had hoped it would be like these pieces of media. And it wasn’t. It was an alright film, but made me feel disappointed and somewhat let down. And that’s why I just prefer Just One of the Guys. Maybe it wouldn’t float in today’s political climate, maybe I’m wrong for seeing these points as reasons it’s one of my favorites, but its still better than StM and is one of my favourite films.

[pinkhairedlily]

Every Glance A Step Closer

Prompt: Glances | AO3 link here. Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

“This one barely goes out of her laboratory. I swear to god she smells like formaline.”

“He smells like the dust and cobwebs in the library. I cannot even pronounce what he’s doing – archi…something. I just know he handles lots of old papers and books. B-o-r-i-n-g.”

“So anyway, Haruno Sakura meet Uchiha Sasuke.”

This was her one free day in her experiment period week, but she needed to steam off for a night and so she allowed her friend to tug her along for a chill night drink. What Sakura didn’t expect was to socialize with a small group of people in their year and to suffer the cold indifference of the guy in front of her.

To her another surprise, he held out a hand to her. “Hello there.” She took it, slightly conscious whether she used her formaline-cancelling hand lotion. A brief and firm shake and he quicky turned away.

“Sasuke finally speaks.”

“That hello sounded a little spicier.”

“Oh my, that hand holding definitely had some electricity.”

The cajoling and teasing finally stopped when the first round of beers came in. Local university gossip was the go-to conversation opener, from the open secret student-teacher relationships to recent couple break-ups. It eventually led to Sasuke and his list of confessions.

“I heard you turned down Mio from fashion design department.”

“No way. I heard she was approached by Celine for a gig.”

“Really Sasuke? That makes her the fifth girl you dumped for this week alone.”

“You never actually had a girlfriend, did you?”

Sakura stared at him doe-eyed, genuinely curious of his answer. He returned her gaze and raised one brow. “I have high standards.”

Oh wow, what a douche, Sakura thought. Hoots erupted in their table but only for a few seconds. While the drinking and the exchanges went on, Sakura found herself wanting to go home early. She was bored and her neck was tired from not looking at him. Under the guise of stretching her already strained neck, she stole a glance, hoping to have a brief moment to take in all of his features and remember his face.

But he was already looking at her. His eyes went to the door of the restaurant then back to her. Bored? He mouthed.

Sakura looked at the door, knowing perfectly what he meant. She chugged her supposedly last bottle of beer and made a small gap with her thumb and index finger. He caught her signal and started to stand up. Their group was tipsy enough not to notice their sudden movements as they shuffled out of the door.

She halted after a few steps, Sasuke’s figure already paces in front of her, wondering whether she should say goodbye or just walk towards the opposite direction back to her apartment. She didn’t think too much of it and quickly chose the latter.

She had to get ice cream first though, a sugar rush to help jolt her senses awake. She was choosing between chocolate and strawberry when a large figure stood beside her.

“A vanilla one, please,” Sasuke said, looking smug with his hands both in his pockets. “Your treat.”

Sakura felt weirded out by the fact that he actively kept on engaging her. His reputation preceded him, but she decided to humor him for tonight. “So library science and you’re an archivist.”

“Intern archivist actually. So you actually know me.” There was arrogance in his voice that made Sakura almost choke on her ice cream.

“Process of elimination. There is no male major in our year in the History department.” She glanced at him and saw that smug look slowly transition into a slight flush of embarrassment. Cute.

“And what if it was a hobby?” Sasuke fiddled with his still unopened vanilla ice cream.

“There was a job posting in the bulletin specifically calling for Library Science students.” Their feet led them to the park still bustling with university night life and settled on a bench under the canopy of a fully bloomed dogwood tree. “See, I’m not your admirer.”

“Well, that’s a downer,” he smirked.

They talked like that for a while, fleetingly exploring related topics to their degree programs, the usual prominent teachers, the busy schedules, until Sakura finished her chocolate and strawberry popsicles. It was on her way home, finally this time, that she realized he never ate his ice cream.

--------------------------

She next saw him on their building’s rooftop with a group of friends, a piece of unsmoked cigarette in between his fingers. He quickly met her eyes, did a brief nod, and looked away. She inadvertently expected more than that but she wasn’t here for a smoke break, and it wasn’t her intention to take it further. She was here for a quick getaway from her microscope and to appreciate the city view dotted with the flowers of spring.

He kept glancing her way, however. He would be in the middle of a conversation and his eyes would stray to her, and she would catch it in her periphery, trying not to notice it. She got tired after a few repetitions of this, and the next time he glanced, she caught his gaze.

Stop it, she mouthed.

I’m bored, he mouthed back. Walk with me. His fingers mimicked the gesture, his fingers walking in the air.

She put her hands together and slightly bowed in apology. Next time, she winked at him before running back to her laboratory, a small smile painted on her lips.

--------------------------

It became like this for the next few weeks; they conversed through glances and awkward gestures whenever they were in public with their friends. When it was time to come home, they would walk in separate ways and meet again in the park under the same dogwood tree and they would converse for hours. It was mostly Sakura word-vomiting about her experiments while Sasuke would look at her with abandoned fascination.

“Stop doing that,” Sakura called him out one time.

“Stop doing what?” Sasuke asked, his ember eyes never leaving her face.

“You stare too much I feel like I’m melting.”

Sasuke made a small grunt and wore his hoodie over his head to mess with her more. He waved his hands on both sides of his face, and she immediately understood the reference of a horse having its blinders on. “Good because usually I’m the one being stared at.”

Sakura reached out to his hoodie and tightened the strings around his neck. “You’re hopeless.”

He leaned forward, almost touching her lips, his face still between her palms. “Hmm, maybe I am.”

Sakura moved away just as quickly as he moved into her personal space, a hot flush creeping to her cheeks. She hated this particular situation since blushing always made her look like a cherry tomato.

“Cute.” Sasuke apparently said his thoughts aloud because he was taken aback the moment she glanced back at him. “Cool, I said cool.”

She laughed this off just as he completely covered his face inside his hoodie.

--------------------------

She visited the basement section of the library for reference materials. Her writeup was due tomorrow and she was missing a section on historical evolution of vaccines and dosages for the viral DNA she uncovered. The small library slip in her hand, she made her way to the dimly lit rows on Biology. The shelves were twice taller than her, but there were spaces in between stacked books.

Would make it very easy to spot a ghost, Sakura chided to herself. A shadow moved along the row adjacent to the Biology section, but she dismissed this as the library staff. Her fingers traced the spines of ragged books and examined the list of recommended titles in her hand. When she raised her head, ember eyes stared back at her between the spaces of the opposite row.

Hi, Sasuke mouthed. He glanced around and seeing no one, he whispered, “Can I come over to your side?”

She found it hard to stop her grin from rising. “More eyes, the better.”

It took only a few minutes for Sasuke to find all the titles in her list, but they littered around, walking in between shelves, taking one random book and flipping its pages, stopping when they find something interesting. When heavy footfalls were heard on the stairs, Sakura inclined her head, gesturing she needed to go.

Sasuke seemed to misunderstand as he pulled her through the sleeve of her cardigan to the area further behind the room, and as the shadows grew darker, and the noise became more muted, she heard the racing beat of her heart.

Finally reaching the wall, Sasuke slumped to the floor and patted the space beside him. Sakura followed suit, consciously leaving a space between them as she was slowly becoming hyper-aware of their proximity.

“How are you faring so far? Done with the requirements?” Sasuke asked, his voice low but audible enough for her.

Sakura nodded, and after beat, rolled her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be out there assisting others?”

“I believe you need more immediate help.” Sasuke pulled his knees in to rest his chin on and trained his eyes on her. “Sakura.”

“Sasuke.”

The longest minute of silence hung between them, tension strung by the stare, until Sakura broke it off with her eyes shifting to the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Flirting,” he said like it’s a matter-of-fact. “This is what they usually do to me.”

“And what should I do?” She let the words roll out of her mouth, unsure why she asked, uncertain also of what he felt. She met his gaze again.

And in that moment, he just sincerely looked at her. “Flirt back.”

--------------------------

Sakura was done for the school year. She will be officially graduating in a month, and to celebrate, she went out with their group for a sem-ender discotheque clubbing. She was gonna shoot her shot for a one-night stand with literally anyone who had chemistry with her – haha she was just kidding. As this seemed to be the final cap-off to her university life, she went all out with her clothes Sakura-style – basically a boxy cropped tea, high waisted jeans, and old heels her best friend gave to her in pity.

This was actually her first club experience, but she was glad to be with veteran friends. The first few minutes inside a closed space with bass boosted, unfamiliar crowds, and lots of skinship made her very uncomfortable. Her only reprieve was the free-flowing drinks – ironically she can handle alcohol well. The disco lights would have made it difficult to spot faces, but she found him in the dark, on the corner directly across her group, his eyes already glued on her.

She wondered if he ever forgave her for scrambling out of his presence in the reference section last time, explicitly avoiding his request to flirt back. It seemed like she worried for nothing since Sasuke raised his glass to her and mouthed congratulations. She raised her glass back, resolving to mind her own business tonight. But he kept looking, a smirk etched on his beautiful face, urging her to meet him halfway.

She didn’t need to look for an excuse as her friends suddenly pulled her into the harmless mosh pit of friendly grinding. Sakura allowed herself to move to the beat, enjoying the bubble offered by the club to lose herself for a few seconds. But she kept glancing towards his direction, his eyes looking for her in the mass of bodies. At first, the glances were mischievous, like playing hide-and-seek, then they held gravity, heavy lidded and palpable.

Sasuke was impatient, and soon enough, at her next spin on her heels, he was right behind her, his hands hovering over her arms, seeking consent to touch. Sakura turned to face him, one part shy, other parts unnerved, and she slowly encircled her arms around his neck, her eyes a definite yes. His hands went to her waist, and he brought her closer to his embrace.

“You don’t have your hoodie though,” Sakura said, a little louder over the crooning of Carly Rae Jepsen to Gimmie Love. “Someone will definitely see you.”

Sasuke closed whatever distance was between them and brought his lips to her ears. “That’s a relief then. I want to be seen with you.”

“Simp,” Sakura teased. “You’re probably expecting a confession out of me, aren’t you?” This was a long time coming and she wanted to get it over with tonight especially when she had alcohol buzzing on her side.

“I am actually,” Sasuke said. “I was hoping to beat you to it in the library last time, but you ran away. Coward.”

“What?”

“What? Didn’t you hear me?”

“You like me.” Sakura said in realization. She edged her face away from his hold to take a good look at his embarrassed face. “Oh, you really do.”

“You could be dense sometimes, Sakura.” Sasuke poked her forehead playfully, and he was rewarded with a bubbly laughter from her.

Their friends finally noticed them and the intense skinship happening. The yells and woots started to drown out the speakers.

“That took you two long enough, huh?”

“They really waited for the end of the school year to do their big reveal.”

“As if the whole school doesn’t know already.”

“What?” Sasuke and Sakura asked in unison.

“It was the constant eyesmex.”

“Really, they do it every time with no shame. It gives me secondhand embarrassment.”

“Right? Sometimes I think I need to yell get a room.”

“Maybe they’ll get a room tonight.”

“Oh my god, shut up."

🌸 It's my first time participating actively for SS Month so please go easy on me haha. Work is loosely inspired by Nevertheless webtoon (which now has a Netflix adaptation). Hope you enjoyed reading!

[writerofthespiral]

Kane's Court Analysis #1 - Phule

Author’s Note: I don’t know if I’ll make this a full series or not, but I really just thought that the Armada court, and Phule by that extension, was interesting, especially read from a historical and psychological standpoint. Yes, I'm a nerd.

Word Count: 4,205

Tw: Mentions of Mental Illness

Kane’s Court Analysis - Phule

I. Introduction

A lot can be said about Kane’s court and the machines he built to achieve his grandiose ideas of a perfect world, but more can be said about the cogs in his system. Phule is a broken cog — one that stepped out of line, helped us, and saved the day. He’s someone to be cautious of, love, or fear. There's a certain complexity about him that, when put into perspective, adds a fresh layer to Phule.

II. Behind the Design

When talking about a character in any game, film, or media space, it’s important to tackle the significance of their design. Oftentimes, a person can tell a lot about someone from their looks, which is especially true for the Armada Elites. Phule, for example, is obviously based on a court jester, but it’s not all jokes and laughs.

The Meaning Of The Mask

When talking about Phule’s appearance — or any of the Armada Elite’s — it’s important to understand that they’re mainly based on the Venetian Carnival, the Commedia dell’Arte, and Greek theatre (with hints of Roman influence). Phule’s mask is based on four different masks: The Joker Mask, Comedy & Tragedy, the Pantalone Mask, and the Arlecchino Mask.

The most straight-forward element about Phule is the Jester Mask, seeing as he is a jester. Simply put, "The Joker or Jolly Venetian Masks depict the role of the Jester in the Italian Middle Ages...The Jesters... wore brightly colored clothing in a motley pattern and they were known for their incessant laughter" (Venetian Mask Company). The Jester Mask represents someone who is colorful and entertaining to his audience. It's a universally known mask meant to be taken at face value, just like Phule, until one looks at the other key components of his mask.

When looking at Phule, one sees the famous Comedy & Tragedy Mask associated with theatre and the extremes between euphoria and sorrow. But what most don't know is that the mask has a long, rich history associated with emotions and the human psyche. According to The Greek Designers, "The Comedy mask is known as Thalia, who in Greek mythology is the Muse of Comedy and Idyllic Poetry, portrayed as a happy, cheerful young woman crowned with ivy" (The Greek Designers). The Tragedy mask, in turn, is known as Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy, who's depicted with the mask in one hand and a knife or club in the other.

The historical significance fails to stop there. "People often relate the masks to Dionysus originally. Dionysus is the Greek God of wine. The masks depict the happy and sad emotions that drinking wine can bring. They have also been linked to the Greek God Janus which is known as the two-faced god of beginnings. It is said Janus lent the name to the masks" (OnStage Blog). This detail is important, because Dionysus and Janus are both significant Gods. Commonly known as the God of wine and ecstasy, Dionysus was the God of madness. And as the God of madness, he was often a symbol of liberation and rebellion for the lower class and marginalized of Greek society — namely slaves. Then, there’s Janus, known as the two-faced Roman God, representing the transition between war and peace, and beginnings and endings.

In addition to this two-faced mask, Phule's mask has hints of the Pantalone Mask. The Pantalone Mask's features include: an exaggerated nose, cheekbones, eyebrows, and a mustache. The Pantalone Mask is the best-known Venetian Masks. It arose from the La Commedia dell’ Arte character, Pantalone, who was one of the most powerful characters. But, the mask itself was created before the Commedia dell’Arte theatre began to use it.

The character of Pantalone is described as “An old Venetian merchant, often very rich and highly esteemed by the nobility, Pantalone is originally known simply by his formal title, Magnifico. A self-made man, he has reached his wealth with ruthless tactics and keeps his money close to him" (The Venetian Mask). He is rich, greedy, lustful, and naïve. Pantalone is, “gullible enough for being taken advantage of from his “servant lovers” or male subordinates: servants, doctors, captains, whoever can get money out of him" (Roberto Delpiano).” His lust also leads to him being rejected by the women he pursues, making him an enemy of the youth.

Applying the Pantalone Mask to Phule, it’s easy to see why he and the Pirate — for the majority of the game — were enemies seeing as Pantalone is a natural enemy to the young. However, it also implies that he was taken advantage of by those around him and was a laughing stock. And, of course, his willingness to save himself and betray his father to save himself is 'selfish' in nature — more on that later.

The last mask, of course, is the Arlecchino Mask (which also inspires Phule's general get-up). More commonly known as the Harlequin Mask, the wearer serves a similar purpose to the Jester, which evolved over time. According to one article:

"As one of the lower ranking, lazier, and stupider servants, he [Arlecchino] is often abused by being yelled at or beaten (with slapstick stage combat) by his masters and others or never paid his wages. Yet he does have a certain luck and can be clever enough to grab hold of any seemingly fortunate situation that happens upon him. He might not think up a plan on his own but he can come up with some amazingly complicated and absurd explanations and rationalizations. Later period harlequins were more prone to become clever tricksters and rascally tramps while still often being foolish or stupid" (Commedia Dell'Arte).

On top of being a tragic figure for the entertainment of others, Arlecchino is said to have demonic origins. “One of the demons in the XXIst, XXIInd and XXIIIrd cantos of Dante’s Inferno is, indeed, called Alichino. The name itself seems to be related to the Old French word for “ghost”, i.e. hellequin, which, in turn, comes from the Germanic root for “hell”. Starting from Dante’s Inferno, this demon would therefore develop into a comic character" (CA’ MACANA). In a way, this gives one some insight into Phule not being a monster, but a tormented soul.

What It Means To Be A Court Jester

One can’t analyze Phule without talking about what he is — a court jester. But his role is no laughing matter. In fact, in a historical context, Kingisle did a decent job in portraying him.

To understand fools, it’s important to understand the three different types of fools: the innocent fool (or natural fool), the amateur fool, and the professional jester (or licensed fool). A natural fool was someone with physical or mental deformities that made it hard for them to receive employment as anything else. Typically, “wealthy or noble families also adopted men and women who had mental illnesses or physical deformities, keeping them almost as pets for their amusement or as an act of ‘Christian charity’”(History extra).

A licensed fool, on the other hand, could best be described as someone hired for their wits and talents, normally wearing regular clothes. Lastly, there were Amatuer fools — they usually wore the jester costume we’re associated with. In any case, “..those with physical deformities, such as extreme hunchback, malformed limbs, particularly ugly visages, etc. were prized, as were dwarves…” (TodayIFoundOut). Taking this into account, and the brazen nature of Valencia, it’s apparent Phule served as both a natural fool and a licensed fool, possibly serving as entertainment for King Casimir. But seeing as court jesters had duties other than entertainment, Phule served Kane very differently.

Although we didn’t see the entertainment-based responsibilities of Phule, we, as players, did see part of his militaristic responsibilities. That’s right — court jesters served important roles to their lord during times of war. In fact, they were political advisors. “Because they had no real fear of reprisal, jesters were able to speak their mind and offer advice when others may have feared to give it” (WeirdHistory). Kings and Queens would often go to them for advice on political matters and choices they’d made. On top of that, Court Jesters were expected to be the bearers of bad news for their lords, having to utilize their wit and comedy to tactfully deliver unsavory messages.

In addition to delivering messages to their lords, jesters would also deliver messages to their enemies during times of war. They were theoretically protected, but there were some that would shoot the messenger — from imprisonment to execution. In addition to their messenger duties, jesters would entertain the King’s troops during times of war to raise their morale.

On top of that, they were also masters of mental warfare as well. Some jesters would ride on the front lines, spewing insults at the enemy. They rode in front of troops to make sure the opponent could hear them. And while this may seem ridiculous, "...the idea was for the jester to provoke those enemies who had explosive tempers into breaking ranks and charging prematurely" (Weird History).

Phule did his job, and did it well, despite his apparent shortcomings. He got under our Pirate’s skin by claiming that he could hear our heartbeat, and lead his own squadron of soldiers. He’s just as threatening when we next see him captured in Fort Elena, albeit much friendlier. And of course, he still manages to affect the Pirate, though he has little time on screen, by causing us a few inconveniences.

He may not have been Spymaster, but he was effective in implanting fear and paranoia in his enemies. Take, for example, the Villa Trigante instance in which the Pirate is — presumably —betrayed and sent to the cellars by Don Giovanni. One of the resistance fighters we face, Beniccio Amati, is quick to say: "You're persistent. I'd expect no less... From Phule's spies…” (P101). And although we aren’t one of Phule’s spies, it makes one wonder: Just how many times has this happened?

In addition to his competence, we can presume Phule is powerful. He’s clearly akin to a Witchdoctor, but we don’t know much else about him. We have, however, seen the results of a battle with him. He cleared a path for the Pirate to enter The Machine, in which, there are plenty of Armada soldiers strewn about. It’s possible that his abilities manifested themselves similarly to Bishop’s use of electricity, that he had some mojo capabilities comparable to Kane (meaning that he could possibly teleport), or that he is wholly chaotic and mojo-based like the Player (if they're a Witchdoctor). If the latter is true, it plays into what Phule said about being destroyed due to being imperfect, especially since the Armada banned hoodoo within their sphere of influence. In any case, it is interesting to see how so much can be told from Phule’s character design alone, but there's still more to explore.

III. Character Analysis

Kingisle put a lot of thought into what type of character Phule would be. According to his Rouge’s Gallery video, Phule “seems to operate purely out of whimsy and caprice” (KI) and “speaks in two different voices, shifting back and forth between twin personalities who are as antagonistic toward each other as they are to any enemy…” (KI). Phule isn’t all there, but make no mistake: he is very capable of doing what he does. The video goes on further to elaborate “that Phule shifts allegiances faster and more often than any other court member”(Ki), which makes sense with how his relationship with the Pirate turns out — which will be touched on later — and gives the player a basic idea of who Phule is, though there is more to analyze.

Our Meetings With Phule

Besides a few outside sources, most of what we know about Phule comes from the three times we see him: Granchia, Fort Elina, and at The Machine (with the exception of the Villa Trigante Cellar), in which a lot more can be observed.

When we first meet Phule in the Granchia Catacombs, the Pirate sees him leading a small squadron of soldiers. It is here that we first meet the two sides of Phule (whom I will refer to as Comedy and Tragedy).

Comedy is a mix between welcoming, eccentric, and mischievous. In one breath he says “Don’t bother trying to hide, I can hear your heartbeat” (P101), yet he also claims to want to let us go. Furthermore, he calls the Pirate resourceful, saying that, “you’d be quite a thorn in the side of Deacon, Bishop, or Kane himself…” (P101). Meanwhile, it is Tragedy that orders his captains to attack us, calling for our surrender.

What's interesting about this first meeting, upon reflection, is that Comedy seems to think about helping us. I’m not suggesting that one side of Phule is ‘good’ and the other is ‘evil’, but that Tragedy seems more inclined to be protective of whatever is in Phule’s best interests. Comedy, on the other hand, is Phule’s desires. This may be why the two sides often disagree. One side thinks we’d be useful in his desired goals while the other does what needs to be done.

When the Pirate discovers Phule in Fort Elena, their interaction is short, but something to note: Phule slightly warms up to the Pirate. Tragedy is still hostile, but comes off as though he was attempting to keep up a facade. Comedy, of course, is the opposite, going so far as to ask us about why we weren’t in Cool Ranch messing with Deacon. In fact, Comedy gives us a well done, because “...[you’ve] become quite the thorn after all” (P101), then tells us to run along with our quest.

And then, there’s the final time we see Phule — right before the machine. Instead of arguing, both sides of Phule are working together for a common goal: to oppose Kane. Both sides of Phule were waiting for us at the machine, both of them told us Kane’s plan, and both agreed to give the Pirate the Key.

And why does he do this? Phule is able to recognize that he isn’t perfect as Kane would say, in his own words. As Comedy it’s, “I've grown fond of this world, and would hate to see it destroyed. I've also grown fond of you. But most of all? I'm just curious to see what will happen" (P101). And after Tragedy sends his regards to Kane, this is the last we see of Phule.

Another thing of note, is when Gazpaccio calls Phule a tormented soul, which begs the question: Does Kane see Phule in the same light he sees Gazpaccio? More than likely, yes, which may have influenced the way he treated the Clockwork. Another thing — how well Gazpaccio and Phule knew each other? Sadly, there’s not much to work with to answer this question.

In any case, these events reveal the type of person Phule is: part of him is chaotic and wants freedom, the other side of him is objective, if not spiteful. Together, the two sides of Phule make a being that is neither wholly good, nor bad, but certainly eccentric, which begs the question: What is Phule to us, the Pirate?

Friend Or Foe?

Although it’s safe to say that Phule is on friendly terms, he and the Pirate aren’t exactly friends. He did betray Kane, but had ulterior motives of his own. And while it appears he’s been contemplating his betrayal for some time, there have also been times when he’s antagonized the Pirate. We also know that he’s a jack-of-all-trades with experience in espionage, being a general, and an admiral. And referring back to the Rouge’s Gallery, “the most paranoid Valencian intriguers wonder if Phule’s antics aren’t just a clever act, hiding a method behind the madness” (KI).

The thing is, we may never truly know if we can or cannot trust Phule. While he may not be our friend per se, our goals aligned, and it's been established that Phule’s alliances don't often last long. He may laugh and revel in the failure of his fellow court members, but he isn't there to like us. In fact, we may serve as a form of entertainment to him, because Phule did watch us instead of fighting by our side (which he clearly showed himself capable of doing). But, it's unlikely he’s going to show up as a foe in the future, and it would be a surprise if that were the case. It’s more likely that Phule simply disappeared somewhere, and the player may never know what happened to him.

The State of Phule’s Mind

Before ending this section, it’s critical to talk about Phule in terms of his light and dark side. While in the game, he is described as eccentric or insane, it’s clear that Phule is mentally ill by our standards. And although it’s hard to judge him by human standards, due to the fact that he's a Clockwork, since Clockworks have shown their ability to showcase complex emotions, they can exhibit mental illnesses.

In Phule’s case, he likely has Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), but here are some important things to understand: you cannot be born with DID, an alter is not necessarily a different personality, and the portrayal of Phule is not wholly accurate. Again, Phule isn’t a human, though his backstory does somewhat align with the development of this disorder.

DID usually occurs in children who have undergone immense stress and trauma for long periods of time, and as a result, were not able to develop a unified sense of identity due to the weight of their memories. Due to this, they develop a system of alters in order to cope with day-to-day life. Similarly, Phule was created to be perfect by a narcissistic father who could never admit to being wrong, and as a result, his mind was ‘off', and he was written as 'insane'.

Phule also has two distinct alters: his light side (Comedy) and his dark side (Tragedy). Comedy is whimsical, friendly, and mischievous and may very well serve as the host, as he seems to front the most, talk the most, and has the most lines out of any of the events. While Tragedy may serve as either a protector, seeing himself as a beacon of logic and strength doing what needs to be done; or a prosecutor, who may have protective goals in an attempt to keep the system from reliving the trauma and abuse they’ve faced, but tend to be harmful and have a distorted view of reality.

In any case, understanding the two sides of Phule is essential to understanding him as a character. He is someone who’s been persecuted due to both his appearance and his mind, which he could not control, and it clearly has had an effect on him.

IV. Phule & Kane’s Court

In analyzing who Phule is as a character, it's just as important to ask why he is the way he is. It’s easy to see how he developed, but, due in part to a lack of backstory, the question of why is somewhat hazy. The player is given a few details in the form of implications about Phule, but also information that was info dumped that leaves behind more questions than answers.

What Was Phule’s Role In The Court

Cannonly, nobody really knows Phule’s role in the court. As said by the Rouge’s Gallery:

“He is neither general nor admiral, though he has captained Armada fleets and armies. He is no spymaster, yet he has performed espionage and been involved in the deepest of Bishop’s intrigues. He is the ultimate wild card, appearing in the most unlikely of places from the Great Halls of the Palaces of the Spiral to the humble backwaters of Skull Island” (KI).

As a character with multiple roles, Phule proves himself to be a valuable player and a jack of all trades. Due to this, one can assume that he would have been more sociable than the rest of the court, or at the very least close to it, due to the fact that it’s established that his allegiances are often fleeting. Though, it can be speculated that his strongest relationship may have been with either Bishop, seeing as he worked for him, or Deacon since both of them seemed to be the most active of Kane’s court.

In relation to the historical context within Pirate101, I could also possibly see Phule being a sort of voice of reason for members of Kane’s court — at least those who would listen. We know what Phule thinks of Kane, but have never actually seen Kane interact with Phule on screen, so the details are murky here. On top of speaking with Kane’s court, it’s possible that Phule entertained and advised King Casimir, in addition to Kane.

Aside from military duties, with how festive Phule is — in concept at least — he may have either planned out various events in Valencia, or at the very least been apart of them. After all, Phule is a court jester, and one of the fundamental jobs that comes with being a court jester is making other people laugh.

Phule’s Relationship With Kane

Another important part of who Phule is is his personal relationship with Kane. Kane is many things: a military genius, a diplomatic wonder, and effective in ruling with an iron fist, but he fails as a father — just as his father failed before him. Kane is a narcissist who expects everything he creates to be unquestionably perfect, which is why he looks at Phule with absolute scorn.

Phule is what he would, likely, consider a worthless child. He wasn’t born right in his eyes, yet Kane continues to use and depend on Phule for his missions. It’s likely that Kane wanted to keep Phule in place, as he did with his other court members, but Phule is the only elite who’s not based on a chess piece.

Phule is a wild card who knew he wouldn’t live up to Kane’s expectations, and he decided to save himself. And although this choice may seem selfish, it’s important to remember that many victims tend to stick around for various reasons — sometimes they aren’t mentally capable or able to leave. We, the player, have seen Phule express himself, and learn kindness. And although he may have hurt people in the past, he was willing to make up for it.

He decided to leave behind a father that never loved him, and never would love him or see him as an equal. He had every right to be scornful and bitter, maybe even take after Kane, but he broke free from the cycle and decided to help the Player because he maybe, genuinely, fell in love with the world that never loved him and all its flaws. That is the beauty of Phule’s character. He’s neither here, nor there, but he’s just as human as you or I — ignoring all the cogs, of course.

V. Conclusion

In terms of character design, personality, and backstory speculation, Phule is a great character despite the little screen time he got. He may be one of the strongest members of Kane’s court, is definitely one of the more mysterious ones, and is an interesting, tormented soul. Whether or not he’s friend or foe, Phule illuminates the environment around him.

Works Cited

CA’ MACANA. “The Arlecchino Mask: a Motley History.” The Best Venetian Carnival Masks in Venice: Ca' Macana, www.camacana.com/en-UK/the-arlecchino-mask.php.

Commedia Dell'Arte. “ARLECCHINO.” Mayhem, Madness, Masks and Mimes - Commedia Dell'Arte, mayhemmadnessmasksandmimes-commediadellarte.weebly.com/arlecchino.html#:~:text=Arlecchino's%20costume%20and%20mask%20are,Arte'%20Character%20Analysis%22).

“Drama Masks: Thalia + Melpomene.” The Greek Designers, 6 Nov. 2018, thegreekdesigners.com/2016/03/07/drama-masks-thalia-melpomene/.

“Jester (Jolly or Joker).” Masquerade Masks & Venetian Masks Company, www.italymask.co.nz/shop/Decorative+Masks/Jester+JollyJoker%3Fcat=01108.html#:~:text=The%20Joker%20or%20Jolly%20Venetian,known%20for%20their%20incessant%20laughter.

KingsIsle, director. Pirate101 Rogue's Gallery: Phule. YouTube, YouTube, 3 June 2015, www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VdwBDdeMYo&list=WL&index=69&ab_channel=KingsIsleEntertainment.

“Pantalone Mask.” Kartaruga, 7 Aug. 2017, kartaruga.com/mask/pantalone-the-magnificent/.

“Pantalone Masks.” THE VENETIAN MASKS, 21 Jan. 2021, www.thevenetianmasks.com/pantalone-masks/.

Staff, OnStage Blog. “The Origins of the Comedy and Tragedy Masks of Theatre.” OnStage Blog, OnStage Blog, 21 June 2020, www.onstageblog.com/editorials/comedy-and-tragedy-masks-of-theatre.

TodayIFoundOut, director. What Was It Actually Like to Be a Court Jester in Medieval Times? YouTube, YouTube, 31 Oct. 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkLZYEIslWM&ab_channel=TodayIFoundOut.

“Welcome to the Pirate101 Wiki.” Pirate101 Wiki :: The Largest and Most Accurate Pirate101 Wiki :: Featuring Guides, Companions, Quests, Pets, Bosses, Creatures, NPCs and Much More!, www.pirate101central.com/wiki/Pirate101_Wiki.

“What Life Was Really Like As A Medieval Jester.” YouTube, YouTube, 3 Apr. 2020, www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7F5ioUQLJc&ab_channel=WeirdHistory.

“What Was Life like for a Court Jester?” HistoryExtra, 26 Nov. 2020, www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/what-was-life-like-for-a-court-jester/.

www.delpiano.com, Roberto Delpiano -. “PANTALONE.” Pantalone | Pantalon De' Bisognosi | Grevembroch Watercolor | Traditional Mask of Venice Carnival, www.delpiano.com/carnival/html/pantalone.html.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

“Faggot.” “Cocksucker.” “Femboy.” “Abomination.” Gay. The list of names I’ve been called since coming out as bisexual in June 2020 doesn’t stop there — nor did it stop when I went public with my sexual identity either.

From a young age, I knew I was different from my peers.

Maybe it was the way I walked. Or the way I talked. Or the way I dressed. I just knew I stood out to them like a sore thumb — or perhaps a rainbow of color in a sea of dull gray.

My differences became evident to me when other children at the preschool I attended in suburban San Diego, California, would forsake my company in favor of each other, already forming cliques and inciting drama at such an innocent age.

When my family and I moved to dreary Erie, Pennsylvania, I knew my struggles would only get worse.

Many of the children in my kindergarten class had already known each other for several years before I entered the picture.

They quickly noticed differences in my mannerisms, speech patterns, thoughts and ideas. I wasn’t like the other boys, but I wasn’t like the girls either. I was an outlier, a foreigner and a stranger considered dangerous and unwelcome.

Though I made friends the following few years — including some who would become lifelong companions — most of those primary friendships mirrored the kernels of a neglected ear of corn: delicious when ripe but quick to harden, rot and flake off.

By my fourth grade year, I was teased and bullied nearly daily for being too feminine, too weird, too annoying to fit into my school’s social circles.

When I told my teachers about my struggles, their solution was to attempt to masculinize me by placing me in groups of athletic boys in my class, boys I had nothing in common with and who certainly had nothing in common with me.

Even my grandparents — then and now my caretakers — noticed my un-boyish behavior and enrolled me in the local little league baseball team — whether to also attempt to instill in me a sense of masculinity and male toughness or to help me make new friends I knew not.

I would grudgingly participate in the sport for six, nigh on seven grueling years, never making a single lasting friend and crying almost weekly from the torment it caused me.

Needless to say, I felt like a floundering fish without fins in a sea of angry, hungry sharks during those years.

It wasn’t until the final year of my elementary education that I was introduced to the concepts of puberty, adolescence and sex.

I was told that very soon, I would start noticing the girls in my class and would begin to want to form meaningful relationships with them. Eventually, I would become sexually attracted to them and want to have children with them.

But in those coming years, though many girls would pique my interest, it wasn’t them who ignited the fire in my soul and made me feel the burning passion of desire — it was men.

I quickly realized it was this that set me apart from my male peers and resulted in me being shunned by the girls. I was a boy — soon to be a man — in every physical way, but I wasn’t attracted to or passionate about girls like the other boys in my class were. I was obsessed with men.

But I couldn’t possibly be gay, could I?

Growing up in a household of religious relatives, I was always taught that sex before marriage was a wicked abomination and that being anything but straight was a sin comparable to none.

I distinctly remember watching a news broadcast with my family around the time I was transitioning to my middle school years. The ABC World News clip showcased LGBT marriages being performed out west and contained affirming remarks from then-President Barack Obama on the matter.

“The Bible says marriage is between a man and a woman,” I remember my aunt saying in utter disgust at the television, murmurs of agreement echoing her around the room.

I resolved then to hide my feelings and my pubescent curiosity from my family at all costs, lest I be scolded, shunned or worse: abandoned.

During middle school, I relentlessly dug deep within myself and attempted to alter what I thought was but a simple mental barrier to social normality. All thoughts of being with men were forcibly suppressed in my mind before they could even become tangible, and each of my increasingly urgent bodily needs went ignored and unsatiated.

I even resorted to religion, the only weapon I thought strong enough to aid me in the war raging inside myself.

Day and night, I attempted to “pray the gay away,” but to little avail. Much to my chagrin, I realized that even divine intervention could not “help” me: My homosexuality seemed to be an immortal, malignant tumor infecting each and every one of my thoughts.

Thus, the preliminary years of my second decade of life became miserable and unfulfilling — I was engaged in a fierce battle with an integral aspect of my identity and was inadvertently shattering the chains that bound a beast capable of obliterating every fiber of my cognitive being — anxiety.

By my high school years, men — mean, nasty and indifferent but awe-inspiring, mystifying and oh-so-gorgeous men — had begun to control my deepest, darkest desires and fantasies. My lust had grown large enough to thwart even my most furious attempts at diminishing it.

As I slowly came to terms with the realization that nothing in the universe could “fix” me, my mental situation severely worsened. I fell into a dangerous downward spiral of self-doubt and woefulness.

My relationship with my grandparents quickly began to deteriorate, as did my relationships with my friends. Every day brought with it a new reason to hate my existence — the constant verbal altercations, the continued teasing and even bullying at school, the countless lonely nights spent sobbing quietly into my pillow.

And, to make matters worse, the true nature of my sexuality seemed to express itself in each of my social mannerisms. It wasn’t long before despicable rumors about me spread through the student body of my high school like wildfire.

My teachers noticed my strife, and some took the time to speak with me about a few of the different mental illnesses they suspected I had. But not even they could halt the hordes of horrifying thoughts racing through my head or the string of ruthless comments that would assault me in the hallways.

Soon, however, the light at the end of the long, grueling tunnel that was public education began to shine: I was graduating from high school and about to start fresh. Nothing could have contained my excitement at the prospect of escaping the largest source of my daily torment.

As I digested the freedom going to college offered, idealistic daydreams began to flood my mind — I could live how I wanted with whomever I wanted, and no one could judge me or tell me differently.

How wrong I was.

My first year as an undergraduate student at Penn State Behrend was a living hell.

Though the petty and immature teasing of high school was no longer an issue, standing up for my newfound political identity was, as well as dealing with my growing anxiety.

I was constantly engaged in polite yet heated political debates with those in my dorm. I felt like they were blatantly attempting to oppress me with their own beliefs and had grown to hate me for mine.

The same situation occurred with my grandparents, and we grew increasingly distant over the course of that year.

It didn’t help that I was still “in the closet,” so to speak, and contemplating methods of publicly revealing my true sexual identity. I hadn’t yet officially told anyone I was bisexual, and it remained my most closely guarded secret.

Needless to say, my social circumstances and the added stress of my adjustment to college academics and lifestyle allowed my mental state to reach an unprecedented low. I needed help.

That same year, I saw my family physician and then a psychiatrist, who prescribed me antidepressants in an attempt to lessen my now untameable anxiety. I took them with gusto and also began attending therapy sessions to teach me how to manage my thoughts and emotions.

For a small while, I felt better — I was actually happy in my skin and even happy with my bisexuality.

But then, even my long-awaited mental comfort abandoned me, and I slipped into the deepest, darkest pit of my life.

I became suicidal but never acted on that petrifying potentiality.

I didn’t trust myself to be alone, so I constantly sought the company of others, which only made me feel like a nuisance and waste of time, energy and space.

About a month later — in October 2018 — I got into an accident.

I was barrelling down the highway, escaping a particularly heated verbal altercation with my grandfather. It was raining that day, and the roads were slippery.

Going around a curve, I lost control of my vehicle and flew into a small ravine, flipping not once, not twice but three times in midair before landing upright — dazed, but alive.

Escaping relatively physically unscathed from the incident, with only a broken right clavicle, I was not mentally the same for weeks afterward.

I decided at that time I would come out and reveal my true sexuality at the soonest possible opportunity — I blamed my silence on every terrible situation that had occurred in my life up to that point. If I didn’t come out, I quite literally thought I would die.

Telling even my closest friends was difficult, but I managed, and the relief I felt was paramount to that of the titan Atlas in Greek mythology: I felt like the weight of the entire world — sky and all — had been lifted from my shoulders.

Fast forward to the present: I’m alive, well, out and proud. I’m no longer ashamed of my innate traits or of my thoughts.

Being a bisexual man has taught me many lessons, but foremost among them is that the people who can’t accept me for who and what I am don’t deserve to be in my life.

My anxiety made it difficult to let go of toxic relationships over the years — I learned that the primary source of my mental strife is a fear of abandonment by those I care about — but doing so opened the door to newer, healthier relationships that build me up and boost my confidence instead of chipping away at it.

I’ve since improved tremendously, and not even the onset of the coronavirus pandemic was able to pause my progress. Every day is a learning experience, and I’ve grown so much from the helpless boy I was mere months ago that if you showed me a map of my mentality from 2018, 2019 or even 2020, I wouldn’t recognize myself at all.

Revealing my bisexuality to the world didn’t solve all my issues — there were and still are other factors that contribute to my anxiety and mental health — but coming out was perhaps the most profound, life-altering moment in my 21 years. Nothing compares to the freedom I now enjoy, nor will any other experience compare to the relief I felt following my announcement.

[verus-veritas]

Collan's Caption This Catch Up

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. Coming to live in a college dorm after years of a hermit-like high school existence was culture shock. Back home I was the weird, skinny nerd, the token gay social outcast who did his best to avoid the rest of the small-minded, small town denizens who were all too willing torment the obvious outsider given the slightest opportunity, never mind that I had been born there just like the rest of them. So I had made sure the opportunities they got were few and far between, and I had assumed I would continue staying out of the way in college. Keeping my head down was a winning strategy. Why mess with success? What I hadn't counted on was the reality of being forced to live cheek-by-jowl with a seeming unending parade of ideal male bodies. Within the first hour I was overwhelmed by them. On the paths of the campus they walked, in the lounges of the dorm they casually relaxed, in the halls they fist bumped with their bros, and one in particular even invaded my room. I had requested a single room and had thought it had gotten approved, but in typical bureaucratic fashion I showed up on the first day of Freshman orientation to find someone already occupying an obvious double room. I had a roommate. Cullen McCathers. From that very first day, I discovered that even though he spoke to me in a friendly enough fashion and I apparently responded appropriately to the conversation, none of it really registered. He remained a remote and unattainable object despite our sharing a living space, because my thoughts, my gaze, the core of my very being seemed to be pulled into his orbit on a visceral level. He was muscled and toned like a fitness model, and he had a strong face that lit up when he smiled. His voice was sexy, his eyes were sexy, his walk was sexy. His scent, whenever I managed to get a whiff of it, drove me wild with desire, and after watching him unself-consciously change in our room to go take a shower, I knew he was hung so big that I wondered how he dealt with all of that meat in his crotch on a daily basis.

Within a day my universe shifted, and he became its center. He filled my waking fantasies and starred in my nightly dreams.

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I guess my capability for intense mental concentration and focus, coupled with the depth of my obsession helped trigger the beginning of it. Each night I would think of Cullen as I drifted off to sleep, going over in detail the fragments of him I had collected in my mind that day, cherishing the nape of his neck, the swell of his bicep, the revelation of his tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. I yearned for him and cast myself towards him with wild abandon in my head. And then one night a couple of weeks into the semester, I felt myself drift off to sleep as usual with thoughts of Cullen filling my head, like the proverbial visions of sugarplums, but instead of my consciousness slipping away until morning, it slipped sideways instead and I found myself hovering just off the floor next to Cullen's sleeping body. I looked across the room towards my bed, if what I did can be called looking, seeing as I was a bodiless consciousness, and I saw my own body just where I would have expected to see it, lying and breathing gently in slumber. I was surprisingly unconcerned with what was undoubtedly a highly unusual occurrence. Instead, I was fascinated by what was happening and started to examine my disembodied self. I seemed to perceive some sort of silvery cord leading back to my body, and a scrap of information surfaced from my endless eclectic reading over the years. Astral projection. This is what this was. I had written it off as new age crap, but here was proof to me that not only was it not crap, but I had somehow managed to achieve it. I turned back to look at Cullen and saw the same silvery cord stretching out of his body and out through the wall, anchoring his dream self to his physical self as he journeyed through the night. The instant I realized this, my thoughts became action, and I flew out of the room through the wall, following Cullen's silvery cord.

The world blurred by dissolving into formless colors, before brightening and resolving into a daytime city street. Cullen was there, arguing with a police officer, a clown, and a talking cartoon goldfish in a bowl hovering in mid-air. Cullen was dreaming, and I was in his dream. I sensed some sort of change in myself and looked down to see that I had a body again. I walked towards the arguing quartet, but as I did the police officer flew up into the air, the clown popped like a balloon, and the goldfish in the bowl turned into a demonic cheerleader who began to chase a suddenly terrified Cullen down the sidewalk towards me. I was enraged that anything would dare to try and hurt Cullen, so I grabbed a parking meter out of the sidewalk and stabbed the cheerleader through the chest with it. She dropped to the ground instantly and vanished. "Oh, man! I thought I was dead for sure! You saved my life! Thank you!" said Cullen and hugged me tight. I went rigid in shock. Cullen had spoken to me, and for the first time it had actually registered as words instead of meaningless gibberish. Cullen had touched me. Cullen had hugged me! For the briefest of moments Cullen's dream world had become real to me, and the combination of his speaking to me, touching me, and hugging me threw me into such turmoil that between one instant and the next I was suddenly waking up in my bed in my darkened dorm room, gasping for air and shaking in reaction. I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

To say that my obsession with Cullen deepened from that point on would be a gross understatement. Now that I knew I could spend all of my sleeping time with Cullen, I began to do so on a regular basis. He had starred in my dreams and now I began to star in his, sleep-stalking him every night. In his dreams, I found I could actually talk with him in a way that I was completely unable to in the waking world. Admittedly, most of the conversations were variations of his thanking me for one rescue or another since I became his dream protector and hero, saving him from countless monsters, demons, witches, aliens, and bad guys who were gunning for him because someone had framed him for a murder he didn't commit. After that first dream hug, I did everything I could to initiate physical contact between us during our nightly escapades, an arm casually draped over his shoulder, a hand gently tousling his hair, countless little touches, smiles, looks into his eyes. In the waking world, he grew more open and friendly towards me, looking at me more, smiling at me more, continuing to try and engage me in conversation despite the fact that I continued to blank it all out and watch our interactions as an observer, rather than as the active participant I was when we dreamed together.

It also dawned on me that there was a sexual tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was still jacking off to mental images of him every chance I got, but I realized he was spending more and more time wearing less and less when we were alone together in our room. He had never been shy about displaying his body, but as the days went by he went from t-shirts to muscle shirts to tank tops to bare torso, and from sweats to shorts to briefs to nothing at all. I exerted every ounce of my self control to not stare at the obvious things and be as casual and nonchalant about it as he seemed to be. The weeks passed, and the days grew shorter as fall progressed towards winter. I welcomed the turning of the seasons, because longer nights meant more time to sleep and dream with Cullen. Things might have continued on this way, but one evening in early November I went to sleep and slid sideways out of my body to find I wasn't alone in the room. There was another presence like myself, hovering just off the floor next to my bed as I was hovering next to Cullen's. It was another waking dreamer, I knew, and as I looked more closely I realized its silvery cord led straight to Cullen's sleeping body!

"Now it all makes sense," came Cullen's voice in my mind. "This is what you do. This is how you're always in my dreams." "Yes," I replied. "It happened first spontaneously, but it quickly became directed. I'm sorry. I can't seem to help myself where you're concerned." "You love me, don't you?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted sadly, thinking that this was probably going to be some sort of ending. "I've been obsessed with you from the first day. Love followed quickly once I started to get to know you through your dreams. I can't seem to talk to you when I'm awake. I think the reality of you is too much for me to take after a lifetime of isolation, but all I want is to be with you, in all ways, always and forever, to love and protect you, to be one with you. I'm sorry." "Why are you sorry? Can't you tell I feel the same way? Ever since you invaded my dreams and started saving me, I've become obsessed with you too. I go to sleep each night, knowing that you'll be there to keep me safe, even though you can't say so during the day. I could tell the feeling was there somehow, that we were connected on a deeper level. I've been longing to meet you on that deeper level, and now, suddenly, here we are." "You love me too?" I asked incredulously. "Yes," he said simply, and even though he had no body at the moment to express it, I felt the warmth of his smile on me anyway. I moved towards his warmth, and he moved towards me. We met in the center of our dorm room, still hovering just off the floor, and with no transition our bodiless bodies merged into a single being with two silvery tethers anchored at opposite sides of the room. There are no words to describe the unity we experienced in that moment. Pile every description imaginable of physical and emotional intimacy on top of each other, squeeze them all together, multiply all of that by any impossibly large number you can think of, then magnify it all again by an equally impossibly large number and you still won't approach it. Neither of us were prepared for it, and like the first time Cullen had hugged me, I found myself suddenly abruptly awake in my body in my bed. The only difference was that this time, Cullen was awake too. He launched himself, naked and erect, out of his bed and across the room to mine. I had thrown my blanket off, and his beautiful bare body landed on top of me, his mouth seeking mine to devour me. His gigantic cock leaked onto my stomach as he ground his crotch into mine, only my briefs separating us. He moaned his frustration into my mouth as we kissed, then he sat up and back, reached down, grabbed the opening in the front of my briefs, and with a grunt, ripped them open and yanked the remains out from under me, leaving me as naked as he was.

He laid himself fully down on top of me again and our legs intertwined. He kissed me again, and we were touching all along the length of our bodies, from feet to crotch to mouth. His cock ground down into me and my hips pushed myself in turn up into him, trying to somehow physically force our bodies to merge as our essences had in the moment before we awoke. Given our frenzy, we didn't last very long, and we shot together allowing at least part of our physical selves to merge into one as we mixed our cum together between our heaving bodies. As amazing as the orgasm had been, as amazing as it was that I now knew this beautiful body on top of me held a soul that loved me in a way that I had never felt before, my eyes started to fill and tears began to drip down my cheeks with sadness, because I knew that I would never be able to experience in the waking world the unity we had shared as we slept. I looked up at Cullen, and saw tears to mirror my own. I was with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I'm not entirely sure how we got through the next few weeks. We somehow got through classes and kept up some semblance of normalcy during the day, but it all seemed remote and unreal, because at night we left our bodies behind and merged together until dawn. After a while, it became harder to determine where I ended and he began. Our body language, speech patterns, and ways of thinking became similar to the point that at times it felt like we were one person living in two bodies. Thanksgiving approached, and with it the inevitable family obligations. We had become so detached from life outside school and each other that it was almost a surprise when it was time to part and we realized we should have made plans to avoid the separation. There was no help for it, though, so off we both dutifully went, to our individual destinations. Wednesday night was misery. I was back in the place I had grown up, that I hated and that hated me. I went to bed early, eager to experience the all-consuming love that I had discovered with Cullen, only to discover that I was unable to reach him fully. We had a vague sense of each other across the distance, but we couldn't seem to connect. I spent the night lonely and aching in my heart. Thursday was just as bad, spending Thanksgiving Day with my perpetually distant parents. It made no sense to me that they would want me here today after years of not really caring whether I was around or not. I had someone now who wanted me and I wasn't with him. The night was another one of yearning and a futile struggle to connect with Cullen in our dreams. Friday the separation became actual pain. My head hurt, my heart hurt, my body and soul ached to be with Cullen. I begged off the Black Friday shopping trip, knowing I would not be able to bear the long drive to the nearest town that was large enough to have decent places to pointlessly spend money on meaningless gifts. My parents drove off and I went back to my old room and flopped on the bed. After the last two frustrating nights I was feeling defeated and depressed, and I began to resign myself to not being with Cullen again until Sunday. I eventually felt myself drifting off to sleep, only this time, for the first time in months, I actually slept and dreamed. Except it wasn't a dream, it was a horrific nightmare, the details of which I didn't remember upon my panicked awakening except for the sensations of terror and profound loss. I curled up on my side, hugged my pillow, and sobbed uncontrollably at the feeling that if I didn't do something drastic, I would somehow lose the connection Cullen and I had found. I couldn't let it slip away, to become just me again instead of the unity of us. I had slept longer than I had expected to and it was already late afternoon. Knowing my mom, my parents wouldn't be back from the shopping frenzy until late so I had hours left to be undisturbed. Dropping off to sleep had almost become second nature to me, so it was easy for me to roll over and take back control of my unconsciousness. One thought was uppermost in my mind. I had to reach Cullen, no matter what. My eyes closed, my breathing deepened, and unlike earlier in the day, I slipped sideways out of my body as I fell asleep. This time I had a new determination and started to fly across the miles to my obvious starting point in my search for Cullen – the room that we shared. I felt pulled tight across the distance from my body, but I held on to where I was through the familiarity of the location. Uncertain what to do next, I hovered once again in the place that was ours, where I could feel him all around me even without his being there. I knew my sense of time was distorted when I noticed it was dark outside. I had been here simply contemplating Cullen, and hours had drifted by without my realizing. I began to notice, too, that my sense of him was growing stronger rapidly. My excitement and longing for him grew with each passing moment until the door opened, and there he was. I could tell he was as angry and frustrated as I had been. I moved to surround him and comfort him, but he couldn't feel me there. He sat on his bed for a little, but his tension didn't seem to be allowing him to relax. He turned to his travel bag and pulled out a bottle of wine, opened it, and drank some straight from the bottle, then went and sat on *my* bed and put his face into my pillow, breathing in deeply through his nose. He hugged the pillow to his chest and a tear dripped down his cheek. After a bit, he got up, tossed my pillow back on my bed, grabbed the bottle and headed out the door. I followed wondering where he was going. His goal turned out to be the top floor lounge at the back of the dorm, where very few people bothered to go. It was deserted, since it was the Friday evening after Thanksgiving. Cullen drank some more wine and gradually seemed to relax. By the time the bottle was empty, he had propped himself up across a couple of chairs and was staring blankly at the wall. Bit by bit his eyes closed, and then there he was, slipping sideways out of his body to join me. "You're here!" he said with surprise. "I've been waiting for you. I pushed and pushed to get here across the distance. I wasn't sure where I was going to go from here. The distance is difficult, but you came back, and you're here, and now we can be together again." And just like that we were. We were one again and our joy was endless. The unity of ourselves into a single being was a miracle, and all the sweeter for having been denied it the last two days. The only things that marred our joining were the silvery cords heading off to different places, Cullen's to his body in the chairs just next to us, and mine to my far away self. We were one. We needed to be one. All other parts of us were one. The cords needed to be one too. We were tugging on my silvery cord in an attempt to push it into his, when suddenly there was a sensation of severing, and an unattached tendril reeled in from a distance, flailed around as if seeking purchase, then laid itself down over Cullen's cord and into his body. ***********

We awoke with a start, disoriented from being in an unaccustomed place, uncomfortable from having fallen asleep on the chairs, and still drunk from the wine. We felt such an overwhelming feeling of happiness and well-being that we wished we could tell someone, but we knew no one would ever really understand. As I stumbled back to my room, I knew that the other bed would be remaining empty, but that was ok. I was with my love and I was within my love. We were one person forever. I was one person with no further need for two bodies. I undressed for bed and looked down at my body as usual and for the first time, happy with what I saw. I was masculine and strong in my body. I was loved and protected in my soul. I was Cullen McCathers.

Source: “Collan's Caption This Catch Up (10th May)”

[things2mustdo]

A while back, I came across a thought-provoking article about r/K selection theory. The basic idea is that r-selected species are adapted for environments with unlimited resources, while K-selected species are adapted for competition. The typical examples of these are rabbits and wolves. As the article explains:

Rabbits (r-Strategy)

They’re herbivores with near unlimited resources (never a shortage for grass).. The virtually unlimited resources are a primary reason why rabbits are not territorial. This is also part of the reason why they opt for breeding often; unlimited resources means they’re not going to starve.

They have no defense against predators other than running. They do not have any loyalty towards their group. It makes no sense for a rabbit to rush to the aid of another rabbit being attacked. Then you’d just have two dead rabbits.  Because they can be killed so easy, it makes sense to reach maturity as quickly as possible so they can begin birthing children.

Hierarchies are pointless in rabbit society. Rabbits lives are rather simple; eat grass and run away from danger. There’s no need to invest heavily in their offspring. As such, there’s no need to prove who’s the superior (alpha) and the best candidate for passing on their genes.

Wolves (K-Strategy)

They’re carnivores that must hunt to survive. Hunting requires more intelligence and training than grazing on grass. Due to the increased difficulty of hunting compared to grazing, more time is invested in training the offspring to survive.

Because prey is limited, wolves must viciously protect their territory from intruders. While it might seem heartless, if another pack is allowed into their territory the supply of prey will be exhausted and both packs will starve to death.

Wolves are monogamous/pair-bond. Because raising the offspring is so important for the continuation of the species, the wolves will pair for life in order to raise their young. As such, they will choose the best mate they can find to further improve their chances of birthing strong, healthy cubs. This process of choosing leads to hierarchies with an alpha male leading the pack. Wolves also wait longer before reproducing and generally have less offspring. If they reproduced early and often, there would be too many wolves for the ecosystem resulting in the consumption all the prey and starvation.

Wolves are more complex. This is true for carnivores in general. Because carnivores typically live in groups, they must have more sophisticated ways to communicate. The same is true for their domesticated brethren. Look at a dog and you can easily identify if he is scared, happy, angry, or bored by his body language and barks. Can you tell the same moods on a rabbit?

This isn’t a completely binary distinction. For example, some herbivores (such as bovines) will flock in packs and defend themselves. Lions are more K-selected than domestic cats.

The social angle

Humans are mainly K-selected; that’s what is natural for us. There are individual differences and statistical outliers, of course. As an extreme example, imagine two brothers; one picks up Atlas Shrugged and is inspired to become a successful businessman, and the other reads the Communist Manifesto and then continues to live in Mom’s basement where he smokes weed and posts social justice memes on 4chan all day. Compare also the factory worker who is a pillar of his community and is proud to bring home the bacon to his wife and kids, versus the starving artist who has yet to produce much of value.

Differing societies have their own average balance between r and K selection. Those mostly r-selected tend to be more collectivist; those more K-selected are generally individualist. In isolation, societies find their own level and work out what’s best for them according to their own unique cultures. When one group enters another group’s turf, problems can happen. I’ve already described how this was a factor in my witty take on the demise of the Neanderthals, who might have been too progressive to survive, rather than too backward as is often assumed.  That, of course, was an analogy for what’s going on in today’s society.

This even has implications for mating strategies. What we’d now sometimes derisively call “provider game” used to be the only game in town, and was natural for our society at the time, as it had been since antiquity. After the Sexual Revolution, all the rules changed seemingly overnight, and what used to work became ineffective. The flowers, gifts, and poetry stuff once showed you were dependable and good-natured, which (believe it or not) used to be desired qualities. That will get you Friend Zoned now.

The weird thing is that today’s game strategies are an adaptation in response to our society’s unnatural shift from K-selection (where being hard-working and stable is valued) to r-selection (where being “exciting” and flashy is valued). This is why in today’s dating arena, those continuing to use traditional courtship strategies are like fish out of water. These days, being at least somewhat game-aware is pretty necessary even to get a steady girlfriend. These differing strategies lead to much confusion about what best exemplifies an alpha—a socially savvy and successful man, or a meth head ex-convict with missing teeth and a high “notch count”?

The political angle

Ideologies tend to support either K-selection or r-selection as a model for society. Now consider the part quoted about rabbits given above. Which ideology favors handing out unlimited free goodies, is anti-military, puts down traditional morality, believes in gun control, despises their own society, will run from a fight, seeks to eliminate the consequences of promiscuity, considers any hierarchy to be “privilege” or “oppression“, and doesn’t believe in self-improvement?

That certainly hits the highlights of the culture war. This presents a new perspective on why Social Justice Warriors want to re-invent society their way. All along we thought it was only cultural Marxism, but maybe there’s something even deeper going on psychologically with the SJWs.

This is reflected in policy arguments too; compare Bush the Elder’s “family values” with Hillary’s “it takes a village to raise a child”. As we can see, quite a bit of leftist ideology is basically about turning human society from the K-selected model into one friendly to the r-selected model. Two competing ideologies (or two societies living in the same space) with differing ideas about these things will come into conflict. The more K-selected ones will get themselves dragged down by the others if they let it happen, or even destroyed. Also, take a look at any bad neighborhood; consider it a low-investment parenting theme park.

In the wilderness, these things wouldn’t happen. Apex predators don’t tolerate rivals coexisting in their own turf. The smart lion drives away a pack of hyenas, and the smart bear chases away the foxes. In human societies, this has worked out quite differently, especially when clever manipulators weaponize our own societal values of tolerance, fairness, and all the rest of it against us.

The greatest problem is that we don’t actually have unlimited resources available to meet our wants and needs, like rabbits in a grassy field. All the free goodies a government hands out must come from taxpayers, with bureaucrats getting their piece of the action. (So who are the predators in that situation?) As Margaret Thatcher put it:

I think [The Labour Party] made the biggest financial mess that any government’s ever made in this country for a very long time, and Socialist governments traditionally do make a financial mess. They always run out of other people’s money. It’s quite a characteristic of them. They then start to nationalise everything, and people just do not like more and more nationalisation, and they’re now trying to control everything by other means. They’re progressively reducing the choice available to ordinary people.

In the Communist world, those faced with the task of implementing the silly theories of Karl Marx had to ration resources, which resulted in inefficiency and corruption. Things didn’t go according to theory, obviously. Ideologies out of touch with reality become dysfunctional pretty quickly.

The endgame

Now here’s something even more disturbing. In advanced species, adulthood means being able to fend for oneself. In the beginning, people relied on families and tribes (extended families writ large) for resources, protection, and support. Some degree of interdependence in a community is natural to us, since organized hunting and agriculture increased the odds of survival, and thus we’re social creatures. The head of the household called the shots in the family, and the chief led the tribe.

At the dawning of civilization, related tribes bound together into nations. The model of families living under kings was the norm up until the Age of Enlightenment, with the main drawbacks that the nobility (and those close to them) got rich at the expense of others, lorded it over their subjects, and sometimes got into short-sighted wars. Afterwards, the transition into democracies moderated some of these problems, though graft and corruption and badly-conceived wars still happened.

Now we’re moving into the “New World Order” model, where a few thousand plutocratic elites around the world use their wealth and influence to implement managed democracy, get into spit-in-your-eye wars, and other forms of skullduggery to influence things their way. They’re pushing to open the borders, erase national sovereignty, turn the diverse peoples of the world into a mass monoculture, and they’ve conspired to make the public unaware and compliant.

Overall, the elites are causing increased dependency on the nanny-state governments, which meanwhile neglect the public’s safety and well-being. They’ve shown great hubris, trying to live as kings and make us their serfs. Meanwhile, young adulthood has become increasingly an extened adolescence, and these days many are seeming more childlike than ever. The more all this goes on, the less citizens resemble independent adults.

The extreme model of this in the animal kingdom is with some insect species, such as ants and bees. Joseph Sobran used The Hive as a metaphor, and so have I. If you don’t feel like being one of their worker bees, or a neutered drone, then it’s time we get the globalists off our backs.

Read More: Cultural Collapse Theory: The 7 Steps That Lead To A Complete Culture Decline

[jace-the-writer-guy]

A Very Important Discussion

Word Count: 2,115

To say the past few months in Aerial's life had been amazing would be a huge understatement. It was her first year of Atlas and she had met all the members of her new team when they were paired together on the first day after initiation. Snow was still coming around, and Aerial knew he needed more time and she absolutely understood that. Aliah was much more talkative and warm regarding her as a teammate, and a new friend and constantly, softly tries to get Snow to open up more with Aerial and Kuro. Kuro was absolutely fantastic, and already grew to being like a big brother to her and he had quickly grew to fry bacon in the mornings for the team if he could, but mostly for her after a discussion she had with them all a little while after being teamed up.

And then the tournament rolled around, and two certain teams arrived to Atlas from Beacon. Teams ASHE and KRSC. She had very quickly grown attached to them all from when she had met and helped Ebony get over her fear of crowds when they arrived if only for a little while that day. She was almost immediately smitten with the leader of Ebony's team, Wave Aideen. She had even asked him to the dance when he, Ebony, and Sakura had accompanied her to her team's own borrowed recording studio where they continued to bond over their shared love of music, each of them having their own instrument to jam out with. 

Then a dark, albeit short period of time passed with the missions app her newest friends had taken part in. Ebony was stabbed, and Carlisha was eaten by a Sand Leviathan and nearly every single muscle in her body was torn from the strain they were put through to save a man's life from the fate that almost fell on her. Before the missions, Aerial and Wave began to date, even though it would soon have to be long distance between them. And right after that, Carlisha had confessed her love that had grown for Wave, and left them to their relationship and began to continue with the medication for her heat.

But after those missions and after Carlisha had talked with Wave and Aerial, they agreed to a relationship where Wave would date both of them, but they would only date Wave. Or… so Aerial thought. Aerial and Carlisha had grown close and during the dance, Carlisha offered Aerial a dance to where the aspiring pilot had accepted, and Carlisha had relentlessly teased her but also helped her in a huge way. It made Aerial start to realize that she was bisexual, and dear lord Carlisha was making her fall in love with her as well.

And Kuro almost won the tournament that year! A team of freshmen students nearly won the tournament over the other teams! Perhaps if it wasn't for Ebony defeating Kuro in the final match, and if Ebony wasn't in the finals in the first place then he would have won, but still. He and Ebony had the final match. Aerial was just so happy that her team had made it so far, and she was happy that Kuro had ended up losing to one of their new friends and not someone they didn't know.

Then after the tournament, the relationship between her, Wave, and Carlisha had taken a turn and became another form of polyamorous, and everyone was dating everyone in that relationship. Carlisha had grown very fond of Aeriall due to how cute Aerial was with all the teasing, and no matter how flustered it made Aerial, she really liked it. Especially when they both teamed up on her to do the teasing. It never failed to make her smile, and blush of course. Aerial had definitely grown to love both Wave and Carlisha equally, and to know they both loved her was something that just always made her happy.

And now…

"What did you wanna talk with us about, Aerial?"

She had something she needed to tell them before they left for Beacon.

Aerial lightly smacked her cheeks with her palms to focus herself after thinking back to the past few months. "W-wellll… I kinda need to talk to you both about… me. Like everything about me."

Wave and Carlisha sat down and left a space for Aerial between them, and she sat down with them. "What is it?" Wave asked curiously.

"W-well the th-thing is…" Aerial gulped and took a deep breath, "I-I'm t-trans!"

Wave and Carlisha both looked at her in surprise. "You're… trans?" Carlisha asked in a soft voice.

Aerial nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. Male to female. S-still umm… t-taking some hormone medication f-for some stuff, but I have to keep taking that like… once a month f-for what I'm taking because yay A-Atlas medicine. I f-figured I sh-should tell you both before you went back to Beacon in a couple days, s-since I don't wanna hide it f-from you."

"And… does it make you comfortable?" Wave asked her, "Like… Are you comfortable, or getting there?"

Aerial nodded a few times. "O-oh, yeah I'm slowly g-getting there I think. I feel weird still, but… I think I always will no matter what. I'm not sure I'll ever really be fully comfortable in my body, but I'm h-happy to at least be getting closer to the body I've always felt like I should have. I think my boobs should grow more in time with the hormone medication, but… y-yeah."

"And… are your parents okay with it?" Carlisha asked this time in a much lighter tone.

"Oh, y-yeah!" Aerial answered immediately, and she smiled, "When I told them what I thought and knew about myself, they were really supportive of me. It… took them a while to get out of the habit of saying "son" and "boy"," She shook her head a bit, "but they did their best and now they say "daughter" and "girl". Thankfully mom's a pharmacist so she was able to get me the medications I needed and still need after we all did more and more research," Aerial began to grow nervous once more, "U-umm… is my v-voice okay?"

"It sounds very feminine, Aerial," Wave told her, and he gave her a smile, "I never would have guessed you were anything but a girl."

Carlisha nodded. "Right. You sound great."

Aerial breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank Light. That's always something that worries me is that I don't sound very womanly. I've always had kind of a feminine voice but I still had to train it to get it to where I think is alright. I'm really glad you both think it's good. Also, I guess you both saw me eating pickles a lot, right?"

Both of them nodded and Carlisha spoke up. "Right. I've hardly ever seen people eat pickles as much, just a couple girls back at Beacon."

"Well, th-that's because of medicine I take that lowers and suppresses testosterone, and that really messes with my sodium levels," Aerial explained, "I learned that pickles have a lot of that, so I started eating them and kinda learned to like them. If I don't keep my sodium up, I'd have to go pee a lot. And if I let it get any lower than that, well…"

"It's… not good is it?" Carlisha asked.

"Nnnope… If I let my sodium levels get too low, I can get headaches and nausea, and start throwing up. That stuff's the worst I've gotten but…" Aerial shuddered, "It could lead to seizures and… it could put me in coma."

"Oh… fuck," Wave said lowly, "You're keeping them up then, right?"

Aerial nodded quickly. "Y-yeah, I am. Haven't had any bad nausea or vomiting episodes since the months right after I started my transition. Since I told my team all of this, Kuro's really been cooking bacon every morning he can for me too so that doesn't happen again. Well, he cooks it for everyone but cooks me more, and bacon is great soooo yeah. Aaand there's a reason I'm the one that asks for jerky from April the most." She finished and laughed a bit, getting less and less nervous the more she talks.

"And you've been alright with your sodium levels lately?"

"Oh, yeah! Kuro has been making sure I keep them up since he's like the team dad and like a big brother to me now."

"That's really good to hear," Wave said and he began to hold her hand in hers, "Aerial, thank you for trusting us both with this."

Aerial gulped a bit, and her nervousness returned. "S-so… wh-what do you both think?"

"I think…" Carlisha grinned a bit and lightly took hold of her other hand, "you're still adorable. I see only the cutest, dorkiest girl here."

Wave grinned as well and kissed Aerial on the cheek. "I agree with Carli. I just see two girls sitting with me that I really grew to love. I'll do everything I can to help you feel as much of a girl as you know you are."

Carlisha nodded. "Right. Maybe I'll start pampering you a bit more…" She leaned in close to Aerial's face, "Hmmmm~?"

Aerial blushed at that. "Aaaah C-Carliii!"

Carlisha began to giggle and kissed her on the cheek. "See? Adorable~"

Aerial huffed a bit. "You're mean…"

"But you love it," Wave remarked, and he took his free hand and gave Aerial some headpats, "Is there anything else you want or need to let us know? Neither of us want to make you uncomfortable at all."

Aerial thought for a few moments before her eyes widened a bit. "O-oh, one more thing yeah. I… s-still have a b-boy's… y-y'know…"

Wave and Carlisha nodded in understanding of what she meant. "Are you gonna have them removed?" Carlisha asked.

Aerial shook her head. "N-no, I don't think so… Like I said, I think I'll always feel weird with my body no matter what, plus… I-I kinda l-like them? Does… th-that-"

"No, it doesn't sound weird." Carlisha assured her with a smile.

"And it doesn't change anything," Wave said afterward, "Penis or not, you're a girl and we both love you and accept you."

Aerial's face just lit up at hearing the acceptance from the two and she took her hands from theirs, and she pulled them both in to hug them. "Thank you both so much for listening to me and accepting me…"

Both of them easily returned her hug, both squeezing her comfortably in their arms. "I understand your worries. I mean, you've met Opal," Wave said and shuddered a bit, "I'm nothing like what she is. I don't care what she would ever think anymore. I love you, and I will do my absolute best to never make you feel bad or uncomfortable."

Carlisha nodded her head against the side of Aerial's inability agreement. "Exactly. If I ever tease you in any wrong ways, you tell me to stop and I'll immediately stop. Don't let either one of us slip up without telling us what we did wrong. I don't want to do that over and over and never know if it hurts you or makes you uncomfortable."

"I-I will... Thank you both. I love you."

"I love you too." Both Wave and Carlisha said to her at the same time, and they all sat in their embrace for several moments.

To say Aerial was happy was an immense understatement. The biggest smile grew on her face and tears or relief and happiness formed in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks soon after. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out as evenly as she could. She couldn't wait to tell her team, and she absolutely couldn't wait to tell her parents. She knew she still had to tell each of her new friends as well, and she would one day, but for now she was just so happy to have told her boyfriend and girlfriend and to hear their acceptance and love. It was exactly what she had hoped for. She knew Wave was nothing like the mother he had disowned and broke away from recently, and she knew he would do his best for her. And she knew that Carlisha would do the same.

The only thing that sucked about this was the fact that Wave and Carlisha would be returning to Beacon soon. But around a year later her team would be transferred to Beacon academy, not that she knew at the moment though. For now though, she was just happy to be with them.

[whoopsimwritingagain]

Back Home - Jacob Black

A/N: This is an A/U where there’s no mention of the vamps/ Bella, but I’m not outright denying their existence in this universe because this universe would collapse. The character is modeled after Bella in some ways and is original in others. Please send in requests, and commentary on my work,

DISCLAIMER: I am no longer accepting requests for any of the wolves! While I am glad to write any that have already come to my inbox I realized in writing that I simply do not know these characters well enough to feel good about my work or write complexities into the story. Sorry for any inconveniences!! Much love.

Word Count: 1978

Warnings: None

I rolled the last of my suitcases across the hardwood floor of my childhood bedroom into the closet where it would wait to be unpacked. “I think that’s the last of them,” my dad says. I have barely spoken since I arrived. I just can’t seem to find any words worth speaking. My dad knows why I’m here. At this point I feel like the whole town of Forks knows why I, a 22 year old former valedictorian, is moving back into her dad's house and working at the local diner. Everything seemed to be going fine. Better than fine actually, I had earned a coveted paid internship at the Boston Globe that I was set to start the month after my wedding to a promising young medical student. God, I should have known this was coming. That sentence sounds flat out ridiculous.

After graduation we entered the wedding prep whirlwind. Everything had been booked and ordered, but I had to deal with my soon-to-be mother-in-law. So I endured a month of her asking me if we wanted the bridesmaids hair to be curled or braided and teased, or if we should order last-minute gift bags. I endured a month of her silent judging, or not so silent when I wanted to have a glass of red wine after having my teeth whitened. All of that for him to leave me on our honeymoon. Ethan told me that I had changed while he was “too busy to notice,” and that I didn’t make him happy anymore. He said he wished he would have left me at the altar so we wouldn’t need to go through the headache of nullifying the marriage. A three year relationship thrown in the trash and a ring thrown in the ocean (that he billed me for.) So I got on the first flight to Boston from Athens and booked an Airbnb for the remaining weeks until I could move into the apartment I had planned to share with E. And then the unthinkable happened. My contracted position at the Globe was eliminated. I was offered a package, along with the dozens, maybe even hundreds, of employees that lost their jobs thanks to the digitization of journalism. I used most of the money from the package to do four things on the Thursday Evening I was “let go.” 1. I bought my plane ticket to Seattle, and booked a rental car I could take to forks 2. I backed out of my lease. 3. I wrote Ethan a check for the ring. 4. I sent the majority of our wedding presents back to the givers along with a note giving a blunt and apologetic explanation of how my life had fallen out of place.

Knowing all of this, my father gave me my space. He let me not talk the day I moved back in, he let me ignore my old friends, he let me leave my personal mail unopened on the kitchen counter - I didn’t want anyone’s condolences. After the fourth week of me interacting solely with him and my customers at the diner he slid a card for a therapist across the dinner table. Now, I recognize that therapy is very beneficial for a lot of people, and I couldn’t tell you why, but I absolutely did not want to go to therapy. So instead, we found a sort of compromise. I would start talking to people. I wouldn’t ignore the neighbors anymore when he goes over to chat with them, and I’d start going to church with him. But most importantly, I would start seeing one of my old friends - at least once a week. I protested and I tried to find loopholes, but each time he would remind me that I was living in his house rent-free while I worked to pay off my student loans, and I would have to shut up. So I finally started picking up the sympathy calls, or at least the calls, from one person in particular, Jacob Black. Jake, my high school boyfriend, the one that got away if you will. Or rather, the one who stayed behind. Jake and I have a long history. Our dads have been good friends for a long time. My father and I moved to Forks because my dad wanted to downsize our lives after my mother died. Billy and dad met in the very diner I work in now, and apparently Jake’s mom had died 2 years prior. Grief loves company or some shit like that. So we grew up making mud pies and stick forts on the beach. Around high school things got weird and by the end of the first semester of our freshman year we figured it would only hurt more to try and fight the feelings we had developed for each other. So there you have it. High school love.

Jake had been an absolutely perfect boyfriend. Sure, we fought, everyone fights, but we really had something special. Jake is just so light-hearted, and sincere, and physically… well, he’s pretty stunning. Getting through his transition was tough because he was so confused and angry. But we did! I thought if we could make it through that we could make it through anything. I was wrong. March of senior year I was accepted to the University of Washington’s journalism program, and Jake started talking to Billy about what taking a bigger role in the pack would look like. I didn’t want to stay in a small town, but Jake couldn’t leave, he had too deep of a connection. We talked about this after graduation. The decision wasn’t immediate. If anything, that week we made every effort to be closer to each other. Occasionally, after we had sex, or during whatever movie we were watching, one of us would catch the other staring off into space. No doubt contemplating the predicament at hand. It was a mutual ending, but it was still hard, it still hurt for a long time. I even saw a counselor at my college for a while just to try and figure out what I wanted. But we have remained good friends, he even stood at my wedding, so his calls have been the hardest to ignore. The next time he calls me, I answer, and it’s the most relief I’ve felt since I threw my ring into the sea.

We meet the next day at a little cafe. He looks happier than I remember. Jake greets me five minutes early and his beaming smile makes me feel secure. I wave at him right before being engulfed in one of his warm and comfy hugs. For those five seconds it’s like I’m back in high school. This is the least worried I’ve felt since those simpler days. No deadlines, or internship applications, no boyfriend to make me feel like I need to “be better” all the time. Just Jake and cold brew. He starts with small talk, knowingly avoiding the dreaded “how are you” and navigating more comfortable topics like the pleasantly sunny day we were enjoying in the rainy peninsula. He fills me in on the latest pack drama and I regurgitate the bits and pieces of local news I pick up at the diner. He’s making some joke about the Forks kids who have been sneaking onto the beach at the res and as I laugh I instinctively put my hand on his arm. It would be cheesy to call what he makes me feel “electricity”, but that small action definitely made my hair stand on end. Jake must feel the same way because we both blink at the point of contact for a moment before pretending to study the wall. The conversation lulls for a minute. When he starts to talk about the res again he moves his arm, but he doesn’t pull it away, instead he holds my hand.

The cafe closes three hours after we get there, so we grab drink refills and head to our favorite trail. Perfectly stationed between my house and the res. I sit down on a rock near the cliff and Jake comes to sit down by me. We sit there in silence for a while, enjoying the waves. Jake looks over at me now and I can already tell what he’s about to say. He opens his mouth and then thinks better of it. Instead he says “Is it… okay?” “Actually,” I reply, “I think you’re the only person who’s allowed to talk to me about it right now.” “Oh, okay” he gulps and lets it sit for a second. “Y/N I can honestly tell you that I didn’t see it coming. If I did I would have told you I wouldn’t have let you… I wouldn’t have let him!...” Jake is clearly flustered at this point. “I wouldn’t have let it get that far if I thought it would hurt you.” It’s hard to know how to respond to him when he gets like this, equally caring and alpha male, so I think carefully before speaking. “Jake you won’t always be able to tell what’s going to hurt me… no one can. People get hurt in life sometimes there’s nothing you can do about that.” Wrong answer. Jake’s brow furrows. “But I should have been able to protect you! It’s different.” I shake my head. “Jake you can’t be perfect all the time… I know you’re different, and that's special! But… that doesn’t mean that bad things will never happen. A bad thing happened to me, Jake. A lot of them actually. But… now I’m back home. I might not have my job but I have my degree, I’ve got no apartment but I’m not paying rent, and I don’t have a lying husband… but I have a true friend.” There’s a good half-minute of breathy silence “Wow,” Jake finally breaks it, “not a dry eye on the rock.” I smile “Haha Jake.” He turns my chin towards him so we’re making eye contact again “I know you missed my dry humor.” he says with a grin. And then we’re kissing. I don’t know who kissed who or how this started. But he’s kissing me and I’m kissing him. I don’t know how much time passes with my arms around his neck and for the first time since I left Forks, I don’t care that I don’t have the answers to everything anymore. Eventually, he draws away, but not too far away, and asks “friend?” I grin at him and answer “maybe not”

We spend the night talking and curled up in his bed, the same big wooly comforter as when I left. We talk and we talk and we kiss again and eventually, we do more than kiss. If I was talking to one of my friends I would seriously chastise her for sleeping with her high school ex-boyfriend the first night she sees him again  but with Jake, it’s just so different. He isn’t my high school it’s just him and me and everything is exactly like it’s supposed to be. It’s almost six in the morning. His face is lit by the rising sun and I’m laying on his chest. “Jacob” I state. “What” he cocks his eyebrow and wraps his arms tighter around me. “I think I’ve fallen back in love with you.”

Ahh!

So I started writing this in August and obviously college and life hit and I didn’t really forget about it but I just never felt like I had time or motivation to finish it. Then Rona. I hope you all are safe and able to take care of yourself. I’ll fix grammatical stuff as I catch it but please continue to requests and double requests because I will get them done eventually even if I disappear.

[phoenix]

So I’ve been trying to write this for awhile now.  Somewhere between years in general, and the last few months specifically.  I’ve hinted at this, joked about this, for almost my entire life online.  But over the years, I’ve come closer and closer to finally admitting it out loud.  I dropped a pretty obvious clue a few months ago.  And just to spare everyone a lengthy post, I’m gonna get to the TLDR right here, and then ramble for a bit more behind a cut.  So y’all can skip out whenever.

I am transgender.

...And I feel like such a fraud every time I say it.  But I’ll get around to that.

For people who have known me since before Tumblr, I figure there are a range of three reactions to this statement;

Uh, yeah dude, we figured that out ages ago.  Worst kept secret ever.

Oh...oh!  OH!  That explains a LOT.  Like, everything.

And at least one person is out there going “I KNEW IT!”

First off, as I ramble, I am probably gonna phrase something poorly, since a lot of my thoughts on this, terminology for it, come from decades ago, and are still ingrained in my head.  I do my best to not use outdated terms, but I am imperfect, so please do not take offense if I stumble.

So, why do I feel like a fraud when I say I’m transgender?  I was assigned the gender of male at birth, but I’ve always felt like there was something wrong with me, and at a very early age, I identified more with feminine things.  I’ve always thought “I should have been born a woman” but for the longest time, I never thought there was anything I could do about it.  And to do anything about it was wrong, in some way.  Just accept things the way they are.  I thought that even if I did do what was available at the time, the results would not satisfy me.  And I acknowledge even that is a minefield to get through.  And I have come to realise that it’s not so much about the results, but getting to be yourself.

It felt like something out of my control, so I resigned myself to the gender I was assigned, to the face I saw in the mirror, and over time, I did actually come to accept it.  I have never had major feelings of dysphoria.  Over time, I came to accept I was Jason, and that’s who I’m gonna be.  I even at this point in life, largely LIKE myself.  Oh sweet twist of irony.

This was helped very much by the internet, where I could be me a bit more and compartmentalise things.  And even though my gender identity became a bit of a running gag, and even though many folks eventually figured out or was told I was Jason/a man - I never made it a secret or intentionally lead anyone on, the internet still gave me an outlet to explore fiction, find a few like minded people, and have an outlet to be a bit more myself, because my face and gender didn’t matter.  It was about my words and the personality that people online cared about.

So I say I’m transgender, I identify in many ways with being a woman, and yet at the same time, I’ve accepted myself?  And really, that is out of a lot of inertia and comfortablity than anything else.  Still, I feel like there are people ‘more’ trans than me, and I should step back and keep my mouth shut, but at the same time, that’s not living my truth.  A truth I am still trying to figure out.  Hi, I am confused and trying to figure shit out I thought I had sorted. ;)

Recently though, in spite of how comfortable I may have become, and how much I had let go of things I thought I had no control over, I have been revisiting these feelings that always remained present in the back of my mind.  More and more prominent transgender people have been getting the spotlight, and making me revisit these things, and think well, maybe, it’s not as cut and dried and as much of a closed issue as I made it become in my early teens.  I have felt more seen, identified more with characters more, than I ever ever have.  Representation actually matters.  Who knew?

So...what now?  I’ve been using male pronouns for DECADES and typing ‘she’ feels *weird* more than it feels natural.  I don’t know if that will ever change.  Same with my name.  I hated my name as a kid, for a number of reasons.  Only some of which were because it’s a boys name.  But over time, it became MINE.  I have thought a LOT about what I would want my name to be, and I have never come up with any name that sounds right.  That might be a discussion for another day.  And the few names that have caught my attention, always felt like “Oh, it’s just me being obsessed with whatever has caught my eye lately” and again, feels false.  But I know that’s just me overthinking things and being confused about who I am.  Also, I’ve been just as comfortable being known as “Foe”.

Feel free to call me whatever, be it Jason or Foe or he or she.  I know what my preferred pronouns are, but as they still sound so strange to me, I’m not gonna harp on anyone that deadnames me, or misgenders me.  I’mma be doing it plenty, especially since I’m still going to be Jason out of virtual space.

I also have so much masculine bullshit crammed in my head, I don’t know how to even begin clearing that out.  Or if I have to (I know I don’t, but at the same time, I feel like I’d be a TERRIBLE woman and should just stick with what I know.)

Will I ever transition?  I don’t know.  I don’t even know if I want to.  Part of me does.  Very very much so.  And something I thought I would never do has become something I have at least begun considering.  But there’s something to be said for keeping things the way they are, where things are comfortable.  But it’s also not me and...

Aaargh.  I feel so good getting this out there, but at the same time, this entire post is a disaster of flailing and rambling.  I’ve said a lot, and it’s bounced all over the place, and I still have so much more I want to say.  But yeah, there you go you get the idea..  I’m a transgender woman.  Where do I go from here?  *shrug emoji!*

[green-blooded]

So I watched Into Darkness and wrote out my reactions to it... Again, it's going to be negative, so if that'd bother you, please don't read! All Star Trek fans are legit, even if this is a portion of the canon I don't like.

A brief summary of my reaction:

And it's a Star Wars opening. This is a scene from a Star Wars film. The sound effects even sound like Star Wars. LIKE. I love Star Wars, but this isn't supposed to be Star Wars please stop.

I mean why should we give Uhura any characterization other than liking Spock. That would take effort or something.

I'll admit that I like Spock hanging out in a volcano wearing a disco suit. It's where he belongs. It is his home now that they blew up Vulcan. ('Cause it's a volcano, get it.)

Hey, hey omg they are almost doing a philosophical thing with Spock being willing to die for the needs of the many and McCoy yelling at him, then telling Kirk that if the situation were reversed, Spock would let him die. It's almost a Star Trek!

They're letting McCoy have lines. Wooow. I don't expect it to last.

Um... suddenly I'm in an episode of Black Mirror or something? I don't... wait holy shit that's Mickey? Who gives a shit about Sherlock, that's MICKEY. I didn't know he was in this!

Oh good, Kirk is having a threesome with alien twins. Cool. Love this. Love it. Great characterization.

OH GOOD more bickering between Spock and Kirk that is absolutely the worst and I hate it. :)

I just want McCoy in scenes. :( I just want Uhura with her own story. :( I just want to not look at Sherlock's face. :( Oh look, Mickey's already dead. :(

I don't... get Spock's characterization in these movies. I don't get what Kirk and Spock's friendship is. I don't... feel anything about it. I actually really love Kirk and Spock's friendship, and not having it work for me is a huge void, right up there with McCoy having lost his role in the trio.

So much of the sound design is Star Wars-y. It's really, really bugging me.

Chris Pine is such a likable guy. I really do enjoy when he's on screen. I don't like some of the characterization that he's been saddled with, but I like the character just fine outside of him being called Kirk.

... The conflict that made Kirk not the captain of the Enterprise and Spock not the first officer lasted for like five minutes and had no consequences wow.

OH MCCOY IS GRACING MY SCENE AND HAVING MORE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS THAN ANYONE ELSE AGAIN WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EXISTING. I really do enjoy him fretting over Kirk. It is really cute.

Ugh, please stop having Kirk take the place of McCoy in the arguments with Spock. I hate it. It does not work, especially with McCoy not taking Kirk's role of being mediator. It's just bicker bicker bicker but without actual ethics really being brought in because?????? WHO KNOWS. Why'd they have to mess up the trio? That was the easiest thing not to mess up.

Here's what it is. The conflict between Kirk and Spock in AOS is a pissing contest with the standard TWO MEN CAN'T JUST BE FRIENDS THEY HAVE TO BE COMPETITIVE. While the conflict between Spock and McCoy in TOS is ethical and moral differences with a core of (admittedly complex) friendship. Just. Let men be friends and have real disagreements instead of just trying to play Alpha Male.

As I'm typing this, they're doing the same with Kirk and SCOTT of all people????????????? This is so not Star Trek ugh. Let people be nice to each other what the hell. Kirk is such a nice person. Let him be NICE. Let Spock be NICE. They only one they made nice is McCoy, and they only managed it giving him 0% of his edge. He's just cranky instead of a super intelligent and philosophical guy who is also Real Southern and ready to argue.

... He just made Chekov his chief of engineering? What... are... who... why is everyone on this ship twelve.

Is it just me or do they write Spock as an android instead of a Vulcan? Like... he knows how Humans work. And yeah, he sometimes plays up being non-Human on TOS, but... it just seems so overdone. Maybe I'm being too picky idk.

I continue to hate the Spock/Uhura stuff wow.

Take McCoy On Away Missions He Has No Business Going On Like Real Star Trek!!!

Oh my god even the shuttles are fucking huge. Why are all these ships so big inside? It makes everything feel much more sterile and difficult to believe.

The McCoy and Sulu interactions are A+.

Oh good, now Uhura is having a McCoy argument with Spock. Don't let McCoy have any role in this whole movie, that's fine. I mean the Bread and Circuses talk about Spock wanting to die was way better and took less screentime, but that's fine. That's fine. Let's just bluntly talk directly about Spock's Feelings instead of any kind of subtlety. God I really hate the writing.

Wow, we almost had one (badly written) conversation without an action scene. Phew, they fixed that.

Why does every iteration of Star Trek feel the need to completely redo Klingons from scratch?

Oh no, they almost have diplomacy where Uhura got to show off her skills, couldn't have that. Time for an action scene!

Every interaction Kirk or Spock has with another man in this whole fucking movie is aggressive for no reason. And even in this alternate universe, McCoy refuses the toxic masculinity. This is why I love him. He just wants to be everyone's mom friend.

DID THIS MOVIE JUST IMPLY THAT KIRK FUCKED CHRISTINE CHAPEL I FUCKING WHAT THE FUCKING WHAT WHAT WHAT NO STOP SHE IS NOT A NAME DROP FOR YOU TO MAKE THE FANS HAPPY SHE IS A CHARACTER THAT I LOVE AND I DEMAND RESPECT BE PUT ON HER NAME AND SHE AND KIRK DID NOT FUCK AND IF THEY DID HE WOULD REMEMBER IT

Oh hey they did send McCoy on an away-- what? Did he just... flippantly refer to a Gorn? That's... they didn't... whatever. McCoy demanding to be left behind to die for the good of someone else just flies by unnoticed but it was a big deal for Spock. Okay.

Ok, the reveal that this is about Khan is more than an hour into the movie. Which is a reveal everyone knew before the movie came out and also a character that we're all familiar with. So I just kinda feel like every minute of the movie so far was just wasted on backstory. Again!

(McCoy should be in this scene where they confront Khan but whatever.)

Hey, AOS? We already know that Khan is a fucking monster, so trying to get us to feel sorry for him as if we don't know this is weird as hell. Like, these ethical quandaries it's trying to bring up are not working for me at all, because... if you're going to base this on TOS, you can't just pretend nothing in TOS happened!

Also love these reveals where I'm supposed to care what ship just showed up, but they're shining lights in my eyes so I can't even see what it is!

Nimoy was on my screen time to start paying attention again. I definitely kind of zoned out for a while there. I think I missed like five consecutive action scenes.

Again, why are we getting a reveal about Khan being evil? We... we know this. Even people who don't watch Star Trek know he's a bad guy. Why do we need Nimoy to tell us this? We're an hour and a half into the movie and still getting reveals that we should have known before the movie started!

~ This Is Dumb ~

Oh my gosh Khan betrayed them wow i didn't see that coming

Wow look at this disaster that shows why a huge fucking ship with endlessly huge corridors is maybe a bad idea because we're in space and gravity failures means everyone would fucking die. I hate this pointlessly large interior oh man.

How long do I have to watch the Enterprise fall apart before something new happens? This movie could be like half an hour long if we just cut the pointless action scenes.

Okay, time for the only actual reveal in the whole film; Kirk "dies" instead of Spock. It might be good if it didn't go on too long and make the Sad Music swell. They did hire good actors, so you'd think they'd let them use their Acting Skills instead of making it sappy and dumb with bad cinematography and overwhelming music.

So, for one thing, McCoy should be getting to Engineering to see to Kirk when he gets out, not Spock. For another thing, there is no history between this Kirk and Spock that makes this moment meaningful. Maybe it would be kinda, if you don't have Wrath of Khan (which I don't even like!) to compare it to where we have three seasons and two movies of history between two people who are actually friends! Kirk's actual friend in these movies is McCoy, WHO SHOULD BE THE ONE CALLED DOWN HERE THIS IS A MEDICAL SITUATION.

Like, it's great that you're feeling, Spock, but I'm sure not. This is so dumb.

NOW UHURA'S HERE. WHERE IS MCCOY? THE MEDICAL OFFICER AND FUCKING FRIEND OF KIRK?

Oh god did he just yell khan no this is so dumb this is so dumb now i AM crying this is so dumb

Love that they took the Khan storyline and drained it of any relevance by not really getting into the whole eugenics aspect.

Oh now I get to see someone who actually was Kirk's friend reacting to hsi death. Thanks for finally getting to something meaningful, movie. Oh man, I almost felt something, because Urban is a pretty good actor and McCoy's friendship with Kirk is the only relationship I care about in the AOS, but then there was a tribble and ruined it, so.

This fight between Khan and Spock is dumb, just. Dumb. It's dumb. This is dumb. Why does every action sequence go on SO LONG.

Spock's rage toward Khan makes no sense. He and Kirk barely tolerate each other in these movies, I don't get it.

McCoy and Kirk are really cute in these movies. That's all I have. Of course, we can't let McCoy talk too much, because this is the Kirk and Spock show.

OH GOD THE TRANSITION TO THE OPENING SPEECH WAS SO BAD I'M LAUGHING SO HARD.

Oh thank goodness, this movie is over. I am hoping I'll like Beyond, because people have said this one might not be awful. Probably going to wait until tomorrow because it's nearly midnight and I want to be in a better mood when I watch it.

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

A Note on the ‘F’ Word - Freedom is Shooting Hoops up John Pears Playing Fields..

Good morning dear readers....well it’s a drizzly Wednesday morning here in deepest green Sussex. The birds are chirping; the lawn is drinking in all the rain from last night. There’s the very occasional mild whoosh of a car driving down the lane our cottage sits on. You’d never know the world had been frozen for four months and was just starting to spin again....that freedom was in the air... 

I don’t know about you, but this bit feels really hard. It’s like, for so long I’ve been yearning for pubs and cafes to thrust their doors open...and now it’s allowed; but not really. Going to a pub sounds about as much fun as visiting a friend in the slammer - 

It was kind of easier in the good old days; those early insane lockdown weeks when we all knew that we were completely trapped, incarcerated within our ow homes with one stroll allowed; there was a certain liberation in knowing that we had to stay in and make the best of it - when the best we could hope for was a wave with a truck-driver or road-worker from afar, or that smile from a complete stranger walking their dog down the lane that I sometimes got....the smile that said ‘this is crazy, right - but it’s ok. I can still walk my dog. We can still smile at each other.’ (I did that a lot...its gets lonely out here in the sticks...!). 

There was a certain Halcyon bliss to those April days with Boo spent watching Fawlty Towers and howling in laughter all morning; and then doing real weird stuff like acting out a play together with costume changes and everything...I mean, it was nuts, and it was scary, but boy we were imaginative. Boo had me drinking Brandy as a stressed out Queen, then quick costume change to become a humble male servant... She had me acting out that frickin’ play four times some days...but somehow by having to dive inside coz there was no-where else to go it felt like the sky was the limit. There was a certain liberation to seeing my neighbour Pete across the fence and knowing deep down in the kernel of my heart that I wanted to hug him, because I wasn’t allowed to; a certain glowing awakening in feeling my love for Pete - all the hotter for the restriction 

Didn’t we dream of the world opening up again, of noisy pub gardens; festivals; reclining with large groups of homo sapiens on picnic rugs. Didn’t we dream hugging our friends...Didn’t we dream of the end of fear?

 And now the borders are opening again...so why do I feel like a toddler who’s been told she can run like the wind only to feel the reigns tugging and pulling me down.. 

It really is a W.O.P.E. (whole other post entirely) as to why the Powers have given the go ahead to pubs, cinemas and churches but not to theatres and other arts spaces. It’s too depressing and hypocritical to write about right now and it’s raining besides.. Maybe the rain will just keep on coming and England will sink; just have a nice long bath, a good long think, drown all the Parliamentary dandruff and come again with a beating heart in Westminster. But in the meantime...

I’m gonna tell you the story of my Sunday afternoon in the local park and why, perhaps, Freedom Is Shooting Hoops up John Pears Playing Fields with a Kick-Ass  Extended Indonesian Family Basketball Team.

So I meet David and Boo up John Pears - its basically a large field, a kids play ground and a small basketball court with two hoops just up the road. I’ve been shooting hoops lately; a re-call to my sporty youth when, as a skinny twelve year old, just budding breasts and entirely un-cool, I tried to rectify the situation by  playing for my local basketball team back in the Bedfordshire suburbs. Apparently I wasn’t too bad; I could be quite aggressive, charging down the court and leaping the lay-ups. 

So anyway, I’ve been hooking up with David and Boo with my basketball. And what do you know, I’ve still got it. I can still get it in the net BAM! I’m twelve again, and it feels good. 

However, this Sunday, we have competition. The court is FULL; and these cats look serious. By some strange and wonderful miracle, this particular basketball court in a rural playing field in southern England, has been filled with between 10 and 15 very accomplished Indonesian basket-ball players. This is a thing of wonder; from whence did these visitors come, with their urgent tongue, joyful laughter, luminescent orange trainers and, frankly, some seriously good hoop skills? They range in ages - young men to an elder  ‘grandfather’ figure - and three boy kids runn with no tops on and lopping the ball to the puffy white clouds above. They’d set up camp next the court - women sit on camping chairs tapping their phones; there are babies; music; at some point pizza arrives.. 

Boo sulked that the court had been taken over, but we were all transfixed by this wonderful happening before us; this serious playfulness. How a large extended Indonesian group of family and friends - over 20 in total - came to this white out-post of England on a sunny Sunday afternoon for basket-ball battle, is a glorious mystery. 

But it signalled a wonderful freedom to us...this beautiful over-riding of the ‘State rules’; of taking a Sunday afternoon for one’s own, to be spent with loved ones in play and rambunctious competition; melting away any rigid boundaries of age or court lines or government stipulation with dizzying speed. Its ironic and comical and also vastly insane that the children’s playground right next to the court has a huge padlock on its gate. 

At one point a distinguished looking white-haired lady approached with her dog; ball catcher in hand. My cynical head predicted war: she was gonna call the cops; or at least have a word with these imposters... But standing near the court, instead a steady smile spread across her face, and she stood awhile, taking in all the joy and laughing along with the players when the ball fell short of the hoop...sharing their happy disappointment. This was a blessing; a lesson that we all needed and she soaked it up in abundance. Perhaps her younger self would have jumped on the court and taught the guys a thing or too. 

In the end Boo plucked up courage to ask if we could share the court - and so we did. Two nations; two tongues; two races; two families - our small, trembling triangle of three, alongside a much larger model, but nonetheless just shooting hoops on a Sunday in full respect of each other. Though with our considerably deficient hoop skills their respect was all the more generous.  No-one was being hurt; no-one endangered; no-one threatened with slow death; we gave each other appropriate space without any need for rude-ness or stand-off. We clapped at each other’s successes and commiserated the failures. 

This, surely, could be the Summer ahead of us. 

It struck me that maybe this is a bit was this weird post Lock-down transition wobbly faze has to look like. We need to take things outdoors; taking full possession of our freedoms; safely; kindly, in our own way, playing and hooping.... We need to set up our own games; our own pleasures; under blue skies; sharing these paces with loved ones and setting an example of...well, how to have a good time.. Coz it sure beats going to the pub right now. 

Have a wonderful Wednesday - love from Christine x      

[yurionice-secretsanta]

Bring Him Home

To  @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin From @kaleidodreams

Summary: During a snowstorm, Yuri worries when Otabek is late coming home from practice.

Rating: T/Teen and Up Audiences (Just for language, though, because Yurio.)

Message: I hope you enjoy gift, Rodinia! Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

         "Where the hell is he?“

         Yuri pulls his coat tight around his torso as he looks over the fire escape railing, down at the parking lot three stories below. The space where Otabek usually parks his bike is still empty, covered with a light dusting of snow. Snowflakes continue to fall from the sky, clinging to Yuri’s hair and shoulders. The weather can’t seem to make up its mind what it wants to do. One minute it’ll be snowing, only for the snow to turn into sleet, then right back into snow again in seemingly the blink of an eye.

         Yuri hates Otabek driving his bike in this kind of weather. He’s a great driver, but the roads are icy, and it won’t be long until the sun sets, the sky already turning various shades of yellows, oranges, and blues behind the clouds. He should had waited around at the rink until Otabek finished his session with Viktor – the two of them were polishing up the choreography of Otabek’s free skate before Four Continents next week – instead of rushing back to the apartment to start on a dinner that was fast going cold. If he had, he would have convinced Otabek to leave the bike behind and take the subway back home with him instead.

         Home.

         Yeah, six months later, and that’s still a little weird.

         Yuri fiddles with the simple black band adorning his right hand, the ring twisting easily due to the cold shrinking his already-slender fingers. Otabek had given it to him the night they moved into the apartment together, shortly before the current skating season started. A sappy gift, one that made Yuri cry ugly embarrassing tears when Otabek slipped it on his middle finger, but it means so much to him that Otabek accepts who he is, that he still loves him despite the fact that Yuri doesn’t have the same desires as him. Their relationship is unconventional, occupying some nebulous area between best friends and lovers, yet it works for them.

         Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checks the clock for the third time since he came out on the fire escape. Shit, Otabek really is late; even with the bad weather, Yuri expected him to be home by now. He sighs, his breath visible in the freezing air. Should he call? He doesn’t want to distract Otabek from paying attention to the road if he’s driving, though.

         He settles for texting Viktor. It isn’t helpful, but at least he feels a little better after chewing Viktor out for allowing Otabek to leave on his own – never mind the fact that the snow didn’t start falling in earnest until after Otabek already texted Yuri to tell him he was about to leave the rink.

         If only he had been able to reply to the text faster…

         Yuri runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

         He’s half-tempted to start looking for Otabek on his own, but he doesn’t own a car. Doesn’t even have a license yet. He keeps meaning to sign up for lessons; it’s just difficult to find the time between training, competitions, tours, and sponsorship obligations. Besides, he usually gets around the city well enough without one.

         Maybe I should try calling the local hospitals?

If something bad has happened… With shaking fingers, Yuri finds the number of the nearest hospital online. The phone starts to ring in his ear just as he hears the familiar sound of Otabek’s bike pulling into the parking lot.

         “Fuckin’ finally,” he says, exhaling in relief. After ending the call and sliding his phone back in the back pocket of his jeans, he leans over the railing and yells down at Otabek. “You’re late. Get your ass up here!”

         He isn’t sure if Otabek can understand what he’s saying from so far away, but he looks up at Yuri after he takes off his helmet, holding his hand up in a “thumbs up” signal.

         A grin tugs at Yuri’s lips despite himself. “Idiot.”

         He brushes off the snow as best he can, then climbs through the window to go back inside.

         Their apartment is in the loft of an old abandoned canning factory. Other than the bathroom, it’s completely open concept, with cement floors, exposed brick walls, and large floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the street view, letting in a ton of natural light when it isn’t so cloudy. It’s more Otabek’s style than Yuri’s, to be honest – Yuri likes silly things like drywall and ceilings that actually hide all the pipes and ductwork from sight – but his influence shines through in the pops of leopard print scattered around the room, from the throw pillows on the leather couch to the rug underneath their dining table to the duvet covering their king-sized bed.

         After shrugging off his coat, Yuri starts to sling it over the back of the couch when he thinks better of it, hanging it back on the coat rack where it belongs.

         Learning to live together has been a relatively smooth transition for the most part. He and Otabek enjoy a lot of the same things – the same foods, the same music, the same TV shows – and whatever differences between them tend to be complementary in nature. Yuri loves to cook; Otabek is a weirdo who actually likes doing dishes. Otabek’s better at keeping organized, so he makes sure the bills get paid on time and schedules most of their appointments. Yuri is an expert when it comes to bargain shopping thanks to his grandpa’s teachings, so he’s in charge of buying the groceries and other household necessities. They don’t argue about much, but Otabek’s annoyance with Yuri’s slovenly tendencies is their one red-button issue, a bad habit Yuri is trying his best to break.

         A couple of minutes later, Otabek walks through the front door. Yuri prepares to yell at him some more for worrying him so much, but the words die on his lips when he sees the long scratch along the side of Otabek’s cheek. It runs from just a little below his left eye to almost down to his jawline.

         “Oh my god, what the hell happened to your face?”

         Otabek flinches when Yuri gently presses a finger against the cut. “Oh, the cat got me,” he says. “It’s no big deal.”

         “What cat?” He couldn’t be talking about Potya. Yuri would have noticed the scratch earlier if that was the case. Besides, Potya isn’t much of a scratcher; he’s more likely to ignore someone altogether if he’s angry, swishing his tail as if he’s a king dismissing one of his lowly subjects.

         Meow.

         Yuri arches an eyebrow. “Did your jacket just ‘meow’?”

         Otabek unzips his leather jacket half-way, an orange tabby hesitantly poking its head out. The poor thing is wet and shivering, large green eyes taking in its new surroundings, and Yuri’s heart immediately fills with pity. Despite his tough reputation, he’s always had a soft spot for animals – particularly cats of all persuasions.

         “Stay here. I’ll get a towel,” he says, heading to the bathroom.

         When he returns, Otabek has taken the cat fully out of his jacket, its increasingly loud meows as it squirms in Otabek’s arms catching Potya’s attention. Potya claws at Otabek’s legs, letting out a few meows of his own as he tries to see what is going on.

         “Potya, down.” Yuri unhooks Potya’s claws from Otabek’s jeans, then gathers the skittish cat in the leopard-print towel he had brought with him, carrying it over to the couch.

         Yuri frowns as he looks the cat over. It appears severely underfed; he can feel its bones with only the slightest touch. He judges it to be around three to four months old, bigger than a kitten, but not quite full-grown. No collar to be found. It’s most likely a stray, but they would need to take it to the vet to check if it had a microchip to be certain.

         “Hey, where did you come from, little one?” he coos, rubbing the towel over the cat’s wet fur. The meows begin to quiet down, the tabby no longer trying to break free as it allows Yuri to dry it off.

         “You know that old maple tree where I usually park my bike?” Otabek sits down beside Yuri, slinging an arm over the back of the couch. “I was just about to leave the rink when I heard it meowing from up in the branches. It was too scared to climb down on its own, so I rescued him.”

         Glancing up, Yuri’s eyes widen. “You mean to tell me you climbed up a tree, rescued a stray cat, then drove all the way here from the rink in the sleet and snow with it stuffed in your fucking jacket?” He doesn’t know whether he wants to hug Otabek or smack him upside the head. Maybe a little of both. “Do you realize how dangerous that could have been?”

         Between the two of them, Otabek is supposed to be the responsible one. A stunt like that is more Yuri’s style.

         “What other choice did I have?” Otabek asks, scratching behind the tabby’s left ear. “I couldn’t leave it there, not when it was so cold and wet.”

         “Yeah, but –” Yuri sighs, bringing his hand to Otabek’s injured cheek. “You should clean that up and put some ointment on it.”

         “It’s fine,” he insists, brushing the hand away.

         “Beka, go get the first aid kit. It could get infected.”

         “Okay, okay.” Otabek heads to the bathroom.

         While he’s gone, Potya jumps up to take his spot on the couch, watching in curiosity as Yuri continues drying off the stray. “Hey, be nice,” Yuri warns with a wag of his finger. Potya isn’t accustomed to being around other animals besides Viktor’s and Yuuri’s poodle, Makkachin, but after sniffing the newcomer for a few seconds and letting out a hiss, he loses interest, hopping down to the floor with a flounce of his fluffy tail before climbing to the very top of his cat tower.

         Well, that went surprisingly…okay, Yuri thinks. Ideally, he’d like to keep one of the cats in a separate room for the time being, but in an apartment devoid of proper rooms, that really isn’t an option.

         After checking to see if the stray is a boy or a girl – definitely male – Yuri sets him down on the floor and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a can of Potya’s food from one of the upper cabinets. The stray follows after him, meowing at the top of his lungs as Yuri pulls back the tab on the can.

         “Hold on, just a minute,” he laughs, dumping the food into an old bowl of Potya’s and placing it down on the floor. “There. Hope you like chicken and tuna.”

         He does, if the way he chows down on the food is any indication, practically inhaling it. Yuri smirks, reminded of the way Yuuri always shovels bowls of katsudon in his mouth, and squats down to pet the tabby. It had probably been days since he had a decent meal. If Otabek hadn’t found and rescued him… “Man, you’re a lucky kitty,” Yuri murmurs.

         The tabby takes a break from eating, a loud purr vibrating through his emaciated body as he rubs his head against Yuri’s hand. Yuri practically dies from the cute, glad that Otabek’s not in earshot as he babbles high-pitched nonsense. Not that Otabek isn’t fully aware what being in the vicinity of an adorable kitty will do to him, but he likes to think he has some pride left.

         “Oh, gotta take a pic!”

         He pulls his phone back out and takes a few snapshots, choosing the cutest one to post on his Instagram. He captions it: Beka rescued this tabby from a tree near the rink. Nobody claims him? HE’S MINE!

         There, he’s done his duty to try to find the owner, although Yuri doubts he has one. If he does, then they’re obviously not a very good one.

         Leaving the tabby to continue eating his food, Yuri stands back up and sets his phone on the counter. Otabek still hasn’t returned to the living area, causing Yuri to frown. It shouldn’t take so long just to clean and bandage a scratch, should it?

         He knocks on the door to the bathroom. “Beka, do you need some help in there?”

         “No, I’m almost done. I’ll be out in a sec.”

         Yuri opens the door anyway. Otabek is standing shirtless in front of the mirror, applying topical ointment to the before-unseen scratches on his chest and abdomen. A gauze bandage already covers the one on his face.

         “Wow, Salchow really did a number on you,” Yuri says, leaning against the doorframe.

         Otabek meets his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, cocking an eyebrow. “Salchow?”

         “That’s what I decided to name him. It is a him, by the way. I checked.”

         “Good name,” Otabek says, smiling as he turns around, bracing himself against the vanity. “I guess that means we’re keeping him?”

         Oh, right, it isn’t just his decision anymore. Yuri forgot. Probably should’ve waited to post that picture until after they had discussed it…

         “I mean, do you mind? I don’t think he has an owner, and we can’t just let him loose again…”

         “It’s fine, but will he and Potya get along? You know how Potya gets around strangers…”

         Potya does tend to be wary when unknown people visit the apartment, although strangely enough, he had accepted Otabek almost right away. Sometimes Yuri suspects Potya even likes Otabek better than him.

         He pokes his head back into the living area, checking on them. So far, so good. Salchow is still chowing down on his food, and Potya has begun cleaning himself on top of the cat tower, completely ignoring the newcomer as he licks his paws. “I…think it’ll be okay?” he says, turning back around. “They haven’t killed each other yet, at least.”

         “That’s a low bar you’ve set for feline friendship.”

         Yuri rolls his eyes. “Whatever.  Here, give me that. You missed some.”

         Coming further into the bathroom, he takes the tube of antibiotic ointment from Otabek’s hand, squeezing a small amount on the tip of his finger and spreading it over a scratch located just above the waistband of his jeans.

         At his touch, Otabek’s breath hitches at the back of his throat.

         Yuri glances up. “Does it hurt?”

         “No.” He presses his lips together, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, and Yuri notices his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “No, um, I’m just…sensitive…there…”

         It takes Yuri a moment to realize what exactly Otabek means by that. When he does, he jerks his finger away as if he had touched a steaming hot kettle. “Oh. Crap! Sorry.”

         Otabek chuckles. “It’s not like I mind, you know.”

         “Yeah, but…”

         Not for the first time, Yuri wonders if Otabek is really satisfied with their relationship in its current state. Whenever he asks, Otabek always assures him that he is, that he loves just being with him even if they never do anything beyond cuddling and the occasional chaste kiss, but sometimes it’s hard for Yuri to believe.   

         “It really was stupid of you to bring Salchow home with you on your bike, though,” Yuri says, changing the subject. He turns his attention to another scratch underneath Otabek’s ribcage. “If he had tried to escape out of your jacket and you lost control…”

         Yuri shakes his head, trying to force the image of Otabek’s bloodied body laying lifeless in the snow beside the crumpled metal of his motorcycle out of his mind. It doesn’t work. His eyes well up anyway against his will, and he sniffles, swearing as he swipes his hand over his face.

         This isn’t him. He’s the Ice Tiger of Russia – tough and fierce. But he can’t help it when it comes to Otabek. He loves him too much, even if it’s not the same kind of “love” that most people expect. Yuri doesn’t really believe in soulmates, but if such a thing really existed, he has no doubt Otabek would be his.

         “Yura…” Otabek places his hands on Yuri’s upper arms. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he says softly, resting his forehead against Yuri’s.

         “You should be.” Yuri tries to glare at him through his tears, but it’s half-hearted at best, his anger swallowed by the overwhelming relief he feels that Otabek made it home safe and in one piece, minus a few scratches.

         Sighing, he wraps his arms around Otabek’s waist and buries his head in his shoulder. “You really did scare me,” he admits in a muffled voice as Otabek returns the embrace. “It was getting so late, and the snow kept falling, and…and… Well, you should have called me!”

         “I know. I’m sorry.” Otabek kisses the top of his head, hugging him even tighter. The front of his favorite sweatshirt is no doubt covered in smears of ointment, but Yuri doesn’t care, taking comfort in the warmth of his body heat. “My phone died right after I sent that last text to you. I forgot to charge it.”

         “Not an excuse.”

         Otabek laughs softly, but Yuri’s one hundred percent serious. He doesn’t ever want to worry about him like that ever again. “No more driving your bike in bad weather, okay?”

         “Okay,” Otabek says, not even putting up the pretense of an argument.

         “And keep your stupid phone charged, too. You’re usually better about that.”

         “Okay.”

         “And –”

         “Okay.”

         Yuri finally pulls away, looking back up. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

         “'And don’t ever leave me alone in the world'…right?”

         Dammit, it annoys him when Otabek reads his mind like that. Is he really so predictable? “Well, I wasn’t gonna say it like that…” Shifting his eyes downward to stare at the tile floor, Yuri tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “…but, um, yeah, that was the general gist of it, I guess.”

         Otabek brushes back Yuri’s bangs and kisses him on his forehead. “Okay, I promise I won’t die,” he says in a soft voice.

         If only it was possible to keep such a promise… Yuri wraps his arms around Otabek’s waist, allowing him to hug him once again. “Just… try not to get yourself killed,” he amends. “That’s good enough for me.”

         “Deal.”

         The two of them stay like that for a long moment, embracing each other  until a crashing sound followed by a stampede of tiny paws breaks the mood. Groaning, Yuri releases his hold.

         “I knew the peace was too good to last,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, Beka. Let’s round up the kids before they really do kill each other.”

[bohemian-rhapsody-slash]

Inspired By The trans!Brian Ask (Maylor)

Thanks for the submission @deep-dark-purple!

*****

I reached my ask limit I was vaguely aware that was a thing but had never had it occur. I was inspired like I've never written this much in one sitting ever. Full stop. I just had to get it out. I couldn't stop thinking about that AU. If you want me to finish submitting via asks as well I can do it later tonight Though I can't remember how many parts I was able to send so I would send the last half. 

(Yeah you read that right it’s 20 parts but I don't think its narrative structure is how I would like it for posting so editing is required and there's no way I'm doing that.) This was inspired by the trans!Brian post. Surprisingly Brian has been presenting as male since he was about 4 which is very young even now a days. This was due to Brian's behavior, it was getting more and more troubling and it started not long after his 3rd birthday. At first, they wrote it off as a phase. 1/20

They hoped he would just get passed it soon but after 6 months it became clear that wasn't going to happen. He would have tantrums whenever Ruth tried to dress him in, he refused to play with most of his toys because "there too girly." They thought that if they took away the only ones he would play with he would then start playing with the other toys (those toys happened to be gender neutral and space themed in hindsight Brain realizes that’s why he studied astrophysics. 2/20

Those toys were his refuge the only things that didn’t make him feel “wrong”.)  To say that plan is failure is an understatement. He would break them or try to throw them away. Within the week they gave his toys back by then he didn't even have any other toys to play with. Plus, they couldn't stand seeing Brian so distraught for any longer. Brian stopped responding to his name and would only acknowledge that someone was talking to him was if they were using a gender-neutral pet name. 3/20

This was the most troubling to his dad since he had been calling him princess since before he was born. So hearing Brian yell that he isn't his princess was like a punch in the gut but he thought it wasn't like they can just "pretend" that he was a boy. Right? That was a revolution to Brian's mom though. She has had to deal this much more then Brian's dad so she was willing to try anything but Brian's dad is like "we absolutely will not do that" and she didn't consider going against him. 4/20

Soon after that conversation Brian's tantrums started to involve hurting himself and that was her breaking point. The thought that she could lose Brain when it was so hard to have him in the first place. She didn't care that it wasn't what her husband wanted because given the choice between the two of them she would pick her baby every time. They basically bent to everything he wanted so he could feel like a boy and the effect was immediate and it was such a relief.  5/20

They ask him what he wants to be called since he doesn't like what they've been calling him. He asks why they were calling the other name and they explained how naming works and since they thought he was a girl they picked it out for him. He responds to that by asking that since he is actually a boy what will be his name. Since “only mommies and daddies can pick names.” Plus, that is kind of a difficult question for someone so young. So, from then on, he was called Brian. 6/20

They didn't think that it would last but a few years later right before he was supposed to start school and Brian is "still" a boy. They ask him if he wants to be a girl when he goes to school and that conversation didn't go well to say the least. They decided that the best thing to do is to move somewhere that no one remembers that they had a daughter and now they have a son. They go all out, changing anything that says Brian is made to say that he's a boy. (easier in 1950s?) 7/20

The only issue that they could see arising is baby and toddler photos that are framed around the house. Ruth can't barre the thought of getting rid of them or hide them away. Plus, it would weird to only have pictures of him often the age 4 1/2. The explanation they came up with was that Ruth was pregnant with a girl and miscarried but soon after was pregnant with Brian. So they had all these girl clothes. Since money was a little tight and babies don't care about those things. 8/20

It also helped because no one is going to ask any follow up questions after hearing that it's having to do with a miscarriage. (I've also heard that sometimes parents of trans kids do feel grief after their kids transitions so it doesn't feel like as much of a lie since they feel like they lost a daughter but again I'm in no way an expert so take that with a grain of salt.) From there on out Brian has no issues in school and is a great student. The main issue is puberty. 9/20

 Thankfully his mom has become kind of unstoppable and even in the 60s they were able start Brian on hormones. A sympathetic doctor purposely misdiagnosed so even in the future he wouldn't have issues getting more without drawing attention to himself. Fast forward again to Roger's Smile audition which played out much the same as it did IRL but with one major exception. Brian is so jealous that Roger is so comfortable with himself. 10/20

 Roger has no issues with wearing women's clothes and having long hair and being so beautiful that he is mistaken for a woman more often than not. Wait, scratch that last one. I shouldn't think about him like that, he's a band mate and a guy. No matter how charming and funny he is and they sound great playing together. Queue gay crises (though I'm thinking him as demi in this AU and would make a lot of sense since this is his first crush he's even had, 11/20

So, considering that he doesn't have this realization until he's known Roger for more than a year and he's just noticed that his feelings started to change for Roger in the last month or so when Tim left the band. (I'm not going to bother with researching to see if that timeline works right. I've already spent way too much time on this as it is.)) Once he starts thinking about his feelings he can't stop. It's both the best and worst thing he's ever felt. 12/20

The pinning lasts nearly 6 months, during that time Brian gets upset whenever Roger brings someone home. Roger does notice it but thinks its jealousy because that was his aim. He thought that if he made Brian jealous so Brian would start having the same feelings he has. (mutual pinning!) After months of this he accepts that Brian won't ever think of him like that. So, Roger starts taking home guys instead of girls. He had always been discreet when it came to his male hookups. 13/20

Queue Freddie coming to the rescue. He is so over all this. When Roger starts bring home guys that look more and more like Brian, he feels like it's his duty to end this ridiculous situation. (this is where I'm blank I don't know how Freddie helps them get together but he does and never lets them forget it.) Brian does have Roger agree to taking it slow using all sorts of reasons with the exception of him being trans and a virgin (love me some experienced/inexperienced tropes) 14/20

Roger wants to be patient and he tries but he feels this is getting ridiculous and he doesn't want to push because he knows what that feels like and it sucks (I'm not bothering to figure out that this is already to long.) The biggest problem is he feels like Brian is keeping something from him but he thought it was just embarrassed about being inexperienced but then he brings it up during their nearly daily blue ball inducing make out session. 15/20

He tells Brian if that's what he's worried about he doesn't have to be. Basically, they finally have a conversation and Roger is really sweet and tells him about some of his not so great encounters so if anything, he's kind of grateful since that means he's never had to deal with that. (I'm thinking it was a bunch of different things and people that in retrospect he wasn't ready for.) Then he says whatever they do it would be a first for him since it would be with someone he loves. 16/20

That's the first time either of them had said that. It made Brian feel so guilty that he's been keeping something so big and it shows on his face so Roger backtracks because he realizes how that may sound like pressuring Brian considering what they were just talking about. Brian can't take Roger apologizing when this is all "his fault." Once Brian is able to get Roger to shut up Brian says that he loves him too which is why I need to tell you something. (super ominous) 17/20

I don't feel comfortable writing that confession since I'm not qualified to. Basically, Brian tries his best to explain everything (it's the first time he's ever done this) Brian says he understands if Roger wants to break up. Roger says he doesn't but he has a lot of questions. So, Brian says he'll answer anything he wants to ask since he's never felt more relieved. They talk for hours some questions are meant to make Brian laugh some are serious or insensitive. 18/20

They end up falling asleep on the couch cuddling. (They’ve been in the living room I never mentioned that. It's as per Brian's request, he thought it would be easier to keep themselves from going too far then if they were on a bed.) There is all lot of instances of dysphoria but Brian always does his best to explain what caused it so they can avoid it in the future. It still takes a while (like a few months) for them to work up to sex. After he asks Roger if it's always that good. 19/20

Roger says no it's not and that it's just him that made it good. (I know that's really cheesy but I don't care.) The whole thing is adorable. Other things in this AU: It's Roger that made Brian comfortable enough to grow out his hair which is why he keeps it the same for the rest of his life. Roger is bisexual here. Brian's dad is still disapproving he's worried about draw attention and what would happen if he was outed. This took me 4 hours but I needed to get it out somewhere. 20/20