#but i am also TERRIFIED to write about such a sensitive subject

[partrin]

oh no, another writing idea: i've read so many fics about rin and haru in australia, rin and haru in japan (for obvious reasons), rin and haru in america, and other non-asian countries, but i've never read a fic about them being based in a southeast asian country (but to be fair, i've obviously not read all the fics there are available under their tag so i wouldn't know for sure).

today, i was thinking about the local sports scene—primarily football (as in soccer), because 1. when i think of sports, my favourite one is football. i enjoy football, used to even play it regularly, but i mainly watch the english premier league, and on occasion the la liga, and 2. i was wondering, "why is albirex niigata, an originally japanese team, playing in the singapore (where i'm from) premier league?"

so i found out that albirex niigata singapore fc is the satellite team for the original albirex niigata of japan, and even so, the team is made up of all (but one) japanese players.

and then i thought:

what if, in some alternate universe, rin is a football player on albirex niigata singapore fc, a player on loan, and haru is an exchange student studying in a local arts academy (idk, either the NAFA/nanyang academy of fine arts or la salle college of the arts or SOTA/school of the arts)?

and what if, one day, haru is dragged to a football match by his classmates who thought it would be a splended idea since it's the premier league finals and albirex niigata, a club that has been dominating the table, is playing, and haru, you're literally japanese—you should support your fellow countrymen even if you're in singapore right now? and haru (begrudgingly) relents, so here he is, in a stadium full of people, munching on shrimp chips and witnessing a sport he has little care for.

rin is a bench warmer. and after the finals are over, haru bumps into him in the washroom. he recognises him from the match because of his vibrant, carmine hair, even though rin's barely had any play time, and he feels obligated to congratulate him if only for the fact that he wants rin to know that he, too, is a japanese man in a foreign country. he wants to connect, desperately, to some who reminds him of home. but there's only one problem:

haru is mute.

so he resorts to fishing out a notepad he always carries along with him in case of occurrences such as these (because he can't assume that he knows japanese sign language) and quickly scribbles out a congratulations—in hiragana, because he wants rin to pick up on the fact that they're both from japan. at first, rin thinks he's merely an excitable fan who's showing off the fact that he's learnt japanese to a player of his favourite club, but no, haru quickly clarifies in messy characters, and they fall into a natural conversation.

one conversation turns into many, face-to-face and text, conversations and eventually meetings. haru, despite being somewhat of a technophobe, burries his dislike for technology and abandons the notebook in favour of typing out his responses whenever they converse. (rin asks him to tear out the pages where he'd first scribbled in hiragana to him so he can keep it, for memories' sake). he finds that he likes rin's company, and finds his voice beautiful—and after several visits to rin's trainings and official matches, he starts to feel sad because the cheering at his matches are a loud cacophony of voices, and he knows his will never be a part of it. he falls further into despair when he finds that having rin read off a screen would pale in comparison to him actually being able to speak his mind, emotively, expressively. he wants, so badly, for rin to be able to hear him speak—to hear rin's melodious, sing-song voice, or his child-like laughter in response to something haru says.

and so he makes a decision.

and he isn't sure if rin would approve of it.

[v3nusxsky]

You're accepting request?

Could I request for a platonic Lady Lesso x Never!reader where the reader has a nightmare and Lady Lesso finds out the reader has an abusive family, please? 🥺❤️

I love that you write about sensitive topics and it brings me so much comfort and it just warms my heart.

xoxo,

🫐💋

Hello my darling, Yes I am accepting requests I love hearing from you all so much. And I absolutely adore this idea so I ran straight to writing it for you. I’m glad you enjoy my work I tend to write from experience and if that sheds light on some rough subjects then that’s a bonus. I hope this fic finds you well Anon🫐💋

They still haunt me

*Authors note~ my requests are open guys :) Having a horrid day today so writing this is really soothing my soul to write. I hope that these fics are helping you all as much as me doves*

Trigger warning~ abusive family? Nightmares

Prompt~ see the ask :)

Most people would be distraught at being taken from their own bed and taken to an unknown destination. But you couldn't be happier to leave. Admittedly you didn't know where you were going or why. But did that really matter? You wouldn't be with them and that's all you could focus on. An escape. Your wish finally being heard by the gods above. You should be terrified. But you're not.

When you were finally dropped by the creature you couldn't help but be amazed. This was something from that of the books that you read. Apart from the books didn't give it the justice it truly deserves. One building stood in all its beauty. Light colours with flowers that had bloomed adding intricate patterns on the bricks. To its side stood an onyx replica of the first building. Instead of flowers, vines sprouted there. The two buildings joined by a beautiful bridge. This was most definitely a place of beauty but not one without shades of grey. You were dropped into freezing water outside the onyx building. You began to tread water watching as others were dropped in alongside you. They all seemed ecstatic to be here and that sort of eased your mind a little. It can't be bad if they want to be here right?

Dragging yourself from the water you made your way inside, instantly a tall red head with a stunning cane caught your eye. She seems to alluded a certain confidence which indicated she was the person in change of wherever you were. Timidly you approached her and realised you were right. She was most definitely in charge here. A simple bang of her can and everyone scrambled to find a place in front of her. You being the only one who froze in your spot. You listened as she explained the rules of her school. The dean of evil, lady lesso and also the teacher of curses and death traps. This women was clearly very powerful and well respected here. You made sure to make a note of that, don't piss her off. You quickly found your schedule and dorm room before she pulled you aside.

"Reader" her tone demanded your attention. Reader? "Y-yes?" You stuttered trying to keep eye contact so she wouldn't perceive you as rude. "How are you finding this? I do hope you were paying attention to the rules I will not be explaining them again. Comply or don't, that's up to you. But the doom room will always be there" she stated with a mischievous glint in her eyes. The Doom room? That sounded like the exact place you wanted to avoid. You quickly found a way to scuttle off and avoid any more conversations with anyone else.

You were then all shoved in a hall, you noticed the other side was girls in puffy dresses and boys with swords. Immediately you were glad you didn't have to be subjected to that. The dresses were far to revealing for you personally to wear. The gathering was short but direct. And you were starting to learn that the two sides wouldn't get along. One of good and the other evil. But why wasn't there a middle ground? What if you didn't fit into either of those sides? What would happen to you then? It wasn't worth thinking about. You decided then and there you'd keep your head down and make the most of this opportunity you'd been so graciously gifted.

So much change really was taking it's toll on your body. The stress of a arriving at the school, reliving some of the harsher punishments you received when hearing talks of the Doom room and even dealing with the purple and blue bruises that littered your skin. Adjusting was something you were finding rather difficult if your honest. You were doing extremely well with classes, spending hours sat at your desk, eyes scanning every page of every book you could possibly find. After all you knew you were at a disadvantage not being from this world. A reader as they call you. So you made sure to always put your best foot forward. Always fearing the day where you mess up and receive the correction at the hand of the dean.

The only thing you noticed you lacked here was friendship. It dose sadden you to know that but at the same time it's a relief to not have to come up with lies to cover the truth. You didn't have to spend extra energy covering the internal scarring your family left. This was the safer option despite how lonely it was. This is how you found yourself once again in the small library at the top of the Never building. It was late in the evening and you were attempting to get ahead in your curses and death trap course work when exhaustion took over and you drifted into an uneasy slumber.

That was how you were found two hours lady by the dean herself. She had the torture of patrolling tonight. It was a a tedious task but absolutely necessary, after all the last thing Lesso needs is Dovey reprimanding her on the unruly behaviour of her school. So far tonight's patrol had been dull, the Never's all seemingly behaving, until she heard muttering coming from the top library. As far as she knew none of the students were aware of this library, as it wasn't the main more central one, so it was a complete shock to hear any form of noise from here. It was only natural that she would investigate and when she did the sight that greeted her broke her cold darkened heart.

You had hunched over the desk, head resting on the desk and hands gripping at your sides. You were almost clawing at the skin that was now exposed due to your restless slumber. You had tears flowing down your cheeks, dripping onto the pages of the book below your head, soaking the pages ad you cried out. "Please! No! Stop! Ow! What did I do! I wasn't even that bad!" You seemed to be screaming at someone. In your sleep your body seemingly reacting to a threat that was no longer there. Whatever you were seeing had occurred before that much was clear. Only then did Lesso spot the bruising that was on show.

Putting two and two together wasn't hard, your shyness on day one, the self imposed isolation, trying to follow every rule impeccably and even the way you flinched when other Never's described the Doom room events. It all made too much sense now and Lesso was silently kicking herself for not noticing this sooner. She prides herself on her observation skills so this was an unusual. As Lesso planned her approach you cried out once more, a heart shattering whimper of clear pain. It seemed to echo around the library walls bouncing off them and crashing into Lesso. Whoever had hurt you had hurt you impeccably well.

You shot up, chest heaving and choking on your own sobs as you gasped for breath. You attempted to blink away the remainder of the dream that was playing behind your fuzzy eyes. Due to the state of you, you haven't even noticed the extra presence in the room, even if her eyes were observing every little detail. "Little one?" She almost cooed out, the tone being one you'd expect from the dean of good not Lesso. The words seemingly wrapping around you like a blanket, pulling you back to the present. Only then did you catch a glimpse of the older women and your brain threw you into a panic attack. You were so going to be punished for the display of weakness.

Immediately you made your way to the darkest corner of the room and curled into yourself. Lesso watched in shock not understanding the reaction but not wishing to make it any worse for you. Carefully she stalked forwards hands up in a mock surrender before she knelt in front of you. Your eyes were unfocused and your breathing dangerously out of rhythm. You looked like a terrified child. It was truly a heartbreaking sight. "Little one? It's Lesso, you need to breathe. Can you breathe for me?" She hummed were a comforting tone you didn't know she was capable of mustering. You attempted to breathe as she had asked but every gasp of air was burning your lungs. Sobs now wrecking through you at the pain and knowing you were failing a simple task. "Can I touch you y/n?" She whispered not wishing to spook you in which you nodded and allowed her to gather you in her embrace. Immediately she slowed her breathing to a relaxing rhythm impressed with how quickly you tried to copy it. Praise was flowing from the elder women and effectively aiding in calming you down. You weren't registering the pain of the elder women holding you due to the bruising. Only when you were calm enough did you shrink away from her, the pain now radiating through your body.

"Y/n? What is happening little one?" She murmured not really expecting a reply from you but seeming the fear in your eyes she could come to a good conclusion. "What's the bruising from little one?" Her words causing you to visibly stiffen. "My family" you mumbled through your sobs. It hurt to admit this, despite the truth behind the words. These people were blood, all you had ever known, how could they be the issue when they all shared one common theme. Hating you.  Nodding in an understanding Lesso opened her arms in a silent offer for a hug, you took it instantly overwhelmed and exhausted. Lesso held you tightly but being mindful of the bruising "you're safe my darling, they won't hurt you again I'll make sure of it little one." She reassured rocking you ever so slightly watching as you seemed to snuggle more securely into her warmth. Here in the moment you truly resembled that of a small scared child. It was here that you finally drifted off into a restful slumber, lesso allowed you to stay in her embrace until she was sure you were completely out of this world. Then she simply carried you to your dorm and tucked you in. Before leaving she turned your lamp on and left a simple note on your desk. The note read "dearest y/n come and find me in the morning I wish to speak with you about what you've been going through and find a way to support you, just know you're not alone and won't ever be alone again. You are safe here little one. You're safe with me. Lady lesso"

Word count 1899

*Authors note~ This one was a tough one to write I hope I did it some justice I love hearing from you all feel free to request anything:)*

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary: Reimagined - Introduction Post

Story Summary, Introduction, and Expectations are posted below!

Chapter 1: HERE

Summary:

In an unexpected twist, a mystical device propels you into the vibrant, animated realm of Hazbin Hotel. Formerly an average human existing in live-action, you’re suddenly transformed into an illustrated being that has descended into the whimsical yet terrifying depths of Hell. Seeking asylum, Charlie and the other inhabitants of the Hazbin Hotel offer you refuge as you grapple with the mysterious force binding you to their fantastical realm. Meanwhile, Alastor, the enigmatic Radio Demon, takes a keen interest in you, presenting a tempting deal that proves difficult to resist. However, despite his alluring proposition, his ominous demeanor and menacing tendencies raise suspicions about his true intentions. As the journey through Hell begins, the animated abyss unfolds through a tale of emotions, mystery, and malevolent secrets yet to be unveiled.

Story Introductory Notes:

Update: January 2024 The original version of this story began shortly after the premiere of Hazbin Hotel’s Pilot episode in 2019. At the time, we had limited character backgrounds and lore to reference. Nearly five years later, we’ve finally gotten a series, and so much has been revealed! Naturally, elements of the canonical series and the characters have changed since ‘Imaginary’ began. Therefore, I’ve restructured each chapter to address loose ends, assist with flow, and ensure the characters are more true to themselves. The structure and plot are essentially the same, but far more descriptive detail has been added. I’ve altered a few aspects that needed updating based on what’s been recently revealed from the series and also from gained life experience over the years. Hopefully, the changes will reflect positively! Thank you to all of you who have stuck around from the beginning! You’re the real ones. 

Author’s Note: This version of Alastor will be as close to canon as possible with an exploration into sex-positive asexuality - more specifically, demisexuality along with aromanticism. I understand that this is a sensitive subject within the Hazbin fandom. If you're uncomfortable with sex-positive asexuals (FYI: asexuality is a spectrum), this might not be the story for you. That said, I want to assure all readers that I have written 'Imaginary' with as much care and mindfulness as I can while still practicing artistic freedom. In fact, I myself am on the spectrum. Additionally, I have received invaluable insight and perspective from my asexual and aromantic community to help guide my writing as the plot has progressed. No one's experience is the same, so please keep that in mind as you continue to read this unhinged piece of literature.

Please be mindful of the tags listed in both the general summary as well as before each chapter to indicate specific warnings pertaining to that particular chapter. This story is going to take a lot of unexpected turns. 

Brace yourselves for the ride!

[cuckoo-among-beasts]

Ok, I'm finally writing this, the Ezra and Huaisang connection, aka how I came to feel some kind of connection to this gremlin. I can't tell when that exact moment happened and by that time I had finished the donghua and started on both the novel and web series. In general, I tend to get attached to characters similar to myself, but me and Huaisang doesn't share that much, the biggest difference being him fine with seen as useless and frivolous, while I'm the exact opposite, terrified of being seen as useless, lazy and good-for-nothing. He's also considerably more social than I am. I also tend to rp more "hero-like" characters and although Huaisang isn't a villain, imo, he's definitely not a hero either (the first mdzs character I thought of rping was actually LXC). So what made me steer out from my comfort zone?

Well, we aren't completely different, Huaisang and I, but I'm not going to go into details about that. I'm just going to write about main things that made me love this lazy, cunning, lovable gremlin. This might end up being a bit rambling and it will be very personal. Might end up being long too. I will probably not re-read it, so if it ends up sounding weird or grammatical errors and whatnot, sorry about that. And yes, most of it will be about me since I need to explain shit for anyone to get it.

I was born during a blizzard, it was -40C at the time, this was all a rather unlucky sign since children born during storms are said to bring chaos. Therefore, my parents... ok, I'm kidding. Well, not really, I was born during those conditions and tradition says that will bring chaos, but it has nothing to do with what I'm about to write, I was just thinking about how to start and this popped up. Sorry, sorry.

Let's try again. For as long as I can remember, I've always had a love for art and beauty. I used drawings to communicate before i could properly speak (which I have no memories of). I always loved to draw, but also appreciated others' art, including crafts, sculptures and so on. As a very young child, I could randomly start crying because I found things so beautiful, which also included music and the sounds of words. During early childhood tests, my parents were always told I seemed gifted, if not particularly sociable and communicative. I was a sensitive child, who cried easily and frustrated easily. A child that was either constantly moving or could sit for hours staring, who froze in the middle of things and just daydreamed (I'm still guilty of this) or who could just flop down and take a nap whenever. My three main interest as a child was: drawing, reading (in which ancient China ended up being a favourite subject xD ) and walking around in the forest where I lived watching nature and animals, especially birds (we had several different bird houses, since both my parents are nature lovers as well). This all sounds pretty nice, doesn't it? And it was, at first.

I was repeatedly told off for being too sensitive (funny enough, I was also told off for not emoting enough, all this is still a mystery to me), for not being attentive and sociable enough, for being lazy, for being too chatty (but also too quiet, once again this weird thing where I'm still not sure where the limit goes). Hearing this and other things enough times and you start to realise you're wrong and I started to do my best to change. This was also when I realised that people prefer too little over too much, so even if I couldn't grasp what was emotional enough or chatty enough, if I kept myself stoic and quiet (even when I wanted to and could speak), that was more acceptable than me "overreacting" and "never shutting up". I was still an outsider though, something I would always be and still am. No matter how much I've tried to fit in. At least I still had my interests. For now.

As I grew older and things like job and career starting to creep into my life (around the age of 12, since that's when they start asking you about high school and by then you need to know if you want to study a theoretical or practical program and also what kind of that you want, you can't mix and match subject in the way you do in the US, for example) and I had no answers to what I wanted to do. All I know I liked, and wanted to do, was read, write and draw. I was repeatedly told that's not a career and I should stop with those fancies and not waste my intelligence on "aesthetics" (by this time, I had been in three class plays with fairly prominent roles in all three and I started in the church choir at the age of 8). Hearing this over and over, as well as being severely bullied (by both students and teachers), I basically stopped drawing and at 16, I quit the church choir too, saying I needed to focus on my studies, in reality, I had begun to develop pretty bad anxiety (this all culminated in my early twenties when I basically shut myself in in my flat, it's gotten better since, but I still struggle to talk to strangers or show anything I've created out of fear of rejection and ridicule as well as me being extremely sensitive to criticism. And yes, I do miss the acting and the singing sometimes, especially the singing, I've always loved that too). And yes, I did not choose the "art program" in high school, I went to the "social science program - focus: environment, humans and society" (a mix of science and social science). To keep things short, I eventually got my current diagnoses and began drawing again, which helped. I still don't do it as much as I should. I also still don't allow myself the rest my brain seems to need. I do allow myself to cry when needed when I'm alone now. To make it even shorter, I started to try and find my "true self" again. This included being honest about my transmasculine gender identity. And then it came again. The negativity. How I couldn't be things because "real men" aren't this and that way again. Scared of being unaccepted, I once again hardened myself. Now it also included stop wearing nail polish and getting a more traditional masculine appearance and just generally removing anything "feminine" with how I looked or acted: no emotions, no crying, no softness. Hell no. I just wanted people to believe me when I said I'm not a woman. Since that was it. I wasn't, isn't, a woman, but I'm also not a man and not until I moved her to the UK did I find out that you can be neither and still also be masculine (I'm not going to go into details about my gender identity here, feel free to ask if you want to, but to quickly specify it, I'm a transmasc agender).

Anyway, this is where Huaisang enters. Here is this fictional guy where many of my bad traits and many does dislike him for them, but he doesn't give a shit about that. He is unapologetically himself, and as much as Mingjue complains about him, I think we all know he indulged his didi, making him feel loved for who he is for most of the time. And not only is Huaisang unapologetically himself, he prides himself for his artistic interests, his sensitivity, his uselessness and laziness. My mind made a 360 at that and then... once I realised, I cried. I'm admitting that. Why did this fictional character get to be what I weren't allowed to be? He's even a (cis) male! Outrageous! Yes, I admit that too, I got angry and jealous at a fictional character. It went over quickly. Instead I started to love him and also realise that if someone could come up with a character with these traits that were loved and had friends and so on, then maybe, just maybe, I'm not completely wrong and broken?

Huaisang has partly helped me to try and start taking steps to find who I am now. I'm working on growing out my hair, I've bought nail polish again (only used black so far, but I have a lovely pale mother-of-pearl pink next to me I want to use) and I want to wear beautiful clothes again (still needs to be comfy though), even if I haven't dared checking out the women's section yet (since the men's one are boring and we all know it), but at least the will is there now. I'm trying to get back to drawing and painting more again, but that's also effort since it requires me to take things out and put it away each time. I've returned to some bird watching though.

Huaisang might not be the best fictional role-model you can have, but I think I needed him, still does, he makes his gremlin comments to me sometimes (obviously, I know this is me talking to me). He definitely drives me insane at times (I'm too much of an "Orderly Lan" to him), but it's worth it. The true charmer he is, he managed to even charm me into stepping out of my boundaries, both as myself and for the type of muses I usually portray.

Now, where can I find a real life Mingjue for myself? xD

[neverbelessthan]

15 QUESTIONS FOR 15 FRIENDS

I was tagged by @adickaboutspoons and @edsrosetattoo. Thank you for thinking of me! ❤️❤️❤️ I love this shit. And sorry for taking so long to do it, I had so. much. uni. work.

Are you named after anyone?

Katharine Hepburn. And my mother gave me her middle name ('her' as in my mother's, not 'her' as in Hepburn's - although, Houghton? What a bitchin' middle name jfc), which has pissed my sister off literally from the day I was born because she got given a(n arguably lovely) random middle name instead. Suck it.

When was the last time you cried?

Today.

Do you have kids?

Yep.

What sports do you play/have you played?

I’m an equestrian (dressage, specifically) although I’ve been out of it for a while because I had to have some surgeries, also because I’m broke, and horseriding is basically like burning money. Also figure skating. Group sports are the devil.

Do you use sarcasm?

I honestly wouldn’t know how to get through life without sarcasm. I’m like, 75% sarcasm (in person, at least - online I tend to be a bit more sincere because I generally obsessively re-read anything I post or comment before letting it loose in the world and if it comes off too sarcastic in my own head I’m like dude … stop being a dick).

What is the first thing you notice about people?

I’m hyper-sensitive, and I have acute sensory-sensitivity issues, so generally I pick up on the minutia of how someone presents at any given time (sometimes because it’s all my brain can take in, because wider general observations are too much), like I’ll pick up on shit people aren’t even aware that they’re putting down. Ask me how much fun I am at parties.

What’s your eye colour?

Brown. Very much towards the uniform brown/black end of the spectrum though, not hazel.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Neither.

Any talents?

I’m weirdly excellent at claw machines? Someone pointed out to me the other day that I’ll need to budget half a suitcase and a not-insignificant amount of my travel budget to The Claw Machines because Japan is full of them, and it honestly hadn’t even occurred to me. And by ‘weirdly excellent’ I mean weirdly excellent - like I can’t remember ever having started on one and not ended with a sizeable audience. I recently had a worker at one stop me mid-game to open the box and reshuffle the toys and then watch over my shoulder because he thought I was cheating. I’m also really good at mimicking people’s handwriting. I don’t have a gag reflex. I have full-body hyperextension, so I can do weird/terrifying joint-related things. Are we supposed to be picking weird stuff? I do have normal talents but they’re boring.

Where were you born?

Sydney, Australia.

What are your hobbies?

Sculpture, photography, crochet, knitting. I like small-scale art - miniatures, origami. Music (I play the piano, cello, guitar, and sing). I like plants (hoyas, particularly). Is travelling a hobby (my brain would like me to accept that no, it’s a coping mechanism for escaping the nihilistic futility of existence :)? I’m doing two university degrees right now, so I find that my hobbies don’t get much bandwidth and when I’m not reading about neuroscience or philosophy I’m usually just staring into the middle distance letting my brain power down for 5 minutes. Is that a hobby?

Do you have any pets?

I have a cat. And some tropical fish. And a semi-domesticated water dragon named Richard.

How tall are you?

5’2”. Or, as people often enjoy pointing out: pocket-sized.

Favourite subject in school?

I hated my school, and therefore generally hated all subjects by extension. I loved anything creative: art, music, drama, creative writing, but I was too much of a social weirdo to not get bullied about it all, so I stopped bothering because I wasn’t willing to make/do what I really wanted to because I was too terrified of getting shat on about it, and there didn’t seem much point in doing any of it halfway. Plus it was an academically selective smartypants-assface school, so they didn’t put much stock in anything creative, unless you could top the state in it, and I didn’t really want that sort of pressure, thanks.

Dream job?

Some sort of very well paid, very infrequently required consultant.

I tag, with absolutely no pressure at all (and with profuse apologies to anyone who hates these things or who has already done it and i somehow missed you doing it because i’ve been buried under research and only on here sporadically the past week): @jessystardust, @majesticartax, @follows-the-bees, @theangelyouknew, @iamadequate1, @jeffsinnbythesea, @tositandadmire, @ameryth74, and literally any other mutuals who I haven’t tagged and who haven’t done it that would like to do it. I get such insane social anxiety about participating in these things, but also I love them: The Horrors. Also I know that I didn't tag 15 people, but … anxiety (I've tried to not include people who I've already seen tagged, and have literally gone through the last 50 or so posts of the people I have tagged to try and make sure they haven’t already done it, because i’m an idiot, and you know, being an idiot like that takes time).

[thenighthouse]

Aftersun (2022) and grieving what's still there

I'd been saving (read: avoiding) Aftersun because I knew it would make me cry a lot. I knew it portrayed a father/daughter relationship, and that's also a theme that leaves me in shambles. Yeah, no. Nope. I could never be prepared for the reality of what I experienced.

It feels disingenuous to write about something I don't even want to call a movie. Aftersun was like a memory to me �� the kind that isn't mine, but one that I lived through in other ways, other places, with someone else. It was the most heartwrenching, painful, beautiful, spiritual experience I've had watching a movie.

Aftersun is perfect because, in its simplicity, the very subject of the film can either ride on or get lost in the viewer's experiences and sensitivities. As someone who's struggled with mental illness from a very young age, as well as been surrounded by people with the same struggles for that long as well, the way we slowly see more and more of Calum's depression was jarring.

The scene where Sophie speaks about being so sad after a good, fulfilling day was when I went "oh." I't such a relatable feeling, why does he seem so taken aback, so worried? So guilty? Oh.

And as we slowly see more of his disdain for himself (crossing the street without looking, standing on the railing), it hurts even more to see how present he is with Sophie. He lives for her! Why would he care about himself when he could dedicate himself to her? Granting her time in the sun, protection, food, live music, a carpet she'll get to keep forever. Why would he care?

I can't help but wonder if part of his hurt was due to how much she openly loved him. Sophie loved her father very loudly. When you loathe yourself, it's very hard to fathom why or how someone else would even look at you, much less like you... love you? That’s ridiculous.

"Happy birthday, Dad."

"Sing for my dad's birthday."

"It’s fine, Dad. No big deal."

The juxtaposition of all the strangers singing happy birthday to Calum (lead by Sophie) and Calum crying, retching alone in the hotel room was genuinely terrifying to me. The whole movie, actually, it's like I was there, a fly on the wall watching helplessly as Calum's pain ate him up from the inside out. Knowing Sophie would eventually be left with a gaping hole in the shape of her dancing, smiling father.

There's truly no words that could ever make this movie justice. I feel like I’m grieving.

The resentment in Adult Sophie’s eyes throughout all her scenes is fascinating because it’s also recognition. She’s sifting through her memories of her dad and picking up on things she now, unfortunately or not, understands. Stuff she feels as well.

I haven't spoken to my father for 6 years. He knows nothing about me, who I am, who I grew up to be. I had just turned 21. I hated him for a long, long time — long before we even cut ties. He made many bad choices, said many terrible things, hurt a lot of people.

I’m 27 now. I don’t know who he is anymore either. As I finished the movie, I felt at peace with him for the first time.

[letterstobren]

letter 10

This letter reads:

Oct. 17 Bren,

I want to know what it is like to be called your lover, to know your most intimate thoughts of me. There is so much I hold back in terms of desire -- and that is mainly because I am afraid it will be too much. You say that I can share and that you like when I do, but that level of vulnerability must be an equal exchange. I love the stories we write and the rare moments we connect, but it is you that I crave and long for. I want to be able to express my love, desire, and want for you. I want to give myself to you. How do I tell you? Help me.

Love, K

-------------

When I was younger, beginning when I was a teenager, I was told that my desires didn't matter. It came from all directions: the church said that being sexual was a sin; friends at school were obsessed with purity; magazines boasted the top ten ways to please your man while still appearing to be this innocent thing that all men would desire. All this information spanned every form of media I was consuming. It came from the mouths of the people most dear to me. And I internalized all of it. It ended up informing my early relationships and I never felt comfortable speaking about what I wanted, what I desired, what made me feel good, and what I found attractive.

In my longest committed relationship, I didn't feel like I could vocalize anything. I often faked pleasure because we had gotten together when we were young and the rare times he wanted any kind of physical affection, it was about his desires being fulfilled. I had to temper myself; I couldn't find a way to discuss it so that it wouldn't incite some kind of confrontation. And when I finally got the courage to mention some of my kinks and interests, I was ridiculed and humiliated for them. I ended up closing myself off to intimate interactions and just went along with it because that's what good girls did. Good girls were meant to serve their partners, right?

And I hated myself for the longest time because of it. In all of my relationships, save for those with women, I felt that I had to box up my needs and put them aside. I am naturally the type of person who wants to give my partner pleasure and make sure that their experience is better every single time we interact intimately. I don't just want to fuck; I want to connect. (That sound so fucking stupid as I type it -- and maybe a bit naive -- but I have always wanted to be so in love, so enraptured, that my spirit bonds with theirs on every single level. I digress in my deprecation.)

And there's this also added element that I am in some way damaged. Trauma informs this. The hands of men who claimed they loved me were also the hands that doled out punishment and abuse. No one wants a broken toy; no one wants to deal with the baggage. I haven't really told Bren much about this part of my life. Not that I think he wouldn't be open to receiving it, but because it is hard to talk about. Without getting too far into it, it can be summarized simply as this: if I didn't perform, I was punished. If I didn't rise to the occasion, I was abused. If I didn't want to participate, I wasn't desirable anyway. All of this (and more) mixed with my rejection sensitive dysphoria made for this weird fear of mine that no one is ever going to find me attractive or want me or desire me. How could they?

And then I met Bren.

There is this innate longing to tell him every single thing about me. Good or bad, whether that is right or not, I just go with it. I am honest to a fault with him...except with this. I am terrified of truly expressing my desire for him. I am scared he is going to reject me. (There's A LOT of nuance to this subject and things I am leaving out for the sake of privacy. Sorry, some details are simply for only us to know.) Like...I just want him and only him, but what if I tell him and he rejects me? I don't think I could handle that, honestly. I would probably retreat into the farthest recesses of my brain and never come back out. I would probably cry my eyes out. Why am I the way I am?

Again, I feel damaged and disgusted with myself, ashamed of how I feel and how I want to express it. I hate this part of me more than anything -- the rejection sensitive dysphoria, the inability to speak my desires without being scared, the fear of losing him.

I just want to be good enough. I want him to want me. I want him to think I am beautiful and desirable. I want him to feel that insatiable longing that I feel for him. Maybe I am just fucked up. I don't know. I hate having scattered thoughts when I am writing like this. And cue the crying because I just feel like I am this stupid, broken thing that no one wants.

I don't even have the courage to tell him I updated the letters blog with this one because the idea of him reading this and then pursuing a conversation about it makes me want to fall into a hole. And that's stupid because I want him to communicate. But I am afraid of communicating this one thing. I'm spiraling. This is me cutting myself off before I continue.

At the end of the day, I am in love with him. I want to love him in every way possible. I want to be able to express that love in any way I can fathom. I need to stop being such a coward.

What's the worst that could happen? Oh, haha. He could say I was too much and leave.

Shut up, K.

[tarysande]

I finished my AHOD reread!

And I have some thoughts. Because reading it so many years later was illuminating.

I love this story. I really do. It's been over nine years since I started it (HOW) and five and a half since I updated (SORRY). It doesn't feel like that much time has passed, honestly. And yet ... it has.

And if I stop and really think about all that time, about the person I was then and the person I am now, of course I can see the differences. I am so, so much healthier and happier now. I understand myself so much better. And I understand that understanding myself is the goal of a lifetime; there's no finish line.

I'm going to talk about that a bit, because I've learned some things I needed to learn, and I suspect maybe other folks need to hear about the things I've learned, too.

I've mentioned before that I was very depressed when I wrote AHOD. For most of it, I was living on the other side of the world in a country where I knew virtually no one. My mental health was a mess, but I hadn't yet realized I could do anything about it. Hell, I didn't have any idea just how deep a hole I was in.

AHOD was a lifeline. I loved that people cared about it enough to engage with me. I loved that people had theories and ideas they shared with me. I loved that people always looked forward to the next chapter. I loved feeling like I was a part of something, especially because my life outside the internet was so, so barren and I was so, so lonely. Hell, I loved feeling special.

(I wanted something to go right. Just once.)

Back then, I had no idea that I had ADHD and that every bit of feedback and attention was literally giving me a dose of the dopamine by brain so desperately needed. I also didn't know about rejection sensitivity or hyper-focus or all the other myriad strengths and weaknesses that go hand in hand with ADHD. The rejection sensitivity's important because I realize now that I let a few interactions with others undermine my confidence in devastating ways. A comment, after all, is just a comment, and a wrong guess or criticism or hot take doesn't mean everything is ruined and everything is garbage and how could I have subjected others to this dumpsterfire??

I do know this: I was terrified of fucking it up, letting people down, and being seen as the impostor or fraud my inner critic had convinced me I was. Because then people would hate me, right? Or worse. They'd be disappointed in me. And then I would once again be lonely and alone, online and offline, having failed to prove my worth.

The more pressure I put on myself to be perfect, to juggle all the plates, to tie up every dangling thread perfectly, to show no weakness, to admit to no flaws, the less I could do anything at all. I couldn't reread my work. I couldn't think about it. I sure as shit couldn't write. I tortured myself with my failure to finish AHOD, and I convinced myself the entire story was flawed in ways I could never fix (it really isn't!). Eventually, I couldn't play the games, I could barely engage with fandom, and I—spoiler alert—ended up all but disappearing from the fandom that meant so much to me, anyway.

Because of a future that I convinced myself was inevitable.

(This, friends, is called CATASTROPHIZING.)

I know. The irony is painful. I'm good at being honest. I'm not good at being vulnerable. And I am much better at giving advice than taking my own.

But here's the thing: When I read the story this time, I didn't feel any of that pressure. I didn't feel all of that self-imposed weight on my shoulders. I thought I am proud of this story. I stand by this story. I'm enjoying it immensely. Hell, I love this story. I really wish there was more of it!

But, most importantly, I don't hate myself because there's no more of it.

It's hard for me to explain how revelatory that is. I have barely written anything (well, barring the stuff I write for others and am paid for) in years. My inner critic (she's 100% Moira Callahan, by the way) has been grinding me into the dirt for literal years, and I have let her. I've even felt like I deserved it.

So many other aspects of my life have been fantastic, but I'm not exaggerating when I say I'd started to believe I would never write again. I was trying to get used to it. Trying to accept it. And it killed me. It wasn't something I wanted to give up; it wasn't something I was okay with letting go. I constantly suffered from a kind of phantom limb syndrome.

I've always wanted to tell stories because I've always hoped that somehow, in some way, my stories would help others—even if that help just came in the form of entertaining them when they needed entertainment. Helping people is my calling, you know? When I'm helping people, life feels good. And as much as I enjoy editing (and I do! and I'm good at it!), helping people that way doesn't feel as right as writing does. I need both in my life to be satisfied, to be truly happy.

This is what I learned while reading my old stories this time: The me of ten years ago didn't realize she was writing the stories that the me of right now needed.

And, in reading those stories, the me of right now is starting to feel like she's ready to pick up where the me of then left off. The me of ten years ago wasn't ready to write the endings, if that makes sense. She needed to become the me of right now. She needed to live and heal and thrive—not just survive. She needed the right medical diagnoses and the right meds and she really, really needed therapy. She needed to recognize that she could build a sustainable career from working with words, even if that career wasn't purely as a writer. (She is ready to get back to that dream, too, though.)

I guess the tl;dr here is that healing doesn't have a set timeline. And sometimes you don't really realize how much healing you've done until you face something that used to cause so much pain, only to realize it no longer does. Or, even better—that something new has grown where that pain was, like a new tree growing out of a shattered stump, and maybe that thing might be beautiful.

Anyway. Grace Shepard would tell me this is hope. And hope? It's pretty great.

[astrologyartandcinema]

Mercury Pluto Aspects

Taken from the Late, Great and disabled Astro Arena, not my original work but impossible to find on the web these days. If anyone knows if the former owner of the Astro Arena blog has a Tumblr or link I can give credit to please DM or comment. I haven't been able to access their writing in many years and any information on where to access it would be appreciated.

I wish to look in detail at the Mercury – Pluto combination, which in keeping with allapplications of Pluto evinces a range of difficult effects, most especially because until the behaviour is recognised and reconciled it creates a compulsion, which will be especially uncomfortable for the subject. Inevitably this difficulty and discomfort will affect important relationships too and ultimately – as with any Plutonic contact – the aspect must be transformed to prevent it becoming ultimately destructive. Aspects to Pluto from any of the personal planets are profoundly problematical, but as ever, the first and most effective step on the path to cure must be to recognise the behaviours and take responsibility for them. Owning up to our Plutonic compulsions, shining light upon them – uncomfortable though it may be – is often powerfully effective in transforming them: indeed, in many cases an “instant cure” is entirely possible.

Mercury Pluto, in keeping with other applications of Lord Hades deals with hidden, sinister and subtle aspects of communication and of course the mental processes that underpin them. Indeed, the entire arena of interpersonal communications is fraught for Mercury – Pluto, usually because of an early childhood that is characterised by difficulty, cruelty or power-games in communication matters. We shall explore these causal themes in the ensuing discussion, but first I would like to examine some of the specific effects.

Mercury Pluto is the aspectual manifestation of Mercury in Scorpio, which is renowned for being either verbose or rather monosyllabic. This implies nothing about the underlying mindset or facility for language or mental processing, but only the willingness or unwillingness to reveal the self. This is reflected perfectly by the aspects between Mercury and Pluto, most especially with the conjunction and to a lesser extent the easy aspects there is a loquacious response to the contact: these people talk, often exhaustively although without necessarily revealing much of substance about themselves. Conversely, those with hard aspects are not likely to give too much away, or at the very least – while they may talk freely – they are never comfortable talking about themselves in a way that is particularly incisive or revealing. In either case it boils down to a profound fear of communication and a sense that somehow words can cause pain and lasting damage. With the easy aspects there is not the same urgent sense of danger, but nevertheless there is a need to control the conversation which is engendered by the same mindset as the individual with the hard aspects. Often the Pluto conjunct Mercury person will talk exhaustively and exhaustingly, and the ‘listener’ will often walk away feeling tired and somewhat overwhelmed by the experience. In any case, the process of communicating, with easy aspects or hard, is uncomfortable for both parties involved in the dialogue.

It should be remembered that any aspect between Mercury and Pluto will evince one or other of these effects. For my own part I am extremely familiar with Mercury – Pluto as I have Mercury in Scorpio, peregrine and semi-square, contraparallel and in mutual reception with Pluto, I can speak from experience as to its effects.

With the hard aspects especially, the sense of difficulty with communication creates an observer rather than a participator. Here is somebody who is aware of every subtle nuance of communication and is typically deeply distrustful of words. Usually it will be found that Mercury – Pluto grew up in an environment where truth was taboo, and one or both parents will have been the murky wellspring from which this skewed sense of things was first experienced. It is also possible that an older brother or sister was the cause of the problem or some difficult secret in connection with that sibling or one that haunted and tainted the family environment in some way might be found to be in evidence. On a fairly simplistic level, the Mercury Pluto child will have learned early on that words were not to be trusted at face value. The resentful and controlling mother who would tell her child: “of course I love you darling, more than anything in the world” while evincing no genuine or believable warmth is one good example of this effect. There is then a dichotomy here, between words and more subtle forms of non-verbal communication that have poisoned the child’s perceptions. Body language, ever a reliable indicator of true feelings, is therefore valued much more highly than any simple verbal statement, but this again is fraught with difficulty. The Mercury – Pluto person is formed in such away that they are innately suspicious of any communication: this is very often sensed by others, who feel that they are “on the spot” somehow, and their body language will betray their discomfort which will in turn set off the ultra-sensitive radar of Mercury – Pluto. This can create a cycle of suspicion, distrust and interrogation that is especially exhausting within close relationships later in life.

Therefore, the Mercury – Pluto type is often handicapped in life by being too perceptive and it is through this mechanism of not being able to take things at face value and exhausting oneself and others by continually investigating the most subtle of interactions that the damage is done.

The child learned to do things this way because of the unreliability of close family communications. Language may have been used to damaging effect by a parent or sibling, secrets were kept and wielded almost politically within the early home environment and this actually characterises very neatly the quality of this combination for the afflicted. Words cannot ever mean what they say, there is usually a hidden agenda, an ulterior motive, a secret being kept: indeed this is exactly the case in the childhood home, but the problem is that the child grows up and takes this same understanding out into the world and applies it indiscriminately to every relationship in the whole of life from then on.

But there is a more profound realisation here too. It is not actually so much what is said that concerns Mercury – Pluto, but indeed what is  not said. This creates an anxiety about communication that is really very disturbing: this is why the native talks so much (in the conjunction or easy aspect), not because they have anything much to say, but because they are terrified of the silence and what it might mean. The child will no doubt have been controlled with lack of communication as much as the use of ugly, brutal or cruel language. A parent or sibling may have ostracised or ignored the child as a means of creating an emotional anxiety, or made vague, open-ended threats which would have created a sense of foreboding and impending anguish all with the express purpose of eliciting control.

There is too a legacy of damaging secrets in the early home which would have reinforced this sense of anguish, very often there are half-brothers or sisters who are kept secret or in some other way separate from the rest of the family. There may also have been other secrets relating to siblings which, when revealed created anxiety in the native: I have seen cases where a more favoured sibling is secretly given money or some other treat or benefit by a parent unbeknown to the Mercury Pluto child and when this is learned the assurances by the parent that they love their children equally become hollow and suspect.

At its best, and transformed, Mercury Pluto makes an excellent researcher and psychologist. Able to delve into the deeper and more innate realities of interaction they can often see cause where others cannot; they see the subtle motivations that are in fact pre-cognitive, and in a very real sense they do not need the words to arrive at an understanding. In fact, the Mercury – Pluto person can often be frustrated at the depth of their understanding because words are ultimately a rather blunt instrument when trying to convey the profundity of their insight and this creates another signature of the contact of course: Mercury Pluto despises the superficial and capricious. Intense and insightful, but with a need to avoid obsessing, Mercury Pluto is a natural researcher and student of human nature and motivation, they make excellent counsellors and – once the aspect is transformed – powerful and persuasive communicators who are able to see into the heart of any matter.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Can you write about toddler Leggy? Thranduil not able being able to find him and go looking all over Mirkwood, only to finally find them asleep on Thranduil’s throne, covered in his robes?

Hey hey...I am terrible when it comes to writing children!

(I have no kids, I want no kids, I don't even like kids...)

BUUUUT I've tried my best for you...

Solar eclipse

Words: 1 k

Warnings: kid, Thranduil having lowkey a panic attack, reference to grief

Cold – a perversely burning sensation – crept down Thranduil’s back like icy fingers scratching his failure into his pristine skin.

No, he couldn’t give in to this insidious feeling that tried to ensnare him like quicksand pulling him down inexorably; he would not let anything pin him down or trap him into motionless terror again.

“Legolas!” he called and, even to his own ears, his voice sounded strangled and shivering like the scream of a single leaf plucked off its stem before its time, “son, where are you?”

The king hastened his stride, the overwhelming pressure of barely contained fear giving his light steps wings as he swept up and down stairs and crossed patios wild-eyed; more than once, servants and subjects had to leap aside – with an uncharacteristic lack of grace – to avoid a bone-rattling collision with their sovereign ruler.

He could smell his own anxiety leaking through every pore of his body; it was a sickening, weakening, paralysing mist of fumes that made his heart race and his blood roar in his over-sensitive ears.

Legolas, he thought frantically, his youngest son, his blessed gift; he had lost his own baby boy.

Elflings were guarded jealously for their purity, their immeasurable value, but also for their fragility; they were like tender saplings that were reared carefully under starlight and constant supervision until their bark grew sturdy enough to withstand hail and storm.

This particular child had been granted to him like an unexpected – and probably undeserved – miracle, Thranduil knew, and his galloping pulse slowed to a sluggish crawl as his blood froze in his veins when he found the last of his son’s usual hiding places deserted as well.

What wonder and astonishment had blossomed in his chest when his late wife – light of his night sky and shadow of his burning days – had settled that tiny bundle of pure starlight in his weary arms.

Legolas was the new growth springing forth from a dead trunk; he was the winter blossom, pale and perfect; he was the river born of a dried-up source and Thranduil was terrified of being cheated or robbed of this benediction he called his own.

Looking down at his hands – balled into fists, white with tension, clawed around the torturous absence – helplessly, Thranduil retraced his steps slowly.

He had been waiting, ever observing the horizon for the next harbinger of doom, when Legolas had been born and – ever since – his doubts and secret fears had but redoubled in intensity and frequency, but – and what a momentous ‘but’ it was – Thranduil had also found his way back to the gifts of youth he had long put away with his first sword and his dented armour of days gone by.

For his son, he had endeavoured to come back to life; he had clawed his way back from the fossilised indifference of centuries of patience, he had cast off the eternal veil of grief piled onto his shoulders like so many heavy capes, and he had unclenched his teeth around words and desires that had run dry along with his tears when he had lost his beloved wife.

Legolas – star in the blackest of nights – had brought him back from the brink of slow oblivion by his unwavering faith and the sheer pristine light of a pure soul that shone through his eyes that were so much like Thranduil’s in colour and so much like his mother’s in their warm kindness.

Where Thranduil’s smile was cutting, Legolas’ was soothing; where Thranduil’s voice was thundering, Legolas’ was like the soft patter of summer rain; where Thranduil’s aura was hectoring, Legolas’ was inviting, and the king knew that the loss of his son – for no matter how short a time – would be akin to the darkening of the sun and the poisoning of the rain.

Whatever life he had wrung out of stone, built out of water, and hewn out of wind-swept clouds, Thranduil knew that he’d never be able to sustain the magic without his beloved son by his side.

A tiny sound made his ears twitch, and he nearly flew into the throne room where his robes lay – discarded carelessly – draped over the cold, empty throne.

And there he was, curled upon himself in a nest of fabric like the most exotic and frailest of paradise birds ever to grace the Greenwood Forest.

"Ada?" Legolas rubbed one eye with a narrow, elegant fist while blinking resolutely against the remnants of sleep that clung like cobwebs to the inside of his eyelids.

“Where have you been?” Thranduil gusted, harsher than intended, his chest seizing spasmodically with a mix of relief and afterpains, “I have been worried sick about you! You left your nursery…”

“I…” Legolas yawned, his huge blue eyes now trained innocently on his father’s face, “I wanted to come see you, but you weren’t here, so I decided to wait for you right where I was. You always say that – in case I get lost or I cannot find you – to stay where you can find me.”

“That is right,” Thranduil nodded, bundling up the small creature in his robes and swooping the whole package into his arms, “that was well done.”

Breathing in the smell of sleep and warm earth that emanated from the living warmth of his youngest offspring, Thranduil said a prayer of thanks – a rare occurrence – to the Valar for sparing him a tragedy he would not heal from.

“I am sorry that you were worried, Ada,” Legolas whispered, plunging his small hands into his father’s open hair and toying with the long, silken strands idly, “I’ve never meant to make you sad.”

“I am not,” Thranduil contradicted, rocking the boy slightly, “let’s get you to bed.”

He was lying, of course, but the heart-wrenching, blood-curdling, all-consuming sadness that came from loving another soul too much was a lesson far beyond the understanding of his precious baby son; he truly hoped that he could shield him from the terrible, helpless synthesis of rage, fear, and desperate longing for centuries and millennia to come.

Dearest anon, I hope this was okay for you :D

Thank you for submitting a request...Soon, I'll have to make a master list for the Elves as well LOL

😂😂😂

Honestly, I do not even know how we've gotten to the point where I write that many Leggy/Thrandy stories, but I lowkey live for it ❤️

Good night and all the best to you

I don't know who you are, but I hope you know that I think of you kindly ❤️‍🔥

[bangchanswolfpelt]

omg, I was the anon who sent the ball stretcher ask for soobin and I am CRYING, you explained it so well :')))) and the idea of soobin big and heavy balls made me w e a k (idk how I never thought about that) but it def would look hot with a ball stretcher. What other toys do you think would fit really well with subby!soob?

i'm so glad you liked it!!💞 it spun so wildly out of control, haha, i didn't mean to write literally a thousand words but something possessed me. 😭 and there are sooooo many toys that i think would be fun to use with Soobin, honestly the better question is what wouldn't i use on this boy. 😈

butt plugs!!

this boy wants, needs, and deserves to be pegged

I feel like Soobin’s the type who jerks off to the thought of having his ass played with a lot, but has always been too nervous to actually try anything on his own

make him wear butt plugs to get him used to playing with his ass, and also so that when he’s just going through the day, he has something to remind him of you even when you’re not around 🥰

(i also feel like he’d look sooooooo cute with one of those fluffy lil bunny tail butt plugs 👀)

nipple clamps and suckers/pumps

there’s not much to this one—any toy that makes him extra sensitive is gonna be fun cause i just wanna overstimulate him til he cries, and also i just think he would look so cute with puffy engorged little nipples from pumping 🥺

blindfolds and ring gags

this boy loves to be at your mercy and used by you

he loves watching you play with him and fuck him, but there’s something really exciting for him about not being able to see what’s coming

everything is just so much more intense for him with a blindfold, imagine seeing him perk up at the smallest sighs out of your mouth, imagine him whining and arching up into the lightest brush of your fingers against his skin

any kind of gag would be fun, but I feel a ring gag on Soobin would be especially *chef kiss* 🧑🏽‍🍳🤌🏽💋

he can’t speak, which makes teasing him with embarrassing questions even more fun, but at the same time it stops him from muffling those pretty little whines and moans you love so much 🥰

it keeps him nice and accessible for you, too—keeps his mouth stretched open for you to fuck with your fingers or your strap-on, lets his tongue stay free in case you want to sit on his face and fuck yourself on his tongue

also, if you just wanna be mean to that pretty little mouth, he can’t stop you—play with and pinch those pouty lips, grab his tongue and massage it to make him drool all over himself—gags are inherently humiliating and messy, but with a ring gag you just have so many options 🤤

chastity cages, cuffs, leashes

is he getting hard all the time when you’re in public together?

not anymore >:]

making him wear a cock cage starts out as a way to humiliate him a little—if he can’t keep his cock under control, you’ll just have to do it for him

but alongside the very enjoyable embarrassment that comes with having to have someone else restrain him, there’s also an intense relief for him—if he can’t do anything, there’s no point in worrying about doing the right thing or about his body doing the wrong thing without his permission

this same feeling is what eventually leads to you cuffing him down in bed—he doesn’t need to be restrained, he’d never dream of doing anything without your permission, but knowing that he can’t do anything, that he’s completely helpless to your whims is just so good for the both of you 🤤

like, i feel like restraints are the best way to turn his brain off and put him into sub space—imagine Soobin all floaty and dazed and sweet for you, body fully relaxed and ready to take whatever you want to give him

circling back to my pet play agenda for just a moment: imagine putting a leash on him and yanking him where you want him, calling him your lil bunny cause god knows he can fuck like one 👀

lots of pain/sensation toys—pinwheels, vampire gloves, maybe even paddles and crops

i feel like Soobin would be just a bit of a painslut—the contrast just heightens his pleasure

he’d look so good marked up—trails of red running along his pale skin, eyes glazed and mouth slack, fucked out just from the thought that anyone could tell he belongs to you just from looking at him 🥰

i would also like you to consider: bending this very big boy over your lap and paddling his ass until it’s bright red and hot under your palm, until his cock is leaking all over your thighs and he’s making tearful, pathetic promises to be a good boy for you 👀

honestly, tho, i truly think Soobin would let you try just about anything you wanted on him, and would get genuinely excited at you making him just. take whatever you felt like using on him. he’d get off on the fear and confusion of not knowing what’s next or maybe even seeing what’s coming next but not understanding it.

i’m not super into medical kink, but imagine playing doctor with him as an excuse to just subject him to every single toy you want to try out. imagine setting him down on a little exam table with that crinkly exam room paper that lets you hear every one of his nervous little fidgets. rolling in a stainless steel tray laid out with a truly terrifying number of toys: pinwheels, plugs, and dildos all in gleaming sterile steel; clinical looking little nipple suckers; an intimidatingly high-tech looking electro wand kit; some tiny little hammers and pen lights and tongue depressors just to round out the set. how sweet and shy he’d be as your naive, anxious little patient. 🥺 ugh fuck i think im gonna hafta write medical roleplay with Soobin now 😭😤🧑🏽‍⚕️

tagging: @jensdior

[mimzy-writing-online]

Dear Mimzy, I can't begin to tell you how happy I was to find your advice on how to write a blind or visually impaired person respectfully. Thank you so much for doing that. It was very helpful. I'm currently writing a book and I'm about to start the editing phase. I'm writing you to ask if you would consider being a beta reader of mine? I'll pay you, of course. You can write me on Instagram: mettepeleikis if you're interested. Once again thank you for your helpful blog. - Mette

PART 1/2: Mette again. Even if you're not interested in beta reading my book, I do have some questions that I haven't found the answers to on your blog. I hope you can help me by giving me your opinion on these two things. 1. The love interest of my MC loses his sight from a head trauma accident (I did read you advice against that but it's unfortunately not something I can change now) but do you consider that "victimizing your blind character" like when you mentioned rape?

PART 2/2: Gosh, I'm sorry for spamming you. Here's my second question. I never wanted to cure my blind character, but I did have in mind that a surgery could partially restore a bit of it. Just enough for him to see a bit of color. Do you think that is as bad as curing them when partially restoring his sight? Thank you so much, Mimzy. Best, Mette

Mimzy answered: I’m so happy I could help your writing process! Hearing that I help makes every day much better, especially since this is part of what I’ll be focusing on in school.

I am considering taking a few beta-reading contracts in the winter between school semesters. I am going to put a note down with your Instagram contact.

As for your first question, I recently made a post going in-depth about writing whump and using blindness for plot purposes. It has far more depth and nuance to the subject than my initial post did in 2019, largely because that was (still is) a topic I struggle to talk about.

(The following paragraph is useful advice to all writers, not just Mette)

The concern about head trauma being the cause of blindness stems more from how rare it is compared to natural causes of blindness. Glaucoma, Macular Degeneration, Cataracts, and Diabetic Retinopathy are the most common causes of vision loss. The head trauma route is also a big sign that the writer took the lazy way out of researching the cause of the character’s blindness, which suggests to the reader that the character is more of a prop than a character. The best thing you can do to avoid this sentiment, avoid inaccuracy and insensitivity, is to deeply research the specific details of the injury and how that will affect your character’s vision.

I found an article for you with a wide variety of specific injury types that can follow a traumatic brain injury. It will be a good starting point in your individual research.

What Mette is describing doesn’t sound like victimizing, at least not as I would personally define it. Victimizing would be using the character’s trauma and blindness to teach the main character some kind of lesson, very much like the trend of violently killing off female characters to push the male protagonist’s storyline.

The message a plotline like that sends to a blind reader is that how our blindness affects our loved ones is more important than how it affects us, that we’re a burden to our loved ones, and that our feelings about vision loss don’t matter because we’re a plot device for our family’s story.

Or using the character’s blindness as a way to “set up” a plan to hurt the character. An example would be the character getting kidnapped and not realizing they were being stalked because of their blindness. A good exercise to test if you’re falling into this trap would be to ask yourself “if this character was a drunk teenage girl, would this look like victim blaming?” If the answer is yes, then you need to rethink that plotline.

The message this plotline sends is that being disabled makes you an easy victim to assault, that it’s only a matter of time before it happens, that it happens because you’re disabled and that it’s somehow your fault.

It’s also a reminder of a terrifying but very real statistic of how common it is for a disabled person to be a victim of a crime. I found a webpage discussing it if you’d like to further educate yourself.

So there’s a big difference between an author exploring the trauma around sudden vision loss, and an author turning that trauma into shallow dramatics for entertainment purposes. One has the chance to make you feel seen, and the other makes you feel objectified.

Ask yourself how your story compares to what I’ve described and if/how you can do better.

To answer your last question, I’m not 100% sure. Realistically, if offered a chance to surgically improve your vision when you were in the early stages of learning to adapt, you might very well jump at the chance. Some might, but there are plenty of reasons why you might decline the surgery. It’s very likely you might develop a phobia against medical care (iatrophobia) following a traumatic medical experience, and perhaps avoid doctors and medical procedures at all costs, even if it means potentially allowing conditions to get dangerously worse before seeking help. If your story is based in America, chances are that a procedure like that will be too costly, even with insurance. Double-check medical care costs in the country the story takes place in if you’re not sure. Hearing that the surgery might risk you losing more sight with very little promise of returning your vision, especially long term, would be a big motivation to decline. Resentment against how doctors and loved ones focused on wanting to “fix you” instead of helping you adjust might be a reason to decline. (It certainly was for me, especially when the proposed solution wouldn’t completely improve my vision. This was prediagnosis) Being far enough into your recovery due to a great support system and therapy might also be a reason to decline the surgery, stating that you’re happy with life as is.

Personally, I would hate to lose my color vision. Vibrant colors make me absurdly happy. However, if I did lose my color vision and a specific surgery was proposed to possibly restore it, it’s highly unlikely I would accept for almost all of the reasons stated above.

It’s a subject that will require more than one sensitivity reader, and possibly asking people within the blind community how they feel about that. A variety of responses will help you explore the nuances of the plotline.

I always recommend @blindbeta as a sensitivity reader because I love their work discussing different blind characters in media and their advice posts.

Thank you for the positive feedback, it made my night :)

(after post notes: dear god I hope this is coherent. This was written between the hours of 1 and 2 am. Yeah, this blog is called the Late Night Writing Advice Blog for a reason. Also (@ everyone, I shared some personal feelings tonight, please treat that with respect)

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. If you haven't yet seen the 2013 erotic thriller In Secret starring Elizabeth Olsen, Oscar Isaac and Jessica Lange I highly recommend it. I've watched it twice in the past month. Lol.

Oscar's character Laurent Leclaire is so sensual, so devious that I decided to write a short, filthy little fanfic starring you, the reader, and him.

Laurent is sexy evil personified, sigh.

The setting is 1860's Paris. The story takes place before Laurent meets Elizabeth Olsen's character Therese. You are a young (nothing illegal, you are 19) virgin artists model that gets seduced and absolutely ravished by the dominant, more worldly Laurent one evening in his studio when you are posing for him.

Warnings, female receiving oral sex, dominance, frank descriptions of painful virginity loss, rough sex, language, not for anyone under 18. Just pure, gratuitous, thirsty smut. Lol.

But it's set in the Victorian Era so that makes it classy? Lmao.

Touch and taste

Things started out fairly innocent enough. You met him at your older sister's dinner party one evening.

He is a friend of your sister's husband, they went to school together.

Your sister is much more outgoing than you and at 19 you are still unmarried, having never even held hands with a man before.

You live with your sister and brother in law in an old but tidy home in Paris. You are middle class and the home is well decorated and furnished. Your sister is expecting her first child and you are looking forward to helping care for the infant.

The two of you have a warm, loving relationship.

Even for the Victorian Era you are painfully shy, your sister had to beg you to come to her party.

There are several single men there and she's trying to find you a suitor, a potential husband.

He was an artist, and his name was Laurent Leclaire.

You sat across from the mysterious, brooding man and as you attempted to make small talk with the other guests you couldn't help but notice from the corner of your eye how he looked at you.

It was like Laurent was studying you, taking in your shy, delicate beauty. When your eyes finally meet he flashes you a devilish little smirk that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your face turns bright red and you immediately look down.

In the glow of the candlelight you can make out his absurdly beautiful chiseled features. His curly hair, dark eyes, and of course that smile. He made you feel things, unfamiliar feelings that terrified you somewhat. You feel a twinge, an ache, coming from somewhere inside of you. Somewhere where good, Christian women don't normally get those feelings

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" Your sister asks, noticing your flush.

"It's nothing". You reply quickly with a nervous giggle.

"Perhaps I've imbibed in too much wine, I'll be fine".

"Oh my it's getting worse!" The older lady sitting next to your sister exclaimed.

You happen to catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror hanging on the wall across from you. Indeed the flush has gotten worse, your pale cheeks are as red as cherries.

"Let's get you upstairs". Your sister insists, helping you get to your feet.

"No I'm fine". You reply, sounding slightly irritated.

"You look terribly unwell". Your sister continues. "Come with me".

You reluctantly follow your sister upstairs to your room. You have to pass the handsome stranger on the way by, and you could have sworn you felt his hand brush yours, and then down the soft velvet of your skirt.

Once upstairs your sister helps you undress. You crawl into your bed and she brings you a cup of warm tea.

"You have a fever". Your sister frets as she lays her hand on your forehead.

"Quit fussing over me I assure you that I'm fine". You reply, smiling a little as you begin work on the embroidery project that was waiting by your bed.

"How am I ever to find a suitor with you making me leave the party early?"

"There's noone suitable there". Your sister replies sharply.

"What about the dark haired gentleman across from us?" You inquire, a slight smile creeping across your face.

"His name is Laurent and he is nothing but trouble". Your sister snaps back. "Stay away from him, I mean it, he will ruin your reputation".

Your sister's harsh words surprise you a bit, but you now have a name, Laurent, and you are also intrigued by your sister's stern warning.

Ruin my reputation? What on earth does that mean? You wonder as you nod off to sleep.

The next morning you are awakened by the familiar smell of food cooking and the sound of men talking. Sleepily you leave your bedroom and step into the hallway.

It's him again. You catch a glimpse of Laurent talking to your brother in law in the foyer. You immediately duck back into your bedroom and hastily get dressed.

You dash down the stairs quickly, brushing past Laurent. You look at him and flash a shy smile, he smiles back warmly.

You enjoy a nice leisurely, breakfast with your sister, brother in law and Laurent. You catch him glancing at you again, your face turns a light shade of pink.

Afterwards Laurent catches you alone in the foyer. You formally introduce yourself, Laurent kisses your hand.

"Your features. They're so classically pretty, like a sculpture". Laurent tells you as a rather seductive smile appears on his handsome face.

"I'd like to, if you wouldn't mind, paint you".

You giggle nervously at his proposition as your face turns pink. Laurent gently touches your flushed cheek,

you look at him and say nervously, "I'll do it".

"Wear that beautiful velvet dress you had on last night, and the pearl earrings too". Laurent replied, looking into your eyes.

The next afternoon you nervously arrive at Laurent's small flat/art studio, which was only a short walk from your own home.

As soon as he opens the door he smiles brightly and takes your hand. He leads you to a small room, where you sit on a chair in front of an easel.

Laurent sits next to you, looks deeply into your eyes and says,

"Tell me more about you, y/n, I like to learn more about my subject before I paint them".

"There isn't much to say really". You reply quickly, your face turning bright red again. "I'm 19, from Paris, I love my sister and brother in law. Both our parents passed years ago."

"You get embarrassed around the opposite sex, don't you?" Laurent pressed, taking your hand in his and stroking it. "You're so innocent like a child, but at the same time I know you're curious".

The man has read you like a book, you gasp a little at his words and start to tremble noticeably. Laurent leans over and kisses you gently on the cheek.

"Can I kiss your beautiful lips?" He continues, his breathing changing a little due to his own arousal.

"I've never done this, kissing". You reply, the heat from the lower part of your body becoming almost unbearable. "You'd have to show me".

"Open your mouth a little bit". Laurent orders, stroking your cheek with his strong hand. "Follow what I do".

He passionately kisses you using his tongue, you're shocked but quickly mime what he is doing. One of his hands drifts to your lap and he starts to stroke the wetness that is hidden by your pantaloons.

"Undress for me, I want to see my beautiful subject, all of you". Laurent orders, not asks.

You are so caught up in the moment, in him, that you obey his commands.

Noone has ever seen you like this, male or female. Well, maybe your sister. Definitely no men. You are trembling a little as you stand before him.

Laurent uses a paintbrush to trace and tease your body, you can see his hard manhood through his trousers.

"Let's go into my bedroom, I want to touch and taste you". He orders.

You go into his bedroom and recline on his bed. Laurent undresses, revealing his lean, muscular body.

His hard cock looks massive, intimidating, you've only seen them in medical journals and you've had no idea that they were this large in person. Perhaps it's just his own personal endowment.

Laurent kneels between your trembling legs and gently spreads them.

"It looks like an orchid, a fragile, pink orchid, it's so beautiful". Laurent tells you as he teasingly massages your intricate folds that are peeking through a thick patch of hair with his fingers.

He leaves you for a moment and grabs a sketch pad, he uses charcoal and quickly sketches your womanhood. When Laurent is done he shows you, you gasp a little and say, "I've never seen this side of myself".

"Can I touch and taste your petals?" Laurent pushes, you can see the desire burning in his eyes.

"Taste? What do you mean?" You ask, innocently having no clue what he means.

"Let me show you". Laurent purrs, leading you back over to his bed. "Tell me where you want my tongue".

You relax on the bed again, you gently spread your legs and he kneels before you and spreads them further.

He touches his tongue on your sensitive bud, causing you to immediately tremble from pleasure.

Laurent begins to suck and lick your frilly inner lips, you moan with delight from the intense sensation that you are feeling spread throughout your body.

What he's doing to you feels so good yet so sinful, and dirty.

Laurent's tongue moves down further, and he hits a barrier, your hymen is still intact and fairly thick, he gives it a gentle little flick with his tongue.

He then buries his face into your hairy mound, taking in your sweet, musky scent, the tip of his nose brushing against your wetness.

Your scent makes him moan from delight, Laurent is showing you just how much he savors and appreciates the female anatomy.

He teasingly strokes your innocence with his finger, being extra careful not to penetrate it or break it.

It's almost like he's in awe and aroused at that little barrier.

"My cock needs you, I need to feel this". Laurent begs, you can see the precum oozing from his hard tip.

"It's for my husband". You reply quickly and nervously.

"Noone cares about that anymore, especially in this city". Laurent tells you with a quick laugh.

You are so worked up and attracted to him that you relent, he spreads your legs again and positions himself on top of you.

Laurent starts to enter you, you gasp and sputter in a mixture of agony and pleasure as he slowly penetrates you, both of you can feel the moment your hymen breaks, spilling a considerable amount of blood on his sheets.

"Does it hurt?" Laurent asks.

"Yes". You reply, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Good". He replies, thrusting into you harder.

With your legs wrapped firmly around his waist Laurent fucks you, hard. The pain quickly turns to pleasure as you become more comfortable with his body.

When he cums he fills you with a fairly large load as he moans and sputters. Afterwards Laurent spreads your legs again, and sticks his tongue deep inside of you, tasting a mixture of your juices.

Your sister is correct. If Satan himself walked the earth his name would be Laurent Leclaire. The man is so virile, so charming and so handsome that even you, the shy, innocent virgin relented to his charms.

Afterwards with his help you get redressed. As he's lacing you into your corset Laurent gently kisses and nuzzles your neck, muttering about how beautiful you are.

You sit with him through the night and he does indeed paint your portrait, as promised.

"You touched my hand and dress when I was walking by at the dinner party, didn't?" You ask, your face turning pink again.

"Of course". He replied, chuckling a little. "I wanted to see if you were as soft and delicate as you looked. Your silken hand felt just like the beautiful fabric of your gown".

"Why the pink background?" You continue, smiling a little.

"The pink represents the blushing of your cheeks". Laurent explains, sounding like every bit the serious artist. "And the colors of your beautiful petals, you are truly a masterpiece of God's creation".

The end

[hatboyproject]

This is very long, but it might be of interest to someone, somewhere. I was asked recently about the direction I'm taking this romance in and whether or not I'll be addressing certain disability specific subjects within it. The answer, of course, is yes - I have always planned to do this in one form or another. Whilst no single piece of media can address everything I'd like to say on the subject, and I am working within the bounds of a larger story with its own pacing and focus to consider, there's still room to touch on some of these things.

I'm aware that my interpretations won't always be the same as others'. They are my interpretations, coloured by my experiences and feelings, and ultimately, this is my mod - I'm writing it for everybody who 'wears the ballcap,' so to speak! But, it's my interpretation of this character that I'm trying to share with everyone. Different people "took the helm" (laugh, I'm hilarious!) on writing Jeff across the trilogy, and as time has gone on I've been trying to convince myself that it's okay to have my turn at doing that, too - albeit in a non-professional capacity. So... Let's get into my interpretation of Jeff, where his stuff comes from on my view, and how things went to get him to where we are at the beginning of ME3, where the romance can occur.

A lot of how I interpret him comes from experiences in my own life with my own issues, and with those of my loved ones, some of whom are physically disabled in similar (but not identical) ways to Jeff. Some of this carries an element of catharsis for me.

Mechanically and narratively speaking, what draws me to writing this romance is the contrast between how these two characters are strong. It's this core idea that strength doesn't have only one manifestation in a person. That loving somebody doesn't have to be done only one way, that it can be beautiful and passionate and fulfilling - even if, when it gets physical, the headboard can't exactly be made to shatter with the force of it all. For me, it's also an exercise in insecurity and dealing with feelings of frustrated inadequacy - something that has plagued me my whole life.

Yes, yes, he's fictional - but the only way for me to really get into a character is to think about them as if they're a real being. When I look at Jeff as a person, I see many things... Some very positive, some pretty negative... I try to see him as a complete person with strengths and flaws.

On the surface he is often defensive, dismissive, sarcastic, and emotionally avoidant. But why is that? He is highly skilled, dedicated and capable, and knows it, but at the same time is a person who is constantly overlooked, underestimated, and asked to work thrice as hard to get the same considerations. Even then, his validity is questioned often by almost everyone around him. Over time, combined with the realities of living with his physical condition, this has given him some deep-seated insecurities. He feels the need to brag about his skills because they are, ultimately, the one thing about himself that he is absolutely certain has real worth. He overcompensates for this by abusing rules and technicalities wherever he can, because I think he knows that if he played life by the rules, he'd never have gotten anywhere. It's a stacked deck, so why not hide some aces up his sleeve? When you don't fit in the box provided, you question the value of every box you see.

When a person lives with this long enough, it can get hard to swim against the tide of society's expectations and still remain chipper about it, let alone not internalise some of it. It can cause a person to create a shell constructed out of distrust and untruth.

Living with a disability can really suck sometimes, and the suck is compounded when having to deal with your own frustrations plus those of others. In my personal experience, that happens a lot.

There is a certain sense of alienation that it can create, and it can become a kind of Sword of Damocles. It can be easier to anticipate rejection and others' assumptions, inabilities to understand or relate than to keep reaching out, only to have the same tired conversations about being different. I see a lot of this in him. I understand the chip he has on his shoulder.

I also see an extremely sensitive, empathetic, devoted and boundlessly loving person under all that. In fact, it's because of these things that I think he actively tries to distance himself. At the core of his being, I see Jeff as somebody who loves quickly and completely. I think he sees that as a vulnerability, incompatible with what he's learned he has to do to survive... and also with the machismo thing that comes with being a pilot. I think on some level he's terrified of that about himself, but he also can't help it. Jeff is ride or die. So, he tells himself he doesn't care and never lets anyone in. Any time anyone showed interest, he'd shut them down, alienate them, distance himself, and get in the seat of something that flies.

I think up until now, (ME3) he's seen intimacy both as a thing he longs for, but is also afraid of because of his fundamental knowledge that he is different. He thinks he can't "measure up" to what he sees all around him. He sees romance as something that will lead to his inevitable rejection and being crushed, emotionally - and if he's not careful, physically, too. I think he's embarrassed about that as well. He's very interested where it comes to all that, but the things he likes to watch, he knows he can't do like that. His only experience is second-hand as a voyeur, so some of his perceptions about that are unhealthy for him. I think any kind of attempt by the medical professionals in his life to broach the topic and offer support on, he's angrily changed the subject, or stopped listening to, because of the entire mess above. I think Jeff is kind of a lonely person, and some of it is self-imposed, though the reasons for him thinking it's the right thing to do aren't all within his control.

All this is difficult for him to reconcile with, because he has been desperately in love with his commanding officer since almost the moment s/he met him, but entirely unprepared to face it.

I think at first it was easy for him to dismiss it as a stupid crush. Everyone gets them when cramped up in close quarters in stressful situations and the Commander's magnetism was hard to ignore. But then it became clear that Shepard really hadn't read his file and really hadn't made any assumptions at all about him. S/he just wanted to know him, and as time progressed and that actually bore out, it got hard not to really feel something powerful, even though s/he was the Commander and it wasn't strictly appropriate to think that way. But, then there was that thing about not fitting in the box provided...

I think he agonised over coming to Shepard with it, but ultimately decided it would be selfish with everything they were going through. I think there was a part of him that decided s/he'd never be interested anyway, not when there were other, healthier people to choose from... People who didn't have these hangups or need special accommodations made for them. I think he decided to keep it to himself, for what he felt was both their sakes.

If/When the Commander quietly hooked up with someone else, I think he had a lot of feelings all at once. On the one hand, the person he cared for most was finding some peace in all the craziness. On the other, he wished that particular brand of peace was shared with him. Most of the time there were more important things to worry about, but during downtime, I think it was on his mind a lot.

I think he feels very sheepish about it, but occasionally his jealousy got the better of him and he interrupted Shepard at moments that got too hard to watch on the security cams. He watched the cams around the ship lot, and listened in on all the others a fair bit. I think because he saw himself as being at a remove from most people in a lot of ways, it was easy to justify that to himself. I think he saw it kind of like listening to a podcast or a soap opera or... Nature documentary, almost, or something. He got to know all of them in this way... Parasocially at first, but gradually, socially too. He felt better about trying, because he had this secret edge. Not the greatest stuff he's ever done, but... Complete person. Strengths and flaws.

And then, the unthinkable happened. He couldn't accept that the ship was dying. He was sure he could save it... But when Shepard's hand touched his shoulder, when s/he'd come back for him, he knew it was over. And then, it really was over. Shepard paid the price for his arrogance. The person he wanted to protect the most spun off out into space. The communicator between his mask and that helmet was still in range for long enough that he could hear the choking. For a long time afterward, even hearing people cough made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The Alliance grounded him. I don't think he even had the capacity to be mad about it. I think that was a hard time for Jeff. I think between being burdened with the knowledge of the Reapers, the loss of Shepard, and the weight of his guilt, he was pretty close to the very, very edge when Cerberus knocked on his door and made him a bunch of promises. Pretty sure those promises had nothing to do with leather seats and everything to do with Project Lazarus. I'm very sure that the promise of Shepard coming back is the reason he even let Cerberus pay for the surgeries he agreed to undergo, because I don't think he valued himself much at all at that point. I'm pretty sure it was being ready to help Shepard that he was thinking about when he was learning to walk on his painful legs without crutches for the very first time. When Cerberus offered him a big shiny reset button I think he took it without hesitation because there wasn't anything else to hope for. I think seeing Shepard in the docking bay galvanised him and without ever telling them so, he pledged his life to them even harder than before. I think he told himself that he would support Shepard in every way he could. He would go wherever, do whatever, and when dealing with him, try to give them what he knew they needed; a goddamn break.

So, fast forward again, and now we are here. With all of this in mind... Shepard might have had a dalliance with someone else, or might've been too damaged by their previous love interest on Horizon, or whatever. Either way, I think Jeff saw it as not his business to even dream about that. I think the guilt tore him up every time he looked at Shepard. I think he felt like on some level, he deserved the pain of unrequited feelings which only ever got more intense. If he didn't think himself worthy of it back then, doubly so now. I think during the six months of house arrest, he tried to visit, but the Alliance denied his every attempt. Then the attack on Earth happened.

And so now we have Jeff, who, just like other humans is confused and groping about for a sense of what's up and what's down. Fortunately for him, Shepard is part of that sense of stability. He's just better at hiding it, because avoiding it and telling himself to focus elsewhere is second nature to him by this point. But things are a little different, now. Shepard seems looking around for a connection too. Future days seem short in number and the rulebook less and less important by the minute. Denying it to himself becomes impossible, and even EDI prods him about it. Shepard won't stop being so goddamn nice to him and even responds with things that if he didn't know better, he could interpret as... But then all the old insecurities come rushing back and he's walking on his own damn eggshells again. Fuck it. It's time to admit it. To come clean. S/he has to know.

So he asks. And s/he accepts. He's equal parts thrilled, stunned and terrified. He's even on some level, suspicious. Is s/he setting him up for a fall? Are they angry about his responsibility? What do they want out of this, actually? He hasn't explained what it'd be like. That what they're doubtlessly expecting of him is unrealistic. That he's completely inexperienced. I think at this point, he's a bit pissed off with himself and feeling a lot of dread because he's pretty sure how this is going to go. He realises he's got so caught up in it that he's done things in the wrong order. Damage control. He has to talk with Shepard and explain what s/he should expect from him, because it will be different. Manage expectations because he's had to manage his own. He goes in steeled.

But s/he knows it will be different, it turns out. As ever, Shepard has made no assumptions whatsoever. S/he only wants to get to know him. Wants him for everything he is, and accepts what he is not. It was never an issue for them beyond understanding how to work with it, because he is worthy just as he is, and has worked hard enough. He has to teach them about his limitations, about underestimating and overestimating... But where there's a will, there's a way. Time for a few shared moments of peace before the end of days, and through all the craziness, something feels right at last. He feels safe enough to let Shepard in properly. Thus begins his reassessment of himself and reckoning with letting go of the insecurities he has that aren't actually his own, but come from outside.

Also he totally gets to sext the Commander now when s/he's on missions. Nice.

So. There's a lot more I could say and expound upon but it's been hours and I have stuff to do. That's my direction. It's not going to suit everyone, and I doubt I can get everything across... But I'll try. I'm just one person, with just one perspective, with just one version of this story. But I hope people like what I come up with surrounding this framework, because I have lived a lot of it myself. Just a few less Reapers in my version. Not everyone's experiences and responses will be the same.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Ultimatum”

Welcome back, everyone! We had an unexpected break last week due to the horror going on in Texas. I'm glad we did. Not because of any salty "RWBY is bad right now yay free Saturday" feelings, but because keeping to a schedule for a fictional webseries should never take precedence over peoples' safety. I can't believe I need to type that sentence out, but it's true! Over the last seven days I've seen fans who are not merely disappointed by the mini hiatus (understandable) but outright hostile towards the crew because they... were ensuring everyone survived during an unprecedented emergency? Yeah. Given the highly critical nature of these recaps — including today's! — I want to be clear that my thoughts towards Rooster Teeth's creative choices are distinct from any thoughts about the crew itself, including the most basic forms of compassion like, “I sure hope everyone is okay over there.” In an age where it has become horrifically common to harass creators and even send them death threats over stories, it has likewise become necessary to remind people: Don't do that shit. Never do that shit. If I can teach anyone anything at all, let it be that!

Anyway, dark fandom reminders out of the way, let's dive straight into our delayed episode. It was certainly a doozy. Titled "Ultimatum," we open on a trigger warning for flashing lights. Good on Rooster Teeth for including that, though I do wonder if creators shouldn't be including time stamps as well? Or perhaps a note that you can find those time stamps in the credits, avoiding any (minor) spoilers for everyone else? I'm not photosensitive myself, so I certainly don't mean to speak for that group, but my first thought was, "So how would I watch this episode if I was? Hand on the pause button, hoping I stop fast enough as soon as the lights start?" Hard to do given the surprise nature of the scene. Really, my answer would be, "Wait for the fandom to post warnings of their own, likely including where it happens so I know when to skip" which is perhaps an indication that this information that should be included from the get-go.

But I am glad the warning exists, regardless. The episode itself begins with a shot of Ironwood looking down at the kingdom. He's used his windows as a vantage point since Volume 7, so that's nothing new, but something about this particular shot reminded me of Ozpin, looking down from his tower. I'm sure the response from many would be simply, "Ah yes, the two power hungry dictators watching over their victims," but I think there's a much more nuanced reading here about leaders being expected to fix the literally unfixable and what that responsibility does to an individual. Of course, it's a nuance that is absolutely obliterated by the episode’s end, but the implication existed for a hot second!

Two other soldiers are in the room with Ironwood, reporting that Cinder has helped Watts escape. They try to soften this with news that they still have Jacques in custody, but receive only a, "I don't give a damn about Jacques Schnee." Which, fair. He's pretty useless at this point. It's when Ironwood learns that both Qrow and Robin escaped too that he really gets mad, something his subordinates have been expecting given their scared expressions.

Now, I'm treading lightly here because I realize how this is going to sound given the end of our episode, but I still want to note that outside of that ending... this is a weird take? Just hear me out. Since Volume 7 the show has worked very hard to make Ironwood seem scary and unstable — bad setup for what we end with today — but the problem is that none of it works in context and it certainly doesn't work when compared to other characters' actions. They are literally in the midst of an unwinnable battle and thousands of his people are dying. If the audience wants a human being — who also just lost a limb and was betrayed by half his allies — o remain perfectly poised and polite during that, sorry, but that's not how human beings work. But even beyond this, what’s the message here? Ironwood raises his voice, so does Yang. Ironwood hits his desk, Qrow hits a child. If we're going to examine how Ironwood handles his stress and anger, he often handles it better than many of our heroes. Namely, by continually taking that anger out on inanimate objects. I kept waiting for him to attack his subordinates or attack Winter this episode, especially given where we end up, but it never came. Ironwood always has enough control to break the desk or punch the wall, not the person in front of him. Which, of course, would not be a good thing in the real world. I want to be clear given these sensitive subjects that if someone is breaking things in your presence that's a major problem to address. But this isn't the real world. This is a fantasy world in the middle of a war, populated by other characters who express their anger by punching people, slamming them into walls, or screaming at them until they run away. The story wants us to fear Ironwood long before he makes his objectively horrific choices and it tries to achieve that by showing us characters who are clearly terrified in his presence, by giving us a string of broken objects in his wake. But those details don't land well when we compare them to other instances of stress. In the same volume I have watched Ironwood take a deep breath to calm himself down when things have gone horribly wrong. I've also watched Weiss start a conversation by threatening her defenseless brother. So again, what’s the message here? It can’t be that acting violently towards someone = villainous behavior because, as established since Volume 6, that’s common for the heroes. Why are these subordinates terrified about Ironwood slamming his fist on a table, but Whitley has no problem hugging the woman who threatened him? Obviously there is a HUGE difference between our main group and Ironwood when it comes to other actions (cough-bomb threats-cough), but these day-to-day moments don't match up. The show wants to use violence as a way for us to easily identify the Bad Guy while ignoring all the times when our heroes do the same thing. 

All of which isn't meant to be a defense of Ironwood. As we'll see in a bit, there is no defense for what he's done. Rather, it's a way of acknowledging just how badly he's been written. Why does a man who consistently reins in his anger and takes it out on objects suddenly shoot a councilman for literally no reason? Why does a man defined by wanting to save as many people as he can suddenly threaten to bomb his city? Ironwood's characterization is all over the place, in the sense that they keep writing him as the morally gray, sometimes harsh, but ultimately compassionate man he started out as... up until they need a villain. Salem isn't here yet, so Ironwood can shoot Oscar. Salem isn't attacking yet, so Ironwood can shoot the councilman. Salem is currently reforming, so Ironwood can threaten YJR and Mantle. He's the B-plot villain whenever Salem is out of commission, which is a problem for both their characterizations. This filler doesn't make sense for Ironwood and it severely undermines the threat of Salem. You finally introduce the Magical Big Bad and our heroes are facing more of a threat from a guy with a broken army and three loyal allies left? Hmmm.

The tl;dr is that Ironwood's arc is a disaster and, frankly, it's gotten old reading simplified takes of, "It's just a realistic look at what white U.S. men will do in power sweetie :) " RWBY does not have the context capable of conveying that sort of critical take because our world is not besieged by literal monsters and an immortal witch, to say nothing of how real life good guys do not get deus ex machina canes that fix the problem instantaneously. Ironwood is not an example of anti-U.S. imperialism, he's an example of writers who don't know how to write.

Anyway, I'm getting severely off topic. Obviously Ironwood is a major part of this episode, but the problems demonstrated here are two years in the making. This is the culmination of things I've been discussing for months across hundreds of posts... so I should probably stop trying to summarize it all in a few paragraphs lol. Perhaps when RWBY is over — or Ironwood has died — I'll do a single meta on his character, try to pull everything into one, unified argument.

For now though, we have an episode to analyze.

While Ironwood is receiving this news we get flashbacks to Qrow and Robyn. Qrow attacks a soldier in his bird form, which is hilarious. Someone GIF that please. It does raise some interesting questions about this magic though: does Qrow retain his aura and strength in this form (something I thought given his choice to transform during the explosion), or was that soldier just so shocked at being attacked by a crow that he went down easy? We'll never know, because that would require establishing concrete rules for this world. The point is Qrow is going feral in his freedom, throwing punches left and right — did he kill that guard? — while Robyn watches it all from under a rock. They're apparently still somewhere in the facility since all the exits are guarded, but that's not the good thing Ironwood seems to think it is. After all, Qrow is out to murder him. He wants to be there.

We all see where this is going, right? The show is going to ignore Qrow's crazy belief that Ironwood got Clover killed in favor of a "Qrow saved Mantle by murdering Ironwood"/“Qrow got revenge for Mantle by murdering Ironwood” ending. Who cares why Qrow wanted to kill him in the first place now that Ironwood has his finger on the trigger? If RWBY is good at anything, it's writing moments that encourage you to ignore everything that came before it. We'll be seeing more of that in just a bit.

"Damn it!" Ironwood yells, because the show is leaning into its cursing. He orders that the subordinates not return until "you have Qrow Branwen in custody." Here we have another great example of the show conflating what the audience knows with what other characters know. See, we know Qrow has a vendetta against Ironwood. We know their relationship is the important one to the story and that Robyn is incidental. Ironwood doesn't know that. There's no reason for him, as a character, to specify that they only bring Qrow back, but it makes sense for the audience who has the whole, thematic picture. Our understanding of the situation is influencing Ironwood's dialogue, which is... not great.

This entire scene we've had creepy music to hammer home just how evil Ironwood is. Except, as said, he takes a breath to calm down and the music fades. Instead of flying into a rage, hurting someone, or doing anything the music suggests he might, Ironwood calmly calls in for an update — which is when the explosion hits.

It's MASSIVE, seeming to originate from a lightning strike, which is weird, since it's coming from inside the whale, but whatever. The animation is very dramatic and pretty, as we've come to expect of RWBY, but the actual plot is lackluster at best. It's funny though because I thought for a hot second, when Winter and the Ace Ops were caught in the blast, that RWBY had actually done something exciting. I mean, holy shit! There are the deaths we expect from a battle like this. My god, what is everyone going to do when they realize that Oscar's needless attack took out five characters, including Weiss' sister —

No wait, never mind. They're fine.

Let's talk about that "needless" descriptor for a moment though. Do you all remember, two weeks ago, when I went, "Hey, why isn't anyone telling Oscar that that Ace Ops are approaching with a bomb? They're on a time limit! If someone would just mention that Very Important Information then Oscar wouldn't keep standing around to fight Salem." See, at the time I was frustrated because of how the plot was needlessly allowing Oscar to put himself in danger (especially when the whole point of this mission was to rescue him). Now, I'm frustrated because that same plot needlessly wasted the most powerful weapon the group had. There was no reason for Oscar to use literal lifetimes worth of stored energy when the heroes already had a bomb to do the same job! What was the point of that? I guess he took out the other grimm too, but without the whale that still would have been a challenge with a finite end, one Ironwood's army and the remaining huntsmen should have been able to handle. It doesn't feel justified to have Oscar use a weapon kept on the bench for lifetimes when there was another option literally minutes away.

There's so much wrong with this I need another list. So:

Ozpin's cane supposedly stores kinetic energy, which may contradict what we've seen from it before. Regardless, we’ve never heard about this. The all powerful weapon comes out of nowhere

It also begs the question of why Ozpin wouldn't use that power at Beacon and why he wouldn't insist that they try to get their cane back while captured. You had an out this whole time! But we’re going to ignore that because Oscar is a little hesitant? 

Which makes YJR's presence even more useless than it originally was, which was already pretty useless. Oscar essentially rescued himself

This kinetic energy miraculously doesn't hurt any people or buildings, just grimm

So what is the point of Silver Eyes? That's been their MO since they were first introduced. Sure, Silver Eyes can be used far more often than Ozpin's cane, but it still feels like a let down to learn that the Big Secret behind this weapon is... the exact same thing Ruby has been doing for years

Like Ruby, Oscar likewise didn't need any practice or training. He just set off this massive attack perfectly and without issue

We have now eliminated the biggest threat to the cast instantaneously — the whale and the other grimm — with no effort from the rest of the heroes. Like the Hound, the stakes are obliterated with no satisfying work on the part of our protagonists 

Instead, as said, the actual plan already in place never happened. The bomb just... goes back. Kind of like how Cinder attacked and then just went back to Salem. Penny woke up and then just got knocked out again. We continue to go in circles 

This is because no one took two seconds to tell Oscar, "There's a bomb on the way"

Because this threat is gone the show needs a new one, hence Ironwood randomly threatening Mantle with said bomb

The one way we might have justified Oscar blowing up the whale instead of Winter is if he did it to save Hazel, but Hazel is implied to be dead

Maybe he's alive, but if he's not that happened off screen and we're not sure how. It couldn't have been because of the blast itself — everyone else is fine — so what, Salem somehow killed him before she was blasted to bits? While he was holding her? 

And there's no body?

Salem was torn apart multiple times during that fight and reformed instantaneously, yet now, conveniently, she's taking her time

None of the characters mention the issues above. None of them admit that there was no reason for Oscar to waste LIFETIMES worth of power when they already had a solution in the works. Fantastic

I need to take a moment to acknowledge that so far this recap feels... bad. Disjointed. Bit all over the place. Which makes a certain amount of sense because that's where my thoughts are at. There's so much going on in this episode — so much wrong with it — that I don't know how to boil it all down into a few, neat claims. This episode is a mess! We're barely a few minutes in and the combined issues of Ironwood's characterization and Oscar's choice have left me reeling. So if you're still reading this, bless your patience, I think we'll both need it for the rest of this journey.

Let's snag a neater plot-point to discuss. Amidst all the chaos Neo literally skips away with the Lamp, clearly thrilled at how her own life is going. Later in the episode she'll text Cinder with the obvious: Salem is going to be pretty pissed when she realizes this is gone. “If you want her name you know what you owe me." 

So wait... what is Neo leveraging here? Is she agreeing to give the Lamp back so Cinder doesn't get in trouble with Salem? Give Salem the password she's been looking for? Or give Cinder the password to use the Lamp for herself? What would Cinder even want the Lamp for when she's after the Maiden powers? I'm confused about what Cinder is being blackmailed with. Regardless, she needs the lamp for something and presumably what she "owes" Neo is Ruby. We get a cut to her just to hammer that home.

(Side note: both pictures of Neo are hilarious.) 

Before that though, back at the whale, everyone is taking stock of the situation when Marrow cries, "Hey, they were still in there!" I feel like this is another scene meant to make him look like the one good guy in the group — he cares about YJOR while the others can’t be bothered — but as always, that reading doesn't fit well with the situation as a whole. The others have barely had time to realize they're alive. I don't think it's a moral failing that they didn't instinctually worry about four betrayers, one of whom attacked them, while they're still checking that they have all their limbs intact. Besides, why does Marrow assume they're dead? The Ace Ops were caught in the blast as well, yet miraculously came out unharmed. They clearly didn't set their own bomb off, so it's logical to assume that YJOR did something themselves. It feels weird to have a "Marrow mourns them and Winter is the only other character who cares" moment when everyone is recovering from bomb shock and no one even knows if the others are dead. But, of course, the show is out to portray only two of these characters as good people, so ignore the logic and run with the emotion of the scene.

All of which is bolstered by Elm pulling away when Vine puts a hand on her shoulder. Why is she acting cold towards him now? Because they're not friends, remember?

While we get more ridiculous relationship dynamics, Ironwood calls in and congratulates them on the bomb working, but tells them to get back because they have another problem in the works. That would be Qrow and Robyn. Winter decides to tell him about the bomb in person.

We cut to Watts and Cinder watching the remnants of the blast from a rooftop. Cinder has tried calling, but no one answered. Unsurprising, given that Salem doesn't have any other allies left. Cinder says that the plan hasn't changed, she's still going to take the Winter Maiden's power for herself, and Watts can help her by bringing Penny here. He explains that he doesn't have full control over her. Rather, he implemented a virus that is setting her on a single path: open the vault, then self-destruct. Cinder, as one might expect, is furious.

She snags Watts by her grimm arm and threatens to toss him over the side of the building. Thus begins the best part of the episode, hands down. Despite the danger he's in, Watts throws common sense out the window in favor of dragging Cinder in the most satisfying manner possible. 

“You think you’re entitled to everything just because you suffered, but suffering isn’t enough. You can’t just be strong, you have to be smart. You can’t just be deserving, you have to be worthy! But all you have ever been is a bloody migraine!”

It's true! You know what else is true? This speech could apply to our heroes as well. Accusations of entitlement and reminders to be smart as opposed to just strong hit hard, considering those are the same flaws our protagonists are struggling with. The difference is that Cinder, miraculously, listens, pulling Watts back to safety and going to cry by herself. That moment is simultaneously more growth than Ruby has gotten and more sympathy than Ironwood has gotten. The woman who murdered Pyrrha is treated more kindly by the narrative than one of our initial heroes and our very first villain has taken more time to reconsider her choices than our title character. You know a show is falling apart when excellent choices are applied to the worst possible character.

So Cinder is crying while Watts looks guilty and we cut back to YJOR's group post-blast. Yang is finally able to answer a call from Blake who is obviously overjoyed to see her. Weiss gives them directions to the mansion and they ask what in the world they'll do with Emerald, currently on her knees, mourning Hazel.

Thus begins the third most frustrating part of this episode. See, on the way back the group continues the conversation about what to do with Emerald, with Yang and Jaune distrusting her vs. Ren and Oscar encouraging cooperation. I can't believe I'm saying this after's Ren's speech and Oscar's entire existence... but I'm team Jaune and Yang here. Look, what Oscar and Ren say — the literal words coming out of their mouth — is nonsense. Ren goes, “We can’t let all of our actions stem from fear," as if Yang and Jaune are being ridiculous for mistrusting Emerald, one of the established villains, after years worth of harm from her. It’s weird that Yang points to her arm as something Emerald is responsible for, rather than being framed or the deaths at Beacon, but the general sentiment of, “She’s done horrible things!” is true. Ren’s perspective is the same simplification that was applied to Ironwood last volume, wherein everyone acted as if he was crazy for fearing an attack on his kingdom... post an attack on another kingdom and pre an attack on his kingdom. Putting generic lines in Ren's mouth about not being afraid makes him sound willfully ignorant, as if choosing to believe that someone is good will magically make them so, to say nothing of thinking it will erase all the harm they've already done.

Oscar at least acknowledges the difficulty here, but then follows this up with, “You don’t have to forgive her… just give her a second chance."

Oscar, honey, that amounts to the same thing in this situation. Allowing Emerald a second chance means working with her, which means trust, which means emotionally reaching a point where these characters can put aside the harm she's done them in an effort to give her that chance in the first place. This actually ties into a post I saw last night, one I've come across before, that claims redemption arcs don't require any suffering on the part of the person who has done wrong. I agree in theory, that prolonged suffering doesn't help anyone, but the problem is that people tend to conflate suffering with consequences and someone who has done this level of harm should face consequences for their actions. The problem with redemption arcs is not that the bad people suffer too much —  emotionally and physically beating on them as a form of revenge  — but that the people they've harmed are put into situations like this one. If Yang and Jaune let Emerald go like she suggests, they are agreeing that she doesn't have to face any consequences for the damage she's done (which, keep in mind, involves multiple deaths, not including all the lost lives here in Atlas). If they agree to give her a second chance, they are forced to jump straight to some level of forgiveness. We might claim they don't have to forgive Emerald to work with her, but from a practical perspective how are they meant to function, especially during a warzone? Anything she provides them with — information, watching their back in a fight, undertaking missions, etc.  — requires trusting her enough to allow those things to happen: working with that info, letting her protect them, allowing her that responsibility. It's all about trust, trust she has yet to earn. In order for a redemption arc to be successful, the power has to be in the hands of the victims. They need to be able to see some justice for what was done to them, be offered some proof that the person in question has truly changed, and have the ability to walk away if they decide no, I don't forgive you, glad to hear you've improved, but please stay out of my life. Jaune and Yang have none of that. There are currently no systems in place for Emerald to face consequences for her choices, she has offered them no proof of her remorse or true motivations, and the other half of the group is pressuring them to give her that second chance without closure or reassurance. None of that makes for a good redemption arc and reducing that to, "So you want to see poor Emerald suffer, huh?" ignores the suffering she has already caused. The group are her victims and they are under no obligation to give her a second chance, particularly under these circumstances, which makes the story's choice to have Ren and Oscar act like Yang and Jaune are being stubborn or inconsiderate a problem. The conversation boils down to, "Give the woman you know to be a liar, manipulator, murder accomplice, and servant of our enemy a second chance based entirely on unfounded faith. If you don't you're letting yourself be ruled by fear."

RWBY's touchy-feely themes really don't sit well within its realistic, morally gray premise. We cannot continually have these characters go through hell one moment and then have others accuse them of being paranoid the next. The fact that all of this is wrapped up in the group trusting Robyn, Emerald, and Hazel over their established allies remains beyond frustrating.

Because yeah, you know how Oscar finishes his speech? “I’ve already gotten a lot of help today from someone I don’t exactly trust right now." Meaning Ozpin.

The story is trying to compare Emerald and Hazel to Ozpin.

"Oh hey, I kept a secret from you after lifetimes of watching that secret lead to betrayal and death. I keep apologizing for my mistakes while ignoring that I had no reason to trust a bunch of kids with such world-shattering information and also that you tore it from me in the most traumatic way possible."

"Oh hey, I willingly joined our world's version of the devil and helped her destroy your school, leading to numerous deaths including your friend and headmaster. It was his death that put Oscar in this position in the first place! I then continued to attack your group, leading to another near death of a friend, and a kidnapping, and the destruction of Amity, until I became scared enough to make a run for it."

Which one of these characters is granted an instant second chance? You'll never guess who!

And I do think the word "instant" is important here because just like Jaune and Yang have the right to have distance and justice from Emerald, they had that right with Ozpin too. The difference is they got it. They had the power in the situation, as evidenced by their use of the Lamp and physically attacking him. Ozpin heard what they needed from him — leave us alone — and did that without complaint. They were given months to come to terms with the secrets he kept. They were offered apologies and acts of service to demonstrate intent: saving them in the airship and continually saving Oscar. I don't believe Ozpin ever needed a redemption arc, but even if we think he did, he had it. After three volumes of material Oscar's perspective is still "I don't exactly trust [him] right now" but Hazel and Emerald have earned at least the same amount of trust in a matter of hours? They're really having my boy look at the guy who has tried desperately to do right by him despite unimaginable circumstances, and the guy who tortured him to get information for Salem, and went, "That first guy. He's the one we need to watch out for."

To make things even worse, Oscar tells the others that Ozpin took on all the torture so he wouldn't have to. So he did that and they still don't trust him? If you had told me back in Volume 6 that two years later the group would still be hostile towards Ozpin, while simultaneously urging one another to trust Emerald, I would have said you were lying. RWBY has its problems, but it's not that bad. Yet here we are. I suppose the one silver lining here is that Ren smiles when he realizes Ozpin is back? So at least one of them isn't prepared to draw their weapon at the mere mention of his name.

Both these moments raise more questions though. How in the world did Ozpin take on that torture when we clearly saw Oscar getting pummeled for a good portion of the kidnapping? Is that a weird merge thing the story hasn't bothered to explain? I wouldn't be surprised, considering Oscar said last episode he didn't want to use magic because it hastened the merge, he uses the biggest explosion of magic we've ever seen, and nothing has changed. Ozpin is still in the back of his head, thanking him for the tinniest shreds of decency they get. Ren, meanwhile, seems to be back to mindreading. How in the world does he know that Ozpin is back? I assume it has something to do with his semblance, but we don't know what. They could have shown us Oscar from Ren's perspective, perhaps with two distinct emotions swilling around to imply that he sees two different people now, not a useless shot of Emerald with purple flower petals, whatever purple means.

Oh, but no, we shouldn't have gotten either of these scenes. Remember that Ren's aura broke a very, very short time ago? Is it back already? Can he use this part of his semblance without it? Considering it was near impossible to see Ironwood's aura breaking in the Watts fight and we were then mistakenly told he used his semblance in the office, I'm going to go with, "The writers forgot."

Oscar explains that the cane had "lifetime after lifetime" of power in it and though there's still some left, "we have to be careful with how we use the rest." He says that Ozpin trusted his judgement and of course he did! Ozpin also didn’t know that there was a bomb on the way. Yet funnily enough, no one else mentions that, whoops, your choice made in ignorance was a waste and that's due entirely to us prioritizing hugs over basic mission information.

Also, all these explanations take place in front of Emerald. Half the group doesn't trust her, but they'll freely discuss their powers and limitations here. Remember how the group once wanted to talk about magical relics in front of the old lady they'd just met? Yeah, they've learned nothing.

Combine all this insanity with the fact that Ozpin's magic saved the day before Ironwood's bomb could do the same... while Ruby sat in a mansion drinking tea. Who's our hero again?

So things are a hot mess, to put it lightly. Their conversation finally ends when they hear voices and round the corner to find all the Atlas citizens huddled in the subway. For once the show actually writes them in a sympathetic manner, emphasizing how terrified and helpless they are. This image doesn't lead the group to any revelations though, certainly not anything that would tie back to Ren's earlier speech in the snow. No, once again the justified criticisms here are ignored as we hear that “However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you, [Emerald.]” That's it then. Discussion over. We knew as soon as it started that blindly trusting her was being presented as the "right" thing to do and now here we are, deciding that conclusively, despite Jaune and Yang's complaints. By the time the group reaches the mansion, Oscar is defending Emerald from Ruby. We're supposed to just accept that she's a part of the group now, only minimal pushback allowed.

Before that though we return to Ironwood getting news that their bomb never went off. He briefly wonders who else could have done that, but puts the currently unanswerable question aside for what he does know. They still have the bomb and it could be "useful." See, this moment — like shooting Oscar and the councilman — is when Ironwood just randomly goes off the deep end. One minute he's talking about what they've lost and cradling his new arm, 

the next he's saying that he should have tortured Qrow to get Penny to obey him! Which doesn't even make sense since I'm pretty sure Penny hasn't ever spoken to Qrow. She wouldn't want anyone to suffer, true, but it's not like Ironwood had a close friend like Ruby to use as leverage. Qrow is just Some Guy to her. Regardless, he thinks Yang, Jaune, and Ren are decent replacements, despite Penny also having no relationships with them. This is what happens when your characters only start breaking up their teams eight years into the story, the response to Ironwood wanting to torture Ren to hurt Penny is, “Does Penny know Ren exists?” But, you know, torture is torture, right? Maybe. Probably not. I mean, if they're going to turn Ironwood into a cartoon villain, they could at least keep him smart.

Because all of this is just the height of stupidity. Ironwood wants to torture people Penny barely knows to make her listen (so just grab some civilians? It would do the same job...). Ironwood wants to shoot down empty ships, even though no one, including us, knows where in the world those ships would have gone. Ironwood wants to destroy an entire city to try and save another city. He wants to use a bomb meant for a comparatively small whale and acts like that alone will take out the majority of a kingdom. None of it makes sense! And I know the easy comeback for that is, "Well yeah, Ironwood is crazy and evil" but he's not. I mean he is. Threatening torture and bombings is obviously evil, but he's never been insane, or stupid. As said before, his arc (or lack thereof) is an absolute disaster. The fandom assumes so many things about Ironwood given the opportunity — the whale is a suicide mission. He expects the Ace Ops to die on his order — and the writing hints at so many things that never happen — he's going to hurt his subordinates, attack Winter for disobeying him — and every time what we actually get is a far more compassionate, level-headed character... until he randomly does a 180 and goes, "Let's murder a whole city now!" I never wanted Ironwood to be the bad guy, but they could have at least given me a persuasive decent into this level of horror.

So... yeah. Ironwood has got to die by the end of the volume, yeah? Between Ruby warning the whole world about him and him going into full villain mode, there's no coming back from this.

Neo sends her text to Cinder and the group makes it back to the mansion. Remember Yang's criticisms of Ruby's leadership? The ones she conveniently forgot about when Ren started to agree with her? Yeah, those are entirely gone as the sisters hug it out and, presumably, forgive one another for... daring to admit that things are bad? Look, I'm not going to deny that Ironwood's scene with Winter was creepy as fuck, 

but I'm not of the opinion that the heroes are any better when it comes to the theme of obedience. They've attacked one another, screamed at one another, and any dissent from Ruby's leadership results in the questioner being left behind in the snow. We'll accept you again when you fall back in line. I used to adore the relationships in this show, but watching them now is just discomforting. The show might be 100% more obvious with Ironwood, using creepy music, a smile, and that hand on Winter's shoulder, but the concept of, "Sorry I dared to question you before! We won't ever do it again :)" isn't healthy either. The fact that the show keeps erasing theses problems with hugs — Weiss hugs Whitley now, Yang hugs Ruby, someone will probably hug Emerald soon — doesn't make the circumstances any less uncomfortable.

None of this even gets into the Blake and Yang hug. First of all, why is Blake acting like they had a fight and Yang might not want to see her? She's hiding inside rather than rushing to greet them, ears down in a devastated expression until Yang touches her. Combine this with Yang's "Do you think she's mad at me?" and it feels like the writers cut a fight in the final script and then didn't bother to remove the fallout from that. Seriously, where did any of this come from? You can't just have characters act like they've been fighting when they haven’t.

Also, can't forget this.

At this point there's nothing more I can say in regards to RWBY's almost-queer baiting. Is touching foreheads more intimate than the hugs Yang gave the others? Absolutely. Is that an appropriate stand-in for overt representation? Absolutely not. This would have been a perfect time for them to kiss. Take out Blake's nonsensical fear and replace it with them both reuniting after their first separation since Volume 5, working under the knowledge that either one could have been killed, finally admitting their feelings. Hell, they don't actually have to kiss. Not all girlfriends are interested in kissing! But they could use the terminology that makes things unequivocally canon.  Another forehead touch when we got that in Volume 6? It's not enough, especially not when our straight couples have all been allowed their rep.

Ren at least wants to know where Nora is. He's presumably told what happened off screen as Oscar tells Ruby that Emerald is their friend now.

Then an emergency call from May interrupts the reunion and the group learns that Ironwood is bombing the Schnee ships. “Those ships… they were going to save people” Weiss whispers. How? Tell me how they were going to save anyone. Where were you going to take these people where they would be safer than where they are now? RWBY continually asserts things without explaining them, meaning there is precisely zero emotional weight here. Again, Ironwood is far past the point of defense, but I'd be a whole lot more critical of this particular action if I had a better sense of why it's bad. He appears to be endangering the people given May's shout to run — falling debris? — but the further implication is that Ironwood has doomed the people of Mantle by denying them these ships. It's that part that makes no sense based on what we've been told.

Which finally comes to the ultimatum of our episode title: Penny opens the vault, or Ironwood bombs Mantle. Great! So glad this plan is wicked smart and works well for his characterization. It's definitely not a nonsensical, unfounded, overblown change that feels like it belongs in a child's cartoon, complete with dramatic spotlight. Nope. Excellent writing choices all around.

Our final line of the episode is, “I hope you live up to the title I gave you," referring to Penny's job as the Protector of Mantle, and you know what? That line could have been very cool if it was delivered by an Ironwood with a persuasive fall and a halfway decent plan in place. I love that we've twisted the concept of a protector and turned the title into a horrifying, rather than honorable responsibility... I just hate everything surrounding those details. 

So, usual RWBY fare.

(At least we get to see that Nora is awake!) 

Will things get better over the next four episodes? I doubt it. We're still expecting the rest of the Ace Ops + Winter to ditch Ironwood, someone getting the vault open, the fall of Atlas, now the potential destruction of Mantle, and none of that includes Salem who should reform at any moment. Frankly, I'm not looking forward to any of it. The final leg of a season should make its audience excited to see how everything turns out, not dreading it. I've heard from multiple people that this is the volume that finally got them to drop the show and honestly? I'm not surprised.

As a final (happier?) note: we've finally got a bingo! I completely forgot our board last time, which was a terrible oversight, but we can update it now.

Our army of grimm can't kill anyone now that it got KOed by Oscar (that is the third one hit defeat of a major enemy we've seen this volume. Yes, I'm including the Hound considering it was obviously on its last legs after Ruby's eyes.)

I'm likewise including "Ozpin apologizes for everything including his existence" because he's done nothing but apologize since he came back. The emotion is there even if the literal words are not. Oscar reminded everyone of how untrustworthy he is, but kept the group from jumping them again. And Ozpin thanked him for it.

Neo didn't literally backstab Cinder (shame), but the Relic still counts.

So a triple bingo! Is that how bingo works? Idk, I've never played. I feel like I should have thought up some sort of humorous prize, but sadly I've got nothing. If you think of anything, let me know lol

That’s all then, folks. Until next week! 💜

[musicallisto]

Hi Clara!! Congratulations on 800 followers again!! (also I was looking through your blog and we have the same birthday!! 🥳) I was wondering if I could please have a male Bridgerton ship? I’m an ENFJ, libra, and Hufflepuff if that helps at all. I can be a bit introverted a times but I’m usually a pretty outgoing, kind, and optimistic person! (although I can be a bit sensitive at times lol) Currently I’m studying to be a teacher. My friends/family are very important to me, and I will always try my best to help them it whatever ways I can. As for some things I enjoy, I love to read and write, as well as spend all day watching movies. I’m also interested in signing, acting, etc. and making things with my hands (ie. knitting, embroidery). Thank you so much in advance!! 💛

hiii birthday twin!! <3 you seem like the most fantastic person ever, I love your personality - and your writing, but it goes without saying. I hope you like your vanilla milkshake, but don’t get caught sipping on it unchaperoned with benedict bridgerton, that would be quite the scandal...

Now, was I influenced by your profile picture? Probably. But even without it, you’d be perfect for each other, and let me tell you the story of you both.

For your first society outings, and following your debutante ball, you became the talk of all London. Sure, you were praised far and wide for your beauty, but there was something else, ineffable and far more tender, that caused your name to linger on most gentlemen’s lips.

It was your first season, and yet you had already shown a mesmerizing elegance and poise, as well as an acute optimism and enthusiasm, making your conversation all the more enjoyable to all those you encountered.

Benedict had noticed you on your first ball, when whispers of your name and your every move had spread among the crowd like wildfire, and he had to admit that you were radiant, and your warm and welcoming smile gave you beauty like no other, but bright eyes and rosy cheeks were legion this side of London, and he knew the superficiality of these pretty little faces all too well. He wasn’t intrigued enough to start up a conversation or ask you to dance, and imagined you would be married in a matter of weeks.

But as time went on, and you apparently gracefully declined each proposal you received, Benedict couldn’t help growing a little bit more captivated each time he heard your name. What could you possibly waiting for? You’d had dashing young men bring you presents, you’d had the wealthiest nobles serenade you with flowers and compare you to a summer’s day; you’d had sonnets and promenades and bouquets and jewelry... and yet you had rejected them all, but not out of malice, still with this grace that everyone knew you to have.

Perhaps, and it was a little pretentious of him to dare entertain the thought, but it pleased a small part of his soul nonetheless, perhaps what you were waiting for was a portrait.

Eventually, after having theorized for days about what could possibly prompt such unambiguous refusals from a lady who seemed to have plethora of choice, Lady Whistledown must have deemed your situation to be less worthy of attention, because not scandalous enough, and you, like most other trends and fashions in that everchanging society, became an old tale before you’d even reached your prime.

But paradoxically, exactly when you were no longer the subject of Whistledown’s tittle-tattle, were you the most intriguing to Benedict.

It was then that he finally asked you to dance, under the watchful (and, though she did not show it, agreeably surprised) gaze of Lady Violet Bridgerton.

“You look positively radiant, lady Y/L/N. Your gown is exquisite.”

And he immediately regretted every single word that he had just said; he sounded just like those boring Lords you had rejected one after the other; but he meant it, he truly meant it, for he was just then seeing the hues in your eyes and in your smile, all those colors like those of a vibrant landscape...

If there ever was a time to show the depths of his soul, it was then; but he had always been good at avoiding conversation, not prompting it.

Still, you didn’t drop your beaming smile, and answered with a slight blush.

“Thank you, my lord. It is... oh, you will think it’s silly.”

“Not at all, I promise.”

“You see, you are the first to say that. Other lords have reproached its simplicity, but I am rather fond of it, because I sewed it myself.”

“Really? That’s impressive!”

He found he had little trouble continuing with the conversation after that, because you were so easy to talk to, so understanding of everything he said and so enthralling to get to know. You were creative and great with your hands, an artist, just like him, and it was the first of many things he would love about you.

“Tell me, lord Bridgerton... I have heard that you are quite the artist yourself.”

“Oh, that’s a gross exaggeration, they are but half-good sketches, nothing of interest, truly...”

Yet as he danced the night away with you, he felt as though a new blood surged through his veins, ready to craft the most beautiful pieces the world had ever seen, if only they could resemble the colors of your face.

“Well, I would love to see these half-good sketches someday, if you allow. I am sure they are brilliant.”

You had never seen a lord blush before, especially not a Bridgerton. It made your heart soar like it had rarely before.

“If you so wish. I couldn’t possibly refuse a lady.”

All along the ride back home, Benedict has the hugest, silliest grin on his face as he looks wistfully at the night sky.

“If it is what it takes to see my beloved brother swoon like a simpleton, then I will come to society balls more often.”

“Eloise, do not talk of your brother like that!”

But she’s right - it only took one night for him to be completely enraptured by you. He understands what they all meant when they couldn’t keep your name out of their mouths, when they said you were delightful and spirited... but they all hurried with their proposals, without getting to know you first, without listening to you, without discovering the depths of your character, and it’s all he wants all he can think about.

The next morning, he’s at your doorstep with a bouquet, and, of course, tightly wrapped inside it so as to not draw suspicion, a few of his sketches, ones that he drew the evening prior because his mind was too restless to sleep.

And thus begins a long period of courtship that has all of London in a frenzy. Surely no one expected the second eldest Bridgerton and the former diamond to have an affinity for each other. Truly no one.

“My Benedict has his heart set on an accomplished lady, a beautiful and clever one at that - this truly is the season of surprises! All a fulfilled mother would need now is for your brother to be the next to mend his ways...”

“And all his brother would need now, mother, is an escape from this interminable paperwork, but alas.”

You can often be seen promenading together in Hyde Park - you enjoy the company of the squirrels and the geese as much as he loves taking in the sceneries to later paint them.

“Y/N, pardon me if it is too bold of me to ask, but why are you not engaged yet? Surely you must have had a plethora of charming young men propose to you...”

“Handsome they were, but hardly charming. Oh, they all had plenty of qualities... an estate by the sea, a racing stable with twenty horses, a spot in the throne succession... but, oh, I care little if this is unbecoming of me to say, they were all so boring! None of them had half the charm that you have. The hours fly by when I am with you, Benedict, and I am entirely truthful when I say I have never felt as content as I feel with you.”

Everyone is London is awaiting the moment they’ll see you with a ring on that finger, but it seems to never come; yet everything is idyllic and your courtship and, beyond that, in your friendship, and he sincerely knows that he is irrevocably and utterly in love with you. But he just doesn’t dare ask.

To the point that Benedict’s entourage give him signals that it is now or never. Even Anthony, though with varying success.

“If you don’t propose to Lady Y/L/N, brother, I will.”

(And no one believed that.)

“Fine, I will, then!”

“Eloise!”

But what he has with you is so special that he’s terrified of rushing things. What if you are not ready, what if he is not as interesting, just as boring as the other men you turned down? What if he read everything wrong? What if...

Until he shoots his shot. It’s not nearly as romantic as he expected, because he fumbles over his words a few times and almost drops the ring in the Hyde Park lake...

... but given the enthusiasm with which you nod and embrace him - not caring about the passerby’s judging gazes -, he’s not sure why he agonized over it so much.

It’s self-evident that your love story is one for the ages.

800 follower sleepover