#a bunch of very masculine looking guys participating at this ridiculous thing

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Over a 100???? It was just the guy in the photo a couple days ago djsjdjks

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter Three: Not Dipper

A big ol thank you to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

He’s so tall and handsome as hell; he’s so bad but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins.- Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

Warmth.

Warmth and safety.

Those were the first things Mabel noticed when she woke up for those few brief seconds, the first things she could recall feeling. She was too tired to open her eyes, and her head was freaking killing her, but there was warmth seeping into her skin like melted butter into bread, and something smelled remarkably good.

It wasn’t a familiar smell, not by any means, but she found she liked it quite a lot. She turned her face towards the warm, smooth fabric the scent was coming from, nuzzling it happily with a small smile.

It didn’t help her killer headache, of course, but her bed or whatever it was, it smelled goooooood, and she was all for it.

She felt as if nothing could touch her, there in that little bubble of delicious-smelling warmth, and she wondered idly if Dipper was around, because she only ever felt so happy and safe when she was with him.

When had she seen him last, again? Mabel couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, really.

Oh well. Whatever. She was warm. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was happy. She smiled again, just a little bit, as her thoughts faded when she lost consciousness again.

She would not be so content when she woke the second time.

———————————————————————

There was a throbbing in her skull. An intense kind, particularly in her temples and behind her eyes. It hurt worse when she opened her eyes, and it took them several rapid blinks to adjust to lights that were actually quite dim, but with her concussion headache, they seemed ridiculously bright against the blue ceiling.

“Yeesh,” she muttered, sitting up on the… was that a chaise? Yup, okay, that was definitely a chaise. She’d never even seen one in person; those things were for fancy people. Mabel had always been many things, but fancy most certainly wasn’t one of them.

Anyway, she was sitting up on the super-duper fancy chaise, her hands supporting her. “My head, what in the…” Dammit, her wrists and arms hurt, too, those were, ugh, were those rope marks? They sure looked like rope marks.

There was a sound nearby when she spoke loud enough to be heard, but Mabel’s head was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear much of anything. She massaged the skin on her wrists, trying to get the soreness to dissipate. It didn’t.

And then the whole thing came rushing back.

Shit. Was she married to the gnomes now? Was that gonna be her life? No, no, it was fine, gnome marriage wasn’t legally binding, she didn’t think, and even if it was, it wasn’t legal for somebody to marry a whole bunch of people at once, and it definitely wasn’t legal for that somebody to be an unwilling participant. Therefore, any marriage contracts they may or may not have drawn up were null and void, legally speaking. Which meant she needed to escape. Which meant she needed to figure out where she was.

Wait, what about the blood-gnome? What was up with that? Or, shit, the floating glow-dude! What the heckity hecking heckfire was going on with that shiz?

Suddenly, out of nowhere (or perhaps not truly nowhere; she just hadn’t examined where she was just yet, as she hadn’t looked up), a pair of arms wrapped around her, and her head was squished against a very masculine, yummy-smelling (the same smell as before, actually! What a lovely coincidence!) chest. Mr. Hugglebus reached up and threaded his fingers through Mabel’s hair, holding her head against him.

“Mabel,” a voice whispered, like its owner couldn’t believe he was getting to say her name. It was familiar, but also very much not, and Mabel was, like, off-the-charts levels of confuzzled. “Mabel,” the voice said again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

It was hard to think with the pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it.

She had bigger things to deal with than a headache, no matter how nasty it was.

“Wh- whoa there, friend,” Mabel said shakily, putting her hand on his chest and pushing away from him lightly. Mr. Hugglebus pulled back enough for Mabel to get a proper look at him, and…

Wait.

What?

“Dipper?” she gasped. He said nothing. “What is up with your hair, man?” she laughed. “Or- or your getup, like! What? You goin’ to a fancy party or something? No, no, wait!” she was giggling, and it hurt her head, but it was just so goddamn good to see him she didn’t care. “Okay okay, I know! You’re doing, like, a knock-off impersonation of Gideon, right?” He furrowed his brow, annoyance filling his ice blue eyes.

But… wait. Ice blue eyes? Dipper has brown eyes. They were identical to hers. She knew this. She’d stared into those stupid-beautiful eyes of his a bazillion and one times. She knew her bro bro’s eyes, aight? She knew those suckers. This guy, though. This guy was different. Like. Different different.

“Are you… are you Dipper? ‘Cause like. The Dipster I know won’t even wear color contacts for cosplay purposes, and those eyes ain’t blue naturally, so…”

It was several moments before he finally spoke. He was gazing at her with this weirdly intense look in his eyes (holy crap, those eyes, they were so pretty, nobody’s eyes should be allowed to be that freakin’ blue) she’d never seen on anyone before.

“I’m not… your Dipper,” his emphasis the ‘your’ was strange, condescending, as if he loathed saying it.

She scooted away, her back hitting the arm of the chaise.

All she could think about was a gnome drenched in blood, babbling in terror before exploding violently.

”Then who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smiled, and not unkindly, either. It was… strange. It was a kind smile from someone who didn’t look like such things came to them naturally. It was nothing like her twin’s smile.

Nothing like it at all.

It did something to her insides. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t know how to interpret or name.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, keeping his distance, his legs twitching as if he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. ‘Cause. Like. The blood-gnome. Had that been him? Had he done that? She hadn’t seen it, but in retrospect, it totally made sense for him to have done that somehow. “But who are you?” she asked again.

“I’m something of an… alternate version of the Dipper you know.” The more he spoke, the more she found his voice to be different and strange. Plus, he looked so similar to Dipper, but Mabel only ever saw her bro’s birthmark once in a blue moon. This guy had it front and center, and his hair was slicked back, and she lowkey wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. His voice was deeper than Dipper’s. More monotone, too. It was bizarre.

It was… it was attractive, is what it was. His look and attitude, the whole shebang, it was just insanely attractive. Wait, no, no! Mabel thought to herself. It’s cool, Mabel girl, you’re all good, everything’s a-okay, it’s just that he looks like your bro, alright? No big deal. Well, okay, you shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about your bro, either, but we’re well past that.

“Alternate… version…?” Wait. Shit. Maybe he was… “Are you the anti-Dipper?” She whispered frantically, trying to back away more as if her back wasn’t already firmly pressed against the armrest. “There’s tons of different versions of me, I know that, but I’ve never seen another version of Dipper, and you look just freakin’ like him except for your whole… style and general demeanor, I guess, so-“ she was trying to get up, but holy hot pockets, that was some serious dizziness right there.

Moreover, was there another Mabel in this universe? She hadn’t seen another Mabel in years. It’d be… interesting to see one again. Wait, shit, if he was the anti-Dipper, there was the anti-Mabel somewhere around there, and Mabel was not at all confident she could currently best the anti-Mabel in a fight. And something told her the anti-Mabel wasn’t exactly one for fighting fair and waiting till she was ready. She wasn’t the meme-worth Inigo Montoya, and this wasn’t The Princess Bride.

Dammit.

Wait, he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. And she’d definitely never met him before, she would’ve remembered a fancy, older version of her bro, which could only mean he was talking about the other Mabel. Had something happened to her? Had she left, maybe?

“I’m not,” he cut in quickly, moving towards her slowly, like she was a feral cat ready to book it at any moment. “I’m not the… anti-Dipper, or whatever it was you said.”

She looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of dressing room. No, wait, it was Gideon’s dressing room! Except it wasn’t, because Not-Dipper was there, lounging on the ultra-fancy chaise as if he owned it, which he might very well have done, because Not-Dipper didn’t exactly look like he was a broke college student.

He looked like he used hundred dollar bills as tissues like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland.

Still very much fighting the urge to attempt to GTFO, as the kids say, Mabel turned back to him. “What are you, then?” He blinked for a moment, as if he were surprised, and then she belted out more questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? You don’t look like you’re the same age as me, which is weird if we’re kinda-sorta-pseudo-twins. Why am I here? Where even is here? How-“

“Okay, let’s do this properly, shall we?” He tilted his head when he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards in another one of those strange smiles that did something to Mabel’s insides. “One question at a time,” he said, holding up a long, slender finger. “You can ask me anything you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. However,” he crossed one leg over the other, his foot dangling off his knee, the arm closest to her draping casually over the back of the chaise, “for every question I answer, I get to ask one of you in return. You don’t have to answer me, of course, but if you choose not to, that’ll be the end of our little game,” he paused for a moment. “For the time being, at least. Sound fair?”

She nodded hesitantly. She could stop at any time, right?

“Go ahead, then,” he waved the hand that dangled haphazardly over the chaise.

“What’s your name?”

“Mason William Gleeful, but I’ve always been called Dipper,” he said easily, as if he’d been fully expecting that very question.

“Because of the birthmark, I assume,” Mabel was very careful not to phrase it as a question, not to raise the pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence. She didn’t know how he’d react if she asked two questions in a row.

“A fair assumption,” he agreed with a slight nod and another one of those smiles. Ugh. Could ya not, man? Like, for real, Mabel thought. His smile was most definitely not helping her nausea. “And your name? Your full name, if you would.”

“Oh, um,” was she seriously forgetting her own name? Jeez, Mabel, get it together, he’s not Dipper, get over it! “M- Mabel Caroline Pines,” she managed to stutter out.

“Pines, hm? Interesting. Alright then. Shall I go along with your other questions from before, as well?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering about your last name,” he raised his eyebrows at her and motioned for her to continue. “There’s a sort of… psychic, I guess is what you’d call him, in my universe, and he has that last name. Is that… I mean… we are in what looks like his dressing room, so…”

“I did shows here,” he said quietly, a strange look in his eye, as if he wasn’t seeing her despite looking right at her. “Once upon a time.”

“Oh. I see,” she squeaked out.

His gaze sharpened on her again, and he was moving closer to her, and Mabel tried to back up further, her sneakers scrambling against the fabric of the chaise. Eeek way too close way too close back the fudge up, man, what are you even-

“Why were you in his dressing room?” He was right in front of her face by that point, like waaaaaaay too close, ‘cause their noses were almost brushing and she could see each individual eyelash, and god his eyes were even more startlingly beautiful up close, and she wanted to reach up and touch-

No no no no, bad, bad Mabel, he’s not your Dipper, this is a different version! she told herself firmly. No touchy!

“We gave each other makeovers,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice even. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she got mildly defensive. “I was twelve! He was… I dunno, ten or eleven! Jeez!” He chuckled at that, then leaned away from her, satisfied with her answer, she supposed, and resumed his previous position as if he’d never moved from it at all.

As if he hadn’t just sent a chill down her spine that was… not altogether unpleasant, which was significantly more concerning than it would’ve been if she’d hated every second he’d been near her.

She pursed her lips and put it from her mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he said easily. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she told him quietly, surprised at his age. She glanced at the foot he’d balanced on his knee.

His shoes were fancy, too. Everything about him seemed to be. “Not what you were expecting, I see,” he observed from her expressions. Damn her and her expressive face!

“Well, it makes sense, because you certainly look older than… than my Dipper.” Her voice shook on the word ‘my’.

His hand clenched into a fist.

She didn’t know what to think of it. Was he angry, or did it mean nothing?

“But it also doesn’t make sense, because if it’s a parallel universe, we should be the same age, I would think.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Not-Dipper reasoned. “In some universes, time moves at different rates, from what I’ve gathered. In our case, it’s the same, but it seems I was born earlier. I was born in 1993, whereas you were born in…” he thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “1999.”

“Oh.” She’d never noticed that when interacting with other Mabels. Perhaps it was simply because she was too preoccupied with not dying. It had seemed rather urgent at the time.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “So, your questions,” he reminded her after a few seconds of silence.

“Right.” What had they been again? He kept looking at her, she had to get him to stop doing that. It was distracting. His eyes were distracting. She couldn’t think when they were in her, dammit. Oh! That was it! “Where are we?”

“My universe. I found you with and brought you here through a portal,” he stuck a hand in his pocket. “If you meant the locale, however, as I said before, this was our-“ he cut himself off, took a breath. “My dressing room until several years ago, when I stopped performing.”

“I… see,” she said slowly. So where was the other Mabel, then? Shouldn’t there be a fancy, blue-eyed, properly Adult™ version of herself somewhere? She looked around the dressing room (holy crapinoli, she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blue in one room), but there were no signs of a woman anywhere. There were no perfume bottles or makeup on the vanity, no dresses on the clothing rack, nothing.

How strange.

“Why were you in Gravity Falls?” He asked.

“To get away.” Helooked at her questioningly. Did it count if it was an unspoken question? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t risking it. “I needed an escape. College can be… stressful.”

That wasn’t the full reason, of course, but she wasn’t lying, either.

“Interesting.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. How could a person’s fingers be pleasant to look at?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You needed help,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He winced slightly when he did, but just a bit; the change in expression so minor she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “However did you find yourself kidnapped by gnomes, of all things? Gnomes who wanted you for their queen, no less.”

She looked away. It’d been a long time since she had fought against anything but class schedules and exams she wasn’t prepared for.

“They… caught me off guard,” she told him quietly. “They tried something similar when I was a kid, but they lost. It never occurred to me that they might try again.”

“Gnomes are persistent little things,” he mused. “They dislike losing, and they are quite stubborn. It stands to reason that they’d try again if you’d beaten them before.”

“What… what did you do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “To the gnomes, I mean. Unless, of course, I’m misremembering, because there is every chance I am, what with the concussion I very likely have and all, so if I am just say the word, but it seemed pretty dang clear that-“

“I killed them,” he said bluntly. His face was bored, disinterested. Apathetic, even. It didn’t even seem to be bothering him. How could it not be bothering him? Unless…

Unless he’d killed before.

The human brain could get used to just about anything if given enough time.

“You- you killed them,” her voice was horrified, she knew. She could hear it in her tone. Yeah, she’d wanted to get away from them, she’d wanted them to leave her alone, and maybe she’d even wanted to give them a good whack, but she hadn’t wanted them dead.

“Of course I did,” he sounded surprised at her reaction. “They hurt you. They were going to hurt you far worse.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that. But that doesn’t give you the right to just… you can’t be someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not right.”

“I only did it to save you, Mabel.” She had only heard Not-Dipper say her name once before.

It was different than when Dipper said it. Maybe it was because Not-Dipper’s voice was a little deeper, a little smoother-sounding?

“You weren’t safe. Not in your universe.” His eyes were burning, which was strange since they were the color of ice. “I can keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

“Ummm… that’s cool and all, but that’s pretty freakin’ unsettling, to have somebody just, like. ‘Splode a bunch of gnomes for you,” she eyed him warily, still trying to figure out how to get away from the dude without crawling. Would he get angry with her for not being appreciative? She didn’t want to see him angry. Would he hurt her?

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he told her quietly, his voice a little sad.

She almost lied and told him she wasn’t scared of him, that everything was hunky-dorey, and that he should smile.

She didn’t.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have, I dunno, made people explode in front of me?” She was being sarcastic, she knew, and that was probably a bad idea, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Gnomes aren’t people, technically,” he reminded her.

“Semantics,” she waved his argument away. “They’re living creatures. Or they were, anyway, before you decided to go and massacre them.”

Not-Dipper had a look on his face that suggested he wasn���t opposed to killing living creatures, whether they were human or not.

Maybe he already had.

Mabel hoped he hadn’t, but something in the way he held himself gave her a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’m sorry if that… bothers you, or if it scares you. I don’t want to make you feel those things,” he sighed. “That said, I think it’d be best if I were up front with you: if put in the same situation again -if you were in danger again, that is to say- I’d do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Take me home, please.”

There was panic in his eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The portal… it doesn’t work like that. I’ll have to find another way to get you back,” he explained. She was still glaring at him when he continued. “But for the time being, you can stay with me. If you want,” he turned his body to face her for the first time since he’d hugged her.

“Well. I suppose that’ll have to- WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” She was pointing, horrified, to his shoulder, where one arrow, perhaps about a foot long, was embedded in his shoulder. Another was in his side, the one that had been facing away from her. Blood had seeped through to pool around the entry wounds, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His eyes followed her shaking finger.

“Oh, right. I got shot with a couple of arrows. Just gnome ones, though, so they’re quite small,” she dropped her hand back to the soft fabric of the chaise.

“Okay, so you saved me, and you got hurt doing it,” she was saying this to herself, staring at her knees and speaking as if he couldn’t hear her when he could absolutely hear her. “Okay. Okay. This is fine, this is fine, Mabel girl.” She looked back up at him. “Okay, let’s go… wherever we need to go for you to treat those… yeah…”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped her to her feet, and she still found herself a bit dizzy, wobbling a bit.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he offered, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Carry m- say what now?”

“I don’t mind, particularly if you’re having difficulty walking still.” As if that explanation was adequate! Why was homeboy cool with it at all, though? She’d gotten a hella nasty gash on her leg once in PE, can ya guess how many people offered to freakin’ carry her to the nurse? Zero, is the answer. Zero.

What a weird dude. And Mabel was in love with her gay twin brother, so if she, of all people, thinks you’re weird, then you are weird.

“Nope!” she squeaked out way too quickly to sound even remotely close to being normal. “I’m good on the carrying front, thanks! Got it covered!”

“Suit yourself.” Ugh why, why was he smiling that smile again, it reminded her of Dipper and also not, and it made her nervous as all hell. “This way.” And with that, he promptly strolled out of his dressing room, clearly expecting her to follow.

[autismgavemychildvaccines]

Why I’m Ashamed to Be Christian

So, now that I am literally sick of the Measles nonsense (no, fucking literally, working 12+ hour shifts on an incident management team has got me sick and tired enough to call in tomorrow), I’ve decided to do a non PH rant, though it’ll for sure rear it’s fucking head somewhere in here. Instead, let’s tackle something real fun. Religion! Time to buckle up.  In my half fucking awake daze that I was just nudged out of, something really wild hit me. My faith, my belief in a very specific God with a specific book (though I admit that other religions, so long as their origin is not a company or a tool to oppress others on the outset, are valid/likely just as true) makes no God damned sense.  (For reference, here I will claim my most closely related sect as my own; American Evangelism [though if one were to ask in person I’d say “non-denominational”, but historically, the two are close] and will be speaking as a part of a community I used to closely belong to but now have drifted away from on some granola-crunching dumbassery that is “I am a church of one” bullshit. I’ve wanted to be other things, but ever since I left the Freemasons, fuck all else has had much appeal.) So, first things first, Garden of Eden, right? Pretty fucking cool place, some might have even called it a perfect garden, a perfect place for humans and God to interact? But here’s my hang up with it. The trees of Life and Knowledge, and the rule that Adam and Eve could eat of any fruit except those grown upon that pair. Why even fucking have them?

 When I asked that as a kid in a faith based area, they said because it was a test.

 Of what?

 “Well, of our loyalty to God and our Faith, of course”. 

Except again, what the fuck? Like, I get the idea of free-will, in fact I am a huge believer in individual free will (I’ll get to that in a sec), but here’s the stickler here. As any other creative type will tell you, we want our work to take on a life of its own. Like say I wanted to program a remarkably bright AI, and it worked, and all I wanted was for it to recognize me as its creator and to discover and enjoy what home I could make for it. You know what I wouldn’t do? I wouldn’t give an AI, even with some simulated free will, the ability to break certain rules. For example, I wouldn’t allow it unrestricted access to the internet or my personal accounts. I wouldn’t even give it the concept that such things existed, let alone put it right fucking there to be used. That would be a flaw, an imperfection in an otherwise perfect place. And yeah, there’s something to be said for giving free will with not-free consequences, sure. But two things: 1) Don’t be pissed when the thing happens that you allowed to exist in the first place and thus forced it to be a mathematical certainty now that you’re dealing with perhaps the most curious species to ever exist.  2) Don’t go blaming them for a lack of faith. If anything, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, an act that abusers often use to get what they really want and have a thin veneer of an excuse to make happen. Now doesn’t that sound a lot like a good number of the followers of this faith, as opposed to an almighty, omnipotent, powerful being? Hmm, something to consider there, maybe.  Speaking of followers, let’s actually also take a look at some of the prophets that we as American Christians often hold so dear. Now me? I’m a Luke guy, I like Luke. Peaceful, loving gospel for the most part, and I dig it. Peace and love, baby, that’s all I want coming from stories regarding a higher power that we had to hang up like a fucking tapestry to make sure we got all that love. But do you know who I fucking hate, and who I blame the most for how the American chruch is? Paul/Saul of Tarsus. Thiiiiiiiiiiis prick. This fucking Deus Vult Vulture. Actually in many ways, he really is the archetype to the Modern Evangelical fucking anything. Actively participated in the harassing, attempted extinguishing and successful terrorizing of a marginalized group. Then after being hit back for it, literally “seeing the light” and trying to be the fucking vanguard of said group only to lead it down a path where he’s suddenly the appointed expert of anything to do with the issue. And while he does this, he helps create the most violent and bigoted thoughts in the whole of the religion, and is praised for his visions as he says they are truly from God, and can thus act oh so righteously. This right here is a fucking problem, y’all. Like, I know the whole forgiveness idea allows for some mental gymnastics on how this could even happen, but even then to make a genocidal ass-face your de-facto leader aside from Christ himself for the next 2000 years is a fucking flip that even at the 1988 Olympics, if Christians were America, Russia would give them a straight 10/10.    And yet, for many of us, that’s exactly what we’ve done. Hell, we’ve even fallen into the forced victim narrative of the synopsis of this asshole:  “Oh well, you see, I was a heathen and thus I couldn’t help myself, but then like, the God of the people I was killing talked to me and like, now I have to do this (Take on the “burden” of leading the church) as penance for what I couldn’t help myself over.” We’ve fallen for it so much, that it may as well be hard wired into our nervous system to believe anything resembling it, just as we assume if something is flat, green and on a tree, it’s a leaf.  Maybe it’s why we as a religion (and let’s face it, other Abrahamic religions as well) are so damn good at beating down the marginalized while screaming that we are the saints, we’re the sacrificiers trying to make things better. Like, let’s have some modern day fun with this bullshit, man; let’s see how we treated and in many places continue to treat women.  Of the few churches I have been to, 100% of them had one dual-sided message that made me real fuckin’ uncomfortable, fam:  Part 1) That women cannot be trusted onto themselves and thus 2) Men must take control of them and society to not allow for some unspecified “Ridiculous bullshit”.  (as a fair heads up; I do fully recognize non-binary, trans individuals, etc, but for the sake of brevity I’ll be mostly referring to M/F in the traditional sort of way, because opening up Christianity’s treatment of anything regarding gender fluidity is a Ph.D. thesis for another day)  Now, I don’t know about y’all, but I know damn well that out of all the dudes I know, and all the lasses I know, they’re a pretty mixed fuckin’ bunch. It’s almost like their gender assigned at birth doesn’t really affect how reasonable they could be as people nor how much responsibility they should have. Obviously some cultural practices skew this quite a bit in so far that women are expected to take more responsibility, younger, and for less praise, but if anything that should help destroy, not reinforce that message.  And yet, the idea persists so much in Christian circles. And not just by the men themselves, but the women, also. For the longest time of my church going days, the pastor was a woman. She wholly believed it was just and right that her husband be in charge of everything, that women should be loyal to their men in all aspects. Then again, she also (despite recruiting members primarily from college) did not believe in evolution at all, so there’s that in terms of an intellectual hurdle. But regardless, this inherent submissive attitude within the faith (and even the half-hearted and self-congratulatory “Yeah but we REALLY are the ones making the decisions because we can withhold sex if we want” is essentially that too just a smidgen more empowering), when combined with the idea that men should be wholly in-control (which is a breeding ground for toxic masculinity if there ever was) is shameful. It’s what has allowed so much bullshit in the past, including these recent abortion laws. Now, I’m going to cover abortion in another post (I might get to it tomorrow; It’s been on the burner for weeks), but it’s super pertinent here.  We, as a religion, have allowed ourselves to tell women (just as we tell/told minorities before) that they cannot be trusted with their own bodies, that they cannot be trusted when they speak, and most certainly cannot be trusted to truly hold dominion over anything. And that has allowed the most insidious, hateful, bigoted, disgusting things to happen in the name of God. A God that while I am writing this post I still believe in, but my doubts about how genuine the message has ever been is hitting home. One whose words about peace have been ignored when they could be interpreted or pointed to to support war, where the rich can profit off the poor, or to support sexism, because we as men historically have wanted to control “everything of ours”, or to take the very free will we claim to hold so dear from those who need the ability to make their own decisions the most. Words that have been used to hold down good people from making lives better. Words that in the hands of those who wanted, could be profaned and desecrated and thus allow for profane and disturbing events, both on the grand stage of the world and behind the closed doors of any house in some small town. Words which are held up with a wink and a nod so that followers feel included when they are scammed by some fucking fried chicken joint who wants to make more money to fight against equality, or to pay for another $9 million jet for some asshole who croons about how the poor should be grateful they do not have the temptations of the rich.  To other followers, do you not lament that we are this way? That we have been this way for so long? Because I fucking do.  And to those who have been discriminated or marginalized or whatever else against because of your gender or skin colour or situation or victimization or  past deeds of any sort; I’m sorry. Genuinely, truly sorry you have suffered as you have. Sorry for what people have done thinking it was somehow morally or spiritually justified, sorry that they thought they were saving you. And I can assure you that I will never try to lead you as those before me have tried to. Though if it’s all the same, I’d like to get to hear you, and walk beside you. 

[lia-nikiforov]

Winter 2018 Anime Final Review

Why yes, pretty much all the Spring premieres are done (don’t even remind me haha I’m so far behind) and this is horribly late, I had a busy couple of weeks ;---; and am still struggling to catch up, but here’s my final rundown of this long slow winter! Worst to best, as always.

Dropped

Basilisk Ouka Ninpou Chou: Although I’d said I’d keep watching for the Nobunaga twist, given the onslaught of new stuff for Spring, it’s unsustainable to keep watching something so mediocre I don’t even find anything to say about it. Also Nobunaga hasn’t been mentioned in three episodes.

DUMPSTER FIRE

Darling in the Franxx: So we’re halfway through the show and still feels nothing of importance has happened, except we learned “lesbians are not viable, what a relief” and also KOKORO REALLY WANTS TO MAKE BABIES. The whole Kokoro business is very unsavory because on the one hand the writing is a dick to Walking Fat Joke Futoshi, but on the other hand Futoshi is an entitled Nice Guy who acts like Kokoro has some obligation to return his feelings, so basically everyone sucks lmao. Btw, does anyone know what happened with episode 13? I went to watch it but what I got instead was a Deadman Wonderland episode, complete with the story of Palurdo meeting Lab Experiment-turned-Beast Waifu as children and making a promise that would subsequently be forgotten until they meet again in their teenage years. Jesus, does Womenz are Beastz: The Anime have a single original idea?

How am I supposed to measure my own disinterest and contempt

This basically means I didn’t care for these shows. I don’t hate them but I was aggressively unengaged in them and I can’t really rank them from worst to best because that would imply me having any measurable emotional reaction to them

Violet Evergarden: I don’t think I have much to add about this one that I haven’t said before. Tryhard Sad Anime Girl stories rehashing old clichés with little novelty to them,  with a bonus of a super poorly explained and thought out child super soldier tragic backstory that still has me ?????? The final episode has the addendum of trying to redeem That One Asshole in a “he treats her bad because he’s sad about his brother dying sob sob sob he’s totally not a jerk” and i was very annoyed by that.

Koi wa Ameagari no You ni: It’s complicated to talk about this show. I really liked the first episode, hated the 4-6, then was mostly bored by the rest of it. The whole romance angle was completely dropped in the latter half, but I’m not even sure if that’s a good thing given how tastelessly it was being handled in some moments, or a bad one given how bland everything else was. It felt like Akira’s crush on Kondo turned out to be insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It also felt like Akira was profoundly underdeveloped, and it bothered me because Kondo was developed properly. His character felt more fully realized than hers. Like idk, I just cared so little for the last few episodes and it didn’t feel like Akira’s emotional progression was very connected with the first half of the show. 

Fate/Extra Last Encore: I don’t even have a screenshot. Apparently the reason the show started so late into the season is that it took a long time to produce, and apparently there are two more episodes that will be released at some point in July. But really, what matters is that I have no idea of what this show was trying to accomplish. The characters were a bunch of pieces of cardboard spouting pseudo nihilistic philosophical nonsense and I don’t even know how to describe the plot. It was generic in its Boss of the Week approach but the execution was often very flat. Definitely none of the fun from Apocrypha’s cool characters was to be had in this iteration of the franchise.

Too much iyashikei

This season we had too much iyashikei and I’m burned out. Here are the ones I didn’t hate but also wasn’t super in love with.

Miira no Kaikata: I think this show would’ve worked better as 3-minute vignettes. 20 minutes of it was a bit too much and I struggled to pay attention. I also felt the dragon and MukuMuku had very tangential roles. I don’t have a whole lot to say. It’s cute, if cute is your jam this show is for you. Connie is best smol monster.

Hakumei to Mikochi: Another cute show that gains extra points for its somewhat unique setting, beautiful color palette and picture book aesthetic and because the two main girls are great characters. I particularly liked the first and last episodes. It’s a relaxing, fun little show

Sanrio Danshi: The harbinger of feminism made into a toy commercial, while not quite iyashikei, is still a slice of life that just occassionally indulged in too much melodrama. It was nonetheless a fun little thing that managed to turn cynical consumerism into a positive message for boys: it’s okay to like non-traditionally-masculine things. One of the details I liked most was that none of the boys had to give up on their previous groups of friends even after “coming out”, Kouta’s friends and Shuu’s team were supportive of them and even participated in their dumbass musical play. Some may even read this show as a not-so-subtle allegory on homosexuality and while I don’t think this was Sanrio’s intent (their intent is to broaden their market, plain and simple) the fact that it works so well with that reading is honestly great. I had very minimal expectations for this show and I’m happy it turned out better than those.

Classicaloid 2: Classicaloid isn’t quite iyashikei either but it fits in the “didn’t love it, didn’t hate it” category. I’m a huge fan of season one, but unfortunately a big part of S2 failed to capture the magic. I think most of it was restored in the second cour, specially with brilliant episodes such as the one where Dovo-chan becomes a super-realistic painting of himself, and the last three episodes really captured what made Classicaloid great. I’ve really come to love this cast, so I wouldn’t complain if we got more seasons (please do Vivaldi!!!)

Shonen is a Good Genre, Actually

Shonen as a genre/demographic is much reviled for its repetitive clichés and childish stories, but I think we live at a time in which we can have well-executed shonen anime that, although falling for the same old clichés, have enough heart and sincerity that makes them enjoyable. This part also isn’t necessarily ranked, since my favorite one will change depending on which day you ask me

Nanatsu no Taizai: Imashime no Fukkatsu: As I have mentioned before, this second season seems to be the polar opposite of the first one’s rapid pace. It’s been a while since I read the manga, but I feel like it took a lot less to get to the mid-season cutoff point there than this anime would lead you to believe, especially the training part felt excruciatingly long. NanaTai has other various flaws including its 1000% not funny harrassment jokes and the dumb introduction of quantified “power levels” (why Suzuki), but characters like Diane, King and Ban give the show a unique flavor. And I’m not even gonna pretend to be unbiased, I just love everything involving Ban, even the weird and questionable choice of bringing Elaine back. I’m excited that we’re finally approaching Escanor’s arrival.

Yowapeda Glory Road: I also forgot to grab a screenshot lmao. Yowapeda is a very particular beast, and with its episode count already in the hundreds, it’s not something I’d reccommend unless you’re super into dragged out ridiculous sports anime. This second season of Onoda’s second year has not been without its flaws either, starting with the, imho absurd persistence in making Sohoku look like underdogs even though they’re reigning champions. It’s made a lot of the first two days of the Interhigh feel a lot grimmer than this cheerful show ought to. Kaburagi is still an insufferable character, and the fact that he drags the team down doesn’t help him either, and I just wish the writers would let Best Boy Teshima win anything. I hope the second day ends on a lighter note, because the gloom and doom is making this a less enjoyable watch than it should be

Mahoutsukai no Yome: I feel a little better about this one knowing the final was anime-original, but at the same time I’m beyond livid with how it was wrapped up. I loved the second half of the series because of how well-written and emotional Chise’s growth was, and everything up to her embracing of Cartaphilus’s curse was a beautiful display of her strength and will to live. What I’m not here for is that asspull wedding whatever that makes no sense in the context of the previous events, especially because after the fact, Elias’s attempt to kill Stella is swept under the rug. This could’ve been my favorite show of the season without that bullshit ending and while I don’t regret watching it, it leaves me with a sad feeling of what could have been

Best of the season

Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens: It had a slow start, but with its endearing cast and well-developed character relationships, HTR won me over, especially the last quarter. The animation was veeery barebones, but Lin and Bamba’s charisma and their organically developed relationship carried the show to be one of the most enjoyable of the season. I also really appreciate the fact that the series includes a gay couple with an adopted daughter and that Lin’s crossdressing is never used as a joke or treated as a character flaw or a “phase”. I love stories about found families and I’d love to see more of this gang fighting crime and doing shady business in their city of assassins.

Garo: Vanishing Line: This iteration of Garo had a somewhat slow start, but boy did it pick up steam in the second half. The action was great -the final fight against King had some incredible stylistic choices, the characters’ journeys felt complete and very human and the story was interesting and different enough from other Garo to not feel repetitive, yet with enough Garoisms that made it feel connected to everything else. Like I said, I love stories about found families, so the way Sophie found a home with Gina, Luke and Sword by the end was very touching. Watching Sophie’s journey has been a treat, and I’m immensely happy that this wasn’t a Guren no Tsuki disaster, but was more in line with the excellence of Honoo no Kokuin.

Gakuen Babysitters: This was the huge surprise of the season for me, I almost expected it to be pretty dull. Instead it turned out to be super cute and extremely heartwarming. It had a couple of duds here and there, mostly the not-actually-a-pedophile joke character and the early love triangle skits, but the former disappeared and the latter was vastly improved in the second half of the show. I wish Ryuichi’s grief had been dealt with a bit more, but I think what they did show was very well executed and empathetic. And the portrayal of the kids felt very realistic, including both children’s most adorable and most obnoxious behaviors. KIRIN IS BEST GIRL

Card Captor Sakura Clear Card arc: I have expressed some complaints and dissatisfactions with this sequel all through the season. Mostly in regards to the new cards and how the old ones seem to have been forgotten (also the lazy designs of the new cards). In spite of that, Sakura hasn’t lost any of its heart in these 20 years, the characters are still the kids we grew up with. It is an overwhelmingly cheerful and positive show, from Sakura and Syaoran’s shyly developing relationship, to the hopefulness of Sakura’s magic and just the simple day to day life of Sakura and her friends. In spite of all its flaws, Sakura is still my favorite show of the season and I’m happy we get to spend one more season with these characters. Just please give me more Yue??? 

Ooooof, finally I’m done with this! PLEASE LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT THE 20+ SHOWS I’M SAMPLING FOR SPRING AHAHAHAHA. There’s too much anime. Anime must be stopped, immediately. Don’t hesitate to send me your thoughts about the winter season, even if it seems I’m losing my mind a little Dx TOO MUCH ANIME

[sammyshuno]

100 Questions Nobody Ever Asks!

I was tagged by @simsomedia!

1. Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?

Closed.

2. Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotels?

I work at Lush Cosmetics so I only ever use my own shit.

3. Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?

What does this mean...?

4. Have you stolen a street sign before?

Yes! Well, kind of. I found one on the side of the highway and gave it to a friend for his birthday. I also had a bunch in my backyard because my dad is a sign thief.

5. Do you like to use post-it notes?

I prefer digital notes. Post-Its are fun, though.

6. Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?

I just throw them away or let them expire.

7. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of bees?

Are they definitely going to attack me? Because I know how to deal with bears and how to avoid being mauled by them. And also it’s really hard to get attacked by a swarm of bees. If it was wasps, however, I’d take my chances with the bear.

8. Do you have freckles?

A few!

9. Do you always smile for pictures?

With my teeth or...? I haven’t really perfected my photo face....

10. What’s your biggest pet peeve?

There are literally too many for me to pick just one. The one that I have to deal with most often though is people being rude to retail workers.

11. Do you ever count your steps when you walk?

Only sometimes.

12. Have you peed in the woods?

Plenty of times. I hate doing it, but I have.

13. Have you ever pooped in the woods?

Probably.

14. Do you ever dance even if there’s no music playing?

Not often.

15. Do you chew your pens and pencils?

I used to.

16. How many people have you slept with this week?

I’m engaged and it’s monogamous, so only one...but we have a very active sex life.

17. What size is your bed?

California King! So much room.

18. What is your song of the week?

Tell Me I’m A Wreck by Every Avenue.

19. Is it OK for guys to wear pink?

Is this an actual question? It’s dumb as hell. You know what’s not okay for guys to wear? Fragile masculinity. Pink was originally a masculine color because it’s a shade of red and red is a ‘powerful’ color. Dresses were also deemed masculine in the early 1900s. Fuck gender roles, honestly.

20. Do you still watch cartoons?

Yes! I’m currently re-watching ATLA!

21. What is your least favorite movie?

Least? I don’t have a least favorite...I don’t watch movies that often.

22. Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?

My hometown? I don’t know.

23. What do you drink with dinner?

Water, energy drinks, something alcoholic.

24. What do you dip a chicken nugget in?

Barbecue sauce.

25. What is your favorite food?

Pasta!

26. What movies could you watch over and over again and still love?

Fight Club, Donnie Darko, Anchorman...a lot really. Like I said, I don’t really watch movies that often. When I do, it’s ones that I’ve already seen. Those are just my favorites.

27. Last person you kissed/kissed you?

My fiance!

28. Were you ever a boy/girl scout?

Fuck no.

29. Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine?

I thought about becoming a Suicide Girl for a while. I’d definitely do underwear modeling.

30. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?

I used to do it all the time but I can’t remember the last time.

31. Can you change the oil on a car?

By myself? Probably not. I can’t even drive.

32. Ever gotten a speeding ticket?

I don’t drive.

33. Ever ran out of gas?

I DON’T DRIVE.

34. What’s your favorite kind of sandwich?

Okay, story time...there’s a sandwich at a deli by my old college called an Elbows Up. It’s literally an elbow macaroni and cheese sandwich with pulled pork and barbecue sauce. It’s the bomb.

35. Best thing to eat for breakfast?

Steak, eggs, french toast, hashbrowns, and grits.

36. What is your usual bedtime?

Anytime after midnight.

37. Are you lazy?

To a fault. It’s the depression, my dude.

38. When you were a kid, what did you dressed up as for Halloween?

I was a princess every year for a while. I was a witch twice. I was a dark fairy once. I was Kurt Cobain once (poor taste). I was Dead Riding Hood when I was fifteen and again when I was eighteen. And ever since then I’ve been Harley Quinn.

39. What is your Chinese astrological sign?

Pig.

40. How many languages can you speak?

English, but like...proper English because my mom was raised in the UK. I also took Spanish for three years, but I’m rusty.

41. Do you have any magazine subscriptions?

Nope. I get enough junk mail as it is.

42. Which are better: LEGOS or Lincoln Logs?

Holy shit! Lincoln Logs were my SHIT! LEGOS are pretty cool but I’d just like to mention real quick that...no one spends hundreds of dollars to collect Lincoln Logs.

43. Are you stubborn?

I’m an Aries and an eldest child. Does that tell you anything?

44. Who is better: Leno or Letterman?

I don’t care.

45. Ever watch soap operas?

Only to drag them.

46. Are you afraid of heights?

I’m not afraid of heights. I do not like heights...for personal reasons.

47. Do you sing in the car?

Only every time I’m in it.

48. Do you sing in the shower?

Not really.

49. Do you dance in the car?

My fiance and I both do it and we look really ridiculous but it’s super fun.

50. Ever used a gun?

Not a real gun. I’ve used BB guns and dart guns, though.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

Family portrait when I was a little kid. I usually take my own photos.

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

Usually. The only one I’ve ever found that executed it perfectly is Across The Universe. That’s some good shit right there.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

Only because I constantly have to remind people that tell me “remember the real reason we celebrate Christmas” that it’s a pagan holiday and not a Christian holiday. I do love shopping for and giving gifts, though. I’m really good at it.

54. Ever eat pierogi?

I LOVE PIEROGI!

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

Does lemon meringue count? Or key lime? Or banana cream?

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

I wanted to be an artist and a vet.

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

Bitch, I’ve seen ghosts.

58. Ever have a deja-vu feeling?

Pretty much every single day, I feel like I’m living in a dream-world. It’s not fun.

59. Do you take vitamin daily?

Nope. Just try to eat my daily greens.

60. Do you wear slippers?

Nope! I hate wearing shoes, especially in my own house.

61. Do you wear a bath robe?

All the time. When I’m lazy, when I don’t care, when I’m cold. It’s not even mine. It’s my fiance’s. But I steal it.

62. What do you wear to be comfortable?

Ethica underwear. Comfiest shit in the world.

63. What was your first concert?

I’ve been going to local and underground concerts since I was ten. My first arena concert was my favorite band of all time: My Chemical Romance. They played with Matt & Kim and Blink-182.

64. Walmart, Target or KMART?

Target, because they’re a great company. Also, my fiance works in the Electronics section.

65. Nike or Adidas?

Vans.

66. Cheetos or Fritos?

Both!

67. Peanuts or Sunflower Seeds?

Pistachios.

68. Ever hear of the group Tres Bien?

Sounds familiar.

69. Ever take dance lessons?

Nope.

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

We’re both gonna be rock stars.

71. Can you curl your tongue?

Yes! I can’t roll it, though.

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

Never even participated. I would, though. I can spell anything.

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

I cry all the time for multiple reasons.

74. Own any record albums?

Yes, actually. I own The Black Parade, The Moody Blues Best Hits, and the soundtrack to A Clockwork Orange.

75. Own a record player?

There’s like four in my garage, so technically I guess I do.

76. Do you regularly burn incense?

I love incense. Yes.

77. Ever been in love?

Too many times.

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

I’d like to see MCR again.

79. What was the last concert you saw?

Green Day and Against Me!

80. Hot Tea or Cold Tea?

Both, every day.

81. Tea or Coffee?

Energy drinks.

82. Sugar Cookies or Snickerdoodles?

Those soft sugar cookies with that shitty frosting...god, I love them so much.

83. Can you swim well?

Well enough.

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

Underwater? No. Otherwise, yes.

85. Are you patient?

Absolutely not.

86. DJ or Band at a Wedding?

I don’t even know yet. I should probably figure that out soon.

87. Ever won a contest?

Maybe. Can’t remember.

88. Have you ever had plastic surgery?

Nope! But people used to ask me if my boobs were fake in high school because I was so skinny and they were so big.

89. Which are better: Black or Green Olives?

I HATE OLIVES.

90. Can you knit or crochet?

Not really. My mom is a pro.

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Living room, probably...but I’d put a fireplace in any room.

92. Do you want to get married?

More than anything!

93. If married, how long have you been married?

We’re getting married next October.

94. Who was your high school crush?

I had a lot, but I dated the same guy through junior and senior year, and for some time after. So, mainly him.

95. Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?

I used to, and I’ve been guilty of it in my teenage/adult years. I’m a brat.

96. Do you have kids?

Not yet. Three years.

97. Do you want kids?

Yes! I only want two, but maybe we’ll consider a third later down the road.

98. What is your favorite color?

Yellow, for my long lost love Vincent Van Gogh.

99. Do you miss anyone right now?

I miss so many people all of the time.

100. Who are you going to tag to do this tag next?

Anyone who wants to.

[meeedeee]

Final Fantasy FXV: Thoughts RSS FEED OF POST WRITTEN BY FOZMEADOWS

When I first heard that FFXV was going to break with franchise tradition by having an all-male central team, I was more than a little surprised. Final Fantasy has always been distinguished as much by its memorable – and central – female characters as by any other element; which is why, somewhat paradoxically, I never felt particularly angry about the switch, either. As a whole, video games are still male-dominated in a way that frequently sets my teeth on edge, but Final Fantasy has a strong line of credit with me: whatever my thoughts on the state of gaming as an industry – and while criticism of Square Enix’s decision in this context is nonetheless valid – I felt I could still attempt the game itself.

Thus far, at roughly eight hours in – which is, I’m aware, not very far at all – I’m enjoying myself immensely, though possibly not in a way that was intended. And in order to satisfactorily explain why that is, I first need to say a little about my history with the franchise.

The first Final Fantasy I ever played was VIII, which always made me something of an oddity among my friends: unlike everyone who started the series at VII or earlier, I had no established sense of how the combat system ought to work, and so took the VIII model, which was a widely-hated departure from canon, as my yardstick for the series. This meant I was not only frustrated by the traditional setup used in VII and IX, but irritated by the more cartoonish character designs. Which isn’t to say that I disliked either game, exactly: just that they were always less beloved to me than VIII and, later on, X and XII, whose advanced graphics and combat systems more closely resembled what VIII had been trying – with, admittedly, more ambition than success – to achieve.

Even now, XII remains my favourite Final Fantasy. The writing and voice acting were both incredible, and even though Vaan, rather than Ashe, was the POV character, I loved the departure from canon that made him a non-romantic participant in her narrative. By contrast, XIII was a clusterfuck, so much so that I quickly set it aside as unplayable: the writing was naff, the voice acting melodramatic (with the single exception of Sazh), the premise confused and the combat frustratingly garbled. I couldn’t understand how the best aspects of XII had been so thoroughly disregarded, and as such, I never bothered with the sequel, which makes XV the first new Final Fantasy I’ve played since 2010.

Aesthetically, then, XV is paying a great deal of homage to my favourite games in the series – VIII and XII – which predisposes me to love it. The opening premise of an invading empire and a missing heir to the throne is evocative of both Galbadia and Archadia, with Noctis’s early quest to recover lost weapons from ancient tombs running a close parallel to Ashe’s quest in XII. The fact that Noctis, Prompto, Ignis and Gladio spend the game driving around in a sports car might seem ridiculous on the surface, especially if you’ve got a preference for the airships of VII, IX and XII, but only if you’ve forgotten the convertibles and jeeps of VIII, where driving on the worldmap was also a feature, and where fancy cars were a staple of the more dramatic cutscenes.

In fact, there’s always been something of a roadtrip vibe to a lot of the Final Fantasy games, and not only in terms of the main party journeying thither and yon across multiple fictional worlds. The many flashbacks to Lord Braska’s pilgrimage in X show him broing it up with Auron and Jecht (to whom Gladio bears more than a superficial physical and vocal resemblance), while their decision to sphere-capture their adventures is a clear forerunner to Prompto’s photography. VIII didn’t lack for female characters, but the initial SEED test features a grumpily all-male party, with Squall, Zell and Seifer forced into a temporary alliance. Squall and Zell were always something of an odd pair, but delightfully so, and their dynamic has been revived – and, I’d argue, improved – in the byplay between Noctis and Prompto. Likewise, Ignis’s dry drawl and dryer expression are more than a little reminiscent of Balthier, though his dutiful priorities make him a closer equivalent to Auron and Basch.

In other words, the four protagonists of XV are themselves a homage to the male relationships of previous Final Fantasy games, and quite clearly so. Together, they interact much as you’d expect of a quartet of twentysomething men, joking and snarking at each other in equal measure. The writing and voice acting aren’t as good as XII, but they’re nowhere near the abysmal mess of XIII. I’d peg them as being on par with X: naff at times, but somehow endearingly so, and overall engaging. Granted, the background plot is complex – it helps to have watched the prequel movie, Kingsglaive, and there’s also an accompanying anime series – but part of what makes the quartet watchable is how clearly established their friendship is: we’re getting to know the characters by how they know each other.

As far as the gameplay and levelling systems go, I’ve got no complaints thus far. Even without being able to run through the full tutorial for fighting – my version kept glitching when it came to learning how to warp – I’ve still found it intuitive to use. It’s a dissimilar combat system to most FF games, in that it’s not turn-based, but neither is it as blindingly fast-paced or poorly-designed as the system used in XIII, and the ability to warp to targets makes for some engaging tactical options. It helps that I’ve just come off a huge Dragon Age: Inquisition jag: my preferred approach to combat in both games can best be described as “running in headfirst with a large sword and hitting things until they fall down,” with magic and projectile weapons left on auto until or unless I’m specifically forced to use them. Players who favour different tactics might have more complaints to level here, but for my purposes, it works just fine.

But what I’m really loving about XV is the extent to which – I assume unintentionally – it’s both hilarious and heavily queercoded.

I’ll deal with the latter first, because it’s arguably the more contentious point. Let me be clear: I’m not for one second giving Square Enix props for deliberately creating queer representation here, because I don’t think for a second that it’s what they actually meant to do – or at least, if they’re trying to muddle vaguely in that direction, then they haven’t had the guts to confirm it. Culturally, the lines we draw been homosocial and homosexual behaviour tend to be as historically arbitrary as they are fiercely policed, with any overlap subject to argument on both sides. But cultural differences is, I suspect, a large part of why XV reads the way it does: the game is originally Japanese, and in trying to cater to both Japanese and Western masculine ideals, Square Enix has wandered into what plays as a rather spectacularly queer compromise.

First and most obviously, there’s the wardrobe issue. Clearly, the all-black leather aesthetic is meant to look Manly and Cool and Deeply Heterosexual In A Traditionally Masculine Way, and if the designs were simple, functional and militaristic, then that would probably work, even given the youth and beauty of the characters (more of which shortly). But Final Fantasy, like a great many Japanese properties, is famous for its distinctive clothing designs, which means the characters look less like soldiers and more like scene kids en route to a metal concert. Specifically: Noctis and Prompto look like they shop at Hot Topic, Ignis is wearing Cuban heeled boots, driving gloves and seme glasses (seriously) and Gladio consistently looks like he’s posing for a Grindr photo. Like. I’m aware that he’s meant to be the most hypermasculine  straight male self-identification fantasy of the four, what with the scar and the tattoos and the devastatingly Japanese mullet, but generally speaking, ripped guys in open leather shirts and tight leather pants are more visually reminiscent of Mardi Gras than the military. I’m just saying.

The fact that you can customise their outfits (to a degree), and that picking a new wardrobe changes their stats, isn’t a new development: in fact, it’s something the franchise first introduced with dress spheres in the all-female X-2, which makes its presence in the all-male XV a subtly pleasing symmetry. And yet it runs up against a standard of masculine gaming: changing your armour is one thing, because armour is Manly, but changing your clothes – which, stat bonuses or not, is what we’re functionally talking about – is something else entirely. It’s a truly strange demarcation, because there are plenty of instances where video game characters change outfits of their own accord, in cutscenes or for plot-specific purposes, or where the change represents a specific, all-over upgrade. But the option to alter the appearance of male characters for largely aesthetic reasons – to change how they look to you, the player, in clothes that are recognisably modern and fashionable – is not, I suspect, a common feature of games aimed at heterosexual men, nor is the in-game implication of the characters toting around a bunch of fancy matching outfits a particularly straight-coded thing.

And, okay. Even though we queer folk often telegraph our identities through fashion, there’s a degree of reductive stereotype inherent in judging sexuality on the basis of clothing choice, and if that were the only issue here, I wouldn’t have brought it up. (Except, of course, to point out the truly delightful ridiculousness of watching four goth boys run around the countryside in full club gear, often while complaining about the temperature. It’s like they’re headed for Glastonbury with monsters.) But the queercoding of XV is a package deal: it’s not just the clothes, but the clothes in combination with the characters themselves, the dialogue they’re given, and the way the four of them occupy the game.

Specifically: Final Fantasy is a gaming franchise that’s well aware, historically speaking, of its very large female fanbase. Even though the majority of the games have male protagonists, they’ve traditionally been designed for a straight female gaze – and more, I would argue, a teenage female gaze, given that the characters are usually in their teens or very early twenties – in line with aesthetics more Japanese than Western. Former heroes like Cloud, Squall, Zidane, Tidus and Vaan might be formidable warriors in-game, but they’re never beefed up: they’re overwhelmingly built lean, with much longer, more stylised hair than you typically see on masculine Western characters. They wear jewellery – often visible in their base character designs, and not just as a hidden accessory slot – and offhand, aside from various weird lines around Cloud crossdressing in VII, I can’t think of any real instances of sexism or misogyny from those characters that aren’t actively shut down. In fact, the number of female characters in the earlier games ensures that, in addition to any love interests, the leading men also have platonic female friends – something that’s still damnably unusual in most forms of media, let alone in video games.

All of which, thus far, holds true in XV, too: Princess Lunafreya, Noctis’s intended bride, is his childhood friend, as is Gladio’s sister, Iris. When the game begins, Noctis and his friends are travelling to meet Lunafreya before their (politically arranged) wedding; when everything goes awry because betrayal and empire, they’re forced to regroup and end up hanging out with Iris, who has escaped to the city of Lesallum. That’s where I’m up to so far, and what immediately stands out to me, as someone who spent a not inconsiderable portion of their adolescence and early twenties hanging around single straight guys, is the fact that the quartet barely ever talk about women at all. And the thing is, I can see why it’s been done! Final Fantasy has a heavy female fanbase, and in any case, they’re not the sort of games where the male soldiers sit around reminiscing about sexual conquests. But contextually, because of the way the game is presented – four friends driving and talking shit in real time, mocking each other, while initially on the way to see one of them married – the lack of talk about sex or romance of any kind is jarring.

Which isn’t to say the subject of women never comes up at all; it’s just that, when it does, the overwhelming impression is of dialogue written with a female audience in mind, but without any awareness of the queercoding implications of its delivery by these particular male characters. This means, for instance, that there’s a scene where the boys find a magazine article about Lunafreya’s wedding dress, and all of them start cooing about how beautiful it will be; Ignis notes that the dress is bespoke, designed by Vivienne Westwood, and Prompto starts enthusing about how pretty Lunafreya will look in it. In Hammerhead, the buxom mechanic Cindy, whose character design is clearly meant to please the straight male players, is someone who, in real life, you’d expect a bunch of straight boys on an ostensible stag trip to talk about. Except that they never do; and instead, the one time there’s a reference made to Gladio “chatting someone up,” it turns out to be a grumpily endearing scientist who wants you to go catch some frogs as penance for interrupting her research.

And then there’s Noctis taking a tour of Lestallum with Iris. Throughout this mini-quest, you’re given a set of binary conversational options to either encourage Iris in her enthusiasm for the town, or to disapprove. Then, at the end, she coyly suggests that being on the tour was almost like a date – an assertion you can either play off lightly, or outright deny: pointedly, there is no option to agree. If you deny, she laughs and says “you could at least play along for once,” suggesting that Iris knows Noctis isn’t interested in her and is willing to tease him about it – an odd thing to include, if you don’t want the audience to wonder about his preferences.

A little earlier in the game, Prompto asks Noctis what he ought to take more photos of: apart from declining, the only options are “me” (meaning Noctis), Ignis or Gladio. Again, there’s a gameworld logic to this – the photos are ultimately viewed by the player, who gets to pick which character they want to record the most – but in terms of the impact in setting, this is not an outstandingly heterosexual moment. Very possibly, there exists a group of straight bros whose designated photographer is happy asking, “Hey bro, which of our friends do you want to see more in pictures?” in an established No Homo way, and if so, more power to them. But if you want to find a context where that sort of exchange is an everyday thing, then look no further than the queer regions of Instagram. (Plus, it’s kind of conspicuous how often Prompto, when assessing the day’s photos, comments on how good Gladio the Perpetually Shirtless looks.)

And then there’s the occasional quirks of dialogue and voice acting: choices that, again, would be minor on their own, but which collectively become suggestive of something specific. Early on, Cor sends Gladio, Prompto and Ignis to make a distraction at a military blockade while he and Noctis sneak inside: the gambit is successful, and when the group reunites afterwards, Gladio says cheerfully, “The Niffs couldn’t keep their eyes off us!”. To which Ignis quips, in reference to Noctis and Cor’s arrival, “You spared us their attentions.” Offhand, I can think of about a dozen different ways to word that exchange that don’t remotely brush up against innuendo, and which are far more colloquially and contextually apt besides. The eyes/attentions combo is the kind of thing you’d expect a pair of femme fatales to say after seducing the guards and knocking them out in an action movie. (The fact that we don’t actually witness the initial distraction only adds to its ambiguity.) And yet, this is what they’ve gone with.

Other examples are smaller, but they all add up. Whenever you find new ingredients for Ignis to cook with, he stops to announce, with particular vocal flamboyance, that he’s just thought up a new recipe (exclamation mark!), and whips out a notebook to jot it down. (“I’ll taste test for ya,” Gladio says, in a playfully growling tone that always seems to have one eye on the bedroom.) And then there’s Prompto, who I’m inclined to think of as a confused bisexual puppy, whose voice turns dreamily fanboyish when discussing Cor’s exploits, and who gets just as excited on receiving Cor’s praise as he does at the prospect of seeing Lunafreya in her pretty wedding dress.

Put this all together, then, and what you have are a bunch of young men who are, by Western standards, more pretty than handsome, dressed in fashionable clothes and accessories that are more evocative of queer or queer-friendly subcultures than not, and who care enough about their appearance to have multiple outfits on hand at any given time. (You can, if you’re willing to sacrifice an accessory slot to aesthetics, buy hair gel for them to use.) These men are knowledgeable about fashion, have a platonic concern for the women they encounter, are constantly photographing one another for each other, have zero comments to make about the stupidly hot female mechanic unless they’re praising her competence, and whose idea of “chatting someone up” apparently means “talking to the grumpy frog lady about the local wildlife population”. This isn’t me leaping to conclusions, here: in the immortal words of Buffy Summers, I took a tiny step and there conclusions were.

All of which is a way of saying that, thus far, I’m delighted with Final Fantasy XV, though not in the ways I’d expected. The characters and setting are a homage to my favourite games in the series, and while I worried the absence of female characters would grate on me, our quartet of bumbling chocobros is stupidly endearing. At this point, Noctis is functionally useless as a prince: even when he’s recognised, the local yokels have no qualms about asking him to take their deliveries or run their errands, and while random sidequests are an RPG staple, they’re usually somewhat tailored to the protagonist’s perceived status. In FFXV, everything is rendered hilarious by the fact that Noctis is a prince, and is seen as a prince, and is still being asked to catch frogs in a swamp and grab shit from some random marketeer’s broken van.

(He’s also gloriously introverted: in dealing with people, his responses usually vary from monosyllabic to resigned disinterest, but when you come across a stray cat in need of feeding – a tiny sidequest that’s a deliberate throwback to Squall doing likewise in VIII – he talks to it at greater length and with more enthusiasm than he otherwise displays with anyone.)

As far as I’m concerned, FFXV is a magic road trip with a bunch of queer boys who have their wardrobes together, but not their shit. I can identify. And so, I suspect, can everyone else who’s fallen into the trashpile of this visually beautiful, thematically mishmash game. I honestly don’t care about the random anachronisms, like the fact that they’re carrying smartphones and fighting magic robots, but still using paper maps and newspapers, to say nothing of using a fucking dog as a messenger for vital correspondence through a warzone – or rather, I do care, but only because the clear discontinuity of it somehow plays as a feature instead of a bug. The entire thing ought to be ridiculous, and it kind of is, but pleasingly so, like a cat in a Halloween costume. The characters don’t take each other seriously, which frees the player up to do likewise – to laugh with them, rather than at them. And frankly, I’ll take that over XIII’s self-important melodrama any day of the week.

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