#but in this instance i believe it is warranted

[tawaifeddiediaz]

@ the anons in my inbox, im not going to reply to each of your incomprehensible, frankly stupid as frick messages individually, so here:

my post did not indicate that i thought eddiemarisol or bucknatalia would be endgame or that i even shipped them - it was a meta based on how these new relationships are different from the old ones from s4, which was the original ask that y’all clearly didn’t read.

we know that they’re not meant to last, but that wasn’t the point of all this. neither was the development cause the only two people we have any cause to be concerned with is how buck and eddie are reacting, and what role being with natalia and marisol will play in their stories - as is the case with any minor character.

you not being able to comprehend that someone can think critically about a situation is not my problem. you not being able to comprehend that someone can ship buddie but still understand the importance of these new relationships is not my problem. you taking everything as a personal attack against your belief/interpretation/ship is also not my problem. you not understanding what a slow burn means is not my problem. 

and above all, y’all not being able to see past your noses at the broader picture is also...you guessed it! not my problem!!

the way i see it, if you can’t come off anon and speak your truth, im not sure you have any business with it in the first place :)) 

[andivmg]

My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

[ririblogsss]

I have found inspiration to write :).

The flash for the fist time in forever stop moving. No twitching. NO moving his leg up and down. No running back and forward to the cafeteria for snacks. He was completely still with his jaw open looking past Batman who at the moment was giving the league members an overview of the missions that have been happening within the past month. Immediately everyone locked in, Flash not moving major red flag. Batman caught it first and proceeded to turn around in a split of a second and froze (caught of guard) this caused the other league members to slowly turn their heads and eyes away from starring at the Flash. And they couldn't believe their eyes.

Superman had his jaw dropped.

Flash was pointing and unable to form words the only sound escaping his mouth was vocals "aa" "ee" he was over all gobsmacked.

Not like the other leagues were fairing any better. It's just that their eyes could not make their brain correctly process what they were seeing. And what they were currently seeing was a teenager with white hair with a box of donuts and drinking something out of a coffee cup. Now this is the watchtower everyone has seen teenagers from various backgrounds to say the least enjoy their coffee and snacks. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that the teen wasn't one of theirs. Not that it really matters Batman.

What actually matters is that the kids outside. IN SPACE. How is he surviving. How isn't he dead? Is he an alien? Then why is the box of donuts from earth?

And the kid has the gull to smile sheepishly?????

---

Danny only wanted help. HE SWEARSS. And the Justice League wasn't helping after they had been spammed with calls for help against the Ghosts. Amity parkers think that the JL has banned them from making calls. So Danny decided if they won't come. He will go to them, but his parents did not raise a disrespectful child the Fentons maybe break tax laws and driving laws and overall all OSHA regulations. BUT THEY NEVER DISRESPECT (unless warranted) ANYBODY. And Danny wasn't about to misrepresent them. So he brought a box of donuts and his fathers homemade fudge in hopes to make some sort of slightly good impression.

So taking a breath in (as a force of habit) he knocked on the watchtowers window and didn't become intangible and go in until Wonder Woman nodded with her head yes.

Batman was side-eying WW, but Danny decided that Wonder Woman had more decision power in this instance.

So with the approval that he may come in Danny made himself (and everything else) intangible so he could enter. Once inside he realize that Jazz had been correct in telling him to at least know how he was going to approach the subject.

He placed the treats on the table and made a gesture that they could eat. He took a sip of his hot ecto and then he opened his mouth.

"Why are you guys hunting us down for sport? w-we are people too"

Danny said it in such a broken voice with teary eyes. He really should have practiced first.

The JL choked.

[genderkoolaid]

Examples of transandrophobia: i've seen sections of Leslie Feinberg's piece "Sisterhood: Make it Real" passed around this site for literally years, and TODAY was the first time that I saw the whole thing and learned that ze called out cisfeminists in it for getting rid of trans men the second they started transitioning. Like I always thought it was a good piece but I had literally NO IDEA that it talked about trans men because that part was never included in posts about it, even when those posts were calling out cisfeminism for being transphobic. I'm just gobsmacked tbh

This is a great point!

Honestly more people need to read that full chapter. There's a lot of really good points.

Amongst other things, Leslie talks about how "women good men bad" is poor feminism:

Of course, as a result of the oppression women face growing up in such a violently anti-woman environment, some women draw a line between women as allies and men as enemies. While it’s understandable that an individual might do so out of fear, this approach fails as theory. It lumps John Brown and John D. Rockefeller together as enemies and Sojourner Truth and Margaret Thatcher together as allies. This view of who to trust and who to dread will not keep women safe or keep the movement on course.

How feminine men are victims of gender oppression:

The oppression of feminine men is an important one to me, since I consider drag queens to be my sisters. I’ve heard women criticize drag queens for “mocking women’s oppression” by imitating femininity to an extreme, just as I’ve been told that I am imitating men. Feminists are justifiably angry at women’s oppression - so am I! I believe, however, that those who denounce drag queens aim their criticism at the wrong people. This misunderstanding doesn’t take gender oppression into account. For instance, to criticize male-to-female drag performers, but leave out a discussion of gender oppression, lumps drag queen RuPaul together with men like actor John Wayne! RuPaul is a victim of gender oppression, as well as of racism.

How masculine women are assumed to know less about gender oppression:

But I grew up very masculine, so the complex and powerful set of skills that feminine girls developed to walk safely through the world were useless to me. I had to learn a very different set of skills, many of them martial. While we both grew up as girls, our experiences were dissimilar because our gender expressions were very different. Masculine girls and women face terrible condemnation and brutality including sexual violence - for crossing the boundary of what is “acceptable” female expression. But masculine women are not assumed to have a very high consciousness about fighting women’s oppression, since we are thought to be imitating men.

And as you said, how trans men deserve access to women's and lesbian's spaces without having their transmasculinity ignored or seen as being butch-in-denial:

And our female-to-male transsexual brothers have a right to feel welcome at women’s movement events or lesbian bars. However, that shouldn’t feed into to misconception that all female-to-male transsexuals were butches who just couldn’t deal with their oppression as lesbians. If that were true, then why does a large percentage of post-transition transsexual men identify as gay and bisexual, which may have placed them in a heterosexual or bisexual status before their transition? There are transsexual men who did help build the women’s and lesbian communities, and still have a large base of friends there. They should enjoy the support of women on their journey. Doesn’t everyone want their friends around them at a time of great change? And women could learn a great deal about what it means to be a man or a woman from sharing the lessons of transition.

Not that "trans women belong in feminism" wouldn't be a good point on its own, but people's selectivity with which parts of that chapter they share definitely warrant scrutiny.

[hyperfixat]

HI!! i have decided on a posting schedule for this fic!! once a month, every month on the 25th, i hope you look forward to it <3 due to someone asking i will have a taglist, so please leave a comment or ask (i won’t post if you ask me not to) to join. any comments or reblogs mean a lot, thank you all for the support i have received.

also, dunno if i mentioned; while the reader is intended to be inclusive toward everyone they are, in the canon of me writing them, bisexual. everything else is up to interpretation

< prev .. next >

** Written PRE 1.5 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcanons.

The Astral Express decides to stop at the Xianzhou Luofu first, then wrap things up on Jarilo VI. According to Pompom the train’s warp is near instant, so they won’t set for take off until the early hours of tomorrow.

Due to them being the first to offer, that night you spend in Caelus’ room. It’s pretty bare bones, an uneven mix of Dan Heng literally living in the archives and March 7th’s tasteful over decoration.

They offer their bed to you, willing to sleep on their relaxing-chair, but Caelus is the proud owner of a queen size bed. Long story short, their bed is large enough to share, and you do.

Initially you had fallen asleep on separate ends, but throughout the night, you migrated closer, making it so that when you crack your dry eyes open as the lights at Herta’s station turn on for the day, you’re greeted with front row seats to Caelus’ face.

After the initial fluster of emotions, you calm your body and mind and get ready to seize the day.

“So who, here, are we gathering up, again?” March questions you merrily, holding a hand out to help you off the express and onto the landing port.

“I hope everyone will still be here,” you muse, basking in the cool air of the flagship. “Will the Stellaron Hunters be here, you think?”

“Probably,” Dan Heng affirms, moving to stand next to you. You glance at him and smile.

“There’s Jing Yuan, Loucha, Fu Xuan, Bailu, Yukong,” you briefly consider mentioning Jinglui or Tingyun, but decide against it. “Yanqing, and of course Blade, Kafka, and Silver Wolf.”

“I doubt Silver Wolf will be here in person,” Caelus nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her not as one of her fancy holograms.”

The six of you, the whole Express minus the conductor, casually walk through the scape of the Central Starskiff Haven, taking in the sights.

The weather (which is likely simulated) is nice and cool enough not to warrant you drowning in sweat. March 7th casually slips her arm through yours, tugging you closer to her. Your gaits are forced to be in sync, but you weren’t walking that much differently than her.

“Be gentle with them, March,” Himeko lightly chides. Her hand falls on your other shoulder, lightly squeezing.

“I’m fine, Ms Himeko,” you reply lightly laughing. “March wasn’t rough.”

“Oh? Well if it isn’t the Astral Express!” Jing Yuan is walking at your group, crossing the flow of walking traffic. He’s so much larger than the game made him seem; he’s taller and broader (especially in the chest) than his game model portrayed. His hair looks shiny and smooth, and you’re staring, aren’t you? Alluring golden eyes meet yours, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You don’t want to speak, too afraid you’ll make an absolute fool out of yourself in front of the General.

“Hey Jing Yuan,” Caelus, ever the angel, redirects his attention. “We need to have a meeting with you and a few others later on. Are you free this evening?”

“Hm?” Jing Yuan gives a distracted sound of affirmation. “Indeed, I am.”

The next person you run into is Master Diviner, Fu Xuan. The short pink haired girl (Fu Xuan in this instance, not March 7th) looks up at the commotion of your group’s entrance.

“The Astral Express and… friend. How can I help you today?”

Caelus and March help lead the introductions throughout the day and before you know it you’ve tracked down Qingque, Loucha, Sushang, and are now on the hunt for the hunters.

“Are we sure they’re here?” You ask after another detour down an Aurum Alley backstreet leads to nothing. “Could they be… I don’t know… at their secret base?”

Welt frowns, resting his weight onto his cane as he comes to a stop next to you. “We can only keep looking, as we don’t know where that so-called secret base is. If we don’t find them soon,” he sighs. “We will have our discussion without them.”

Your group resigns to having your meeting with the Xianzhou Luofu residents without the Stellaron Hunters.

Qingque listens to what you say with a blank, contemplative face, her hands fiddling with her Mahjong pieces, fingers rubbing the smooth finish. She looks at you when you move your gaze away, eyes watching you curiously.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” you finish off your mini-speech. “But, please, you all are vital parts of this world and its story, and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

Loucha has long set his coffin down beside him, letting the thing take up an entire chair’s space. Jing Yuan looks across the table at the blond man, “what do you make of this situation?”

“It sounds absurd.” The voice didn’t come from your table. You lift your head and look around the empty plaza.

“Silver Wolf?” When you utter her name, her hologram flickers beside you. She’s semi-opaque and looks down at you.

“You know my name.” Silver Wolf aprases you. “That does help prove your point, I’ll give you that.” Her gaze moves to a well maintained shrub across the way, “I think it’s legit, Kafka.”

“Kafka?” Jing Yuan’s eyebrow raises. At that moment her well maintained, elegant form slips out from the branches of the bush. She pulls out a stray leaf from her hair and nods at the General.

“How intriguing.” Kafka switches her focus to you, “if what you say is indeed true…”

“It is.” You say before you can stop yourself. Her eyebrow lifts at your eager reply.

Fu Xuan crosses her legs and stares harshly at the wine haired woman. “You are a wanted criminal on the Xianzhou Luofu.”

Kafka gasps, faux hurt on her face. Her hand lays over her chest, right where her heart is. “Imprisoning me would be against your better interests regarding this one right here.” She says, referring to you. “If Elio were to know of how this little one has come to our world, who would be able to ask if not me?”

“Silver Wolf could, no?” Fu Xuan bites back. When her gaze moves to where Silver Wolf’s hologram was though, she has disappeared. Kafka giggles softly.

“I take it that is a no,” Jing Yuan chuckles.

“A game…” Qingque muses softly. Sushang, seated beside her, nabs a lone Mahjong tile, flipping it in the air idly. “It’s so odd. I have a whole life of memories, yet you say I am only built to be a side piece for entertainment.”

You look down at your lap, face feeling hot with shame at ever evening playing Honkai Star Rail. It’s not like you could have known…

Madam Yukong hums, “while I am inclined to believe you, is there any proof you can offer us? Something you know that would otherwise be unexplainable?”

Loucha is silent in his seat. “How much do you know about us?” He seems troubled.

You think, wondering where the question came from at the same moment a certain cutscene comes to mind. Loucha was somewhere he shouldn’t have been and is carrying more than just a coffin laden with secrets around.

“As a general rule of thumb, I won’t be revealing anything possibly hurtful or incriminating about anyone here.” You sigh, a line of worry coming across your forehead. This is all a lot to deal with. “I… I will do my best not to infringe on any of your private lives.”

“Hey now,” March puts on a sympathetic tone and pets the crown of your head. “I’m fine with you infringing on my private life.” The words most definitely contain an innuendo that you don’t think anyone at the table failed to miss.

With pink cheeks Dan Heng says as well, “You have become somewhat important to me in the limited time we’ve known each other. I would not object to having a more private relationship with you.”

Rounding back to the Foxian’s question you address her. “I mean, yeah, I could tell you what I know of your lives, but honestly? It’s mostly trauma, and sad, sad things.”

Yukong takes a long pause, lips thinning. “I see. I will lend you my trust for now, though I wish to have a private moment with you later on.”

The whole table shares with you that you have no need to worry about forging bonds with them, and it makes you tear up a bit. “That’s very kind of you all, thank you.” Once the emotional moment has come and gone, you realize the absence of one key character.

“Kafka, where’s Blade?”

Her face, that remained unchanging for the whole duration of the conversation, falls slightly. “The Mara is harsh on him today.”

“Oh,” you’d almost forgotten about the Mara. The affliction that curses those who don’t die by it, leading Blade into an undying fate of misery. “I would like to talk to him and fill him in on me being here.”

“He will come and find me soon enough. Wait here with me, darling.” A warm feeling covers your face and chest at the pet name she gives you. Everything about this woman makes you feel crazy….

“Leave them alone with you?” March's tone makes it clear how much she detests the idea. “No way!”

Kafka pouts, eyes lidding as she looks over at the girl, “would you rather I take them to meet Bladie?”

Caelus calls your name, meeting your eyes considerately. “You played our world as a game, so you must have an answer to this. Do you trust Kafka to bring you no harm if we leave your side?”

Now that… it’s not like you’re alone in a desolate place with her. Screaming is always an option. The thought of spending time alone with her makes your heart beat faster and fills your head with its sound. You got sidetracked, imagining sitting side by side with the woman… rather you should focus on the question at hand.

“Yes.” It’s half true. You wonder if her Elio has given her orders regarding anyone from other worlds. Hopefully nothing like ‘eliminate them on sight.’

The Xianzhou Luofu and Astral Express crew bid you goodbyes, Himeko making a point to narrow her eyes threateningly at Kafka as she exits the pavilion.

Kafka drags a chair out next to you and leans on her elbows, gazing at you. You force yourself to maintain calm, even breaths, willing and praying for the heat in your face to dissipate.

The two of you sit there in silence for a moment.

“I wonder if Elio foresaw me coming into this world,” you muse, gazing into Kafka’s pupil-less eyes. The color, a captivating mix of red wine and magenta, doesn’t give away emotion.

“I doubt it.” Her words are floaty and smooth, “As much as I don’t want to admit that, but your existence seems beyond even Elio’s grasp of understanding.”

“Will…” those words send an uncomfortable feeling down your spine. “Will he be angry about that?”

“Who’s to say?” Though in her unchanging eyes you swear you see a hint of amusement. “Though the way you captivate the hearts and minds of everyone you come across, I don’t believe you to be in any danger.”

Well, at least you don’t have to worry about being nuked or anything at the moment. That’s a relief.

Occasionally making small talk, the sun sets on the Loufu as you and Kafka watch. It’s quite intimate for having just met today, but you find your head leaning on her shoulder, breathing in her scent.

While the sky is painted twilight purple, Blade finally makes his presence.

His gait is cool and slow and had you not known of his Mara-Struck status you would think he’s calm and relaxed. His red pupils dilate when he catches sight of you, and they flick over to Kafka where they stay.

“I am late.” He says, though does not apologize.

“Don’t worry about it, Bladie, I had plenty of time to learn about this little one.” Kafka rubs the back of her hand on your cheek, the rings unnaturally cool against your face. It envokes a rush of heat to your face, making you divert your gaze to Blade, who takes the seat next to you.

You’re caged in between the two most beautiful, cool, and awesome Stellaron Hunters. Breathe. Just breathe and don’t pass out or get a bloody nose, because that’d be so cringe.

Kafka’s laugh twinkles in the air like wind chimes at your reaction.

“Are you planning on staying with the Astral Express?” Blade probes. He traces the planes of your face mentally, taking in every detail that graces you.

“Oh?” Kafka leans across you to tease her… (dog) comrade. “Recruiting them already, are we?”

Recruiting you? Are they trying to get you to join their organization? What use would you be as a Stellaron Hunter? You have no battle experience (how would battle even work? Turn based fighting, even in the real world?), so you’re useless there. You have some tech know-how, but clearly nowhere near Silver Wolf’s talent. All you have is— oh.

They want your knowledge about being from beyond this world, don’t they? That revelation brings a sour feeling to your soul. So you weren’t being paid attention to out of genuine interest rather they’re using how you react so positively to being fawned over to gain your favor.

You pull back, away from Kafka and Blade. The chair scrapes the pavement painfully, shrieking as it does so. Both of their gazes flash over to you.

“Where are you headed off to little one?” Kafka calls for you as you gather yourself and stand. Blade remains silent, but his gaze makes up for it in intensity. Though with Kafka’s eyes being clouded and without pupils, it’s not a high calling.

“Restroom.” You lie comfortably.

“Let me come with you,” Kafka says, moving to standing as well.

Even if you do not use the same restroom, you shake your head. “It’s okay, I’ll be back,” maybe.

Himeko finds you wandering Central Starskiff Haven alone, her fiery hair flowing behind her as she speeds up her walk to a brisk pace. She calls out your name, making you look up and offer a half smile.

“Ms Himeko.” You greet.

When she reaches your side, she wraps a lean arm around your shoulders, and tugs you a tad bit closer. Her sweet perfume feels like a second hug.

“Did Kafka abandon you?” Himeko’s words bring a more genuine smile to your face, and respond lightly.

“I didn’t want to continue the conversation we were having.”

Her hand strokes over your hair, “hm? Do you want to elaborate on that or would you rather not breach that topic for now?” You wrap your arms around her waist, seeking comfort, and ignoring the way her golden accessories dig into your torso.

“I want to go home,” you reply quietly, speaking into her skin. Though you don’t know if you wish to go to your home, your home in the real world, or simply seek out the safety and privacy of the Astral Express.

“Let’s get you home, then.” Himeko keeps you close as you navigate through the thinning crowds. Her arms are sturdy as she keeps you close from other pedestrians.

“Where are the others?” you wonder idly. Perhaps they took the time to catch up with the Xianzhou Luofu locals. You hope they won’t leave early for your sake, childishly running away when things don’t go quite the way you’d wanted. That’d make you feel far worse than you already do.

“I believe Caelus and General Jing Yuan are training with Yanqing,” Himeko begins. “March is at the Divination Commision. Welt and Dan Heng are in the Exalting Sanctum. As for the native citizens, I can’t say I paid much attention to where they headed off to.”

You nod contemplatively. “Can we get something to drink, or eat, before we head back to the Express?” It seems like a decent way to spend the time, and your body seems to have realized that you haven’t eaten much today.

Himeko agrees, and both of you find your way to an outdoor table at the Sleepless Earl, the both of you nursing Immortal’s Delights and sharing a new cake they’re testing out. Mengming was eager to offer up the slice to you both, and well, free food is free food. It’s delicious too.

At a certain point you realize just how much of a date it is you’re on with Himeko, a classic coffee shop date. It makes warmth flutter in your chest like butterflies on fire. And she’s not doing it out of desire to wring you for information. Perhaps she feels some moral obligation to not let you get lost, but it seems that she likes you, genuinely, as a person. That brings a soft smile to your face that you cover with a sip of your sweet coffee.

Before you find yourself lost once more in the gold of Himeko’s eyes once again a flash of orange hair and brilliant fire catches your attention from your peripheral vision.

There’s a familiar looking street performer showing off dangerous fire swallowing tricks with a crowd surrounding her. With a start you realize it’s an unreleased character, one you had not accounted for being here.

Gui… something.

Himeko follows your gaze when you jolt, “I’m sure those tricks are safe, she looks well practiced.” Her cool hand covers yours, her gold rings clinking against the table.

You shake your head, “she’s part of the game.”

“Hm? I thought we rounded up everyone on this nation already?”

“I thought so too. She’s unreleased, but I’ve seen her trailer and some leaks. Gui, ah I can’t recall her name, but we should probably catch her attention when we can.”

Gui is amazing at keeping the crowd around her engaged. She’s a natural performer.

There’s a round of cheers as she leans back comically, covering her mouth like she’s going to cough before leaning upwards and blowing out a sharp stream of flame from her mouth.

“She’s really good,” you murmur to yourself, transfixed by her crowdwork.

“Indeed,” Himeko nods.

Guinaifen, you remember her name just as she takes a large, performative bow. The citizens around her disperse and you whisper her name under your breath. As if she could hear you, her amber eyes meet yours from across the pavilion. Her head tilts, her side ponytail leaning more crooked than it was.

“We should talk to her,” you say, but shyness is a hard beast to battle and you drop your stare.

Himeko lets out an amused huff as she stands and crosses to talk to the girl.

A few moments later the two fiery haired women return to your table. Guinaufen drags a chair from an empty nearby table and sits next to you.

“Ms Himeko here says you need to talk to me about something? I saw you watching my performance, so if you’re asking for trade secrets, I have to let you down now. A magician never reveals her secrets~.” There’s a sheen of sweat across her forehead and her baby hairs make a halo around her face. Your mouth dries up when you look at her.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” you say with a hoarse chuckle. You lift your refreshing drink up to wet your palate. “Actually, it’s a bit on the serious side. I would have invited you to the meeting earlier, but I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Hm? What meeting?”

“You have to take my word for it but I am not lying. Make an audience with the general if you want. He will back up my claims.” You ignore her question, instead focusing on carefully delivering your words. “This is a game. I played this world as a video game, but somehow I wound up here and I’m letting you know because you are an important side character. I did not know to search for you, because you aren’t a part of the story yet. If a time comes where I need your assistance to get me back to where I belong or something like that, I wanted you to be informed of this.”

“HUH?”

After thorough explanation with Himeko’s assistance, you bid Guinaifen farewell.

The artificial lighting of the Alliance ships dims as time passes, simulating a sunset as a natural planet would have. When the sky turns orange and pink, the same soft pink as a certain March 7th’s hair, you and Himeko decide to make your way back to where the Astral Express docked.

To your surprise, when you step into the passenger cart the breasts of Jing Yuan greet you. You blink, then look up to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Jing Yuan chuckles to help alleviate your embarrassment.

“It’s quite alright, I must be going now, I hope to see you again, and soon,” he finishes by saying your name, the deep rumble of his voice bringing more warmth to your face.

“You too, me too. Uh, bye Jing Yuan, I hope to see you soon.” You’re going to die, that was so embarrassing, what the fuck, you’re so so silly. Himeko hides a smile, wrapping her arm around your shoulders to escort you back down the sleeping cart and to the safety of her room where you can recover from your flush.

taglist. @leafanonsforest

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've seen the last '"g-d made you perfect" that I can handle, and it's led me to a realization about how I think of g-d.

I don't think we were made perfect. We were made human. And, if I'm honest, the only perfection in my mind is g-d, and that sense of perfection is what differentiates humans from g-d. If humans were as perfectly-made as g-d, I for one wouldn't see the point in following, believing, trusting, caring for, or loving g-d.

I guess for me, I see the ways in which humans alter the Way We Were Created that I really don't think it's right to speculate as to if there's a limit to altering our abilities or bodies. For instance, as a trans person, I've definitely been inundated with this idea that because g-d made my body "perfect" that I shouldn't alter it ever, but isn't that a dangerous precedent? Is it really so, that our bodies are magically made perfect, as g-d that to even tamper with the idea of change would be the same as cursing g-d? I really don't think that's compelling.

I love thinking about just how much g-d is placed into people, but I don't think it warrants restricting the ability to learn, create, grow, or change. Thank g-d that He created the ability to change!

[graysoncritic]

A (Negative) Review of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

Out of this entire essay, this was the section that I considered cutting entirely. After all, in the past there have been instances when Barbara Gordon and her romance with Dick Grayson have been weaponized by Taylor and his fans against his critics. 

The example that comes to mind was when Taylor and Redondo were criticized for not including Duke in a Nightwing cover that parodied The Brady Bunch.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Finale. Nightwing: Rebirth. 96, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022)

Personally, I believe that, while discussions of how Duke’s positioning in the Bat Family is warranted, the matter was blown out of proportion, and many of the attempts to cancel Taylor crossed the line into harassment (make no mistake, while I believe him to be a terrible writer, I do not wish him any ill-will). That being said, Taylor also escalated the matters when attempting to pin said negative comments onto DickKory shippers who did not like that he wrote DickBabs.

(While the original Tweet has since been deleted, the screenshot used is available in this tweet 

Neb | 🏳️‍🌈 [@NebsGoodTakes]. Twitter, 20 June 2022, https://twitter.com/NebsGoodTakes/status/1538939571789934593)

For this reason and this reason alone, I considered removing this part of the essay. While I have no idea if anyone will read this monstrosity, I did not want my arguments to be invalidated simply because I did not have a favorable opinion on the DickBabs.

However, after much consideration and numerous discussions with other Dick Grayson fans, I found that the subject of Barbara Gordon’s portrayal in this run (as well as in many recent DC media), and her romance with Dick perfectly embodies many of ideas I wish to explore in this essay — mainly, how shallow approaches to progress ideals create deeply problematic narratives that not only undermines the themes of a story, but they also destroy characterization.

I will start by once again stating that I do not believe this is a problem unique to Taylor’s writing. As I alluded to above, I believe DC’s modern portrayal of Babs does a great disservice to her wonderful, empowering, complex character. This is but the analysis of one of the stories she appears in. It is my hope to prove that in Taylor’s Nightwing, Barbara Gordon is not written as a woman with a strong sense of self and an internal life, but rather idealized girl whose existence revolves around the men in her life, and whose perfect yet shimmering depiction serves only to make her into the reader’s proxy-girlriend.   

Barbara Gordon in the late 90s and early 2000s was a mature and confident woman in her late-20s to early-30s. She had her own job, her own friends, team, villains, and the type of confidence that can only come with age and experience. She was serious while still having a sense of humor, pragmatic, and she knew exactly what she wanted for herself. 

(Gail, Simone, writer. Bennett, Joe; Barrows, Eddy, illustrator. Perfect Pitch: Part One. Birds of Prey. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2005. pp. 22)

She was also flawed. She could get angry at people for little reason, she could be too cold or too straightforward without considering the other person’s feelings, she could be purposefully petty and selfish, she could get unreasonably jealous, she was impatient, she could be too proud to admit when she was wrong. It was all of these factors which allowed Barbara Gordon to be her own person — to be a fleshed out, well-rounded woman. 

(Dixon, Chuck, writer. Leonardi, Rick, illustrator. The Gun. Birds of Prey. 39, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp. 16)

Babs’ life did not revolve around Dick. Yes, she loved him, but she still had some interiority. She had a life outside of Dick Grayson, outside of Bludhaven, outside of Batman, and outside of Oracle. She had her own goals, her own dreams, her own likes and dislikes that worked independently of the men around her. She had her own history that informed her decisions, she had both positive and negative relationships with other women and those relationships were not dependent on her connections with Dick or Bruce. 

(Gail, Simone, writer. Timm, Bruce; Lopez, David; Melo, Adriana, illustrators. A Wakeful Time. Birds of Prey. 86, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2005. pp. 02)

By comparison, Taylor’s Barbara is not a woman, but a girl. She is very young and very immature. If Dick is written like a young man who just left home and is experiencing adulthood for the first time, then Babs is written as his girlfriend who is still in college and does not have concrete plans for her future. 

Note that when referring to Taylor’s Babs, I mainly characterize her through her relationship with Dick. That was intentional. While writing this essay, I struggled to think of Barbara having any meaningful interactions with characters who were not Dick or Dick’s friends, the Titans. I also struggled to think of her doing something for herself rather than for Dick and the Titans. I struggled to define her goals independent of Dick, I struggled to describe the plans she has for her future that do not revolve around her relationship with Dick, and I struggled to give an account of what she does in her spare time when she is not helping Dick, Nightwing, the Titans, or Batman. That is because everything in Barbara Gordon’s life, as written by Taylor, is constructed around Dick (As many may know, it is really hard to prove a negative. How can I get supporting evidence from the comics that Babs does not have a life outside of Dick Grayson when my argument comes from those factors not existing? For this, though I hate to do so, I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on the reader’s familiarity with the run being discussed).

Barbara is a constant presence in Taylor’s Nightwing run. She is a secondary protagonist, and she is often portraying helping Dick Grayson behind the scenes,

(Taylor, Tom, illustrator. Redondo, Bruno The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Two. Nightwing: Rebirth. 93, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022 pp)

Helping Nightwing as Oracle,

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator Leaping into the Light Part 4. Nightwing: Rebirth. 81, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 19)

Or fighting by Nightwing’s side as Batgirl.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. You are Nightwing. Nightwing: Rebirth. 105, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 05)

She is always present, she is always doing something… But all of that is in the service of the men around her rather than for herself.

As Dick Grayson Fan A pointed out during a discussion, “Modern Babsgirl is forced to be perfect at everything. She's never allowed postcrisis Babs' edges, her flaws and intrinsic motivations. Taylor's Babsgirl is designed to be the perfect girlfriend for his blank self insert Nightwing. There's no meat to her bones, she's just shimmer and gloss.” (The subject of Babs came up when DC announced the lineup for Birds of Prey (2023) and Babs was not included on the roster.)

In other words, Babs as portrayed in Taylor’s run lacks any bite, edge, and maturity that would make her feel like a woman with her own sense of self and with a life that is not dependent on her boyfriend. Babs’ portrayal is a shallow girlboss-type of feminism, where though Babs is powerful and intelligent, she is not allowed to be a real person for she serves no purpose other than to be the perfect, understanding, badass girlfriend.

As a result, Dick and Barbara’s relationship becomes hollow. Because Babs lacks interiority, individuality, and agency, she becomes a flat character. This, in turn, makes it so it is hard to understand why Dick and Barbara are together other than for the fact that DC mandates it. The over reliance on the childhood friends-to-lovers trope only increases this hollowness rather than fleshing out their relationship. While Taylor includes flashbacks of Dick and Babs as friends when children, growing up together as teenagers, and fighting together as Robin and Batgirl, those instances feel removed from their individual histories. These moments exist in isolation, removed from the context of the rest of their lives, be it together or separately.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart. Nightwing: Rebirth. 92, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 06 - 07)

DC currently treats Dick and Babs as a foregone conclusion. As a result, Taylor does not make an effort to get his readers on board with the relationship because he assumes that they should already support it. Dick and Babs are portrayed as getting along great, never having had any conflict, tension, or disagreements. This idealized romance would not necessarily be a problem if it didn’t come at the expense of developing Dick and Barbara as individuals outside of their relationship. They are not one being, but two separate people coming together. They should be written as such, but in trying to create the perfect relationship, Taylor robs Dick and Babs of their identity outside of their romance. 

Not only does this inseparability that Taylor attempts to portray as “charming” destroy Dick and Babs’ individuality, it can also be downright insulting. In #106 Taylor infantilizes Dick when making it so Babs needs to be the one to wake him up so he can start his work as Nightwing. 

As I mentioned previously, Dick is known for his toxic perfectionism, his obsessive tendencies that often come at the cost of his health. Making Dick laze around in bed while people need his help and having his girlfriend tell him to get ready for the day, as if she was his mother and he was a teenager who did not want to go to school in the morning, is not only out of character, it also diminishes Dick’s competence. It makes it seem like he cannot function as a responsible adult without Babs being there to hold his hand through everyday difficulties. 

Not only that, the scene also plays into incredibly sexist dynamics where women are expected to carry the domestic labor in a relationship — the man cannot keep track of his own schedule, and so it becomes the woman’s responsibility to attend to his needs. What was intended to be a “cute” scene portrays Dick as being immature and irresponsible, and portrays Babs spend her time keeping track of an adult man’s responsibilities.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Byrne, Stephen, illustrator. The Crew of the Crossed Part One. Nightwing: Rebirth. 106, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp 08)

This unhealthy codependency further insults Dick when, in #107, Babs demands Dick come back home as he is about to help his ex, Bea. Rather than believing Dick’s capability as a vigilante who has been operating in the field for far longer than she has, Babs shows her complete lack of faith in Dick’s ability to get anything done by himself by telling him that she “wants him home now.” 

(Taylor, Tom; Byrne, Stephen The Crew of the Crossed Part Two. Nightwing: Rebirth. 107  e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 19)

This is a great contrast to Nightwing (1996) #66, where Babs encouraged Dick’s independence and had full trust in his abilities to take on such difficult challenges on his own. When Lockhaven goes up in flames, Babs trusts Dick to be able to handle the situation by himself, even though she also knows that Dick’s mind is greatly preoccupied with Bruce and the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Indeed, in the next issue (not part of Murderer/Fugitive, but happening simultaneously to it), Dick does handle the Lockhaven fire by himself, without requiring any assistance, before returning to Gotham to help with the investigation that should clear Bruce’s name.

(Dixon, Chuck, writer. Burchett, Rick, illustrator. The Unusual Suspects. Nightwing. 66, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp 18 - 19)

This healthy separation and this unconditional trust not only portrayed Dick and Babs as both trusting each other’s abilities as heroes — Dick did not worry about Babs’ capability of taking care of herself, and Babs knew Dick could handle his own — it also portrayed them as being more secure in their relationship. They were individuals first. They had their own independent lives and personalities outside of their romance. They trusted the other’s ability to win on their own and handle their own cases without help. And that, in turn, made it so that they could stand on their own, and so that their relationship did not feel so vulnerable.

That being said, it wasn’t as if previous depictions of Dick and Babs didn’t present them with hardships, or demonstrated how, at times, they could bring out the worst in each other. As much as they could compliment one another, Dick and Babs could also disagree, get into arguments, and even fights. That is because they were individuals first, with their own opinions, preferred way of doing things, and their own background that would sometimes come in conflict.

Taylor avoids having meaningful conflicts in his story. While this negatively affects his narrative in a myriad of ways, the lack of the conflict in the plot also affects the relationship between Dick and Babs. It is fine to have a wholesome, sweet romance, so long as it is balanced with a plot containing other forms of tension. This way, the relationship can be a safe harbor for the main characters, the one space in their lives where they can be safe, and the one source of strength they can draw upon when facing the challenges ahead. By balancing a conflict-filled plot with a wholesome romance, the stakes of the plot feel higher while the romance feels sweeter. They foil one another to create a cohesive and unified story.

In Taylor’s Nightwing, all major plot beats take a backseat to the sitcom-like relationship between Dick and Babs. The lack of conflict in the plot and the lack of conflict in the romance makes it so everything is stagnant.

I do believe that Taylor thought he was writing a “Will-they-won’t-they” style romance in the beginning of his run. In Nightwing #95, for example, Batwoman implies that the reason Dick and Babs aren’t together is because Dick and Babs are scared of crossing that line. 

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Four. Nightwing: Rebirth. 95, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 17)

Wally also played into that idea when, in #91, he pointed out that Dick and Babs were already together and just needed to make it official.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Get Grayson Act Three. Nightwing: Rebirth. 91, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 19)

More than that, I believe Taylor attempted to make a commentary on comics imposing needless conflicts in relationships to keep two characters apart. In Taylor’s view, Dick and Babs were always in love, always meant to be together, and never had a complicated history that prevented them from rekindling their romance when Dick is trying to regain some control over his life after recovering his memories. This shows a lack of understanding as to why Dick and Babs often break up and does a disservice to both their characters.

Now, to explain this, I’ll borrow heavily from a private discussion I had with a Dick Grayson Fan A once distinguishing the difference between external and internal conflicts in a romantic plot. While we were not talking Dick and Barbara then, much of what we said still applies to their relationship.

External conflicts, as the name suggests, involve external forces that keep the couple from being able to develop their relationship despite their mutual feelings for each other. This is the case with a romance like Clark and Lois. Given Babs’ laugh at Dick’s condescendingly sexist claim that Babs shouldn’t be with him because it is too dangerous (as if he doesn’t know very well that Babs can easily take care of herself), it seemed that Taylor believed that this was the conflict that has been keeping Dick and Babs apart. And so, with one panel, he dismissed the idea that external forces could keep Dick and Babs apart because they are able to face their enemies together.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Finale. Nightwing: Rebirth. 96, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp. 17 - 18)

But in the past, what broke Dick and Babs up were not external conflicts, but internal ones. If external conflicts are created due to external forces, internal conflicts preventing a couple from being together come from the characters not yet being who they need to be in order to be happy together. This can be due to a clash of personalities, worldviews, needs, wants, or goals. To prove my point, I want to look at Dick and Bab’s break up in Nightwing (1996) #87 and the Nightwing Annual #02. (I’ll be honest in saying that it pains me to cite Nightwing Annual #02 in this essay, for I absolutely detest it. I believe Dick is written incredibly out of character and it, quite frankly, captures one of my major problems with how some writers choose to depict DickBabs. In trying to prop Babs up, Dick gets knocked down and ridiculed, and often burdened with the full responsibility as to why Dick and Babs haven’t been able to get together due to timing and Dick’s immaturity. As such, writers make it so Dick and Dick alone must change in order to become a partner worthy of Babs. They greatly mischaracterize him, fault the failures of Dick and Babs’ relationships on those mischaracterizations, and then portray Babs as the patient woman waiting for her immature soulmate to grow up. This is both an insult to Dick’s character and a propagation of sexist tropes where a woman must put her life on hold in order for the man to “catch up” to her maturely. Not only that, it unfairly requires that only one party makes changes for another. It is not Dick and Babs that must change for each other, but Dick who must change for Babs.)

Just as Taylor uses Dick and Babs’ shared history to bring them together, their breakup explores how shared history can make being together so difficult. 

In Devin Grayson’s run, their shared history can be painful to Babs. Not because she doesn’t look back on their time growing up together fondly, but because it was such a happy time in her life that it makes her feel bitter about what she lost. While she is incredible as Oracle, she is still frustrated that she can't be Batgirl anymore. The past, no matter how good, is a reminder of what she can no longer be, and Babs wants to move forward. So Dick bringing up their time as Robin and Batgirl, however fondly, is painful for it makes her feel like they are stuck in the past they shared rather than moving forward together.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Path, illustrator The Calm Before. Nightwing. 86, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 21 - 22)

But to Dick, the past you share with someone is what makes your relationship in the present special. The past informs the present and the future. Dick, much like Bruce, doesn’t move forward by disconnecting himself from the past. His parents are part of his past. So is Robin. His childhood with Bruce. The past is something good to Dick, even when it's also so filled with pain. Dick is not shackled by his past the way Bruce is because he does not see it as something that needs to hold him back. You can move forward while still embracing who you once were and honoring the legacy you carry on your shoulders. The past informed who Dick is now, the relationships he has, and the person he wants to be. The past is where much of what he loves exists. So when he brings up their shared history when talking to Babs, he is not doing it because he loved Batgirl but cannot love Oracle, and he is not doing so because he is just focused on who they were then and not who they are now; he does it it's because to Dick, there's no such distinction between Batgirl and Oracle. They are both Babs, and he loves both of them. 

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Patch, illustrator. Snowball. Nightwing. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 16)

The way Babs copes with trauma is by divorcing herself from the hurt, by letting go of who she was and embracing who she wants to be. Dick, on the other hand, merges who he was then with who he is now. He doesn't see those people as separate entities, but rather as extensions of him. And that makes sense when you consider that Babs' main trauma relates to something that was taken away from her, and for Dick, the only way he can remain connected to his parents is through the past. It's a great example of incompatibility. Neither one is "at fault" for how they view this issue, neither of them is more correct than the other. They are just different. They care for each other, but the way they understand and interact with the world prevents them from being happy together at this moment. For that to work, internal change is needed. 

In portraying Dick and Barbara as complex individuals first, who have different attitudes towards looking back at the past and looking forward to the future, Grayson managed to make their relationship feel real. There’s a weight to their breakup, you can see why they care for each other and why this decision is painful and not taken lightly. They love each other, but they are not in a place where they can be themselves and be happy together yet. It is not danger that keeps them apart — it is the very same differences which they admire most about each other which pushes them away. 

In Nightwing Annual #02, we see other reasons why Dick and Babs failed to come together so often. These included Babs being scared of Dick eventually leaving her due to tensions between Dick and Bruce

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 22 - 23)

Timing,

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 25)

And, perhaps most importantly, the way in which Dick devalues his own life. 

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 37 - 38)

This is something Grayson also alludes to during her run, when she often portrays Babs being both worried and frustrated at Dick’s tendencies to push himself too far.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Patch, illustrator Snowball. Nightwing. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 13)

In both Grayson’s run and the aftermath of Infinite Crisis, the toxic perfectionism referred to many times during this essay led Babs to break off their relationship despite their mutual love. 

Having lost the mobility of her legs due to the Joker, Babs sees her life as Oracle as a second chance, and one which she will use to its fullest by putting herself first. It makes sense, then, that she sees Dick’s self-sacrificing tendencies and his desire for approval as both concerning and irritating. As Dick constantly puts himself in near-death scenarios for even the smallest of things, Babs decides that she would rather wait for a time when Dick learns to value himself more rather than to continue in a relationship where she is the only one who cares about whether Dick lives or dies. 

Whether this is the right solution to their relationship is up for debate. Personally, it irks me that stories will often frame this as Dick having to mature to be with Babs and not place an equal burden on Babs having to learn to accept that this is just who Dick is. But that is irrelevant to this discussion, for what matters is that there have been plenty of reasons why Dick and Babs did not work out in the past, and those are almost always rooted in who they are as individuals struggling to perfectly fit together as a unit. Dick and Babs have a messy history, both as individual characters with their own stories, and together as friends and romantic interests. They are two different people who, although their morals align, approach life differently. The development in their romance, then, comes with how willing they are to change for the other, and how willing they are to accept the things that cannot — and should not — be changed. It is about a balance of give and take, and when Babs and Dick broke up in the past, it was because they were not able to find that balance. It is because they, as individuals, clashed. As Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns and Cesar Alfonso Marino put in their essay analyzing Dick’s portrayal in the Batman Family (1975-1978) series, Dick and Babs will often find themselves in “point[s] of inflection which marks that both heroes must go their separate ways to avoid further tensions (developed by sexual attraction and/or problems about leadership).” (Pagnoni Berns, Fernando Gabriel and Marino, Cesar Alfonso “Outlining the Future Robin: The Seventies in the Batman Family.”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 32)

In other words, it was about interior conflicts, not exterior ones.

When taking this into consideration, one can see how Taylor’s portrayal of Dick and Babs’ relationship is not only incredibly hollow, but incredibly cynical. Because Taylor removed Dick’s self-destructive, toxic perfectionism, that is no longer a point of friction in their relationship. Because Babs is no longer the pragmatic woman who doses out tough love, that is also no longer a point of friction in their relationship. But as a result, Dick and Babs are no longer themselves, and their relationship is no longer representative of their shared history. Instead, we are left with an insulting and purposeful misrepresentation of their past relationship, with Taylor displaying a blatant disrespect and disregard for anything his predecessors contributed to these characters. Dick and Babs were never apart because of danger. Dick would never condescend to Barbara in this manner, and Barbara would never let something so trivial go unchallenged or get in the way of what she wants. What got in their way was a matter of compatibility. They may compliment each other in the field, be great friends, get along well, but in previous attempts to make their relationship work, they found that they were simply too different to share a life together, their goals did not align, and their approaches to life did not work together. Getting and staying together was not a matter of external factors, but rather whether they could do the difficult internal work necessary to make their romance last. 

I want to make it clear that I actually love the childhood-friends-to-lovers trope. But what makes friends-to-lovers interesting is the fact that it creates inherently messy romances. If you two characters who have loved each other for so long, then they naturally have a history. They have seen each other at their best and at their worst. Yet, insecurities, timing, and compatibility keep them from being able to get their happily-ever-after. That creates a messiness that adds weight and meaning to the relationship. Seeing them overcome these challenges, become better individuals, and then finally come together is what makes the narrative so effective.

Dick’s and Babs’ romance, as currently portrayed, lacks that weight. Taylor and DC want that history, that “true love” aspect of their relationship without acknowledging the complications that come from having lived so many years in close proximity. In other words, they want the appearance of a long shared history without acknowledging the contents of said history. This robs both Dick and Babs of their individual personalities and backstories, for it is there where the source of their conflicts lie. All of the things that make them interesting individuals are sacrificed for the heteronormative DickBabs amalgamation. There is no Dick Grayson. There is no Barbara Gordon. There is only a happy, wholesome, smiling couple of nothingness — as it was put earlier it is all “shimmer, gloss, and no substance.”

And this does not affect only them.  

In making Dick and Babs inseparable, Babs has become heavily involved with the Titans. This leads to the majority of Babs’s interactions in the current canon to be with Dick’s friends. And because, once more, Taylor skirts away from conflict, that means that all of Dick’s friends have become Babs’ friends. However, by making Babs friends with all of Dick’s female friends, Taylor created a shallow girlboss feminist narrative where all of these women’s individual personhoods are reduced their relationship to one man. He does not take into account who they are, only their gender and their mutual connection to Dick. In trying to do a girl-boss feminist empowerment, Taylor instead creates a deeply misogynistic narrative. 

Kory and Babs, for example, should be allowed to dislike each other despite being on the same team. They are, after all, supposedly fully realized women with their own personalities, values, and goals. Their existence is not dependent on Dick Grayson or their romance with him. Real world women dislike one another for various reasons that are unrelated to men. Male characters often hate each other without it being because of a woman. So why can’t the same be true for female characters? 

To attempt to make Kory and Babs friends simply to undermine expectations because one of them is Dick’s ex and the other one is Dick’s girlfriend is not empowering. It sacrifices characterization for the purposes of subversion.To think of the dynamic between these two characters in terms of their relationship with Dick reduces their existence to a man by implying that the only possible reason they could dislike one another is because of said man. It is not due to different value systems (which would be incredibly reasonable given their different background and cultures), it is not because their personalities clash (as they are two different people), it is not because their likes and dislikes may contradict (once more, because they are two different people). All the things that would make them realized individuals with agency are ignored in favor of focusing on their relationship with Dick. 

Babs is a cisgender, straight, middle-class white woman from New Jersey. Kory is a warrior Princess from a different galaxy. It would not be unreasonable to expect their opinions to conflict when their backgrounds, upbringings, and experiences also differ. After all, those are things that shape our value system, dictating our perspectives. 

Having different values or different ways to express your opinion does not mean that one is right and the other is wrong. It does not mean one is superior to the other. It only means they are different. Diverse. To believe one must be correct and the other must be wrong is to fall into the traps of ethnocentrism. By making Kory and Babs values indistinguishable, the story implies that there is only one correct way to interact with the world. This eliminates diverse perspectives in favor of a monolithic one. The fact that Kory's culture is the one that is ignored so that they are compatible with Babs implies that Babs – the cisgender, straight, middle-class white woman from New Jersey – is the one whose culture and world views are correct and, therefore, superior.

Dick’s relationship platonic relationship with Donna is also devalued and watered down in favor of Dick and Barbara’s romance. Because Dick and Barbara are depicted as having been each other’s best friends since childhood — when, in reality, Dick was closer to Donna during his preteen and teenage years, and Donna is often portrayed as his best friend — Donna’s place in Dick’s life is replaced by Babs. Babs must be everything to Dick — his true love, his longest childhood friend, his one female best friend. 

This creates a narrative in which Dick cannot have a significant interaction with another woman without it being a threat to his relationship with Babs. Needless to say, this is an incredibly heteronormative worldview which implies that men and women who are not related cannot share deep and significant platonic intimacy without some underlying romantic tension. So naturally, Donna cannot he Dick’s longest friend, his best friend, because in the heteronormative world portrayed in Taylor’s run, that would mean that she is a rival to Babs.

Perhaps it is for this reason that Melinda was revealed to be Dick’s sister so soon into her introduction. If Melinda and Dick were not related but were still meant to interact with each other, that would create a bond that some might see as romantic or sexual. So by presenting Melinda as Dick’s biological sibling within moments of the two first interacting, Taylor strips Melinda of any romantic or sexual appeal. In this heteronormative world, only by being related can Dick and Melinda share intimacy without threatening Babs’ position in Dick’s life. 

Needless to say, this heteronormative worldview which only allows for the relationship between non-biologically related men and women to be seen through lenses of romance and sex is also a misogynistic, male-centric worldview. In this story, women are not treated as people and are instead perceived solely through their relationship to Dick Grayson.

[yuikomorii]

🍓🎀Hi! I think in one of the post somebody ask you who is smarter, Ayato or Yui? And i think you reply saying that both are dumb and stupid lol but one is dumb and the other is stupid?? Lmaoo I can’t remember how exactly was, but what’s that supposed to mean? Like is Ayato smarter than Yui or reverse? Because I remember Ayato having his cool smart moments lol I just want to know who is the most smartest between these two dumb ppl lol 😂 🎀🍓

// Oh, you mean this post?

The reasons why I said Ayato is dumber than Yui and Yui is more stupid than Ayato are the following:

Basically a dumb person is someone unwise, impulsive and unknowledgeable/uneducated. They act that way not necessarily because of a lack of mental capacity or learning ability, but due to the fact that they don’t know any better or they DON’T want to know any better.

For instance, in CL, before regaining his memories, Ayato impulsively tried to fight Shu and Reiji on his own but was easily overpowered, leaving him injured. Once he realized the consequences of his actions, he became much more cautious, especially after his memories returned, to avoid putting himself or Yui in danger again. Another scene shows Yui offering to tutor Ayato, however, she was surprised by the fact that he learnt how to solve the problems very fast and that he got all his test answers right.

Credit to: dialovers-translations on tumblr

A stupid person is someone with a lack of intelligence or learning ability. They might not be always dense, but they are supposed to know better, yet they choose to do the wrong thing deliberately.

For example, there’s the pool scene in Ruki’s MB and the lake scene in one of Subaru’s short stories, where Yui jumps into the water despite admitting she can't swim, putting herself in danger. Another moment occurs in Carla’s LE route when Carla warns Yui not to trust Kino because he might be evil, yet in the very next chapter, Yui casually reveals Carla’s Endzeit to Kino, leading Kino to attempt to kill Carla. There are many more moments like these, but I think these examples are enough to prove the point.

It’s quite common to see Japanese players complain about Yui’s poor learning ability. I feel like DL fans already got used to that, but I get that it can indeed become frustrating. xD

Aside from that, Ayato tends to be more objective than Yui. While he feels bad and shows compassion when it's warranted, he mostly sees things for what they are. Even though he sympathized with Cordelia in DF, he doesn't feel the need to sugarcoat her actions. Yui, on the other hand, is the type to quickly change her opinion about someone or something as soon as she hears a sob story. I get it when it comes to the Diaboys, but she actually tried to justify Cordelia’s and Karl’s actions, which honestly left me speechless.

Taking everything into account, it’s quite hard choosing which one is smarter, but I do believe that Ayato has a better learning ability and more potential, it’s just that he doesn’t want or know how to use it. I think the only reason why Rejet keeps writing him dumb is because Japanese fans find that type of idiot cute, as seen here.

[drspleenmeister]

*Holding my smut!logistics head despairingly in my angry little hands*

Ugh.

Okay.

Girls, guys, whomever: I've said it before and I'm going to say it again now, because I've read more logistically implausible fics in the last few days than I dare to count on my grumpy little claws. The writing may be smoking, but if you can't get the logistics of sex right then you are just going to make your readers go, "Eh, what?!"

You cannot deepthroat someone while breathing through your nose. You can't. Unless you have gills. If you're writing smut for fish then by all means continue to have your characters comfortably taking in oxygen whilst choking on a cock. Otherwise, stop it.

Throat-fucking is hot, HOTTT, but again. Breathing is not possible simultaneously. Please. This type of breath-play is sexy. Use it.

Have you ever tried to hollow your cheeks with a cock jammed down between your tonsils? No? That's right: you can't. Your characters are either using their tongue and cheeks or they are using their throat; I guarantee they can't do both at the same time. Also, having a man able to feel the outline of his cock through the cheek of his partner while they are going down on him: only possible if he is JABBING his fingers into his partner's cheek and forcing the flesh between their teeth, or fucking the head of their cock into their partner's cheek-flesh. Either way is really not going to be comfortable for the partner who is doing the work.

Having your characters stop kissing because they can't breathe is fucking stupid. Have you ever kissed a human? You have a NOSE (which in this instance is NOT being blocked by a cock). It is perfectly possible for two humans to mack on one another for hours at a time without having to come up for air. Drawn-out snogging is hot; have you ever kissed someone so much that lube/prep is not even needed? Trust me, it's awesome.

Limbs. LIMBS. Block your smut scene out in your head, for the love of God. I can't count the number of times that a writer has led me to believe that a pairing are facing one another on a bed, only to find in the next sentence that one is actually behind the other up against a wall; or they're laying down; or one is seated and the other standing.

Get your names and pronouns straight (heh heh...), with m/m or f/f fiction it's so easy as the reader to lose track of who is doing what if you're only referring to the characters as him/her. Don't be afraid to use names, it's better to be too clear than not clear enough.

If you don't have the first-hand experience yourself to write about certain sexual experiences then LOOK. IT. UP. I am neither male nor queer, yet I adore m/m explicit fic and I've done my goddamn research; it drives me up the wall when a writer puts their men into a position that does not warrant easy access to the prostate, but then go ahead and try to write the act as if it's as natural as breathing. My dude, if you're making me - a straight female - shake my head at the logistical inaccuracies of one hot man fucking another hot man, then just imagine the fits of hilarity that you're sending an actually gay man into, who attempts to read your work!

I would say I'm sorry for ranting, but I'm not. I've been reading fanfic for a very very long time and it makes my cold, dead heart so happy when writers get it right, and so sad when they get it wrong.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 6949 Tags: fluff, sap, most of this only warrants a G-rating honest, the M is for mild and largely glossed-over spice toward the end, esablished relationship, winter, cold weather, christmas market, ice skating, sleigh ride, cozy cabin getaway, mulled wine, hot chocolate, a couple of things from last Fluffbruary worked their way in here oops, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, mild and inexplicit temperature play

Notes: Written for the magnificently talented and absolutely lovely @rooftopwreck as part of the Dreamling Nation Winter Exchange. Surprise, Vi! I hope you like it! You're such a warm and friendly person, a delight to know and talk to and you can always manage to make me laugh. I'm so glad I got the opportunity to write you a fic! Working with your prompts warmth, hot chocolate, and hearth (which I didn't quite get to but there is a fireplace)

Summary: It's winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

On AO3

"That's cheating, you know."

Dream turns to peer at Hob beside him as they walk down the street. "'Cheating'?"

Hob gestures broadly at Dream. "You," he says with a warm smile. "Your whole outside-the-bounds-of-humanity thing, just wandering around like the cold doesn't bother you."

Dream turns his gaze forward again. "It does not."

"But you could let it if you wanted to, right?"

"Is there a reason I should want to, Hob Gadling?"

"Well. I mean. You'll stand out less if you're dressed for the weather—"

"I can alter my clothing to blend in if it will assuage your concerns," Dream interrupts. He is uncertain of Hob's purpose in this line of conversation, or what any of this has to do with him accompanying Hob to buy groceries.

"Still missing the point, duck."

"Please. Enlighten me."

Hob blows out a breath, which clouds prettily around his face in the grey winter daylight. "There's a lot of really fun cold weather things we can do, human experiences that I, a humble human, would like to share with my more-than-human boyfriend. Things that just aren't quite the same if you're immune to the cold." He grins at Dream. "And then some other things that are purely selfish—how can I chivalrously offer you my scarf to stay warm if you don't get cold, for instance?"

Dream gives a put-upon sigh. "The weather is so frightfully cold," he intones, little better than deadpan. "If only some kind individual were to offer me his scarf, that I might warm myself."

"See I know you're just faking," Hob laughs, but all the same he unwinds the scarf from about his own neck, stopping to face Dream and drape it about him gently before continuing, shoulders hunching into his own coat. "It's not just about appearances, though. Isn't your sister always telling you to take more interest in humans and the 'human experience'? Isn't that how we met?"

"It is." Dream has buried his nose in the loop of scarf about his neck; it is pleasantly warm with Hob's body heat, whether or not Dream truly feels the cold as Hob does, and it smells enticingly of Hob as well.

Perhaps there is. Merit, to Hob's suggestion.

"Well, then…let me help you have some human experiences?" Hob is looking at him hopefully. "It'll be fun."

"I am quite pleased by the 'human experiences' you share with me already, Hob." Dream lets his mouth curl smugly above the scarf, tilts his head to glance at Hob through his lashes.

"Additional experiences. Cold weather experiences, outside the bedroom." Hob shakes his head, mock dismayed, betrayed by the smile in his eyes that's fighting its way down to his lips. "Can't believe you're making sex jokes outside Sainsbury's. What even is my life."

"I will. Consider your suggestion," Dream allows, as they enter the store, and no more is said on the subject that day.

~~~ When next Dream visits Hob in the waking world, he manifests his form in much greater human detail than usual. He pays special attention to making certain he has the appropriate body temperature and all of the internal intricacies to regulate it; he releases a breath, and it clouds the air before him.

He shivers.

His usual attire is indeed insufficient in this weather. He will trust that Hob can provide him something warmer.

Just as soon as Hob returns home.

Dream could let himself into Hob's flat, or wait for him inside the New Inn even; he chooses instead to wait outside, in the cold, that he might have the full effect of whatever it is Hob wishes him to glean from the experiment.

It is only a short time later that Hob returns, and his eyebrows shoot up beneath the cuff of the hat he wears to see Dream shivering outside the door at the back of the Inn. "Dream? What are you doing out here, you look like you're freezing!"

"Observant," Dream grits out, teeth clenched to still their chattering, arms tucked tight around himself. His mood has soured considerably in the interim.

"You choose the most peculiar times to take my suggestions to heart." Hob moves close, unlocking the door. "Did you miss the part where I mentioned wanting to share things with you?"

"Hence why I am here, waiting for you."

"Bloody obstinate git, you are," Hob chides fondly, opening the door and ushering Dream inside. The warm air is a relief, and Dream unclenches slightly.

"This is. A miserable experience so far," he says, uncharitably perhaps, but 'the experience' was Hob's selling point and Dream has yet to see what so enamours him of the cold.

"Ah, well, being cold is generally miserable, yes. Which is why you bundle up to enjoy the weather, and why you don't stand about waiting outside without a proper winter jacket when there's a nice heated pub right there, you numpty. Or just let yourself into my flat next time, honestly. Come on up, I'll get you sorted before we head out."

Dream is displeased by the thought of going back out, into the cold, but he is. Trying. Very hard, to be adaptable, to flow with change, to be open to whatever joy Hob thinks he might be shown. He recalls the way Hob's eyes had sparkled when he spoke of taking Dream round to the Christmas market, he recalls the dreams he has touched of such things over the centuries and he finds that he is able to muster a modicum of curiosity to see firsthand how they have evolved in the current era.

Most importantly, he does not wish to disappoint Hob.

It is much easier to brave the cold once Hob has bundled him into a jumper that is only marginally oversized (Hob is slighter than he tends to appear) and a scarf that is softer than the dreams children spin of summer clouds, and thrice as warm. Both smell faintly of Hob, which is delightful, and does a fine job of lifting his mood again.

"Hat, or earmuffs?" Hob holds out both options; after a moment's consideration, Dream chooses the earmuffs. A thick quilted overcoat ('puffer jacket', the collective subconscious supplies) and a fashionably slim pair of warmly-lined gloves finish off the ensemble, and Dream is nearly too warm thus arrayed.

It occurs to him as they leave Hob's flat that everything Hob has dressed him in is black, in keeping with his own preferences, and the realization sparks a different, softer sort of warmth in his chest.

~~~ The Christmas market is a lively, bustling affair, bright with voices and possibilities and fairy lights twinkling in the late afternoon dusk, robust with soft snatches of daydreams that twine and brush against him the way a cat might wind itself about one's ankles. There are children dashing about, parents tugged along behind them, flitting from one booth to the next in a flurry of contagious excitement; young couples and old, solitary visitors enjoying the time alone, groups of friends laughing together and Dream finds himself smiling at the wisps of half-formed fancy that reach him in the wake of everyone who passes by. It is easy to understand, immersed in this festive atmosphere, why so many humans have such love for the holidays.

"We're gift shopping for my staff at the Inn," Hob says, "and a few friends at work too. I like just wandering around to see what I can find—easy to make it personal that way." He gives Dream a wink, rakish and cocksure with the smallest edge of uncertainty hiding beneath it. "I know you're ruler of your own realm, unfathomably More Than Human etcetera etcetera, but if you see anything here that strikes your fancy? Just say so." He tugs lightly on his ear where it peeks from beneath his knit hat, glancing up and away for half an instant. "I'd be happy to buy you anything you like."

"A kind and gallant offer, Hob Gadling." Dream lets his smile curl into a smirk, leaning into coquettish charm to cover how genuinely pleased he is by Hob's generosity of spirit. "You would woo me with gifts, with tokens of admiration, when my affections have already been won?"

"Got to keep the romance alive, haven't I?" Hob shrugs, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, mouth curved in a smile that is brilliant in its sincerity. "I'd woo you a thousand times over if you wanted. Eager to please, always seeking for more, you know me."

"Intimately," Dream purrs, leaning in for a kiss. It's soft and short and chaste, as not to scandalize the other shoppers; Dream's lips and nose are mildly chilled, as are Hob's, but his heart is very warm when Hob returns for another peck before they part completely.

They browse the stalls at leisure, Hob selecting gifts carefully for each of his recipients, Dream rifling through what he knows of their dreams to help Hob choose when he has difficulty deciding. The tote bag Hob brought along slowly fills with packages and Dream has no trouble admitting that he is enjoying their evening, despite the cold.

There is a brooch that catches Dream's eye, a pair of poppies masterfully worked in silver and transparent red enamel, set with tiny black and white 'gems' for the center of each. It is a far cry from the sort of jewelry one might expect of his station, but Dream can feel the care, the dreams, the love of the craft that have gone into the creation of the piece, and it is striking. Hob buys it for him, gifts it to him, fixes it to the folds of the wonderfully soft scarf about his neck, and Hob's regard and affection, his care, seep into the brooch as well.

"Suits you," Hob says, dimpling sweetly, warmth simmering in his eyes, and Dream smiles back with equal affection. Certainly he might have simply manifested himself something similar, grander; the value of this piece, however, lies not in jeweled splendor but in the intent that went into its gifting.

~~~ "I am enjoying our time together," Dream says, while the mulled wine vendor is filling their commemorative Christmas Market mugs and adding clove-spiced orange slices for garnish.

Hob smiles, brilliant, beautiful. "I'm glad." He reaches to flick a light touch to Dream's earmuffs. "Staying cozy?"

Dream considers. Next time he will take the hat, he decides; his ears are warm but he has seen now where he would benefit from full coverage of his head. And perhaps thicker trousers as well; his jeans do not hold heat in any substantial fashion. The cold is not so bothersome to his legs as it is to his core and his extremities, but something warmer would not go amiss.

"The cold is far more tolerable when dressed properly," Dream admits, "for which. I thank you. However—" He pauses while Hob collects the prepared drinks, then continues. "I fail to see how letting myself feel the cold enhances the experience. I would be just as pleased with our evening had I not undertaken your suggestion."

"That's fair," Hob allows, contemplatively. "Thing is—" he offers a steaming mug to Dream "—if you weren't bothered by the cold, you wouldn't appreciate this half as much."

Dream accepts, cradling the mug in his gloved hands, letting the steam rise into his face. The warmth is pleasant but the aroma is utterly intoxicating, heady and fruity and laced with an assortment of spices that bloom behind his palette as he breathes it in. He can feel how his pleasure lights his face, and Hob's chuckle confirms it a second later.

"Try it, I promise it's everything you're hoping for there. Mind, it's hot—"

Dream raises the cup to his lips, heeding Hob's warning; he blows gently across the surface and sips carefully.

He makes a sound that is very nearly indecent, eyes fluttering shut for half an instant despite himself. The flavor is exquisite, bright notes of citrus and cloves and cardamom bursting on his tongue, but the warmth—it suffuses his mouth, flows down his throat with the wine, spreads softly throughout his body. He sips again, a careful slurping mouthful, and the soft heat chases through him delightfully.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, both hands wrapped around the cup, entranced with the steam rising softly into his face.

"See?" Hob's grin is bright and wide, eyes sparkling like the fairy lights around them, and Dream cannot even begrudge him the thrill of triumph that radiates from him. "Sometimes feeling the cold is worth it."

"Perhaps," Dream allows, and sips the wonderfully warm wine again.

~~~ Hob takes him ice skating on his next visit; this time, he manifests inside Hob's flat with warm cable-knit leggings, black with hints of silver threaded through, and a slim knee-length skirt that is quilted and layered for warmth. The poppy brooch Hob gifted him at the Christmas Market is tucked into his hand and his usual grey t-shirt is all he wears above.

Hob raises an eyebrow at him. "Got it half-right, at least?"

"I would. Borrow, from your wardrobe, if I may," he explains somewhat hesitantly. "I enjoyed wearing your clothing, smelling you upon me the entire evening. It is. An experience I would like to repeat."

The slow delight that brightens Hob's face as he says it is entirely worth the squirming discomfort of speaking the admission aloud.

"Okay then. You're in luck." Hob beams at him, all but heart-eyed, and goes to rummage through his wardrobe. "Same black jumper as last time, here's the scarf, had them both on for a bit yesterday, aaaannd—earmuffs?"

"Is the hat still on offer?"

"'Course it is. Here." Hob tosses him the hat instead, a black and silver cable-knit thing with a wide cuff and a large and fluffy pom pom on top.

Dream is pleased to have recalled its appearance accurately when manifesting his leggings; they are a perfect match.

He delights in the soft lingering scent of Hob as he pulls on the jumper, as Hob winds the scarf about his neck and pulls the hat snugly down to cover his ears. Dream hands Hob his brooch to pin to the scarf (the delight in Hob's eyes to see it makes Dream doubly-glad he had brought it), and then Hob curls those warm and wonderful fingers lightly around the back of his warmly-wrapped neck and leans in to kiss him, short and soft.

"You look adorable," Hob breathes, and while that is not a word nor an image he cultivates of himself in most circumstances…this is Hob. And Dream does not mind.

"Puffer jacket's in the entry hall," Hob says then, dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Let's get you bundled up and head over to the pond."

~~~ "Have you skated before?" Hob asks, while they are lacing on their rented skates at the chalet.

"I am the king of all dreams and nightmares, prince of stories; I am the entirety of the collective human subconscious. All skills are within my grasp."

"So that's a no, then." Hob grins at him brightly. "That's alright, I'll teach you."

"I do not require instruction."

"Does his majesty know how to skate after all, then?"

Dream opens his mouth for a haughty retort to Hob's impertinence and pauses; certainly the necessary skill is available to him with minimal effort, but the idea that Hob would like to teach him is…appealing. "Perhaps," he hedges, with just enough of a pout to imply that he truly means 'no', and Hob smiles, warm and brilliant.

"Then let me help you out, duck. I promise I'm a very good teacher."

"I did not say that I do not know how," he protests, for appearances, while something in him swoons at the idea of having all the skill that Hob has honed in his chosen profession focused solely on himself.

Hob chuckles brightly. "'Course not. Still. Humor me? Let me feel useful."

"Very well," Dream concedes, concealing his delight, and allows Hob to lead him out onto the ice.

Hob is indeed a good teacher, and Dream basks happily in the casual intimacy of his unnecessary instruction, the focused warmth of his attention. Gliding over the frozen pond with Hob's guiding touch at the small of his back and Hob's other hand clasping his—he feels carefree, lighthearted, happy, and can easily understand why countless stories of young romance have featured this same activity.

Hob leads him about for a good while, offering guidance as he feels appropriate, but even when he deems that Dream has mastered the requisite balance and coordination, Dream is not at all inclined to sally forth on his own. Skating with Hob is the entirety of the appeal, after all; hand in gloved hand they glide and twirl about together, faces rosy with the cold, until the weak afternoon sun slowly relinquishes its place on the horizon to the encroaching evening.

~~~ "Here. Have some hot chocolate; it'll warm you up and the sugar will boost your energy," Hob says, as Dream is tying his boots back on. Hob had taken their rented skates to the return counter and come back with two takeaway cups, one of which he is offering to Dream.

"I do not require sustenance."

Hob rolls his eyes fondly. "Yes yes, I know, but you liked the mulled wine well enough last time, didn't you?"

"Wine is drunk for pleasure, not for sustenance."

"Same with hot chocolate. Well. It's sustenance for the soul, maybe, but not for the body." He presents the insulated cup again, waggling it slightly. "C'mon. Stop being contrary and take it. It's a vital part of the experience."

Dream is being contrary, simply for the pleasure of the way Hob pushes back. He is accustomed to the deference he receives from others as is due his station, but he very much appreciates that Hob treats him no differently having learned who he is. He is both friend and lover first when he is with Hob, and he delights in the many small ways that he can prove to himself over and over again that Hob values him over his function.

But the chocolate does smell enticing, and the memory of how a hot drink warmed his body last time is compelling; he accepts the cup with no further argument.

"It's the common dry-mix stuff, not real hot chocolate, but it's got its charm. 'Specially on the go like this," Hob offers as Dream takes a sip, and he is correct. Dream had tasted what Hob had ordered for them in the back room of the White Horse in 1789; he has encountered enough dreams to know that this is a pale version of the concoction but all the same, it is pleasant enough in its own right. It is a component of the experience he has shared with Hob and is enriched by that association; Hob was correct in this as well.

The warmth suffusing throughout him is as delightful as he recalls.

~~~ "I am. Enjoying, these cold-weather human experiences, with you," he admits as they stroll toward home. He had quietly taken Hob's hand as they left the pond and Hob has made no effort to reclaim it, carrying his drink in the other and sipping from it occasionally. Dream is doing the same, and his admission comes forth with suprising ease.

Hob grins. "It's the pleasure of my sparkling company. I enhance every experience."

"Perhaps," Dream allows with a smile, and Hob's gleeful expression softens.

"I'm glad you're having a good time, love. Thanks for trusting me."

The words warm Dream as deeply as his next sip of chocolate. You are worthy of my trust, Hob Gadling, he thinks, but what he says is, "Of course."

"I've got a great idea for our next date," Hob says then, beaming brightly again. "I'm very excited about it, but I need to make sure—" He squeezes Dream's hand gently. "Would I be able to keep you two days? I mean, I know you don't sleep and you'd probably want to check in on your realm while I'm sleeping instead of just watching me snore but there's an overnight trip I'd really love to take you on, if you're amenable? If it works for you?"

"Watching you sleep would not be the dull experience you believe it to be," Dream says first, which leaves Hob flustered and tongue-tied long enough for him to gather the rest of his words. "I would. Delight, in keeping your company overnight, in spending. More than one day at a time, with you." Lucienne would gladly see to his realm for far longer an absence, he is certain, particularly if she is made aware of why he must be away—her quiet approval of first his friendship and then his romantic relationship with Hob have been a steady source of reassurance as it progresses.

"Fantastic! Alright. I'll get it booked for a couple weekends out." Hob grins, absolutely glowing with his pleasure, and Dream is deeply warmed by the knowledge that he is responsible for putting that happiness there.

~~~ They drive a good long while out of the city when the weekend comes, the heater in Hob's car keeping them warm enough without heavy jackets for the duration. Hob eventually pulls into what looks like a farm in the countryside, and when they exit the car Dream dons the long fur-lined coat that he had manifested at Hob's direction. His boots are tall and fur-lined as well, warm and comfortable; his hands are buried in a cozy fur muff and a warm fur-lined hat covers his head. Beneath it all he has once again borrowed Hob's jumper and scarf, with the brooch Hob had gifted him pinned on, and he deems himself adequately prepared for whatever Hob has planned.

It is a sleigh ride.

They are ushered to a not-quite-traditional one-horse open sleigh, the bed of it still built to accommodate two passengers but an extension in front for a separate driver, allowing for the passengers to simply enjoy the ride. Dream very much intends to do so.

"What other surprises do you have in store for me?" he asks Hob as they settle into the sleigh. The driver flicks his reins and they lurch smoothly into motion toward the open snow-covered field.

"Just a quiet winter getaway," Hob answers, sitting up straight and laying his arm over Dream's shoulders. "We've got an hour or so to ride, and then we'll get to a little cabin in the woods where we'll spend the night. Then we'll catch another ride back late tomorrow."

Dream slouches on the plushly-padded seat just enough to fit comfortably beneath Hob's arm, leans into him with a smile. "You spoil me, Hob Gadling," he declares, soft and sincere, and Hob's laughter drifts away behind them as the horse moves from a slow walk to a lively trot along the groomed trail.

The weak winter sun is making its descent across the watery-blue afternoon sky as they go; the breeze is sharp against Dream's face, but his body is warm. His hands in the thick fur muff are warm, as are his ears and his head beneath the warmly-furred hat. His eyes sting marginally and his nose and cheeks are chilled, which is easily remedied by tucking his face into the folds of the soft woolen scarf Hob had wound snugly about his neck. It blocks the mild wind, holds the heat of his breath quite pleasantly, and most importantly it carries Hob's scent still. Dream inhales deeply, smiling, and leans further into the comfortable weight of Hob's arm around him.

The sleigh ride is uneventful, and quite pleasant for it. It is easy to feel the romantic shape of the story about them, bedecked in such finery, snuggled close against Hob, the air crisp and lively as they move from field to forest on their journey to a cozy private hideaway. There are many stories such as this in the Library, and Dream is unspeakably pleased that Hob would choose this sort of tale to spin anew with him. There will be lovemaking when they reach their destination, Dream is certain of it.

The thought warms him in more ways than one.

~~~ "Here we are. Proper hot chocolate, freshly made," Hob announces, turning from the stove in the cabin's kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand, carefully making his way to the main room. The fireplace is crackling cheerfully, bleeding wonderful heat into the space around it. Evening is falling outside and with it, new snow; Dream, cozy in Hob's borrowed jumper, is only too happy to accept Hob's offering.

The warmth is again exquisite, and the flavor is indeed far richer and creamier than what they had consumed after ice skating. Dream sips at it with relish and Hob settles on the couch beside him, smiling. "A whole night with the Dreamlord all to myself," he says, eyes twinkling. "What sort of cosmic favors does one normally have to offer to lay claim to your attention this way?"

"Great boons of significant value," Dream replies loftily, in keeping with Hob's teasing tone, but he is thinking of former lovers and their laments of his inconstant attention, and how Hob is always welcoming and delighted to see him whether it has been a week or several months. How Hob is considerate and respectful of his duty even when he is irreverent to Dream himself, how he had assumed that this overnight trip might easily involve Dream slipping away to attend to his duties while he himself slept. How happy he had been that Dream agreed to his request.

"And yet you give it to me just for the asking," Hob says then, soft and wondering and utterly devoid of teasing. "I really am the luckiest bloke."

Dream would like to say something equally heartfelt and besotted, but he is overfull of affection, of soft adoration, and his words will not make themselves known. Instead, he sets his mug on the coffee table, unfolds himself from his corner of the couch, lets himself flow into the tidal pull of Hob Gadling until his arms are around Hob's neck and their lips have met.

Hob makes the softest, sweetest sound, sets his drink aside, settles his hands on Dream's hips up underneath the warm bulk of his borrowed jumper. Dream pulls back the slightest distance, brushes his nose along Hob's, tilts his head and takes Hob's mouth again, sweet and cocoa-warm. He brings a hand to cradle the corner of Hob's jaw, licks softly between Hob's lips, kisses him with all of the words that stir silently inside him. Hob wraps him close, touches him with gentle reverence, kisses back with the same quiet intensity; and as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, the warmth between them blossoms slowly and steadily into a familiar and welcome heat.

Dream wants, with intensity, ensconced in Hob's lap and secure in Hob's arms around him; Hob so easily, so often inspires him to such wanting and it would be maddening if he did not know that Hob will always and eagerly provide.

"Got an idea," Hob gasps presently, breathless, when Dream's building tension has thoroughly infused his touches and his kisses have grown fevered and urgent. Hob extricates himself gently from Dream's embrace, slides to his knees on the rug before Dream.

The heat in Dream's core curls sharply and he turns, unfolds so that his thighs bracket Hob's shoulders. "I do not believe the proprietors of this cabin intend for sexual activities to take place on the couch."

Hob laughs, bright and beautiful. "You started it, love."

This…is not untrue. "Perhaps."

"Well, I'll just have to be careful not to spill anything, won't I." Hob winks and pulls Dream's hips forward and Dream lies back, willing and wanting as Hob opens his trousers, nuzzles him through his underwear. Hob sits back and works Dream free, then reaches for his cocoa on the coffee table behind him and takes a sip.

And then he takes Dream into his mouth and Dream jerks at the sheer heat of it, makes a stifled wanton sound as Hob's tongue strokes heavy against him within the cocoon of his mouth. It is not the simple human-sex-warm that he is accustomed to; it is hot with the drink Hob has just consumed and the difference is striking.

"Good?" Hob asks, pulling off, and Dream shivers, delighted, aflame with his wanting.

"Yes. Hob—"

Hob takes another sip from his mug; Dream holds his gaze as he swallows and when Hob's mouth closes around him again after, Hob's eyes steady on his as the heat sinks in, Dream cannot help the whimper that escapes him.

Hob smiles around him and Dream is lost. The next few moments pass in a haze of pleasure, the ebb and flow of Hob's heated mouth, Dream combing trembling fingers through Hob's hair as he goes back down after every drink, the renewed heat bringing Dream closer and closer to his peak. He makes no effort to restrain his voice; Hob has told him repeatedly that he loves to hear Dream's pleasure, loves the affirmation that he is 'doing something right down there'. So he pants and moans, clinging loosely to Hob's head as Hob's heated mouth and clever tongue bring him up to the precipice, cries out as Hob tips him over the edge.

Hob spills nothing, true to his word; when the tension falls out of Dream Hob sits back and swallows, chases it down with the last of his hot chocolate. He then tucks Dream back into his clothing while Dream lies boneless and drifting, awash in the warmth of his satiation and the warmth of Hob's affections and the warmth of the fireplace and he is. Warm. And content.

Hob touches his face, gently, and Dream returns to himself, blinks into the bright warmth of Hob's smile.

"Still with me, duck?"

Dream manages a very loose, very satisfied smile of his own. "Perhaps."

"I will take that as a compliment," Hob grins, and levers himself up onto the sofa, settling into the corner. He reaches an arm toward Dream. "C'mere."

He is beckoning Dream into his embrace, to lie against him, which. Is not the next step Dream had expected.

"Do you not wish—?"

"Later," Hob assures him, smile soft, eyes gleaming warmly in the firelight. "Right now, you're so soft, so relaxed—I just want to cuddle you, maybe read to you for a bit, let you tell me the stories behind the stories and such. And let you finish your chocolate, of course."

And so Dream settles himself between Hob's legs as Hob stretches them the length of the couch, leans into the solid warmth of Hob's body behind him, cradles the mug that Hob passes him in both hands while Hob reaches for the book on the coffee table. It is a collection of poetry and folktales from around the world, and Dream offers anecdotes from his own memories of Aesop, of Hans Christian Andersen, of Bharavi in between Hob's readings. Once he has finished his drink, he snuggles in closer, turns a little, tucks his head under Hob's chin and his arm around Hob's waist. Hob wraps an arm around him in turn, drops a kiss to his hairline, continues reading, and Dream allows himself to simply…drift. The warmth of Hob's embrace, the gentle lull of Hob's voice in Hob's chest beneath his ear, the silence of the falling snow out the window—it is all of it so quietly serene, so comfortable, and Dream cannot recall when last he felt such tranquillity.

~~~ When the book has long been put aside and the fire has burned low, and he has lain in the comfort of Hob's arms for long enough that sleep has crept over Hob some time ago, Dream stirs, and Hob wakes.

"Duck? 'M sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep—"

"I do not object."

Hob chuckles. "Naturally the King of Dreams does not object to a little nap."

Dream feels himself smiling and does not resist it. "It is no hardship to lie with you while you sleep, Hob, but your back will not thank you if we spend the whole of the night thus."

"Right you are." Hob shifts beneath him and turns; to Dream's surprise, Hob pulls him closer, wraps an arm behind him and hooks the other beneath Dream's legs before he rises, lifting Dream in bridal fashion as he stands. Dream clings around his neck obligingly, amused and warmly delighted.

"Such gallantry, Hob Gadling," he breathes, as Hob moves toward the staircase.

"Always did wanna carry you to bed properly," Hob grins, and Dream absolutely must kiss him without a second's delay.

He leaves off so that Hob may climb the stairs safely to the loft, where the bed stands laden with a thick fluffy duvet over a velvety-soft blanket and flannel sheets, a sumptuous promise of comfort and warmth. Hob sets him down, undresses them both, ushers Dream beneath the covers and snuggles in after him.

The cabin is cooling down with the fire banked, but that only makes the cozy layers of the bedding and the heat they make beneath them all the more precious. Hob has him slow and languid, ardent and tender and vulnerable in this cocoon of warmth and closeness; Dream holds to him steadfastly, clings fiercely about his shoulders, lies back and lets Hob love him.

For he knows: that is what this is. There is no doubting Hob's affections for him, nor how deeply they run. The way that Hob moves atop and within him, kissing with relentless adoration all the while, stroking reverent fingers through his hair and whispering heartfelt vows and endearments against his lips—it warms Dream through, leaves him grateful and marveling. Hob, who time and again chooses life and living, has chosen him, despite all forewarning that choosing Dream was choosing poorly. Hob loves him, wants him, wishes for his company and his happiness and goes to whatever lengths are needed to ensure both.

Hob, who clings to Dream in his sleep now, after, head pillowed on the dubious cushion of Dream's chest, smile resting soft on his lips, arms comfortably close about Dream's waist and hip. Hob, who waited faithfully when Dream missed their meeting, ensured Dream could still find him when the White Horse closed, welcomed his return without judgment or recrimination of any kind; Hob, who treasures him, warms him, looks to his well-being and wishes to share favorite experiences with him.

Hob, who seeks no power, no boon, has never asked more of him than his company when his duty allows it.

Dream looks carefully at the glowing warmth in his own approximation of a heart, in the whole of his being; tentatively, he names it for what he knows it to be, and trusts that calamity will not follow. He cradles Hob's sleeping form close, strokes through Hob's hair again and again, traces the shape of his smile with gentle fingertips.

Warm, content, he holds Hob and he drifts in his happiness.

~~~ The morning comes slow and lazy, and they are both very cozy in the bed, but eventually Hob must get up to relieve his bladder. Then, with the chill of the cabin made apparent, he starts and stokes the fire before returning upstairs and diving back beneath the covers with Dream. The rest of the morning is decidedly less lazy and quite immensely satisfying, and by the time they leave the bed the cabin is comfortably warmed.

"Shower with me," Hob offers, and Dream agrees instead of simply willing himself clean. The cascading warm water, the simple pleasure of soaping Hob's body and being lathered up in turn, the intimacy of washing Hob's hair, of Hob's fingertips then massaging his scalp and Hob's hands gently tilting his head back into the spray to rinse, these all constitute yet another wonderfully human experience that he can fully appreciate, because Hob wishes to share it.

Hob cooks them brunch once they're dried and somewhat dressed, scrambling eggs and toasting bread in only a pair of low-slung joggers with a short towel draped behind his neck to manage the ends of his damp hair; Dream watches him work, smiling, cozy in Hob's jumper and a pair of fluffy grey socks with his bare legs tucked beneath him on the barstool at the kitchen peninsula.

"Here we are," Hob says, plating him a beautiful omelette laden with spices, peppers, and roasted tomatoes alongside a slice of buttered toast slathered with strawberry jam, and Dream accepts it with equanimity. He does not need to eat in the waking world, it provides no sustenance, but the ritual of sharing meals with Hob is entirely pleasant. Hob goes to great effort to prepare things that Dream will enjoy, and Dream. Is not inclined to see those efforts wasted.

The food is good. Hob's food is always good, and especially when infused with his warmth and love, as this is. Dream savors the omelette, lingers over the sweetness of the toast—Hob has spread it with 'far too much jam' just as Dream prefers—and smiles his pleasure at Hob, who beams back with his mouth full, which is far more endearing than it should be.

~~~ "I'm so glad you let me talk you into feeling the cold," Hob says later, once they've cleared the kitchen and resettled on the sofa. Dream is in Hob's lap, hands stroking through the hair on Hob's chest, bare thighs splayed to either side of his hips. He is kissing up the side of Hob's neck, very much in pursuit of a particular goal; he forewent trousers for a reason, after all. But Hob is still talking. "Gave me a great excuse to ask you here, after all, and I'm very much enjoying all this cozy cabin sex."

Dream draws back and looks at him, amusement plainly evident in his tone. "Hob Gadling. Has all of this, your insistence on sharing cold weather experiences, been merely an elaborate ploy to convince me to come away to the woods with you for 'cozy cabin sex'?"

"Perhaps ," Hob replies, with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows, and then he laughs. "No, love, everything we've done has been for its own sake. Including this mini holiday. I'm…" He trails off, tilts his head and tugs briefly at his earlobe. "I'm really glad you agreed, to all of it. I like doing fun things with you—I like spending time with you, full stop, whatever we're doing. But it means a lot that you've gone along with my plans and suggestions and that you've had a good time too." He grins, bright and beautiful. "The Dreamlord, Prince of Stories, King of all Dreams and Nightmares and Entirety of the Human Subconscious lets me take him on dates. Ordinary mundane cozy little human winter dates, and he even enjoys them. I am truly the luckiest bloke in existence."

His pure simple authentic joy is infectious; it seeps into Dream's body and settles warm around his heart, leaves him aglow in happiness, a soft smile on his face as he leans down into Hob to kiss him again.

He loves this man, fiercely, completely. It is he who is the lucky one.

~~~ The morning passes into afternoon and stretches closer to evening before they deign to part from one another, and then only because their transportation will be arriving soon. They dress, pack, tidy up, and Dream employs a measure of power to ensure the cabin is presentable (and sanitary) for the crew who will be coming in to clean and prepare it for the next guests.

The sleigh arrives as scheduled and Dream shrinks his form slightly as he climbs into it, the better to fit beneath Hob's arm. He settles comfortably in the warmth of his hat and his coat and Hob's scarf, the warmth of Hob's embrace, and Hob cuddles him close, tips his hat up enough to drop a kiss to his forehead and tugs it back down as the driver sets out.

I know what it is, to love Hob Gadling, Dream thinks as they go, but does not say. He is brave enough to accept the truth of it, but not yet brave enough to speak it aloud. He knows, on some level, that keeping it unspoken does not change the fact of its existence, but there is power in words all the same. Perhaps it makes no difference; Hob is technically no longer mortal, their love has existed for some time whether Dream has acknowledged it or not and no disaster has yet befallen them or humanity.

Still. Dream is nothing, if not cautious.

He moves just enough to glance up to Hob's face, and finds Hob gazing down at him with love shining plain in his kind depthless eyes; he smiles, knowing full well the same shows clear in his own face, and settles, snuggles back into Hob's shoulder to enjoy the remainder of their ride back.

The air is crisp, cold, invigorating, in a way that can only be appreciated when one has bundled up properly against it. Hob has ensured that he is, and so Dream can enjoy it.

He is. Content, warm in his love for Hob, warm in Hob's love for him.

Perhaps, one day, one of them will say it.

Then again, perhaps there is no need.

=== Started: 12/8/23 Drafted: 1/5/24 Posted: 1/8/24

Title taken from I Love the Winter Weather/I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Tony Bennett, which dovetailed too perfectly with the themes that developed in the writing for me not to use it

I love the winter weather So the two of us can get together There's nothing sweeter, finer When it's nice and cold I can hold my baby closer to me And collect the kisses that are due me I love the winter weather Because I've got my love to keep me warm

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

With the news that Catherine has been allowed to offer royal warrants in her own name it reminded me of tea spilled to Sassy, Empress or Plant that Meghan was trying to do that before 2023… hopefully someone can find that tea again

I actually have that! It’s on my spreadsheet. (Sorry everyone, I’m an Excel nerd.) It’s hard to do on mobile but I’ll grab the links later and post them.

But for now, there are two instances of Meghan trying to issue royal warrants/patronages in her own name.

1. Meghan wanted to make a deal with the US Open for a patronage or a sponsorship, like what Kate has with Wimbledon, but no one was interested. Allegedly she tried to pitch them at the 2019 US Open when she was there to “support” Serena. (I say “support” because tennis gossip at the time was that the Williams didn’t want her there at all, especially Serena, because of the jinx - Serena doesn’t win and plays poorly when Meghan watches - since they’re superstitious. Most athletes are, about this kind of thing.)

2. Meghan was trying to score freebies at LA restaurants by saying she could get them royal warrants or other royal perks. (It’s the same scam that all the influencers do - “let me eat for free and I’ll post about you on my IG and drive up your profits.”) I believe Meghan did it a couple of times and it ended up on a couple different sites.

[fancifulplaguerat]

I want to talk about Georgiy Kain. Fr find that miserable old man so compelling. Imo the best way to analyze Georgiy is through his attitude surrounding Simon’s death, which is whole-hearted denial clearly predicated on Georgiy’s symbolic interpretation of Simon’s death. This is repeated ad nauseam in Georgiy’s dialogue with Clara and Daniil in their respective routes, and I shall start with Daniil. 

Georgiy insists to Daniil that “Simon could not have died a natural death, so murder is the only feasible explanation” and “under no circumstances could my brother die a natural death.” When Daniil explains that Simon died of plague, Georgiy pushes back and insists that without tangible proof he won’t credit Daniil. He says, “If what you say is true, doctor, the labour of our life is condemned. We will seek a different answer till the very end.” This introduces that Simon’s death denotes the Kains’ downfall to Georgiy, and his apparent desperation towards this is evident in his emphatic denial and repetition of this sentiment. For instance, he tells Daniil “Till the very last moment I will hope that the murderer does exist […] if you’re right, that is a death sentence for us all. Look for the murderer as long as you can.” Georgiy somewhat shows his hand here, given that he will “hope” a murder exists and accordingly implores that Daniil look for a murderer “as long as he can.”

I think my dearest Victor provides further evidence for Georgiy’s desperation-informed denial, as if Daniil asks whether Simon’s death resulted from his experiments, Victor says, “I think, between me and you, that this is precisely what my brother Georgiy fears.” But even rational Victor echoes Georgiy’s interpretation of Simon’s death: “the cause of Simon’s death is much too significant. It seems we are on the brink of a realization that will be a death warrant to all of us—and, more importantly, to our life’s work. Georgiy wants to exhaust all possibilities of finding proof that he is mistaken.” Georgiy seemingly explains this potential death warrant under Clara Oath, in a confession which contains the same sentiments as his exhortations to Daniil. That is, Georgiy claims that “if [Simon’s] death was not a tragic accident but the ruling of some remorseless law, it will mean that our family's entire cause has been condemned. The town will perish. […] I will try to keep believing that his death was an accident. For as long as I can keep this belief alive, I'll be able to strive for our creation to flourish as it always did.”

So, I think this reflects Patho Classic’s broader narrative as presented in Clara’s Route; that the Plague is the Law attempting to correct itself as the Utopians broke it with the Polyhedron. The Kains appear aware that some calamity was looming, as Maria claimed that they had expected it, and with all the Kains’ manipulation of Daniil as a successor I think the Kains knew they were fucked to Hell and back and that Simon’s “death” (infection) was the nail in the coffin. Especially since Georgiy characterises Simon’s death as the “ruling of some remorseless law” if it were not murder, which Imo evokes characters like Katerina, Griff, and Anna in the Bachelor Route, who claim that Simon’s death was inevitable. This appears further supplement through another dialogue between Georgiy and Daniil: 

Georgiy Kain: We will fight... until the very end. I will personally persecute those who would dare describe this disease as some kind of preordained divine retribution! I will attack anyone who would say Simon got what he deserved! Finally, I will not allow anyone to say that what Simon has built by ceaseless labour is subject to inevitable destruction. Bachelor: Retribution for what? [or] Is it really inevitable? So this omnipresent fatalism is in your nature too? Georgiy Kain: Sooner or later the one who dares challenge the mechanics of nature will pay the price. But this is not something we'd want to believe, is it? This is a conclusion drawn by people who tend to mistake their exhaustion for wisdom. However, even an echo would sometimes grow to become deafening noise. If people keep saying we're doomed, they might well bring about our extinction.

Two main points here. Firstly, Georgiy directly addresses disease as divine retribution, and his impassioned claim to persecute anyone who describes it as such again exemplifies his apparent desperation. Likewise Georgiy’s response to Simon references the inevitable destruction which Simon’s death apparently heralds. Yet I think this dialogue also suggests that Georgiy’s denial is not truly denial in the conventional sense, but an attempt to rewrite what has happened. That is, I find it pertinent that Georgiy claims that people may doom themselves if they *say* so—Georgiy apparently believes in performative utterance, or that speech can change reality. Thus perhaps he holds that if he empathetically claims that Simon died of murder, he could somehow manifest this in reality and preclude the inevitable downfall of his family and their labours. Georgiy thus echoes a consistent theme I’ve noticed in Patho (particularly in Clara’s Route) that individuals’ beliefs can influence reality’s course. Yulia even addresses this in respect to Simon: “People like [Simon] are a natural hazard. Their mission exists as long as they believe in it, and others suffer from its consequences.” Yulia’s dialogue suggests to me that Georgiy’s denial is an attempt at a performative speech act—that as long as he *believes* in Simon’s murder, his death was neither inevitable nor divine retribution, and thus the Kains are not doomed.

I am presenting for the jury my main evidence Georgiy’s admission that “Till the very last moment I hoped that my brother’s demise was of… mechanical nature. That he had suffered a violent death. I was waiting so eagerly for it to be proven. The cause of his death will undoubtedly become the reason all of us will die. So it’s the Plague after all…” Which Imo confirmed that the Plague is indeed the Law attempting to put the utopians back in line. This also seems apparent in Victor/Georgiy’s contrasting perspectives on Simon’s death and how they view Clara: Georgiy clings to his conviction that Clara is Simon’s murderer, and Victor is more merciful towards her. Victor’s mercy could ofc be personality difference, but there seems more to it, as he tells Clara, “Saddened though I am on Simon’s account, I am nonetheless not so foolish as to be angry with you. Only a fool would curse and threaten the wind that has torn the sail off his mast. Besides, unlike Georgiy, I profoundly doubt the imminence of your victory.” Victor apparently doubts the plague necessarily means the Kains’ downfall—perhaps he has more faith in another way out, presumably through Daniil and Maria. 

Victor also interestingly claims that “I’m doing everything I can to make [Georgiy] face the terrible truth. Simon wasn’t immortal” but Georgiy claims “Immortality is the greatest secret humanity is forbidden to posses. Still, my brother managed to break the seal that locked it away from everyone else.” I have no precise explanation for this disparity, but I have a Theory based in Georgiy’s dynamic with Simon. That is, Georgiy is particularly concerned with Simon’s soul rather than Simon as his brother. This somewhat manifests in how Georgiy’s denial seemingly rests in what Simon’s death represents, but is dragged out into the open through Clara’s “hook” for Georgiy’s soul: “Georgiy, oh Georgiy, I know of you this: you didn’t love* Simon, and you were no twin of his.” (*The translation is “you didn’t like” Simon, but the Russian uses любил and frankly that is too catastrophic a difference in meaning). This initially seems somewhat counterintuitive given how Georgiy’s relationship to Simon is defined by other characters; Victor claims “There’s no tradition Georgiy wouldn’t disregard for Simon’s sake” and Nina (as Victor) says “Georgiy Kain, who so ardently desired eternal life for his brother, has committed himself in entirety to Simon’s Memory.” In combination with Georgiy’s little denial-sponsored murder mystery, it seems somewhat out of left field, but ! I think it suggests the point I want to make that Georgiy’s care for Simon is for his soul, not his brother. 

For my damning I-rest-my-case evidence I offer Rubin’s claim that “I won’t be able to bring Simon back, but I might try to discover his secret. If Georgiy cares more about his brother’s mission than his person, he’ll agree.” Because Georgiy does just that !! Even though Rubin and others are bewildered that Georgiy chooses to forgive him rather than smite him dead for snatching Simon’s body. This seems more likely given that Georgiy explicitly tells Daniil that “It isn’t Simon himself that we [the Kains] need—but the power of creation he wields. We live for its sake. Simon is not the Polyhedron’s purpose; rather, Simon’s purpose was to allow such Polyhedrons to spring up in this world.” Another circumstantial detail is that Georgiy is routinely described a fanatic above anyone else in the Kain family, apparently obsessed with their mission.

Now everyone stay with me but. I do think that Simon Kain was a living breathing twin of Georgiy, but that he is potentially holding an immortal soul passed down through the Kain family, since the Kains have practiced reincarnation for five generations and Georgiy routinely discusses Simon’s soul as its own entity. Also how the game complicates whether Simon *really* exists, because on the one hand, Rubin and Victor’s dialogues indicate that he did. When Daniil asks whether Simon truly existed, Victor claims: “There is indeed a spark of genius to you. Alas… yes. Yes, he did […] Alas—for that would be too simple an explanation. Simon well and truly did exist.” Likewise Rubin: “You think I don’t know what Simon looked like? You think his greatness, his noble visage, is comparable to his brother or anyone else?” This may explain the contrast between Victor and Georgiy’s conceptions of him—that Victor thinks of Simon more as his brother, and Georgiy as the “soul of creation” for which the Kains live, capable of becoming quasi-divine or an udurgh, with the Polyhedron as his new body. I mean. This theory is not perfect but it helps me sleep at night. 

On that note of “comparable to his brother,” I also want to examine some possible jealousy of Georgiy’s. In particular because Patho insists that Georgiy cannot replace Simon, which seemingly seeks to suggest that Georgiy was lesser to Simon. Clara can ask Georgiy outright whether he will replace Simon, and Georgiy claims “None of us [the Kains] would be able to advance and sustain the town in the way Simon did,” which suggests that he recognizes an inferiority to Simon. Then there is all that Victor Lore which I will throw on the table again, where the Stamatins claim that Victor could succeed Simon. Peter says, “I think [Victor’s] waiting for Georgiy to make an unpopular move to finally show his real face. Just kidding,” and Andrey claims, “Victor was a good disciple to Simon. He’ll manage to renew his achievement. Georgiy won’t,” and “Victor is a natural born ruler; he could be doing it all by himself. It’s Victor, not Georgiy, who is Simon’s true heir.” Even goddamn Daniil is framed as an heir for Simon over Georgiy. Now. I DO NOT think this is literal, that Victor or Daniil (<3) are capable of what Simon was. Rather, this is more about Victor’s leadership and that Victor is pragmatic and Georgiy too fanatic. In fact, it seems like Georgiy’s Achilles’ heel is indeed his fanaticism; that is why he could never replace Simon, because he is just oh so obsessed. BUT. I think it’s interesting that there is one way Georgiy was apparently Simon’s intellectual superior: he created the philosophy of Focus and Memory. 

Victor explicitly informs the player that Georgiy “had rather simplistic views on the connection between the human body and the soul. Disregarding the opinions of theologians and philosophers, and ignoring serious studies on the subject, he worked out a doctrine of his own. Try to imagine our shock when it turned out to be true. […] We don't understand it ourselves. This necrosophy was probably the only area in which Georgiy had surpassed his great brother. No one knows why, but his recipes for communicating with the dead did work. All this terminology—‘Memory', 'the Focus’���is of his coinage.” The phrasing of “surpassed” is what again suggests some potential competition between Georgiy and Simon. Then Georgiy elucidates his methodology in dialogues with Daniil, which I am compelled to include for my personal reference: 

“Dealing with the dead calls for scientific precision, doctor. I reality there is neither magic, nor necromancy. […] There is life after death. That much is certain. A man most certainly has a soul. And that soul certainly belongs to a better world—more so than to the one it leaves behind. Trying to prolong the time the soul has to stay here is not doing it any favours” and “To bring one’s dearly departed back to life [….] The fact of the matter is that the dead linger inside us—their living counterparts […] the dead may be brought back to life by the focussed emotions of the living.” Given that the Kains have apparently practiced reincarnation for centuries, Georgiy thus appears to have innovated or improved upon this methodology, and in so doing did one thing Simon could not, but still in service Simon—or rather, Simon’s immortal soul.  

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 3 (Mastermind)-MOTA Fic

A/N: We've got some introductions, some sassy moments, and some more insights into Ruth :) As always, let me know what you all think!

Ruth took her time sight-seeing all that Thorpe Abbotts had to offer.  She was nothing if not a meticulous memorizer of information.  Seeing the place was just as good as reading about it, if only for memorization purposes.  For instance, she learned that the mess hall wasn’t far from the Red Cross quarters—and there was a shortcut in between the barracks towards the mess hall if she really wanted to take it. 

She also learned that the base was spread out enough to warrant long walks every day or at least some sort of transportation.  Especially if she was to be going between the main building and the barracks to deliver summons and act in a secretarial position unless a court martial arose.  

After making two rounds of the place, Ruth was confident that she had the place down in her mind. Ultimately deciding that another lap towards the runways would do her some good, Ruth’s sharp gaze caught onto the field crews.  They were the unsung and silent workers behind everything that went on up in the skies—and you’d have to be crazy not to trust them with your life. 

Man wasn’t meant to fly, Ruth was absolutely certain about that.  If he was, then God would have blessed him with wings rather than gangly limbs.  Seeing as how Ruth didn’t have any sprouting wings or amphibian gills, she’d opt for staying on dry land and ground.  So for any man to put trust in another man and his ability to fix a rickety hunk of metal was something awe-inspiring and God-fearing all at the same time.  

Counting each of the spots for the planes, Ruth’s gaze fixated on a particular black spot on the ground where something had clearly gone wrong with an engine.  She wondered if the plane was still functioning or if it had been one of the planes to go up in the air—or if it was just gone, erased from existence and no one would know that it had been there, save it be for a few paper trails.  

“Earth to curls!” 

Ruth nearly tripped, spinning around and eyes going wide at the sight of a jeep pulled up to a stop behind her.  She hadn’t even heard them pull up behind her, let alone the tires or the engine.  She must’ve been seriously locked in her thoughts to not have noticed or heard them. 

“And by curls, do you mean me?” Ruth questioned, narrowing her gaze and tipping her chin at them.  

“Oh, a lady with an attitude!” One of the boys in the jeep piped up.  And that’s all they were—boys. 

“This lady has a name and a rank.  It’s Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe,” Ruth replied, straightening up her back and looking at them with a stern gaze.  It was channeling all of the sternness she had when she dealt with her younger siblings back home.  

“Well, Lieutenant,” One of them drawled.  “It’s great to meet ya!  You’re standing in our spot for the planes!  They should be getting back here soon and we wanna be ready.  Don’t wanna run you over, you know?” 

At that, Ruth let a smile spread across her features.  “I understand perfectly, thank you…” She trailed off, giving an expectant look at him. 

“Sergeant Ken Lemmons, ma’am!” Ken answered, tipping his cap at her.  “And these two scallywags with me are Jenkins and Conrad!” 

“Well I thank you for letting me know and for not running me over,” Ruth replied, stepping out of the way and onto the grass.  “You said that there’s a mission on now?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Conrad replied quickly.  “We ought to be hearing the sirens any minute now.” 

True to Conrad’s words, not even before he had finished his sentence, sirens began blaring loudly throughout the camp.  Ruth had never seen anything like this before—never been present at such an event.  It was entirely for that reason that her gaze was transfixed on the skies and on the planes that were flying in. 

Ruth could scarcely believe her eyes as the planes came rocketing into the runway—and sheer chaos spread across the entirety of Thorpe Abbotts.  Nurses and doctors were rushing to get men out of the planes, and the amount of blood that was spilling onto the tarmac nearly made Ruth’s knees buckle.  She felt a wave of nausea and dizziness roll through her as she stared—unable to rip her gaze away from the horrific sight in front of her. 

She wasn’t sure she had ever been this close to the war before.  And it made a shiver crawl down her spine.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth hadn’t had much of an appetite after seeing the gruesome sights on the tarmac.  Her mind was wandering in all sorts of ways, tangled up in her own ideologies and wondering about the why.  Ruth was a strange amalgamation of pure and simple logic and science mixed with religion and faith. 

War was senseless.  It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t logical in any sorts of ways, it just existed.  

Still, Ruth found herself being rallied by both Helen and Tatty into heading to the pub for the night, seeing as how the mission that the men had run was considered a success.  If every mission that went successfully ended in a pub night, Ruth was certain she’d end up having an alcohol problem or something.  She had full intention of observing and watching the dynamics at the pub tonight, not partaking in festivities herself. 

She had been to plenty of pubs here in England and they weren’t the same as bars back in the good ol’ US of A.  In fact, she found the pubs in England to be far more inviting and less unsavory than that of bars in the states.  There was something about the hospitality that was extended, the way that the social sphere seemed to revolve around them, and the way that everyone just seemed more at ease together here.  

By the time that she and the Red Cross girls got to the pub, it was already packed full of pilots and Brits, meaning that the dynamic was decidedly not as peaceful as Ruth would have preferred.  She had no sooner been waiting near the front counter than someone was sliding up next to her. 

At this point, Ruth was an expert in shooting men down and trimming their egos down to size.  And she wouldn’t lie, she found a particular satisfaction in watching men get torn apart verbally and being humbled by a gal such as herself. 

Ruth turned, nearly rolling her eyes at the grinning man beside her.  He seemed over-excited for someone who had clearly just flown a mission earlier that day.  Perhaps a side effect of adrenaline rush or wanting to feel it again—but whatever it was, she wasn’t all that sure.  He had distinctly blue eyes and a mustache that was just near enough to Clark Gable’s to be considered attractive—though Ruth had never really considered Clark Gable to be all that attractive anyhow. 

He was chewing on some sort of gum as his gaze washed over her—not in a rakish way, but certainly in an interested one.  “What’s a pretty gal like you doin’ in a place like this?  You must be new here since I know pretty much every girl on the base and you’re not one of them.”

The lines were as tired as her patience levels were, quite honestly.  “That’s not a real New York accent,” Ruth replied, looking at him innocently.  “So where are you really from, hotshot?” 

For just a moment, the man stared at her with nearly a gaping mouth—trying to decipher if she was really calling him out on his entire shtick.  “What?” He replied lamely. 

“As a real New-Yorker, we can spot fake ones miles away.  So where are you really from?” She asked, giving a teasing smile back in reward. 

At that, his shoulders deflated.  “Not impressed then?” 

“Unfortunately not.  But the effort is appreciated,” Ruth retorted as a drink was finally placed in her hands.  “And yes, I’m new.  I’m Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe—” 

Recognition dawned in his eyes.  “Oh shit—” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.  “You’re the new JAG Corp lawyer, right?” 

“And if you know that then you’re one of the air execs and there’s four of those—so that narrows it down.” 

He finally gave a sigh and grinned wearily at her.  “Bucky Egan.” 

“Do you always hit on people who deal with court martials for a living or am I just special?” 

His cheeks burned red as he let out a breath.  “I suppose asking you not to court martial me on account of my ignorance would be a poor move?” 

“Considering Huglin’s no fraternization rule and that it’s only my first day AND you really had no idea who I was, I suppose I can let you off with a warning,” Ruth said pointedly.  “But I intend to clean this place up, and if that means shutting down flirtatious pilots such as yourself, then I won’t hesitate.” 

“Cutthroat.  No wonder Huglin likes you.” 

“Which begs the question why he puts up with you, given your track record and consistent erratic behavior—I must be the fifth or sixth woman you’ve flirted with tonight.” 

“Oh so you were watching me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.  I’m watching for problems.” 

“And am I one?” 

“Undecided at the moment,” Ruth retorted.  “I’ll be sure to let you know though.  And if you’re looking for someone else to flirt with,” Ruth’s eyes swept over the crowd, landing on a girl with curly hair watching them closely.  “That girl over there hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you came over here.” 

“You’re helping me?” 

“Redirecting your efforts towards someone who you might actually have a chance with,” Ruth corrected sharply.  

“Backhanded help,” Bucky murmured, eyes locked onto Ruth for a final time.  “You’re an interesting one, Sharpe.” 

“So I’ve been told. I hope to not see you in court.” With that, Ruth took her drink and made a beeline for both Helen and Tatty, who were chatting in the corner. 

Upon her arrival, Helen had grasped at her arm.  “What did Egan want?” 

“Is he always that brazen?” Ruth grumbled. 

“Usually,” Tatty stated dryly, taking a sip of her gin. “You sent him away like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.  It’s good for his ego.” 

“Well if there’s one thing my father always prescribed for men and their egos, it was a dose of time with me,” Ruth grinned.  

“You didn’t find him charming?” Helen pressed. 

“As charming as a snail in its Sunday best,” Ruth murmured.  “I’m not here for men like him.” 

“You’re here for other men?” 

“Men who are problems, yes.  I’m the solution.  Or the thing that breaks the camel’s back, proverbially speaking.” 

Helen and Tatty exchanged a wide-eyed grin. “Oh you’re fun.  We’re gonna love watching you tear them apart, aren’t we?” Tatty questioned.  

“I certainly hope so.” 

[popart-vvv]

This is a PSA...

FUCK THAT STUPID "PARODY" OF GOODBYE VOLCANO HIGH!

Why? Why?!

It was made by members of 4chan, the worst site on the internet BY FAR! The complete opposite of KO_OP--filled with right-wing rhetoric and intolerant of any piece of media that dares to be different! If you like the "parody game" and its related products, then you're saying that you support 4chan, warranting a block from me.

2. Lazy and unambitious design. GVH is all-around unique; high schoolers having to deal with the lead up to a cataclysmic event, deciding how to spend their time up to that event, and every character is an anthropomorphic dino. Plus, the game is a blend of rhythm and cinematic adventure, a novel choice in game design. Plus, the characters are all written like believable teens with understandable issues (the effects of the impending meteor, for instance), with plenty of non-forced conflict.

The OTHER game, meanwhile... stole the designs of the main characters and appropriated them into high school drama cliches, plus, the design for the main teacher blatantly rips off an Adult Swim character, for some reason. The worst part is the main character, though! It's just some muscly guy with a blank face! No eyes, mouth, hair, NOTHING ON THE HEAD! Goddammit, seriously, that is the WORST character design I have ever seen in my life!

Plus, THAT game is just another throwaway dating sim VN that can NEVER reach GVH's level.

3. LGBT ERASURE! THIS. IS. WHY. YOU SHOULD NOT LIKE THE GAME!

GVH's main characters are queer one way or another: Fang is non-binary, Rosa is a transgender woman, Sage is a transgender man, and it's possible for Fang to enter a relationship with Naomi. Reed is also hinted to be in a relationship with a male classmate, Alvin. Plus, there is some subtext regarding the pairings of Trish/Rosa and Sage/Stella, as well as in Naser's arc.

Meanwhile... THAT game is basically a vehicle by its creators to espouse 4chan bullshit. Fang is an enby when you first meet them, but their "happy ending" has the player character convince them to detransition. RED FLAG! RED FLAG! And the only endings where they stay an enby are the ones that don't give them any respect! This is bad messaging! Apparently, they're saying that the only way to find happiness in life is to throw away your queer identity! FUCK THAT SHIT!

Again, that is huge disrespect towards a likeable representation of an enby.

Note: Rosa, Sage, and Naomi's queer characteristics were envisioned DURING the rewrite, so it was after THAT game was revealed. Make of that what you will.

4. It blatantly disrespects KO_OP, and frankly, the company does not deserve it.

Goodbye Volcano High was released in August of last year, but it was actually revealed as far back as summer 2020. It was VASTLY different back then--it was more like a traditional visual novel, except with the same anthropomorphic dinos and unique designs. By the time GVH was released, it had gone through a huge story rewrite, resulting in the final product.

Unfortunately, there's a whole backstory in the development of GVH.

2020 was when COVID-19 was ravaging the world, and KO_OP's workers were struggling with the disease, putting a major dent in the game's production and delaying it for a while.

Also, the rewrite started not long after the game was revealed. Admittedly, this was due to a mistake on KO_OP's part in their choice of a writing crew, but the writing team was replaced, so good on them.

Also during development, they were harassed by 4chan and other unsavory people, culminating in THAT game. Basically, there's an undercurrent of PTSD--on the KO_OP Discord, if you bring up THAT game or any other hugely offensive content, you'll get a warning or a ban. Is it any wonder they hate THAT game?

Also, as I mentioned in a previous post, KO_OP should be admired for withstanding all that crap and releasing GVH three years after its initial announcement, the payoff being that it has its own dedicated fanbase and was nominated in three major awards ceremonies. Like GLAAD!

5. Real-World Events

Probably the worst part is that THAT game has a fanbase, even after a terribly heartbreaking event in February.

Two words: Nex Benedict.

Seriously, to still support that game, even in light of similar tragedies... That's inhumane.

*sigh*

I know this kind of post may not be your cup of tea, but I needed to get this off my chest. I love this game so much... It pains me to see that a supportive game, alongside its fans and creators, is being unfairly targeted by terrible people.

I stand by what I said in this post. I did my research before making this essay. That said, if there are any inaccuracies in here, I apologize.

However, I will not tolerate anyone who tries to argue in support of THAT game. If they do that, they get reported/blocked.

Sincerely, popart-vvv.

[everybody-loves-purdy]

One of the many things that bothers me about Thistleclaw grooming Spottedpaw is that one of the first things he does is question her loyalty to ThunderClan and her commitment to being a warrior. She confronts him about allowing Tigerpaw to attack Tiny in such a brutal fashion and he begins asking her a series of strawmanning questions. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be the best, the strongest, the most fearless in your Clan? Do you think we should all be medicine cats, mincing around with herbs and feathers and avoiding so much as a nip from a mouse?” When Spottedpaw is unable to answer these questions (because they’re not asked with the intention of gaining a real answer), he then goes on to say that he’s disappointed with what he perceives to be her lack of ambition.

When Spottedpaw distances herself immediately after this argument, Thistleclaw follows her and begins to use self-deprecation to regain Spottedpaw’s trust by saying things like “I’m a squirrel-brained fool who doesn’t deserve your company” and “I don’t blame you for hating me”. He even goes as far as to cower in front of her like a kit being scolded by it’s mother. Despite being in a situation where an apology from Spottedpaw’s end isn’t warranted, she still apologizes to Thistleclaw.

This is what kickstarts a novella full of instances where Spottedpaw second-guesses herself. It’s a shame that this is what the Erins decided was the criteria for Thistleclaw to be considered a cat worthy of going to the Dark Forest and not him goading his apprentice into almost killing a kit or his crazed bloodlust.

It genuinely could have been a fantastic teaching moment if Thistleclaw had actually been called out in the novella as a predator and an adult in this situation had told Spottedpaw how completely wrong this all is, rather than the story trying to steer the reader to believe the only reason he was bad for Spottedpaw was because he trained in hell.

[the-nosy-neighbor]

Missing

There are people missing throughout the story of Welcome Home.  While these instances are mostly brushed off (what are missing people to an incomplete story?), it is a bit suspect that there are this many instances of mention of people we have no real information about.  So, we have about 3 categories:  missing we might still see, missing then found, and missing concept and context.  As with most things, this is complicated by the story still unfolding in front of us, so we might be able to change these around later.  Also, we aren’t sure where each event is happening in the timeline.

Missing we might still see: 

Julie--We have art of Julie’s siblings, but no siblings.  Her story also tells us that they all lived together in a cave in the woods, until Julie moved to the city.  Indications are that we will be seeing the siblings in the next update.  I believe it is possible that the sibs lived in Home at one point and are now missing.  There are no indications of parents or other extended family.

Eddie—there is a discrepancy here, Eddie is known to have a mother who is also a mail carrier, based on information in illustrated pages, and then it moves right on to say she wasn’t given a name and was only mentioned vaguely through the phone.  I assume Eddie calls her “Mama” like any good southern boy.  We have no idea where she might be, or if he has any other people.  Based on muppet behavior, I don’t think they could have missed out on having his mom come by to talk mail or crafts with him, because I feel like they love a parent/child shared experience.  I think he’s humanoid, but I didn’t see that here (and maybe it’s just mostly because of the style of his nose—see Guy Smiley or The Newsman (shocked to learn he doesn’t have a name))

Pro-tip:  When googling “human muppet” be advised that on r/Midjourney, Famous People if They Were Muppets, nightmare fuel abounds.  I love muppets and I might not sleep tonight.  Also, muppets with human eyes.  No.

I tend to assume that muppets with triangle noses are human and rounded noses are monster, but I don’t think that is a rule by any means. 

However, drawing muppets as human is incredibly endearing. 

Missing then found:

Maybe Howdy—We knew that Howdy had a ton of relatives from previous stories he has told, but we did not hear anything about the people who actually showed up.  I am assuming this would be a gag, random new family members showing up, though I wouldn’t be surprised to see the return of Howdo, Youdo, and his beatnik brother. 

Mama Beagle—She is found during Homewarming, but not sure where this commercial falls in the timeline.  She was definitely a big enough role to warrant her own product.  She lives on a farm, which is where Barnaby grew up.  AKA “The Chicken that Crossed the Road”

People we didn’t/don’t know were/are missing:

Frank’s people:  If Frank has any people, we don’t know about it.  His origins were a mystery. 

Sally’s people:  Anyone associated with Sally.  Given that she is a star, who knows if she has “people.”

Poppy’s people:  Poppy:  Comes from a nest of poppies in a hollow tree in the forest.  We don’t know that she has people definitely, but she has described her parents as a “flamingo on her father’s side and a bit of a hen on her mother’s side.”  Secret half-sibling to Barnaby?  It might warrant the size of the two being similar.  I think she is kind of a cross between Big Bird and Clifford the Big Red Dog.  (I looked at those two, and Big Bird isn’t explained and neither is Clifford, beyond that the author thought it would be fun.  I reject “love” being the answer because it was from the later movie.)  We could see people related to her, but I would imagine they will be normal bird size (which is really relative, considering Mama Beagle’s size.)

D—In the ad from the first iteration of the website, D is missing, and I believe it is a character.  I think it is Sunny, but I know it is not canon and Clown said.  I still think it.

I will feel bad about it, if that is the case, because I keep saying it.

Aside from the above, other art that gives this idea:

Theories exist that this image shows Barnaby’s fur as a patch, blood on Wally’s fingers, and his fingers covering a picture of Barnaby on the cover, which is considered to possibly be a missing persons/murder story.  All kinds of things could land you in the paper, though, and the whole image has red shading.

People that go missing throughout:

Eddie is missing during Homewarming, specifically the album.  (cut off on record after his name)

Poppy is missing during Homewarming, specifically that party  (confirmed in her bio)

Non-canon art that gives this impression:

I feel like there was another in this series. I do have an image of Sunny in this same style, like it is from the same book, but he doesn't get disappeared in his.

This one shows neighbors on the dial that have been taped over, as if they are no longer needed. Sinister.