#and lets forget its problematic we were all teenagers once

[the-knight-of-the-stars]

Mal and Ben: The problems on D2

I haven't seen anyone talk about this closely so I'm bringing it up.

Why on earth does D2 frame Mal as the victim when Uma shows up at cotillion when like... Ben has every right to invite another girl.

I mean, the love spell aside. If he really invited Uma to cotillion why is Mal fucking crying and being "ohh poor her, she is so upset". What is she upset about?? Why is she and everyone else acting like Ben cheat on her??

Did you all forget she abandoned him after ONE discussion in which, by the way, she tried to spell Ben? And then broke up with him and made it very clear she wanted that and it was the best for everyone.

Let's take a close look at this. I´ll try to keep my mind open. Hold yourselves guys, this may be a little long. 

Ben and Mal's relationship seems... Problematic at the beginning of D2. They have a communication issue, Ben is busy and stressed but he never shows it to Mal, he always wants to be the perfect prince for her. Mal is constantly lying to him and hiding things from him, changing herself to "fit" with what she thinks Ben wants.

Is clear that Mal has many trusting and self-esteem problems (I think some therapy would do her good). Also, she has a problem with the use of magic, it has become a bad habit, and no matter what everyone says to her, she ignores them and victimizes herself. Her behavior is even a little self-destructive, and towards Ben, is really toxic. 

Ben is seen trying his best to make her feel comfortable, and yes, him being busy all the time and not very open to her either doesn't help Mal's problems. But here is the thing, the movie, constantly frames their situation as it was only Ben's job to make an effort, but is it really? I feel like the movie wants us to think Ben should have known what Mal was feeling, that he should have been there paying her attention.

And I don't think that's fair. He is still a teenager, and not an ordinary one, he already has a whole kingdom on his hands, an entire nation that depends on him. His duty is with Auradon first. And still, he tries his best to spend time with Mal, to visit her between classes, to be available to her. And even if his only occupation was being Mal's boyfriend, I believe is unfair to expect him to just know what Mal feels. 

People who had emotionally unavailable parents growing up, people inexperienced in healthy communication, people under a lot of stress, people with depression, people with PTSD, with ADHD, neurodivergent people, even people who had a bad day, or is sleepy, all these people are many times unable to understand indirect signals from people around them, that doesn't make them bad people, or bad parents, bad siblings, bad partners. 

That is why good communication is so important in a relationship. We cant expect Ben to just know, when Mal has been lying to him for weeks, and possibly (we´ll get to that) spelling him to not remember.

This is when we get to their first fight... and oh boy. 

They are sharing a nice moment, Ben even mentions that he misses spending time with her. He compliments her for making all that food. And then he finds the spellbook, and he is not even angry. He is disappointed because he didn't just find out she used magic to make the picnic, he just finds out she has been lying to him for gods know how long. 

And then... Mal tries to spell him. 

I cannot express enough how wrong that was. How messed up that was. This not only shows us how Mal is unable to take responsibility and face any kind of consequence for her actions, but this also shows truly abusive behavior towards Ben. She is erasing his memories and only leaving the ones she wants him to remember, that is manipulation, which is basically magical gaslighting. 

Imagine if Ben after that fight decided he didn't want to date Mal anymore, but now he can't, because she erased his memories, she went against his wishes and left him unable to walk away from her. It removes his free will and is a violation of his freedom. It's very worrying that she knew that spell by memory and didn't even think before start casting it the second Ben showed any emotion aside of the “happy nice boyfriend” she wants. 

It's still debatable whether Mal had spell him before in similar situations or not because we don't have enough information to confirm it. But the isolated incident is very abusive on its own, even if she never actually spell him. 

And what makes it worst is that she doesn't apologize, the next thing she says is “Ben, it's been so hard for me”. She is taking the blame out of her again, justifying her actions. And I think that is one of the worst parts, she doesn't think what she did is wrong, she thinks she had to do it. 

This is when we get to Ben very rightfully being angry for the first time in the movies. Let me make it clear: He says for the first time what he really feels and it turns against him. Mal then finally tells him why she did all that and admits that she has been faking it all, again, without taking any guilt on this whole situation. 

Ben tries to keep talking about the matter but Mal refuses. Then she runs away because she “Doesn't belong there”. She doesn't tell Ben, doesn't even bother breaking up with him, she just leaves. And we once again see Ben excusing Mal's abusive behavior.

When Evie goes to tell Ben that Mal went back to the Island he is the one who assumes all the blame, saying it was all his fault, that he should have been more understanding of her, and he acted “like a beast”. Now, here is our prove that Ben is also dealing with some serious self-esteem problems, he doesn't express his feelings, and the first time he does, he thinks he wasn't entitled to feel them, he feels he was ”a beast” just because he showed anger. He doesn't know how to show his emotions in a healthy way. 

The way Ben feels like he was to be perfect and the “ideal good person” all the time really worries me. Is like he is afraid all the time to hurt the feelings of others. And the way he specifically uses the word Beast as something negative that he doesn't want to be, and the way he backs in fear when his father loses his temper in the first movie, really makes you think about the way he was raised. 

Many people have pointed out that Ben and his family show signs of domestic violence and I couldn't agree more. Is very telling the way he excuses everything Mal does and bearly disagrees with her. We have seen how his father gaslights him, and if he is used to that type of treatment, of course, he cant see how wrong it is what Mal does.

Despite Mal giving up on their relationship, Ben still tries to talk to her, putting himself in danger (yes, as King is very dangerous for him to go to the isle without protection) to work out their problems and apologize to Mal. The first thing he says is “I'm so sorry about our fight, it was all my fault” He takes full responsibility for the discussion, no question asked. 

When Mal says she doesn't think she can change, Ben says that then he is the one who will change. I think it speaks for itself, Mal isn't willing to bend her agenda for him, but he is.

Mal refuses to come back, refuses to try to solve their problems no once, but at least three times during this conversation. Just to end it with Ben asking if she loves him, and she doesn't answer, she instead says this is what is best for everyone and asks Ben to go three times.

So big shock, he does. 

He gets the message, and he decides to come back to Auradon, where, by the way, he is needed. And he gets kidnaped and then Mal has to rescue him. When they meet again after, coming back to Auradon in the car, Ben apologizes AGAIN because “things didn't go the way Mal wanted” like, this is getting ridiculous, what is he apologizing for this time??

So, let's see. Mal lies to him for weeks, when she gets caught she tries to spell Ben and doesn't take any responsibility, abandons him and then repeatedly tells him that she wants to end things and that she is not willing to try to resolve things. 

So Ben accepts, and when he decides to bring another girl to cotillion Mal is suddenly surprised, and hurt, and upset???

Like, does she want him to move on or not? Is not even like she is worried about him going out with Uma, someone who captures him, she is upset because HOW DOES HE DARE GO BACK TO THE ISLE TO GET SOMEONE HE CARES ABOUT (You didn't care when you were the one he went to get hhum Mal?).

It pains me how much Mal can't stand to look at Ben being happy with someone. The whole damn movie she told him to stay away, she told him that she wanted what was best for him. So why now, in front of everyone, SHE is the one playing victim? Why is she acting like Ben is the one who broke her heart, the one who gave up on her??

She broke up with him, she abandoned him, she refused to talk to him, she told him to get away, and NOW she wants him to be understanding and forgiving??

And when the fucking painted glass shit is revealed she realizes he loved the real her?? Because he put her green eyes and purple hair on a painting? Not because he put his life in danger for her, not because he told her he was willing to change for her?

She wants him to love her “as she really is”. Why doesn't SHE love him like he really is?? She walked away from him the second he wasn't perfect, but she can make all the mistakes in the world and should just... be forgiven?

No, sorry, I´m not buying that. And I certainly don't want them to marry.

[activelytaemin]

growing pains [lee taemin]

◇ lee taemin x fem! reader

angst-ish? | college!au | non-idol!au

warnings: mature language, unedited

2.0k April 8th, 2021

everything written in this story is completely FICTION. i personally do not believe that this story aligns with any of the idol’s real lives. ultimately, this story is not meant to intentionally defame any idol in any way.   

chapter one [congratulations, but not really]

Dear {Y/N},

Congratulations! I am pleased to offer you admission to the University of California, Riverside for fall 2021.

the golden word congratulations lit up y/n’s eyes as she screamed falling into her brother’s arms.  tears emerged from her eyes realizing that she would finally leave the colorful city of busan for the sunny shores of california; this was a cultural reset that guaranteed her an infinite amount of memories to come.  

“i did it! jimin, i studied so hard”, she sobbed, grasping onto his slim frame.  “it feels worth it like—“, she paused to wipe her tears with her sleeves, “all my late nights, immense sacrifices, and good grades have made this worth it.”  

jimin rolled his eyes playfully and lightly pushing her off of him. “yeah, of course you made it in”, he scoffed jokingly, “we’re a family geniuses. you weren’t raised to be a dumbass.” he ruffled her hair before y/n grabbed his wrist.  

“i guess that’s why both of my brothers are stuck here—“, y/n held his hand lovingly before sarcastically stabbing his back, “especially the one named park jimin, he didn’t get accepted into any ivy’s or safety’s. now he’s stuck going to an online university.” she released his hand before smiling to truly appreciate him, “but all jokes aside, i couldn’t have done this without you.”

her mind wandered to the thought of sunny california. the excitement built up in her like air filling a balloon. there were nerves trapped within because this sense of curiosity and control was foreign.

would there be snow? 

what types of people would there be? 

how perfect does my english have to sound?

there were several wonders because south korea was engrained to her memory.  for the past eighteen years, korea was her home. there would be no more hanboks on seoullal, honorifics for friends, and (most importantly) her beloved family.  without her family, she wanted to venture on the outside on her own. yet, there would always be a yearn for the feeling of home. the universe finally served her freedom on a platter. she could finally leave the nest to fly.

was she ready for it?

“y/n, don’t forget that you won’t be alone. taemin goes to riverside too”, jimin’s loud mouth interrupted y/n’s thoughts.  soon enough, all her freedom had crashed and burned. she was caged once again. 

her imagination was left to torment her. when she heard his name, a roaring fire lit up within her because of her discomfort; the fire will never go out.

scars can heal, but y/n’s are deep as ever.  like an evergreen, scars can everlasting.

“taemin—i thought he was in new york?”, she questioned with a sense of worry. “i haven’t seen him since he graduated, and i don’t really like him at all. are you guys still friends? ”, an awkward laugh slipped out. she was quite uncomfortable at the mention of taemin, and her confession proved it all.

there was something about taemin that irked her soul. whether it was the memory of his being or thought of him physically, taemin would forever be an uncomfortable and undesirable person to talk about.

she remembers the day taemin walked in and out of her life.  

it seemed so sudden.

he never wanted to cause pain, but he left her with the sharpness of his trauma.  whatever was rooted in his cruel being had isolated her from her well being.

it was one thing for taemin to make y/n happy in secrecy. however, y/n had to suffer in secrecy once taemin had walked out because nobody knew the depth of her adoration for him.

jimin groaned before taking a deep breath to keep his composure. “one, taemin has been my best friend since 2015. two, he had to transfer because he had a change of mind—”, he let out a brief laugh, “well, that’s what he says—and three, it’s him or mom watching you.” 

he was taken aback by her dislike for his friend.  in his mind, he believed that y/n would be quite fond of a familiar face.  however, he let it go believing it was just another “girl problem.”

little did he know, taemin was a disaster that filled y/n’’s life with hundreds problems. 

jay-z once said, “i got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one.” for y/n, taemin was the 99 problems and she was “the bitch.”

the seriousness in jimin’s tone was irritating to y/n, almost strangle-worthy. he doesn’t understand her dislike for him. in fact, he has a “bromance” with taemin.

to others, taemin is a cool and collected young man that seemed shy to the world while being confident to his friends.  jimin often saw his confident side, and that allowed jimin’s mind to feel as if taemin was heavenly.

to jimin, taemin had an aura about him that he couldn’t explain.  it drew him in. 

maybe it was because he was simply older than jimin.  or, he could’ve just been build with extra charm.

as much as y/n didn’t like jimin’s praise for taemin, she didn’t want her mom babysitting her because she is simply too grown to have her around. sometimes mother’s can be suffocating; they can control many aspects of your life.  it was a valid fear for y/n to have, and she was scared that jimin was going to follow in those footsteps.

jimin didn’t know any history between taemin and y/n.  he doesn't know she constructs taemin to be evil because he took advantage of her innocence. sadly in her heart, she believes the thought of him is bad for her health because he hurt her.

taemin is a monster. an emotionless, compassionless man who does not know how to love.

but, everyone is naive because they don’t understand his evil like y/n does.  

taemin does put up a front to the world, while y/n gets to see all of him at her own risk.

“i love mom, but you’re right”, she laughed in agreement. for jimin’s sake, y/n lied to him and herself, “i’ll take taemin any day.”

“yeah, but don’t forget to wear a mask. nobody wants covid in the states. you don’t have insurance”, jimin scoffed before y/n hit his back playfully.

jimin yelped in pain, “literally what the fuck? you’re a demon.”

 september 20th, 2021

the plane to california was unbearably long and did not comfort her senses.  although she did not mind wearing a mask, the uncertainty of her health on that flight kept her up the full thirteen hours. everyone was spaced out, but the enclosed space made her claustrophobic. normally, her senses are grounded. however, the pandemic blows everyone out of proportion and brings out a little bit of paranoia as well.

y/n was wearing a pink surgical mask to contrast with her plain wardrobe. before she left for california, she chose a long black coat, oversized uc riverside hoodie, and black jeans with her basic converse. she was trying to blend in with every other college freshman on move-in day.

a memory flew into her mind. while on the plane, the remembrance of what home felt like tugged at her.  the pain of missing someone never settled inside of her; the feeling was foreign because the past experiences weren’t genuine. or maybe, she is uncomfortable with missing someone or something because of insecurity within.

before y/n left, her mom hugged her tightly before sending her off with tears; love can be unconditional when it comes to your family.  on the other hand, y/n heard jimin laugh at his mom while giving a wave goodbye; hiding your worries with comedy makes you more worried at times. jimin was obviously good at hiding himself, but he made himself overly awkward this time.

when she knew she was saying goodbye, y/n didn’t feel anything because leaving was thought out to be normal. her mind didn't think her immigration would be sad. it was surprising to see her mother sad, but also the uncomfortable atmosphere jimin brought.

a ding from the intercom sounded off, “we will be beginning our decline to los angeles.  the fastened seat belt sign is now on for your personal safety. please remain seated during this time”, the voice was followed by another ding via the intercom.

as the plane began its descent, y/n gripped one of her armrests while closing her eyes. sadly, the feeling of traveling alone was brand new, not in a bad way. perhaps, the butterflies her stomach arose because she was going to be around a familiar face that makes her uncomfortable.

y/n wishes to hide away the memories of the two of them as if their world's never collided. in her mind, lee taemin was just another problematic teenage memory to get rid of

in summer 2018, the air was different. it was heavy, and the atmosphere was lethargic.  in the moment, y/n felt specifically upset as if the universe decided to rip out a significant amount of reality; the universe ripped something out, indeed.

lee taemin, long-term lover, graduated early behind her back.  suddenly, he is getting up to leave for new york. 

“i can’t believe you are leaving for college already”, her teeth bit her bottom lip before she felt his warmth encase her. tears were pouring down her face while creating a hurricane of bleeding makeup and anger.  “you can’t keep doing this to me. you told me no more fucking secrets!”, she gripped onto his waist before silently crying into him.

“i think you knew that this was bound to happen”, taemin brought a hand to her face, caressing her cheek to wipe away the tears. “the only difference between you and i is that we’ll be boarders apart.”

“i didn’t know this was your plan. you just dropped this huge ass bomb on me today!”, she aggressively pulled his hand down to suddenly push him away.  “taemin, this isn’t just about you. my love for you is real.”, she took a breath to let out a sarcastic laugh. 

“i love you”, her heart ached saying those words.  more tears came out of her eyes before she quietly croaked out with a general shakiness in her demeanor, “do you feel the same way at all?”

taemin shook his head, scoffing slightly. he grazed the back of her hand with his lips. no words were exchanged between them.

y/n was standing there confused, waiting for him to say something. even if the words were, "i don't love you."

however, his response never came, and his thoughts seemed distant. it was like taemin resisted y/n's desire and compassion for him.

the silence between the two filled the air. it finally hit her that his love was no longer apparent, and his place in their relationship became nonexistent.

just like that, taemin walked out the door breaking y/n’s heart as if it was glass. from her eyes, it truly didn’t feel as if he gave a damn to begin with. 

it was unreal, but most definitely her reality.

in her mind she is screaming because taemin makes her feel alive in the worst way possible. he is unbearable to think about because he is a reminder of everything that has gone wrong with love.

he is only a distant memory that she wishes to burn.

fuck love.

but most importantly— fuck you, lee taemin.

[cosmiclatte28]

6 Shots of Coffee (Jaemin x you + Dreamies)

a/n: I am back! With a sudden wild oneshot. Please be aware that this is purely fan-fiction. Anything happening here is mere pure imagination. I did not intend to connect any disorders with the idols in real life.

Warning : characters with disorders, a lot of dozing off characters, character with slight adhd (i tried my best to picture them correctly but I’m sorry if everything is wrong, i only did a short research). Mentions of orphanage, drunk parents, and a broken family. HAPPY ENDING! 

CHARACTERS : dream (minus Hyuck and Mark), Taeyong, and Yuta also our brave (y/n)! 

here we go, 

If there are three things in life you hate, that will be Jaemin, Jaemin, and oh god another team assignment with Jaemin!

Jaemin has been the most excruciating classmate you ever have! Not only did he tease you about your freakin need of keeping things in their proper place and keeping things spotless, but he also keeps using you to help him pass his classes. Yet no teacher minds your complain, and all the school girls think you're a freak for being mad about sharing a group project with the handsome guy.

No you’re not sick or weird. You just love organizing things and you like clean things a bit too much. Why? Coz you've had some bad memories with dirty things. Okay Jaemin is just another naughty kid in your class who likes to play and have fun with others, but you certainly did not find his jokes funny.

“Come on calm down (y/n)! It's only coffee, we can clean that.” Jaemin tries to laugh it off despite seeing you standing completely frozen in front of him with an empty cup and you with a  brown uniform. Although you clearly see there is a slight worry in his eyes.

You hold yourself back. How come the worst day has to become worse?! You woke up to period cramps, you forgot a homework thanks to late night distracted room cleaning, and as you were about to rush to type your homework in the library, Jaemin decided to meddle and spill his coffee on your white uniform.

A part of you want to scream and yell and pull his hair apart, but you're too tired to talk with Jaemin. Let alone think about Jaemin, there's just so many things you hate related to Jaemin.

Despite him trying his best to apologize and to help you wash your clothes, which is something new… Jaemin never cared if he messed up with you. You ended up slapping his hand away when he wants to drag you to the office to ask a spare uniform.

“Go away! I have to rush,” you push him aside with your shoulder and run to the library. Knowing so well you'll probably get another minus score and a weird look from the library thanks to your stained uniform.

You hate the feeling of sitting down with this coffee stained shirt, and as much as you want to open that shirt and change into something else, you don’t have the energy. So, after sitting down on the table with the library's laptop you stare into the keyboard only to focus more on your uniform and the least wanted thing happens.

You cry. You cry by yourself in the corner of the room and you don’t really mind the stare they give. You just want to end life here, can anyone just stab you? Or can the ground split and swallow you?

There’s another thing you hate other than Jaemin meddling with your ugly life. It's dirt and unorganized objects. Why? Well you were once a very regular kid, always playing in the rain mud and all kinds of sand. You don’t mind having dirt all over your body you know when you go home you can shower. That's until you grow up and notice how your family is different. Your parents look like they are okay, but every night you hear them argue and argue. The argument gets stronger and scarier, they shout, scream, throw things down and you were always awaken to the no longer comfy homey house. You realize one day you woke up to seeing your dad getting drunk, your mother depressed, and the house super dirty like a tornado just hold a party. It’s awful to wake up to the smell of cigar and alcohols instead of bacons and eggs. You had to keep one plate with you or else it will end up like its friends, lifeless, prickly, sharp, on the ground.

Your maid stopped working, you're moved to a new school, this middle school where you meet Jaemin and some other annoying problematic students. Your once colorful life turned dark and gloomy. No longer you woke up to morning kiss and breakfast. You find yourself sitting alone in the dining room, preparing your own sandwich from some cheap dry bread. No more nutella and you're grateful for butter.

You tried to understand, keeping all to yourself as you grow up and noticed your family is broken. You thought everything will get better, one day mom and dad will love each other again and you'll be back with the bright family you love.

Life is not that kind. Life is cruel, on your 14th birthday your dad left for another woman and your mother dropped you off to an orphanage. She said she can no longer pay for your school and living fees. Heck she even had to borrow money to buy you your monthly pads.

The cheerful friendly you turned 180° into a mournful secretive teenager. You hate everyone who looks bright and you hate every single dirt. Seeing unorganized things and dirty objects just remind you of the dark memories you want to forget.

The orphanage found your smart talent and you got a scholarship making you still able to attend the school. The orphanage you live in has a rule where there is a schedule for cleaning up and preparing dish. You meet a similar boy who has the same problem with you; just that he looks like he had overcome his bitterness and chooses to live a happy life. Which you deadly want to do but cannot.

Renjun, is the only person you talk to in that house. The adults taking care over you, still cannot make you talk comfortably with him and you're not planning to do any sooner.

“Hey, it's me. Should we make a letter to the office and go home?” Renjun's soft voice comes to your ear and you look up to him with blood red eyes.

“How long have I been crying?” you sniffle.

He shrugs his shoulder “I just came an hour ago when I noticed you're missing Chemistry class and Jaemin too. I thought he was with you.”

You scowl “Why would I be with Jaemin?”

Renjun scratches his head “I don’t know… you were always assigned a team with him… I thought both of you are rushing a task.”

“I am having a bad day.” You exhale.

Renjun shakes his head “That is more than a bad day. Here, put this on that coffee is hot or cold?” he gives you his school blazer and you gladly put it over your stained uniform.

You sigh, of course Renjun noticed. He is also like you, despise any single speck of dust.

“Jaemin spilled his cold coffee on me. Now I am late to submit my work, I'll never get the essay done and I am skipping classes. GREAT! Looks like I will be kicked out of school next week.”

Renjun shakes his head again “Silly, you're dramatic. They won’t kick you just because of that. What about your achievements?”

You scoff “They can always find another better painter. I could barely tell difference in colors.”

Renjun smiles well that’s what makes you different. The school honors your brilliant talent of drawing although you have a hard time distinguishing colors. But your emotions are well delivered on every picture you paint. That gives honor to the school when the art teacher secretly sent your works to different curators and exhibitions.

“Come, we will go home. I'll make your letter. Can you wait for me in the lobby by yourself?” Renjun smooths your hair away.

You shake your head and clearly looks afraid “Can I join you?”

He nods and lets you go with him, blaming himself for ever offering you that option.

You got home, Renjun fixes your mood by giving you new clothes. Yes, as simple as that, and you’re already less scarier than before. He makes you tea when he saw the circled date on the calendar and drops you some pain killers.

“It's that month, sorry for not noticing had I known, I'd bring you home when I heard Jaemin looking for you around the school.”

You pause from cutting the potatoes, well you need to start cooking dinner for the others. “Jaemin looked around for me?”

Renjun nods “Uh huh that's also how I know something is not right. Jaemin never looked for you except when he needs your score.”

You curl your lips “Weird. He also wanted to bring me to the office, which he never did before.”

Your sudden emotional change is a regular thing to Renjun. Although at first he has to bear with your monthly exploding sensitivity since you're the first teenage girl in this house, Renjun manages to tame you down when he calmly offer you a cup of warm chamomile tea you love.

“Maybe it’s the coffee.” You shrug it off. Come to think of it, you never see the school selling coffee but Jaemin always brings his cup of super dark coffee.

“Oh home early?” Taeyong, the oldest son of the orphanage owner, greets you both. Well Taeyong is like the head matron here, every school letter directed to him and every new kid will meet him.

“It's not her day. I brought her home before she spent another day dozing off in the school's garden.” Renjun whispers to Taeyong and the older just nods his head.

“Oh! Did I mention to you we will have a new family tonight? Please be nice, he comes from this neighborhood and we actually had been waiting for his arrival since last month, but he always escaped before his vise parents want to drop him here.

You grow annoyed at this news. Well you don’t really like having to act kind and good in front of the others. Especially when meeting new members. Taeyong always asked you to at least be welcoming and less patronizing but you cannot keep your resting bitch face to yourself.

“I might as well skip dinner.” You taunt at Taeyong “No way I am acting kind in front of that person when I had a shitty day.”

Taeyong just hums to your threat, it is nothing new. You're a stone heart and he doesn’t want to have to slap you because of your stubbornness.

“I don’t mind. Just try to be welcoming, he had a rough time too.” Taeyong waves his hand and disappears behind his study room.

“I wonder who is going to join us. Our dining table is empty after Mark and Hyuck got adopted.” Renjun is excited to welcome the new family, maybe because he really likes it better here and therefore, he wants to make sure everyone else is welcomed.

Unlike you who still can't swallow the bitter truth. For you, your real family was the best, yet you didn’t know when everything started to fall apart.

The other comes home, you see Jisung, Jeno, and Chenle coming from the backyard and you hide yourself back on your room. Dinner is ready they just have to heat it up. The stew.

You close your window and come back to sit in front of your paper. Trying to remember what project you missed and have to do.

You look around the room, you used to have a bigger room, but after Taeyong knew you cannot stay still when there are mess, he moved you to a smaller room where you cannot store so many things. He said its for your own good. He doesn’t want you to stress yourself and distract your studies just to clean things up.

You feel your stomach rumbling but when you hear the noisy sound downstairs, you remember the new family. Actually, you are curious, so you sneak from your room and take a peek from the walls.

Your mind might be playing tricks on you, you rub your eyes and focus more to the familiar man in the same uniform as yours. You want to doubt it, but when you hear Jisung repeats his name you want to jump away from this house and run far away.

Life must have hated you so much to send Na Jaemin not only to your school but also to your “house".

Although you try to ignore him, your mind wonders what makes him come here. He looks like he is okay, only naughty, but he doesn’t look like an orphan.

“Dinner?” Yuta, Taeyong's younger brother asks you when he was about to go down and greet Jaemin.

You quickly gasp and shake your head before making a quick run to lock yourself in your room.

You try to think of any reason why Jaemin is here… from dinner to nine you cannot think of doing other thing rather than fiddling with your pen as you let your brain wonder and wonder.

Only around twelve did you suddenly jolt and realize you've wasted another night without doing your paper. You hear a step on the squeaky floor, and you have to stay quiet. Taeyong and Yuta wouldn’t like seeing you still awake this late. However, you don’t recognize the footsteps. Must be Jaemin’s.

The next morning, you escape earlier from the house. Leaving before breakfast for the sake of not meeting Jaemin. You're still mad at him and you hate him. You hate him for giving you hard times at school and now at “home".

You were waiting in the class when suddenly Jaemin comes into the class with a nervous face. You wonder did he just see a ghost? Jaemin really looks out of his place. Did he finally realize he is thrown away to the orphanage? Or did he finally realize you're secretly writing foot notes to the teacher that Jaemin is only leeching on your grades? Did he get called by the office?

You try your best to stop distracting your mind and continue working your essay. Thank goodness you can submit the work when the teacher leaves the class, only then did you see Jaemin's frozen state on his chair.

“Jaem?” you surprise yourself too for calling out his name. He also looks surprised.

“Yes?” he puts on his damn sickening pretty smile back like he always did to other students.

“Erase that smile. It's creepy.” You mutter and the other girls in your class is wanting to end you up there and then.

“Sorry, it’s just that… I … I didn’t get my coffee this morning.”

You raise your brow, oh right. Taeyong and Yuta are not giving us caffeine until we are 20.

You raise a brow “And? Can’t you skip once?”

His feet thump on the floor and he looks around nervously “You're right. I- don’t mind me.” He stands up and suddenly leaves you with bigger question mark in your head.

He sure is weird. What’s wrong with skipping one cup of that bitter liquid?

--

“(Y/n)! Come let's go home.” Renjun greets you on the lobby as you wait for the youngers to come too.

“Noona, you should meet Jaemin hyung! He is so sweet last night!” Jisung tugs on your uniform.

You frown and shudder your shoulder “Jisung, I hate that man.”

Jeno just laughs at your words and at Jisung's surprised expression “So, should we wait for him?”

You click your tongue “Actually that weird man left class after the first session and did not come back to class. Maybe he ran away. Let's go before it rains.” You start leaving the lobby, but no one follows you.

“Is it because of us?” Jisung worriedly asks his brothers.

Renjun thinks for a while “You mean what happened this morning?”

Jisung nods. Your ear can still hear them, for they start walking after you too. You have to hold yourself from turning around and asking them what happened this morning that made him weird!

When the five of you enter the house, that's when your brain finally clicked on what Jaemin must be suffering.

There in the middle of the living room, is Jaemin looking so uncomfortable as he forces his hand to write on a paper with a textbook opened by his side, but what comes out of his hand is just scribbles of lines and curves and he looks like he is painting instead of writing an essay.

“So damn hard to be productive!” he suddenly throws his pen and pulls his hair. All five of you are shocked to see this. Even you! You never see this side of Jaemin in school.  He always looks like the charming prince every girl’s crush, but this is definitely not the same man.

His lips are trembling, limbs unable to stop shaking and he looks in pain. And he starts to hit himself as if scolding his body for not cooperating.

You are in awe and you have to quickly usher Jisung and Chenle away.

“Jaemin! Calm down okay.” Jeno and Renjun quickly stand by his side and tries to keep the boy from hitting himself.

You bring Jisung and Chenle to their rooms while your head is quickly thinking of what to do. You sure see he is panicking and he's throwing tantrum. Taeyong and Yuta are not here yet but when you see your reflection on the window with a clean uniform suddenly your mind reminds you of the incident yesterday.

Coffee. Na Jaemin needs coffee. As silly as it sounds, you've read somewhere that coffee can help someone with ADHD or something like that. You're not sure, but you want to give it a chance. You run to your room, break your saving jar and pick out the bills you've been saving.

“Jaemin, how many shots?” you ask him when you pass through him.

Renjun and Jeno look at you with question in their face but Jaemin understands you and holds out a number with his hand.

Your eyes widen but you run to the nearest coffee shop, the one with the brand you always see Jaemin holding.

“Give me americano with six shots of espresso. Cold I don’t know with water or not.” You sound as mad as a hatter, but the barista seems to notice something.

“Are you by any chance taking an order for Jaemin?” he asks you nod your head baffled that he is a regular here until the shift knows his order and name.

“I was confused when the morning shift told me Jaemin skipped his coffee today. Alright i'll make it like how he always orders.” The man with a name tag Mark punches the bill and gives you the amount.

You don’t mind paying such high price for the black bitter drink you never like, as soon as Mark hands you the drink you walk as fast as you can back to the house.

You see Renjun waiting for you in the porch and he looks pale.

“Where did you go?! I was worried.” Renjun almost scolds you for leaving suddenly.

You walk past him “Jaemin! I have your coffee.” You yell at him, who is currently staring on the TV that's off. Jeno is still sitting next to him, afraid that Jaemin will do anything dangerous.

Jaemin's eyes widen as he quickly takes over the drink and gulp it down like his life depends on it.

All three of you wait for him to finish half of his drink and like magic, Jaemin looks calmer.

He closes his eyes and leans on the couch. His head rests on the small pillow Jeno tosses to him and you can see his usual self back.

After ten minutes, he opens his eyes stretches his body and like a robot who has his reset button pressed, Jaemin shoots a “what?” look to the three of you.

“Sorry if I freaked all of you out. I…” he shyly scratches his head “I have a minor ADHD and … coffee seems to be helping me focus and calm down.”

Now everything clicks. You understand why the teacher actually always assigned you with him, because no one else can handle Jaemin as patient as you and you're too blunt to notice he has his own trouble. You understand why he always brings a coffee to the class and why he looks calm when he has them. Unlike yesterday when he spilled it over you, you clearly see a slight terror in his eyes, and he disappeared from class. Maybe he was shy of showing his true self in class. You now know the reason he skipped class today because of the lack of caffeine and you just didn’t know he is also as wrecked as you guys.

That night, Jaemin knocks on your door and invites you to join dinner.

“You skipped dinner last night, I don’t know if it’s because I was there… and yesterday I was really ruining your day. I'm sorry I wasn’t a good friend too at school.” Jaemin speaks rather in a calm tone and you're taken aback he can speak in a soft kind voice and not the high pitch annoying teasing voice you regular get in school.

You're flustered, but you quickly put back your cold face “It's okay. T'was my fault too not looking the way.  Don’t worry I skipped dinner last night coz I am not hungry.” You lied.

No way you were going to spill the truth to him, not when you already know how hard his days are. He was not as bright and happy as he looks like.

“Renjun told me last night everything about you. I am so sorry…I didn’t know my jokes were very painful and disturbing to you. I should’ve stopped but you know I sometimes cannot hold my brain back.” Chuckles Jaemin nervously.

You sigh and place a hand on his shoulder “Life is hard right?” He nods his head and you squeeze his shoulder, “We also find it hard. But at least we're not alone now. We have each other and the others too. I am also sorry for picking on you to the teacher for leeching my score, but I promise I won’t do that again. I'll help you Jaemin.” You smile sincerely to him.

His face brightens “You're the best! I always have hard time focusing! Well coffee helps me, but still it's not healthy.”

You take his hand in yours “Na Jaemin, you're a part of our family now. Since we're family, we will get each other's back! Don’t worry things will be okay and you too will be okay!”

He Smiles and that is a new smile you've ever seen on him. A smile that's pure and true. That shows he too is also a human who can feel pain not just the angelic handsome boy in class.

“We should eat. The others are waiting,” Chenle's appearance in the hallway makes you and Jaemin turn your heads to him.

“She's right. We're family, now family eats dinner, together right? Come on! Taeyong hyung got us some pizzas for your welcome party.” Chenle drags the taller man's hand which automatically pulls you too.

A smile comes to your face when you realize just how perfect this imperfect family is!

Yes you also struggled focusing on a certain job, yes you also hate messy stuffs, yes it's true Renjun took three months to open his mouth and speak complete sentences, it also takes Jeno five months to be true about his feelings, and Jisung plus Chenle? They also have their fish to fry. Now Jaemin, is here with his own battle that will soon be shared within us.

Just like the famous quote, Ohana means family and family means no one is left behind.

Looking around the table, although you really wish you have a sister or a mother figure here, you're more than happy to call the 7 men your brothers and families.

end

please let me know if there are anything I can fix. I am trying a new genre and it’s a bit challenging but I am happy with finishing this. 

Contact or reach me out if you have any curiosity of what happens to the members or maybe you wonder what their problems are. 

Thank you for reading :D 🤗💖

[ellaofoakhill]

My Thoughts on Boxes

Something has kinda been bugging me the last little while, that I like to think a lot of people can relate to. We live in a society that, generally speaking, likes putting things into boxes; we like analyzing and sorting and organizing. And there’s nothing really wrong with that in and of itself--frankly, I could stand to do a lot more of it in the more practical aspects of my life--but such a system only really works with things that easily fit into discreet categories, and the things that aren’t or can’t be easily sorted are either forced into a box where they don’t fit, or left adrift without any real place to be.

In particular, I’m talking about fiction. You have numerous genres that multiply by the day, and the age categories that stories within those genres are deemed suitable for. And don’t get me wrong, there are lots of practical reasons for those categories; they make advertising and the organization of bookstores and libraries dramatically easier, and for most stories, this system works great, with each finding the audience most likely to derive benefit from reading it.

But--again, solely my opinion here--this may have produced stories that are a lot flatter than stories written in previous eras (which had their own problems, I will NOT get into that today). By flat, I don’t mean boring, or a failure of the story. I mean that the story feels like it was changed to fit into the category it most closely matched. In the most egregious examples, I feel like things were either added to a story that did nothing for it besides make it fit its box better, or taken out that were either integral to the story or added a depth and breadth to it that improved the work overall, even if that made it harder to sort.

This makes me think of the Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch quote, “Murder your darlings”, but completely opposite to what he was getting at. The general interpretation is “Even if you like a given piece of writing/painting/sculpture/etc., if it does more bad than good for your work, you need to remove it for the sake of the art.” What I feel is happening is “You need to change your story so it fits the target demographic, no matter what it looks like at the end.” The former serves the story and its spirit; the latter sacrifices the story for... I don’t know, ease of advertising, perhaps? Certainly financial gain is involved there.

So my first argument against this jaded, greedy way of thinking runs thus. Look at the stories that are now considered classics of Western literature: look at Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice; look at White Fang and Call of the Wild; look at Dracula and Frankenstein; look at The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia (no, I couldn’t resist throwing in two classic fantasy titles, and no, I won’t apologize for it). If you haven’t read these stories, you probably should. Yes, they have problems that mark them as products of their time, but every last one of them has one thing in common: none of them were written with a box in mind. We’ve thought of lotr as a fantasy staple for so long that we’ve forgotten that, prior to its popularity, fantasy as a genre wasn’t really a thing. There were fairy-tales, yes, and stories with fantastical elements, but a genre of story with precise conventions? Not really.

Let’s zoom in on Tolkien’s work, for a moment. Look at his world and its origins, and it draws heavy inspiration from Old English and Scandinavian myths and legends. Look at his characters, in particular his four hobbits, and he drew from his love of the English countryside, his respect for the common working man (Sam, the gardener, literally carries Frodo, the wellbred young gentleman, on his shoulders in the final leg of their gruelling journey to the Cracks of Doom), and his horrific experiences in the First World War. Hilariously enough, a big part of the reason he wrote the stories was as a self-justification for his indulgence in and lifelong love affair with language invention (look at the huge appendices at the back of The Return of the King and tell me I’m lying!). Read his work and any and all interviews with him, and a “genre box” seems clearly to have never crossed his mind.

Putting aside the genre box for a moment, let’s talk age categories. The Hobbit was a story he invented for his children, and it does show. Look at the Lord of the Rings, and it is clearly at a higher level of reading comprehension, and written for a more mature audience; there’s less silliness, though he keeps the wonder at this wild, magical world. But where to put it? The hobbits run a spectrum from basically teenagers (Pippin) to almost middle age (Frodo is in his fifties when he embarks on his journey to Rivendell), yet they’re clearly his protagonists, though we also see some narration revolving around Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, all of whom are adults, though the latter two are somewhat younger for their respective races, whereas Aragorn is in his eighties (this being offset somewhat by the fact that he lives to over two hundred, but I digress...). We’re told today (falsely; VERY falsely) that the main character(s) should match the age of their target audience. Where does lotr fit, then, in terms of age category?

The answer you’re looking for is: not really very well anywhere; at least, not according to modern convention. As for my personal experience, I could and did read both The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion at age thirteen. I consider myself a fairly intelligent young man, but I was varying degrees of lost when I read those. When I re-read them as an adult I was fine, but that isn’t to imply that teens shouldn’t be reading lotr, far from it. There’s nothing in them content-wise one wouldn’t reasonably expect a teenager to handle, and there’s a lot of good, powerful story and commentary in there that’s relevant to this day.

My point is, the age category doesn’t really matter. If I may shamelessly plug my own work for a moment, when I was first writing tftem, and even as I’m editing and publishing it now, I wondered and still wonder about this age category business. There is nothing in these stories I’d consider inappropriate for kids, and anyone above the age of about 8, with perhaps a slight stretch to their vocabulary, could comfortably read every story beginning to end. Further complicating matters, my beta readers ranged from 8 to almost 80, and most of the spectrum in between. They all liked it; whether they liked it for the same reasons is moot.

Which leads me into my second argument against boxing and categorizing stories. The boxes aren’t very reliable. If I may change media for a moment, cultural convention says, as an adult, there is only a narrow sleazy strip of cartoon entertainment I should be watching and enjoying. That tiny slice of the cartoon pie is the only slice I avoid like the plague. Yes, there are stories that don’t appeal to me because they’re too simplistic, or are problematic in ways that I find repellent, or just aren’t executed very well, but aside from things aimed at toddlers and the aforementioned “adult” cartoons, any cartoon is fair game. Give me an interesting concept, or a fascinating character, or hell just give me a good laugh or line of dialogue or beautiful fight scene, and I’ll give it a try.

My point is (yes I had one, and no, believe it or not I didn’t forget it), don’t write or draw or create with a box in mind. You will murder the spirit of your darlings. The box does not exist to define what you, the writer, are allowed to do, or what you should do. At best, the box exists in hindsight, once the work is done, to tell your prospective audience whether your story was written for them. And even then, lots of fantastic stories don’t sit well in boxes. Some of them actively rip the boxes to pieces. Lotr is a story that transcends boxes, and as a result has many layers and rabbit-holes and nuances that you can pick up when you’re ready to appreciate them, however old you are. In many ways, it’s ageless.

I didn’t write tftem to emulate Tolkien, nor even as an homage to him, or C.S. Lewis, or anyone else. But I did want to write a similarly ageless story, a story that could be read and appreciated a hundred years from now, by an audience of eight-year-olds or octogenarians. Why did we ever start moving away from stories like this? They were the foundation of stories for as long as stories have existed on Earth. People are still reading and marvelling at The Epic of Bloody Gilgamesh!

Tl;dr: don’t try to force your stories into boxes; they suffocate. Write what you enjoy writing; chances are it’ll live longer.

[trulisthetic]

I had a bad day today. I did something stupid and got in an online argument with someone who told me that Jim and Pam were an unhealthy couple. I told her why I don't think that's the case without insulting her and got shot down anyway. What would you make of it?

This turned into a monster-post. Oops.

First and foremost, I’m really sorry that you had a bad day. My understanding is that that “someone” wasn’t very kind and respectful to you even though you were towards them. You know, the internet is such a wild place. Under the cover of online profiles we create for ourselves we sometimes act in ways we wouldn’t in real life. We forget that there is an actual person on the other end and not a heartless machine. And being on the receiving end of that... well, it sucks. I’m sorry you had to deal with that today.

I get that you feel like you did something stupid - because yes, online arguments don’t often get us anywhere, they only end up frustrating us, even hurting us sometimes. But trust me when I tell you this: If you were respectful and didn’t insult her, then you did absolutely nothing wrong. This wasn’t your fault. They’re the only ones accountable for their behavior. I get that you feel off right now, but really, all you can do from this point forward is; just keep swimming :P 

All that aside, not everyone is going to agree on everything at that is granted. And it is okay. That’s what makes the people that think like us and share our interests so special and beautiful in our eyes, you know? It’s okay if somebody on the internet doesn’t think Jim and Pam are a healthy couple. Maybe they trigger something for them - a reminder of a past relationship that didn’t end well. Or maybe there is no reason for it - this is just the way they view it. All of those are fine, everyone is entitled to an opinion. I would even be interested in hearing them out, because, honestly, I can’t think of how Jim and Pam’s relationship could possibly be considered unhealthy. But from what I understand - and correct me if I’m wrong! It’s just what I got from the way you phrased your question - the person you argued with didn’t really have many points themselves, they were just arguing for the sake of arguing, finding problems when there really weren’t any. And that’s what’s really problematic. When people go out and shout accusations of unhealthy and problematic and abusive relationships, all they do is make a fool out of the REAL problematic and abusive ones. And that’s the true tragedy in all this.

Now onto Jim and Pam themselves. It never even occurred to me that this would be an issue; their relationship being considered ‘unhealthy’.

Since day one, Jim and Pam have always ALWAYS brought out the best in one another. And I believe that anyone who argues on this point in particular has been watching a different show. I mean seriously, they were written this way. Their love was, to its core, written to be of the purest kind. They have a strong base as friends, which is the best foundation you can have in a relationship. And they’ve always been each other’s “person”, since the first season. The one they turn to every time they have a problem, like when Pam is frustrated with Roy, or when Jim dies of boredom. They’re partners in crime, their time together is full of the most awe-worthy combination of mischief and touching moments, and just... joy. Have you seen two people happier to just be with each other’s presence? Have you seen anyone’s eyes light up the way Jim’s does every time Pam “chooses him” when she’s “bored” or when she tells him he has “very nice teeth”? Have you seen on anybody else's face that wide smile (with the tongue peeking between the teeth) that Pam gets every time Jim takes a second too long to choose a jellybean flavor, or buys her a coke for a round of jinx? Those two bring the greatest amount of joy to each other, while doing the smaller, most insignificant things. The only thing that could possibly make them wrong would be if their relationship was toxic.

And Jim and Pam’s relationship is not toxic.

Let's look at some signs of a toxic relationship okay?

It feels bad. All the time. Well. I kinda just went through that. The only times it’s felt bad for them was when they were apart, in season 3 mostly, and then in season 9. And yes, they had marital problems. So, SO many couples do, if not every single one. They handled one situation poorly, and it backfired on them, and they drifted apart. And then they found their way back to each other. At this point, I want to quote one of my favorite pieces of writing, ever. I use it a lot, but it applies here so perfectly, so... @acutelesbian said: “A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.” A while later, she reblogged her own post and added: “I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class. After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort. She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice. Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation. The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with. The divorced ones said they chose to walk away. Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days. I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.” There it is. So. Jim and Pam had some issues during season 9. They didn’t communicate well, they made some poor choices, they didn’t handle the situation they were thrown in very gracefully. And yet they made a choice, the choice to stay and push and fight for their relationship. They went to therapy, together. They opened up, discussed their feelings, communicated, worked out a solution. They chose each other, even though at the time they weren’t each other’s favorite person. They went through a rough patch and came out of it together, stronger than ever. And HAPPY. If that’s not the epitome of a healthy relationship, then I don’t know what the fuck is. Having said all that, I think I also covered these signs of a toxic relationship:

You avoid saying what you need because there’s just no point. 

There’s no effort.

Nothing gets resolved.  So let's move on to the next ones.

You’re constantly braced for the ‘gotcha’. This is for when there’s a trap in every statement or question, and even though everyone makes mistakes, yours are used as proof that you’re too uninvested, too wrong, too stupid, too something. And this is seriously as far from Jim and Pam as humanly possible. They’re seriously the exact opposite of that, always lifting each other up and supporting one another through their mistakes. 

When ‘no’ is a dirty word. “I think I want a wedding-wedding.” “Cranford? No.” “I don’t know if I want this.” “I don’t think you should go to Philly tonight.”

The score card. Let me show you how wrong you are. Before they were together, they both had some “weak” moments, during which they didn’t exactly act fairly. Not once in all these years have we EVER seen one call the other out on their past mistakes. They’re not keeping score, they’re discussing them, dealing with them and moving on. There isn’t a more mature way to go about this.

There’s a battle – and you’re on your own. Again. In every chance they get, in any problem they face with third persons, they always stand by the other’s side and lift them up and support them. Just like when Pam was there for Jim when Ryan made his life hard in s4, or when Dwight terrorized him with the snow in s7. And just like when Jim made the list for Pam when Robert California set her aside, or when he demanded answers by her side from the dude who did call “a dork like that” back. Those two are a team, and not just when they’re planning ways to prank Dwight, or they’re sharing looks across the room over how ridiculous Michael is being.

Privacy? What privacy? Oh, I LOVE this one about them. How they get to be individuals and they are not defined by one another. They get their private time, private hobbies, and that’s such a healthy part of a relationship that so many just overlook. The only time that wasn’t the case was when they were using the world’s smallest Bluetooth - but it was so obvious that they were both craving it so much because they were missing each other, and they were both more than comfortable with it. Until that conversation with her classmate happened, which I’m sure signaled the end of that way of communication for them. But remember all those months they were apart? Remember how Jim TURNED BACK halfway to New York because “I’m not that guy. And we’re not that couple”? Remember how respectful they’ve always been of each other’s need for privacy?

The lies. Oh the lies! The only lie between the two (If you don’t count the “I can’t” of Casino Night and the “It was three years ago. I’m totally over it.” of The Secret) was when Jim didn’t tell Pam that he started a business in Philly. Which he told her an episode late, by himself. And it served as the perfect opportunity to show just how steady the foundations of their relationship are, and how much they trust and faith they have in one another and in their love. I’ll never forget how Pam reacted to realizing that Jim is keeping something from her. She didn’t call him out or corner him for answers, she simply waited for him to tell her when he’s ready. Then when the idea of an affair was thrown on the table, Pam shrugged it off, saying “Jim? No. He loves me too much”. And it’s not easy to say that theoretically, much along actually act on it. But when in season 8 Kathy hit on Jim while they were in that hotel, there’s a deleted scene of Jim and Pam on the phone, and Pam is actually joking about the whole thing. It’s impressive and miraculous just how deeply these two trust each other, and believe that they would never hurt the other like that.

Physical or verbal abuse. Or both. We’ve seen Pam being handled roughly by Roy, and then we’ve seen the way Jim treats her, like she’s the most precious butterfly. And HEAVEN HELP ME, the guy was too scared to look at her for too long in the beginning. He’s the most gentle and caring man I’ve seen, in words and actions alike. And the very same goes for Pam. The only time she’s spoken badly to him was when she said “Shut it” as she was storming off Michael’s office when she found out he was dating her mom and Jim knew. And she was clearly very upset and not acting like herself. But we can all agree that this is not a pattern of behavior, and that Jim and Pam have NEVER, EVER been abusive towards one another.

Not including the other in big decisions. This is the only one that’s kinda true. Jim decided to buy his parents’ house, then decided to start a business, then Pam decided to sell the house, all without including the other. Despite those, that was an issue that they were not blind towards, and Pam even brought it up in season 9, and it was one of the problems they worked through at couples therapy. And that’s exactly what a healthy and mature relationship looks like.

So there you have it. Those are the main signs of an unhealthy relationship. Wanna hear the definition of a healthy one?

A healthy relationship is when two people develop a connection based on: Mutual respect. Trust. Honesty. Support. Fairness/equality. Separate identities. Good communication. A sense of playfulness/fondness.

In a healthy relationship you:

Take care of yourself and have good self-esteem independent of your relationship

Maintain and respect each other’s individuality

Maintain relationships with friends and family

Have activities apart from one another

Are able to express yourselves to one another without fear of consequences

Are able to feel secure and comfortable

Allow and encourage other relationships

Take interest in one another’s activities

Do not worry about violence in the relationship

Resolve conflict fairly: Fighting is part of even healthy relationships, the difference is how the conflict is handled. Fighting fairly is an important skill you help you have healthier relationships

Have respect for sexual boundaries

Are honest about sexual activity if it is a sexual relationship

Accept influence. Relationships are give and take; allowing your partner to influence you is important; this can be especially difficult for some men.

Trust each other and be honest with each other

Have the option of privacy

Now, let us all think each and every one of those through. And let’s think about it twice before we accuse perfectly healthy relationships of being toxic.

That’s all I have to say. Sorry, this was so long, and thank you for staying to this point!

All I know is that, for me, Jim and Pam’s relationship - along with that of my parents’ - is the healthiest one my eyes have ever seen. And I feel so lucky to have discovered those two gems. 💜

[akiameokami]

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Look at him, looking so smug as that curly-haired reject has her legs strewn across his lap. Potter. It just isn’t right for someone of his status to be with someone like her. He is a pureblood, she is muggle-born, and to make matters worse she has an eyebrow ring! Her poise certainly isn’t a redeeming quality either. I cannot see a single element that makes her good enough for him, expect perhaps that she is smart enough to put Raven Claw’s brightest to shame. If it wasn’t for her lack of professionalism and personal upkeep I am sure she would be in Raven Claw and not Gryffindor. She has changed him so much since they started dating. Potter used to be such a prince, but even since they got together he has been hanging out with anyone, even the problematic Weasleys. I can’t believe his parents let him do that, do they not care about how it will effect their status? Father always reminds me to be cautious of my social relations because they will effect him greatly. He would simply die if he saw me with someone adorned in chains such as Hermione chooses.  The brazed crème a top the shit soufflé is that Harry Potter got a tongue ring! His parent’s certainly know nothing of this, but for the first time ever, I think I may not make Father privy to this. Potter and I have been associates every since primary school, and the tongue ring is a secret to all but his inner most circle. Except somehow Ronald and Hermione have become the bulk of that circle since we entered Hogwarts. To think that first semester we picked out matching Slytherin class rings together, and he somehow became a Gryffindor like them. Maybe classes do divide people too definitively? Or maybe he is changing as a person.. He always did have an affinity for the muggle world and other oddities, I just never thought he’d choose them over me. 

“Hi Har- Er, Potter, and company”, I say awkwardly as I approach their group. They all go quiet as they look at me, the only green clad robe amongst a sea of red. I feel as if this griffons pride may swallow me whole. They seem to be waiting for Harry to respond before they pounce, he really has gone from a Prince to a King. 

“Draco!” Harry exclaims as he moves Hermione's legs off and stands to greet me. I go for a slight wave but he pulls me into a hug. I can feel the daggers from his entourage. “I haven’t seen you around school in a while, what has Snape been forcing you into this time?” He asked, staring only at me. I’d appreciate the opportunity to get lost in his viper green eyes, but I can’t hold his stair. He knows my distaste for Snape, but he doesn’t know why. It’s a story for another time, but he’d already know it if he’d never stopped talking to me. 

“Oh, no, Snape is no longer tutoring me. Instead of academic pursuits, I’ve decided to try out for the quidditch team. Seems they have taken a fancy to my flying skills!” it hurts to not tell him to truth, to see him go from someone who I could tell anything to, to having to smile through the biggest heart break I’ve ever had. When I mention quidditch he gets very excited, and his posse eases up a bit. It is not uncommon for groups of different classes to enthuse over quidditch together, it is one of the few social glues we have. “What a coincidence! I will be joining the quidditch team as a legacy next season!” he says very boisterously, “I know they are expecting a lot because of my father, but I think they will be pleasantly surprised. I did always win when we would race, right?” He says with a slap to my shoulder. To others this would look like a casual challenge, but for me that slight touch meant so much more. It brought back summers spent struggling to learn how to fly out behind the greenhouse. The time he carried me back to Mother after I was able to be the first to get off the ground and flew too high. 

“You’re right, you used to be much better than me. Who knows if it’s changed, maybe you could have a practice race with me and give me some pointers if I lose?”. This audacious bastard would never turn down a challenge, and despite knowing I will likely lose, it means we’d finally have a chance to spend some time together so I’m willing to “take the L” as his muggle friends would say. 

“Harry, that’d be awesome to watch!”, “Yea Harry darling, you should host a little Gryffindor versus Slytherin flying practice before the season starts!’ Ron and Hermione cheer him on from the background. The other Gryffindor's start to chime in on how they would love to see a friendly match and see how skilled the new flyers are. “Well Draco, what do you say? I’m game to leave all you snakes in the dust, but only if you think Slytherin has enough flyers to make it worth the effort”, he chuckles as he says it, but he squeezes my shoulder with a bit of aggression behind it. He didn’t want it to be a spectacle, but I’m not going to clean up his messes if he wont be my friend anymore. 

“Sure Harry, I think I can pull together some wizards and witches that will make it worth your precious time.” I flatly announce as I start to walk away. I make myself keep stepping forward, and I can hear their snickers behind me. I walk straight away from him, no not quite, I walk straight to Snape's office. I wonder if he knows the pain he puts me through? Being compared to the Potter-Prince growing up, Father pushing me to be better than him, Harry having the audacity to be such an amazing man, friend, and first. Yet he also has the power to be the person to put me through more pain by not being in my life, driving me to focus on my studies, to get Severus to be my tutor, to use Severus as a coping method to get over him. Do you know what you’ve done to me Harry? 

~~~Imagine a world where Harry didn’t grow up with the Dursley’s, where Voldermort wasn’t a thing, where Lily and James didn’t die. Would Draco and Harry have been friends? Would they have been more? Harry and Draco are 17, nearing graduation and independence, but that also means they are climaxing from their teenage angst and heartbreak. Will they get closure?

I approach Severus’s office, emotions flooding me. After Harry and I got accepted to Hogwarts and he started drifting away, I found myself lost. At first, I believed his excuses for why he bailed on our plans, and then I blamed myself thinking I made him mad, and then I realized he just didn’t like me anymore. The self blaming was the hardest to get over, but Severus helped with that. I chose to focus on my studies, I had to find something productive to do so that Father would be proud of me again. He got very angry when I messed up the connection with the Potters. I decided instead to try and be very academically accomplished, so I needed a good tutor. Father and Mother were both very familiar with Severus Snape and knew him as an intelligent man and an excellent wizard despite being only 6 years older than me. They arranged for him to be my tutor, and he lived much closer to the school than we did, which meant I would study at his house and in the summers I stay with him. Since he is also a teacher at Hogwarts we don’t ever interact politely as school, because frankly our relationship is unconventional. to the public. I don’t love him, he doesn’t love me, but we both have been burned by the Potters more than once and despite all our pain, we still love them. Don’t get me wrong, Rus is very good to me, and we have had some very sentimental memories, but I can never mean as much to him as Lily I don’t think. That and I am not willingly to fall in love. 

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*  - “Come in.” I walk in and instantly Rus’s face goes from stone cold to slightly softer. “Draco, I assume you came to speak about your last test scores?” He arches an eyebrow and nods at the door indicating I should close it. 

“Oh come on Rus, I know we have an arrangement to not interact extra here but I..” I close the door and try not to meet his eyes. I know what I am feeling, and its stupid! I can’t explain it though. He closes the door while reaching over me. With his other arm he pulls into a hug. 

“Use your words Draco.” He kisses the top of my head while whispering softly. I bury my face in his shirt. How do I tell him that I am hurting because the person who means the most to me, acknowledged me, and it left me feeling hollow? “Is it about Mr. Potter? I saw you speaking in the courtyard. That was dangerous.” I let out a shaky sigh. This is why we are together, because we share the same pain. 

“Yea..” I mutter, “We are going to have a little race between Slytherin House and Gryffindor to see who the faster upcoming flyers will be.” Even saying it sounds absolutely  ridiculous! It’s a bloody pissing contest! Yet nothing has been able to break me out of this numbness until now. Rus braces the small of my back as we lean against his office door. I look up to see him with a small smile, “I understand. I think this will be for the best. Whether it is closer you get, or simply a win. I be here if it goes wrong”. He is so consistent. Just as expected, after saying something so sweet that I could almost develop feelings, he leans down and begins a gentle kiss. He pulls my waist into him, spreading my legs with his knee. I kiss him back while running my fingers through his hair. I reach down for his belt, trying to undo it. He stops my hand and pulls back, “Now Mr. Malfoy, we are on school grounds.” He says with his stern, teacher voice. He the leans in and whispers, “You can show my what that Malfoy mouth is good for later”. I feel my dick jump a little bit, giving me a semi. This is how I cope. Feelings cannot negate the power of something physical, and Severus Snape needs to forget about the Potters just as much as I do. We were a match made in Hell. 

“Draco....” I hear Harry’s voice calling my name, but it sounds distorted, almost as if I’m underwater. “Draco!” it comes through clearly this time, but it isn’t Harry, It’s Blaise yelling at me to rouse me from my sleep. I had returned to the dorms embarrassingly late, but I had the forethought to lay out my quidditch gear ahead of time so I wouldn’t be scrambling in the morning. “Draco, wake the fuck up! We’re gonna be late to the race!” Blaise is still yelling but I can hear him heading for the door. Late? What did he mean late? I roll over and check the time, he was right, I had about five minutes to go from bed to the quidditch field. Fuck. 

“I almost thought you chickened out Draco!” Harry taunts as I approach the quidditch field, running as fast as I can with all my gear on. I was able to gather three other Slytherins that wanted to race, and who were marginally decent. Sadly Harry seemed to have a whole team that wanted to test us. I glance at Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle and they do not seem to be exuding confidence. I got them into this so the least I can do is be the one who people blame. “What? Run away from you Potter? I could never”, I say a little too seriously while making eye contact. I catch the slightest frown from Harry, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “Well then, lets get this over with. It sounded fun, but looking at your little group, it just feels like bullying.” He rejoins his group at the start line. The course was to make one large loop around campus while going through specified markers, such as looping through the womping willow and its thrashing limbs, and past Hagrids hut. It is just the school campus, but that doesn’t make it not dangerous. That is why I wore my protective gear, but as I glance around I see that most everyone else was casually dressed with the exception of Longbottom. He looked as if he was wrapped in bubble wrap. I don’t want to be associated with the likes of him so I discard my protective layer.  I return my attention to the other end of the field where Hermione stands with the flare, and off it goes. I must’ve been disassociating during the count down. I feel the wind of the others taking off before I see the bristles of their brooms when they speed past me. Shit. I take off as fast as I can, but I am not too concerned about the starting line. Anyone can get up, its staying there that’s the problem. 

The first obstacle is the peaks of the school, where we stand the danger of Mr. Fletcher seeing us and everyone getting in trouble. This obstacle is more about stealth than speed, you could speed right through the peaks, but you would certain alarm everyone inside the castle. The trick to making it without being seen is to pay attention and roof hop, taking a break to wait out anyone who may see you. I can see ahead of me where two Gryffindor flyers drop altitude instantly, nearly getting caught. I swerve away from that tower and loop around the other way, hopping off the roof after checking the next peak. When I emerge from the other side of the peaks I see Harry far ahead, Ronald right behind him, and Blaise  on their tail. either no one else made it through, or they are behind me, because no one would be ahead of Harry. We approach Hagrids hut and drop down low for the loop, I see Blaise take the turn too tightly and have to drop to the ground to prevent himself from going tip over tail. Ronald falls behind me as he flew too close to the hippogriff and got the tail of his broom snipped out. The race is between Harry and I as we approach the womping willow. It is especially crabby today it seems, or perhaps that was just because I was actually flying closer too it and not away from it the way I would have preferred. As we near the willow I am close enough that I could grab the bristles on Harry’s broom if I wanted to. I follow his maneuvers dodging the willows grasps. There is no denying that when it comes to agility Harry has an edge on me. There is no doubt that James took the time to train him personally. Despite all his preparation I see Harry narrowly avoid getting swept by a branch, which meant I had no time to avoid the branch at all. The willow makes contact with my broom and sends me plummeting to the ground. I’d rather jump and break something, that be strangled by a tree. The impact knocks the breath out of me, and the pain floods my body. My vision goes black and once again I feel like I am in bed, floating into nothingness. 

“Draco?!?!” I hear Harry’s voice calling out to me, but I don’t respond. Blaise wont fool me again. He just wants me to wake up from my peaceful nothingness. Then the pain hits me and I remember what happened. I open my eyes to see a sweaty and shirtless Harry tying my arm in a makeshift sling. “Draco.. please say something..” He mutters as he struggles with the knot. 

“Ouch you bloody bastard, that fucking hurts!” I squeak as he tightens it too much. Despite my pain I see a look of relief cloud his face. “Other than your arm, what hurts? I can’t tell if anything else is broken. I already have Ron and Blaise going to get a teacher. I am so sorry Draco, it wasn’t suppose to happen like this!” Harry is running his sentences together as he is frantically searching me over for any other damages. Everything hurts, but what I feel the most is the throbbing in my chest. Did I really have to almost die for him to say my name in such a caring way? I don’t want to be here, it hurts to see him like this knowing it is just me that is feeling this way. “Professor Snape!” Harry yells as Severus approaches with Ron and Blaise right behind him. I see Rus reach for his wand and the next thing I know Harry is swept away from me by an unseen force, flown at least three yards away. “Harry Potter! What have you done now?!” Severus yells, abnormally angry. He turns his attention toward me, worry lines streaking his face. He looks me over and his face softens. A wave of his wand and I feel a million times better. He leans down next to me and whispers, “You’ll be okay Draco, I’ll take care of this”. He turns his attention to Harry, “While I transport this young man who could very well be crippled, I’d recommend you contact your parents before I get the chance. Let them know I expect to be seeing them soon.” Severus knows better than to touch me, so he makes me float using Hermione's favorite spell. He must have cast a different spell as well, because the last thing I see is Harry’s terrified face as Severus brings me back toward the castle. 

I wake up to a sudden jolt of pain coming from, well, everywhere. The most prominent pain is coming from my right arm. I sit up to exam the damage, but to my surprise I see none other than Hermione Granger sitting next to my bed in the infirmary, reading of course. Without a word she raises her hand and indicated the number 1, probably to suggest “one minute”. I wait for her to finish her page. 

“I know about you and Harry.” She announces bluntly as she closes her book carefully. She is smart, but she can’t possibly be that smart. “Well, yes, I assume you would know about how he got me clobbered by a tree. You were there.” I try and dismiss her suspicious words. She does not buy a word of it. “No, you twit, I know about you two’s past, and I am willing to bet that your annoying behavior is because you still have feelings for him.” She states it so matter o’ factly that I am left speechless. She rolls her eyes and gets up to leave, “Well, I sure hope that is the case. Him and I broke up you see. After I found out the only reason he wanted to be with me is because I am smart enough to brew a Polyjuice potion of you so he can fuck it, I decided maybe I should be with someone who was actually attracted to me.” She walks away without giving me a chance to argue, or well, say anything at all really. He does what?  She runs into someone at the door and I hear them exchange words, and to my surprise the next person to walk in is Harry Fucking Potter. He stands awkwardly at the end of my bed for what feels like an eternity before asking, “how are you feeling?”. Despite his concern, he wont make eye contact with me. He doesn’t even seem like he wants to be here. I sink back into the bed and roll away from him. “You can go, I am fine. I bet your friends are lost without you.” I bite my tongue at the end, knowing that isn’t how I feel. I feel the bed shift as he sits down on the edge. 

“Draco.. I don’t want to go. I feel terrible about what happened, and I Hermione just told me that you know about.. me, or us, or however you want to say it, and what I am trying to say is, “ He takes a deep breath, “Draco I am so sorry. I know your father doesn’t want me around you, but it hurts to see you like this, and it hurts to not be with you.”. His voice got weak as he finished his sentence. His hand grabbed my leg and squeezed it. It’d been forever since I had felt his warmth. 

I can’t. 

I can’t. I can’t.  I can’t  I can’t  I can’t  I can’t  I can’t  I can’t  I can’t  I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’tIcantIcantICANTICANTICANTICANT! 

Why? Why does he have to do this? Why does he have to hurt me like this? What does this all mean? Does he think that because he said sorry I can just roll over and pretend the last two years never happened?! HE LEFT ME! He hurt me! He got me hurt! When I lost him, I lost the love for myself as well. How can he say those things to someone who is just a shell? 

I start breathing desperately, my heart racing and my head flooding with these thoughts. I can’t control it, I can’t stop it, and I can’t move. I want to reach out to him, to grab his hand, to push him away, I don’t know!  

“Mr. Potter, now would be a good time for you to leave.” Severus’s calming voice announces over the hallway in the infirmary. I hear his footsteps swiften towards us. “Proffessor Snape I was only-” Harry starts, but gets interrupted by a stern and almost hissing whisper, “No, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy’s parents are heading this way, I strongly recommend you make it as if you were never here. Do you understand?”. That very much so sounded like a threat. “Of course, I’m sorry... Please take care of him!”. Harry runs down the hallway and I hear the door slam before Severus addresses me. He kneels beside the bed to be face to face with me. “Draco, I’m so sorry. Deep breaths”. He says gently as he wipes away tears that I didn’t know I had. “Don’t worry about your parents. I will tell them now is a bad time. We will all reconvene at my house this evening once you recover from the healing spell. You can ask them about what Mr. Potter said if you must, I will protect you. Always.” He gently kisses my forehead and leaves silently, leaving me to suffer, as always. 

It's painfully awkward sitting at dinner with my parents and Severus. He was able to fix my arm, but it left me what could only be described as the largest hangover one has ever suffered. To top it off, since I was okay physically, my father was going to make sure I wasn't okay emotionally or mentally. He'd done nothing but berate me for causing a scene. I zone out of his rants and stare down at where Severus is squeezing my knee. He is trying to be supportive, but all I can notice is a strange tattoo on his arm that wasn't there before.

"Severus, what is this?" I ask as I drag my fingers over the snake that's wrapped around a skull. It graces his forearm so delicately, it really adds to his aesthetic. My father looks appalled at my blatant change of topic, and Severus looks panicked. He tries to cover it with his sleeve, but father stops him. "Severus Snape, is that the reaction to my spell?" Father stairs him down.

"Yes, my lord. I've no excuses for my behaviour. I will only say that never once have I sought to harm Draco. I've had his best interests in mind, always." Severus hangs his head as he finishes his sentence, knowing what he has just admitted.

"Draco, that mark - or something definitive, will appear on anyone you've had relations with." Father waves his hand towards Severus's arm as he struggles to remain calm. Mother chokes down a sob. "I had my suspicions about the Potter child, but I suppose this confirms that you are exactly the deviant whore I assumed you to be." I- wait, Harry? He knew about us? If he did something like this, something permanent to someone who worshipped him, then what did he do to Harry?

"Father! Tell me, is Harry's scar because of this?!". I grab Severus's hand and squeeze it, needing all the support from him that I can get in this challenging moment. Bever had I spoken againt father, but this was going too far!

"Of course. Are you really that daft to think he spontaneously manifested such an atrocious mark? Honestly Draco, to think you've tainted a wizard of such nobilty, and to include Severus on your path of destruction. I am ashamed to call you my son." Lucious stands to leave, grabbing Narcissa by the arm and dragging her with him. I never thought it would come to this, I knew father could be nasty, but I never believed he would be this way towards me. Everything I did was to make him look to, to do the Malfoy name proud. Yet he can't even let me love who I want to love? I want to chase after him but Severus weighs me down in my chair. "Don't Draco, let him cool off before you try anything. It wont end well if you pursue him now.".

The next day at school I can't help but stair at Harry's scar in every shared class. Severus explained how the curse worked, he explained that the mark would burn and feel as if it were festering when the host was around me. He explained that the reason Harry grew distant was because of my father and James Potter deciding to seperate us by any means necessary. Severus only learned about this after he began tutoring me and learned of my heart break. I still couldn't bring myself to speak to him. I don't know whether I feel betrayed, or heart broken. I don't know where I will go when the weekend comes, because I can't go home, or to Severus's, and I can't stay here. The library seems like the only logical option to kill a little bit of time at before finding a place to spend the night.

"Draco?" Before I even look, I know it is Harry who has joined me in the endless rows of books. "Draco.. I am so sorry. I hope you're okay. I hope Luscious didn't.. do anything, to you. Like he used to-" "STOP" I can't take this anymore! "Did you know? About the curse, about our fathers, and what he would do? This whole time were you just hiding from my reality?!" He is standing right here in front of me but as I yell at him I only stare at the scar on his forehead, knowing it must be throbbing.

"I knew.. after it appeared, they explained it to me. They said it was what you wanted, and that this would help us distance ourselves." He steps closer to me, reaching out for me. "But I knew it couldn't have been true. I figured it out after you started getting so familiar with Professor Snape. I tried asking my father about it and he told me the truth, but I thought you'd moved on so I didn't want you to have to choose.", he grabs my hand and holds it close to his chest. "But I'm done waiting. I don't think you've moved on, I just think you're too afraid to be yourself. So stop me if this isn't what you want." The last words are practically a whisper as his lips close in on mine. It'd been so long since I'd felt his touch, let alone his kiss. He starts out soft and sweet, lingering to feel the softness of my lips. When I don't fight his kiss, he gets more aggressive, his tongue parting my lips and finding mine. He grabs the back of my head and laces his fingers through my hair, cushioning the impact of him pushing my into the bookshelf. "Draco~" he mutters my name as he leans into me. I can feel his hard on pressing against me. "Fuck Draco", he lips press against my neck as he kisses me intensely, trying to leave a mark. "I've never stopped wanting you", he bites me gently, "I never let you get taken from me again".

[linkspooky]

Aizawa and Kurogiri

Edit by @inumaqi​

In the latest chapter we see Aizawa’s heartfelt attempts to get through to Kurogiri. To speak to his friend and search for him somewhere inside of the shambling corpse spewing black mist that might be all that remains of him. However as genuine as Aizawa’s feelings, and his pleas are towards Kurogiri they are most likely going to fall on deaf ears. Not because the power of friendship is fake, or no trace of Shirakumo remains inside of Kurogiri, but rather because Aizawa himself cannot accept his friend for who he is now. MORE UNDER THE CUT. 

 Gran Torino’s attitude towards Kurogiri is indicative of Hero Society as a whole and how Hero Society is never going to be capable of saving anyone in the league of villains as it is now. 

It does not matter who they were, or what their circumstances were. Even if they were directly created by the failures of hero society, once they become villains it no longer matters. They are no longer seen as fully three dimmensional people, just enemies to be put down. 

Shimura Tenko’s situation is literally the direct failure of both Nana’s poor decision to abandon her child, and Gran Torino and All Might following their word never to look after Kotaro and his descendants, and because of that both Kotaro and Tenko’s entire lives were destroyed by All for One. Yet, despite being directly responsible through negligence for Shimura Tenko literally being kidnapped as a five year old and raised by a villain Gran Torino insists that at the end of the day Shigaraki Tomura is just a crimminal and therefore completely responsible for his own actions. 

Those that are blind to the faults of hero society cannot see how people are hurt by hero society. They even speak of Kurogiri like he’s under brain control like they cannot possibly imagine why he would ever turn against hero society of his own free will. 

Shigaraki is not an abused child. He’s just an emo punk ass. He’s a problem to society. They don’t view Shigaraki as a person just the danger he represents to other people. Therefore, they cannot possibly conceive of why Kurogiri would have any kind of lingering attachment to Shigaraki. 

We as the audience know that the league of villain are all people, who despite being heavily flawed also have their good sides. They are capable of fighting for their friends, and have people they love as well. We’re introduced to two sides of Shigaraki Tomura’s personality. First, we see the violent manchild he is, lashing out at the world around him, volatile, unstable, constantly in pain. Then we meet Shimura Tenko. 

Tenko who is this constantly anxious kid, a crybaby who even though he’s literally constantly being punished by his father, stands up to bullies, and still wants to follow his dreams even in a household where everybody is dead against him becoming a hero. We’re introduced to a kid who’s a strong parallel for Deku, someone who cannot stand to see others be left out, because he also knows what it feels like to be alone even in a household surrounded by people and continually reaches out to others even when he himself wants to cry. 

Then we realize that Shigaraki is still that person. No matter how warped he became from his childhood self, that’s still the core of who he is. Shigaraki will always take in the outcast, he’ll accept them even when they’re not strictly useful. When twice failed to create a double of the Quirk Bullets, Shigaraki did not throw him out. 

The Tenko who will always reach out the outcast even when he himself is in pain, even when he wants to cry is still there. The Tenko that cares so much about other people’s feelings because he knows what it’s like to have his own feelings trampled on. 

He is neither Shigaraki Tomura the destructive brat who just wants to hurt others as a form of lashing out. nor Shimura Tenko the one who stands up to bullies and accepts the outsiders for who they are, but rather he’s both at once. He’s both an incredibly violent and emotionally unwell person, and also a kind one who always reaches out to others who are similiarly lost just like him. That’s the form Shigaraki’s victomhood takes, and it’s incredibly complex, ugly and hard to swallow. He’s the monster All for One made him into, and at the core of his being he’s still a victimized child. Neither of these traits cancel out the other, but hero society in its rush to categorize people as hero or victims will never understand the whole of Shigaraki. 

Aizawa genuinely cares about Shirakumo, even in his current form of Kurogiri. He still cares for his friend even knowing the sins he must have committed as Kurogiri. However, the bottom line is Aizawa is never going to be able to offer the same understanding that the league has already given to Kurogiri. Aizawa loved his friend for who he was, and for the traces of him that still remain present, but Shigaraki accepts Kurogiri for who he is right now. 

Shigarki is the central victim of the manga. He’s connected to the rest of the league. He’s even paralleled heavily to Kurogiri. They were both taken in by All for One at a young age, and both of them have been manipulated by him for a long time and were only saved by him to fulfill a purpose. They’re both ultimately tools to the man who took them in and are loyal to. Shigaraki has even now allowed his body to be tinkered with to the same degree that Kurogiri has in the past. They have both also been by each other’s side the longest, especially if Kurogiri’s sole purpose for being taken in was to raise Shigaraki. 

Shigaraki and Kurogiri are also both people who have gone by two different names (Shimura Tenko, Shigaraki Tomura) and (Shirakumo , Kurogiri). They both experienced the ‘death’ of their original selves. They both continued living on even after their own funeral. They are both former aspiring heroes who were turned into villains by All for One’s machinations. 

What Aizawa realizes is that both Shigaraki and Kurogiri are the same type of person. They are both people who could never leave a stray alone. They’ve bothspent their entire lives taking care of the outcasts. Those too dangerous to save. Those too problematic to save. Those who saving only brings in more risk and harm for others. They save the people that hero society would otherwise forget. 

Aizawa sees this quality in Kurogiri because he knew Kurogiri as Shirakumo, and he recognizes his old friend. However, Aizawa himself would never see this in Shigaraki. Even though Aizawa is a caretaker of children he would never noticed what a damaged and traumatized child Shigaraki is. However, they have essentially both gone through the same thing, Kurogiri and Shigaraki both died and were resurrected by All for One with their original personalities still in tact, if Aizawa cannot accept Shigaraki then he cannot accept Kurogiri as well. 

The point that Horikoshi is trying to show us with these people who fell through the cracks, these former aspiring heroes fallen to villainry, is that there is a reason they became villains in the first place. “Fallen” as they are, the children who once wanted to do good and become heroes are still obviously there inside of both of them. Shigaraki and Kurogiri cannot grow up because the world currently as it is would never let them grow up. That’s why Shigaraki wants to destroy it. 

Even the way Aizawa talks about Shirakumo’s death, he kind of implies it’s Shirakumo’s own fault for acting too recklessly. Not the fault of say, hero society for putting a teenager on a dangerous internship when the adults should have been handling the more dangerous elements like this. 

There’s this insistence on personal responsibility in hero society. That Shigaraki must have wanted to become a villain, therefore it doesn’t matter if he was an abused child taken in by All for One. Aizawa himself while being a very compassionate person is still a part of that society. 

Aizawa’s response to Shirakumo’s freak accident of a death was not that perhaps it’s a bad idea to put children into these circumstances into the first place, but rather an emphasis on individual responsibility. If Shirakumo had simply thought things through, if he had been more powerful, then he would have simply avoided the fallen rocks and continued living. Aizawa thinks if he can teach students adequately to be responsible personally for everything and account for those situations that they’ll never be put into harms way. 

And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with personal respnsibility, but people like Gran Torino take it too far. Obviously, Shimura Tenko must have wanted to be evil at five years old. If he were a good child he would have somehow resisted fifteen years of manipulation from literally the world’s most powerful evil genius. 

But Aizawa knows that his teaching of indvidual responsibility only works up to a point. That people can’t do everything on their own, that they will inevitably need someone who pulls them along, and someone to rely on. People are not saved by punching a villain in the face, people are saved when somebody notices that someone else is in trouble and reaches out to help them regardless of the circumstances. People are saved by people like Shigaraki or Deku who will reah out to help the outcast that cannot help themselves. 

Aizawa himself has been damaged by hero society as well. He’s traumatized by the loss of Shirakumo. Which is why he can’t see the inherent flaw that allowed Shirakumo to fall through the cracks in the first place. The attitude that lets children take on full villains, that even now is letting the Hero Commission do shady things like consider all of the students as a backup army in case the heroes were to fall. 

The same people that never allowed Hawks to have a life of his own, and instead coerced and raised him to be a hero since he was a child, and then even after taking his whole childhood away by making him be a hero, kept him under their thumbs and made him their expendable spy for the league and made him dirty his own hands. They forced him to be a hero, and then didn’t even allow him to stay the kind of hero who saves others that he wanted to be because they needed him to kill someone to infiltlrate the league. That shows how much the hero regards the ethics of using children. 

Aizawa genuinely loves his studets, but he’s also trusting them with these people because he can’t perceive the flaws. He can’t see how Kurogiri is suffering under the system, how Shigaraki is suffering, and how he himself is suffering. 

Which is why Aizawa’s pleas will ultimately fail to reach Kurogiri. Yes, he knows his old friend is still there in Kurogiri, but he also completely fails to accept the person Shirakumo has become as Kurogiri. There is already a person who has made a deep connection and brought out the best of Kurogiri as who he already is now, and it’s not Aizawa, it’s Shigaraki. The reason Kurogiri is still kind like Shirakumo was is because he had Shigaraki to care for and bring it out of him by continually treating Kurogiri like a person. What Aizawa wants is to return to the past and become heroes again. Shigaraki will accept Kurogiri as he is now, even as a villain. Aizawa denies who Kurogiri has become, but Shigaraki has already accepted him at his most broken. 

That is why the league of villains saves the people who the heroes never could save. 

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 5: Waking Up

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2363

Content warning for canonical fantasy racism.  When I started writing this, I hadn’t realized that fantasy racism can be problematic.  I based it on real world examples so it’s a weird mix of actual peoples’ experiences atop a fictional shifter race.  

As you read, try to remember that these aren’t instances I dreamed up in my head, they came from authentic occurrences in the US.  The excerpt before the second part?  Taken from flyers posted in 2019.  This is reality for actual, living, breathing people to this day.

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the stupendous pandabearer

Remi’s cat crouched in preparation to battle with the strange predator in sheep’s clothing in their midst; pinpricks in his bottom lip were a sure sign that his teeth were more feline than human at the moment, and his claws itched to unsheath.  How could he have been so blind? He needed to eliminate the threat before anyone could question his leadership, a lethal strike to prove his dominance.

That thought wasn’t him.  It was an echo of another alpha from another time and brought him out of the homicidal haze with a cold splash of dread.  He had to shove the memories and the associated sick feeling in his gut into a box in order to concentrate on the situation at hand.

Holding himself with a predator’s stillness, he studied his prey.  Whenever one of his packmates was unduly intimidated by someone, outsider or not, he and the pack kept a close eye on that individual.  He didn’t haul off and rip their throat out. He could hardly bring her down in front of their youngest in the middle of what was meant to be a celebration.  Such casual exposure to violence could damage young psyches, as well he knew. Yet, it was all he could do not to charge over there and tear the ocelot away from the little family.  Unlike that other alpha, he couldn’t act upon suspicion alone.

The baby hunter had no compunctions about cuddling up to Lorelei, something she would never have done if Lorelei was even close to going rogue.  Moreover, several cubs surrounded her now, curious about the visitor. Their youngest, hunter or otherwise, were some of the best judges of character and the best litmus test when it came to the health of a pack.  It was when the adults didn’t pay attention that problems arose.

“He’s different.”

“Oh sweetie, of course he is.  He lost his mate. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He shook off the echoes of the past like his cat shook off water and shoved them back in the box.

The music had switched from general background party music to a dance mix, which made overhearing their conversation difficult even with his superior hearing.  Moving closer, he stopped at one of the tables of food so he could eavesdrop without being noticed. Staring at the ocelot would only put her on her guard.

Lorelei didn’t appear on the verge of a rampage; rather, she seemed overwhelmed.  Then again, who wouldn’t be when surrounded by the cubs who were peppering her with questions?  His tension eased a fraction when he saw that none of them appeared scared of her.

“Just you and your nana and papa?”  Remi couldn’t help a small smile at Jasper’s wide-eyed incredulity.  Most of their little ones had grown up in packs or in extended family units at the very least.  Such a small family without ties to dozens of “aunties” and “uncles,” as well as numerous friends of all ages, was an unthinkable concept to them.

The interrogation wandered into what type of cat she was since she smelled different and, to his knowledge, none of them had met an ocelot.  They were much smaller than leopards and the children would probably be delighted at having a grown-up playmate their own size. She was actually rather good with them once she relaxed, and he wondered how she’d handle being swamped by them when they were the same size.  He grinned at the thought of little cats ending up in a wrestling pile and the knot in his chest eased.

Elias waded through the throng to speak to Lorelei.  What came out of his mouth must not have been his usual bullshit because she didn’t slap him.  He seemed downright courteous, which was unnatural and creeping Remi out more than a bit. Lorelei only nodded to him after Tien gave her an encouraging smile.

The senior soldier pulled Lorelei to join the growing cluster of dancers.  While she was willing, it was painfully obvious that she was far from comfortable in her own skin, moving stiffly and keeping her head on a swivel to look for anyone staring.  Elias, picking up on her discomfort, shifted to hide her much smaller body with his own. In thanks, she smiled up at him and shifted slightly closer.

His cat wanted to be the one to crack open her prickly exterior and unravel the mystery of her.  The only problem was after seeing her interactions with the pack, Remi seemed to be the only one she wanted to swipe a claw at.

The rancid emotions he had stuffed down sprang back with a vengeance, sending irrational jealousy spiking through him.  For some reason, she brought out his inner psychopath, all the dark urges and instincts that he kept chained within. Very few knew about them, and he intended to keep it that way.

With a sigh, he rubbed at his temples to ease his pounding headache.  If only he could place the blame on the recent circulation of human supremacy rhetoric, but that would merely be an excuse for his own lack of control.  He told himself that things would be better once she was pack since he disliked having an unprotected submissive female in his territory, which was true, especially with the possibility of active anti-Changeling groups in the area.

He felt scraped raw on the inside.  It had been a while since he’d been this spun up in his head and he needed to get that sucker back on straight.  This was a time for joy, not the shadows haunting him.

“Leaving already?” Lark asked from behind him.  She had managed to sneak up on him, which was a sure sign that he was off his game.

“If you feel the need to babysit, go chase after the cubs,” he growled over his shoulder.

“I’m doing my job.”  She let his temper roll off her.  “Need someone to run with?” He shook his head.  He’d prefer a good fight, but in this mood he was likely to shred even a sentinel.  “Remember you have to be back in time to help judge the costume contest.”

An affirmative grunt.  Pack bonds were important, especially in such a young pack, but he had to vent this before his attitude began to affect everyone else.

WAKE UP HUMANS!

Our children deserve a future free of Changeling violence.  These animals come into our communities with their drugs and violence, lowering property values, living off welfare, and preying on hard-working humans.  In the name of “political correctness,” we the taxpayers are prevented from standing up to these parasites.

DON’T BE DELUDED BY A “BRIGHT NEW FUTURE”

We need to change the country’s liberal policies that are eroding our values.  It’s alright to be human and we need to stop being ashamed of it. Changelings want us afraid and divided to prevent us from having a group identity.  We have been the victims of the other races for too long. They try to divide us, take away our rights, and plan to eliminate us because they fear us.

STOP CONTRIBUTING TO HUMAN GENOCIDE!!!  KEEP THE HUMAN RACE PURE!!!

       -Excerpt from letters sent to residents of Sevier County, Tennessee September 2083

Lorel hummed and swayed along to music while she piped bright pink rosettes onto the rows of cupcakes in front of her.  The radio was set to the show of the DJ from the party, a pretty human packmember by the name of Aoife. Country wasn’t her typical choice of genre, but it reminded her of dancing at the party.  She hardly knew anything about Elias, and therefore had no feelings about him one way or the other, yet she couldn’t get the other night out of her mind; not that she was dreaming of the soldier or anything.  

She had been completely dumbfounded; no one had ever asked her to dance.  Well, not since that horrible prom night in high school, anyway. While she’d doubted that the leopard would try to pull what her teenaged date had, she had looked to Tien and gotten reassurance.  She barely knew the other woman but trusted that Tien wouldn’t knowingly put her in danger.

It had been a long time since anyone other than her aunt had touched her, and far longer since she’d had any physical contact of a non-platonic nature.  Elias had made it clear that he found her interesting and attractive, which she could have chalked up to the promiscuous nature of Changelings. But he had also been respectful of her boundaries even though it was obvious that her limits were far more stringent than that of a Changeling’s, and possibly those of many humans.

She kept her distance not just because she didn’t want them to assume she was easy, or that she was going to join the pack, but because it simply felt too good and not even in a sexual way.  At first, Elias’ touch was nearly painful, like her skin was so focused in its need that every sensation was heightened ten-fold to absorb everything at once. Startled by the sensitivity, she had been about to retreat when the song ended, but the ache of the loss had her saying ‘yes” to the next person who approached.

The sun had set and red, yellow, orange, and white fairy lights strung between the trees had lit up.  At that point, she’d called it a night with the excuse that she had to work in the morning; while that was true, she had worried that she’d be tempted to go exploring the woods in animal form.  Even if they’d allowed her, she couldn’t permit the cat to take over.

Tien had approached her with arms wide in expectation of a hug.  Unsure of what to do, Lorel did her best impression of a statue as the other woman’s arms had folded around her.  It wasn’t a brief embrace, either. It was strong and warm and all-encompassing. Maternal. And she soaked it up like rain after a drought, her skin still starving even after all the dancing.  Although her aunt had lavished affection on her before going travelling, as if she’d tried to compensate for the lack over the years, there was a quality among the Changelings that felt like she was finally coming home.

Lorel had let herself relax into the hug and had, had to force herself to pull away, fussing with her clothes to keep from reaching out to the other woman again.  Her cat’s tail had lashed in irritation at the denial, but didn’t act out in any other way, thankfully.

At the sound of the door opening, she set the bag of frosting down and headed out front while wiping her hands on a clean, damp cloth.  A woman looked at something on her phone as she approached the counter.

“Good morning,” Lorel greeted her.  The customer held up a finger while she tapped something into her phone.  Lore’s customer service smile grew strained while she waited. When she finally looked up, her scent soured before Lorel could offer a sample of berry crumble cake.

“Where’s Nora?” she demanded.

That was a question she’d heard far too many times, but this time the edge to it had her ocelot’s upper lip curling away from her teeth.

“My aunt’s currently on a beach enjoying her retirement.”  The mask wavered as Lorel fought against mirroring the sneer of her cat.

“Is there someone else who can help me?” she frowned.

Okay, that was a new one.

“Just me, I’m afraid,” shrugged Lorel.  “Is there a problem?”

“Don’t snap at me.”  Lorel swore that the other woman was two seconds away from clutching her pearls, if she’d worn any.  “I just want to know when someone else will be in to serve me.”

What in the name of all that was good and holy?

“Ma’am, I’m the owner,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, then muttered, “I just don’t know where this country is headed.  Animals like you taking jobs from good people.”

In an instant, her cat went from unamused disdain to homicidal rage.  Lorel throttled it back, but her eyes flashed yellow-green if the sudden ashen hue underneath the woman’s spray-on tan was any indication.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”  Lorel didn’t bother with the fake smile this time.

“How dare you!”  Her colour returned, going straight to red.  “I’m going to sue for intimidation.” Her shrill voice grew louder and louder until Lorel’s ears protested the abuse.  She stormed out, entering a code into her phone.

She released the breath she’d been holding only to inhale a lungful of perfume strong enough to make her eyes water.  Her ocelot wanted to hunt her down like a rabbit, but she convinced it that the meat was bad. She propped open the door to air out the store and the obnoxious woman stood in front of the yarn shop next door.  Still on the phone, she turned and the blood drained from her face when she saw Lorel.

“Oh my god, she’s following me!” she shrieked.  

Lorel rolled her eyes and decided she’d go put her irritation to good use by kneading dough for cinnamon buns.  As much fun as decorating cupcakes for a little girl’s birthday party was, that required a steady hand and hers were shaking with unexpressed anger.

The butcher’s block was barely floured when the sounds of sirens pierced her eardrums.  She dusted off her hands and returned to the front to find four cops standing there, each with a hand on a weapon.  Blinking, she froze mid-brush. I probably shouldn’t offer them doughnuts, she thought.

“Good afternoon, officers.  Would you like to try the berry crumble?”  She gestured to the silver tray with the samples and bit back a laugh at their bewildered expressions.  Evidently, they’d expected to find her frothing at the mouth from the way the blonde was still carrying on outside to a fifth cop.  They probably hadn’t anticipated a woman who more resembled a librarian than a murderous beast.

[incarnateirony]

God as I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten so cynical about idealization.

In the last few days across various private messages to various friends I’ve said the following things about not understanding people iconizing old SPN as dark or gritty:

Diet dark

Dark but airing at 7PM for teenagers on the WB dark

Dark but airing two hours after Pinky and the Brain dark

Dark but on Fridays at this time I flip a channel to watch a talking cat dark

I’ve said, for example, it wasn’t dark or even gritty really. It was still hollywood glamor, if a little less than it is now. That it was dusty, more than anything

Dusty like offroading in your prius and forgetting to wash your car dusty

Dusty like hitchhiking and maybe stealing some over the counter eyedrops to trade back in for cash and buy a cheap motel room dusty

Dusty like transporting goats in the back of my Corolla dusty

Dusty like that time I slept in a junkyard dusty

I have become an EXCESSIVELY cynical bitch, I see.

Maybe it’s because my life *was* dark and full of grit. Maybe it’s because I DID blaze a dusty path. Maybe it’s because just about anything the guys did in the first few seasons, I did before I hit puberty. Maybe it’s because I lived that and could see through the hilarious glamorization of it all. I don’t know. 

Like, do I MISS the vibe of the old seasons? Sure, sometimes. Which is when I, like, go to netflix and watch the first few seasons for that vibe. I much prefer this thoroughly fleshed out and constructed style of modern storytelling in general, but there was in fact a fun Americana vibe to it. I’m not saying it wasn’t fun. But people act like old SPN was some peak macabre horror psychological thriller and not a teenage drama with overexposed lensing for bleached film stock. And that goes on both sides with people talking about it being “problematic” or whatever. Beyond the old era rimshots at gay people and the habit of discarding female characters or whatever -- while, protip, we all tuned in to a show featuring white male leads by choice -- like. 

I don’t get it. I literally do not get it.  Like as hard as people have romanticized one idealization, it’s like for the sake of argument against the fanon romanticization of that idealization they’ve excessively piled on and built up something to dismantle that barely existed to begin with and, what did exist has literally been show dismantled. Now either side of the fence will scream “codependency, true love/problematic” if brothers like. Breathe in each other’s vicinity. Or don’t just casually let the other die bloody and alone. You know. Basically, whenever they aren’t being absolute terrible human beings that don’t give a shit about their family at all, this flips into magnetic polarization in fandom dialogue. Like, sis, they're eating sammiches. I don't need a 5 page essay on how this "deconstructs the codependency." Dabberens have been on a warpath ever since they dropped Red Meat as the cornerstone sure but literally they're eating bologna and playing foosball chill out.

It’s one thing to like, hm. Take a highlighter to your favorite elements in fanon spaces. Write fics or art that deepen a particular theme or tone. But it’s another thing to like, hold evolving canon to the precedent set up in your own mythologilized fandom spaces.

Things that have /objectively/ changed in the show:

- Genre/cinematography; lighting and set adapted from vaguely horror-esque (halfly to hide the terrible makeup and CGI) to high fantasy over time (in which increased lighting shows that terrible makeup and CGI). Not liking one or the other? VALID!

- Character focus: The first several seasons were pretty much just da bros. Carver era extended into Team Free Will even if people hit denial waves about it. Dabb era seems to play ship-juggling acts and does openly engage in sport like “Oh wow, Rowena is flirting with Cas, I wonder if they’re gonna be a thing :)” while shoving some Sabriel or Samwitch in the way between more central pairs like Saileen or Destiel. Not liking one version or another of this? VALID!

- Mythology: Old SPN demonized literally any tradition that wasn’t christianity. Their alchemists and shamans are, respectively, kind of offensive. Carver only used the established races and a very vague cain and abel concept. Modern SPN is using alchemy and philosophy formerly villainized under the Calvinistic lens. Not liking one version or another of this? VALID!

- Core Principles: While “Family don’t end in blood” has always been there, the current author room’s statements about believing in hope or heroism over tragedy /are/ distinctly different than tragedy-oriented old SPN with the faintest lick of hope-ish-seeming-things with Lisa’s “never too late” kinda slapped on at the end to vaguely tell us there’s silver linings. Characters aren’t fighting just for survival all the time now, they’re often fighting for silver linings. Or gold ones right now. *rimshot* Not liking one version or another of this? VALID!

- Rule of Cool: Literally, this was a thing, and then it wasn’t. Kripke picked cars he liked because he liked them and thought they were cool. Kripke picked guns he thought were cool. Kripke picked name spellings he thought were cool. These are all things he’s said, like, on the record. This is also why the early show attracted more dudes that also operated on Rule of Cool. But maintaining cohesion required less and less rule of cool and more and more intertextual and subtextual poetry that gave less “plug whatever you want in the space with the cool shit” room and more “infinite amount of material that, while defined, all has flexible potential if you think about it and how to employ it.” Not liking one version or another of this? VALID!

Noticing change is /fair/. It’s /valid/. You don’t have to /like/ the change. 

Hell. This started addressing fandom romanticization of the early seasons but let’s not pretend Destiel fandom doesn’t have its own versions of this. All the different wings that romanticize the weirdest fucking eras as “the best” rampage too. Like the parts you like. Enjoy content how you enjoy it. But when you build up a romanticized version of a product in your head, you can’t expect the product to perform like the romanticized version. 

I know first memories are powerful. Nostalgia is powerful. But have you ever... like... gone to turn on a movie you loved as a kid 15, 20 years ago or whatever and load it up now and realize like, “Wow, I used to like some stupid shit.” And hell. We may even acknowledge it was stupid shit and STILL like the stupid shit. Or the stupid shit may annoy us know, depending. Who knows? Not to say seasons 1-2 are “stupid shit” if you will (or whatever season, 4, 8, whatever Destiel fandom may argue about as The Best on a given day) -- but it feels like attaching to these characters, and then arguing about these characters, without EVER unplugging from the content at all has made people lose that perspective where we, IDK, turn Digimon back on for the first time and go “oh wow this is a lot dumber than I remember it being (but it’s still fun)”. Yes, Pikachu IS annoying to hear squeaking constantly like your parents said before you lit up in holy, righteous fury defending the sparking rat. No, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun watching the reboot of Mewtwo Strikes Back. It just... perspective.

I dunno. Maybe fandom will in fact pan out differently in 15+ years once people have had the chance at this kind of down time. 

Random thoughts.

[monicalorandavis]

‘Honey Boy’ is too good for this dusty world

Shia Labeouf is a genius. His film, ‘Honey Boy’ will sweep at the Academy Awards. If it doesn’t then I guess there’s still ‘Ford V Ferrari’...

‘Honey Boy’ startles the senses. It is suddenly funny, then soulful, then travels into the spaces between dreaming and awake. Shia, and director Alma Har’el, have created a movie that is equal parts therapy session and film.

For some, that sounds like emotional work. Work you don’t want from your films. Fair.

But ‘Honey Boy’ asks from the audience in a way that never feels abusive. It’s an emotional film that elicits laughter when you least suspect it, then punches you in the stomach when it remembers a long-forgotten, childhood memory.

I imagine that the critics to ‘Honey Boy’ might dissect Shia’s performance as an effort to get audiences to sympathize for him. Those critics are, frankly, grasping at straws. They are searching for reasons to dislike a very talented man. They want to paint Shia with a ‘poor me, privileged little sad boy’ brush. Unfortunately, Shia has painted himeslf into a complicated corner of storytelling by depicting his life, and his father’s, for the world to see.

Shia has invited all of us in to witness the relationship that he, as a child, was striving to be let into between he and his father. We watch a young boy, blessed with talent and charisma, struggle to win the approval of the man who matters the most. And again, Shia narrowly camouflages his life with the characters on screen, but the best strategy is to blur the edges of the two.

Shia is James Lort, the child star Otis Lort’s father, conman, Harley driving, former rodeo clown who had the good fortune of bearing the son, Shia Labeouf. And he isn’t James Lort.

James Lort’s relationship with his son is a complicated one. But at its core, it’s a relationship about a father who never realized his dreams, whatever the reason. Be it his alcoholism, childhood traumas, or bad judgment, James Lort’s story is one worth hearing. Shia Labeouf, like no one on this planet, is equipped to play the man who raised him, and flexes his acting chops like a virtuoso. His performance is full of specific choices and idiosyncrasies that flesh out the man who raised him into being a massive star.

Labeouf’s acting is so subliminal that to call it simply “cathartic” (as I’ve seen in other reviews of the film) is ignoring the otherworldly aspects of it. Labeouf’s is a spiritual performance. He goes deep into the recesses of his mind and drudges up dark memories of his father to present him onscreen. It is an unflattering performance of a deeply charismatic, troubled man. For those of us with parents who scare us and whose approval we’ll always yearn for, to play the man who denied you normalcy, is a feat of emotional fortitude. We have the pleasure of watching Shia Labeouf exorcise a demon on screen, in front of our eyes. It makes you wonder why Shia’s been fucking around for so long. He had this in him the whole time?

Earnestness is seldom rewarded in cinema. But I’d say Labeouf and Har’el have created a deeply earnest film. And you don’t want Shia to be earnest. You don’t want him to be John Cassavetes. You want him to be a weirdo because for the last decade he’s been a weirdo.

What we know of Labeouf is a bird’s eye view on modern celebrity. That is to say, we know a lot. Labeouf is an odd media/fashion darling. He’s artsy, weird, stylish, and handsome, but not traditionally handsome. Shia’s good looks are boyish and his way with women comes with its own list of complications (that will make sense once you’ve seen the movie). Labeouf’s personal life has proven to be problematic. A drinking problem and issues with the cops seem to be the story of his early 20′s and then in recent memory, he married his teenage co-star from the Lars Von Trier film, ‘Nymphomaniac’. He is a celebrity in a real rogue sense of the word. He likes to act in movies but seems to hate being famous. But through ‘Honey Boy’ we are forced to consider what his fame and childhood success cost him. We were all complicit in his public meltdown. We made him a star when he was 12, rewarded him for acting like a clown for a paycheck, then turned around and punished him for acting like a clown when he turned 18.

We are so used to those in the spotlight that we forget that there is a whole community to whom they belong to. James is one of the community, cast in the background (though he never wished to stay in the background), and he’s found his ticket to the big leagues through his son’s success. He mostly chooses to not spoil it, but some fatal gaps in parental reasoning are missing for James. One stand out is James’ choice in residence, a roadside motel in the San Fernando Valley, the worst case scenario for this native Angeleno. It is at the motel that most of the pivotal action occurs. It is there that we get to the essence of this father-son relationship. It is also where we understand how unsustainable it is. And ultimately, it can’t go on. The film ends abruptly but not harshly. This is a movie about a man in his early 30s whose career is just getting started.

[this-lioness]

Another bullshit update on life in general

Work has kept me busy, and I’ve been trying to get more done creatively and around the house, as well.

This was the first weekend in awhile I didn’t do any (or much) meal prep, since we had enough in the freezer to last us for all the dinners this week, and even a few lunches for Marc.  I made a dozen eggs, cut up and roasted almost 5 lbs of potatoes, and called it a day.

I cancelled the physical therapist, because between work, gym, housekeeping and trying to do something other than being a machine I did not have time for an additional two rounds of exercises every single day.  We were getting up at 5 AM, leaving for work at 6:30 AM, leaving work for home at 5 PM, getting home from the gym around 7, then eating for a half hour.  It was not going to happen.

We ended up cancelling the gym membership, because -- as much as we want to go -- we are just too tired and hungry after an hour-long commute to be like, “Yay, let’s do something tedious and exhausting for a half hour!”

The long term goal was to cancel the membership anyway, however.  I told Marc I want us to concentrate on finishing the sheetrock in the former “cat room” this coming weekend so that we actually use it for its intended purpose, which was exercise.  I have that barre I bought last year that I haven’t had time or room to use even once, and the treadmill and hand weights is just sitting and collecting dust.  So anyway, that’s the plan for next weekend.

We will also be fostering two cats in the next couple weeks, and trying to find them a home.  Long story short we met an artist at one of the galleries downtown, very nice guy, and his friend or nephew or I forget has recently knocked up his girlfriend and decided, “Well, we need to move and get rid of the cats I guess!”

So they’re two year-old sisters, and he wants them to stay together, which is fine.  Like Rosie, they actually look very young, like maybe only 5 months old.  They have never been to the vet in their life, so no shots, and neither of them are fixed, which means it will be on us to take care of all that before they get adopted out.  I’m sure he’s going to be a great Dad [/sarcasm].

When Marc found out that the cats needed a full vet workup, including spay, he was initially resistant due to the cost.  I said okay, if you’re not comfortable with it you’re not comfortable with it, and went upstairs to investigate our options.  The Walmart just opened up a “Vet IQ” clinic that does basic veterinary care, and we can utilize a local spay clinic for about $50 per cat, so on that end alone we’d be shelling out less than $300 (there’s always food and litter, of course).

After awhile Marc came up and was like, “I think I was a little hasty, I’m sure we can make it work.” After I told him the anticipated costs he was much more into it, so that’s good.  Hopefully we won’t have any trouble finding a home for them.

Rosie is doing well at feeding time in her crate!  It has not stopped her from being an absolute maniac spaz about food, but there is almost no growling at all while she eats now.  She goes in her crate, Marc covers it up with a towel, and she eats with seemingly less hysterical anxiety.  I’ll call it a tentative win.

Rosie, by the way, loves Bones. Bones can usually take her or leave her, although his tolerance level is much higher when she’s not acting the spaz, although you see moments of affection for her as well.  She greets him with a nice long body rub when they cross paths, and yesterday Marc caught him grooming her head.  It does my heart good.

At the risk of jinxing myself, I’ve been doing much better at bowling for the past few weeks!  I did decently at league on Friday, and when we went for our Sunday practice I had a series of something like 145, 106 and 140.  Considering I was lucky to break 100 a couple months ago I’m feeling very encouraged.

What has worked for me, honestly, is throwing out a lot of convention wisdom.  Marc has always been very patient with me, explaining game theory and approach and all that, but no matter how much I tried to put it all together it just wasn’t working.  And I was really, really trying.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was chatting with someone about Dyscalculia, and did a bit more casual reading about it.  I was reminded that it often causes issues with spatial awareness, something I can absolutely vouch for (I actually suspect it’s part of what’s caused me to have such persistent problems with perspective and anatomy over the years, although that’s a discussion for another time.)

So I started keeping that in mind when we play: I used the techniques that I knew were helpful, but in any aspect where I was supposed to do one thing, but consistently got unexpected and problematic results, I tried to go more by “feel”.

It’s hard to explain why this works, but it has so far.  Basically, I had to throw out the notion of bowling at “angles”, and became more of a straight-shooter, keeping in mind that my ball does have a tendency to hook left.  I got something like 3 or 4 strikes in one game on Friday!

Which is not to say that I’m suddenly a good bowler, because I’m not, but I’m better, which is what I wanted.  What’s annoying is when (admittedly well-meaning) people are like, “Here’s what you’re doing wrong!” and try to teach me about techniques which I already know, but which just don’t work for me.

This happened two weeks ago I think, and I’m sure the lady meant well, but she also was ignoring me when I said multiple fucking times, “I understand, but I have spatial awareness problems, that doesn’t work for me.”

Like, repeating something at me over and over is not going to make it any more true.  I hear what you’re saying, you’re just wrong.

So in other news I finished two more of the Mori Girl Cats, and that dumb little werewolf thing that was strictly for my own amusement.  (Someone was like, “That would make a great t-shirt,” and haha, I’m not fucking falling for that one again.)  I also organized the office / computer area of the Geek Room, we stashed away the last of the convention stuff, and it feels much more clean and open and neat.  A place I actually want to hang out, and not anxiously work while avoiding the pile of shit sitting behind me!

Last night I also installed Sims 3 and treated myself to a handful of expansion and “stuff” packs.  I only had enough time to create one Sim last night, but I already look forward to giving him a cold.

…*cough*...

Unrelated, but I meant to talk about something that happened last Wednesday, when I was out running my Mom around to her appointments and whatnot.

So… for anyone who didn’t follow me on Facebook or my old Tumblr, the short version is that my Mom and I have a very long and complicated history. She was not a very good mother, she is a textbook covert narcissist.  She was an alcoholic for many, many years which caused serious and life-altering problems for me as a teenager and young adult, and after she got sober she transitioned to a prescription drug addiction which further deteriorated our already tenuous and fraught relationship, and landed both her and my stepfather in financial ruin.

About a year and a half ago, to help save them from the road to homelessness, we helped them sell their old house and moved them to Bucks County to live about 10 minutes from us, in a mobile home park.  We helped them get it fixed up, we help with maintenance, running errands, etc.  It’s a very cute little house, and although it took some time I think they see that now, and that their lives are better off.

When they first moved up here my mother was still on prescription drugs, but she very quickly found that it was impossible to find a new doctor to continue prescribing her the same pharmaceutical cocktails she wanted.  And boy did she fucking try. She’s already changed doctors at least three or four times since moving here, whipping out her favorite refrain of “I don’t think this doctor knows what they’re talking about!” every time they’re like, “Yeah, you don’t need to be on a steady stream of opiates.”

Eventually the lack of drugs caught up with her, the withdrawal passed, and for the past year or so she and I have actually gotten along okay.  She is still, and always will be, a difficult person, and I worry about whether or not she’ll find a doctor to start filling prescriptions again, but until then things are… okayish.

Anyway, that’s the long back story.

Back when they were still living at their old house, Marc and I would periodically go to visit them.  My Mom was always drugged out of her gourd, so I fucking hated going, but I had to do my duty, and she made every excuse imagineable for why she couldn’t come visit us.  So once a month we’d pack up, trek over to her house, order take-out, hang out for a while, then go back home again.

Except my Mother would do this thing where, after the food arrived, she would put the plates out, and then she would continue to gather plates and reorganize the kitchen while everyone was sitting down, serving themselves and eating.  

Like, the food would be on the table, we’d all be halfway through our meals and well on our way to being done, and my Mom would still be in the kitchen sorting around in the drawers for a mystery spoon or bowl that she needed, then finding it, washing it out, drying it, realizing it was the wrong one, putting it away, etc.

Eventually she would come out while everyone else was finishing up, serve herself a tablespoon of food, eat half, and then talk about how full she was.

For a while we would be like, “Mom… everyone is eating. We have everything we need. We literally don’t need anything else. Just come in and eat,” and she would ignore us.  Eventually I just stopped caring, and let her do her thing while the rest of us ate.  The sooner we finished the sooner we could leave.

I don’t know how else to describe her behavior apart from manic.  Like, when it was time to order, if I asked her for a menu, she would bring me the menu, and for fifteen minutes after I had called to place the order she would still be rooting through the drawers looking for more / other menus.  She would get herself so worked up that sometimes while we were sitting downstairs hanging out she’d have to go up and be sick.

All this just to give you a sense of what she used to be like.

Anyway.  I’m driving her home from an appointment on Wednesday, and she’s commenting how all of us just naturally turn into their mothers as we get older, even though we don’t want to.  In that I stayed dead silent through this observation I think she recognized that I disagreed.  So then she moved on to how different some daughters are from their mothers, especially in the kitchen.

And she said to me, “Like when I cook, I have to clean as I go along, I can’t just put everything in the sink until later.  Remember when you used to come over to eat, and you’d say to me, ‘Mom, come and eat, the food is ready!’ and I’d be so busy cleaning up that I wouldn’t even realize!”

And I’m like, “....”

Because that’s not what happened.  That’s not even fucking remotely what happened.  So she has spun the reality where she is an out-of-control manic drug addict and spun it into a funny story about how she’s such a neat freak that she doesn’t realize it’s time to eat.

I was sorely tempted to correct her, but at the last second realized it wouldn’t make a difference either way.  She is never going to look back on her behavior with any kind of clarity, and trying to force her to do so would just make the day end on a sour note.  If she wants to live in delusion, that’s on her.  I can tolerate it, but I’m certainly not going to feed into it by saying something like, “Yes, that’s precisely how it happened.”

She’ll have to learn to interpret the silence on her own.

Anyway, I guess that’s it.  Greatly looking forward to getting home and having a nice night on the couch, or maybe playing Sims some more.  I may even make some tea.

I hope all of you are doing well <3

[migleefulmoments]

The ccers are just like the gop

Watching the Impeachment testimony today it’s a nightmare for the gop and Trump. Ambassador Sondland has admitted everything we knew was true using the words “Quid Pro Quo” and admitting that everyone in Trump’s administration knew.  Watching the gop then try to defend Trump is a disaster or outrageous lies, conspiracy theories, and distraction.  

Reading this thread from the cc coven, I’m reminded of how similar their tactics are to the gop’s. This thread is full of lies and conspiracy theories that have been duped and yet these people- like Nunes, Jordan, and Stipanik- clearly believe the lies they share. The two groups have built their knowledge bases on these lies. These faulty foundations don’t hold up to even the smallest of scrutiny. People living in reality can see the faults, but sadly ccers and the gop don’t see reality and live in an imaginary world where they are always right.  

ajw720 answered:

It is hard to me to select the one thing that i find the most offensive, there are just so many.  They have also named at least 2 drinks based on breast size, Good Rak (I forget the exact name) and R2DD2.  you know reducing women to their body parts.  And of course the one called C3PHO that is implying that women should be called whores if they decide to exercise their sexual freedom.  And we are even touching on the innuendo which maybe isn’t offensive, but is extraordinarily immature.  Or the fact that they have naked women gyrating on the bar and simulating sex with teddy bears in a PIANO BAR where on a different night you can sing d/isney tunes! (Abby refuses to understand that the drink names are NOT to belittle women but to take ownership of the words away from those who use them against us. She has been told this but she needs to be angry at Mia so she refuses to even think about it=faulty foundation)

But hey, according to her stans, I am closed minded and they are progressive. (yep! That’s true). You know what it reminds me of?  The individuals watching the impeachment trials and daring to say that these upstanding, career public servants, many of whom serve both democrats and republicans, are liars because they refuse to admit the bigot in the WH is a criminal. (Nice try but no, you honey, you are those people. Faulty foundations) 

D looked really drained to me last night, and we know he is PBB free in NYC. I have to imagine the way the are smearing his name constantly is weighing heavily on his soul. My heart hurts for him.  (In fact, 3 of the 6 people in at least one of the photos has the same neutral face. Other photos, released later that night show a gleefully happy Darren=faulty foundations. Photos at the end.)  

ajw720 Can I just add one thing?  The “marriage” was forced by D’s team, and this includes his extremely powerful PR agency.  (NOT TRUE= faulty foundations) Why are they not reading and reviewing everything posted by that offensive institute prior to its release? (Because Darren controls his own life and his business is not part of what Sunshine Sachs does for Darren).  That would be working FOR THEIR CLIENT.  Instead, they are allowing that bar to actively harm his character. (Such a stupid argument.  Why would Darren continue to pay them if they were actively harming him? Abby this one is so stupid you need to stop=faulty foundations) 

I hope that there is a time D can sue them for defamation, I really do, because to me, this is an absolute outrage. (Well we are a decade in, when you believe that could happen, Abby? Ya know ....using your legal knowledge?) 

This flannel shirt theme stunt has made my blood boil more than most. (This just pisses me off.  My daughter read this post, called herself a dyke and said.“I just wish I could go.” She was wearing a flannel shirt)  

notes-from-nowhere My question is: why M has been forced to drop “s/unsetstrippa” (and f/etus but, let’s leave one of the sock account behind for a moment)? (Fetus IS NOT MIA. OMG THIS IS SO STUPID=Faulty Foundations) That was not her decision.(WTF? Of course, it is=faulty foundations)  So, why? I’ll tell you why: given that the plan was to make her relevant for everybody besides for her nanny, it was embarrassing for D (and his team) to have her tagged by colleagues and various celebrities with that childish nickname. Do not even try to tell me this is not the reason (Faulty Foundations).

So why isn’t the same level of “courtesy” reserved for your establishment? Quite frankly “s/unsetstrippa” was far less offensive than what happens constantly in&out of that place. When will we see day D will be treated with the respect that a man in his position should have by default? And above all, when his team will accept that they are no longer managing a teenage dream? Controversy as a way to make someone famous it doesn’t work as a shortcut if there is nothing behind that people might like. (I honestly don’t understand this sentence so I have no good debunk...Darren was never marketed as “teenage dream” and he certainly currently isn’t= Faulty Foundations)  

It’s time to remove D from the TS/G narrative once and for all. M dropped this place a long time ago and it has no meaning for D’s career, let alone finantial reasons since he is just the piano man and not the owner. (Well “finantial” reasons aside, Darren and Mia own the bar. They don’t work there.  -=Faulty Foundations).   

ajw720

Sadly she dropped that for another made up name that they have used to mock D.  It is unfathomable the way D is being treated.  

And honestly, I don’t know why more people aren’t screaming about this bar and how people don’t see or ignore how offensive it is. (Because only someone who refuses to live in reality actually sees the bar as problematic.  It’s a queer-safe space that celebrates the LGBTQ community in ways that MAKE SENSE TO THE LGBTQ Community.  Just because Abby doesn’t understand it doesn’t make it wrong= Faulty Foundations).  D does his best to distance himself, but it is his name front and certain in every article about the place and he is the one on TV naming it repeatedly (I love this nonsense..so is he distancing himself or is he the name that is connected often?)

Where are the people protecting the actual marketable commodity’s interest? The person with talent that is at the top of his game?  I have never seen anything like this. (Its all made up in your head=Faulty Foundations)

notes-from-nowhere You know one of the reason his team keeps ignoring things like this bar is because people bring gifts to M. (OMG...this is just a stupid thing to say) Because even if these people know everything about t his place, how rude the staff is, how undrinkable and overpriced the drinks are, how annoying and out of place “certain activities” inside of it are, they swallow their beliefs and words to go there and have a picture with D to post on their social media (This is all conspiracy theory and absolutely Faulty Foundations.  This is exactly like Nunes repeating all the conspiracy theories tied to Trump this morning. I’ve looked at these and most -if not all- of these are not real.)  

As long as there will be people that put their interests ahead of D’s wellbeing and public image, his team will keep to ignore how hurtful behaviors and bar are. They will buy an article on a random magazine that will praise the bar, D will be forced to publicly say the its name and so on. (Faulty Foundations) 

D’s team is not protecting an investment, they are making money out of people. And people is allowing them to do so.

leka-1998 Yesterday someone asked me why I keep being angry at the things they do or don’t do, at what’s going on at that bar that screams M. Why I even had to point out that flannel theme. Because I shouldn’t be surprised at all. And I’m really not, but the way they are destroying D’s character really gets me. He’s currently getting more attention due to M/idway and AB, two great projects. Both are/will be seen by a new audience. I’m sure HW will be big too. A competent and well-meaning team would care how D looks, what he’s associated with. They don’t. And no one can tell me that’s not wrong. (The idea that Darren can’t take control of his own life is pretty gross.  Nobody lives this life they imagine- it’s outrageous.  Faulty Foundations) 

ajw720 Obviously everything annoys me about the circus that surrounds him. But I can mostly laugh about the Halloween BS or and the excessive praise she receives as none of that ultimately affects D’s character and his reputation.  But this bar, it is so harmful and it potentially could be so damaging.  Imagine a theater goer looking up D after AB and finding their IG full of discriminatory themes/drinks and extremely immature innuendo. And D’s name is what that bar is associate with, not his “bride” as she doesn’t do anything, but D who is the one promoting it the media regularly.  He has not promoted anything in his life more than the bar over the past 2 years.  Not even his fake nuptials. (Yes, Imagine what it looks like that Darren’s bar is a queer safe space.  OMG How horrific!!!!!!! How doe he live with himself? The ONLY People who are upset that TSG has LGBTQ programming most nights but Disney on other nights are those who are homophobic!!!!!!!!!!!) 

And I truly do not understand how anyone dismisses this stuff or says we are the ones who are wrong. Some of the marketing ploys are blatantly and clearly offensive.  And yet it continues and no one seems to care that D is the only one that could potentially be hurt by this as it is his career that they are jeopardizing.  And M is praised as a role model for disparaging women and members of the LGBT+ community. (YOU are literally claiming that the gay women who runs Dyke Night doesn’t know anything about-or respect - her own community... but YOU do.  SHUT THE FUCK UP ABBY)   

It is revolting (yes you are) and it is really important that we document it and discuss it and continue to highlight it and I don’t care how much hate i get for doing so, people need to realize what they are doing. (The “hate” should be a  HUGE WARNING SIGN Abby. But you see EVERYTHING as proof you are right and it doesn’t matter how hard it is to get to “I’m right”, how much you have to twist the truth or makeup stories about Darren's lack of personal agency, it’s all confirmation bias for you. YOU ARE WRONG and these comments are homophobic).    And maybe it won’t be today, but at some point he will get free from his tormentors who are hell bent on destroying him and we will have the public record of everything they did to actively harm him. Faulty Foundations). 

klaineownsmysoul This is precisely the kind of place that a real pr/management team would work overtime to keep their client away from instead of pushing it relentlessly as a point of pride. There’s nothing remotely redeeming about it and like that farce of a wedding, nothing that reflects D’s personality. It’s beyond tacky and juvenile and straight out of the wheelhouse of a 20 year old frat boy. You expect me to believe that the same person who wrote beautiful songs like “Not Alone” or “TDTDIO” also decided to name a drink period sex? (Yes!!!!!! because people are complex animals.  But also because that same person wrote “Me and MY Dick” =Faulty Foundations).  the words of Trevor Noah, get the fuck out of here. But I’d expect nothing less from his team at this point: a group of people who think class and notoriety are equal. I live for the day when he gets a team to actually support him instead of trying to further themselves through him. (His team by law has to support him but also WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE STICK WIT HTHEM If they weren’t helping him?  He’s not a moron=Faulty Foundations) No one goes to events hoping to see D’s manager on the drums. There are actual musicians out there who are more than qualified. (And yet Darren chose Ricky to play drums for him=Faulty Foundations).   Go do your actual job for a change.

[fifiliphile]

Don’t Give Me Flannel (Cherik Ficlet)

[AO3 Version]

“You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU

So, yeah, here we are. It was supposed to be a shorter one-shot, around 1,000 words or so, but I sort of took that prompt and ran with it, because apparently I cannot write something without any world-building in it. But it was a pure pleasure to write, even if I should've been working on my other WIPs. *sigh*

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this short—yet still somehow almost four times longer than intended—ficlet.

It's not beta-ed, just edited and proofread by myself, so you know the drill—and I'll be really grateful for any valuable remarks!

“Can you finally go to bed?”

Although Erik’s voice is hoarse, his annoyance seeps through very clearly. As a result, the question sounds more like an order, despite it not really being Erik’s intention. Nonetheless, he’s too groggy to care.

Generally, Erik Lehnsherr has always prided himself in being quite a heavy sleeper, capable of sleeping through anything and everything ever since he remembers. Even when he was just a few years old, he would occasionally wake up to hear about the storm roaring through the night, which did little to disrupt his sleep. His mother used to joke that the bomb blowing up nearby wouldn’t manage to jolt him awake. The manifestation of his powers in the early teenage years disrupted his routine for a while, but he managed to go back to it by the time he started university, and this time he hasn’t let anything get in the way of getting a healthy amount of sleep.

Willing himself to fall asleep has never been problematic either, even with a lot of background noise. Unfortunately, it seems like the light is his ultimate weakness. He’s been struggling to doze off for quite a while now, but a small lamp still kept alight turns it into a truly challenging feat. Facing the wall that his bed was pushed to, his eyes closed shut, he’s desperately trying to force his mind to finally shut down, having already given a shot to counting sheep and focusing on his breathing. Sadly, without the comforting darkness to drown out any unwanted late-night thoughts, he is unable to succumb to sleep. The worst thing is, he’s slowly growing more and more desperate and the thought to just ask Charles—the very culprit behind his current predicament—to do this for him keeps lingering at the forefront of his mind.

A quiet groan escapes his lips as Erik turns around, towards the rustle of paper behind him. Charles Xavier, his roommate, the fellow student who also happens to be a mutant, is sitting on the carpet between their two beds, surrounded by an array of textbooks and notes. He is, by far, one of the very few people whom Erik tolerates and who somehow tolerate him in return, which is still somewhat unbelievable to Erik—how such a person as Charles, so unbearably idealistic and impossibly kind, would like to as much as simply be in his presence continues to escape his comprehension.

Nevertheless, here they are, Charles spread on the floor and Erik failing to fall asleep. Overall, Charles is quite a nice roommate, certainly much better than the previous ones that Erik was unlucky to live with. (Or maybe it was them who were unlucky enough to cross his path, Erik wonders sometimes.) Although a chatter, Charles doesn’t bother with meaningless conversations and he has a quick wit, which is even more prominent over the chessboard that they sometimes use to play, all of which make him a pleasant enough companion even on the worst of days. His bright big eyes, with their remarkable blueness only accentuated by the flannel pajamas he is currently wearing and with his floppy hair falling over them, make him look rather appealing, as a quite impressive group of both male and female students can corroborate. Despite that, Charles’s favourable looks are no more than a pleasant addition, or so Erik tries to convince himself of.

He cuts that train of thought short, though. They are friends, even though this label hardly conveys the depth of their bond. Charles may be the closest person Erik has ever been to, other than his parents, which makes him just about the only family Erik has left. To ruin the most meaningful friendship in Erik’s life due to his irrational sexual urges is just unthinkable. So he proceeds to do what he’s been doing for weeks now, burying the budding attraction deep enough that the telepath won’t see it.

“I can’t fall asleep with the light on,” he grumbles, seeing that Charles has hardly reacted to his previous question. When that doesn’t work either, Erik continues, his brows furrowing, “I have an exam tomorrow, too, you know.”

Charles finally looks up at him, and his eyes are sparkling in the warm light of his bedside lamp, his liveliness evident despite the dark circles under them. Erik shouldn’t find that sight so endearing, and yet, he’s mesmerised all the same, almost forgetting his own annoyance.

“Yeah, sorry,” Charles says apologetically, gazing down at the notebook he’s just been leafing through. His lips, even redder than usual, what with the way Charles continues to chew at them, curl into a little self-deprecating smile. Erik can’t help but trace their movements when his friend adds, “Just… five more minutes.”

It’s clear how tired Charles is, leaning on his hand which is perched up on his lap and visibly fighting off the urge to let his head drop on his notes. Erik rolls his eyes, irritated with Charles’s insistence even more so now that he sees his exhaustion. It may even explain why Erik’s own tiredness feels so profound; if Charles is on the verge of falling asleep, his shields are prone to get weaker and sometimes he starts projecting his feelings, as if his mind was trying to get rid of the sense of fatigue simply by pushing it away.

In truth, Erik doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. He minds feeling more tired than he actually is, that is, but not the mental contact itself. It never fails to surprise him, how much he actually enjoys having someone brushing against his thoughts. Of course, he believes that all mutants should be treated equally, regardless of the nature of their mutation; and yet, telepaths are often facing quite a lot of resentment, even within the mutant community itself. For many, it is one thing to pass someone with a tail or a pair of wings on the street without batting an eye, and something else entirely to have a stranger overhear your thoughts—something intimate and meant to exist only for you to listen.

Erik can understand where such reservations might come from, even though he himself doesn’t view telepathy as so problematic. In fact, the anti-psionic bias seems to be chiefly the product of ignorance—there aren’t that many telepaths, most of whom not even powerful enough to fully enter someone’s mind without touching that person or at least being in a very close proximity to them, but people nevertheless are afraid of feeling so exposed, with more than unfavourable portrayal of telepathy in the media as manipulative and exploitative only feeding their fear.

Not that telepaths are actually interested in reading or controlling everyone’s minds; the fact that is obvious to anyone who has actually met a telepath. It would be exhausting, after all, to listen closely to every thought that comes your way. Not even mentioning the fact that a lot of people think they’re incredibly interesting and worthy of attention, while, in actuality, their thoughts are mundane and their secrets nonsignificant.

Erik has crossed paths with enough telepaths to know that. Besides, if telepaths truly did always listen to one’s every thought, Charles would already bloody well know how annoyed Erik has been for quite a while now.

“You’ve been cramming it for—” Erik reaches out with his power, tugging at the magnetic lines surrounding him, and feels the hands of Charles’s watch which is still wrapped around his wrist.

The soft hum of its metal is pleasantly familiar. Charles takes it off only to sleep, and its constant presence allows Erik to sense him, even if his friend is out of sight. It never ceases to surprise Erik how comforting he finds it, the possibility to feel Charles’s warm skin against the stainless steel of the watch anytime he wishes, wherever he is.

Erik reads the hour and groans resignedly, “—for six hours straight. You know everything that you need already.”

“I have to ace it,” Charles mutters, his gaze fixed back on his notes.

He bites his lower lip, again, and it’s truly infuriating how captivating it is. Erik spends entirely too much time looking at those plush red lips of Charles’s, wondering distantly if they’re as soft as they look and if their redness would be even more intense after a thorough kiss…

It’s getting ridiculous. He shouldn’t allow himself to think such things, especially not about a telepath.

“Did you even touch the tea I made you?,” Erik demands instead, resisting the temptation to ask another question that sits at the tip of his tongue, one that is as improper as it is stupid.

A quick glance at Charles’s nightstand confirms what Erik has already suspected. The green mug with a cat and a silly chemistry pun printed on it is standing exactly where Erik put it three hours ago.

Charles looks up once again, his lips rounding in a way that is both adorable and infuriating. What’s more, the sudden movement makes his hair, ruffled from the way Charles runs his hands through them every now and then, fall down his forehead, and Erik barely battles the urge to reach out and gently brush them away.

“Oh,” Charles breathes, his wide eyes making him look like a puppy whose owner has just scolded them for something that they are absolutely guilty of. “I’m terribly sorry, my friend,” he says sheepishly, averting his gaze. “I’ve got too immersed in all of this.” His hand flies around over all the books, the sleeve of his slightly too big flannel pyjamas tumbling down his forearm and falling over his wrist.

Why Charles insists on sleeping in that atrocious thing, whose only saving grace is its nice blue colour, remains a mystery to Erik. Their dorm room is relatively warm, even in winter, and yet Charles seems to be perpetually cold at night, sleeping under a pile of blankets all year long. Erik is reluctant to admit it, but it worries him that although the summer is about to start, Charles’ nightwear hasn’t yet changed. If he’s so cold, perhaps there could be a way to warm him up a bit. Which is hardly the best line of thinking for now, because the only solutions Erik can think of involve things that he’s pretty sure Charles wouldn’t want.

A small shudder runs down his spine, and Erik has to clear his suddenly dry throat, forcing his mind to think about something else—anything else, really. He ends up recalling the details of a few cases which will most probably prove to be useful during tomorrow’s exam, trying not to wonder how it would be to wrap his arms around Charles and pull him under the covers.

Frustratingly, even repeating in his head what he already knows by heart isn’t tedious enough to put his mind to sleep.

“You can’t keep doing that.” Erik’s voice sounds annoyed even to his own ears, more so than before.

“I know, I know…,” Charles says under his breath, clearly having completely recovered from his previous mortification.

“You should’ve started earlier.” Erik’s tone might be a bit too harsh, certainly more than he intended. He can’t help himself but be frustrated, though, what with everything that watching Charles raise his hand and gently tap his fingers against his lips does to Erik’s insides.

Charles sighs, burying his face in his hands. “I know that too.” Erik can barely hear him, his voice muffled by his fingers, but he can tell that Charles must be annoyed with himself too. “Just… this isn’t half as interesting as the project I’m working on,” he explains, with an edge to his tone.

Erik rolls his eyes, though there’s hardly any malice behind the gesture. “I can believe that, but it’s getting annoying,” he says a little less sternly, despite his patience seriously dwindling.

“Sorry.” But Charles doesn’t look so sorry as he grabs one of the textbooks and opens it, back in that study mode of his.

Taking a deep breath, Erik barely refrains from raising his voice, his irritation only worsened by the worry about Charles’s awful sleeping habits. “You know all of that. Go to bed already.”

Charles’s thoughts are clearly far away from their conversation when he mumbles, “Just… let me finish—”

“Charles, you’re overtaxing yourself.” Erik’s tone is yet again harsh, though this time he can’t keep worry out of his voice.

The telepath doesn’t even respond, his whole attention at the textbook on his lap. Despite his immersion in the text, Charles’s head continues to be drooping, his back leaning heavily on the frame of his bed, and Erik doesn’t know what to do anymore to make this man finally get some sleep.

It’s still somewhat bewildering to him, to care for another person’s well-being so much that he starts completely brushing aside his own. It’s not like he is uncaring, but ever since his parents passed away Erik hasn’t allowed himself to get too close to other people. His wounds haven’t properly healed yet, and the thought of losing anyone else is so unbearable that he’d rather isolate himself than face the prospect of going through that again. Yet, he finds himself growing more and more fond of Charles with every passing day.

Although everyone seems to love Charles—that goes without question—Erik isn’t like everyone and a creature of very little trust, so he can’t be easily swayed into liking someone, even if confronted with the smoothest of flattery. But Charles isn’t like anyone else either and hardly an overconfident and snobbish smooth talker that Erik thought he was upon their first meeting. It took more than a couple of heated discussions during quite a few classes and the mutant rights club meetings and one memorable party, however, for Erik to start appreciating Charles’s seemingly endless enthusiasm, his infuriating idealism and the admirable faithfulness to his own ideals, and, most of all, his unconditional kindness. 

As a cynic and a firm believer in the need for separation between baseline humans and mutants, Erik naturally would never agree with Charles’s integrationist ideas, though deep down he has to begrudgingly admit that such an approach might be beneficial in some instances. Besides, it’s not his fault, really, that Erik can’t resist that warm laughter, the playful quirk of that red mouth, and the mischievous glint in those hauntingly blue eyes. If he didn’t know much about telepathy, he’d think that this endearing charm is just a trick, but he knows better. Charles really happens to be just as charming, as if having the magnetic personality of an opposite pole, whose call is quite hard for Erik to resist.

Which doesn’t make Charles’s late-night study sessions any less irritating.

Erik must do something to make Charles finally go to sleep, and if the Charles way of talking and negotiating doesn’t work, it’s time for the Erik way. He slips from under the covers and jumps to the floor.

“Erik, give it back!,” Charles shrieks the second Erik snatches the book away from his hands, though his protests are much weaker than usual.

“I need sleep and so do you,” Erik says stubbornly, hugging the book to his chest. “So, just put it all away, or I’ll do that for you.”

Charles looks at him for a long moment, the exasperation in his expression mixed with something else, something odd. There’s a heaviness to his gaze that makes Erik shift minutely, slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those brilliant eyes.

“You’re insufferable sometimes,” Charles says eventually, although he doesn’t sound resigned, only mildly amused.

“You’re the one to talk,” Erik snaps back, albeit good-naturedly.

Signing once again, Charles just shakes his head, a small smile creeping on his lips. Then, he fixes Erik with a stern gaze.

“I’ll go to sleep when I finish this chapter,” he says seriously, and the determination that is colouring his eyes suggests that he won’t step down this time.

Erik purses his lips and regards him for a moment, contemplating the offer. The chances for negotiating conditions more favourable for Erik are scarce, and now is not a good time to pick up a fight. It seems best to relent.

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it,” Erik decides, slowly releasing the book from his grasp.

Charles quickly goes to grab it before he can even let go of it, the telepath’s fingers brushing against Erik’s forearms and leaving a trail of the pleasant tingling sensation behind. Erik can’t help but sit here transfixed, the plush carpet soft against the bare skin of his shins, as Charles goes back to studying. There’s something enthralling in watching him in his element—because as exhausted as Charles is, there’s still so much passion in the way he’s practically devouring what is written on the pages before him. His eyes are alight again, and his lips are moving—lightly, captivatingly—as he’s quietly repeating the crucial tidbits of information.

Erik has never wanted to kiss someone so much in his entire life.

Although the book is once again laying open on his lap and stealing all his attention, Charles looks up from it, apparently having noticed Erik’s dumbfounded expression. “You can go back to bed now,” he points out lightly, his brows drawn in mild confusion.

“Not until I tuck you in first,” Erik responds before he has time to think much about his words.

He doesn’t even get a chance to start feeling self-conscious, however, as Charles is seemingly taking it all in stride. “That won’t be necessary, my friend,” he says, giving Erik an amused look, the corner of his lips—so distractingly red—rising in a half smile, and Erik finds it hard not to stare at them.

Instead, he narrows his eyes. “We’ll see.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Charles snorts and glances down at the book, his fingers finding their way back to his mouth.

The tip of his thumb begins to slowly trace the outline of his lower lip, back and forth, drawing all of Erik’s attention to that one delicate motion. He cannot help but be hypnotised, wishing against his better judgement that he could reach out and replace Charles’s fingers with his own. To map those lips with his touch, to explore the softness against his fingertips…

Erik looks up abruptly, his eyes boring in the ceiling. Breathing out, he almost groans, but refrains from doing so not to distract Charles. It’s really of no use, allowing himself for such mental escapades. This absurd infatuation has already made Erik’s life miserable enough, there is really no need to add fuel to the flames.

Except, he finds himself unable to stop. Everytime he sees Charles, hears his warm laughter, feels his fingers brushing against his own arm, is confronted with a clever and spot-on counterargument during their arguments, or witnesses a particularly cunning move during the game of chess, Erik can’t stop his mind from being consumed yet again by the thoughts of his best friend. It’s truly a miracle that Charles hasn’t picked up on those thoughts yet, and for once Erik is grateful for Charles’s strict moral code.

Nonetheless, Erik knows he has to put an end to it. It’s just a silly crush, after all, nothing worth putting their friendship on the line. No more foolishness from now on—he’ll just focus on getting through his studies, pushing all the other matters aside.

After some time, which seems to have stretched from mere minutes to long hours, Erik abruptly hears Charles close the book. He drops his gaze in time to see his friend put it down and then proceed to gather all the rest of the study materials into a pile.

“Okay, I’ve finished, happy?,” Charles says, pushing the pile closer to his bed. “You can tuck me in now.” He looks up and momentarily furrows his eyebrows. “Erik?”

Somehow, the earnest look of those beautifully blue eyes makes Erik’s resolve snap. So much for an end to all the silliness. Before he can stop his traitorous lips from moving, the question is already leaving his mouth, the one he’s been longing to ask for so long.

“Can I kiss you?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, as Charles’s eyebrows slowly rise, disappearing underneath his dishevelled hair. He’s still for what feels like an eternity, and Erik can feel the tendrils of the telepath’s thoughts retreating from his mind, folding in on themselves, which can’t possibly bode well.

Panic begins to rise in Erik’s chest. With his breath quickening, he does his best to slip on a mask of indifference over his face, hoping against hope that Charles hasn’t seen anything damning in his mind, especially not any of those lewd thoughts he’s been having lately. But before dread can consume his mind like a wildfire, Erik sees Charles’s expression soften and then the telepath is leaning in, stopping only when his face is a few mere inches from Erik’s.

He’s so close that Erik nearly goes cross-eyed, Charles’s breath ghosting over his lips. Erik remains frozen, waiting for his friend’s response, anticipating and dreading it in equal measure. He sees that Charles’s eyes are flickering all over his face, filled with… Is it excitement, or rather nervousness? Regardless, his look is clearly inviting, so Erik lets himself hope that maybe his friend does want the same thing.

“Yes.”

For a second, Erik isn’t sure if he has heard it correctly. It was barely a whisper, and Charles agreeing to such a ridiculous request sounds too good to be true. It soon becomes clear, however, that Erik’s ears were not playing tricks on him when Charles gives him one last smile and leans in farther to close the distance between them.

Erik’s eyes close on their own accord, and it takes a heartbeat for their lips to meet. It doesn’t feel like a particularly world-changing moment—or maybe it does, just not in the way Erik expected. It’s not like a lighting strike, turning his world upside down and igniting a raging fire inside of him, but it rather feels as if long-lost puzzle pieces finally fell in their proper places.

Kissing Charles feels like coming home.

His lips are just so soft, pliable against Erik’s, the warmth of their gentle touch spreading through Erik’s whole body like little electric shocks. The kiss is rather chaste, close-mouthed; even so, Erik can feel the air between them slowly changing and starting to crackle with the kind of tension that has barely reached the surface before. The wave of excitement mixed with lust that swiftly encompasses his mind proves that he’s not the only one who notices it.

Erik senses something else, however, something much deeper and warmer, as his hands find their way to Charles’s face. He runs his fingertips over the expanse of smooth skin, gently stroking Charles’s cheeks, and he can feel the warmth rising there. He can’t help but smile against his friend’s lips, feeling an affectionate nudge in his mind in return.

And then Erik hears it, a soft murmur permeating his thoughts.

I thought you’d never ask.

If anyone's interested, here's the mug Erik was reffering to (I found it funny, don't at me ^^').

And I'm considering perhaps writing more in that 'verse, so if any of you has any ideas, prompts, or requests, I'll be more than happy to oblige ;)

(Generally, I have more in store for Cherik, especially after Dark Phoenix (we'll always have Paris, after all), but those works are also getting longer than expected. Still, I'm cautiously optimistic about finishing them in August.)

[jamlocked]

Let’s talk about John

Seeing as @raeofalbion and @summeringminor asked for it, let’s talk about John. I feel it may be unwise, but on this blog WE DIE LIKE MEN.

I want to talk about the violence and why, contrary to some things I’ve seen, it’s just…I don’t want to say, ‘not as awful as it’s made out’ but I can’t, because it is. But the reasons behind it don’t seem as alien to me as they seem to be to others.

Okay. So, first off, let’s talk about the British cultural thing I mentioned on this post, that I feel is sometimes overlooked (understandably) by those overseas. And I’m not condoning his behaviour in any way as a result of this, just pointing it out.

See, in my generation, it was always perfectly normal to utter casual threats of violence. Keep in mind that John is about ten years older than me, or something – I forget what year S4 is supposed to take place in - so this is even more true of his generation. Even when I was a kid, it was perfectly normal to say, ‘shut up, or I’ll kick your head in’. My mother would tell me, ‘I’ll skin you,’ if I was cheeky. When I was a teenager, my mates and I were all, ‘shut your mouth or you’ll get a slap’…and the thing is, none of us ever did these things, it was/is just a way of speaking in the UK. Hyperbole. There’s a very definite line, and people would rarely make the jump into actually doing any of it. But this is why John making statements like, ‘I could break every bone in your body while naming them’ does not read as abusive to me, it just reads as a standard, ‘shut your face because you’re annoying me’ statement.

Another mitigating factor – John was in the army. Now, my dad was in the army. So was my uncle. My best friend in my twenties was a senior cadet instructor, and I very nearly joined up myself a couple of times. I also played rugby – as John does/did – and spent my teenage years surrounded by lads with pints in their hands, threatening each other with a kicking while still being the best of mates. I went on holiday with an ex-paratrooper who told me that the regiment celebrated the arrival of new recruits by stuffing them in a locker and chucking them down a hill. This mate spent his first two months as a para recovering from a broken leg, collarbone and arm as a result of this initiation. (The guy was also utterly mental in other ways, but that’s another – very army – thing).

My point is…if you’re British and of a certain age, if you’ve been in the services, if you like macho sports and hanging out in that sort of company…there’s a certain way of speaking and behaving. And John is an intelligent man and a doctor, so not fully subscribed to this – I think it’s made pretty clear that he’s an outsider in some respects - but he also goes on holiday with his rugby mates, he’s addicted to danger and adrenaline, and he’s only happy when chasing down criminals with a (pretend) sociopath. He’s not portrayed as a sensitive type. He’s just more sensitive than Sherlock to social niceties, and spends his time pointing them out to him. But in the context of his age, the country he lives in, his background job, his hobbies, his current chosen way of living…his casual threats of violence don’t seem out of place to me.

(I will add at this point that speaking this way seems less of a thing, nowadays. Most of my friends now are about ten years younger than me, Oxford graduates, generally Woke, and would never dream of talking like that to anyone. Hurrah for the younger generation!)

HAVING SAID ALL THAT. John’s actions in S4 – specifically when he beat Sherlock up in TLD – were reprehensible. I could write a whole other essay on why, ‘a relationship would complete you as a human being’ was just awful, and…maybe I’ll get into that in a bit, because NO NO NO. But we’re talking about violence here, and why he seemed to start S1 as a generally affable guy with problems, and ended up shoeing Sherlock in the ribs on the tiles of a morgue. Of course that was gross. He crossed a line that few people go over, and the worst thing about it all was that Sherlock just accepted that he deserved it.

But again, the seeds of this were in him all along, and you can argue that yes, it made his character go to a really horrible place, but also that it was an action born out of circumstances and was there specifically to highlight just how much trouble John was in at the time. It also served as a plot device, because the relationship between John and Sherlock – the nucleus of the whole show – had to break down to its lowest point before they could rebuild it for a glorious coming-back-together in the final episode. It’s a standard redemption arc, where both heroes start high, fall to the pits, and then come through it together, stronger. It’s one thing to have John freezing Sherlock out and Sherlock nearly killing himself with drugs to get him back…that’s a slow-burn falling apart, and it’s hurtful but it’s not exciting. When you’re making ratings TV for the majority of people who are not in fandom, and just want their excitement fix once every few years, then you need a crunch point. A visual representation of how bad things have become. So, you get John literally kicking a man when he’s down, blaming him for the death of his wife. It brings it home to a mass audience.

…damnit, I had so many other things in my head about this the other night, and they’ve all deserted me. Never mind, let’s move on to the big Lack of Apology.

I am one of those who would love, beyond all else, for John to have stood in front of Sherlock at the end and the end of that episode, and said, ‘I’m sorry for assaulting you. I’m sorry for blaming you for Mary, when she was her own person and made her own choices. I know you did your best for her’. That would have been lovely.

At the same time…I think it says a lot about their relationship that he didn’t say it. I don’t think Sherlock needed him to, no matter how much we know Sherlock deserved to hear it. I think this was an instance of Moftiss trusting the audience a little bit. Quite simply, the fact that John stood in front of Sherlock and admitted, ‘what it is…is shit’, and then cried – Sherlock and John don’t do vulnerability with each other. They take the piss and call each other names, and are downright insulting a lot of the time (‘I always hear ‘punch me in the face when you talk’…’you’re an idiot – oh, don’t look like that, most people are…’). Sherlock drugs John without consent (twice), and sets an imaginary dog on him in Baskerville. John quips about Asperger’s. They’re friends, but they’re not soft with each other. They’re British men of a certain generation (written by British men of a certain generation). So, John came to Sherlock after all the shit that happened, and he admitted that he wasn’t doing well, and Sherlock stood up and hugged him and told him he was a human being. Sherlock knew he was sorry, or he wouldn’t have come. John knew Sherlock has been beating himself up over Mary, or he wouldn’t be in the state he was in. They accepted each other back into their lives, and tacitly agreed to move on. They’re intelligent men, they knew what they’d been through, they knew they were both sorry. And from there, they go onto TFP, having each other’s backs once more and finishing the season running together side by side.

I’m probably missing loads of important stuff, because I haven’t watched S4 since it aired. But the feeling that has stayed with me since I watched it, is that nothing that happened in the first two eps was good between them, but nothing was particularly out of character either. John beat Sherlock up because he was wracked with guilt over thinking about having an affair, and then Mary died. Him beating Sherlock up was an eruption of that guilt, transferring it onto the easiest person to blame. And of course that’s an awful thing, but he’s supposed to be a human being. People do that shit all the time. The fact that Sherlock forgives him is a whole other kettle of fish (let’s not get into his whole lack of self-esteem), but what is true friendship if not seeing someone at their very worst, and loving them anyway? I don’t think – I hope – that no one believes John makes a habit of that, and beats Sherlock up once a week for the rest of their lives. It was a one-off thing that came from a very particular set of circumstances.

…okay, I’m going to shut up. This isn’t me defending John as a character, because honestly he’s always been one of the least interesting to me as a whole. But I do think he’s integral to everything that happens, and I see a lot of readings of his behaviour as completely OOC, or that somehow he’s a poor representation of friendship (I mean, he is in lots of ways but Sherlock’s often worse). I just…prefer to look at him as character, rather than some idealisation of How Friends Should Act towards one another. He’s not there to represent an ideal friend, or be an ideal person. He’s a foil to Sherlock who, let’s face it, is Problematic with a capital P. Yes, John functions better in society, but it’s a certain section of society. He’s a bloke who plays rugby and dates a string of women, and doesn’t remember details of their lives. He’s a bloke that chafes at domestic living (very clear in S3) and seeks excitement, so he texts another woman in S4. He’s not any kind of ideal. He’s just a bloke, and he falls apart when his wife dies, and it brings out the very worst of him. Sherlock accepts that, and they move on. It may be an unpleasant character arc, but I just don’t see it as being one that’s inherently OOC.

(But fuck Moftiss for ‘a relationship would complete you as a human being’, fuck them fuck them fuck all the way off.)

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Ruby Rose

This is a reposting from Sept. 22nd, 2017 in an effort to get all my recaps onto tumblr. Thanks!

I am combat ready! Or at least writing ready. For ages now I've wanted to tackle a comprehensive recap/analysis of each RWBY webisode and what better time to start then a few weeks before Volume 5? Though I'll mostly be sticking to plot points as they occur chronologically, any new RWBY viewers should be aware that recaps will include spoilers, mostly in the form of referencing foreshadowing and parallels. Read at your own risk. 

Let's get started.

Our series technically opens with four trailers (which you can no more skip than Doctor Who fans can skip Nine), but for the purposes of this recap we're saying that we start the show off with an origin tale. A fairy tale, if you will. Our very first shot is of a high tower decked out in green, beacon-like lights that I'm sure are in no way symbolic standing atop it.

Our narrator, an unknown woman, begins with a cryptic message:

“Legends, stories scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts of a forgotten past.”

Obviously not everyone has forgotten these legends, considering that she's the one telling us them, but right from the start there's a dichotomy set up. There are people, humans, who view the past as something that inherently includes them. Any myths that are passed down are about humans--they're the "exploits of heroes and villains." However, this woman reminds us that there was an existence long before mankind was created; that the world, its history, and its power is far more vast than we're willing to acknowledge. Or able to. 

We're small in comparison. We're just "remnants" of something far larger.

(Also, interestingly, note the "we" in "we are remnants." We learn a lot about Salem later on and no matter how she might look or act, she seems to view herself as human.)

From there on we're given the story of man's creation. Born from dust into an "unforgiving world" already populated by monsters, were it not for their discovery of certain elements--a power that they named "dust" after their own origins--they never would have survived, let alone flourished. Power allowed for civilization. As the story supposedly resolves, we get a change in animation style, moving from the story-book imagery to the real world. The focus on a shattered moon suggests that, despite humanity’s success, things are not all peachy-keen.

Also, enter these guys.

This is Roman and I just love his entrance. RWBY is a show that is very overt in its tropes and homages, and though there's complexity later on, for now Roman and his goons are pretty straight-forward. They're Bad. How do we know they're Bad? Because they're creeping out of the shadows late at night. We've got this guy smoking in an age where the habit is thoroughly demonized. All his goons are pretty identical in true, gangster fashion and Roman himself is the most flamboyantly dressed, drawing on a long (and very problematic) tradition of queer-coding villains. He's wearing a bowler hat for heaven's sake, which is basically just a step up from a fedora.

He's also a redhead. That'll be important.... later.

For now, Roman struts down the street (giving us a hilarious first-look at RWBY's silhouette background characters) and Salem changes her tone, suddenly sounding far more menacing as she lays out humanity's inevitable destruction. All lights "flicker and die" and we're warned that "there will be no victory in strength." The only thing that keeps the scene from becoming depression central is the introduction of a new voice, a man's that--if you're paying attention--you'll recognize later in the episode:

"But perhaps victory is in the smaller things that you've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul."

Pan down to this cutie.

Wow! I wonder who the small, honest soul could be? 

(Also take note of the ad on the back of the magazine: the Schnee logo with the tagline "The Finest of them All." Weiss, based off of Snow White, is therefore "the fairest of them all." Or at least she thinks she is.)

Roman barges in and starts talking about how hard it is to find a dust shop open this late which... raises a number of questions for me? Like why they're looking for a dust shop that's open at all. Why not just wait until everything is closed down and then rob the place? It certainly wouldn't be hard to break in. Given what we know of the villains' larger plans in Volume 3, it could be that they want to sow fear in the people of Vale by committing robberies in plain sight (recall the horrified background characters as Roman walks by), but if so why not actually attack in broad daylight? Overall it just seems like a strange comment.

We're given our first glimpse of Roman as an ambivalent villain as he refuses the shopkeeper's money. He's here only to complete his mission of stealing dust, not entirely wipe the guy out so... yay, I guess?

One of the goons notices our little red riding hood and pulls a sword on her, which is kind of hilarious. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it's because right after that a different goon pulls out a gun which is obviously the more logical weapon here. But no. Goon #1 needs his massive, red sword to threaten the small child with.

Small Child is not impressed.

"Are you robbing me?"

"Yes!"

"Ooooh."

And she proceeds to kick him from the back of the store all the way into the far wall.

Let's take a moment to appreciate Roman's dafaq face here:

This is a technique nearly two decades old. Everyone knows the story of how Buffy got started. Whedon wanted a stereotypical heroine--small, cute, blonde--but who, rather than getting killed by the monster in the alleyway, ends up being the very thing that the monster should fear. It's an oldie now, but a goodie. We're presented with this tiny, adorable girl who is characterized as a victim, only to find that she's the one with the most power. Not only can she kick a full-grown man across a room, she's got some crazy weaponry tucked away too.

This is, by definition, a badass moment.

As we see in the ensuing fight this little girl is very proficient with her scythe. There's a great moment as her headphones play "This Will Be the Day" diegetically, only for the song to move into non-diegetic soundtrack, and then back to diegetic music as she turns off her headphones and... they disappear? Presumably she has pockets.

Iffy animation aside, RWBY seems like the kind of world that would give its girls pockets.

Roman: "Okay... get her."

That little moment of confusion--Roman's disbelieving "Okay?"--seems a little like inconsistent world-building. Certainly he knows that Signal and Beacon aren't too far from here, meaning that there are lots of teenagers around, Huntsmen and Huntresses in training that are capable of kicking his henchmen's ass. Is he just thrown off guard by this girl's (even younger) age? Who can say.

Regardless, she handles all the goons with ease. Ruby (yeah, let's just use all names for simplicity's sake) has a direct and efficient fighting style. This is our first glimpse into the maturity hiding behind a seemingly immature outer shell. Ruby doesn't take the time to taunt the goons or get all flashy with her fighting, she just takes them out, pure and simple, something that young and confident heroes often struggle with. Roman proves a little harder though when his cane turns out to be a gun.

Lesson One: pretty much everything in RWBY is a gun. Cane? Gun. Scythe? Gun. Thermos? Gun! That lamp? Probably also a gun.  

As Roman escapes we get another glimpse of Ruby's priorities when she asks the storekeeper, "Are you okay if I go after him?" It's a small but wonderful moment that tells us Ruby isn't a hero who wants to fight for the sake of fighting, at least outside of friendly competitions. Had the storekeeper been injured or needed her for some other reason, Ruby would have held his needs above just catching the bad guys. That's important.

So, having gotten the a-okay, Ruby chases Roman up to the rooftops and we hear his annoyed (yet impressed?) mutter of, "Persistent." Just as they're about to duke it out again an airship arrives that Roman boards, throwing out a dust crystal that explodes when he shoots it. It looks like Ruby might have been caught in the blast, but at the last possible second Glynda Mother-F***ing Goodwitch arrives to save the day.

Why was she out in town this late at night? How did she feel seeing some tiny child fighting a notoriously wanted criminal up on the rooftop? These are questions only fanfic can answer. The point is that Glynda saves Ruby not once, but twice, all while exhibiting a truly impressive amount of power. It's here that we first get to see not just fantasy weapons, but what we might term magic (in what will quickly become a fairly convoluted magical system). It isn’t until later that we realize others don’t consider Glynda’s abilities to be magic, though given what we now know about semblances and their assumed connection to Humanity 1.0, it’s perhaps no coincidence that the audience is meant to think this is magic at first glance. But telekinesis--the ability to manipulate anything from objects to the weather itself--is staggering nonetheless and the show should really give Glynda something else to do with her power besides fixing craters and broken buildings. Or just bring her back, period. 

Glynda even makes a little "Humph" sound when she blocks the blast like, "Please. You'll have to try harder than that."

They do.

Roman yells to the pilot that they have a "Huntress" to deal with and we're given glimpses of a more important villain: fancy dress, high heels, strange tattoo on her back, and an affinity for fire. She's deemed important simply by the fact that the 'camera' always keeps her face hidden from view, inviting speculation as to who she is and what her motives are. Though she and Glynda seem pretty evenly matched (with Ruby joining in to help), Roman flies them out of there before things get more heated. Pun intended.

As a side note, it’s worth pointing out that, in retrospect, we did just see magic with Cinder... which we then assume for a very long stretch was her semblance given what we quickly learn about Glynda. You can see why this stuff gets muddled. The fact that Ruby, a bright and fighting obsessed girl, doesn’t seem to think it odd that someone can shoot fire just hammers home how not magic-y these abilities read to characters in world. Until the plot suddenly wants them to. AKA bird anger. 

Regardless, as the viewer cheers at the rarity of three women dominating a fight scene, Ruby has bigger things to think about. Like the fact that Glynda is a Huntress and Ruby just has to have an autograph.

Cut from this:

To this:

Humor aside, this actually does a lot for situating what a Huntress is in the viewer's mind. We might not have an exact definition yet, but we know two important things: they're on the side of our small hero (Glynda protects Ruby) and they're regarded as at least minor celebrities. In short, they're the Big Good to the mysterious Big Bad.

They’re also, as we’re about to see, subject to the law. 

But back to Ruby. See that spotlight? Glynda has this 15yo girl in an interrogation room, prowling about while lecturing that she "put herself and others in grave danger." Interesting. What others were in danger? Civilians? Looks like everyone else cleared the streets once Roman showed up. The shopkeeper? As said, Ruby was very careful about making sure he was okay. Normally I’d be 100% on Glynda’s side here, but I think Ruby actually acted very maturely given the circumstances. Especially considering that she’s right: they started it. Glynda’s generic reprimands might imply that there are many non-Huntsmen trained fighters out there making a mess of things (at least by Glynda's standards). Certainly we later see conflict between trained Huntsmen/Huntresses and those who learned to fight "outside the kingdom." 

Also... just reminding everyone... that Glynda uses a riding crop. Rooster Teeth had to know the can of worms they were opening with that little choice. If you don't want porn of the deputy headmistress and various other characters, don't dress her like a dominatrix and give her lines like, "I'd have sent you home with a pat on the back... and a slap on the wrist!"

Glynda is very serious that Ruby would be in big trouble if it weren't for the fact that a certain someone wants to meet her. Enter my trash fave:

Ozpin.

He's basically Dumbledore if he actually had better justifications for his iffy decisions and looked like a hot 30yo. My priorities aside, more fascinating questions start cropping up. How long has Ruby been held in this room? What was that conversation between Glynda and Ozpin like--Hey, I found this random child who nearly took out a whole criminal gang, that seems like your kind of thing? Why does Ozpin arrive with a full plate of chocolate chip cookies? Did he bake them himself? Does Ruby ever get Glynda’s autography?

These kinds of questions are the lifeblood of fandom.

As an aside, I'm a complete animation snob. I've been spoiled by too many great artists to immediately accept just anything you throw up on screen. When I first watched this episode and saw Crunchy Roll's review that RWBY is "lovely to look at" my response was, "...seriously?" This moment, when Ozpin gives Ruby the cookies and they proceed to just disappear as they approach her mouth was my breaking point for a while. I had to be talked into watching more... and I'm so glad I was. Now, after years with these characters, I have a much deeper appreciation for the art style and the beauty that RWBY contains. Now the cookie scene is just straight up funny to me.

Back to plot though. Ozpin introduces himself by introducing Ruby. We get her name for the first time and as Ozpin peers down at her he says, "You have... silver eyes," which confuses Ruby and has the viewer nodding sagely. Yep. That'll come back later.

Ozpin reviews Ruby's fight and wants to know where she learned all that. More specifically, he wants to know who taught her to use "one of the most dangerous weapons ever designed," which is another fascinating moment that I think is largely overlooked by the fandom. Ruby is living in a world chock-full of crazy dangerous weaponry. Already we've seen a gun-cane and a riding crop used as a wand. The fact that Ozpin labels Ruby's sniper-scythe as one of the most dangerous not only re-emphasizes her skill, but hints that the scythe may be a particularly powerful weapon... one even he might favor. Though we later get to see Ozpin fight with his cane and he clearly prefers that form, we've yet to get a full explanation for those gears in it:

In retrospect after Volume 6, there’s little evidence that his cane turns into a full other weapon, but it was an cool theory for a while. 

Ruby says proudly that her Uncle Qrow taught her everything and that she's currently a student at Signal Academy.

Ozpin: "And what's an adorable girl like you doing at a school designed to train warriors?"

Ruby: "Well... I want to be a Huntress."

Ozpin: "You want to slay monsters?"

Ruby: "Yeah."

Ruby launches into an excited speech about following in her big sister's footsteps, looking for a career that's more "romantic" than the police, and above all getting to help people. Watching Ozpin in this scene gives us a pretty clear view into his thoughts: his shock at Ruby's proficiency with the scythe, making sure he's reading the situation correctly (this small, adorable child wants to fight evil?), his look of approval as Ruby tries to explain her thinking. There's even what I read as a little test. "You want to slay monsters?" A major theme in RWBY is that people are the real monster, the biggest threat, and it takes Ruby a long time to learn that. To semi-quote Sirius, the world isn't split into good people and Grimm. Though Ruby doesn't realize this yet--she just implies that she wants to fight Grimm--her skill and pure intentions (which will come into play later during "Mountain Glenn") are enough for Ozpin to offer her a place at Beacon two years early. As we learn later, as an added bonus this also helps keep her safe. Those with silver eyes are hunted and Ruby has not been keeping a low profile. 

"You want to come to my school? Well... okay."

One of these teachers is happier about this situation than the other.

It’s pretty amazing though.

Yang thinks it's amazing too. We jump ahead an unspecified amount of time to meet Ruby's half-sister on the airship to Beacon. I adore their interaction here because so often media limits sibling relationships to arguing and competition. Not so with these two. Yang isn't at all jealous that her little sister is getting special treatment. Ruby is the only one with issues:

Ruby: "I got moved ahead two years... I just don't want people to think I'm special or anything."

Yang: "But you are special."

Ruby just wants to be a normal girl with normal knees. No bee's knees allowed.

As Ruby begins struggling with her new situation we get Roman's name in a news bulletin, along with a hilariously different art style.

We also get reference to people called "Faunus" who possess animal traits, their civil rights movement, and the violent organization called the White Fang that recently interfered in a peaceful protest. The bulletin is cut off by a holographic Glynda's welcome.

Yang: "Who's that?"

Glynda's hologram introduces herself immediately after, but I find it funny that Ruby doesn't even look like she's going to try and answer. As if she hadn't met and fought alongside Glynda just a little while ago. Also. Ruby knew exactly who Ozpin was. Didn't have a clue about Glynda. Poor Professor Goodwitch does all the work around Beacon and receives none of the credit lol.  

I actually really like Glynda's speech here though. She's welcoming to the students without coddling them. Like other shows with children entering combat, RWBY lets the viewer know that we can't always apply our real-world morality to these situations. These kids might be young--17 years old and 15 in Ruby's case--but they're going to be treated like adults for as long as that’s logical. As we’ll see later though, there’s a distinct difference between responsibility inside school and out... 

Right before our pilot ends we're introduced to Jaune, or the name we know him by so far, "Vomit Boy." The webisode ends on a light note with Jaune getting puke on Yang's shoes and the two sisters freaking out about it. We're also given our first, gorgeous look at Beacon:

Now that’s animation I can get behind. Everything is light and happy. Ah, they have no idea the horror that's coming for them. Just wait until Volume 3.

Until then, 💚

[thenightling]

Re: Castlevania drama

So apparently Confessavia decided to block me because they “looked through” my blog and saw “anti-SJW content” (SJW = Social Justice Warriors, for the handful who don’t know what that means)  and the recent (and ironically 90% joking) feud with Cisphobia and I. 

Edit: You know, if you’re going to block someone without just cause, you probably should check to make sure the incidents you reference weren’t from an event from twelve hours after the blocking.  I and Cisphobia didn’t interact until after you blocked me and it ultimately ended in the meme equivalent of a playful dance off.  But nice effort in seeking reason to justify mistreating someone who never wronged you.  

The blocker also claimed that my response to their post was dramatic (that was the idea... It wasn’t an attack on them, it was just meant to be a little segway into a rant because of other crap I’ve dealt with here on Tumblr...) and they also said that there is... no one on Tumblr who calls Dracula Problematic.

  (Ha-f---king ha!)  REALLY!?  YOU RUN A CASTLEVANIA BLOG AND NEVER SEEN THAT?!?

...HOW?!

There are Once upon a Time blogs that call Rumplestiltskin problematic, even now, even though the series finale literally had him ascend to Heaven! 

There are people on here who call The Shape of Water problematic.  And at least two people who called Daredevil problematic / Ableist (A blind character) for calling another character (who wanted to kill people) “Crazy.”  

This is Tumblr!  Don’t you know EVERYTHING is problematic on here?!

Ironic.  Funny how someone who doesn’t even know me leapt to such incredible conclusions about me as a person and was so swift to judge and condemn me...

_______________________

My response to this:

Um….  okay….

Before you leap to conclusions about a person’s personality, you probably should have noticed Cisphobia and I were mostly just f–king around with each other and joking by the end of the “argument” and responding to each other with anime memes.   And I never actually disagreed with their intent.

However if you had searched my blog and searched under “Fred Saberhagen” or “The Dracula Tape” “Dracula” or even “Castlevania” there are most certainly conversations from people who called Dracula, and depictions of Dracula problematic.

How the Hell do you search my blog and NOT find me defending depictions of Dracula against people who bashed the character?!

Here is a response I was forced to give after someone went on a long rant against The Dracula tape (a novel by the late Fred Saberhagen) and The Dracula series by the late Fred Saberhagen.  This has happened at least three times but this was the first.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/147441223978/addressing-issues-with-the-person-reading-the

(And that was immediately after the late Fred Saberhagen’s widow joined Tumblr so she had to read people bashing her husband’s book series because the narrator was “problematic.”)

There’s another post (which I can’t seem to find right now) where someone bitched about how it must contain the “Sexism of the seventies” in Saberhagen’s The Dracula Tape (because it was published in 1976.  As if people forget when Interview with the vampire was first published...)

And at least one post talking about how “Creepy” it is he watches a teenage girl sleep in An Old Friend of the Family (also by Fred Saberhagen).  Umm...  He’s Dracula, it’s kind of supposed to be a little creepy.  Even if he is narrating and trying to make it sound romantic, you’re supposed to read between the lines because he’s most the most honest of narrators.

Also check out this Casltevania post where this poor person who wanted a fan fic of Dracula and Lisa reunited in the afterlife was told by other “fans’ that he is damned and it’s never gonna happen- they can never be reunited, ever.   They were bullied about it so I stepped in.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/181241099958/he-will-never-alucardtepesfahrenheit-shame-on

There are other Castlevania fans who were asked to mark their Dracula posts with “Child abuse” . There are people who headcanon that Dracula was a very abusive dad in Castlevania because there are some Alucard fans as protective of their cinnamon roll as Marvel Loki fans. (Yes, I once got a request to tag an Odin post as “child abuse... just for mentioning Odin...).    

Here’s my rant response I wrote in regard to some Youtube comments upset that Dracula in Marvel comics “is no longer straight.”

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/183667354468/draculas-bisexuality-in-pop-culture

There’s a Mina RPer on here who bashes anyone who happens to like the 1992 film Bram Stoker’s Dracula because she hates the idea of Dracula and Mina as a couple and tries to shame everyone who likes it, even if they know it’s not in the novel.

There was also someone who joined my Gothic horror group on Facebook (A man I’ll call a white knight) who was very protective of Winona Ryder’s Mina to the point of diminishing the character’s agency to “protect” her and insisted the Gary Oldman version of Dracula “took advantage” of Mina and in his protective / defense of Mina went on rants that made her sound like an idiot and damsel who didn’t know what she was doing or under a spell for most of the film and needed a “Good” man to tell her what to do and think, it was offensive in its sexism disguised as feminism. 

Check out how many people comment on clips from the 1992 film or write essays about Dracula and how he’s going to Hell, completely ignoring the DVD commentary...

But sure, no one calls him problematic... ever... that never happens.  Nope.  (Sarcasm intended.) 

And back in 2011 I started to do online RP depictions of Dracula on IMVU and I, myself, dealt with people coming into the RP room with characters who can “sense who is damned and who is saved.”  Not only did I deal with people certain he would burn in eternal Hellfire but when I’d tell them that sort of power to sense eternal damnation or salvation was too extreme I’d get responses of “lol, he’s Dracula!  It’s not like Dracula can be saved.” Arguing with me when I mention that the idea of his soul being saved / him ascending to Heaven was actually an aspect of Stoker’s original novel as Mina talked about saving his soul which brought the other heroes to tears. And so they were relieved by the look of peace on his face when they killed him (in the novel).    

But okay…

Again, all this happened because I made the mistake of agreeing with the post on Confessionvania’s blog and going on a rant in my agreeing with them... Somehow they (and another person) drastically misunderstood I was being supportive in their stance.  There was ...nothing to disagree with...

You (person who blocked me) made a lot of false and wrongful judgements about me but I don’t have the will right now to defend myself. So have a good day.

PS, let it be known I am pro-Trans rights and am a member of the LGBT community (Pan romantic demi).  I’m a woman. I believe in true equality of the sexes as intended by Mary Wollstonecraft.  I’m somewhere between buddhist and Wiccan in my spiritual beliefs. I am what is considered legally blind (poor eyesight) and have no clue what my paternal racial background is.  But I really shouldn’t require a checklist to be considered a human being here on Tumblr. And yet here we are... again...

Funny how someone can read through my blog, decide I’m a bad person, and the reason for my rant was imaginary and miss all of that, as well as several posts that were in defense of Dracula...

Ah, well.  I don’t like defending myself against strangers but I also loathe misinformation.  So here’s the truth as I perceive it, for better or worse.  Take it or leave it. 

Edit: Note.  I just checked the time stamps.  The Castlevania Confessions blog blocked me BEFORE Cisphobia and I played our little trollish game.  So nice try in attempting to use that as the excuse for blocking someone who never wronged you...   I guess you searched my blog for justifications after the fact and didn’t check to see when things were posted when attempting to use them as righteous reasons to mistreat others.

That’s all right.  I have no interest in liars.  And now the world knows you to be one.  That’s justice enough.