#at first I thought it was damage to the lens itself which would not have been way worse

[neofelis----nebulosa]

When you suddenly realize your polarization filter for your camera lens is just straight up broken

[perverse-idyll]

Thanks for tagging me, @danpuff-ao3! <3 And it's so good to see you talking about your fics again. I love your thoughtfulness about your work and the whole writing process. (And I love your work itself, of course.)

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

This comes at an odd time for me because I feel very disconnected from my fic and deeply unimpressed by it. Every time I open the current chapter I'm working on, I think, "What an absolute slog." So maybe focusing on what I love (or remember loving) will rekindle the missing spark! Plus it's been umpteen weeks since I last posted here, and it would be good to show signs of life. (I'm not giving up on writing or my OTP. RL just kind of saps the will to live sometimes. Experience tells me this too shall pass.)

Tagging anyone who wishes to celebrate their faves because I'll be poking at this while at work, and it may take me hours*. *days, as it turns out.

I actually don't have that many fics, which is embarrassing, considering how long I've been in fandom. The same handful just keep cropping up. So I'm going to be really aggravating and mostly talk about WIPs:

The Afterlight - the Snape/Harry WIP I'm currently working/ intermittently fixated on. It's got a serial killer subplot that still hasn't kicked in after 52K words and a Denial of Feelings dysfunctional romance heavily influenced by the fact that both men died in canon and forever after have to live with that knowledge. (Here we have the author's perpetual Denial of (Snape-ish) Death on full display 😉). The fic features disillusioned!Harry, an offshoot of the angry!Harry who often turns up in my work, alongside a Snape whose feelings, whatever else they may be, are typically obsessive to the point of self-sacrifice. They fight a lot and fuck a lot and at one point Snape takes a curse for Harry. Hurt/comfort as courtship! Probably my schmaltziest ending ever, and quite likely a narrative mess, but it's got its hooks into me so I really want it to turn out halfway decent.

Year of the Thestral - the only non-WIP here, a Severus/Minerva fic I had on the back-burner for years and finally finished. It uses a dubcon relationship as a lens to examine the damage done to - and price exacted upon - all and sundry during Snape's year as headmaster. The conceit involves Minerva at the end of her life reminiscing to a biographer, finally facing the memories and meaning of Snape's actions, the layers of betrayal and inevitability of sacrifice, and the furious despair that lay behind Severus' treatment of her. It offers the possibility of forgiveness and even retrospective love, and is woven throughout with femslash feelings. For me, it's a meditation on the punishing aspects of Snape's agreement to play the monster, as well as a character study of McGonagall, undertaken as a tribute.

The Blood of Stars - possibly my favorite of my current WIPs, put on hiatus in 2014. It starts with Snape basically being kicked out of the afterlife by Dumbledore and Lily and discovering, as he searches Hogwarts' post-battle wreckage, that he can't speak to Harry. Literally, no words. Partly in retaliation, he commits an act of heartache and cruelty that affects Harry's marriage. But he also reappears at desperate moments in Harry's life to provide help. There's much to-do over an underground prison, a mutual fascination despite their problems communicating (although one might suggest that Snape's inability to tell Harry what he thinks actually improves the situation), two dramatic death scenes, and more afterlife shenanigans. It also has what may be my favorite ending for any fic I've written thus far, and I'm determined to finish it if only for those scenes alone. Oh, and it's my version of horribly romantic. Also, hubris: the entire middle section is written in first-person Harry POV, which I know will take out a chunk of my potential audience, but I wanted to try something I'd never done before. Anyway, it's next in line once I finish The Afterlight (yes, I know, how many years will that take? But hope springs eternal).

Impossible Without It - another Snarry WIP put on hiatus in 2014! Ah, I was so full of ideas then and struggling not to let the bastards get me down. Well, I haven't given up on this one, either. It's another angry!Harry fic (I do write optimistic!Harry, but really, none of my Harrys are well-adjusted). In fact, it's a memory-holed Harry who can't recall killing Voldemort and an amnesiac Snape who works in a Muggle gay bar. The story is told partly through their sexual addiction to each other, fueled by secrets and lies and out-of-control hunger, desire for vengeance and of course the question of what really happened the day Voldemort died and Harry lost that moment in time while Snape forgot crucial parts of who he is (like the fact he's a wizard). They don't treat each other well, but they become so bound up in their obsession they can't let go. Eventually Harry discovers a way to restore Snape's memories, and Snape makes him regret it. Believe it or not, this one has a happy ending! Well, depending on whether you think a rather fucked-up relationship can be described as 'happy.'

The Threefold Death, or: The Lost World (long version), Snarry, WIP. I was originally going to choose When the Rose & the Fire Are One, but I've singled it out often enough that at this point I'm not sure what's left to say. I had Threefold Death hidden in a collection for a while because I couldn't stand to look at it, but that didn't help so I've removed it from its cage. I'm still haunted by a lot of the scenes, and I love fooling around with fairy tale imagery. I also like playing with ambiguity: how much of Snape's love for Harry is his own and how much is the Forest using Snape to draw Harry into its clutches. Ditto Albus Severus, the third in their circle/cycle of debts and devotion, who can't stop setting off tragic consequences despite the best of intentions. (Well, maybe not the best.) The POV in this one starts with Harry and switches to Al, partly because I'm a sucker for outsider POV and partly because I want to examine Al as a mixture of Harry and Snape, neither as loving as his father nor as ruthless as his mentor and therefore the weakest link in this Game of Three. But it is ultimately his love for them both that closes the circle, and he's the one who ends up losing the most. (Sorry, Al! Even if it's partly your own fault.) And this is another ending with lines and images I'm rather proud of. Also a ton of bittersweetness. Ever since I hauled it out of storage, I've been having all sorts of daydreams about character moments, so this fic is definitely simmering again.

[rahleeyah]

Okay, maybe I am dumb or something but did Liv downplay her injury in the urgent care scene for the sake of Elliot's feelings? I'm asking because I saw a tweet that suggested that. Basically, once again a woman puts her feelings aside for the sake of a man's feelings according to this person.

I see it more as her being an empath and always feeling others pain more than others. Basically, El's pain is her pain.

I never would have thought of that, and considering the evidence of the scene itself I don't think that's what happened, but I do think that some people want to believe that Liv is a victim, particularly where Elliot is concerned, so badly that they will view of all her interactions thru that lens.

Liv's injury actually isn't that bad. Like when you hear someone got shot you think bullet thru flesh and tearing up their insides and damaging bones and ligaments and organs and while Liv was very much hurt, that is not what happened to her. The pellets weren't embedded that deep, she didn't need to be sedated for their removal, it was not surgery in the traditional sense. There likely will not be any permanent muscle damage; there will be no PT. she has to take it easy for two weeks while it heals. She's in some pain, but she has certainly had worse.

She doesn't downplay her feelings for the sake of Elliot's emotions; Elliot enters the room smiling and asks how she's feeling. He doesn't rush in all concerned in the midst of PTSD episode; he is smiling, and asking about her. And Liv never, ever, ever says to anyone that she's hurt. She simply won't do it. It's not about protecting Elliot; this is a function of who Liv is as a person and the theory that she does that in an attempt to put other people's feelings above her own ignores why that's a part of Liv's character. She doesn't do it bc she's so selfless; she does it bc she doesn't want to be seen as weak, bc she doesn't let people in, bc it's a habit. Her making the choice not to say "it stings like a son of a bitch" isn't her putting Elliot first; it's what she always does.

But she does tell him it hurts. In her own way, in that tough, cop-machismo way that is the only way she and the people like her will express pain and is a way that Elliot knows how to interpret, she tells him she's hurt, and asks for help, which he willingly offers. When she tells him she won't be sitting for a while he knows that means it hurts. He understands what she's saying. His emotions do not enter the conversation until they're standing, you can see her face change when she recognizes he's feeling big feelings. She didn't think he was before - you know, before, when she had an opportunity to say "it hurts" and chose not to - and it's only once they're standing that she asks what's wrong.

And it would take a particularly heartless, narcissistic person to look at their best friend, whose wife was blown up right in front of him, who has just had to deal with his best friend being shot right in front of him, and not ask if he's ok and not acknowledge his feelings. Is he not also allowed to feel things? Is only one of them allowed to need comfort at a time? Her ass stings but she feels emotionally steady; he is physically unhurt but has just experienced a significantly triggering emotional event. Do they not comfort each other in the ways they each need in that moment, him by physically supporting her and her by emotionally supporting him?

And it's worth noting, too, that Olivia herself draws the connection to Kathy out loud; Olivia acknowledges out loud that losing her would be akin to losing his wife, as @thisismehappy has pointed out. That's huge!!! That's Olivia recognizing how much he values her!!

Anyway. It's been said before. We are all watching different shows.

[writingworda]

I'm putting the same diagram here for quick and easy reference while I type this.

First things first, stories. Stories are the process by which an abstract is made, the abstracts matter, how an essence can actualize. Essentially, one of the prerequisites to exist is the ability to write a story.

The Primordials can't have a story of their own or else they will actualize, but without abstracts they will break. When a Primordial breaks it's like the equivalent to a black hole, essence, abstracts, and existences get sucked in to repair the damage. In the small time that hole is open, there's a tear into another dimension, which can of course cause dimensional distortions.

To keep it from breaking, Primordials need a constant influx of abstract matter, but it has to be in a way that keeps it from actualizing. So, the system landed on creating a way that distances the abstract from the Primordial via the essence but keeps the compatibility.

The way this is done is that broken essence is brought in from the Outer Planes through the Tentülln. The Last Sun gives the essence a beginning to its story, and the First Moon gives the essence an end to its story. The essence then enters the lens.

The lens is the entire space inside the Firmament. The essence flows to the singularity, the center of all things, and at the singularity it assimilates with a chaos based essence, normally being Pathos. The broken essence repairs itself with Pathos, giving it compatibility with the Primordial but retains the inability of complete synergy. By being repaired it also gains a tangible form, and the ability to enact the story it was assigned.

Then the essence, being repaired by an essence from the Primordial and being given a story, will set out to complete that story. It is sent outside of the lens, either on a path of regression or progression until it completes its story and reaches its end. Because the abstract would be forming from a mixture of essence, the essence must repeat its story to properly form the abstract. To do so the story will either regress, in which the essence goes through the same scenarios again, or progress, in which the scenarios either expand or change.

An essence will never be locked to just one or the other, however most only go down one path multiple times to complete the abstract. They cannot actively choose the path, the path is chosen based on the essence subconscious.

Once the abstract is completed, it is taken from the essence and fed to the Primordial. The essence itself is either cast back out into the Outer Planes or becomes a part of the waters of the firmament. Regardless of which, the form the essence took to enact the story is turned into a constellation, and it and its story are recorded on the Firmament.

So step by step, a broken essence from the outer planes enters the system through the Tentülln. After entering, the essence is assigned a beginning and end, given a story to complete. The broken essence heads into the lens and ends up at the singularity, where it assimilates with one of the Primordial's essence. This repairs the broken essence and gives it a form to enact the story in.

This essence is then sent back outside of the lens to complete its story's arc. After each arc the story will continue via either regression or progression, until the entire story meets its end and a full abstract is formed. The abstract is fed to the primordial, the essence is either discarded or assimilated, and the form and story are recorded on the Firmament in the form of a constellation.

Just for some more specificity, the Tentülln is a separation between the inner system and the Outer Planes. It is a natural occurring boarder and is thought to be made by the progenitor of the combination of time and space, that has since been lost.

The space between the Tentülln and Firmament is known as the scenarios, this is where all story arcs are completed. It is essentially the land of stories. Despite this being where the stories are enacted, all stories begin and end at the singularity.

There's technically more stuff to talk about, such as why Progression and Regression are angled the way they are, and what the Last Sun and First Moon are, but the former is kinda trivial and the latter I wanna keep a secret. So for the time being, that's the entirety of my world's metaphysical makeup and cosmology

[rai-zza921]

Breaking and botching the Brandon Teena Story: A Reflective Essay

BLOG #2

Hello, dear readers! My name is Ryza, and I am delighted to welcome you to this thought-provoking blog post titled “Breaking and Botching the Brandon Teena Story: A Reflective Essay.” As an eager writer and passionate advocate for social justice, I am thrilled to embark on this introspective journey with you. 

INTRODUCTION

Throughout history, some tales have had the ability to upend social norms and biases and jolt us to our very core. One such tale that has permanently etched itself into our collective psyche is Brandon Teena’s. Examining the challenges faced by transgender people, the shortcomings of our judicial system, and the complexities of identity have been sparked by Brandon’s life and untimely end. “How I Broke, and Botched, the Brandon Teena Story,” by Donna Minkowitz, is a riveting account of her experience reporting on Brandon Teena’s terrible life and death. Minkowitz investigates the complicated intersections of culture, gender, sex, and law in her introspective work, eventually acknowledging her own inadequacies and the potential harm caused by her initial narrative framing. This analytical article digs into the different topics raised by Minkowitz, evaluating the consequences of her actions and the lessons acquired from her moving story. 

CULTURE:

Culture has a significant impact on our views and biases. Minkowitz attributes her initial comprehension of Brandon Teena’s story to her own background and societal conditioning. She sought to write a fascinating story that would appeal with readers, but unwittingly allowed cultural conventions and stereotypes to poison her portrayal. This error exemplifies the tremendous impact that cultural preconceptions may have on storytelling, frequently perpetuating damaging myths and limiting our ability to comprehend the nuances of lived experiences. 

GENDER:

The investigation of gender identity is one of Minkowitz’s key subjects. Brandon Teena’s struggle with gender dysphoria and the following abuse he endured highlights the cultural barriers that transgender people frequently confront. Minkowitz first presented the story via a cisgender lens, emphasizing the narrative of a “lesbian on the run,” undermining the significance of Brandon’s self-discovery journey and the nuances of his transgender identity. Minkowitz squandered an important opportunity to challenge cultural conventions and prejudices by failing to properly acknowledge and appreciate his gender identity. 

SEX:

The narrative of Brandon Teena is intricately related to sexuality and sexual orientation. Minkowitz admits to her own uneasiness and misunderstanding of transgender people’s experiences, which results in an inaccurate portrayal of Brandon’s sexuality. She incorrectly depicted his connections with women as deceptive and manipulative, contributing to the damaging image of transgender people as deceptive or predatory. Minkowitz’s personal bias hampered her capacity to effectively comprehend and explain the intricacies of Brandon’s sexual orientation, ultimately contributing to his identity deception. 

LAW:

The involvement of the law in the Brandon Teena case exemplifies the structural failings that sustain violence against underprivileged populations. Minkowitz comments on her own ignorance of the legal difficulties of hate crimes and transgender prejudice. Minkowitz squandered an opportunity to bring light on the broader societal issues of systemic violence and prejudice against transgender people by ignoring the significance of the legal setting. This failure weakened the case for legal reform and prolonged the cycle of injustice. 

CONCLUSION

Donna Minkowitz’s reflective article serves as a reminder of the responsibility authors carry when recording marginalized people’s experiences. She investigates the problems in her first narrative framing of the Brandon Teena story through an examination of culture, gender, sex, and law. Minkowitz’s voyage of reflection serves as a cautionary tale, pushing writers to critically assess their biases, challenge cultural standards, and appreciate the complexities of life experiences. Minkowitz encourages us to approach storytelling with empathy, respect, and a commitment to elevating minority voices while avoiding damaging stereotypes and misrepresentations by learning from her mistakes.  

Furthermore, this article serves as a call to remember Brandon Teena and the numerous others whose lives have been impacted by similar difficulties. We can contribute to a more empathetic and nuanced understanding of transgender realities by analyzing earlier portrayals. Through empathy and open discourse, we can work to create a society that values variety, promotes inclusion, and upholds the dignity of all people. 

Thank you for joining me on this contemplative trip as we unravel the many layers of Brandon Teena’s tale. Let us challenge ourselves together to tackle biases, challenge preconceived assumptions, and cultivate a more sympathetic and just society. I am happy to share my thoughts with you, and I hope that this essay generates meaningful dialogues and promotes constructive change. 

(DISCLAIMER: The image above is not mine, credits to the owner)

[kozutenshi]

INK—KATSUKI BAKUGO

prompt: every lie you tell appears on your soulmate’s skin.

what: 1.6k of soulmate fluff in an established relationship.

warnings: none!

He didn't want to meet you.

He didn't want to see the other end of his ink, where the dark lines and curves of his lies find itself before it fades. He didn't want to meet someone who will actually accept him: his "greatness", temper, doubts, and all his flaws.

He didn't want to touch you, so he settled on doubting the concept of soulmates, ignoring the facts that surround him every single day. After all, contradicting what he was scared of is one of the things he had learned to do to cope with the sudden changes in his life.

Yet, he often found himself staring on his skin, waiting for your next lie. He found himself having the urge to know your voice even though he doubts he'll find it unattractive.

In short, he was hooked as expected.

So here he was, by the beach. The evening is near as the air further ruffled his hair, his outfit proving to be useful. The red maroon long-sleeved turtleneck he wore helped in regulating his temperature, even if the winter had little to no effect on him as he stood nervously numb. His dark baggy pants that are hiding a knife somewhere in its pockets contrasted how body hugging his top was. Sighing, his fingers reached for the silver chain necklace around his neck.

He wondered if he overdressed for the occasion.

The sunset was calming to see, the total opposite of his jumble of nerves, his red eyes glowing even if they were cast downwards. He could feel the exhaustion in his bones after going through back to back missions to free up his schedule. The mask and the glasses had tried to hide his identity but failed as people still swarmed around him when they saw his red eyes through the lightly tinted lens.

Not like he was complaining.

Free from the disguise, he stood in front of the bay his old friend had cleaned up for his training, waiting for your arrival.

"Katsuki!" The few people around close enough to hear you looked at him as you waved towards his direction. His hand found its way on his forehead, a tired look on his face as people started to swarm around him again. You acted quickly and grabbed his hand that had started sweating and bolted away, to the street where the two of you were supposed to go eat. Your hand felt warm in his as you dragged him away, laughing at the commotion.

With Bakugo, the press tracking his every move was not new, especially with him being an influencer, a hero at such a young age. You've come to terms with it after loving him for years, recalling the photos they had taken of the two of you on a date or a simple walk. Annoying, but, unexpectedly, tolerable.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Were you alone for a long time?" He was glad you didn't address the public's attention to him and settled on focusing your eyes on him. He didn't want to upset you but he knew you'd still see through it: first because the blank ink will always find its way on your skin every time he tells a lie, and second, because you know him that well after years of putting up with his nature.

"Yeah, but I didn't mind." The two of you had slowed down, your hand now out of his grasp as you tried to catch your breath. "The sunset was nice anyway."

In the span of five years since he met you, the two of you found yourselves in your own careers, often assigned to separate missions, far even, pursuing your own dreams. The two of you rarely met up now, and the only way to communicate was through calls and texts every night or at every free time you two share. And every time he sees you, the feeling always felt like the first time he sees you in the same high school you attended as him, watching his lies line up in your skin just to check if his eyes were betraying him or not.

"That's great. I was getting worried you'll leave me since you didn't even want to know me at first." He grumbled as you chuckled, lightly tapping his arm as a sign that you were just kidding.

"Well, you couldn't blame me. Soulmates sounded really dumb." The red of the lanterns blended with the hues of his eyes as he looked at your figure, excitedly pointing at every food stall. The month of February was coming to an end so the cold didn't affect him much anymore, but he found himself craving your warmth in many ways than one.

"Everything was dumb for you if it wasn't part of your goal," you jokingly retorted which he snorted at. He couldn't exactly deny that. "What are you spacing out for anyway? You looked, and still do by the way, like a lost Pomeranian." His face scrunched and was about to start yelling at you which you were prepared to laugh at when loud cheerful yells can be heard from the distance. He was clearly unfocused, but is unwilling to tell you about it. A small subtle blush crept up his face with the thought of finally being alone with you after so many months, which he then quickly hid behind the crepes you handed him.

The food park started getting busier, and you thought back to how silent and peaceful the beach was. The bench the two of you sat on proved to be not as secluded as the two of you thought, people looking sideways with giddy smiles and recognition.

"Do you want to go back to the beach?" He looked around subtly, noticing the growing crowd and nodded.

Hand in hand, the two of you walked in comfortable silence sipping on your drinks, only because both of you didn't want people to overhear you. The walk was peaceful, his warm hand anchoring you to safety. That even with the danger of the night, or the two of you probably making the headlines if people recognized you by tomorrow, you felt safe and surrounded only by his familiar caramel scent mixed with the distant salt of the beach. The lanterns slowly disappeared from your peripheral visions, going back to a normally lit street.

Loving Bakugo wasn't a small feat. You remember when the two of you shared the same lies, repeating it as if the two of you wanted to love each other that every lie would turn to a truth.

Maybe that was why the two of you had avoided looking on each other's skin for months, getting to know and bonding over nothing without the influence of the dark ink.

Maybe that was why the two of you refused to exchange i love you's later, opting to show each other's affection in other ways then seeing the remnants of the three words like a faded tattoo with a dejected look on both your faces.

This time, the evening has fallen over the beach, the dark veil of stars reflected over the waves instead of the pink and orange hues when he was waiting. The stars shone brightly, the moon unseen, blended into the night. He gazed at your figure as he wordlessly stopped, letting you walk in front of him, and gave into his urge, wrapping his arms around you from behind and burying himself in your scent, in your familiar warmth.

"I missed you."

You stood there in petrified silence before melting in his arms, understanding, contentment, love and warmth flooding your senses.

"I missed you too."

His eyes willed you to drown in his scarlet petals as the two of you wordlessly swayed to his rough hums, his rough tune blending with your own notes. Strangely, it was a pleasant melody; not the best, yet, the softness behind them seemed fitting for the night's ambience.

The stars gazed at the two of you as if you were the only people in the world, but he could care less about the stars.

You were the only light in his eyes.

He didn't want to meet you, to damage such a dream for him, but right now, he knew he didn't want to lose you, spilling pure moonlight instead of the night dark ink of both your lies.

citizens(taglist): @celestialarchiveshq @rendezvoi

footer: reblogs are appreciated!

[likearecordbb]

about your post on the recent discourse...

it's honestly so confusing to me because like,, you say that ppl pointing out how members of this fandom will make neil very stereotypically 'feminine' is reinforcing the idea of 'masculinity' as one thing and 'femininity' as another.... and i get that we should get rid of these labels. but at the same time... the content itself that ppl are criticising (the ones that 'feminize' neil) are already doing just that. that's why they're criticising it.

i can't point out how ppl are reinforcing the idea that a relationship should have a 'man' and a 'woman', without... saying that that's what they're doing. the writer themselves already sees relationships this way and 'masculinity' and 'femininity' as two different distinct things. that's exactly *why* they're writing neil this way while keeping andrew close to canon.

there's nothing wrong with neil being stereotypically 'feminine' of course. but to act like it's somehow misogynistic for me to go to these ppl and be like 'hey, u shouldn't view mlm relationships through the lens of a hetero one! it can be very harmful' is weird to me... *especially* considering these stereotypes that ppl are pushing onto neil come from misogyny themselves. (ppl making neil much much more emotional than he is in canon while keeping andrew very stoic)

idk, like... ur simultaneously saying that we shouldn't view relationships as needing a 'man' and a 'woman'... while defending people who are doing just that and creating content which reinforces just that.

it's one thing to say 'we shouldn't view masculinity and femininity as two distinct and different things!'/'we should get rid of these labels all together cause they're meaningless'... but if i look at the content that u make/consume and it's practically, if not entirely, all andreil conforming to heternormative stereotypes... then i can't help but feel like ur not as detached from the idea of 'masculinity' and 'femininity' as u would like to believe... i trust the ppl who say these ideas are meaningless while not changing the canon characters because they seem to be sticking to their words.

people will just say that they prefer writing andreil is this heternormative way... they'll just say it what they like or what they're most comfortable writing without ever questioning *why* they prefer it this way.

and if they're projecting.. well then, *why* this couple? why pick an mlm couple to project what is often the experience of a cis woman in a relationship? why pick this mlm couple when there are others that do fit the stereotypical heternormative dynamic? idk. like,, u can do this ofc, but ppl can also call u out on ur shit.

there's an undeniable reason that neil is exclusively the one that ppl pick to make more stereotypically 'feminine'. and there's a reason this type of content is also so popular. and it's certainly not wrong to point this out.

You know, I can see all of these points that you're making. For me, the overall issue of this is very complicated. I am also super uncomfortable with the imposition of heteronormative roles onto...well, onto any relationship, regardless of the identities of the people who constitute it. I was raised smack dab in the middle of the gay community by lesbian moms (together 38 years now, jfc, can you imagine??), so that "man/woman" thing was never something that I grew up internalizing or normalizing. I can recognize that this may give me a bit too much of a sense of objectivity.

However, I'm also like...I've been ruined by grad school. The "feminizing" word makes me really uncomfortable because it starts to stray for me into gender essentialism territory. It also seems to foundationally differentiate between "masculine" behaviors and "feminine" behaviors and I just really hate that? Lesbian moms, trans daughter, bi (and late-in-life trying to see where on the ace spectrum I might fall) self, I've just met so many people with so many expressions of gender and sexuality and I just... Idk, I automatically resist anything that feels like it's upholding "masculinity" and "femininity" as real (as in, not constructed) things. And then I also am like, well, I've known SO MANY gay men who behaved in the ways that the discourse constructs as "feminized" and then I start to feel like, what about these men? Are they less 'men' because of it? How would it feel for that man to read these things saying his identity expression was a problem or a bad stereotype? Do I read *Neil Josten* within that context... no, not really. I think Neil has a 'not enough emotional expression' problem way before he has a 'too much emotional expression' problem.

I'll say here what I often say to my students in complex discussions: I don't have answers. I don't think I'm right and anyone else is wrong. I just have complicated thoughts and feelings and concerns about some of the things that sometimes seem to be left uninterrogated.

So, I do 100% get the need to be vigilant about the imposition of a "man" (dominant, emotionally constipated, sexually driven, stoic) role and "woman" (emotional, needy, teary, dependent) role onto relationships with two (or more!) men or women. I would also argue that we need to get rid of that idea in hetero relationships, too, because it's super damaging. I just wish we could find a way to talk about that that didn't feel like it was accepting this idea of femininity as a given? And I definitely agree that it's problematic when the 'bottom' in a relationship is depicted as the one who's soft and silly and weepy. (Have you read TJ Klune's Tales from Verania series? A VERY fun world that does that not at all and it's great). I'm not saying these things are not worth confronting--I'm just really uncomfortable with the way the conversations are often framed around a concept of femininity/feminizing. It feels like shrapnel, I guess? Like, 'ugh stop feminizing Neil he's not weepy and uwu he's a badass' feels inherently to me like it's making femininity and badassery mutually exclusive? Maybe I'm just looking for a caveat or footnote in the argument that acknowledges that that is constructed *for women too*? And is a part of, like, a larger heteronormative patriarchal structure? And not something that we can just all obviously agree is the way the ladies (should?) behave?

One other question I've been dying to ask, though, is: where are these fics? I don't think I've ever read something where Neil is crying over Jack being mean to him or anything. Maybe if I start to see hints of that characterization, I just close the tab and never end up getting to the 'worst' of it?

Although, if what you said earlier about the "content that u make/consume and it's practically, if not entirely, all andreil conforming to heternormative stereotypes..." was referring to me, then... idk what to say to that. I don't think that's what I do. The heteronormative relationship that you're describing isn't one that I enjoy, desire for myself (or anyone else), or have any interest in reproducing.

Does this clarify what I'm trying to say? I guess it's a really long way of saying, in the old insufferable grad school tradition: well, first we have to define our terms. Because I'm not sure we're all coming up with the same thing when we use the word "feminizing" and that probably has a lot to do with why we keep having this exact same conversation over and over and over again.

If I missed any specific point you'd like to pick at in more detail, please let me know--my very sad platonic life partner (who had to put her beloved 15-year-old poodle to sleep yesterday) and her mom are waiting for me to drive them to the stores for a distraction, so I'm feeling a little time pressure.

[kazeofthemagun]

Anonymous asked the summoner:

😶 + What if the price for sealing Chaos is your life? Would you do it again or would you place the burden on White Cloud?

Uncomfortable questions

He regarded the traveler with a look that could only be described as chilling. A wordless moment of scrutiny, blue eyes attempting to unravel the person before him layer by layer. The extent of their knowledge, their reasoning, their gall.

To ask him directly of such things - that took guts. Almost made him want to take a moment to calmly verify their presence. Just in case he was mistaken and they would prove a coward under his blade. Most did.

Most of them.. these faceless mortals, these ghosts washed ashore. They were nothing but cowards and fools.

They knew nothing of the toll. How could they possibly have any idea of what it was like to seal that devil? The Wind glared silently, only half facing the being as a curtain of disheveled red obstructed his left eye. The right, free of the dark lens of his glasses, seemed to almost glow; Lupine-like, a mirror reflecting light.

What if the price was his life...? He knew better than to assume they meant a singular life. No, this was about his very existence. These questions always were.

His life.

...Could it ever be that simple? That easy? Would the beast finally slay one of its destined killers instead of playing its twisted games? Cut through the chord of an immortal's life instead of merely torturing them and stealing parts of their being?

He wondered, sometimes. He had seen first-hand the wound left within his other's soul. A wound that yet cracked and tore at a fleeting sanity, dimmed the moonlit ghost. What would happen, were it left to fester? Would it claim White Cloud's life? His own damage was grave. For twelve years he slept, only to waken with a shattered mind.

He had not yet collected its pieces. But it never killed him. No, no... that would be too easy. Far too easy.

Far too boring for that beast which feasted off sheer torment. And yet, what if? What if the moment came and he knew he would die. Forever. Just like he once fell into deep delirium and woke up knowing Chaos would invade Windaria. Destiny. What an insane concept; And yet, was it not their driving force? The prophecy that had hounded them since birth and would continue to do so until their quest's completion? What if one day, he could no longer simply be the wall his other needed? What then?

Would he dare allow that lamb to sacrifice itself instead?!

Kaze's prolonged silence was merely contemplation. A careful consideration of every word, creeping disdain bleeding onto his features with every passing second. No, not disdain. Disgust. The way his furrowed brows framed a chilling gaze only enhanced the image.

Hypotheticals could go to hell. He needed to live in the present. Live in reality.

He hated all those "would yous" with a burning passion.

And yet... the thought of letting White Cloud take on a seal yet again - it tightened his stomach into a knot. The mere thought was as nothing but the bitter-sour taste of bile.

"I would do what is required of me." The elder Unlimited growled, a light twitch of hidden lips. Stoic he may have been, but he was built from hatred. It was apparent in the way he spoke; Every word dripping with cold venom. How strange that he could talk so calmly and yet radiate more darkness that one ever could with open anger.

Something inside screamed at the thought. Something primal writhed. The calculating war machine drowned out its voice. White Cloud... could not survive alone. In the end, he would become that beast's prey and plaything for the rest of eternity. That's right. If he were to perish, Chaos would have no reason to try and kill his other. No - it would make damn sure death was the furthest thing the prince could hope for. What threat could a Sword be without the Gun to back it? What threat could either of them be alone?

Alone, they were nothing but dregs. So, yes... if his final death was truly certain...

"Whatever ensures our mission will continue... shall be done."

[ask-the-riders]

Demon species that exist in this multiverse's version of Hell

As I stated before, we might not get to see all of these types (we might get to meet a mime soon, but other than that, I'm not sure yet), but I figured this might be neat to share anyway :P

Glitch: The umbrella term which usually includes Pure Glitches, Lens Flares, and Clickbaits

Pure Glitch: Typically humanoid, but can come in any shape or size. Can be identified by the effect they have on technology, causing every device around them to glitch, freeze up, and/or short out. The hardest type to catch or document or catch on video. Can also unintentionally cause electrical fires. They crave violence and chaos, appearing to thrive off of it, and they almost always appear mentally unstable. A common, infamous trait is also their short temper, which seems to go hand in hand with their unpredictable mood swings

Lens Flare: Also typically humanoid, but like Pure Glitches, they can vary in appearance. Are also easy to identify by the effect they have on any and all nearby technology, although unlike Pure Glitches, they don’t cause devices to short out, and they don’t cause electrical fires. When a Lens Flare demon is present, a device’s audio quality drops and the colors on the screen appear to shift between different colors, most notably red, blue, pink, yellow, and green. They still have an underlying craving for violence and chaos, but they usually appear more collected and stoic. They also have short tempers and may lash out from time to time, but they’re somewhat easier to predict. Known to be manipulative and cunning, and will do just about anything to get what they want, regardless of the risk

Clickbait: Humanoid, but noticeably smaller; The shortest on record was only about 1’3, while the tallest was about 3’9. Their skin tones come in a variety of colors, although the most common ones are blue, green, and pink. They can only exist in the cyber world, infecting pop-up ads and clickbait on websites. When an ad or scam they’ve taken over has been clicked on and/or downloaded, they then travel into the device and make it their new host. Once they’ve taken control of their new host body, they prefer to stay as long as possible. If their host is damaged, they’re capable of repairing it, but they’ll die within minutes if they’re pulled out of it and into the physical world. They don’t crave violence as much as other types of demons, and instead, preoccupy themselves with simply trying to survive, due to being so weak. Their favorite kind of host bodies seem to be robots and animatronics. If a device is suspected to have a Clickbait demon living inside it, check the files for anything suspicious and then proceed to open up the device. If one is present, it’ll fall out once the device is opened. You may choose to move it to a new device if you wish to keep it around, but otherwise, leave them be. If provoked, they have the ability to pull someone into the cyber world with them (but only if the ad or scam they took over had been clicked on first)

Clown: Can appear humanoid or more like something from a horror movie, depending on how many lives they’ve taken and/or how many souls they’ve consumed. Some subtypes would include standard Circus/Carnival Clowns, Jesters, Mimes, and Harlequins. As children, they feed on only candy and sweets, and they crave sugar, but as they mature, they develop a taste for blood and human flesh, and it becomes their biggest source of nutrients. They appear unusually flexible, as if they have no bones, and their skin sometimes appears as though it’s made of plastic. They’re great at contorting themselves and doing anything based around gymnastics, acrobatics, and aerial arts. If their attire doesn’t give away their subtype, note their primary territory type, since Circus/Carnival Clowns prefer areas with tents and wagons and Mimes prefer alleyways and streets, while Jesters and Harlequins seem to gravitate more toward castles and historic locations. A common trait they share is giggling and laughing, even in completely inappropriate situations. Something to note: they are completely capable of detaching and reattaching their limbs, so it’s not uncommon to see them detaching their own heads to perform odd and potentially disturbing acts and stunts

Incubus/Succubus: Most often appears humanoid. They’re similar to a vampire, except they prefer to feed off of sexual energy. If no sexual energy is available or they cannot gain access to it, they will resort to feeding off of human blood. Their primary targets are sleeping humans, the gender of which depends (at least partially) on the gender of the demon itself. ‘Incubus/incubi’ refers to males, who prey on sleeping women, while ‘succubus/succubi’ refers to females who prey on sleeping men. Because of the changing times, however, Incubi and Succubi have become interchangeable terms, and individual demons may refer to themselves as whatever they prefer. While their targets are commonly of the opposite gender and they're typically represented as being almost always heterosexual, this is not always the case. In some scenarios, they've also been documented selecting targets and mates that are of the same gender as themselves

Vampire: Mostly humanoid, depending on their age and how much blood they’ve consumed over the years. They feed exclusively on blood, although some prefer the blood of animals over that of humans. Cannot go into direct sunlight, and doing so will result in being burnt

Mara: Also known as a “Nightmare demon”. Mostly humanoid, but typically lack any distinguishing features. Usually appear as nothing more than the completely black silhouette of a person, although some have been documented to have white or silver eyes, which lack a pupil or iris. It’s believed that many appear to be feminine, and either young women or old hags, but some do carry the preference of presenting themselves as being male or androgynous, as well. It is similar to Incubi/Succubi, but rather than feeding on sexual energy, it sits on the chest of a sleeping victim and brings nightmares. In some cases, they’re also known to suffocate their sleeping victim, as well as bring night terrors and sleep paralysis. After Pure Glitches, they’re the second hardest type of demon to catch on video or in photos, as their bodies tend to blend in with the surrounding shadows. They cannot exist in the light, and require some level of darkness to move about. Victims report feeling a heavy weight starting at their feet that very gradually spreads up their body and settles on their chest, before they became completely paralyzed. They retained the ability to see and hear, but along with their movement, they also lost the ability to speak, as well. They also report having vivid hallucinations and feeling a dark presence in the room with them

Imp: Can be humanoid, but like with other demon species, they can come in a variety of different shapes and sizes. They’re smaller than most demons, often ranging from 3’5 to 4’5, and they’re known for their short stature and red skin. Their eyes often appear yellow, and while males have angular horns that have black and white stripes around them, females have smaller horns that are mostly black with thin white stripes. They also have tails, the tips of which can either be shaped as an arrow or as a heart. They have a love for violence, and many base their careers on it. If their horns are curved and less angular, that would be the demon equivalent of balding

Inanimate: Almost always humanoid, but varies in appearance. They usually come in subtypes, such as mannequins, scarecrows, statues, dolls, animatronics, puppets, wax figures, dummies, etc. While they can move around normally in hell, they can only move if no one is looking, when they go to the human world. Like most demons, they enjoy scaring people, and they seem to prefer targeting anyone with automatonophobia (the fear of human-like figures)

Ink: Sometimes humanoid, sometimes not. They frequently resemble either a mostly humanoid figure or the upper half of a person (consisting of the head and neck, arms, chest, and upper half of the torso). They’re almost always entirely black and covered in sludge, and they lack any real distinguishing features, such as a face or clothing. It’s very rare to see any that appear in any other color or without the sludge. They’re supposedly made entirely of ink, hence their name. They’ve been seen coming out of ink puddles and “melting” back into them, and it’s thought that they use ink puddles to move from place to place. If one is strong enough, it may possess the ability to capture humans with its sludge, the substance becoming thicker and harder to pull oneself out of. If an Ink demon has built up enough strength and intelligence, they may even seek to convert humans into their personal servants. This could be achieved by first capturing and weakening a human, and then bleeding them out and replacing their blood with sludge. After the human completely heals and regains consciousness, they’re subjected to brainwashing and various forms of abuse, and this will continue until their spirit has been entirely broken and they’ve lost hope of escaping. Only once they lose hope and become entirely compliant, can the transformation into a servant be completed

Hellhound: There are two types that have been documented: Anthropomorphic and Feral. Anthropomorphic hellhounds typically have traits that are based off of canines (like dogs, wolves, coyotes, foxes, jackals, etc.) and walk upright on two legs like a human, while Feral hellhounds more closely resemble normal canines

Fallen Angels: Refers to angels who committed a crime and were cast down to hell from heaven. A prime example of this is Lucifer, who was once God’s favorite, and also known as the most beautiful angel in heaven 

Sinner: Refers to any demon who was once human. When one becomes a demon, they usually develop the traits of whatever ties in with their personality, the kind of life that they lived, or their cause of death. They start off humanoid, but their appearance changes over time, depending on the number of lives they’ve taken and the number of people/creatures they’ve consumed. It’s not uncommon for them to cannibalize other demons. In death, they may choose to keep their human name or go by something new. Sinner demons may become any of the previously listed types, excluding imps, hellhounds, incubi/succubi, and inanimates

Hellborn: Refers to any demon who was born in hell, such as imps, hellhounds, incubi/succubi, and inanimates. While Sinner demons may occasionally grow to resemble any of these types, there will always be a way to distinguish them and spot the fakes

Hellborn demons don’t always fall into one specific category or type, much like Sinner demons

Hybrid demon species do exist, but are not common and are typically outcasted from the rest of society. Usually, they like to stick to their own general races, such as any glitch variant pairing with another (‘glitch’ is more of an umbrella term that refers to Pure Glitches, Lens Flares, and Clickbaits) while any clown variants (meaning standard Circus/Carnival Clowns, Jesters, Mimes, and Harlequins) may pair off with another clown variant. The different races do sometimes reproduce and create offspring with humans, but the half human-half demon mixes are often outcasted, since most others feel like they don’t belong in hell, but they don’t belong in the human world, either

Harlequins and Incubi/Succubi are known to be more promiscuous in nature, so hybrids that are part clown or incubi/succubi are fairly common 

Devils and demons are extremely similar, though devils are almost always stronger, more violent, and more aggressive

It’s rare for demons to mate for life, but the bonded pairs that do usually end up moving out of the city. They relocate and choose to settle down somewhere away from most other demons, where they’re free to start a relatively peaceful life together

Because clown type demons are so similar, it’s common for two variants of one type to produce offspring that is another (ex: two standard Circus/Carnival Clowns may produce offspring that is a mime, or two Mimes may produce offspring that is a Jester)

If a Glitch variant reproduces with another Glitch variant, there’s a 50/50 chance that the offspring would be one type or the other (ex: a Pure Glitch and a Lens Flare may produce offspring that is either a Pure Glitch or a Lens Flare)

If two Sinner demons that don’t fall into any specific type produce offspring, the offspring would likely be another demon that shares their traits, similar to the outcomes whenever humans reproduce. The only thing to note would be that while Sinner demons aren’t native to hell, any children they have would technically be Hellborns

Hellhounds, Inks, and Imps are at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. Maras, Vampires, and Incubi/Succubi are only slightly above them. Fallen Angels and Devils are at the very top, with Glitches right beneath them. Beneath Glitches would be Clowns, and then beneath Clowns would be Inanimates

From the bottom of the societal ladder to the top, the order would be: Hellhounds, Inks, Imps, Incubi/Succubi, Vampires, Maras, Inanimates, Clowns, Glitches, Devils, and Fallen Angels

Hellborn demons will almost always be stronger than Sinner demons. Sinners do have the potential to become stronger though, if the right conditions are met 

There are other subspecies that exist as well, like Spiders, Moths, Cyclops, Snakes, Technology, Plants, etc.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

10. Shine

Joey gets annoyed with the Cameraman, who may or may not be trying to kill him and is ‘innocently’ insisting that his flash is messed up and he needs to do maintenance on himself. In the meantime, the animator is dealing with inconvenient shining lights. (Set in the AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the ungrateful bitch.)

Joey expected that the Cameraman would be a fussy and annoying toon to deal with since the day he popped out of the Ink Machine, but he was expecting a cinema snob who would heckle his animators and writers, he was expecting petty thefts and minor property damage caused by laser beams, he was even expecting the camera headed creature to use that mix of intelligence and bad luck of his to build some crazy machine that would blow up metaphorically in everybody’s faces.

He was NOT expecting the toon to be so quiet that people rarely noticed him if he wasn’t actively making his presence apparent. He was kinda expecting the people watching, the toon was a sentient camera after all, people watching is kinda their purpose in existence most of the time. But he didn’t expect the creature to have such a dark sense of humor or the morbid amount of knowledge of human anatomy that he did, and most importantly of all, the man did not expect the toon’s murder attempts.

*Click*

“AAAAACK!”

Joey screamed as a bright beam of shining light blinded him in what was supposed to be a dark room. His heart got stuck in his throat as he heard his cane clink and clatter down the staircase and he fumbled for the wall, cursing as he couldn’t find it. The animator even heard the former projectionist’s scolding as if the man was saying it to him directly;

“Yous really should get a railing or somethin’ for these damn stairs! Or at least fix ‘em up! I swear those things are gonna be the death of somebody…”

The animator found no wall, nor did he manage to will a railing into existence, but he sure did find the little twerp who almost killed him.

“CAMERAMAN!”

As he grabbed the head of the would-be assassin, the little toon played a horrifying, monstrous, and mechanical sounding shriek that would sound at home coming from the antagonist in a horror movie as he flailed and clawed the stairs for dear life, then the creature’s frantic voice came in through the speaker on his belt.

“WAIT! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! IT’S JUST THE FLASH, I SWEAR!”

Of course he was making excuses again, he always did that when he got caught. And he kept blaming his attempts on his ‘malfunctioning flash.’ as if Joey was some kind of idiot that would give the mechanical toon access to tools it could use to give himself something deadlier than a laser beam.

“Cameraman, I’ve told you enough times that while I want to be nice and fair, I can’t accept blatant assassination attempts.”

“But wouldn’t I try to push you or something while you were staggering?!”

The animator grabbed the small toon’s torso with his other hand, if the stairwell was well lit, the animator would see the camera’s lens semi-close in a way that made it look like an eye with a dilating pupil.

“Now don’t be like this, you know this hurts me as much as it hurts you…”

“JOEY! JOEY, DON’T YOU DARE DO THI-”

With a sharp tug on both the head and body, the Cameraman’s head popped off as easily as popping the lid off of a can of some delicious Briar label bacon soup™ Just the way the little devil likes it™️

The body fell to the floor as limp and lifeless as a doll, at first, Joey was worried that the Cameraman was right about making a mistake. But he let out a sigh of relief when he heard the shuffling of the headless body picking itself back up, which the camera ‘helpfully’ illuminated with its flash and didn’t give Joey a heart attack at all, no sir.

He then waved the still terrified looking camera in front of the body that was grasping at where his head used to be.

“You’ll get this back in the morning IF you behave for the rest of the night, do you understand?”

“..Y….$..”

The speaker on the body sheepishly crackled as he slumped in shame, or what Joey thought was shame at the moment while the camera itself was making a lot of frantic sounding clicking, whirring, and beeping noises.

Joey sighed and grabbed the headless toon’s hand.

“C’mon, now, let’s get you back to your room...”

The body nor the head did not answer as Joey led him back up the stairs in complete darkness, occasionally being illuminated by the shine of the Cameraman’s flash.

[antihero-writings]

Glints (Ao3 | FF.net)

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: The color silver shows up a lot during Oswald's life, namely in the form of sharp things. Only at the end does he understand the color's true nature.

Notes: This was written for @phmonth2021, Tragedy Trio Day 1 prompt: Silver. Sorry it's so late!!

If you liked this fic, please consider commenting!! You have no idea how much your comments mean to me. They make my entire week, and motivate me to keep writing stories like this!!

*

Silver glinted in the moonlight. Little Lacie smiled, mischief in every motion, and rushed at her brother.

Oswald nearly lost his balance dodging her jab, shutting his eyes and swiping feebly at air thereafter.

When he opened his eyes he saw she was standing there, raising an eyebrow as if to say Really? At least give me a good fight.

He righted himself, standing up straighter, holding out the sword to show he was ready, trying to actually feel ready…and ended up wincing and bracing himself as she rushed at him.

“Come, nii-sama.” She lowered her sword. “You have to at least try to fight back!”

“But…I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smacked him on the rear end with her sword, making him jump.

“You’re not gonna. And I know that’s not the real problem. Now really try this time. I’ll even let you take the first swing.”

He took so long to situate himself in the right position that she rolled her eyes. When he swung she smiled and parried his move.

He tried to think, and think fast. He went for her side, she parried that too.

“How did you get so good at this? I don’t recall Glen-sama teaching you.”

“That’s because I taught myself!”

When she made her own attack he shut his eyes and raised his sword, and was surprised to find it struck against hers.

He opened his eyes to find she was grinning at him.

“Practice,” she said like he’d answered his own question. “Just like you’re doing now. That’s how.”

The small victory, added to his sister’s encouragement, gave him newfound confidence.

After a series of attacks and parries, she put her leg behind his to trip him, taking his sword as he went down.

“That’s not fair!” He spluttered.

“Looks like you still have much to learn, nii-sama.” She smirked, crossing both swords. “But you’re getting better. Maybe Glen won’t totally crush you during your next lesson.”

******

As Oswald looked in the mirror, violet glinted in silver.

A new sort of darkness had overtaken his eyes.

Or maybe it was darkening at this moment.

Was it sorrow? Was it guilt? Or was it something more vicious than that?

He remembered. Silver was once such a beautiful color. Sword fights in the backyard at one in the morning when they were too little to hold the swords right. Treasure, teacups, music boxes, and clocks. The mirrors were merely there, never malicious with their words.

As he watched those chains pierce his sister and hang her suspended bloody in the air, and he spoke those cursed words, he thought that silver was a terribly ugly thing, holding reflections of even uglier.

In the days following, as he greeted the mirror in the mornings, he found it was no longer benign; its words were hissed, hurtful and malignant. His eyes looked like someone pulled the buttons off a stuffed animal’s face, revealing the holes and stitches behind them.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever see either the color silver, nor his own eyes, as something beautiful again.

******

Clanking, clashing, the glinting of sun off of silver.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Glen-sama!”

“And Jack!”

“Jack?”

“Jack Vessalius!”

“You know, that boy who’s always hanging around Glen-sama!”

“What are they doing?”

“They’re fighting!”

“Fighting?!” There was fear in the word.

“Not like that! It’s all in good fun!”

Jack jumped back sharply, sucking in his stomach, Glen’s blade narrowly missing.

Glen tried not to smirk, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, circling his friend like some animal intent on its next meal. He knew Jack didn’t stand a chance against him.

Jack curbed his any surprise with a smile, holding his sword up higher.

“If I didn’t know better I would have thought you were actually trying to kill me!”

Glen clicked his tongue as if to say Maybe you thought right.

When Glen came at him Jack blocked it just in time clanking dotting the air as swing after swing met each other in the air.

Glen’s next move nearly found its mark, but Jack ducked, rolling along the ground to avoid it. Before Jack could strike him in the back Glen’s sword met his once again.

Jack looked up at him, violet cast over his shoulder upon his friend like he was a small worthless thing.

Jack’s attempts to get back up found him kicked in the chest and relieved of his sword. Glen stepped on the blade for good measure, holding his own to Jack’s throat.

“I win again.”

******

The silver was drunk, drunk on red, seeing orange in dizzying displays. Orange and black, gold and red. Painted roses. Purity turned to dread.

Blood drained along his sword. The blood of innocents. Of women and children.

This was the name of mercy. This was the name of tragedy.

The green of Jack’s eyes stuck out like the only living plant in a greenhouse in which the rest of the foliage burned. He always thought those eyes held nothing but water, warped reflections, and masks.

As he held out his sword, he saw his own violet eyes too. He saw them in mirrors and each day, but this was perhaps the first in a long time darkness there didn’t convict him of wrongdoing, but rather assured him he was doing right thing.

That didn’t make it any easier.

This was the work of a madman, a monster, who needed to be stopped at all costs. The damage mitigated as much as he could at least.

But that madman was his best friend.

Once he saw silver as a beautiful thing, as it symbolized late nights laughing, and early mornings singing.

Then, years later he saw it as a repulsive thing, far too sharp, too ravenous, too permanent.

Now, he saw it as somewhere in between. Sometimes the only thing that can fight the dark is with a sharper darkness, one that has been forged in the light.

That didn’t make it beautiful, but it made it something more than ugly.

The silver in Jack’s hand carved across Gilbert’s back.

Sweet, little Gilbert, who only wanted to help. Sweet, little Gilbert who never did a thing wrong. Sweet, little Gilbert who Glen always thought Jack was fond of.

That silver was teeth and tongue, and maybe it wouldn’t kill him, but it was enough to show the truth behind his best friend’s eyes.

He learned that day that silver was neither evil nor good. Silver is merely a lens of men, showing the truth behind the eyes, the appearance, the intentions. Reflections sometimes speak louder, truer words than real images. And that means the color can be both beautiful and terrible, sometimes at the same time.

And on that day, it was both sheer horror and a sheer relief when silver severed him to pieces.

******

But death, for Glen Baskerville, did not mean the end of him. His soul merely traveled, lodged itself within the chest of a young boy unable to face his own eyes.

He knew what that was like.

So afraid of his own soul, was he, that he put a silver sheen between his eyes and the world, so he could never see the world as it was, nor could the world see him as he was. The color convicted him; though it obstructed the truth, it shouted that very truth at him every morning he put them on.

And that boy was right to not want to face the truth, for once he faced his own eyes, all he could see was the dark. Once the silver revealed the truth of the boy’s identity, he could do nothing do stop Oswald, nor could anyone else. Oswald would fix the past, without a Chain, or the Abyss’ will, no matter the cost or casualty.

All would be set right. All the tragedy would be circumvented. A new world would be erected, one which was saved from all this blood, and in which silver would be but a benign color.

So on a certain day, centuries later, a day on which memories walked and nightmares daydreamed, he raised his sword above his little sister’s head.

He had killed her once before. Worse than killed her. At least now she could return to the world anew. This wasn’t some sort of previously unknown and umentioned evil act. He was just doing what he already did, except moving the date earlier in time. Early enough to rewrite his past crimes. To spare the rest of them the pain of his mistakes.

But silver is a lens and judge of men. Once you face the color, it will always tell you your true intentions.

He hadn’t been able to catch her last words, all those centuries ago, and he couldn’t stand it.

“Forgive me, nii-sama.”

She had looked at him that day—today—like she suddenly understood it all, and he couldn’t stand it.

Had she known? Had she known that her existence would be the cause of all this tragedy? Was that why she felt the need for forgiveness? Or was it something more than that?

As he grew up, had she seen in her brother, the eyes of a man who once raised a sword over her head?

Or—smiling fool—did she see today, in the man who raised a sword over her head, the eyes of her brother?

God he missed that smile.

This was the moment. The moment he’d been waiting for, longing for, hunting down. The moment when he’d set the entire universe, right.

But…the new universe may be right, but it would be one in which Lacie never got to spend those early mornings—(or late nights, depending on your definition)—teaching her brother how to sword fight.

This Oswald would never eat with his sister, or play with her, or hold her close when one of them had a nightmare.

This Oswald would never get to see his sister grow up to be a beautiful, and half mad woman, who ran about the world, giving broken men reasons to live, when they got into arguments.

This Oswald would never see his sister smile again, nor hear his sister’s laugh again, nor her beautiful singing voice.

This Oswald would never capture her song in a music box so that he could let it out on the days he felt saddest.

Silver fell with the snow.

I still have much to learn, don’t I?

[theuncurrentdispatch]

"Do you like what you do, Lemony Snicket?": Ethics and Adulthood in All The Wrong Questions

This essay contains spoilers from All The Wrong Questions as well as Lemony Snicket’s real name, which I know isn’t really a secret. I think people who use his real name have no sense of wonder. But since AtWQ is Snicket’s memoir, I had no other way to differentiate the author’s intent from the protagonist’s.

All the Wrong Questions shares Parks and Recreation’s liberal values in an absurdist universe, believing the world’s incompetent masses constantly undercut their own best interests and that every responsible citizen must save the population from itself. Snicket espouses that “hungry people should be fed” and commandeers Hungry’s “private property” (3.150) to feed the penniless Bellerophon brothers. Educational institutions like the press and public library consistently help the Association of Associates and are targeted by adults wanting Stain’d-by-the-Sea to remain ignorant, including ostensible helpers like Theodora and the officers Mitchum. Daniel Handler sets education in opposition to authority, with City Hall held up by “two big, crumbling pillars” (2.91) representing the library and the police station that occupy separate halves of the building (“Literature and the law don’t always get along” [13SI.149]). Handler also challenges the authoritarianism of the school system, which values obedience and conformity over independent thought. The malignant Wade Academy keeps its student body ignorant and incapable, but even the town’s public school offers nothing to the Associates, none of whom are the worse for never attending. Trapped in the confines of Wade Academy, Snicket analogizes that “people cry at silence or at violence, at a graveyard or a schoolyard” (3.174), implying violence at a school is as inevitable as a graveyard’s silence. 

Instead, Handler celebrates self-sufficient activities that the father of Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes would refer to as “building character.” Like Watterson, Handler uses the guise of a child to push young readers toward activities like cooking, reading, and self-educating. Snicket constantly defines words and recommends other books (i.e. Charlotte’s Web, Wrinkle In Time, and of course, Wind in the Willows). A child’s lens also provides a safe distance to critique the hypocrisy of the adult world. Snicket describes children and adults “in entirely separate boats [that] only drift near each other when we [children] need a ride from someone” (1.114). Of course, Snicket himself gets his rides from the Bellerophon children, who are making up for their own parents’ absence. Handler’s protagonists are all kids who have vowed to atone for what “everyone’s parents did”-- that is, “nothing” (3.205)--  by feeding and transporting each other while attempting to inform and redeem their town. Symbolizing a new generation’s climate anxieties, Cleo Knight hopes to save Stain’d-by-the-Sea and her parents’ legacy by replacing octopus ink (a thin metaphor for fossil fuels and their environmental damage) with the ethically generated renewable resource of invisible ink. 

In Snicket’s world, children are victimized not only by the absence of adults, but by their presence. The only child in town with two physically and emotionally present parents is Stew Mitchum, who seems to be wicked not in spite of this but as a direct result. Stew watches his parents argue like a “shark [...] circles a tank while schoolchildren tap on the glass,” patiently awaiting the day he will “no longer be trapped [... but] will be in the open water, right where you’ll be swimming” (2.88). This is why Snicket chose to apprentice for the least capable chaperone, one whose first name is implied to be “Solitude” (4.289). The more absent the adult, the more autonomy provided the child. The wickedness of aging is most apparent in the town’s largest-looming threats, Hangfire and the Bombinating Beast. The Beast refrains from attacking Ellington and Snicket only because, as Hangfire’s daughter instinctively knows, “it’s not old enough” (3.221) to hurt people yet. Hangfire’s ability to “imitate the voice of anyone” speaks to a base childhood fear that adults are not who they say they are or “might not [even have] a real voice” (3.138) or identity anymore. Snicket, as a child character written by an adult, has a complex relationship with these villains and the dual apprehensions that “every adult [does] something terrible sooner or later [...] and every child [...] becomes an adult” (2.176). Snicket has “a box of matches in [his] pocket” but lies about it to Hangfire because he “[doesn’t] think adults should be encouraged to smoke” (3.27). Snicket literally carries the hidden potential to turn into a wicked fire-wielding adult like Hangfire, but is held back by a youthful idealism about resisting bad habits.

Nevertheless, Snicket ultimately turns to “a wild, lawless place” on a divisive “night [...] different from all other nights” (4.247). The titular question of Snicket’s final chronicle is itself a reference to the Jewish tradition of Ma Nishtana and is typically asked by the youngest member of a Seder so adults can “fulfill the [...] obligation to tell the story to one's children [and …] pique a child's curiosity,” just as Handler (who was raised Jewish) strives to pique curiosity in his young readers. Snicket saves Stain’d-by-the-Sea from Hangfire, but Hangfire posthumously claims Snicket’s integrity, having lured him out of a morally sound childhood. Snicket’s last words before walking away from his friends and colleagues are “I’m not old enough” (4.288), a callback to Ellington’s explanation for why the Beast didn’t attack them. Snicket’s claim is wrought with irony and denial, as he and the Beast had both just exhibited the “wild, lawless” nature of adulthood by killing Armstrong Feint. (You can read my dissection of the ending here.)

This is why Snicket reflects on Ellington as a “line [...] right down the middle of my life, separating the formal training of my childhood and the territory of the rest of my days” (4.161), a fact Handler had foreshadowed from her introduction. Snicket’s first impression of the femme fatale includes the distinctive line “green eyes she had” (1.131), a reference to Bernard Cornwell’s The Winter King when Arthur first sets eyes on the beautiful and dangerous Guinevere: “Green eyes, she had, with a kind of cruelty deep inside them. [...] If you can master me, that look seemed to say, then you can master whatever else this wicked world might bring” (Cornwell 183). Ellington and S. Theodora Markson are the town’s only other outsiders, which is why the two share “Solitude” as a musical motif and first name respectively. Snicket befriends several locals, but only Ellington can commiserate over something as specific and foreign as “blueberries picked in a field at the height of summer, miles and miles and miles from anywhere this train will go” (4.158). Snicket defends Ellington to the Associates because their xenophobic mistrust recalls his own cold reception in Stain’d-by-the-Sea, where locals like the officers Mitchum are only too eager to connect “the arrival of two strangers” and “the town experienc[ing] a crime” (1.90).

The critical difference that makes Snicket and Ellington opposite sides of the same lonely coin is Ellington’s resolve to put family before “anything and everything” (1.140) while Snicket feels obligated to help the town before his sister. Finally embracing Ellington’s code of “anything and everything” forces Snicket to relinquish the idealistic “training of his childhood,” including his promise to reunite Ellington with her father, and the ironic result is Armstrong Feint’s murder. Ellington’s wild, lawless philosophy effectively ends Snicket’s apprenticeship and childhood, bringing him to the literal “territory of the rest of his days,” the Clusterous Forest that swallows him up in the story’s final pages.

[merelliahallewell]

The Drust in the Night Fae Campaign (2)

This is the last of five posts that examine the Drust through the lens of what information is presented to us during the final bit of involvement the Drust have with the story. It will contain spoilers from the Drust to Ashes chapter of the Night Fae campaign.

Part 1 - The Drust Background

Part 2 - The Drust in BfA

Part 3 - The Drust in Ardenweald

Part 4 - The Drust in the Night Fae Campaign (1)

There is one small thing that I had missed in the last two parts: apparently you can save the Masked Fae from their enslavement, but only early on. There appears to be a process, as viewed in the first Drust portion of the campaign. The Drust keep them prisoner, and either convince them to don the masks or forcibly place them on. After that, there is mind enslavement, which seems to take some time to go through. There is a quest in Shimmerbough where you rip masks off of faeries and free them, so a mask being placed on you early in the process is not an immediate death sentence.

With that said, onto the campaign spoilers.

Story Rundown

This is the culmination of the Ardenweald campaign, and it feels very satisfying to finally be returning to the Drust again after meandering through night warrior stuff and loa. I don’t particularly like the inclusion of all these other stories into Ardenweald because I feel like they weaken the narrative even if they are vaguely tied to one aspect of the zone.

Today is the final assault against the Drust. As put by Lord Herne, “the Drust have inflicted enormous loss on this forest and its denizens.” We’ve seen time and time again how devastating they are to Ardenweald- they not only rip away friends and allies, but they enslave them and make use of them as armies. Most of the Drust forces seem to have been drawn from Ardenweald itself, and that loss is as great a tragedy as the anima drought.

It is Lord Herne that confirms the Maw of Thros in Darkreach is the gateway into Ardenweald. Gorak Zhar, their leader, appears to be performing some sort of ritual near the gateway as we press the attack. During this battle, Ingra Drif is slain- he was the Drust responsible for leading much of the effort to convert the Fae. Drif is described as a captain, which may confirm that the word “Ingra” is indeed a title that means something around that.

The magic of Thros acts as a protection for Zhar, with runed tree stumps empowering a barrier. Once the runes are destroyed, the barrier can be shattered. Also, apparently Kivarr knew Gorak Zhar at some point, which strengthens the idea I proposed in the last one where she knew Ulfar. If she knew him, then she would certainly know of his teacher.

As we arrive to confront Zhar, we find that she holds some wildseeds, and they are being drained of what looks to be Anima- directly into Thros! We put a stop to the foul sorcery, but it was nothing more than a trick. A new thing Drust magic can do is disguise living(?) beings as other ones, and Zhar used Ara’lon to stand in for herself.

As much of the Wild Hunt is at Darkreach, the Drust immediately take advantage of this fact and march on the Grove of Awakening and the Heart of the Forest. Apparently, they believe it will bring them victory somehow. All of Ardenweald is summoned to war in response, and the Winter Queen herself takes to the field.

They seem to have set up pretty well at the Grove of Awakening, taking control of several foci that are likely involved in the awakening of wild spirits before they are sent back to their worlds.

Each member of the Court of Night is sent to battle for control of these foci, while the Winter Queen engages in a sorcerous battle of her own, holding the line against any Drust forces that Zhar can summon to throw at her. We duel some named Drust, and then break down the wards once again protecting Gorak Zhar.

Then we kill her. She doesn’t even do that much damage. Ardenweald is saved, and presumably all the Drust are slain. The portal to Thros clozed when Not!GorakZhar was defeated and the Wildseeds were removed. Maybe they were holding it open? It’s unclear.

Also, can she come back because she wasn’t killed in Thros like Gorak Tul??

Motivations, Again

We get a bit of explanation of what the Drust want out of all this once again, this time from Gorak Zhar. However, it also doesn’t make sense entirely with the context of what we’ve seen previously.

Gorak Zhar boasts that she will claim the Winter Queen’s throne and crush the Heart of the Forest. They will claim every soul and grove.

This vaguely fits with their ambitions to “conquer all” and to “rule all realms.” Apparently they have some grand dreams of conquest but some very specific goals of conquering Ardenweald.

Trying to free themselves from the curse of Thros and take advantage of the rebirth, as mentioned before, doesn’t... really make a ton of sense when meshed with this. The rebirth mechanisms send beings back to their home planet, and the magic of Thros is the only reason they have been able to conquer this much to begin with- it is instrumental in every plan they have had. Also, I think the passage between Thros and Azeroth is still open, so they could have come through whenever they wanted.

Nothing makes sense but I am probably overanalyzing it.

Types

The neatest part of this quest was that we actually got some cool names of various Drust types and individuals as the Wild Hunt carved through them. I believe the more human-shaped Drust types (the ones the Masked Fae turn into) are called Reavers. The crawly aberrations that look as if they’re made only of muscles are either Creepers or Lurkers. The lady Drust are witches, Dread Evokers or Nightscreamers. The ones with Vrykul models are called “True Drust,” by the Night Fae but one of their unit types are Slayers. I poked around the game files and found that the Nightscreamers and vrykul-model Drust are called “Drustnative” in files, so presumably those are the ones that were native to Thros- or at least, the first ones who fled there.

Named Drust:

Gorak Tul Gorak Zhar Ingra Drif Ingra Maloch Ingra Saor Ingra Krazic Estrk Drina Kirgvald Lukir Gallak Haassert Skuld Vit Deathbinder Hroth Thulsketha the Binder The Hungering Ones (my personal favorite) Fulfir the Scarred Yulkatar the Cruel Dread Caller Skulfir Valfir the Unrelenting Soultwister Cero Faeflayer

A Final Note

The Drust may have been defeated, but as Lady Moonberry put it, they were just making the existing problems worse. War has ended in Ardenweald, but they will need to put down any remaining Drust forces who have been cut off from Thros now. The groves they conquered and desecrated will need to be reclaimed at some point, and they are assuredly cursed by Thros’ touch. And the Gorm and Spriggan are still causing problems.

Also, it’s very interesting that the Drust sought to destroy the Heart of the Forest. Y’know, the main thing that’s imprisoning the Jailer. That’s some cool food for thought. I wonder if there is a connection there. I wonder if we’ll go raid Thros. Please let us raid Thros.

[elareine]

ahhhhh!! you doing prompts!! happy easter by the way!~ can it be a rooftop dating? when they both were young? uwu❤

Hey lovely, I assume you mean JayDick, right? This is my first Catlad story. I made them a bit closer in age for this - maybe three years difference. Sorry it too so long! 

I.

“Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Richard?” Alfred puts down his newspaper to glance at the child. He is admittedly far too young for such a title, but Alfred enjoys the way it makes him giggle, so it sticks.

“Can I ask you something?”

The butler’s curiosity grows. It’s not like Dick to check in twice before posing a question. “Of course.”

“If you would want to have a picnic on a rooftop at night, what would you bring?”

For a moment, Alfred is at a loss. It’s a most unusual feeling for him. Then he remembers: Bruce mentioned that Miss Kyle has taken in a ward, as well. The world rights itself. “Is this, perhaps, a meal you are looking to share?”

Dick blushes, but nods.

“In that case, I believe that some of those cookies you so enjoy would do the trick.”

Dick’s eyes light up. “You would show me how to make them?”  

“You wish to make them yourself?” Alfred raises a brow.

“Of course! I want him to like me, and my mother always said that love—” Dick clamps his mouth shut, but Alfred has heard enough.

This deserves genuine consideration. It’s a recipe that has been passed on in the Pennyworth family for generations. Alfred does not relinquish it easily.

Then again, who else is he going to teach it to but to this boy who has brought light back into the manor?

Alfred pushes his chair back and gets up. “Then we should begin now, Master Richard. They need some time to cool down.”

Dick beams. “Awesome!”

The kitchen will look a disaster after this, Alfred just knows. Hopefully, it will be worth it.

II.

Tim Drake is Robin, and he has no idea what he’s doing. It’s okay, though. Batman (Batman) is training him. Alfred is supportive, and Dick is the best. He’s everything Tim ever wanted in a brother, and it takes Tim a few months to see beyond that.

There’s grief in the lines of Dick’s face, the silences between him and Bruce, the way he avoids some patrol routes. Tim can’t fix that, he knows. But—he has to try to make it better, right? That’s what family does?

So he marches up to Dick one day and blurts out, “I have something for you,” before he can change his mind.

Dick smiles. “Yeah?”

“Here.” Tim pulled out the simple black folder from behind his back and opened it for Dick, showing him the single photograph. Then he holds his breath—surely Dick will ask where he got that. He must be angry at this invasion of their privacy.

But Dick just reaches out with trembling fingers, touching the photograph as if it’s something infinitely precious. “This is…”

Tim shot the picture when he’d finally managed to get his hands on some real good long-lens equipment. It shows two boys in their late teens on a rooftop. There’s a plate of cookies between them, and they’re passing a thermos bottle back and forth.  

Tim has other pictures—of them cuddling, Robin in Catlad’s lap, Catlad in Robin’s, them chasing each other through the air… but this is his favorite because they’re not wearing masks, and they’re laughing. He’s never seen two people look so clearly in love without touching.

The picture was taken ten months ago. Robin had already left Gotham to become Blüdhaven’s Nightwing at that point. Batman was going off the rails, just a bit, and Catlad… he was investigating something away from his mom, something that led him to an empty warehouse and a clown.

It must’ve been one of the last times they saw each other, Tim realizes. Maybe the last time.

Dick doesn’t say anything more, not out loud. He takes the folder, holds it close as if Tim’s given him a treasure, and his watery smile says it all.  

III.

The red helmet still feels a bit weird.

Jason doesn’t regret taking his new alias. It distances him a bit from his former family, which wasn’t his intention, but it feels good to take a name that was associated with his killer and turn into something criminals fear. Besides, Selina made sure his outfit is still appropriately tight under the leather jacket.  

The helmet is kind of a necessary addition beyond the play on his name, though. His senses… well, they haven’t been the same since a maniac took a pipe to his head. Also, Jason would really like to mitigate further brain damage, thank you.

All of which is a lot of words to explain why it takes him a full thirty seconds to the plate of cookies in front of the rooftop entrance to his apartment.

Jason doesn’t need to check them for poison. He knows who made them. “Hi, Nightwing.”

There’s a soft laugh, and Dick hops down from the ledge to stand next to him. His movements are so graceful, it makes something in Jason want to scream. “Hi, Jason.”

His first name. He hasn’t heard that in a while. Not since he and Batman got into a rather violent argument over how to deal with Jason’s killer. “What do you want?”

“I thought—” Dick looks uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “I thought we could have a picnic.”

Jason sighs. His movements are heavy, obvious as he opens the door, takes a step inside. He doesn’t need to look at Dick to know that his posture is deflating, that Jason has once again managed to dim that brilliant smile.

It’s kind of worth it, though, for the gobsmacked expression on Dick’s face when Jason steps back outside sans helmet and with a thermo in his hand.

Jason doesn’t kid himself. He’s a long way away from the small, lively boy that first caught Dick’s interest. There’s not much left of himself; certainly not enough for Dick to love. He wasn’t able to say ‘no’ the first time Robin skipped up to him with cookies and a smile, though, and he’s not ready to deny him now.

“Let’s have a picnic, then,” he says quietly.

Dick’s smile is brilliant enough to light this goddamn city by itself. That alone, he thinks, makes it worth it.

[faelapis]

Help, 2 of my best friends think Spinel going with the Diamonds at the end throws away her character arc because she goes from her toxic dependant relationship with Pink to the Diamond's codependant adoration. They know that the show is likely to go into their dinamic in season 6, but they don't care since they think the movie should stand on it's own. I think their relationship will give them all a chance to grow, but I can't help seeing their point.

so… here’s the thing. i think the movie intentionally leaves room for feeling like spinel and the diamonds rushed into things because they’re both quite early in their growing process, but i would hesitate to call it toxic codependence (it’s more of an intentionally flawed starting point), or in any way a break from their character growth or the film’s themes as a standalone piece. i’d like to point out three things:

point one: most familial relationships start out on the basis of knowing someone else related to the person. like. your grandparents wouldn’t take an interest in getting to know you if you weren’t their child’s child. that’s just how it works. 

and this is kind of similar - if “daughter-coded” is a thing, then pink diamond is that in relation to the other diamonds. and the diamonds have always loved gemkind *in relation to their diamond* - like, in a “we take care of our people because they’re Ours” kind of way. all gems are made by the diamonds, and if that’s the case, then the ‘daughter diamond’s’ gems may be perceived as a kind of grandchild or psuedochild it’s important to preserve and protect. 

so that’s a very benign, “we’re gonna take care of what our child made” read on it. which is pretty hard to say is inherently abusive or codependent, i think.

point two: the movie’s point is not to entirely undo spinel’s and the diamond’s issues. so to read it as a failed attempt to do so is, i think, incorrect. 

by contrast, the movie really stresses how you SHOULDN’T think there’s an endpoint to your growth. you have to keep trying to become better. you may have to keep struggling your entire life. that is very much compatible with the characters still being somewhat flawed by the end of it. it reinforces the movie’s message, rather than working against it. it’s thematically consistent.

if the movie has a thesis statement, it’s this: “there’s no such thing as happily ever after. i’ll always have more work to do”.

this is reinforced by the finale song in a number of more subtle ways: 

“happily ever after, there we were - and here we are” implies we are now somewhere else. “i’ll be ready every day, for as long as (…) i’m in the future with my friends - that’s why happily ever after never ends” carries that through. here, instead of meaning “complacent happiness without growth”, steven transforms the “happily ever after” concept into his own, more accurate version. the meaning he gives it is “i’ll keep growing with my friends by my side, and i’ll be ready to change & work on myself for the rest of my life”.

this is also reinforced by spinel herself. she admits that friendship isn’t going to be easy for her. she has to work on herself. that’s a blatant reminder to the audience that she’s ready to keep growing instead of becoming complacent - and it’s a reminder placed right before the diamonds arrive. that’s not subtle. 

so the intent here isn’t to give spinel a perfectly happy ending - it’s sweet, but its primary purpose is acknowledging the possibility of healing by giving her a new beginning. a chance to have a relationship with people she hasn’t hurt. “i’ve already messed things up with you”. this was the same thing blocking steven & the diamonds’ relationship. they’d already hurt him. so he was uncomfortable spending all his time with them. 

“you guys have really gotten better at showing affection” has two meanings. 

1. i’m proud of your progress.

2. there was a time you guys were awful at this. towards me. i remember that.

and one does not erase the other. steven is genuinely happy for the diamonds! he’s not about to downplay their growth or abandon their cooperative partnership - but he’s not gonna let them smother him either. he wants his own life.

point three: the diamonds and spinel have genuinely grown.

no, not in the way where they are no longer flawed. that would be weird. the diamonds still primarily relate to others through a “diamond’s creation” lens, even if they are making the effort to see those creations as equal. 

spinel, on her side, is not too trusting as much as she’s still trying to find a puzzle piece to fit a void inside of her. but that’s kinda normal, at this point in her development. everyone needs reasons to keep going in life when everything falls apart, and those reasons need not be perfectly fulfilling - they just have to be enough for the person in question (for now). 

so okay, how have they grown?

spinel is growing past her toxicity. her issue was not so much codependence as it was an inability to handle rejection and abandonment. those things are connected, sure, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with latching onto someone. even someone you have a familial connection with. the problem is when that becomes so all-consuming - as it did with pink, albeit understandably - that one lashes out in its absence. 

and the first step towards dealing with that is acknowledging one’s flawed behavior. which spinel does, finally, when she realizes she can’t hurt steven anymore and trying isn’t making her happy. she understands that she’s being ridiculous, toxic, and the antithesis to a good friend.

also, spinel accepted that she’s not entitled to anyone’s friendship. heck, she thought she may be alone for a while, and still thinks that working on herself is a prerequisite for keeping friends. that cannot be undone by finding someone else willing to give friendship a try. this, along with the understanding of “no happily ever afters”, shows that she is self-aware and won’t let herself get complacent in this new relationship. she’s gonna keep trying every day, just like steven.

so in summary, for spinel - she’s unlearning her toxic behavior patterns, trying to undo her damage, self-aware about her flaws, and wants to start over with new friendships. none of which is undone by the diamonds.

as for how the diamonds have grown - firstly, in actually listening to people. 

communication on equal grounds is the first step towards better relationships. this is perhaps obvious, but their flaw was never exactly codependence, either. it was a power imbalance where they ignored, tormented and condescended their “daughter” into running away. steven has helped them realize how they were wrong to do so, how their perfectionism didn’t justify what they did to pink. or to anyone else. or to themselves. 

so now, they’ve come face-to-face with their self-justification and found it invalid. they have to start over from there. they have no excuse not to listen to people anymore, and are still figuring out how to do right by others.

this is something they’re actively trying to correct - firstly, with steven, who they Very Much listen to. to the point of putting him on a pedestal. this is perhaps an overcorrection, along the lines of how rebecca sugar described peridot’s turn as, at least at her “new recruit” stage, overzealousness towards a form of caring that had never been on her radar before. 

this, of course, steven partially rejects (albeit gently) and tries to distance himself from. it’s not untrue that they’re not entirely over pink, either. for him, that’s still a sore point. but they are trying to grow & listen to others, however slowly.

like spinel, they understand they have flaws. they are earnestly trying to correct them. what both sides “need” is a chance to put these lessons into practice, forming new relationships instead of insisting on clinging to someone you’ve hurt (like they both tried with steven). 

now, they will attempt with each other. perhaps successfully, perhaps not, but nevertheless, it’s a chance to grow together, with a newfound understanding of how they, themselves, can screw it up. that, in  itself, is a good thing.

it’s a flawed starting point, because the characters themselves are supposed to still be flawed, yes. but to say that this undoes their growth, i think, is quite… heartless. like. they don’t need to be alone and in pain until they’re Perfectly Emotionally Mature, and only Then do they get to have relationships again. that’s not how people heal. they should be allowed to try, fail, explore, try again. that’s certainly in line with the movie’s core message.

[gofancyninjaworld]

2020 in One-Punch Man. Part 1: Manga

How shall I describe this succinctly?

It's like ONE and Murata looked around them, saw a raging pandemic, massive disruption to all walks of life, uncertainty of when, if, or how it might affect them, took a massive drag of their cigarettes and said: “Fuck being conservative.  Let's go wild. Fuck making our current arc a webcomic retread with fancier fights.  Let's introduce more lore, let's have more characters interact in ways one would never have imagined, let's have characters do things that hadn't previously been thought of and make this really exciting.“

If you were holding onto the webcomic as your guide to what next, 2020 was not a good year for you. 

723 pages in 24 updates (including revisions) changed the status quo ante in deliciously unanticipated ways!

Where we left off in 2019, we were following the webcomic pretty faithfully, with most manga-original elements being removed at a fast clip.  Phoenixman was dead, the mercenaries had died a brutal death, the ninjas had been resurrected but had run off buck naked, Orochi was dead, G5 was very much destroyed, Drive Knight had appeared but had obligingly limped off, taking Nyan with him.  The S-Class heroes were in trouble with the cadre exactly as expected and Saitama had met up with Flashy Flash.  Tatsumaki had finally found Psykos. Yup, no real changes here.

2020, HAHA! 

Awaken!

Throwing manga-specific elements away? As if!   They took the great opportunity that preparing chapters for publication to critically review and revise the story so as to first, make it move at a faster pace and second, to be enriched.   It’s meant that chapters for volume 22, 23, and 24 (to come) have been redrawn to accommodate the changes and we got the benefit of many of them between April and August of this year.

We started with Phoenixman’s fight with Child Emperor.  It started innocuously enough with Phoenixman resurrecting, but then we got a much more interesting chunk of knowledge -- the existence of a metaphysical world modelled on one’s on psyche where the assault on Child Emperor’s sense of self took a much more existential nature. 

From a purely physical battle (and some nifty cool info about the Subterraneans) to an otherworldy battle happening in parallel with the physical battle:

It ended up a very interesting examination of Child Emperor’s character and his relationships with other heroes, as well as telling us something else freaky about Saitama’s ability to be anywhere he damn well wants to be.

Ah, and Phoenixman lives. Albeit as a little chick (for now).  He’ll probably be back, but not just yet.

The mercenaries were next.  They didn’t die.  Not because Amai Mask had a change of heart, but because Iaian listened to the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach and turned his team mates around to intervene just in time. 

As you’d expect, trying to guide the mercenaries back to the safety of the surface has been an incredibly challenging ordeal for the disciples. It’s revealed much more about the way the disciples trust each other and lean on one another, and yet, when there was no option to do so, Iaian stepped up wonderfully to fight to save the mercenaries.

We’ve also learned something interesting about why mercenaries exist at all in a world supposedly at peace.  I look forward to seeing where this plot might go next.

Elsewhere,  we got to learn a little less about Puri Puri’s dancing and swimming lessons, but we got some really awesome nods to the mythical in Bakuma (the baku is a long-nosed creature formed out of all the bits left over after creation that eats dreams) and Electric Catfish Man’s sudden sense of doom is both reference to the way catfish are supposed to detect earthquakes and just damn cool. 

A monsterised exploitative business man taking the form of a demonic dream-eating monster that consumes weaker monsters so as to exploit their abilities is so appropriate on many levels (and unreasonably hot!).

Yes, Waganma does make it to the surface, along with Saitama and Child Emperor.  Saitama gets chased away by a Sekingar outraged that there’s a clueless hero just wandering aimlessly around.  Child Emperor goes back underground and I loved to death Waganma being pierced with remorse as he realises that the hero is going to go risk his life anyway.   He’s spoiled, but his keeping quiet came from a place of being a scared human being desperate to be saved  (a surprising number of fans did not like that -- they preferred to think of him as a psychopathic monster incapable of remorse).

Orochi still has a date with a gloved fist, but he’s getting to live a little longer than he did before.

Overall the story is tighter and there’s a lot more interest as well as future plot hooks than there were.  I’m interested in seeing how it gets tied up in the next volume sometime in 2021.

Reddit did not take it well.  Summary of discourse:

sorry not sorry, I lost patience around the 500th whiny post

Advance!

What about the new chapters we got?  Also here, ho ho ho, that status quo has gotten a good kicking!

Orochi came back.  Not the most surprising surprise in the world, given how carelessly Saitama punched him. Also not surprising that he came back stronger; Phoenixman had wonderfully demonstrated that monsters can bounce back from near-death situations much stronger.  But his form... such a disgusting, slimy, ever-shifting mass of tentacles and dragons, consuming all in its way led to the third craziest development: his fusion with Psykos to launch a new monster.

I’ll spare you the disgusting intermediate stages but the end result has been the birth of Psykos-Orochi and with that, what had been a total sweep for Tatsumaki turned into a much more dangerous enterprise where every mistake of hers got punished brutally.

Why is that only number three?  Because Tatsumaki raised up the entire base to try to encompass the whole monster (and it turns out that she was thinking far too small -- the monster had actually eaten large sections of City Z) and Psykos-Orochi uses the space to launch a beam so powerful that it literally cuts off part of the Earth itself.  It was a real I see it, but I don’t believe it moment.

if you didn’t spend a few seconds just staring in disbelief, you’re not paying attention. OMG.  Boy is the Earth in trouble.

Why is that only the second craziest thing?  Because of why this fusion monster was able to do as it did. ‘God’ doesn’t just go round looking like a semi-tangible being giving random homeless men magic powers.  Yup, the Earth really in in trouble if some supernatural being is smushing monsters together to make a stronger one and then granting it extra powers.   Just like that, the struggle has turned cosmic.

Tatsumaki trying to figure out how to fight back and save City Z from being swept away by a tsunami, save the heroes, and save the planet from further damage by the beams all at the same time was one of the most spectacular fights to date. 

As I said earlier, this monster has presented Tatsumaki with a real fight where the slightest mistake on her part leads to severe punishment.  She wound up in trouble when she underestimated how extensive the monster actually was and let up on twisting it too early, only to have it come right back and skewer her hands. 

Thankfully, Genos came in and saved her from that pinch, then held the monster at bay long enough for Tatsumaki to finish saving the strike team so she could give the monster her undivided attention.

Which is a very tame way of saying that that was an incredible development in capability.   That some of the fandom had trouble accepting (they suck). Watching their protests has been an exercise in special pleading.  They have no trouble understanding how Murata uses scale...until it came to accepting the size of the explosion resulting from Genos smacking away Psyko-Orochi’s execution beam then it had to be a fisheye lens (visibly incorrect, but who’s talking facts here?).   Have had no trouble understanding how Murata portrays escalation... until it came to accepting that Genos is strong then no, somehow the monster had to be weaker.   Have had no trouble with the freeze frame language that Murata uses to portray things happening at great speed... until it came to accepting that Genos could move really, really fast.   For some people, the new is only welcome when it confirms and validates preconceptions.  Anyway, that’s my rant done!

the most unlikely of partnerships and they’re still going despite having taken a hell of a battering since this scene

Guess who’s back?

We’ve also been seeing more heroes come back to the fray.  The emergence of the Tower of Doom acted as a clarion call to every hero around and able to move.  Metal Bat sneaked out of hospital to come running back.  Tank Top Master hitched a ride with Mumen Rider to go to City Z.  He intended to stick around and save people, but seeing how much wider scale the fight was,  he literally threw himself into battle. 

Drive Knight decided he literally had to have a piece of the action,  took up a ton of power from the nearest substation and came flying in to intercept a desperately escaping Psyko-Jet... ah, I didn’t say?  Yes, the monster turned into a machine to run away once hard-pressed.

And we finally got to see what Blast actually looks like, courtesy of a flashback of Amai Mask’s.   He definitely looks the part of a caped superhero and it’s little wonder he’s stuck in the imaginations of so many.   But now I’m even more interested in seeing what his deal is and what is he’s like now

The one thing we know for sure will be happening is that Garou will not be denied his destiny.   He’s coming.  But what else is happening?  Ah, that’s all in the air.

Bring on 2021!