#National Week of Deaf People

[positivelyqueer]

Hello!

18 - 24 September 2023 is National Week of Deaf People in Australia, coincide with International Week of Deaf People (IWDP) and International Day of Sign Languages (IDSL).

Theme this year: A World Where Deaf People Can Sign Anywhere.

From organisation 'Deaf Australia': "[NWDP] opportunity for Deaf people to celebrate their communities, language, culture and history; make the public aware of their local, state and national Deaf communities; and to recognise their achievements."

Good time look local Deaf organisations and communities, see what events happening in state/territory!

Hope Deaf people get to enjoy community and events, and have good week!

[imagines--galore]

Can you please write a zuko x reader hurt/comfort fic please? I’m not sure what prompts you have for it. But take as much time as you need and feel much better soon.

Pairing: Zuko x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Hurt/Comfort. A/N: Ok but this broke my heart a little but it turned out so sweet in the end!

It never got any easier.

Every time you went to see your father it would end in disaster. He refused to speak with you, or even acknowledge your existence. That you were standing there and speaking to him.

Nothing.

No reaction.

And it broke your heart a hundred times over.

It happened every single week. And you knew there would come a time when you would simply stop coming to him. There was so much going on in your life that you couldn't possibly keep coming to see him.

Your father. The war prisoner. One of the top generals when it came to cruelty against everyone who was not Fire Nation.

The man who had been condemned to jail for the rest of his life.

By the Avatar no less. And yet you could not bring yourself to feel anything other then acceptance of the fate that had befallen your father. He was cruel, through and through. His crimes against humanity were too long to list, and there was no power in the world that could free him from his prison.

And you were glad of it.

Which made you feel guilty.

                                           ————————–

Sighing deeply you entered the Fire Nation Palace from a hidden door and leaned against it, heaving a small sigh as you did.

Yet another unsuccessful visit. You had visited him, spoken to him. Though when you had mentioned the new Fire Lord, your father had made a response.

And that was to spit on the floor.

Your heart clenched in your chest and you slid down the wooden door, burying your face in your hands. It was hopeless. Aang had said so from the beginning. Had told you that your father's soul was too corrupted by his own cruelty and evil that there was no coming back from it.

Probably the reason that compelled him to remove your father's firebending abilities.

Still you had tried. Tried to talk to him, make him see the evil he and the rest of the Fire Nation had been doing. But all your words fell on deaf ears, and you were beginning to give up. Perhaps you should give up. Perhaps you should refocus your attention towards more meaningful projects.

Such as helping the new Fire Lord rebuild the Fire Nation. A daunting task for one so young such as yourself and the Fire Lord. And yet, one you were willing to tackles and would see to succession.

Surely it was much easier to achieve world peace then to connect with your father once more.

All of a sudden you felt someone rest a hand on your shoulder. Startled you looked up, only to catch sight of a familiar figure standing there.

"Hello Zuko." You spoke lowly in greeting, tilting your head back so you could look at him properly. It was still strange to see Zuko back in the Fire Nation Palace. After having been gone for so long.

You had barely seen him over the years, since his father had banished him. There was the odd run-in when he would dock where your father would be stationed, and you would take the time to speak with your friend.

Of course that was all a ruse to hide your true purpose.

A source of information to General Iroh, esteemed member of the White Lotus. Your mother had been a member, one of the few females to hold the title. And while you had never been closer to your father, your mother was a different story.

When she had died of a sudden illness, you had vowed to keep carrying out her mission and provide information to the White Lotus. You hoped your news had helped save lives.

It was the least you could do considering how the other people of your nation treated everyone so cruelly.

Once the war had ended, General Iroh had advised Zuko to appoint you as a member of his Council. You had agreed to his offer, saying you wanted to help him rebuild the world. And during those first few months, your long-lost friendship with Zuko had ignited once more.

In front of the rest of the Council, the Elders, and anyone of prominence, you were Fire Lord Zuko and Chief Advisor Y/n. But once duties were done for the day, you were simply Y/n, and he was Zuko. You had worried that things would be different between the both of you now that Zuko was Fire Lord, however, it seemed he was still the same old Zuko, the one you had played with in the palace gardens as a child.

"Did you go to see your father again?" He asked, sitting down next to you. You sighed and gave a nod. Reaching up you ran a hand through your unruly hair. You had unpinned it before going to see your father. Less chance of people recognizing you when you had your hair down.

"And still no progress." You responded to which he nodded in understanding. "I'm having the same trouble as you are. Father won't give up Mom's location." The despair in his voice caused you to forget about your own pain momentarily. It would still be there to be wallowed in after you figured out a solution to Zuko's problem.

"Need me to go in there and extract the information from him?" You held out your palm to allow a small fire to erupt between your fingers and allowing it to flicker there. "Fire is an excellent form of torture."

He knew you were only joking, which was why he only shook his head at you before reaching out to engulf his hand with yours, putting the flame out. "I think he will tell me eventually. But for now, let him stay where he is."

You hummed in agreement. "Let them both stay where they are. I mean we're both amazing children to even want to speak to them after what they did to us." While Zuko had suffered physically at the hands of his father, you had been subjected to mental and emotional torture while living with your father. The man had never once said a kind word to you. And you would've been happy never visiting him again, but Iroh had been the one to urge you to speak with your father.

To try and make amends.

"Do you think our father's were born bad or that it was because of circumstances that they turned out the way they did?" You asked, allowing your body to relax against his as you leaned your head on Zuko's shoulder.

Thank goodness the both of your had removed the uncomfortable armor for the day.

"I believe they were both given a choice, and they picked the wrong one." He shrugged. "Or perhaps they thought they picked the right choice because it would benefit them. But then again, it does make them selfish doesn't it?"

You heaved a deep sigh and nodded. "Well I suppose it is a good thing the both of us have each other to get through this." Perhaps trying to look on the opposite spectrum would give you the little pick me up that you needed. His hand, which was still holding yours, squeezed your fingers a little, as he hummed in agreement.

After a few moments of sitting in silence, Zuko finally spoke. "I'm glad I have you by my side Y/n. Its made things easier for me here." Being back here still felt strange. He had spent so many years traveling that being inside the palace was a little unnerving to him. But somehow, your presence seemed to make things easier for him. And not just the Council. You were always listening and observing even if Zuko wasn't, and you would always fill him in if he missed something.

And as for you? You were just happy you had your best friend back.

Though Iroh had suggested that the both of you take a step further when it came to your friendship.

Crazy old man.

"You know I sent my own sources out. To try and fine your mother." You admitted to which he gave you a surprised look. You smiled at him. "What? Did you think I wouldn't look for Lady Ursa once I heard she was alive? I recall being her favorite at times when you did something she did not approve of."

It had been a soft of playful rivalry between the two of you, to see who would be pronounced as the favorite of the day. Lady Ursa had become something of a surrogate mother to you during the years of your mother's sickness. Sometimes you missed her just as much as you missed your own mother.

Zuko's answering smile was soft and adoring as he leaned his forehead against yours. "Thank you Y/n." You smiled, leaning into his embrace, enjoying the way his hand fit into yours, and how the very scent of him had you calming down.

"Thats what friends are for." He pulled back only to raise an eyebrow at your words and the teasing glint in your eyes.

"You do remember our status has changed since the marriage was arranged?" He asked, prompting you to shrug.

"So? Doesn't mean our friendship has to be effected. You're still that annoying boy I met when I first came here." You reached up to playfully muss his already disheveled hair. He playfully batted your hand away, grabbing your wrists to stop you, he pinned you with a look.

"But it does mean I can do this." A quick peck on the lips, followed by one of each cheeks, which had you feeling a little flustered. "An added bonus to our already established relationship." You declared, grinning at him, all your previous worries forgotten.

[twogyuu]

Alternative title: From 'Babygirl' to 'Wifey'

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

Synopsis:

“It’s time . . . wifey.”

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint, heir!cheol, terrifyingly innocent!couple (but like ~5-7 years since university is when this set so they are grown grown now 🥺)

Warnings: Mentions of food, mild themes of jealousy, suggestive if you squint hard enough

A/N: Inspired by Chanyeol and Lee Hi's song, 'Yours' and Seokmin and Cheol's Allure photoshoot. Though the photos were sultry, this literally is not sexy at all LOL. Feelings were just being felt #triggered

masterlist (can be read as a stand alone!)

You weren’t sure how long you had been standing there for, eyes peering up and trained on the glossy magazine sitting on the top rack of the red-wired stand next to the register of the 7/11 down the street from your shared apartment. The ding of sliding door fell deaf on your ears, you paid no mind to the customers skirted around you – some not caring for your presence as they had a train to catch or rushing to grab a quick meal to make at home, a few throwing dubious glances in direction, the thought of a perhaps crazed fangirl of Choi Seungcheol debating whether or not she should recklessly buy the magazine with her hard earned money, running through their mind while they handed the cashier their card. 

The pad of your thumb repeatedly running over the perfectly cut edges of the clear, heavy stone sitting on the silver band wrapped around your fourth finger, you examined the magazine cover of your fiance. A month ago, he had told you he had a photoshoot coming up. As the newly announced CEO of Sebong Holdings in the next few years to come, he was a hot topic in the media. Naturally, there were a few printing presses that wanted him to be featured in their next magazine issue. 

When he had told you “photoshoot” you had thought it would be . . . professional. Black suit and tie, clean cut hair combed back, good posture, modest – covered.

You weren’t expecting him to be wearing a tight, unbuttoned, white shirt, sleazily covered with loose blazer and his hair to be wet and stylishly tousled and hanging over his pretty brown orbs that were covered by heavy lids. 

It was anything, but professional and modest. 

It was sultry and provocative. 

You liked it, but you also didn’t. 

This was your fiance – these kinds of photos should only be for your eyes. 

Why didn’t he tell you or show you them before now?

 With a small huff, you tore your eyes away from the cover, shaking your head to clear it of the green fogging your rationality. You knew it was dumb to be jealous – Seungcheol was a public figure, and a very attractive one at that. It was only natural for society to be swooned by his sharp yet gentle features, and on top of that, his pretty words. 

Wasn’t that the worst? He was charismatic – somewhere along the lines after university, he learned how to craft his speech to sway the general public. 

He was still the Seungcheol you knew from childhood, in university – just . . . refined. 

As popular as he was with the people, he was yours at the end of the day, and he always will be after slipping the engagement ring on your finger only two weeks ago. There was no reason to suspect otherwise – he was busy with the preparations for the transition, but Seungcheol always made time for you. 

You couldn’t be mad. 

You couldn’t be jealous. 

He was literally yours and there were millions of people across the country vying to be in your position now. 

Seungcheol couldn’t even be claimed as the nation’s most eligible bachelor anymore because he had announced in an interview prior that he was happily engaged to you – though, for your privacy and safety, your identity remained hidden for now. As the wedding preparations came along, the Choi’s would introduce you slowly to the public as the heir’s partner in crime. 

The buzzing of your phone interrupted your internal fuming. Out of guilt, your heart instantly sank, at the sight of his name. You were quick to swipe at the screen to see his message.

[Choi Seungcheol]: Coming home yet?

[Choi Seungcheol]: Should I come pick you up?

[Y/N]: I’ll be there soon – at the 7/11 🙂

[Choi Seungcheol]: . . . Did I forget to buy something? 😅

[Y/N]: LoL no – we’re just running low on paper towels. I’ll see you soon ♥️

[Choi Seungcheol]: Hurry~

[Y/N]: I can’t if you keep texting!

[Choi Seungcheol]: I miss you 🙁

[Y/N]: You’ll see me soon lolol

[Choi Seungcheol]: Not soon enough! Run if you have to!

[Choi Seungcheol]: Today I cooked too 😏

You let out a soft chortle, shaking your head at his message as you tucked your phone back into your purse, making your way to the paper towel aisle. 

Even if he was the Choi Seungcheol, there was solace in knowing there was a piece of your Choi Seungcheol that people won’t ever see – for better or for worse. He was clingy and he pouts more than Jihoon’s son, but he loved unconditionally and after all these years, he still doted you like you were when you fake dating.

The honeymoon phase was eternal with Seungcheol and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Seungcheol noted as he tucked a clump of rice into his cheek. He looked at you from across the table, tilting his head to the side, much like Kkuma – the Maltese that Seungcheol inherited from his father a few years before. “What’s wrong?

You peered up from your tofu soup, wide-eyed and confused. “Hm? What would be wrong?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning in and squinting from across the square dinner table as if it would give him the answer. “Something’s off.” He frowned suddenly, peering down at his soup. “It tastes bad, doesn’t it?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you chuckled, pushing him away. “Just tired – and your soup tastes fine,” you swirled the broth before gulping down a spoonful to make a point. “You’re getting better.”

He wasn’t satisfied with your answer, but he’d let it go – for now. Seungcheol would get it out of you one way or another. 

And after being together for the better of the last five years, he’d do it fast. 

“How was 7/11?” he asked nonchalantly. 

You choked, pounding your chest. You looked up from your dinner, scowling as you reached for a napkin. 

He returned your look with a simple, but effective raise of his eyebrow. 

“Fine,” you replied hoarsely. You paused, dabbing the invisible liquid off your lips to buy yourself some time. “I . . . um . . . saw your magazine cover.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sounded, his stature visibly relaxing. He was almost . . . . amused. “Did you like them?”

You refused to give him the satisfaction he was seeking in seeing you squirm, holding your posture stiff and eyes looking away from him. 

“They were interesting, to say the least,” you nodded. 

“You liked them,” he smirked. 

“You said it was a professional photoshoot,” you remarked. 

“And they were,” he shrugged. 

At this, you peered up at him once more, less happy with his smart and quick response. He gave you a shit-eating grin knowing he nailed what was bothering you and more. 

“I was expecting something . . . err, different,” you added. “More . . . modest.”

“Are you jealous, right now?” he chuckled. 

“N-no,” you whined, “Stop.”

“Aww,” he cooed, getting out of his seat to make his way over to you. A hearty laugh emanated from his chest as he wrapped you in a tight embrace. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Seungcheol!” you whined trying to push him away. 

“I love you,” he planted a peck on the crown of your head, continuing to smoosh you in between his arms. 

“Seungcheol – it’s fine! I’m fine now! You looked amazing! I know – we know!”

You know you stood no chance against him, quick to give in and settle into his chest, wrapping your own hands around his waist. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, your whines replaced with bouts of breathy laughter. 

You already knew you were being ridiculous earlier and even then, he was quick to reassure you.

A comfortable silence settled in, the both of you savoring the simple, but intimate moment. Seungcheol rubbed soothing circles into your back, your eyes fluttering shut at his touch. There were the occasional shared giggles and slap of his hand when his hand lingered a little too low for your liking, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“Still on the topic of photoshoots,” Seungcheol mumbled into your shoulder. You felt him press his plush lips against your skin. 

“It’s been like . . . almost ten minutes since we dropped the topic,” you snickered. 

“Wanna do a professional photoshoot with me?” he ignored your comment and asked instead. His tone was ingenuous. 

Pulling back, arms slipping down his biceps, you stared at him owlishly, waiting for him to tell you he was kidding or pinch your nose and say ‘sike.’

Like his voice though, there wasn’t a hint of mischief in his expression. Only a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes glistening with hope as he patiently awaited your answer. 

Cupping his cheeks, you asked softly. “I think I need more details, Cheol.”

“It’s like one of those . . . engagement photoshoots, but fake – not our real ones that we’ll share for our wedding, but for the public,” he explained, gently reminding you about introducing you to the world as Seungcheol’s fiance. “Mr. Kang said my father has something set up – we just have to give them the signal that we’re a go.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he waited a beat before adding, “It’s time . . . wifey.”

“We’ve evolved from babygirl to wifey,” you joked to shake off the nerves of the request. You gave him a chaste kiss. 

“Are you ready though?” he asked earnestly. “If you’re not, we can wait a little longer.”

Were you? He was yours for the rest of time – whether it was today or another fifty years down the line, the public would find out. 

And what was there to be ashamed of? Afraid of?

The facts were simple and plain: he was yours and you were his. 

Though flashing cameras and watchful eyes of his world were overwhelming at times, it wasn’t anything the both of you couldn’t work through. 

“It’s okay, I’m . . . I’m ready,” you nodded. You raised a finger to his chest, pressing it against his sternum. “Hubby.”

At the drop of the word, you immediately crinkled your nose and shook your head. “That didn’t come out right.”

Seungcheol chortled, pulling you into another bear hug. “You’re right, it didn’t,” he patted the back of your head, “Seungcheol is just fine from you – alternatively, ‘babe’ or ‘sexy’ is also acceptable.”

You snorted. “On Jihoon’s death bed maybe.”

“You’re right, wifey.”

[charlie-lec-stories]

Better // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: You can cure the enmity between Max and Charles, but never their competitive drive.

Warnings: A tiny little bit of angst, but not much. Charles and Max taking things too far (like always).

Author’s Note: A story that explores the power battles inside a poly-relationship where there are three dominant people. A little story time: I wrote this while living in Argentina -something about me, I'm Spaniard but been living in Argentina for like, forever- and since my characters were inspired by friends of mine, the characters were originally Argentinian. I'm actually too lazy to think of another nationality for the female character and also it'd take too long to change it all the time to do something more culturally neutral, so I will leave it like that, sometimes you may find some things about her being latina, but not too much, so if you'd rather ignore it, knock yourself out! Rate: +16 (inappropriate language)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She loved them. She really did, with her whole heart, but she had never felt so tempted to throw them both out the window as right now. It started as a harmless breakfast, just the three of them, and what was just a simple comment of how much she loved the perfume Max brought for her, became the spark that ignited Charles' competitive side. He just couldn't help it, he had to say that the Channel one he brought was better on her. She never said anything about Max's being better, she just said that she loved it, because she did. Of course, Max took that personal, and five minutes later they were spraying her wrists with both perfumes and pressuring her to choose which one was better. Because that was the word that always meant trouble around them. They had fought their whole lives to settle which one of them was better and they just needed to bring that into the relationship too. Who wore the best outfit, who was a better driver, who was better at video games, who played football better, who was smarter, who read more books, who could name more capital cities, who had more points on Grill the Grid, you could make her moan first, who could unclasp her bra faster, who lasted more, who got less tired, who brought the best gifts... It was constant. At first, they would argue about it, random accusations of cheating at every game or challenge they faced, convinced that the other one simply couldn't be better. Mean comments thrown in the middle of situations that should be about love and pleasure. After a few times of Y/N simply grabbing her clothes and getting dressed again, leaving them alone in the room, they stopped arguing, but never competing.

"C'mon, mon amour. I know that you love this one". Charles insisted, caressing her hand and smiling at her.

"I do-"

"I told you". Charles cut her off to show Max who won.

"She loves mine more, that's why she wears it all the time. Right, Schat?". She just wanted to be swallowed by the earth.

"Of course I love yours-".

"More, you love it more". Max finished the sentence for her. She was not going to say 'more', she was planning on saying 'too', but it was pointless to argue. It was true, she wore Max's often, but she also kept Charles' for important occasions, it was just that both perfumes were for different types of situations. Charles' was too elegant and expensive to use it everyday, and Max's has perfect to wear on her daily basis. But they didn't want to hear about that.

"She didn't wear it for the gala last year. I don't think she likes it that much, Max". Charles was definitely looking for an argument.

"She just said it, are you deaf?". Things were escalating quickly.

She barely got out of that alive.

The next week it was race week, and they were already on edge with the competitiveness. The first free practice session went alright, Charles was the fastest, 0.011 faster than Max, and the Dutch just couldn't take it. He wanted to do better than Charles in practice two, but he just simply couldn't. When it came to speed, Charles was an expert and Max had a hard time accepting that. He complained the whole drive back to the hotel. She had agreed to go to and back from the paddock with him because they were staying at the same hotel. He talked about Charles and his powerful Ferrari engine like they were Netherlands' number one enemies, stating the he was kicking Charles' ass the next day at practice three. She just let him talk, take things off his chest. It was just Friday and they were already racing. She was competitive, you can't thrive in Formula One without competitiveness, but she did the best she could to leave that out of the relationship. Even if she wanted to win and do better than them on the sport, she was aware that love celebrates each other victories and supports through the defeats. Once back at the hotel, Max did what he always did when he felt like he had given a bad performance on the track, he searched for reassurance. Sex had been, though the whole history of human kind, one of the most primal ways of getting someone else's approval, and even if she enjoyed it, it wasn't the most healthy coping mechanism for his frustration.

"Max, we should sleep". She said while he kissed her neck and pulled at her clothes, they had barely set foot inside the room and he was already all over her. "We have practice tomorrow, and Qualifying. We need the sleep".

"I'll make you feel good and then we sleep". He kept softly pushing her towards the bed, his hand sneaking under her shirt after she didn't take it off as fast as he wanted her to. "I promise, Schat, please".

"Okay, but we can't stay up too late".

They did stay up late, and the next day she was extremely tired, the few hours she got of sleep not enough for her to be properly rested. Charles noticed instantly what they had been up to the night before. It wasn't the first time that Y/N and Max had alone time, just as he had with her sometimes or as the two men did whenever she was out with friends or back at home visiting family. But the sight of her fighting sleep and Max's big ass smirk when he passed him by just fueled Charles' most petty side. It was the implied 'I won' that made Charles furious. Max did better at free practice three and then, got pole in Qualifying. Charles ended up fourth, behind Y/N on second place and George Russell between them. Now it was his turn to be pissed. He went straight back to his hotel and sent Y/N a message, telling her that he wanted to see her. She knew what to expect, so when Charles pinned her against the door, she wasn't surprised.

"Don't. We're not doing it, Charles". He stopped attacking her collarbones instantly and looked up at her eyes. She was dead serious. "I mean it".

"Okay". Breathing heavily, he moved backwards just a few centimeters, giving her some space. "Can I ask why?". She huffed. "I know that you don't own me an explanation, I'm just curious. I promise".

"I'm just tired. I need to sleep". She looked genuinely exhausted. "I can't be the referee of your competition with Max tonight".

"I don't want to make love to you just to compete with Max, Amour". She scoffed, feeling kind of insulted.

"Tell yourself that enough and you might believe it". She was properly angry and Charles started to recognize that things were going too far.

"I'm sorry for making you feel that way". But she was way past apologies.

"You're just a pair of troglodytes!". Charles did a mental note to search for that word later, it definitely wasn't good, but he just didn't know how bad it was. "I'm sick and tired of being in the middle of your little beef. If you want to know who fucks better just go ahead and fuck each other and leave me out of it". With that, she stormed out of the room.

"Troglodytes veut dire... hommes des cavernes? Putain". (Troglodytes means... cavemen? Fuck).

They did fuck up bad.

Charles woke up the next morning with Max pounding his fist on his room's door. He checked the time before getting up, a lot earlier than when he needed to be up. He walked to the door and let Max in. His boyfriend was notoriously anxious, he kept rambling in Dutch and mixing it with some English words. From what Charles could grasp, Y/N refused to let him into her room last night and then left him on seen when he texted her goodnight. Charles already knew she was mad but for Max, she had just gotten angry out of nowhere. "We are troglodytes", Charles informed Max, who looked kind of surprised that Charles would use that word. But she was right, as a pair of cavemen, they just kept sizing each other, as if being better would make them more worthy, and through all that competition, they both lost. They had to fix it, whatever it took. If they wanted to be better so bad, then they had to do better. They sat together and thought about what they should do. Buy a gift? Make her some good dinner? Charles started writing a list of options on his phone. Max was more worried about starting on the first row with her at the race. If there was something that could scared them, it was their girlfriend driving angry. He was in trouble. At the paddock, Max and Charles were given the cold shoulder, not only by their girl, but also by Oscar and Lando, who most surely were up to date with what happened.

"Lights out and... We're racing in Hungary!". Max was forced out of the track in a blink, the Mercedes car that started next to him taking P1 and sprinting off. He went down to P3, overtaken by George too. It was kind of embarrassing, how easily she stole the race from him, just like that. Charles was close behind, in P4, and he knew that he had to build some distance because Charles couldn't be trusted with any gap. The Mercedes just flew off and Max decided to focus on keeping P3 and getting himself into the podium. P5 was Fernando Alonso, to say that Max was worried would be an understatement. He had to fight Charles while also making sure that Fernando didn't overtook them both. After his first pit stop, he got to pass George -who went down to P5- and get P2, Charles still visible on his right mirror, trying to take the inside line. They mede a little contact at the turn and Christian complained over the radio. He was in trouble, but Max couldn't do anything, the car was slow and he was doing what he could. Ferrari was so quick he could barely keep Charles at bay. GP, his race engineer, informed him that Fernando was on DRS range to the Ferrari number 16 and that the chances of the monegasque getting overtook were high. Max tried to decide: getting close to Charles and risk P2 or put some distance and then fight Fernando, who was faster than his boyfriend.

"I'll push, then focus on Fernando". He couldn't concentrate on everyone, he had to choose. Leaving Charles on his own gave Max time to build a gap with Fernando, and also made the Ferrari waste more tyre, giving him an advantage over Charles after Fernando inevitably overtook Max in a few laps. At least he could get P3.

No one was shocked when Y/N won the race, she had driven like a beast, completely untouchable. After parking her Mercedes behind the P1 sign, she ran to her team and hugged everyone. That gave Charles time to weight himself and take all of his head protections before running to her. Even if the world didn't know about Max, their relationship was public and they agreed on keeping it like that. He waited patiently for her to finish with her team and then walked to her, helping her take off her helmet and balaclava and kissing her fondly. He might be P4, but his girl won the Hungarian Grand Prix and he couldn't be happier. Max walked to them and hugged his girl, kissing the side of her head and telling her how proud he was of her. She walked out to the podium with her chest filled with pride, the Argentinian national anthem putting a smile on her face. Charles found himself proud too, as he watched his girl get her trophy and golden medal, Max standing at her right and looking at her with adoration.

The drive back to Max and Y/N's hotel was quick, them leading the way and Charles following. She was in a better mood, but she still felt like they needed to apologize properly to her for being a pair of machos, as she called them when she complained to Lando and Oscar. It was actually the brit's idea to fuel her anger to make her a menace on the track. The McLarens could barely grasp P10 there so he knew that they weren't winning that race, if he had to choose someone to get P1, he'd choose her. He made it clear: "They fight to see who's better but they never stop to consider that you could be better than them both. Doesn't that make you angry?". And damn angry she was. He wanted to watch the world burn to the ground so he could gossip about it later. "Show them who's truly the best". She walked out of Max's car not even looking back at him and completely ignored Charles, who parked next to them. They both followed to her room in complete silence. Inside, they sat on the bed and looked down at their laps, not knowing what to expect. Will she yell at them? Will she threaten with braking up? She opened a bottle of vodka from the minibar and poured 1/3 on each of the three glasses she had on the room's table, filling the rest of the glasses with orange juice. At least, if she was going to scream at them, they could down it with some alcohol. But after handing them the glasses, she never raised her voice. On the contrary, she changed her clothes in silence and sat on the little couch in front of the bed, at the other side of the room.

"I was named the most stylish person in motorsport by Vogue, trice. I have a 7 time World Champion as my mentor and Sebastian fucking Vettel as my race engineer. I can play almost every sport. I finished high school with perfect grades. I can play the viola and cello. I can sing. I have the best score on Grill the Grid. I'm the first woman to ever win a Grand Prix and the first latina to ever race a whole F1 race. I bagged Monaco and F1's golden boy and the most dominating driver of the decade. I just have to give you one kiss and you're on your knees, desperate and begging". She made a pause and Charles and Max looked up, watching her observe the bottom of her glass like it was the most interesting thing. She sighed and stood up, walking up and stopping in front of them. They looked at her from below, following her every move. She placed the glass on the nightstand and clicked her tongue, disappointment tinting her next words. "You both acted like pricks, the only things that you didn't measure against each other were your dicks, and if you did, I don't wanna know". They both looked away, blushing, the answer to that comment revealed, and she rolled her eyes. "This competition of yours has been the most pathetically macho thing you have done and you forced me to not only witness it but, also, be a part of it".

"We're sorry, Schat, we-".

"I'm not done talking. Don't interrupt". Max shut up and nodded. "What you did sucks and I should totally be mad at you for some time, but I think you learned your lesson tonight, after the demolishing victory I pulled against you". They both nodded eagerly, happy that she was forgiving them.

"Thank you, mon amour. We'll try and do better". Charles said and reached out to her, his hand coming to the back of her knee to bring her to his lap. She decide to place each leg between theirs, sitting on both Charles' left leg and Max's right. She took their faced in her hands gently, to make them look at her.

"You're welcome". They sent her their best smiles. "I know that you'll keep competing against each other to see who's better... just know that if I'm in the picture, you're always fighting for P2".

They both were well aware of that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay, since I've seen that most of you guys like this series, I'll give it priority over other stories. Thank you for reading!

[cosmicghoul99]

The Whole Watcher Debacle

Just giving my two cents on the whole Watcher situation. I've been following this since it started, and initially, I wasn't going to say anything, but honestly, why not? (lol)

I want to start off by saying that this was not a good business decision to make. By pulling this, they are essentially alienating their international and low-income fans. The world is going through a global economic crisis, and the fact is that creating a streaming subscription service when companies like Disney and Netflix themselves are struggling is not a sound financial decision. Saying $6/month is "affordable for everyone and anyone" is a tone-deaf statement. In this economy, that is the difference between getting to eat for a day or not. It's not just "two cups of coffee". It's quite literally life or death for some people.

Now, before I get hounded by people saying that "artists deserve to get paid for their works" and "it's all about paying artists until you have to pay them yourselves." I do support small artists and small business owners. I support smaller creatives whenever I can and whenever I have the means to. The problem is that Watcher is not a small artist. They are not even a small business. They are, and apparently always have been a company. In addition to that, they are getting paid. They profit from ad reads, views, Adsense, patreon, merch, and live shows.

Their patreon alone nets them at a minimum of $30k per month. This is on the lower side, mind you. I've heard some other content creators talk about this, and it's estimated that they make around $50k-$100k from AdSense and views. On top of that, they get paid $15k-$30k per sponsored video, and a vast majority of their videos are sponsored. They would make around 60k-120k from sponsorships alone. Add all this together, and they make at least $140k monthly. This is, again, the least, and this does not count in profit from their merch or live shows. Their merch sells for anywhere between $60-90 depending on the item, and they continuously sell out. I don't know how much their live shows are, but I imagine it's something along those lines. If even 100 people bought merch, although this is likely in the thousands, they would make 6,000 minimum from just merch. The current national minimum wage in the United States is around 7 dollars. Per month, if you worked for 40 hours per week, you would make around $1,120. They are making nearly 5 times that just from their merch. They make, on the low end, $150k per month. This is more money in one month than most people can make in 2 and a half years. Even the lower end of money on Patreon makes them more money than most people make in a year. Annually, they are making, and this is greatly underestimating the amount they make, at least $1 million. On the higher end, if we calculate that they are making around $100k per month via Patreon, and we estimate with their sponsorships, the range only increases, to around $320k, adding the higher end of sponsorship money and AdSense. Yearly, that's almost $4 million. Their range is $1million-$4million. I'm sorry, but if you are netting in this profit and still need more for your business, then you are doing something wrong.

Watcher are not struggling artists living paycheck to paycheck and barely making ends meet. They are a multi-million dollar company whose owners live very comfortable lives. This is fine, but they should not act like they are struggling when this business venture was because they were operating outside their means and want to go even further beyond that. YouTube is terrible regarding many things; I get it. There is nothing wrong with creatives wishing to expand, but if you financially cannot support that decision, you should not do so. I am not okay with people being hateful and bringing up unnecessary things. Still, the fact remains that all of their CEOs show their very lavish lives and spending online and constantly talk about it on their podcasts. They could not afford those things if they were truly struggling like they tried to make people believe. Some people are being rude online, yes, and that's not a good thing, but the vast majority are being rightfully upset and are giving valid criticism on why this is a bad idea.

Watcher is not worth a $6/month subscription. They do not have enough content to justify this decision, nor do they have enough followers. Youtubers with followings much larger than theirs have tried to do this and failed. Paywalling their content is not the right move. It essentially stagnates their growth. How are people going to find them, and how are they going to get attention for this? Posting one video on YouTube every time you make a new series -which we don't know how frequently they will update- will not push that content to people. Also, most people who see that initial trailer or episode will not pay $6 monthly to see the rest. The fact is that, like it or not, at $6, they are competing with some of the biggest companies in the industry. Companies like Netflix, Disney+, Hulu, Prime, and more all have standards ad supscriptions ranging from $ 5-8 dollars, and they have a catalog of thousands of shows, movies, and more. Yes, it sucks that there is a capitalistic monopoly on these services, but switching to it is not going to help them. Going from YouTube to Vimeo OTT will not net them the profit they think it will. They will struggle on this platform because it's arguably worse than YouTube, and eventually, it will raise the price to keep content up, so they will raise their streaming price.

That's another thing. They advertised this as their own service, unattached to anything else when it's not. It's still run by another company, and now they must pay that company. It feels disingenuous to say this when it is not true. It is not an app or something you can play on TV; it is a website, a fairly sketchy one at that.

There is, again, a cost of living crisis going on. Most people cannot afford to put food on the table, much less spend this money on a streaming service. And even if people wanted to pay, they've barred their international audience from doing so. If you are not in the US, you will have to pay for a VPN to use since the website is not available outside the US, and you will also have to pay a conversion fee since they did not include regional scaling of prices. $6/month is already a lot for people in the US but for people living in other countries with a weaker currency? That's anywhere from a week of groceries to a third of their rent. They did not consider how this would affect international fans, and that's not a good business practice.

And since I will get the inevitable, "You aren't entitled to free content," I'll say this. Yes, people are not entitled to content, but creators are not entitled to people's money. The truth is that if your audience does not like something or want something, then you will not get their support. As a content creator, you must cater to your audience; you can't expect them to pay for or be interested in other content or passion projects. Also, their content is clearly not free. They do get paid. In no world do they not get paid. I will reiterate that they are not small, struggling artists who can't afford to live. Watcher isn't a small indie company that barely gets by. It is a million-dollar company with around 25 employees who live lavishly in one of the most expensive cities in the world. They do not need more money. They want more money.

Plus, people are entitled to their content when that content is mostly based on fan-submission. A lot of Watchers shows rely heavily upon fan submissions and support. Are You Scared?, Too Many Spirits, Food Files, and Ghost Files happen because fans submit stories, places to go, evidence, and more. In fact, Are You Scared and Too Many Spirits are just stories and personal anecdotes that fans share and submit, or that Watcher finds online and read aloud in a backyard. (NOT what I would call TV quality, but okay...)

They posted a while ago that they were taking submissions for a new season of Are You Scared?, Too Many Spirits, and Ghost Files. They did this fully well-aware that they would soon release a paywall. Do they expect fans to pay 6 dollars to see their own submissions? Additionally, they could pass it off as free before this- even though they were getting paid- but now they are locking this service behind a paywall, meaning they make money directly from these stories and this content. People who submitted stories should be compensated since Watcher makes money from fan content.

This still does not acknowledge that they have not responded yet. It has been nearly three days since this blew up, and they have been almost silent. And it is deafening. The only things people have gotten are posts and statements from friends and spouses of the owners that are as out-of-touch and ridiculous as this decision. This shows people that they are doubling down. They had time in the initial 24 hours to respond, and the longer they took to respond, the worse it was getting. It's very telling and a slap in the face to people who have supported them for years, from Buzzfeed to this, through many different times, including the pandemic. Watcher relies so heavily on their audience, yet they do not have the respect for their audience to at least put out a small statement. That is why people are upset. They were helped and built up so much by their audience, then made a video saying, "Thanks for supporting us for years, but if you can't afford us anymore, get out," and maintained radio silence. At the same time, their close friends and family basically called people entitled for not wanting to pay for a service they did not ask for, during a global economic crisis. No one asked for "higher production value" or "TV quality." People were happy with normal, low-production content, like the kind that got them famous/popular in the first place. Yes, they can want to make more expensive content, but they cannot guilt-trip their fanbase into paying for it. I am a small creative. If I make a ridiculously expensive art piece or something with expensive materials, then hand it to someone and say, now you have to pay me for this, even though you didn't ask for this, they will not pay me. It's as simple as that.

Yes, artists should get paid. But Watcher already get paid generously. Not only have they done wrong to their fans, but they have also screwed over their patreon members by essentially saying that they have to pay double for their content. They suddenly switched the tiers on Patreon, removed most of the content, and left only the podcast, and their members do not even get the subscription for free. Most of their Patreon members pay between the $ 10 and $20 tiers, but many also pay around $100. They don't get the service for free even after paying Watcher that much and for so many years. That's spitting on the people who have financially supported you for years.

All in all, this is a very poor financial and business decision, and they are making it worse by remaining silent. They have alienated most of their audience, upset most paying supporters, and been trending for three days for all the wrong reasons. Massive YouTubers have made videos on this, and it has broken from fandom drama into the general internet. This is the beginning of the end, unfortunately. I don't wish any ill will, this is not hate at all. No one at Watcher is a bad person at all, they just made a bad business decision. Unless they apologize, I can't see this working out.

Sorry for the massively long post, I’m not an avid watcher (hehe) or fan of their content but I've had many thoughts bouncing around my head about this business decision since this started, and I wanted to share.

TLDR: Watcher made a seriously bad business decision that upset most of their audience, including paying supporters; claimed to be struggling even though they very clearly aren't and have not responded to their incensed fanbase yet, despite the urgent need to do so.

[shannankle]

DFF, Found Footage, Technology, and the Real

Okay so I've been slowly looking into horror and technology since watching Shadow, and now DFF has me going down a related research spiral. So let's call this a sibling post to my Shadow technology series (which I am slowly working on I promise).

I just thumbed through a great book on found footage horror and a few other pieces on technology and wanted to use these as a lens to think about DFF and how it's navigating a number of themes including the distinction between reality and fiction.

DFF draws on the concept of found footage films like The Blair Witch Project. Even if DFF's main framing and style isn't found footage, the film the characters are working on is. And we get our most direct reference to a horror film when Jin references The Blair Witch Project--an iconic found footage film. So I want to start by thinking about the Blair Witch Project.

Part 1: The Blair Witch Project and DFF

Part 2: Paranormal Activity, DFF, and the Myth of the Real

Part 3: Films within Films, Surveillance Technology, and Other Connections (Man Bites Dog, Cabin in the Woods, Shutter)

Part 1: The Blair Witch Project and DFF

While found footage horror doesn't purely originate with the Blair Witch Project it certainly rocketed the concept into the popular zeitgeist. I watched the film for the first time this week, and while it didn't scare me*, I could easily see how influential it would've been at the time. The media landscape looked very different in the late 90s, and the film's marketing deliberately played up the idea that this was real footage in a way that simply couldn't be done today with our current media landscape and familiarity with the found footage genre. We're now much more familiar with fakelore as a concept in general.

*The scariest part of watching was the censored subtitles! Stop that please! They seriously were replacing things like "Oh, fuck" with "Oh, boy." I also got a car add about going out to enjoy national parks, and how they can be accessible to Deaf people, which was an interesting moment of double irony.

In her book Found Footage Horror Films: Fear and the Appearance of Reality, which I will be citing quite a bit in this post, Alexandra Heller-Nicholas notes that the Blair Witch Project came out at a time when amateur films were still relegated to home videos but entering public viewing through shows like America's Funniest Home Videos. The style was thus associated much more closely with trying to capture reality than tell a fictional story. The marketing played into this heavily--for example: using the actors' names for the characters, circulating missing persons flyers in areas where the film was being shown, and creating a website that gave background on the Blair Witch myth and information on the "missing" trio of amateur filmmakers. I chatted a bit with @slayerkitty who saw it in theaters. She explained how part of what made the film scary at the time was how real so many people thought it was and the tension of being in the audience.

TBWP and DFF Similarities

Let's start by going over some of the ways DFF might be directly pulling from the film or making homages before jumping into what I think are probably the more significant thematic connections with found footage.

Myths and an Ambiguous Antagonist:

The Blair Witch Project is set against the backdrop of a local myth about a witch in the woods. Three young adults (Heather, Josh, and Mike) go to make an amateur documentary about the witch, get lost in the woods, and are then hunted by an unseen presence. We get information about the myth through interviews with locals and a book Heather reads aloud briefly called The Blair Witch Cult. We learn about the slaughter of 5 men (which is described almost like a ritual), disappearances and deaths, and a man who was compelled by the witch to slaughter children. Similarly in DFF we have our Janta cult, which slaughters people in the name of a supernatural or spiritual force. Now I'd say this could be a nod to TBWP but it also draws on plenty of other ghosts stories and urban legends about the woods. I'm sure there are also particularly Thai valences as well beyond just being Buddhist on the surface.

Like the trio in The Blair Witch Project, the group in DFF goes into the woods to film--though they aren't traipsing through the woods, and the horror they're filming is a story of their own creation. In the present, however, the horror becomes much more than fiction, just like in TBWP. In the film, we see and hear signs that something or someone is following the trio but it's ultimately unclear if it's supernatural, locals scaring them, or them slowly cracking and turning on one another. In DFF's opening episodes it's likewise unclear if what's happening is being caused by a person, hallucinogens, or something supernatural.

Maps and Marketing:

TBWP also shows the characters turning on one another, arguing, and cracking in a way that fundamentally sabotages their survival. At one point, Mike reveals that he threw their map, their only lifeline, into the river. This is paralleled in Fluke turning away their transport and means of leaving. The map is an important focus in the film. We see Heather orienting the group and insisting she knows where they're at, while Mike insists they're lost. This culminates in them losing the map as things start getting worse. DFF slips in what I read as a potentially more direct reference to the film in episode 8. An odd new detail in the group's film where they rely on the hope of a map to get out before they're attacked by the masked killer again.

Another potential similarity to draw on has more to do with the outside marketing of TBWP. Interestingly it was marketed to appear like an indie film despite having pretty extensive funding. This makes me think of the group's film in DFF. This is meant to be a student film but they received a huge boost via Por's dad giving them extra money for a camera.

Smoking and Being Alive:

One other parallel I find interesting is the emphasis on smoking. To be fair TBWP is probably not the first or last horror film to have people smoke (the pot head is a character trope of it's own), and I was likely primed to notice because we already had "Tan smokes and has asthma" on our list of clues for DFF. Now clearly the writers of DFF are smart and are using Tan/New smoking in plot relevant ways. These details feel purposeful to the story they're crafting. But let's briefly look at how smoking shows up in TBWP.

The characters all smoke and drink alcohol. As they get lost and the days tick away they run out of food and smokes. Josh has moments that could be attributed to withdrawal where he laments that they're out of cigarettes. However, after he disappears, Mike finds some remaining cigarettes at the bottom of one of their bags. Mike comments "We're still alive cause we're smoking." For him, it signals even if briefly that they are still alive, that they're surviving.

But in DFF, smoke seems to be attached to death and dissociation. We know that New is a smoker, something he perhaps picked up in England. It starts then as a sign that he has a life, one outside of being Tan. Yet it's that very life, being abroad, that led him to be so far from Non when he disappeared. For New, his life is now tinged with guilt and loss. As @syrena-del-mar noted here, there are moments where he forgets he is supposed to be New. But the smoking becomes his one reminder that "New" is still alive.

Yet this reminder turns more and more painful. Under the exterior of Tan, he is haunted by New, the brother who didn't make it in time. And this spirals further when his mother and father die. Each time he's a step closer but still too distant to stop their deaths. At this point, he starts getting high to a dangerous degree--dissociating, hallucinating, torturing himself with visions of Non. When Phi steps in we have a parallel moment to Phi stopping Non from taking pills. Smoking turns from a sign of life to one of death as New tries to commit suicide, telling Phi "I don't want to live anymore." And New takes this further when he drugs the rest of the boys. Perhaps he didn't intend it to go so far, but he certainly is happy with the result. His drugs, his smoke have caused fear and death, rather than hope and life.

Except for the map I feel like most of these parallels can as easily be chocked up to direct inspiration as they can be attributed to both pulling on a similar well of genre conventions. What I find more interesting is the thematic conversation TBWP brings to the table for DFF.

TBWP and Thematic Resonances with DFF

Filtered Reality:

In her work on horror, Brigid Cherry remarks that The Blair Witch Project is "about the way in which technology gets in the way of seeing" (qtd in Heller-Nicholas 23). Heller-Nicholas further notes how the camera is constantly in contention with the audience's desire to look at what we want to see. In the film itself, one of the characters even remarks that looking at the world through the camera is "like a filtered reality" because you "can pretend everything isn't exactly like it is."

This looking but not seeing resonates to me with Jin. He looks at Non through the camera, seeing him as innocent, in need of protecting. But there's so much he doesn't see about Non, including the reality of poverty. Jin's perfect view of Non breaks at the moment he sees Non with Keng. But as Jin's filtered vision of Non cracks, he adds a new filter. He frames Non as a slut, someone guilty in his mind, at least in the he heat of the moment. So he records him. In doing so, he papers over the nuances of the situation, that it is SA and that there is so much of Non's life that is outside of Jin's lens.

After Non's disappearance Jin doesn't stop using his camera lens to view the world. In episode 9, he watches the others play soccer and then Phi through his camera. He is pretending nothing happened just like the rest of the group, but for him to do that he has to filter his reality. And just like with Non, Jin isn't able to see the full story around Phi from this small frame of a perspective.

I also think it's worth noting how the show, especially in the flashbacks tends to use strong framing (I note some of this in episode 5 but it persists strongly at least up until episode 9). While they aren't using a found footage style, there's still a sense at times that the camera is limiting our view as it closes in around the characters. It's as if the camera frame becomes hyper-visible, similar but not exactly like in found footage. I'm not entirely sure how to read this just yet, but it feels appropriate for both a mystery and for a story so deeply invested in perceptions. There's a strong focus on what is made visible and what is rendered invisible by the characters, by the story structure, and by the frame of the camera itself.

Gender, Space, Control:

In her discussion of TBWP, Heller-Nicholas discusses the gendered dynamics of the film and how scholars have read the film as invested in the horror of female control. This is captured in two ways. First in the way the woods as a space become imbued with the horror of the Blair Witch (pulling on a tradition of witches being women), and thus the feminine. Second, in the way that Heather, who is the director of their film, leads the group to folly. Scholar Linda C. Badley, has argued that "Heather represents a serious breach in having taken possession of the conventionally male--and often murderous--gaze" (qtd. in Heller-Nicholas 108). Heather thus enters the domain of the typically masculine and the results are disastrous.

I find it interesting to compare DFF with TBWP in this respect because they've taken a genre that often is infused with binary gender dynamics and given us all men, and predominantly queer men. This is obviously a dynamic of BL, but it's interesting to consider how this plays with the themes of gender that often proliferate in horror. This is a much broader topic, and @brifrischu and I are currently reading through Carol Clover's seminal work Men, Women, and Chainsaws so I wager we'll have more to add to the discussion at some point.

But let's look at a few things. First, if the Blair Witch imbues the woods as a space of feminine horror, DFF paints the woods as masculine. After our cold open, we are introduced to the group as they ride into the forest via Por's narration about the legend of Janta. The subtitles at the very least, refer to Janta using masculine pronouns. I don't want to assume that Thai gender coding and dynamics are identical to western ones but we might consider the way that the group of boys, packed into the back of a truck paint this as a masculine, homosocial space.

This is reinforced by the mention of Por's father. Por says "My dad warned me that, so I had to listen to him." This masculine authority is doubly highlighted by the campaign posters that literally mark his control of the space. To go any further the group must pass through these signs as a threshold to the space. Here we have not just masculinity being signaled but wealth, power, and control--something that contrasts distinctly with Non, for example, who has none of this. And of course, as we move through the story much of the horror comes from the actions of the core group of boys rather than the masked person we started with.

I find it interesting too that as Por tells the tale, it's White who comments "You almost had me scared." They then have a discussion about Tee liking to teaser "the younger ones." This focus on White as the most vulnerable is interesting given that he reads as perhaps the least traditionally masculine of the group*.

*Another reason why I'm excited to read Clover's work, is because she came up with the final girl formula in her discussion of gender in horror. I'd love to think about how we apply that in a queer context, especially given how so many of us have collectively felt White will be final girl. What might DFF be doing re: gender within the context of queerness, and what might it be asking of us as an audience?

The second aspect of this is the directorial gaze. In TBWP we have a woman taking on the control of a film project. This is important not just because Heather takes on a typically male profession but also because of the way films are imbued with what Laura Mulvey has termed "the male gaze." The view from which we see the world and the terms on which stories are told are traditionally male, while women are objects to be looked at--something Heather bucks and is punished for.

In DFF we have a similar struggle over authorship and directorial control. Instead of a strict division between feminine and masculine gazes, we get a struggle that is imbued with distinctions of class first and foremost. Por stands in as the more traditionally masculine director. We see the violence he does in trying to maintain control of the project. Of course he mostly does this through exerting his wealth. In contrast, Non doesn't fit the more aggressive masculine role, he comes from poverty, has mental illness, and is generally at the bottom of the social pyramid. His authorship comes into tension with Por's desires for directorial and social control.

There's a strong thematic exploration here of not just who gets to tell the story, but who's story gets to be told. In the end, the camera is Por's, his wealth and framing win out, and Non's authorship is buried. Much like the male gaze relegates women to objects rather than directors or authors, the only film that Non gets credit for is the sex tape in which he becomes objectified by the camera.

Of course we then have the fact that, in the present, Non's revenge script is being played out. There's a new director here, and clearly it's not entirely Phi (who tries his hand at directing in episode 1). Regardless of who is orchestrating these moves, we have an inversion of power happening. While we can't say for sure until the show has wrapped up, I suspect that DFF will lean into this inversion, rather than, like in TBWP, punishing this transgression of the norm.

That's all for now on TBWP, but certainly not all on DFF. I'm going to turn now to another important found footage film, Paranormal Activity, to unpack a bit more about DFF and it's themes.

Part 2: Paranormal Activity, DFF, and the Myth of the Real

In her work Heller-Nicholas notes how, after Paranormal Activity hit the screen, our view of found footage as a genre shifted. It was no longer seen as necessarily authentic per-se but a stylistic form. Heller-Nicholas puts it like this:

As these more popular found footage horror films made their way to the forefront of the genre, what became important was not that the audience necessarily believed that they were real, but rather that they offered a framework to knowingly indulge in a horror fantasy of the real. The solidification of a recognizable found footage horror style meant that horror audiences understood and identified them as such, defining a subgenre where an authentic style (rather than claims of authenticity itself) prevailed (Heller-Nichols, 128)

I won't go into smaller parallels between the film and DFF (partially because I haven't seen it, so if you have please add anything you notice), but I want to cover a few thematic resonances.

Heller-Nichols sketches out a few ways that critics have interpreted the film. First, as an allegory for materialism in the context of the US housing market crash of the time. Second, as a reflection on surveillance and the way changes in technology changed our relationship to cinema.

The first theme, materialism and consumption play out in the film through both the financial disparities of the characters and the more metaphorical spiritual/demonic possession that takes place. Both DFF (at least episodes 1-4) and Paranormal Activity take place in a luxurious house and themes of greed and materialism are present. In DFF, Por takes this role, flaunting his wealth and using it to get what he wants. Of all the characters, he is the one most willing to steal credit from Non. In Paranormal Activity the wealthy boyfriend even brags about buying a nice camera on only half-a-day's pay. Similarly Por brags about getting the nice camera for their film with his father's money.

One thing that set Paranormal Activity apart from earlier found footage films like The Blair Witch Project, was it's use of security camera footage. It relied on a new type of gaze that made the private public in the context of shifting surveillance technologies. While DFF largely centers itself around a film camera, it also includes other forms of technology in the background, including surveillance cameras. The CCTV cameras in Por's house come to mind as a significant way this technology comes into play. On the one hand, it helps Por identify that there is an intruder, and it helps the group find him when he is hurt. On the other hand, it encroaches on the private, capturing White and Tee having sex. This private vs public line is of course horrifically crossed when Jin records Non and Keng and when this video is circulated--surveillance right in our hands via cell phone.

Heller-Nicholas notes that post-Blair Witch, and by the time Paranormal Activity was released, audiences were much more genre savvy. She notes that the genre's "pleasures are not reliant on our gullibility, but rather our willingness to succumb to the myth of the real that these films offer..." (26). Relevant to DFF, I want to stress the "willingness to succumb to the myth of the real." I discussed earlier how Jin doesn't see Non; instead, he is happy to succumb to a myth of what could be the real Non.

But it's not just Jin who does this. Almost everyone around Non believes they see him correctly--as "Greasy", as a bad son, as a cheater, etc. This takes on even more public dimensions as the police enter the picture, as the sex tape circulates, and as the police report that he has run away with Keng. What people see and believe about Non, the narratives they tell about him, help reinforce people's existing understandings of the world--their prejudices, their assumptions, their myths of how the real world works.

And of course, film is at the center of this. The police believe that Non wasn't with the group when he disappeared because any footage he was in was hidden from them. Non is erased from the film (both in the footage and in terms of credit). The entire film premier is one big moment where everyone in the group is playing into this myth. It is taken as fact that Por's name being in the credits means this is his work--that nothing or no one of note was hidden behind the frame.

In her work Heller-Nicholas points to discovered manuscript fiction (such as Dracula) as a precursor to found footage horror. This connection highlights the way these works rely on the fiction that someone has organized the documents apart from the original author. The fictional framing of found footage as pretending to have an original author or filmmaker other than the actual director, hides the fact that The Hidden Character has in many ways literally stolen credit from Non. The genre expectations obfuscate the real story.

And then there's the sex recording (the only film Non gets credit for). We see a number of reactions to the recording from people in Non's life as well as those outside of it. The social media posts in particular stress the way Non's vulnerability is quickly slotted into pre-held narratives of sex and sexuality that refuse to see the reality of SA.

Non's SA is taken as truthful evidence of his consent via social media, while the film the group made is found footage but not seen as real. I think this marks an interesting change in the aesthetics and narratives we find "real." Horror and found footage are legible, a chance to engage in "a fantasy of the real". Meanwhile, the real story behind the film is erased, just like Non. Sadly, the most legible narrative of a young queer boy is that the phone footage is slutty or even hot. No one questions the authenticity of the recording, it is viewed as real. Ironically, compared to the horror film the group shoots, the sex tape is the real found footage film. Yet the "reality" it shows is filtered through interpretation. Non's reality gets buried.

Meanwhile, as an audience, we have the opposite reaction. We are slowly given insight into the discrepancy between Non's reality and the myths people hold. We keep asking why other characters can't or won't see the truth, why they won't help Non until it's too late.

DFF may not be found footage itself, but it is certainly interested in exploring and extending the thematic conversations about authenticity, reality, and narrative.

Part 3: Films within Films, Surveillance Technology, and Other Connections

Despite the fact that DFF references and dialogues with the found footage horror genre, it formally has more in common with films that center around technology and films within films. So I wanted to cover three more films that I think dialogue in interesting ways.

Man Bites Dog:

I'll start with Man Bites Dog since I have the least to say about it. It is a 1992 French mockumentary and black comedy, that Heller-Nicholas notes is a pretty significant and well-acknowledged precursor to the found footage horror genre. I'm not sure I want to get to deep into themes with this one. But I thought the parallels were interesting. A film crew decides to make a documentary where they follow a serial killer named Ben around only to be pulled into the crimes and become culpable themselves. That is, until Ben is killed and the film crew are taken out one by one by an unknown killer. We have a film crew that slowly gets involved and more culpable in wrong doings, just like in DFF we have the group working on a film while slowly becoming more and more culpable in harming Non. Meanwhile in the present both "film crews" are suddenly being hunted and picked off by an unknown party.

Cabin in the Woods:

Cabin in the Woods is a 2011 film that satirizes horror. A group of college students go to a cabin in the woods and are slowly picked off. The twist is that this is all orchestrated by an organization that is simultaneously surveilling and orchestrating their deaths to appease ancient deities. Many of the shots are done through drone's and other similar visuals to highlight the way the group is being surveilled. In a chapter from a collection on horror and gender, Hannah Bonner looks at Cabin in the Woods and a few other films that include surveillance and social media. She discusses the way technology in these films revolve around slut shaming young women. As she puts it, "It is the 'fact of being constantly seen', whether by high key government surveillance systems or by judgemental peers, that throws these characters into disarray or death" (89).

For Cabin in the Woods one thing Bonner examines is the way the film frames the group's "slut" character Jules. Jules and one of the guys go outside to get intimate. And the film moves between this scene and the men surveilling them who watch eagerly. Bonner reads this as a commentary on the violent gaze with which horror frames women. She makes a distinction, noting that "The voyeur is no longer just the audience, squirming in their seats from Michael Meyers's point of view as he tracks down his naked sister and her boyfriend in Halloween...now the audience as voyeur watches the voyeurs watch the surveyed" (90).

DFF makes a similar move by staging multiple instances of filming (a film within a film, or in this case a film within a show). We get a moment in episode 1 where Tee steps forward to block the group watching the CCTV footage of him and White. But this denial is in contrast to other moments. The show draws us most into being voyeurs watching voyeurs, when Jin films Non. I think it's important to note that both the moment that Bonner discusses in her chapter and this moment in DFF are sexual. In CITW, Jules is literally labeled by her surveillers as "the slut", a role she must fulfill and be killed for to appease the gods. Her lack of agency is made quite apparent. In DFF, Non is also slotted into the role of the slut by those around him, including Jin when he films the moment out of anger. While the show is not as on the nose about the whole thing, it's still clearly establishing a discrepancy between how Non is viewed by those around him due to the tape and the lack of full agency he possesses.

Moreover, by making us viewers voyeurs of this voyeurism, DFF creates a critique rather than simply a simulation of voyeurism. I am considering how this might not just be a commentary on sex shaming, but sexuality within a space where BL has historically crossed the line at times in terms of depicting SA. Or even the way that BL actors in Thailand are often expected to blur the line between the private and the public through fan service. It's interesting because clearly the show also doesn't shy away from letting us be voyeurs to sex. The show perhaps draws a distinction between representing queer sex and SA. But it's fascinating how this is mediated through voyeurism and the camera's gaze.

Shutter:

I couldn't wrap this post up without talking a bit about Shutter. Shutter is a 2004 Thai horror film (and probably Thailand's most well known horror film globally). It was part of the horror boom of the late 90s and early aughts in Thailand and Asia. If you throw Thai horror and cameras my way, I will think of Shutter. I watched it as part of some research I've been slowly doing on late 90s/early 2000s Asian horror and technology (writing meta for Shadow the series). It's a story about haunting that takes inspiration from the idea of spirit photography.

The film follows a couple, Jane and Tun, both photographers, who start seeing shadows and faces in their photos. Jane discovers that the ghost is a girl named Natre who Tun used to date in secret. They proceed by trying to figure out how Natre died (suicide) and how to get her to move on. Meanwhile Tun's friends suddenly start killing themselves. Ultimately Jane learns that Tun's friends raped Natre, and Tun not only didn't stop them but even photographed the assault at his friends' request (so Natre wouldn't snitch). Jane confronts Tun who expresses his regret, that he "never forgave [himself]." In the climax of the film Tun uses a polaroid camera to try and find Natre's ghost in real time before being driven out the window. Natre let's him live, in a near catatonic state, unlike his other friends because his betrayal hurt the most.

We once again come back to themes of voyeurism, SA, peer pressure, and culpability. The film has strong focus on the effects and betrayal of being a bystander, much like DFF does. Again this parallel is made quite strongly with Jin. Non may not have had feelings for him, but he is the kindest of the group, making his betrayal hit strongly. Jin filming Non and Keng has it's own nuances within DFF, but it certainly parallels Tun photographing Natre's assault. Similar to Non, Natre disappears in the aftermath, while Tun and his friends go on with their lives.

On a smaller note, both Tun and Jin use polaroids in what is potentially a reference to the film.

As the truth is revealed, Tun goes from a protagonist to a villain, and Natre goes from the horror of the story to the victim. DFF seems equally interested in the idea of how truths get hidden and justice withheld. It also gives us an inversion of the source of horror. By the time we end episode 5, the group we've gotten to know over four episodes are clearly villains in our minds, their cruelty becomes the horror rather than the masked killer who we come to empathize with (or at least root for to some degree). Now how this fully plays out in the end might shift things. But currently (up through episode 9) this is a horror story locating horror in power and cruelty rather than simply reinforcing a more conservative world view of the non-normative monster.

Concluding Thoughts

Dead Friend Forever is mixing genres in a smart and deft way. It's clear that the writers and director are well versed in horror and are ready to play with genre conventions to deliver their ideas and themes. Some of the connections I'm making here might be happy coincidence where the works speak to each other mediated by my own perspectives and interpretation. But I also believe that the show is building on themes and traditions in horror and found footage horror specifically in smart ways. From the framing of shots, to the way they deftly speak to themes of (in)visibility, power, reality vs fiction, agency, and sexuality (among others).

Through all this, DFF has been incredibly genre savvy. While found footage plays on the idea of reality, DFF shakes that up by throwing a who-done-it mystery our way. Like in The Blair Witch Project, for much of the show, we don't know what's real or what's in the characters' heads. DFF, however, picks up where TBWP stops. At the end of TBWP, the characters are likely killed off camera, the source of the horror still left up in the air. DFF gives us this ambiguity, but then pivots and makes the show a mystery to solve rather than locating the horror in ambiguity. This is because the horror lies elsewhere. Like in Shutter, the monster becomes the victim, our sympathies are played with, and we're left with a show that is as interested in social and political critique as it is in having fun playing with horror tropes.

Sources:

Heller-Nicholas, Alexandra. Found Footage Horror Films: Fear and the Appearance of Reality. McFarland & Company, 2014.

Badley, Linda. Film, Horror, and the Body Fantastic: Praeger, 1995.

Bonner, Hannah. “#Selfveillance: Horror’s Slut Shaming through Social Media, Sur- and Selfveillance.” Gender and Contemporary Horror in Film, edited by Samantha Holland et al., Emerald Publishing, 2019, pp. 85–99.

Cherry, Brigid. Horror. Routledge, 2009.

Shutter (film, 2004)

Cabin in the Woods (film, 2011)

Man Bites Dog (film, 1992)

The Blair Witch Project (film, 1999)

Paranormal Activity (film, 2007)

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Legend of Korra team Avatar with a mute or deaf partner

Request by @ultravioletqueen

Korra

- Loves to make you laugh, whether it's a loud laugh or just an exhale of breath she loves to do it as much as possible. She thinks your laugh is adorable. - Korra knows a lot of sign language but is working at becoming fluent because she wants to be able to communicate with you to the fullest extent. She also finds it extremely useful in her Avatar duty as it opens her up to the non-verbal and non-hearing community. - Arguments are really funny because Korra loves to provoke people and verbally argue when angry but you don't take the bait and can easily block her out. You can also non-verbally argue much better than she can so get your way most of the time. - You balance each other out well as Korra is always pretty rash, loud and aggressive whereas you take more time to process words and behaviour. As a result Korra has learned to be calmer from you but will also react on your behalf if someone is ever being rude. - You communicate a lot through your bending. Korra is pretty much an expert at bending forms and you both get a lot from sparring together. - Gets you to read all her Avatar speeches because you're a lot better at communicating than her. - Loves showing off her Avatar powers to impress you. You used to do weights together but that turned out to be a bad idea because Korra would get too distracted trying to get you to check her out. - You're very close to Tenzin and Korra's Republic City family as the air nation is the most inclusive nation and they understand your lifestyle. You love having game nights over at Air Temple island because 1. you and Korra crush it every time and 2. they all know sign language and so all night use your language rather than you having to adapt for them.

Bolin

- Very talkative, definitely talks enough for the both of you but importantly always looks for responses whether that's signing, nods, smiles or any preferred form of communication. He never talks at you but has a conversation with you - Loves to learn more about your experience and the first time he met you he definitely bored all his friends with random facts he'd learnt for like a month. - Refuses to ever let you apologise or feel odd for being different. He's always the first person to tell you you're beautiful and valid no matter if you're deaf or mute - Will literally do anything if you ask him to. At first, Bolin would need a few helpful hints at how he can change his behaviour to be more inclusive but he'd always be receptive to any suggestion you gave him. - Bolin really struggles to use sign language but attends classes and practices every day. You actually really love helping him learn because Bolin never gets frustrated or annoyed. He just tries again and his reaction when he gets it is wonderful. - The only thing that annoys him is Pabu listens to you more than him. He can be calling him for ages but all you have to do is gently stamp your foot and he comes running. - Always notices you. You met when he was a pro-bender and there could be hundreds of fans screaming his name but his eyes will always go straight to you and a smile from you is enough to put him in a good mood for hours.

Asami

- Extremely attentive, to the extent you just have to make a face or look at her and she can guess from the situation what you need. - Would probably invent you tons of cool contraptions just to make your life easier e.g. a bed that shakes when your alarm goes off or a machine that communicates for you in public. - Asami learned sign language in like a week after she met you, she's just that good. - She never presumes to answer for you just because you're mute/deaf. She always lets you answer when someone asks a question and only jumps in if you ask her to. She knows you are capable and never patronises you. - Teaches you how to play pai sho and instantly regrets it. While she can usually read you well there's no deciphering your poker face and her cries of protest just make you smirk. - Loves treating you to gifts and surprises. Asami is rich af and so you receive amazing personalised presents at every special occasion. - She seems really strong on the outside but is more vulnerable and soft with you. You're her support system and she comes to you whenever she's stressed or nervous about something. You're an excellent shoulder to cry on and she values your advice over anyone else's. - Similarly you also feel you can show your weaknesses around Asami. Being different you often felt like you had to always prove you were just as good as a non-deaf/non-mute person to be worthy. With Asami it's not like that, she makes you realise you're already perfect which helps you laugh more when you do make mistakes. For example one day Asami got a call from your neighbours because you were blasting music without realising how loud it was. When she rushed home to tell you, you both found it hilarious and it became a running joke between you.

Mako

- Protective, when you go out in public he makes you walk on the inside of the street in case a car comes too close and you can't hear it/don't realise. - Isn't a naturally noisy or talkative person so really likes the quiet and doesn't struggle adjusting at all. He actually gets overwhelmed when he leaves your home at how noisy people are. - Decides the non-verbal and non-hearing community need better treatment so meets with Beifong about having all officers learn sign language. Mako himself is of course fluent in sign language and the two of you have tons of shortcuts and signs the two of you invented yourself. - Finds it easier to open up to you than other people. Mako has never been good with words and so he finds a freedom in communicating with you. You know more about him than anyone else does. - Only introduces you to his friends after you've been dating a while not because he's nervous for them to meet you but because he's nervous for you to meet them! He considers himself pretty lucky to have met you and doesn't want them to scare you off. So he's overly cautious but when you do meet them of course you all get along great. Mako was worried for nothing. - Learns to read the micro-expressions and body language you convey. According to Mako you have ten different types of smiles, he loves your really big smile but his favourite is your small embarrassed smile when he catches you doing something cute and he loves complimenting you on it. - Mako has never been an animal person but you convince him to get a cat and he loves the thing! You name her Sheddy Shin because she sheds so much hair which Mako finds hilarious (you call her shed for short).

[allamericansbitch]

Listen I’m a big believer that celebs should shut the fuck up most of the time but the thing with neutral artists who never take a stance, especially white people is that they will unknowingly invite a very racist fandom. 

As a poc in this fandom, I’m used to swifties being racist but my god over these last couple of weeks, seeing big accounts cyber bully a Palestinian swiftie for wanting Taylor to sign a ceasefire letter is so mind-boggling. They always make hypothetical scenarios where they’re like “It’s gonna put her in danger, what is they b0mb the stage?! You can’t expect Taylor to speak about everything!” And it’s just so tone deaf, rude, and insensitive. 

We reach a point in this genocide that a lot of Palestinians no 1 ask for the rest of the world just to amplify their voice because a lot of the donation trucks are not allowed to enter Gaza and the ones that do, the UN are selling the donations instead of giving them for free. So why is it such a wild concept for racist swifties that a lot of people are asking Taylor to speak up? This is the biggest thing happening in the world right now, she literally wrote “It’s time to use your voice” in her latest story and we’ve seen time and time again how big of an impact Taylor has. 

saying arguably the most famous person on the planet rn should not speak up about palestine is not only admitting they don’t care about what palestinians IN palestine are asking for but they also care more about a pop star than the life and death of millions

this is so well put and i completely agree. taylor's silence provides comfort and a safe place for hateful people because she does not give them a reason not to feel supported, her silence creates space for them whether she knows that or not. and this can apply to politics in general because she's gone fully silent and hasn't taken a stance on anything in like 3+ years, but specifically about Palestine.

The fans who are making up hypotheticals about the terrible things that could happen if taylor dares to say anything about Palestine are some of the most ignorant, unself aware people i've ever seen. 'what if she becomes a threat' 'people could get hurt' 'they could bomb a show', hey guess what... all of that stuff is currently happening. at this very moment. to Palestines. They are being bombed, targeted and threatened as we speak but thats not what they care about, they care about the hypothetical scenario of a billionaire not being safe. A billionaire who, within seconds of any hint of a threat has an abundance of resources to keep herself and everyone around her safe. Palestines cannot even imagine that privilege those fans are ignoring. Imagine looking at a Palestinian and saying 'sorry she cant speak up and support you, her safety might be threatened'. All of the worst hypotheticals they can imagine happening to Taylor are currently happening to Palestinians but they dont matter as much to them i guess.

Fans will really expose themsleves and how little they actually care about real life cruelty in order to defend a women who will never be their friend. 'her saying anything wont change anything', it might not, or maybe it will.... so human life isnt worth the chance of finding out? 'she's not a politician she's a singer' so singers cant care about genocide? singers are above the deaths of a nation? 'she might get hurt' so you care more about the hypothetical hurt of a stranger than the real life hurt of thousands, mostly children. Fans speaking on behalf of or dismissing the suffering of Palestinians to make their fav pop star not look bad is indeed a disturbing thing.

Taylor first hand knows how powerful her fandom is, with the re-recordings, breaking records, being on the biggest tour of her career and it selling out immediately all over the world. she knows her fans can move mountains, she saw it with voter registrations going up and spiking the second she finally spoke up about politics. she knows her words are some of the most heard around the world and her choosing to not denounce genocide says a lot about her, none of it surprising. that environment of indifference and silence invites hateful people and a hateful environment for those who want morality and change. people will bend over backwards to protect someone who doesnt protect others less fortune and privileged than she is. we know she probably isnt gonna say anything about this, she cant even take a stance on american politics, not even on a state level. denouncing a genocide is too much for her, it might make people mad at her, god forbid. she values ticket sales and her popularity over morality and change, it's that simple. And she’s found a fanbase that feels the same way.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Lisa Selin Davis

Published: Apr 15, 2024

A thoughtful, comprehensive review just released in Britain points to a way out of the political impasse over youth gender treatments.

The toxicity of the culture war over youth gender medicine is well known to most of us. What’s less well understood is how that poisonous climate affects the very cohort being argued about — and those who care for them.

An exhaustive, level-headed 388-page report, commissioned by the National Health Service in England and released last week, warns: “Polarisation and stifling of debate do nothing to help the young people caught in the middle of a stormy social discourse.”

The Cass Review, led by Dr. Hilary Cass, examines the events and evidence (or lack thereof) that led to the closing of the UK’s only public youth gender clinic, the Gender Identity Development Services. GIDS opened in 1989 and at first served only 10 clients per year, mostly males who received psychological therapy; few medically transitioned. By 2016, GIDS was seeing nearly 1,800 clients a year, and multiple concerned clinicians there were blowing the whistle about the poor quality of the care. For years, their complaints mostly fell on deaf ears.

This document allows them to be heard. It is exceptional in many ways, including its scope. Cass spoke to many different and competing stakeholders, including disagreeing clinicians, “transgender adults who are leading positive and successful lives,” and “people who have detransitioned, some of whom deeply regret their earlier decisions.”

Cass reaches back into the history of youth gender medicine, formalized in the late 1990s in the Netherlands. She observes that the entire practice is “based on a single Dutch study which suggested that puberty blockers may improve psychological wellbeing for a narrowly defined group of children with gender incongruence.”

Recent scrutiny of the Dutch research revealed that the methodology was too flawed to support that conclusion. The Dutch approach involved something different from what has become the norm in the United States and was the norm at GIDS for a time. The Dutch doctors and psychologists offered youths extensive evaluation over long periods of time, discouraged social transition before puberty, and limited interventions to a carefully selected cohort who’d suffered from lifelong gender dysphoria, didn’t have other serious mental health issues, and lived in supportive families.

In America, this approach became denigrated as “gatekeeping,” and we veered toward a model known as “affirming.” We shifted from treating gender dysphoria to affirming a trans identity, letting a child’s feelings lead the way, and allowing social transition at any age. Here, manifesting one’s gender identity separate from natal sex was eventually seen as a civil right, rather than as a series of psychological and medical interventions — a model that influenced GIDS. But science doesn’t work that way. “Although some think the clinical approach should be based on a social justice model,” writes Cass, the National Health Service “works in an evidence-based way.”

That social justice / civil rights framing has made it harder to reckon with what Cass calls the “exponential rise” in adolescent patients starting around 2014, and a reversal in the sex ratio. Once it was mostly natal males who transitioned, but now it is mostly natal females, many of whom had no history of gender distress but did suffer from other mental health issues.

As for the evidence about how to treat these patients and others who havesought care, Cass concludes: “The reality is that we have no good evidence on the long-term outcomes of interventions to manage gender-related distress.” Individual studies may make claims about the efficacy of social transition, puberty blockers, or hormones, but they are too biased and low quality to draw conclusions from.

The National Health Service had already recently declared that puberty blockers would no longer be used for young people with gender dysphoria, “because there is not enough evidence of safety and clinical effectiveness.” The Cass Review confirms this, noting that “bone density is compromised during puberty suppression” and that doctors don’t know enough about the effects on “psychological or psychosocial wellbeing, cognitive development, cardio-metabolic risk, or fertility.” No evidence proved that blockers provided “time to think,” as many proponents of affirmation claim, but there is “concern that they may change the trajectory of psychosexual and gender identity development.”

As for the claim that these interventions prevent suicide, Cass reports that “the evidence found did not support this conclusion.”

Perhaps most important, Cass notes that “clinicians have told us they are unable to determine with any certainty which children and young people will go on to have an enduring trans identity.” That is, in contrast to the affirmative model’s claim that “children know themselves,” the few high-quality studies we have suggest that gender dysphoria in kids most often resolves during puberty, as they develop and mature and gain a deeper understanding of the interplay between gender and sexuality. Many grow up to be gay.

These findings fly in the face of claims by activist groups that the science is settled and that gender-affirming care is “evidence-based” and “lifesaving.” But the findings also don’t negate the fact that some young people are deeply grateful to have transitioned.

Cass isn’t calling for a complete ban on youth gender interventions, like the bans many Republican states have enacted. Nor is she arguing for removing barriers to these interventions and making them more accessible without parental knowledge or consent, as many Democrats advocate. Her recommendation is to expand services but root them in holistic psychological care, making sure all other mental health issues are attended to. She is suggesting the end of the specialized gender clinic model, where gender dysphoria is viewed as the root of all distress.

Without that broader approach to treatment, she says, directly addressing the thousands of youths distressed about their gender, “you are not getting the wider support you need in managing any mental health problems, arranging fertility preservation, getting help with any challenges relating to neurodiversity, or even getting counselling to work through questions and issues you may have.”

The Cass Review offers 32 recommendations, including exercising “extreme caution” when prescribing cross-sex hormones to those 16 and younger and having provisions for people considering detransition. Cass calls for long-term follow-up of those who have transitioned or sought care and a commitment to lifelong care for both those who transition and those who detransition. In contrast, Democrats have blocked attempts to pass detransition care bills and amendments that would require insurers to cover reconstructive surgeries, hormone treatments, and other assistance for detransitioners who want to live as their natal sex again, in whatever way is possible after permanent changes. Detransitioners are often left with nowhere to go to attend to their bodies or their minds — as the case used to be for trans people (and may be the case again).

Increasingly, some providers are so intimidated by the noise around this issue that they don’t want to attend to kids with gender issues at all. But these young people, as Cass says, “must have the same standards of care as everyone else.”

In America, the main problem with the issue of how best to treat kids with gender distress is that it has become intertwined with politics. Some who object to the affirmative model or question it fear the personal and professional repercussions of being cast as a bigot. Some who support the affirmative model in red states that are criminalizing the care fear being jailed. “There are few other areas of healthcare where professionals are so afraid to openly discuss their views, where people are vilified on social media, and where name-calling echoes the worst bullying behaviour,” Cass writes. “This must stop.”

As someone writing a book about the youth gender culture war, I couldn’t agree more. Polarization, the stifling of debate, and invective-flinging have left many families ill informed, making decisions in the dark and often based on fears of suicide that are unsupported by evidence. How can there truly be informed consent when there is so little unambiguous information, when there are more unknowns than knowns? And what do we do in the face of uncertainty? Argue and legislate, or gather data? It doesn’t help when our federal government contributes to the faux certainty, declaring that gender-affirming care is “suicide prevention” or “well-established medical practice” — arguments the Cass Review eviscerates.

For much of Europe, our government’s digging in on these treatments rather than investigating them more fully is just another way America has gone astray. Countries such as Finland and Sweden have analyzed the evidence and crafted more cautious guidelines, with psychological support as the baseline intervention.

We, too, need new, evidence-based guidelines. We need follow-up from all youth who transitioned, those who detransitioned, and those who desisted — meaning they stopped identifying as transgender without medically transitioning. We need to speak with multiple and competing stakeholders, and we need Democrats and Republicans to listen to those who’ve been helped and those who’ve been hurt; we need bipartisanship, not polarization. We need to push past politics and create an environment where robust scientific debate is not only tolerated but celebrated.

The National Health Service itself applauded Cass’s work, writing that it “will not just shape the future of health care in this country for children and young people experiencing gender distress but will be of major international importance and significance.” Let’s use the report to call for a ceasefire in the American gender culture war. We need our own Cass Review.

[kulay-ng-banaag]

A Gentle Reminder

One visits the other to rekindle the light. (Indonesia/Philippines) Warnings: -anxiety attacks (mild at best but the buildup is there) -smoking -politics (one side more explicitly than the other) Read on AO3 (registered users only)

[ Photo from Pinterest; have not yet traced back the photographer. ]

☼ ☼ ☼

The sound of running water cuts off as he turns the faucet knob. Glassware, ceramic dishes, and steel utensils clanked together in the sink bowl. The atmosphere was filled with the revving of motorbikes, the rusty booms of the azan signaling the hour of Isha, and the lucid voices that beamed from the newscast playing on the TV.

Once he finished scrubbing the table and the counters clean, he popped open a bottle of milk tea and flopped down on the sofa. Even with his tito Bikol’s cooking, he had never developed as strong a spice tolerance as he would have liked. Neither had he developed a language proficiency on par with the locals, despite the many letters exchanged and visits conducted. At least not in the same capacity as he had hundreds of years ago, but even the lingua francas of old were as mutable as clay, and the living things molded out of it.

Like all other things, nations changed over time. Philippines was no stranger to that truth.

All he had to do was keep tabs on the news from the other side of the screen, observing the inevitable winds of change. Once he foresaw the calm before the storm, he quickly scraped together in the wee hours enough necessities to suffice a week of travel. The closest to a formal notice he left behind was the blunt instructions he texted to a handful of staff handpicked by his gut feeling.

If anyone asks, I’m in Jakarta 👋🏽✈️

Nothing more.

He could fabricate a working visit out of nowhere, but it would almost certainly be followed up by a slew of questions regarding his rationales. His true intentions. His commitments to the burdens he never signed up for in the first place. People would express — as a request or not — their want for his presence, but rarely their need for it.

Not Indonesia. Not explicitly, at least. He gracefully wielded a commanding presence in public, but he was a closed book in the private sphere. A core of scorching hot earth buried deep that could explode with the right amount of pressure. Under the right conditions, a volcano could erupt violently. Once it did, there was no stopping its flow of destruction. The best Philippines could do was to be the ocean waves awaiting the incoming lava flow.

He listened intently to the stories broadcasted in front of him. It would be a mistake to call Philippines a tone-deaf airhead when he learned, painfully and repeatedly, to temper how his instincts would translate into his body language. In the comfort of his partner’s abode in the capital — at least for the time being — he was free to unravel the mask he wore in public.

The cracks began to form on the level-headed expression he maintained ever since he made landfall where he was not supposed to be. Through all the reports and commentaries as close to impartiality (or not) as they could get, he could see the wars of emotions taking place. Abstracted exhilaration on one end, ineffable grief on the other, and in between the buried pains had begun to fizzle and release steam. He would rather tune out the cries of despair and rage until they all dwindled together into empty static. With his arms crossed, his hands were already gripping tightly on his sleeves and he could already feel his heart beating as if it wanted to break out of his rib cage, away from the memories that were flooding in. Memories of pain and terror that he wished he could forget, but could not afford to.

What snapped him back to reality were the sounds of the front door clicking shut, followed by the taps of leather soles against the terracotta tiles that ascended to the upper floor. The silence of a lover in anguish was louder than the discordant harmonies of an agitated country.

He shut the TV off and made his way upstairs, down the hallway, and towards the open archway that led to the balcony. As he knocked his hand gently against the hardwood frame, a breeze wafted through the bamboo wind chimes above, almost as if Ibu Pertiwi wanted to ensure her guest was acknowledged.

Already, a lit kretek dangled between Indonesia’s fingers (one of which had an unmistakable ink stain at the tip). If Philippines had never cared about preserving his vocal cords, he would have succumbed to the vice as hard as Indonesia had. He only ever smoked when he was under extreme stress, and it surprised many at how infrequent that was.

The last time he lit one up for himself was two years ago, for the same reasons that Indonesia was going through now.

He sat down on the empty chair next to Indonesia’s, unfazed by the burning scent of bitter herbs and spices. Besides, the electric fan standing across them was whirring in their direction, out of respect for the other songbird that lived in the same space.

Philippines glanced up at the brightly-colored wicker cage hanging above on the opposite end of the balcony. He whistled a little tune, and the feathered resident within chirped back in reply.

“He’s healing up well.”

Philippines glanced back in surprise from hearing Indonesia speak up at last.

“I’ll be taking him to a rehab center in Kalimantan. That way, I’ll be around by the time they release him back to the wild.”

“That’s good to hear,” Philippines replied.

Indonesia pressed the end of the cigarette to his lips, then exhaled a puff of smoke. “I hope he doesn’t get caught again.”

“Oh.”

The soft smile on Philippines’ face faded from the realization. Often, Indonesia would foster rescues in critical conditions. At the time of the raid, the songbird was a sickly hatchling. Not only did it make a full recovery, but it chattered so much that the only bigger chatterbox was Philippines (who had pursed his lips like a child making tampo when Indonesia made the joke). Still, even with such a hopeful future ahead of it, there remained the risk of recapture, the violent return to a system that gambled on its ability to satisfy lofty aspirations, and swiftly disposed of those that failed to keep up.

Such a possibility seemed so far-fetched, yet the lack of certainty only served to tighten the suffocating grip of fear. Indonesia and Philippines knew that all too well. Centuries ago, when they had professed their love for one another, they were torn apart by conquerors from far away. Centuries later, when they had renewed their vows for one another, they were torn again by tyrants from within. Decades later, they broke free of those cages, only to return to a world they struggled to adapt to.

Now, they were birds at risk of recapture.

Minutes passed as they sat together in silence, struggling to keep themselves afloat lest they drowned from the millions of clashing voices that burned inside them both. Whatever the outcome, inevitable or not, Philippines would rather burn brightly in hell with Indonesia than abandon him, even if it meant he could at least march onward with most, if not all, pieces of himself intact. Maybe that was the problem, to begin with.

Yet, despite everything, the world continued its revolution around the sun. People continued to move forward with their lives, refusing to let anything or anyone take that away from them. The caged bird continued to sing, even in the face of an unambiguous future.

Indonesia exhaled a last puff of smoke before stubbing out the cigarette in the sand-filled ashtray. Philippines drew his knees up and scooted closer when he felt Indonesia lean onto him. He wrapped Indonesia’s arm around his and their hands slowly entwined together.

Philippines was the first to speak. “Abang?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember what you told me two years ago? When I was going through what you’re going through now?”

Indonesia remained silent as he recalled.

By that point in time, Philippines was as battered and bruised as anyone, and had been bleeding all over for too long for comfort. Indonesia would easily admit that Philippines was luckier for breaking free a good decade earlier than he would. What he disliked to admit was how it had made him anxious when Philippines would not respond for days, weeks even. That had been his way of learning about how the final results would be of such paramount importance that its reverberations would be felt across the world.

Indonesia’s sole regret was that he did not see Philippines sooner, let alone immediately. Indonesia knew better than anyone, however, that Philippines, for all his exuberance, was the type to push people away when he was upset. He did not even want to celebrate his birthday that year. The next time Indonesia heard from him was when he sent a message that he was arriving a week ahead of the scheduled state visit.

Philippines had remained steadfast against all odds in the crucial months building up to that pivotal moment. He had snuck away to help distribute meals to volunteers who had lightened the load of an immense burden off his shoulders to the best of their abilities. Ultimately, he was desperate to get an up-close-and-personal glimpse of the numbers that were coming in.

He excused himself to get away from the monsters that manifested before his eyes. The flowers of hope still bloomed in many parts, but a bramble of sharp thorns had been growing at a suffocatingly exponential rate that threatened to engulf the whole garden. Philippines felt it crawl up onto his skin and pierce itself onto his very being, causing him to stumble in the empty hallway. It was brightly lit, but it grew increasingly cold and dark. The walls had begun to close in, threatening to crush him if the thorns did not yet thoroughly impale through him first. He wanted to cry out in pain. He wanted to scream for help, but he found himself unable to speak. Or maybe no one could hear him.

Suddenly, he sensed the light ding of a bell and a mild buzz from his pocket. With shaky hands, he pulled out his cell phone and stared at the message that flashed on his screen. He took a step back and steadied himself against the wall before slumping down to the floor. He sat there in the comfortable silence of the empty hallway. He gasped for breath as he held down the outburst of emotions that had welled up in him. A smile radiated across his face, trembling lips notwithstanding, as he rubbed the back of his hand against the tears that had flowed down.

Philippines remembered that moment. He would always remember those words that had been the lifeline he failed to admit that he needed. He wanted Indonesia to remember them, too, forevermore.

Indonesia let out a sigh before finally responding, “I remember.” He was caught by surprise when he felt a hand cup his face to wipe the tear that had trickled down, the faint scent of jasmine emanating from it. He turned to gaze back at the warm gaze of his beloved pearl, remembering how he longed to see them again after years of confined stillness. How he longed to hear his phone ping and see something, anything, new from Philippines. How he had been sitting in drab and stifling formalities. How he had stepped out for a breath of fresh air and passed that onwards to breathe back life into someone from over 2,700 kilometers away. How he wanted Philippines to have something to hold on to, no matter how bleak and dark it got.

He wished he could be kinder to himself, and he was grateful that Philippines was there to remind him.

They gently pressed their foreheads together, and Philippines leaned closer to press his lips against Indonesia’s. He whispered those same words Indonesia had told him before wrapping him in a tight embrace.

I love you, no matter the results.

☼ ☼ ☼

TRANSLATIONS:

azan: The Muslim call to daily prayer (salat). The last one, Isha, is at nighttime. In this age of modernity, loudspeakers play the azan from the mosques. tito: Uncle (Tagalog). It’s not restricted to addressing a biological relative; very often it’s used to address older men like how we use “sir” in English. Ibu Pertiwi: lit. “Mother Earth” in this case; A historical national personification of Indonesia. In my honest opinion, using the local name slapped harder than merely writing “mother nature.” kretek: Indonesian cigarette blend of tobacco and cloves as the main ingredients. tampo: Tricky to translate into words — it’s ten times easier to demonstrate in person. In this context, think of a parent telling their child they should eat their ampalaya (bitter gourd) and the child makes this face >:T abang: Older brother (Bahasa Indonesia); same as how kuya (Tagalog) is used to refer to older peers/upperclassmen (as in like the senior-year senpais, not the elite trapos if you get lmao). Sometimes also a casual way of calling people “sir.”

MISCELLANEOUS:

Frankly, I’ve only ever been to East Java (mostly in Surabaya), so if I missed out on any observable nuances from Jakarta, that’s on me. I also wrote this on a whim of inspiration and spite. In minimized general, Philippine cuisine builds on a sour base with salty or sweet complements. However, spicy is king in Northern and Southern Luzon, and Southern Mindanao. One of my classmates is Bicolana, so eating spicy Indonesian food is a no-brainer for her. Fortunately, they have plenty of milk tea in stock in convenience stores in Indonesia…for those who need a little help in neutralizing the spicy taste HAHA! Someday, I’ll talk about my bayan OCs. Not today. I need more time ironing them out; time I simply do not have right now. For now, Bikol is he/they. Going back to my trip, I saw so many households with pet birds. I ended up learning about how the popularity of songbird competitions drives wildlife trafficking. 🥲 Speaking of which, I headcanon Indonesia as a wildlife officer. Half to restore balance to the universe for the cursed fact that he’s technically a cop; the other half because if Piri is the musically-gifted Disney Princess, then Indo is the forest friend Disney Princess. Kalimantan because that is where they’re constructing the new capital city of Nusantara because Jakarta is sinking among other reasons. Since the dirt children have to work closely with their governments – whether they like it or not (or choose to lol) – Indo would have to eventually move in, assuming it comes through (just saying because my home city was supposed to be the new capital but clearly that flopped lol). The bird rehab center is very real. It’s my first time learning of the place — thanks to me getting insecure about making it up. 😭 Specifically, Piri was at the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting (PPCRV) command center. It’s non-partisan but affiliated with the Catholic Church in the country; we have another watchdog entity without any religious affiliation – the National Citizens' Movement for Free Election (NAMFREL). The volunteers were encoding election returns in tallying the votes. One of my dearest friends was fast enough to sign up. I had wanted to draw a 612 comic right after Halalan 2022. Scrapped it altogether because I was horribly depressed, so to say. Then, during one of those many low points, I cooked up that plot bunny when Indo texts Piri those words (the last phrase of the fic). Still, I couldn’t get a comic together any sooner, even if it was a shorter one featuring that plot bunny, as I’ve since returned to university. Following the news and social media posts on Indonesia’s post-elections definitely brought back painful memories. And that plot bunny. Originally, I wanted a far shorter but no less cathartic drabble. Ended up going really ham. I wish I could do more. I hope this is enough.

[nicotinewrites17]

So I don't usually write posts or anything, but there's something that's been on my mind the last few weeks.

I'm a Deaf person, and I'm in a lot of spaces where being hearing is the norm. As a result, I feel like a lot of hearing people don't know how to help me communicate with them. I thought I'd share my tips (if people could reblog this to spread the word, that would be great).

1. Don't assume every Deaf person knows sign

This is not so much a rule to help hearing people communicate with Deaf people, but more of a heads-up. In my country, the government have not yet made it so sign language is taught in all schools, even though British Sign Language is a national language of the United Kingdom. Also some audiologists tell parents not to teach kids how to sign as that will limit their communication (this happened to me, and it's bullshit).

2. Look at us when you speak

I'm Autistic, so I'm not very good at this myself, but not looking at a Deaf person when you speak stops us from being able to lipread. Don't do that. Please.

3. Don't speak super slowly

When you're lipreading, you're having to focus on patterns and shapes that people make when they speak, and understand them too. This can be difficult, and speaking slowly can stretch out the words so much so that the words you're saying can be misunderstood. It's best to speak normally and if a Deaf person needs you to slow down, chances are they'll probably tell you. We're blunt like that.

4. Don't say nevermind

Because I don't know if its just me, but I like knowing what's going on in a conversation. Being told "never mind, I'll tell you later" when I can't understand someone sucks. It's even worse when I missed part of a joke and my anxiety tells me it's me they're laughing at.

5. Don't yell at us

We'll just yell back. We can't hear. By the time we're finished yelling, you won't be able to hear either.

6. Ask questions

If you want to know more about how to help Deaf people, send in an ask. I might make a part two if people want to read it

Deaf Love 🤟🏽

[nicklloydnow]

“You are taking over the rule of the world, and it makes you tremble with fear. For centuries to come, you will murder your friends and will hail as your masters the Führers of all peoples, proletarians and all the Russians. Day after day, week after week, decade after decade, you will praise one master after the other; and at the same time you will not hear the plaints of your babies, the misery of your adolescents, the longings of your men and women, or, if you hear them, you will call them bourgeois individualism. Through the centuries, you will shed blood where life should be protected, and will believe that you will achieve freedom with the help of the hangman; thus, you will find yourself again and again in the same morass. Through the centuries, you will follow the braggarts and will be deaf and blind when LIFE, YOUR LIFE, calls to you. For you are afraid of life, Little Man, deadly afraid. You will murder it, in the belief of doing it for the sake of "socialism," or "the state," or "national honor," or "the glory of God." There is one thing you don't know nor want, to know: That you yourself create all your misery, hour after hour, day after day; that you do not understand your children, that you break their spines before they have had a chance really to develop them; that you steal love; that you are avaricious and crazy for power; that you keep a dog in order also to be a "master." Through the centuries you will miss your way, until you and your like will die the mass death of the general social misery; until the awfulness of your existence will spark in you a first, weak glimmer of insight into yourself. Then, gradually and gropingly, you will learn to look for your friend, the man of love, work and knowledge, will learn to understand and respect him. Then you will begin to understand that the library is more important for your life than the prize-fight; a thoughtful walk in the woods better than parading; healing better than killing; healthy self-confidence better than national consciousness, and modesty better than patriotic and other yelling.

You think the goal justifies the means, even the vile means. You are wrong: The goal is in the path on which you arrive at it. Every step of today is your life of tomorrow. No great goal can be reached by vile means. That you have proven in every social revolution. The vileness or inhumanity of the path to the goal makes you vile or inhuman, and the goal unattainable.

"But how, then, shall I reach my goal of Christian love, of socialism, of the American constitution?" Your Christian love, your socialism, your American constitution lie in what you do every day, what you think every hour, in how you embrace your mate and how you experience your child, in how you look at your work as YOUR SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY, in how you avoid becoming like the suppressor of your life.

But you, Little Man, misuse the freedoms given you in the constitution in order to overthrow it, instead of making it take root in everyday life.

I saw you as a German refugee misuse Swedish hospitality. At that time, you were a would-be Führer of all the suppressed people on earth. You remember the Swedish institution of smörgasbord? Many foods and delicacies are spread out, and it is left to the guest what and how much he will take. To you, this institution was new and alien; you could not understand how one can trust human decency. You told me with malicious joy how you did not eat all day in order to gorge yourself on the free food in the evening.

"I have starved as a child," you say. I know, Little Man, for I have seen you starve, and I know what hunger is. But you don't know that you perpetuate the hunger of your children a million times when you steal smörgasbord, you would-be savior of all the hungry. There are certain things one just does not do: such as stealing silver spoons, or the woman, or smörgasbord in a hospitable home. After the German catastrophe, I found you half-starved in a park. You told me that the "Red Help" of your party had refused to help you because you could not show your party membership, having lost your party book. Your Führers of all the hungry distinguish red, white and black hungry people. But we know only one starving organism. This is the way you are in small matters.

And this is the way you are in big matters:

You set out to abolish the exploitation of the capitalist era and the disdain for human life, and to get recognition of your rights. For there was, a hundred years ago, exploitation and contempt for human life, and thanklessness. But there also was respect for great achievements, and loyalty for the giver of great things, and recognition of gifts. And what have you done, Little Man?

Wherever you enthroned your own little Führers, the exploitation of your strength is more acute than a hundred years ago, the disdain for your life is more brutal, and there is no recognition of your rights at all. And where you are still trying to enthrone your own Führers, every respect for achievement has disappeared and been replaced by stealing the fruits of the hard work done by your great friends. You don't know what recognition of a gift is, for you think you would no longer be a free American or Russian or Chinese, if you were to respect and recognize things. What you set out to destroy flourishes more vigorously than ever; and what you should safeguard and protect like your own life you have destroyed. Loyalty you consider "sentimentality" or a "petty-bourgeois habit," respect for achievement slavish boot-licking. You do not see that you are boot-licking where you should be irreverent and that you are ungrateful where you should be loyal.

You stand on your head and you believe yourself dancing into the realm of freedom. You will wake up from your nightmare, Little Man, finding yourself helplessly lying on the ground. For you steal where you are being given, and you give where you are being robbed. You confuse the right to free speech and to criticism with irresponsible talk and poor jokes. You want to criticize but you don't want to be criticized, and for this reason you get torn apart. You always want to attack without exposing yourself to attack. That's why you always shoot from ambush.

"Police! Police! Is his passport in order? Is he really a Doctor of Medicine? His name is not in WHO IS WHO, and the Medical Association fights him."

The police won't help here, Little Man. They can catch thieves and can regulate traffic, but they cannot get freedom for you. You have destroyed your freedom yourself, and go on destroying it, with an inexorable consistency. Before the first "World War," there were no passports in international travel; you could travel wherever you wished. The war for "freedom and peace" brought the passport controls, and they stuck to you like lice. When you wanted to travel some 300 kilometers in Europe, you first had to ask for permission in the consulates of some 10 different nations. And so it still is, years after the termination of the second war to end all wars. And so it will remain after the third and nth war to end all wars.” (p. 76 - 81)

[ellitx]

Chapter 16: Ludi Harpastum 1

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

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art belongs to: srr_yo

word count: 4.7k

           Mondstadt has always been known for its peaceful and calming breeze from the north. The scent of dandelions would waft in the air, inducing the townsfolk to lay back and enjoy their peaceful self-time in nature.

           It’s a characteristic of countless other natives with the exception of some organization that handles and maintains the peace in the nation. 

           For the past week, the plaza was bustling with people running in and out of the city and a few other travelers visiting. Quite the contrast with their well-known culture, though in a satisfactory standard. A strong scent of alcohol being brewed can be sniffed from miles away but Flora’s flower stand is still triumphant with all her bright and consummate garlands decorating all structures and statuettes of the Anemo Archon.

           Dancers were everywhere, colorful and bright stalls and candy floss carts could be seen, and the fountain spouted clear blue water that glinted in the sunlight. 

           Mondstadt was buzzing with excitement with the Ludi Harpastum Festival. 

           Children were running around, going from one booth to another with their fellow friends to get their desired rewards and men drank their hearts out with a hearty laugh as they cheered and clunk their mugs altogether before chugging their drinks down. 

           Paimon was having a lot of fun celebrating. Buying one food and then another before she could even finish the unfinished fried radish balls. She was drooling, admiring all the stalls displayed as her eyes glimmered in childlike excitement at how festive and wonderful this day was.

           Aether would have a lot of fun with Paimon walking from booth to booth, eating until their bellies ache, and playing against each other on who could out-best the other in a game of Pile ‘em Up if not for the urgency of looking for you.

           Not here. She’s not here…

           His face paled and everything went deaf. The loud clamor and bellows of stand owners were silence to him as well. 

           “..ther. Earth to Aether!”

           A small hand grabbed his scarf and tugged it, snapping him out of his floods of thoughts of your current whereabouts. 

           “Hey, are you alright? You’re looking a little pale there. Do you feel sick again?” 

           The young man stared blankly, before blinking and looking away at his companion. “I’m… fine.”

           Paimon was silent and still, her eyes never taking off of him with how he was sweating bullets and distracted for the past seven days. Ever since he’s been discharged by Barbara, he immediately went off to search for you the day Ludi Harpastum began. 

           Day and night, he looked for you. Looked for Venti. 

           And when he asked the townsfolk about you or the bard, the only response he got was a shake of their head or a shrug that they haven’t seen them. 

           Is looking for [Name] a good idea? 

           Is it worth the risk to look for her?

           More and more questions erupted in the little fairy’s head, becoming even more anxious at the thought of Aether being wounded and attacked by the bard ever since that incident occurred.

           Their travel would be nothing if he died in the hands of the wind of god. He still hasn’t found his sister yet and they have little to no clue of where she is. If he dies, Paimon will…

           Paimon will—

           “Aether, why don’t we just let the Knights of Favonius handle this?”

           The said male looked up at his companion with hazy eyes before scoffing, something she had already grown accustomed to with how they often berate.  

           “I would if I could. But I chose not to.”

           It took her by surprise, but she should’ve expected this is how he’ll react. After all, Aether is strong-willed and a tenacious person, but perhaps he’s overstepping his bounds with his decision.

           “But…” 

           “Don’t worry. I trust them. I really do.”

           His gaze faltered back to the sky, the dim clouds beginning to bury the moonlight. 

           “What time is it?” 

           Looking back to the starry night horizon, it’s been hours since they’ve been exploring Mondstadt City to search for you and Venti. To say the least that Aether is determined to look for you, it would prove to be difficult for Paimon alone to drop this quest and just move on with their day to enjoy Ludi Harpastum without any worries. 

           Yet, she wonders how far will Aether search for you. After Ludi Harpastum ends? Or a week after that? It would be futile and hopeless to proceed onward without solid tracks on where you are… But if ever the time comes things will not end up so good, then Paimon has to intervene and force her companion to stop.

           Sighing, she fiddled with her stick and answered his question. 

           “It’s past 8 pm. We should head back to the Favonius Headquarters and get some rest.” 

           It’s conspicuous how the traveler has been so drained the past seven days. Although he admits that he had fun celebrating this annual event with the little fairy, the heaviness weighing on his shoulders that you’re with the bard still bothers him. 

           It’s not his business to meddle with your affairs, but ever since he had gained significant information from the talk with Dr. Edith and Barbara, he had a feeling something was not right with Venti.

           Especially, what you are to the Anemo Archon.

           One more day… Just one more…

  —

             “Will you close your eyes for a bit?”

           Venti’s voice reverberated behind you, his hands still wrapped around your waist whereas you stopped twining the garland you have in your hand. You eyed him from the corner of your eyes and saw a rather peculiar expression he was wearing. 

           Maybe it’s better to not question any further and so you heed his request and closed your eyes slowly. There was a sudden emptiness behind you and you presumed Venti had to move somewhere else but in less than a second you felt something warm pressing onto your temple.

           Although he told you to close your eyes, you opened your right eye to take a peek and saw him smiling at you full of warmth, tenderness, and love. Your heart raced, much faster than before and it’s difficult for you to look at him with straight eyes when he’s gazing at you with genuine kindness and love.

           Yet, something felt odd after that kiss. You blinked and looked around the lair. Something was off with your perception and at the same time, it’s nothing… It’s hard to point out what it is but maybe it’s the low energy that’s taking a toll on you.

           After all, you’ve been spending so much time with Venti and Dvalin, taking care of the lair to return back to its rightful glory and beauty after the war, as well as having to feed the dragon. Dvalin sure has one big stomach and all the apples you’ve given to him weren’t enough.

           Being lightheaded after waking up for who knows how long now has been your cognitive condition and you’re thankful Venti was the one who was looking after you while you were in deep slumber.

           “What was that for…?”

           “Just a little kiss mark. Don’t worry too much about it, [Name].”

           When he spoke, you could feel his warm breath against your face, and it’s just now you realized how close you two are. He grabbed your hand delicately and kissed the fingertips one at a time while you watched with total calm and comfort taking over your body, snuggling closer into the crook of his neck.

           Venti carded his fingers through your hair and made sure he won’t tear or damage the flower garland he made specifically for you. Today’s the eighth day of Ludi Harpastum being celebrated in Mondstadt and the bard has been patiently waiting for this day to arrive.

           Waiting was torturous, at the same time he can’t risk going ahead without proper plans. He’s been so excited he’d finally be able to celebrate a proper event with his lover and of course this annual event wherein you’d discover how much the wind nation has changed over the past millennia. 

           Venti’s sure you’d love it and so he hoisted you up carefully with ease and took your hand, dashing to where the main entrance to the lair was.

           “Let’s go to Mondstadt and celebrate the festival!”

           His radiant voice reminded you of the time he brought you to the garden back in Old Mondstadt. A clarity of vision showed you his relief at finding you at the manor, and you pictured Venti and Barbatos consoling you in those times of difficulties when your father still reigned the nation, promising that once the war is over they’ll hold a big celebration. 

           You were free now. You can go away together with Venti to a place where no one knows you, where you aren’t restrained, and live a happy life. 

           A hearty giggle lifted the air, reaching the bard’s ears as he listened to the song of grace and warmth— the warmth that he loved so much, the grace of your hand he can never forget every time he held you and the smile he promised to never let it falter.

           From there, he wished among the sea of dandelions for time to stop where he could be with you.

  —

             “Woah, I never knew this city would be bustling…”

           As the clamors of the sellers and Mondstadtians celebrate Ludi Harpastum, the flock doesn’t cease its hearty laughter and promotion of their own stalls by inviting visitors and offering them special items. 

           Paper windmills and balloons were decorated in all houses from top to bottom, even the giant windmills itself residing in the city were intricately decorated with banners of cecilias and windwheel asters. 

           You were beyond overwhelmed. Right as you stepped foot at the gate entrance, a young girl, who he knew very well was little Flora, welcomed you with a big smile and offered you a flower garland.

           “Happy Ludi Harpastum!” 

           You hid behind Venti, still wary and cautious when interacting with people outside the tower. You were like a newborn rabbit, hiding from the dangers of the world, and although this has always been your wish to see the outside world and its beauty, the disruptive difference and changes to the current Mondstadt really surprised you.

           Venti chuckled when you were silent, unsure of what to say. And so to assist his dear, he placed his hand over your lower back to ease you and took the small garland from Flora on your behalf.

           “It’s a tradition for Mondstadters to greet everyone Ludi Harpastum.” He spoke while he lifted your right hand, carefully settling the floral bracelet on your wrist.

           Putting your wariness aside, you didn’t want to be rude and leave the little girl hanging, so you uttered, “Thank you for the beautiful ornament. And… happy Ludi Harpastum to you as well.”

           In that bashful smile of yours, the little girl was so giddy and upbeat. She smiled widely, her dimples showing and her eyes glittering with excitement before nodding and waving at you.

           “May the Anemo Archon guide you, pretty lady! Please come visit our stall if you have the time!”

           It’s soothing and refreshing to see everyone here smiling and enjoying their life along with the gentle breeze Mondstadt is known for. No more war, no more deaths, no more rebellion.

           Everything here is peaceful and warm just as how you always longed for. 

           You moved your middle finger, grazing the back of Venti’s hand. He jumped for an instance, yet kept his composure, the same finger grazing his hand again, and he moved his index. 

           Your fingers touched, stayed touching for a few seconds, and both kept walking forwards, each step taking them closer to the heart of the city.

           Venti twitched his pinky, tickling yours, extending it outwards as he brushed your pinky. The tip of his finger met yours, and pulled away then doing it again as a faint giggle echoed from you. You curved your pinky inwards, seizing him and keeping him there.

           You began to walk slower with Venti matching you. Step, and a step, and another step were taken together, a few bumps happened, and two more fingers ended up touching. 

           The sounds of far-off children and the chiming of the wind chime singing filled the silence they had created, the back of their hands touching long enough for it to no longer be considered a bump.

           As your hand barely moved, not even by a noticeable distance, Venti took your hand with his. He slotted his fingers with yours, pressing down and evoking a firm and gentle and loving hold on his partner. With the same desire, you couldn’t resist for long and clamped down on him with as much love.

           You walked together hand in hand, stretching out the walk by minutes, shortening the strides and basking in the jovial day of Mondstadt.

           “That reminds me, I wonder who the current Anemo archon is and how long I’ve been asleep…”

           You muttered to yourself.

              “The important thing to remember is he’s a kind-hearted soul. He saved his people many times.” The bard chuckled once again and pulled you close to him and laced your fingers with his to make sure you wouldn’t wander off and get lost along the crowds.

           “I’ve already lost count of how many years it has been…” He answered. “I have only been able to speak to a few people at first though after the war ended. I mostly stayed at Old Mondstadt to watch over you and wait for you to wake up, but now that it's over, we've started to interact with the citizens."

           “I’m sorry I kept you waiting...” 

           Venti’s heart tightened hearing your soft and apologetic voice.

           “Don’t be. I’m just happy to see you open your eyes again and be with me. As long as I’m with you, I’m already satisfied with my life,”

           Venti looked down, suppressing the trembling of his heart by forcing a smile. You felt his grip on your hand went firm, fear was what you sensed. He was scared to let you go, and if he does you might never return.

           “But I’m still worried about what the future holds. How many are going to come or leave?"

           A question he asked to no one. The years of isolation he had felt all throughout his life, but he wasn’t lonely. He’s been with you the entire time. He won’t expect any replies from you because he knows you’d be speechless and hesitant about what you might say. 

           You know you'd be a mess speaking so much, so you reciprocated his hold and moved closer to him until your arms were brushing together with his.

           "I'm afraid that I may not be able to protect you anymore..." You could feel the pain in his voice and the worry in his eyes.

           “No. You're strong, and besides, I think I'll have you to rely on." You kissed him softly right on the lips before he pulled back, his cheeks slightly flushed.

           “I really am happy to see you awake again,"

           “Me too.”

           You fixed Venti’s hat and skipped over until you were facing him in front.

           “How about we explore this cultivated city together?” 

           He wished he had a Kamera with him. This scene is so perfect and gorgeous with the petals of flowers dancing with the breeze in the background as your hair gently swayed.

           “Like a date?”

           “Silly,” you grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. “We’re already on a date.”

           “Well, where do you want to go?” He asked with a small stutter, the red tint of blush on his cheeks still lingered which you find really cute and plan to tease him later on.

           You had no clue what could be fun or interesting here, but you didn't want to offend him by not being a good guest. So instead of saying anything you just smiled at him.

           “Well, I’m kind of peckish…” 

           You laughed awkwardly. Dear archons, you hoped your stomach won’t rumble so loudly and that would be so embarrassing. 

           “Well, what are you waiting for?” Venti leaned closer, turning his head slightly while he gazed at you deeply.

           “The meal is already in front of you.” The bard winked and he grunted when you slapped his shoulder, your face flushed red from his dirty invitation.

           “Venti!” 

           He chuckled before lightly kissing your cheek affectionately. And good thing you were distracted from that kiss as he brought you to a diner and found a seat with a nice view. 

           The balcony was the perfect place. Windy, but warm enough for it not to be freezing. Venti left you for a moment so he could take his orders and it was not too long before he returned with two drinks in his hands. You thanked him and took your drink from him gratefully with a smile.

           Everything here is just so perfect. It’s how you envisioned the new Mondstadt. A land of freedom and wind.

           A land that is full of lilting voices brought to the seeds of dandelion. You had your head on his shoulder while he held your hand between his own.

           “I bought you a Moon Pie. It’s really good I assure you.”

           You glanced at him smiling innocently. Venti returned the smile before taking a sip of his drink. It didn't taste bad. It was sweet and refreshing. The aftertaste was divine, ending with the rich cereal aroma.

           You looked down at the food to avoid his gaze and stared at it instead. Even though you had been hungry ever since you woke up this morning, all you could think about was how much you wanted to know about the current status of Mondstadt and general knowledge about this festival.

           "So… how was Mondstadt after the war?" You asked in hopes that he would talk to distract himself from your silence.

           Venti snorted. "Everyone is given freedom and they are off on their own adventure." He glanced at the crowd below the balcony who were running and celebrating the happy feast with their friends and family.

           "Everyone here lives happily, smiling brightly and enjoying the gentle breeze of the nation. Every time Ludi Harpastum arrives, the citizens often compete with each other to gain the title of Champion of Ludi Harpastum." Venti informed you, looking back towards the crowds, but not really seeing them. 

           "It used to be more of a tournament than anything else with a side of wine and games but I prefer this new festival where everyone can just be themselves and enjoy the event."

           You nodded, listening intently as he explained it to you. 

           “Speaking of champion,” Venti put his glass down and rested his cheek over his fist. He took the spoon from your plate and scooped some of the Moon Pie then drifted the spoon over to you. You didn’t think any further as you leaned in and accepted his offer to feed you. 

           “A vow must be fulfilled, and it is my motive to seize the name which you shall be thrilled.” He eyed you in hopes you knew what he was implying. 

           And as ever, you understood what he meant with no problem with his riddles and poetries. You huffed, chewing on the delicious meaty pie. 

           “If you become the champion.” You emphasized.

           Venti pumped his fist, all fired up and excited to take all the various games and be the winner of all. 

           “I can do it! I won’t let that elf girl beat me as she did at the other games.”

           The memory of a certain elf magician beating him several times was still fresh in his mind. How can he lose to her?! He was far too old than her and had more knowledge about the world than her. 

           Well, now that she’s too busy traveling in faraway lands, he’s assured that woman won’t interfere with his day when he can finally show off his talents to you.

           He smiled wide and continued eating and talking about how he was going to win, and how you would probably reward him as his lover when he did so.

           Your cheeks felt warm with embarrassment at Venti’s enthusiasm and yet it was so contagious. Continuing to eat your meal, you muttered. “I look forward to seeing you be the champion, mister bard.”

           His face lit up and he gave a happy nod, continuing to talk about his plans to win all the games. 

           Taking another bite, you stopped halfway as you felt something was rubbing against your leg.

           “Meow~”

           You looked down and saw the cat walking in circles towards you. Its tail curled over your leg as it nuzzled its cheek on you.

           “Aw, what are you doing there, kitty?” You asked the cat while it stared up at you with a curious expression. “Oh, you mean this?”

           You looked over to your Moon Pie and the cat mewled. The stray animal turned around and jumped onto you as it sat on your lap, the white fur around its body making it look like a cloud.

           “Ah—choo—!”

           Venti sneezed, his nose itching and acting up. 

           “My apologies, I have been exposed to cat dander for too long.” He put his hand up to his face, wiping it as he tried to calm his allergies.

           You checked on your table to see if there were any tissues left, and finding enough, you wiped Venti’s nose and softly laughed at his runny nose. 

           That’s a new side of him to see.

           “You remind me so much of Barbatos with the way you sneezed.” You remarked, dabbing his nose lightly and putting it aside somewhere on the table far from your plate.

           Venti blinked and tilted his head to the side. “Do I?”

           Even the way he leaned his head was so adorable!

           You hummed in affirmation and put down the cat on the floor. You didn’t want to torture him if you keep the cat close. That would be so horrible of you to do that.

           “But I didn’t know you’re allergic to them.” 

           As far as you remember, Venti was used to being surrounded by animals whenever he sings, and even cats are attracted to his charming voice. He would’ve had a sneezing fit during his performance if all those cats were disturbing his music back then.

           “My cat allergy developed over the years. And even just thinking about it is already making me— achoo!” 

           He grabbed his nose again but this time, with his hand. And when he did, he made such an adorable gesture! You giggled at his reaction and smiled at him.

           “I guess that explains why only slimes and foxes are allured to your music?”

           Venti groaned and rested his head over to your shoulder, whining and sniffing about his unpleasant allergy situation.

           “[Name], feed me, please. I might die from my allergy if you don’t!”

           “Alright, alright, I have some tissues here. Come on, let me help you.” You said, petting the top of his head as you looked at his hand.

           “Wait, wait. Don’t touch my hands! They itch now, they—achoo!” He covered his face with both his arms.

           “I won't touch anything dangerous, okay? Just let me take care of you first before I’ll feed you.”

           You gently lifted Venti’s face, cupping his cheek as you dabbed his nose with gentle taps of the tissue, making sure it won’t irritate the skin area on his nose lest it’ll leave a burning mark.

           Once you took care of Venti, you offered him a tissue to blow his nose and took the spoon to feed him with the Moon Pie.

           “Mm, mmm. [Name], yu dob now hawb mash ay lab yu.” Venti opened his mouth, his eyes closed while you spoon-fed him.

           The food was great but his energy was even better, making you smile as you feed him more of the Moon Pie.

  —

             “Aaand, we have a winner!! Breaking the record of 112 cm, this lad here has set the new record of 120cm of Pile ‘Em Up!”

           The crowd cheered whilst the participants sighed in defeat. Venti smirked, throwing an apple in the air before taking a bite of it. 

           He searched for you over the crowd and you were in awe at the height of the stack of ingredients he used. The bard was complacent, boosting his confidence seeing his lover be amazed at his work. 

           “Did you see that? She was amazed by my work!”

           He grinned wide, waving his arms to the crowd and taking a sip of his ale. Despite missing seven days of the festival, he managed to beat every single game prepared by the citizens and for the Pile ‘Em Up challenge, he tried to make the tallest tower of ingredients he could.

           “You could’ve made that tower higher if you used those cheeses.” You remarked, walking towards him with a radiating smile he adored so much. 

           “Ugh, I’m not a big fan of cheese.” 

           You stifled your giggling behind your hand, his resentment towards the dairy product was exhibited.

           “So out of 7 games you’ve won 4 of those. Pretty amazing if you ask me.” You hummed, walking along with him in the streets of Mondstadt to find stalls with games to claim his title of Champion of Ludi Harpastum. 

           “Not exactly seven but I need to go beyond that for me to win.”

           “You’re really eager in getting that title,” 

           Venti huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course I do! It’s been a long time since I got to see a maiden as pretty as you throwing the Ludi Harpastum ball for the final event.”

           He gave you a wink, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

           “You are quite the charmer, mister bard.”

           You couldn’t help but smirk at his handsome face and charming eyes. “I don’t know how you did it but you managed to win most of the games. You have a knack for these.”

           Both of you stopped at one of the biggest stalls situated in the plaza. Travelers and adventurers from Adventurer’s Guild were gathered here whilst the host of the event announced there are only a few slots left before the main event starts.

           It was a gliding challenge. Whoever claims all the flowers and finishes them faster will be the winner. As simple as that but dangerous since it’s an aerial activity.

           “Are you going to join there, Venti?”

           Just as he was about to reply to you, a familiar blonde figure and his little companion were in line, just right behind you.

           Venti shut his lips and paled. Even if the Celestia has alleged this is purely coincidence, that coincidence is a devastating one. He didn’t want to ruin this fun because of those two. 

           Indignant eyes in the vulnerable are a sign of stress that should never have come their way. Once it is drawn out, they can express sadness and recover, perhaps in time become strong enough to be a protector and rise to trusted positions reserved for psychologically mature protectors.

           It was painted with harsh and incensed fury. It may be invincible to the eyes of the public but to you, it was faint. You can feel the tension in him.

           “Venti?” You called out to him.

           The said male snapped out of his thought and looked at you. You were worried. Your brows creased and your gorgeous [eye color] eyes were tinted with concern. He really needs to avoid making you worry lest he drags you into his personal affairs.

           “What’s wrong?” You asked again.

           “Nothing… I just remembered I can’t participate. I don’t have my gliding license with me.”

           He lied. 

           He doesn’t want to go there. He can't even look at the blonde boy. He's been avoiding him since that incident. He couldn't even look at his little companion.

           It was enough for his head to boil. A wave of anger curling hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn him from the inside out.

           “Why don’t we look for a different game?”

           He suggested, immediately grabbing your hand and marching off away from the venue. As much as possible, he doesn’t want Aether and Paimon to cross paths with you. 

           If that happens, his dream and future with you will be ruined. A butterfly effect he desperately wished wouldn't occur.

taglist: @trust-the-oxygen @so-uncute​

fuck you hyv ive been waiting for two years and sumeru is already here, scaramouche was already dripped market and up till now there's still no ludi harpastum. im tired of waiting im gonna make my own ludi harpastum hmph. yknow ive had my hopes up when the leakers mentioned 3.1 will have a mond festival and i was badly hoping for ludi harpastum but look at that making myself look like a clown when it's weinlesefest

anywho im finally back. it's been a year since ive updated and i honestly really want to continue writing but bcs of the lack of lore for this festival, i had to put it in a hiatus since i want it to be accurate as possible to the canon. worry not tho, ive prepared some of the chapters already for smooth updates. and speaking of lore, ive made changes in "Past Memoir" and "Historiae" chapters huehue go on and check those if you wish ;>

[bandofchimeras]

tab eclecticism

started tackling the 7 nation army - aka the 7 window 500 TabPocalypse that is my laptop atm. like yeah, i could close them all and start fresh. But its been fun going through them. And productive? So far i've updated next weeks schedule, found out a hardcore show i was gonna go to is sold out, completed two microdonations & bookmarked 3 other fundraisers for Palestinian families & trans refugee family for when I have $, made a discord event to start that free Oklahoma School for the Deaf class, watched a genuinely moving short film by the Madrid band Boikot about the International Brigades and Francoist war, on the theme "people may die, but you cannot kill an idea" and read a few articles on Tyre Nichols case and the importance of mutual aid. i even drafted an email to a school principal asking what their plan was to address students' w Long Covid's accommodation needs. also added 4 new books to my Thriftbooks wishlist that functions as a "to-read" list including this fascinating chronicle of the Hirschfield Institute and modern queer culture. in conclusion, the ADHD scatterbrain does not have to be a shameful thing. I don't have a themed blog or substack to promote but that's a fairly productive evening. and now, if you want to experience any of these links with me you can lol.

[eventuallyaugust]

hyunseol (txt) profile and facts (updated!)

hyunseol (휸설) is south korean soloist and a member of the six-member group txt under hybe (formerly big hit entertainment). she debuted solo in --- 2022 with the mini album “hyacinth avenue”.

stage name: seol (설)

birth name: oh hyunseol (오휸설)

english name: azrael oh (previous: reese oh)

position: —

face claim: oh haewon (nmixx)

birthday: january 3, 1999

zodiac sign: capricorn

chinese zodiac: hare/rabbit

height: 180.34 cm (5’11″)

weight: 67 kg (148 lbs)

blood type: o+

mbti type: istp-t (her previous result was estp)

representative emoticon: 🐨

nationality: korean

instagram: soyseol

fandom name: seolmate

spotify playlist: txt seolace

hyunseol 's facts:

– hyunseol was born in incheon, south korea but moved to the us when she was four and moved back to seoul, south korea when she was thirteen.

– family: parents, uncle, two aunts, grandparents, cousins, niece

– she confirmed that she is a younger cousin of exo's oh sehun. (vlive)

– she attended incheon nonhyeon high school.

– hyunseol was the 1st member to be revealed on january 10, 2019.

– her representative animal is owl. (questioning film)

– her representative flower is purple hyacinth. (questioning film)

– at the end of her question film, the morse code translates to “future”.

– she can speak korean, english, japanese, and spanish. she also said that she is trying to learn other languages like french. (vlive)

– her introduction video surpassed 1 million views within the first 24 hours, along with her member yeonjun.

– she auditioned in big hit because her friends double dared her to do it and got accepted several weeks after. (vlive)

– her training period is 4 years and a half.

– she is the oldest of the group, older than yeonjun by a few months.

– her favorite fruits are bananas, avocados, and oranges.

– she has a fanbase ever since her reveal.

– her fandom name is "seolmates".

– on her birthdays, she sang songs as a gift to moas and her fans. songs list: 2020 - magic!'s 'rude'; 2021 - 5sos's 'ghost of you'; 2022 - d.o.'s 'rose (eng ver)'; 2023 - ricky montgomery's 'mr. loverman'

– hyunseol says she doesn’t have a particular hobby, but according to beomgyu, she is often seen crocheting and doodling in the dorm.

– she is a former jyp entertainment trainee.

– her past time is writing lyrics and solving mind games. (spotify k-pop quiz)

– hyunseol excels at games, especially video games. (talk x today ep.1)

–her favorite number is 8. she talks about how she always get lucky with that number. she also said that's her number she chose to put in her track team shirt. (talk x today ep.2)

– hyunseol has been a great observant of people's emotions and body languages, according to her members. (talk x today ep.1) 

– hyunseol has a nickname given by members: “ace” because the ace of different cards are always seen in her room. (talk x today ep.3) 

– hyunseol used to play for a track team in high school and won several competitions. (talk x today ep.3) 

— hyunseol said that she was popular in her previous school and received so many confession and love letters she bough another locker for her admirers to fill, instead of the locker she's using for studying. (vlive)

– according to yeonjun, hyunseol is the reason that the production added the morse code in crown's intro. (vlive)

– she said that she decided to leave her position blank because it's best to keep moas on the edge of their seats and experiment with music. (vlive)

– according to hyunseol, yeonjun is more of a fake maknae than she is despite being older than him.

– hyunseol said she learned the sign language because of her deaf grandmother. (fansign 150319)  

– according to huening kai, hyunseol often accompanies him whenever he wants to buy plushies. (fansign 150319) 

- she is afraid of the heights (fansign 150319)

– hyunseol shared that she always give flowers to everyone in her school, no matter who they are in valentines day. (talk x today ep.2) 

– she learned how to speak spanish due her aunt's spanish partner. (vlive)

– she is often called a walking calculator in her previous school. (idol room) 

– according to yeonjun, she has a high alcohol tolerance and will still be sober even there are already several bottles that have been consumed. (vlive) 

– she got interested in cooking and became the designated cook in the dorm. she also said that if she wasn't an idol, she would be a chef. (spotify k-pop quiz)

- she officially changed her name from reese oh to azrael oh since the previous name is registered in the us and she wants to change it for a fresh start. (idol room)

– her favorite colors are sage green, pink, beige (fansign  150319), and sea blue. (spotify k-pop quiz) 

– she was a special mc in music bank with lee chaemin.

– she has a total of 9 tattoos over the years; an ace of clubs on the side of her index finger on her left hand, a small lotus flower on her back between her shoulders, an infinity symbol at the back of her left ear, a compass on her left wrist, a paper crane on her forearm, a heartbeat on her collarbone, a crown below her belly button, arm bands on her right bicep, and an orion constellation on her left hip (ig live, 2024)

– she got involved in dating rumours with aespa's karina and lesserafim's yunjin in which none of them has been confirmed. she also got involved in a dating rumor with viviz' umji and bighit immediately addressed the rumor as false.

– hyunseol's ideal type: she says her ideal type is someone who loves her as much as she loves them, doesn't afraid to speak their mind, and someone will treat her right. (vlive) 

show more hyunseol fun facts…

[stromuprisahat]

Expectations were low, but Oh My God!

I intended to write down the dialogues that don't make much sense, but then I figured it's no use to copy/paste all the subtitles. There's rarely anything that isn't plain stupid. The Witcher: Blood Origins is amalgam of badly used tropes I've seen thousand times before. 

The Elves

Forget the beautiful, graceful humanoids with equally stunning culture. The elves here are dirty, rude and equally pathetic as humans. The only difference is pointy ears. Their architecture is massive and angular, their blades, proverbial elven blades, often look like a total amateur with zero skill forged them out of scraps.

Elves are also morally corrupt. Colonization is a huge issue we won’t learn much about, except they’re just as bad as humans will become in future. Given the context the point seems to be they had it coming... in case you were starting to feel for their race in present time.

REPRESENTATION!!!

Recently I’ve read a post about how little representation is in “source” material. Shocking, isn’t it? Slavic fantasy, heavily inspired by mediaeval Poland doesn’t include POCs (read: Blacks and East-Asians, because I’ve never seen anyone complaining about lack of Native Americans... in pseudoEurope...). The show creators obviously decided to fix that by ticking off the proper boxes.

You’ve got Black elves, East-Asian, gay gay, chubby deaf-mute... well, at least this time the different colours came from distinct nations. If only the stereotypes were avoided.

Tropes and patterns

Soft, slightly feminine gay, gullible disabled, wise older East-Asian mentor,  washed out hippie healer, abused genius, forbidden love between protector and his charge, soldier who was done killing untill the enemy wiped out his home, redemption = sacrifice = suicide, two characters arguing about who’s gonna do the sacrificing only for the one, who “lost” to go behind the other one’s back and do it...

... sprinkle some well-known terms and names: chaotic power, Xin'trea, Eredin, Avallac’h... aaand done! Brand new tale from a widely-loved universe is done!

Perhaps try writing less of what could people find cool, and focus on a good story.

Rah, rah-ah-ah-ah!

Four episodes don’t offer much space to develop many characters. Seven good guys, at least four antagonists... personalities, interactions, needless romance... it’s interesting how much can actors express in only so many interactions.

Zacaré and Brother Death are believable. 

Meldof and Gwen's story's tragic, but rather sweet in a way. (Tho they could’ve refrained from that rape aspect.)

Éile and Fjall, flat and boring. One of the unsurprising, disappointing turns of events. Zero chemistry. Made to fuck with the sole purpose of making a baby to artificially connect them to Ciri, one of the MCs in the “original” series.

The WITCHER: Blood Origin

You're telling me that the first version of a witcher was a badass elf? This is really gonna piss Geralt off.

One would hope for something different, after all this fuss, but no. First “witcher" is just another butch guy, only with pointy ears.

How do we know the turning potion's ew? It's black!

How do we know he's really WITCHER 1.0? Yellow eyes!

How do we know he’s not quite himself? Black eyes and veins on his face!

I'm sure this improvised ritual had the same effects as carefully honed procedure sorcerers spent decades perfecting...

Fuck the Coup, free The People!

The story starts with a coup, killing off three monarchs with their bodyguards. Corrupt, elitist leadership’s gone, the new rulers- army, magicians and overlooked princess- plan to invade new worlds to gain resources their world’s lacking. Sounds like a decent idea? Our heroes would disagree. The empress needs to be destroyed, because people suffer.

You changed nothing. You're just another boot looking for more necks.

... reproaches the great Éile new empress. When was she supposed to do that? In a week? Change takes time and resources, Merwyn had none. Am I supposed to cheer, because now it's faceless "people" in charge? Do they have knowledge to rule? The skill? Anything? Or are they expected to wing it? Rule isn't about putting new people to the wheel and hope it will all work out. Talk about freedom won't feed you, run trade, economy, agriculture etc..

The worst thing's we know the Empire is crumbling. We know there's no food to redistribute, even the leadership has barely anything and you can't let the head starve if you want to fix anything. Merwyn's unforgivable sin was being born into the ruling class.

- You've no idea what elfkind even is. You're just another spoiled princess.

~ I am Empress!

- You are a child ~given~ the reins of a warhorse. You don't speak for elfkind.

... the writers try to gaslight us. We’re introduced clever, idealistic, inquisitive princess, who wants to help her people. When she’s confronted with reality, she tries to learn more. She goes from her family’s pawn to schemer, who makes allies and plans, frees herself from role of figurehead and reminds others the most important task is to feed their people. That’s a character I’d love to watch. Not a dumb singer, who rallies a mob, destroys government, helps to cause cataclysm and fucks off to countryside.

The Story of the Seven

What did those fame-deserving Seven achieve? Did they solve famine? Did they end war? Did they offer better way to rule? No, no and no.

But they (unintentionally) caused the Conjunction, brought the monsters and humans into weak, starving, disorganized society. The rightfully forgotten Seven effectively crippled their own race and destroyed any chance for defense they might have had.

I don’t know who is Jaskier’s song about, but it’s not about these Seven.