actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.
he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.
a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).
but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.
and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.
he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.
and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal
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Literally a genuine question no ill intent
What do you like about Aira? As much as people are absolutely adamant Akira is projecting (I really don't think he is (I'm not saying Akira is innocent) I just think he's trying to address the prejudiced thoughts the average Japanese person will have on the Ainu) Aira's weird comments and behaviour to Hiiro have been there since day one. And I also think Aira being the one who says all this is because he's supposed to reflect the fans and the average Japanese fan probably isn't that educated on the Ainu + there can be a good few racist enstars fans...
I'm not trying to sound heated about this I'm just coming from a genuine place, what appeal is there in Aira?
Also, as much as the Aira fans are talking about blaming Akira, I feel like there should absolutely be a focus on Hiiro right now considering that comment was... yknow said to him. I just think we should actually be talking about the Amagis considering that comment was intended to discuss the Amagis and their culture and the discrimination they go through.
i had someone ask me a similar question once but not in the context of all thats happening currently so you can read that here if youre inclined
buuuut what made me like aira so much in the first place was honestly that his concept as a character is really funny. i made a post a long while back that went into the funny meta jokes that you could make using aira as a character before i really knew much about enstars at all. having a character in your idol series that loves idols and canonically reads fanfic about them is just a funny concept in general. and as i continued to read more he continued to be funny and annoying and endearing (his little mini interaction with midori comes to mind immediately. there is something wrong with him)
also i tend to gravitate towards characters that give me like. little sibling energy. i love having a favorite little guy to dote on
but afterwards what really drew me to him was the main story!! thermometry specifically comes to mind (ouuugh,,,,). his feature scout stories are also great and so is feather touch! i wont like. go into detail really cause my blog is covered in me talking about aira already
his dynamic with hiiro is one of my favorites too, especially in mainstory. their dynamic isnt JUST aira says shitty things to hiiro and thats it. their relationship develops really far to the point where aira admits that he needs hiiro as much as hiiro needs him. they're young and inexperienced and kind of codependent as they're trying to keep themselves from going under in a sort of cutthroat industry. i think thats really neat. their relationship is really sweet to me and aira is a great tsundere type of character. he regularly is shown to actually like hiiro a lot as mean as he can be to him sometimes i.e. here. and you know the whole holding hands thing (which they also fucked up in the climax story but Whatever)
theres also this. which i think about regularly. the hiiai shipping fuel is vast
and additionally i think aira has some really great relationships with other characters too, alkaloid especially. feather touch develops his relationship with tatsumi a lot and its one of my favorite aira moments. i couldnt find my screenshots for this one but basically aira gives tatsumi his unlocked phone (something VERY important to aira since hes a little screenager) and it shows tatsumi just how much aira trusts him and he realizes how important aira is as a friend to him. being someone with a history like him aira's friendship is sort of new to him and it helps them both grow
he loves his friends so so much and he’s had a positive impact on all of alkaloid. he is its heart after all
but in any case i'm not going to like, defend myself for liking aira. i am aware that the shitty stuff has been there from the start but i've said something similar in the past that was like. aira isn't real and he cannot take accountability for what he says. he's a character written by real people who doesn't have any control over how he acts. so i guess that's why when i think the writers write something i dont think he would do or say in my own personal aira opinion i can sort of brush it off as just bad writing.
and not in the sense that i dont recognize that enstars sucks, because it does. enstars can be terribly racist sometimes and not just when concerning aira, and thats important to talk about (i.e. the orient cards, the king of thieves cards, etc). but at the end of the day the most important thing to recognize is the people and company behind the game as well as the real people who play the game and are affected by it. and not like, the specific characters in the game. cause they didn't actually do anything or feel anything you know
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I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.
The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.
Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.
In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.
And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.
I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.
But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.
His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.
It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.
I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)
It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.
And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".
He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.
So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.
He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.
I love him. I miss him already.
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So. Consider this.
We all know that Dream is pretty much touch-starved after sitting in a snow globe since 1916 and I'm definitely on board with this hc, but what if. What if he was touch-starved even earlier, by his own "making"? Like, what if his touch makes people sleepy if he doesn't try to reign it in? Like, you're holding his hand and your eyes are getting heavier and heavier, because he forgot he kind of does that?
Enter Hob Gadling.
Hob Gadling, who's a teacher and therefore he's swimming in tests and essays and other things because nobody in this damn country care about teachers being overworked and underpaid. But it's alright, he doesn't mind, he likes the responsibility and quiet pride that comes with teaching, with helping to shape young minds into something clever, something beautiful, something brilliant. And he really likes the kids he's teaching.
But he has so much paperwork and not enough hours in the day. So, Hob drinks way too much caffeinated beverages and pushes himself to make it done (he can't let his kids down, right?). He sips on a long cold earl grey and pushes himself past the point of tiredness and now, when he finally decided that some sleep might be good, he. can't. fucking. sleep. It doesn't seem like Dream being grumpy, it's his body that's suddenly not tired enough even if his mind is, and his thoughts can't stop racing, so he finds himself turning and turning and only getting more and more frustrated.
Dream finally notices. He enters the bedroom quietly, like a hundred other times and crawls into bed, because he's been tired too. And Hob's arms welcome him, like they always do, tenderly, with endless love. His body already relaxes, maybe from Dream's proximity or him not being as fully in control as he'd like to be. But Hob never cared about waves of drowsiness when they cuddled – there was nothing more pleasant than to take a nap in the arms of his lover.
Neither of them say anything, but when Dream lays a tender kiss on Hob's forehead, he knows, he'd meet him in The Dreaming soon.
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