#does anyone have any positive experiences from that ending or are we all having a shared trauma

[xclowniex]

It's honestly a bit scary dating again as a jew.

I've come across so many people with "free Palestine" somewhere on their dating app profiles.

And whilst under normal circumstances, whilst I do have a bit of a visceral reaction to the slogan due to antisemites using it to be antisemitic, I like to be optimistic and assume that a person isn't inherently antisemitic as not everyone uses it to be antisemitic. I've met people who don't want the destruction of Israel and jews who say free Palestine. So I never want to assume.

However, what comes into play is that you typically put any politics you strongly agree with on a dating app so people who disagree with that see it and swipe left. An automatic weeding out. Any politics that you don't even want to entertain a person who disagrees with you on, you put in your profile.

So when someone is wanting to weed out anyone who disagrees with them about Palestine, I imagine doesn't want a peaceful one state solution or land for all, they want israel destroyed and jews to suffer.

Which has led to me the realization of "holy shit I may accidentally end up going on a date with an antisemite"

I've also had the wonderful experience of seeing someone who works at a different company but same office floor who has free Palestine in their profile, who I now genuinely feel unsafe being around. Like yeah there is a chance they will be normal about me being jewish and having family in Israel. But also, idk that as a fact and their bio seems to be leaning the other way from that. So now I make sure to avoid them in the elevator or bathroom as much as possible.

What has been a positive is my lesbian ass went on a first date with a woman and she asked me what I did this morning and I said I went to synagogue and she actually had a normal response. Later on in the date we were talking about family we had overseas and I mentioned I had family in Israel and again she was normal about it! She even kissed me a fee minutes later! This does give me some hope.

[stitchlingbelle]

Why Lucy?

Ok, other people have probably come up with this already, but: we speculate about the Harkers being something supernatural by the end of the book--

--have we considered that Lucy might have been something supernatural from the beginning?

Leaving aside the inevitable Doomed By the Narrative foreshadowing she gets, Lucy begins sleepwalking and more before the Count arrives in Whitby. It is strongly implied that her sleepwalking is something beyond the usual: "there is an odd concentration about her which I do not understand; even in her sleep she seems to be watching me..."

Also before her first encounter with Dracula, her dreams and moods are uncertain--and significant-- enough to feature heavily in Mina's diary: "Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise well..." And again, it is stated that she is unusual: "She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quite odd in one thing: she will not admit to me that there is any cause for restlessness; or if there be, she does not understand it herself."

Mina ascribes Lucy's problems to her innate nature: "Lucy is so... sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other people do..."

Lucy seems more aware of her attacks than Mina later is. (Or that Jonathan was, if you subscribe to that interpretation.) She reports not just the material things she witnesses (hearing the flapping of Dracula in his bat form, as Mina saw his mist form), and not just the fear and nightmares all experience, but "distant voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not where and commanded me to do I know not what..."

And her recollection of her first attack while sleepwalking is neither a blank, like Mina's first, nor a grounded account, like Mina's last-- instead, Lucy reports an out-of-body experience: "my soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me... and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you do it before I felt you."

Finally, Lucy's struggle against her impending transformation is different from Mina's. When Mina begins to turn into a vampire at the end of the book, she can't abide garlic, but Lucy quickly grows fond of it and says "there is peace in its smell". Seward reports that "whenever she got into that lethargic state [in which Dracula controls her]... she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close." Lucy somehow feels and responds positively to the garlic's powers, even as her body transforms (her wound healing and teeth growing, and her vampiric nature attempting to ensnare Art).

Finally, Lucy herself, at the beginning of the novel, believes herself to be unusual: "[Seward] has a curious habit... as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? I do... He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and I humbly think I do."

I think there's an argument to be made that Dracula picked Lucy because she was the easiest for him to reach-- that she was sensitive, not in the emotional sense, but in the sense of being clairvoyant. She can hear him, and therefor be compelled to obey him, before anyone else. The strangeness around her before the Count's arrival isn't just foreshadowing for us-- it's Lucy's own second sight warning her that doom is at hand, and giving her the power to struggle against it for as long as she possibly can.

[spaghettioverdose]

I've never really talked on here about how I figured out my gender, and since this whole egg discourse is going on, I feel like I should.

I'm not one of the trans women who figured out their genders at age 4 and became fully confident of it. Up until around 16 I didn't even begin to consider that I may not be a cis guy and it took me up until almost 19 to fully realise I was a trans woman. Before this, at 18, after feeling particularly shitty for weeks (from what I later learned was definitely dysphoria), I attempted suicide.

I only really started to understand myself once I started hanging out with other trans people on discord servers. My perception of transness was the more mainstream-accepted version (at that time) of "I always confidently knew I was a woman basically from birth and I exhibited x, y and z feminine behaviours at all times etc." which I didn't fit in with, so I always thought "well I can't be a trans woman because that's not me". Being around other trans people, and especially having other trans women point out behaviours I had, and tell me "that's also how I thought before I realised I was trans" helped me immensely.

I didn't get any of the rigid online definitions and examples, nor did I get the perfectly sanitised videos from the handful of trans people who made it on youtube. None of that felt like me at the time. I didn't have any point of reference. I only really understood myself once I related to someone who used to be in the same position. If some trans girl didn't call me an egg, I might still be a completely miserable "cis" guy to this day still, or even dead.

I understand that others have had worse experiences when it comes to this, but we must recognise that the problem in these situations is outing or harassment. The porblem is abuse, and as with all things interpersonal, you can always turn it into abuse. As with all things interpersonal, you have to have some amount of tact and caution.

I don't think we should harass anyone into getting their egg cracked (and this happens vastly less often than people here seem to think but it does happen), but also we shouldn't be constantly agnostic about if someone is trans or not, because in the end not everyone is capable of coming to that conclusion by themselves, and by the time you've "let them figure it out" they might've spent several more years being miserable and not knowing why or they might be dead.

It is also very important to point out that this discourse is only really happening because there is a particular bias against trans women. This isn't a discussion of how to approach the subject, or a handful of people talking about their experiences with it, it's a discourse where one side is trying to problematize another aspect of the transfem community. Notice that people are arguing this when it comes to transfems and not cis gay people or even transmascs. Notice that this website always cycles back to attacking some aspect of the transfem community every couple of weeks.

Do you really think these arguments are being made in good faith? Do you really think it's worth adding to the sea of transmisogyny that is this website and most of the world?

As always, this post is meant for people who are genuinely well-meaning. The dipshits who keep jumping on any excuse they can to harass trans women can go fuck themselves.

[orange-orchard-system]

"dehumanization is the weapon of the enemy and it is wrong to do to anyone" also goes for systems btw.

Dehumanization is the process of denying someone's humanity or personhood; to say they do not occupy the same position as a full human person, and as such, are not to be treated as a full human person. It's often used as the reasoning behind being cruel to someone – "They're not a person like you and I, so it's okay to treat them as lesser.", essentially. It's not always as clear-cut as "this thing isn't a person", nor will those dehumanizing others always realize that's what they're doing, but it's typically an intentional effort to divorce "acceptable humans" from "unacceptable monsters/things/devils".

Dehumanization is a shitty thing to do. It is still a shitty thing to do when the victims are systems and/or the headmates in systems.

Whether you see our selves, or the selves of anyone else, as people, parts, or anything else, you need to treat us like people. Denying us this position of personhood is to deny us rights and respect. To do so is to declare that we are lesser than you, that you don't need to listen to or care about us; that it's okay to treat us poorly and differently. To prevent this, then (and some system punching you in the face down the line, sorry not sorry, talk shit get hit (especially when your "shit" is a key component of fascism)), you must learn to recognize when you are treating us not only as other, but as lesser.

If you force parts language onto all of us with the excuse that it's impossible to be more than one person in a single body, you're dehumanizing systems. If you tell headmates that they're not allowed to use the same vocabulary as real people – whoops, I mean singlets [PT: real people – whoops, I mean singlets / end PT] to describe themselves, you're dehumanizing systems. If you make a rule that introjects are not allowed to go by their own names in your community, but real people – whoops, I mean singlets [PT: real people – whoops, I mean singlets / end PT] who happen to have those same names are allowed to, you're dehumanizing systems. If you deny us the right to have our own religious and spiritual beliefs the second those beliefs involve our plurality, you're dehumanizing systems. If your argument is "this would be fine if you were a real person [PT: a real person / end PT] the only one in your body, but you're not, so it's not", congratulations! You are dehumanizing systems. You are denying them the position of personhood. I do not trust you, you need to take a step back and correct yourself, and until you do that, I don't think you're a safe person for any marginalized group or person to be around, since you've shown yourself to be someone who is all-too-happy to buy into the excuses of why it's okay if we're treated like shit.

I want to make it clear that this isn't an argument against parts language. Some systems or individual headmates don't like to call themselves people and choose to call themselves parts, and that's fine. But no matter the language someone(s) uses for themselves, you still need to treat them like people. You need to watch the way you talk about us, you need to unpack your pluralphobia and sanism, and you need to respect each headmate as an individual with their own thoughts, emotions, opinions, experiences, and worldviews, even when that means simultaneously respecting them as part of a whole. Some systems using parts language is not an excuse to treat them, or any other system, like shit. Respecting how someone wishes to be referred to does not give you free range to disrespect them in other ways.

"But isn't it impossible to be more than one person in a single body?" Personhood is a concept, not a law of nature, as seen by how easy it is to take it away. Therefore, whether it's "impossible" is not only irrelevant, but impossible to determine for certain. Whether or not individual headmates meet some arbitrary standard for personhood*, you still need to show them the respect you would anyone who is the only being in their body. You need to hold your gddamn tongue [PT: hold your gddamn tongue / end PT] if you don't believe it's possible to have more than one person or self or part or anything else in the same bodymind. I do not care about your personal beliefs, have whatever philosophical views you want, just don't make them the problem of anyone else. Don't share your opinion where it's not explicitly asked for, and don't be surprised if you're called an asshole for telling strangers that you don't consider them real people.

* We don't even have a standard, btw! There is no standard! We're still figuring out how to define consciousness, and you think personhood is somehow a concrete, perfectly defined, and universally understood idea? You must be joking if you think it's some sort of law of the universe that one body = one person. Get out of here.

"But (marginalized group/person said) –" yeah, I hate to tell you this, but you can be part of a marginalized group and still a fucking asshole. Especially when it comes to a group you don't know much about and don't interact with all that often, thus leaving your preconceived biased unchallenged. It doesn't become okay to dehumanize a group just because you're not top of the pecking order. Transphobia is still transphobia when it comes from a cis woman; pluralphobia is still pluralphobia and dehumanization is still dehumanization when it comes from someone who is part of a marginalized group.

"But this headmate doesn't identify as human!" Yeah, cool, not an excuse to be an asshole to them or treat them as lesser. Seriously, this is not a comeback. "I think it's okay to treat others badly if they identify in a way I don't like despite it harming no one and obviously being important to them." isn't an own. And neither is the implication that it's okay to treat anything that isn't a human like shit; this just makes it sound like you're fine with animal abuse.

Dehumanization is basic cruelty that borrows from the fascist playbook. It's wrong to do to anyone, and that includes systems and individual headmates. Systems, plurals, and all others who are more-than-one – you don't have to sit and take it. You can tell them off for it. You can tell them this is unacceptable. You can tell them exactly what flavor of shit they're spewing. You deserve the full respect and rights that anyone else is given. Spit in the face of bigots. And may everyone who's ever been dehumanized for being more-than-one find unexpected luck this week – you deserve it for ever having to put up with such bullshit.

[narcissistshandler]

Can you fo reader x JongGun🙏

Like after Daniel broke his arm, he comes to your apartment, you might worried, teasing him or being jealous, and everything happens after that...

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘?

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 gn! reader x park jong gun

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab reader, bottom! gun, anal sex, masturbation (mentioned), jealous behavior, thoughts about hurting and drawing blood (in a romantic way), broken bones, and some sadism/masochism at the end

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 yeah, I didn't like the result of that (this has not been edited so please let me know if there is any mention/hint of the reader's gender)

He was already there when you arrived, even if you didn't notice his presence, one with the shadows of the room. It was as if he purposefully sought to hide and leave you with the uncomfortable feeling that you weren't alone, that there were eyes following you, and that there was something out of place - even if you didn't know for sure what.

And when you flicked the finger on the switch and the room filled with light, you couldn't help but jump when saw him sitting on your bed, with an unusual smile on his face, the eyes darker than usual, and wearing only one of your shirts. There was a tension there that you only felt when you stepped towards him and saw the spark of amusement in the curve of his lips, the excited insanity.

The air seemed to grow thicker, even though you merely tried to engage him in shallow conversation. Which you already had enough experience with to know it was difficult. Gun was reserved, in the best of words. He came and went as he pleased, had what he wanted and then disappeared without even an explanation.

What were you? You asked yourself every damn day. Your circle was smaller than it seemed, you heard his name quite often and it wasn't uncommon to bump into him, he also had the keys to your house, but that didn't make what you had something serious.

You tried not to think about it as Gun kissed you - ravaged your mouth as if he was furious with you, or at the very least, very excited. He was eager today - pulling your clothes off, biting your neck, fighting the fabric of your pants to get to your dick as quickly as possible. He was also talkative, 'I prepared myself for you while I waited', 'I thought about you while I did it', he said, knowing exactly how to tease you and leave you wanting him. 'I came on your bed, on your sheets, on your pillow', and you can almost smell him in your room after those words leave his mouth.

And his ass really was prepared for you, dripping with lube on your bed and his hard dick forming a tent under the shirt he had stolen from your closet.

You felt like a crazy person, like an addict who couldn't fight the source of the addiction. Gun only had to spread his legs for you, and like an eager puppy, you lined yourself up with a shaking hand on the relaxed hole and sank inside, where you belonged. What are we? The question came back to you. What does all this make us? Because you knew it had been months, maybe years, since Gun had slept with anyone else, neither did you.

You grabbed Gun's hands, somehow wanting to force him to answer the question that didn't even come out of your mouth and tried to hold his arms up. You wanted to know if he felt the same way. "Urgh," Gun groaned, and easily fought against your power. The sound full of pain and discomfort sounded alien in his mouth and it completely captured your attention. Only then did you notice that Gun wasn't moving one of his arms, which was swollen and turning red.

Your movements began to slow down, until they almost stopped. "Don't you dare!" He grunted, legs immediately wrapping around your waist and heels digging into your ass.

"You’re hurt, you need to go to the hospital," you argued, not being able to help but worry, but Gun wasn’t having any of it. Even with one of his arms broken, he moved as nimbly as usual and he easily reversed your positions so that he was now sitting on top of you, your cock not even leaving the heat of his hole. "You're fucking insane!" you moaned at the show of strength. Gun looked damn erotic on top of you, riding you, even with one of his arms limp at his side, wrapped in the long sleeve of your shirt.

"As if you didn't already know that," he replied, the smile wide on his kiss-swollen lips. "I came here to fuck, not get medical advice, so shut up and let me work."

But you just couldn't shut up. "What- ah, happened?" You asked through clenched teeth as you watched Gun's long, firm legs sink into the mattress with each rise and fall, his dick hidden under the shirt forming a wet spot on the fabric.

Gun responded to you without haste, releasing disjointed sentences and words as he mounted you, firmly and quickly, successfully taking the breath away from both of you. “Charles Choi,” he said, and then “fight” and a “brat” that he repeated a few times and that you didn’t think much of until you noticed who it referred to – Daniel.

"Daniel broke your arm?" You repeated his words, your fingers digging into Gun's thighs in a failed attempt to slow him down so you could make sure you heard him right.

Gun's smile seemed to get even bigger, and for the first time, you hated seeing him smiling.

"Why? Jealous?" And only Gun would think anyone would be jealous of someone taking blood and breaking someone else's bones. But then wasn't that what you were feeling? Not anger at Daniel for hurting Gun, but jealousy. Jealousy that you wasn't the one to hurt him, leave your mark behind on Gun's body and that Daniel was the one to get Gun all hot and excited.

That strange, possessive part of your mind stirred - you almost wanted to draw blood from Gun at that moment.

"You’re a slut," you accused, not at all denying Gun’s statement. He chuckled and swiveled his hips in a sensual circle, the good hand resting on your stomach. He was teasing you, you realized.

Then the notion hit you, you didn't need to resort to such methods to mark him as yours, after all, only you were capable of having him like this, naked, in your bed, with hot cheeks and fucking himself on your dick. You had already left your mark implanted deep into his body where you doubted anyone else would ever be able to be.

Your feet dug into the mattress, hips jumping off the bed to slam against Gun's ass. The sound he made was downright obscene, what looked like tears glistening in the corners of his black eyes, the psychotic smile still there. He was yours, it was the first time you noticed. He had chosen to come to you, because no one else knew this slutty side of him, because no one else could feed that side, only you.

Gun fell willingly against your chest, moaning and trying to move back against you, hungry, looking for more of your cock, more of the aggression and pain. Pain. One of your hands rested on his back, keeping him lying on top of you and the other wandered, found Gun's long fingers and then closed around his wrist, tightly and then, you pulled his broken arm.

The scream that came from Gun's throat would forever be etched in your memory; his cock twitched and spilled, further soiling the shirt he was wearing.

At that moment, you knew what you two were, complete lunatics who would always find in each other exactly what they needed. There were no longer any doubts.

[genshindsau]

Summary: Scaramouche struggles to accommodate to his place in the harem. It isn't easier when some of the other members of the harem constantly try to talk to him or make him spend time with you. He tells himself he doesn't want to, that he is fine blending into the background and being easily forgotten (is he truly?). Concubine!Scaramouche. Empress!reader

CW: Reverse Harem, cursing, sexual implications, nsfw mentioned but not actually described, mentions of Scaramouche's past (as well as other characters), Scaramouche is rather rude in this and can be degrading to the other members, sexualization, literally just Scaramouche struggling with his feelings, non-sexual nudity.

AN: This wasn't exactly what I originally planned, I ended up including a lot about other characters rather than focusing just on Scaramouche and the readers... oh well. There are also a bit of time skips. Dialogue may be choppy as well, especially towards the end. If its to hard to follow please feel free to let me know.

"I'm just saying, when she does the thing with her fingers…" Childe, as he likes to be called, curled two of his fingers in front of Scaramouche's face. He was wearing a cheeky smile, his eyes glittering as he stared at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as his eyes narrowed at Childe.

Go away. Please. Go away. He kept repeating these words in his head.

"Oh," Childe leaned forward, his chin resting on his palm. "I suppose you wouldn't know."

His words held no malicious intent. There wasn't any pity either. Scaramouche knew that but he still wanted to scream. He also wanted to punch Childe right in his bright, smiling face. He was getting too much enjoyment out of bothering and annoying Scaramouche.

"There is nothing wrong with not defiling myself."

Childe snorted. "Is it really defiling? I mean," Childe shrugged his shoulders. "She is our wife."

"No, she isn't. Neither of us are legally married to her."

"Exactly," Childe snapped his fingers. "We're concubines; Her concubines. We get all the fun."

Fun? What part about being a concubine is fun? Childe is a mindless puppy who will go wherever you ask, do whatever you ask. Even kill whoever you want. He has had the unfortunate experience of seeing Childe covered in blood and a body at his feet. When you appeared, he expected the worse. Expected Childe to be whipped or scarred. Instead, you ruffled his blood-coated hair and said you deal with the clean up.

Why is he even listening to him?

"Look if you really don't want to spread your legs for her," Scaramouche cringed at Childe's words. He had a feeling Childe was making his words as crude as possible to get a reaction from Scaramouche.

He was succeeding.

"Then that’s fine. But you do a really shitty job at hiding the way your eyes linger on her."

"I - I do not!" Scaramouche balked at him, his cheeks heating up.

"Really?" Childe deadpanned.

"I would not consider it! She already has more than enough people who would let her use them. I will not be one of them."

Scaramouche felt like he needed to defend himself. Needed to make himself stand above the others and not be one of the men who succumbs to his position as a glorified body to use. He lasted this long - lasted through multiple masters without ever having to give them his body. He can't allow that to change.

You've never even touched him, his mind whispered to him. Aside from the time you disintegrated his previous collar, you've never laid a hand on him.

Childe quieted for a moment. It unnerved Scaramouche as Childe stared at him. He felt like he was looking into his soul and he almost wanted Childe to keep teasing him. He'd prefer that to how he was now looking at him.

"She's not like that." Childe voiced out. His voice almost stern.

"If you're really not interested, then whatever. That's fine. But don't assume things about her when you haven't even try to understand her. She may be cruel to her enemies but they deserve it. She would never force anyone - never force her concubines or consorts to do anything they didn't want. Whether that is in her bed or in their personal life."

Scaramouche's eyes wavered at the shift in Childe's tone. Childe sounded dangerous right now.

"Why," Scaramouche's voice cracked. "Why would I even want to know her - or understand her?"

"Our lives are dedicated to her. They belong to her, wouldn't you - "

Scaramouche cut him off " - And you're okay with that? Belonging to someone like her. Someone who is part of the Imperial Family?"

Childe cannot be that daft. Everyone knows about the Imperial Family. Knows that no one should trust them. Knows that they are cruel, tyrannical, and would do anything to be the empress. He doubts that you are any different. No, he knows that you are no different.

"Sure." Childe leaned back against his chair, his tone softening now. "She gives me whatever I want. Lets me have some control over my life. Lets me fight. But she also protects those who belong to her. She's stern and callous and can be this terrifying larger than life figure but that does not mean she is going to go down the same path as her family."

"… you can't be so sure of that."

"Just like you can't be so sure that she will turn out like her family. I believe in what I see. Maybe she puts on a certain façade in front of us but so what if she does? She still treats us better than anyone else would."

Scaramouche cant find it in himself to refute anything Childe says. He pointedly ignores the underlying truth in Childe's words. It doesn't matter if you've never laid a finger on him or even so much as spend time alone with him. You're royalty. You're part of the imperial family. That automatically makes you a terrible person in scaramouche's eyes.

Scaramouche was dragged out of his thoughts by the scraping of a chair against the floor as Childe stood up. He stretched his arm above his head before resting a palm on Scaramouche's shoulder, ignoring the flinch that came from Scaramouche.

"If you want to ask anything? Or If you want to try something? Anything? I'm sure she will listen if you ask. You just got to be brave enough to do it." Childe winked at him as walked out of the room, humming happily.

Scaramouche ignored the subtle blow to his character from Childe. He was fine the way he was now. He was fine staying in his room and being an easily forgettable presence (no, he wasn't). He was fine not getting close to you or the others in the harem. Keeping to himself is how he has survived everything he has been through, so he will do what he has always done.

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

Scaramouche kept his eye trained on the plate, ignoring the simmering of anger and something else in his gut that he can't name. It was dinner. He dreaded dinner because he was forced to sit with everyone - with you, even though he is about seven seats away. You barely said a word. If it wasn't for the heaviness in the air he might have been able to ignore you and pretend but your presence always left an uncomfortable weight settling around his body - like your engulfing him; all around him no matter how far away he stands.

He wonders if the others feel it. If they do they don't care; or rather revel in the feeling. It just makes him overly conscious.

His hand clenches around the fork in his one hand, turning pale due to the strength as he has to listen to the incessant chattering of the others. It grates on his nerve, rubbing him raw as he has to listen to the happiness that flits from every voice he hears - yet he doesn't hear yours.

He startles as a hand clasps on his shoulders, a good portion of eyes also landing on him. He blinks a few times barely realize someone was calling him. His eyes land on Childe first because of course it does. He then looks to see Venti (fuck), Heizou (double fuck), and finally Itto (well now the world is just being cruel) sitting across from him.

Childe is leaning back in his chair, two of the legs lifting off the ground. "You really have no filter."

It took Scaramouche a moment to realize Childe wasn't talking to him but rather Itto who had an annoying innocent smile on his face. Venti looked somewhere between interested but closed off. His body curls into itself, his shoulders hunching in such a small move that Scaramouche is sure he is the only one who noticed. In the back of his mind, he wonders if these kind of talks drag up old memories for the other concubine - not that he cared enough to learn anything about the others, he just happened to hear about it in passing. Heizou on the other hand has a shit-eating grin on his lips, teeth bared in laughter.

"I - " Itto gawked for a moment. "It's a perfectly normal question."

Scaramouche tried to refocus, to remember what was said but he couldn't.

"Maybe so but asking at dinner, really?"

"Where else am I going to ask? He scurries off like a little mouse whenever he's spots anyone. It's natural to want to know more about each other." Itto is wonderfully dense at times it seems like both a blessing and curse. Scaramouche wants to curse him out but there is no malice in Itto's tone, just genuine curiosity and his words curl uncomfortably in his throat.

"And asking about the time he spent with y/n? That's getting to know him?" Though it may sound like Childe is admonishing Itto, the smile on his lips says the exact opposite. Childe could careless, he was just enjoying the way this would egg on Itto and annoy Scaramouche.

"Besides everyone know he hasn't spent the night with her - or even an evening with her." Heizou was the one who spoke this time.

"That is none of your business!" Scaramouche sputtered out, his ears turning red.

"Seriously?" Itto turned to Scaramouche with wide-eyes. "Why not?" It was an innocent enough question but Scaramouche wouldn't answer - much less at the dinner table where everyone is basically in love with you and not to mention the fact that you are only seven or so seats separated from him.

"It's no use," Childe shrugged. "I've already asked him about it."

"You didn't ask, you interrogated me." Scaramouche gritted back.

Childe just waved a dismissive hand.

"Why complain. As far as I see it, that means more time for us." Heizou spoke up.

"Well yeah," Itto agreed. "But still… you should be able to experience things with her. I mean, you haven't even spent any time with her? At all?" Itto seemed genuinely curious but all Scaramouche could do was grind his teeth as his eyes narrowed at the plate in front of him. He focus on ignoring the embarrassment that caused him to want to curl up in his seat and well just die. He thinks that would be preferable over what he is currently going through. 

He's thankful that he is sat at the other end of the table. Maybe, just maybe there is a chance you didn't hear any of the conversations, the teasing aimed towards him. Yet he knows you did - that is if you decided it was important enough to listen to, you would.

Without meaning to his eyes flickered down to your end of the table. Your head was angled and he followed where he thinks your eyeline would be and landed on Aether and Tigh-nari who appear to be laughing together about something. You're face doesn't even twitch, your lips don't curve upwards but they don't frown either. It's completely neutral, just like it was when he first met you -  when he still belonged to Ei - but it didn't feel nearly as oppressive.

He didn't understand why. Nothing's changed. Not for him.

"I don't want to." He kept his voice low. "And I do not see how it is any of your business or why you keep bringing it up," He glared specifically at Childe who stared back at him.

Itto gaped at him for a second before he shook his head. "We're not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I didn't mean to imply anything lewd. But… you don’t want to be involved in anything - whether it is with the harem or y/n. You're going to spend the rest of your life here, with her, with us - with all of us, even the people who seem to be the hardest to get to know want you to be comfortable and happy here. Closing yourself off, distancing yourself… maybe you had to do it in the past but the people here,” Itto shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “What I am trying to say is that no one here wants to hurt you or see you suffer."

The last thing Scaramouche needed is to be told this by Itto of all people. He wanted to scream. Wanted to rip his hair out. Most of all he wanted to rip out the longing that wracked through him at Itto's word. It felt like he was peering down into Scaramouche's soul and voicing out everything Scaramouche had pushed down. Tucked so deep inside of him that even he forgot.

When he was younger, that was all he wanted to hear. After he was taken the first time, he imagined  faceless people who accepted him and loved him but as months passed, then years and then he was sold to Ei, he forced himself to get rid of that pathetic yearning. People just weren't like that. People were selfish and cruel.

Yet, he saw it around the harem building and in the palace countless times. Thoma baking treats for the rest of the harem members just because. Venti who stayed up playing the flute for the others who couldn't sleep. Even Ayato - who Scaramouche deemed the most selfish - would cover the other harem members up in a blanket if they feel asleep anywhere. Aether, who knitted blankets in the winter, not only for the harem members but also for servants and staff.

You… you who never raised your voice at your harem members. You who took in a unconventional men - Itto, Venti - and never made them feel less than because of their background. You who carried them to their beds when they fell asleep. You who…

It doesn't matter. None of it matters. 

"You're sheltered. Naïve." Scaramouche forced out between his teeth. "We're not family. We're not brothers. We're all stuck under the whims of a women who could kill us with a thought." His voice increased in tone as he spoke. He wasn't shouting, but he was loud enough to draw attention to himself. "I will never think of myself as lowly as the rest of you do." He squeezed his eyes shut.

He was telling himself to shut up. Screaming at himself inside of his mind but he couldn't stop.

"I won't settle for debasing myself like the rest of you do. Especially for someone who doesn't even love you back."

There was a small cough and Scaramouche froze. It was silent - no one else at the table spoke and he could feel numerous eyes on him. The color drained from his skin as he hastily stood up, throwing the napkin on the table before quickly leaving the table. He didn't even care for protocol or for your dismissal.

As he fled down the halls, tears of anger and embarrassment burned behind his eyes but he didn't let them fall, even as they blurred his vision. The door slammed shut behind him and he collapsed against it, his head thumping against it as he cursed at himself. Cursed at the others for being so kind to him. Cursed at you for not being as horrible towards your harem as he wanted to believe you were.

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

No one spoke to him the next day. Not that he made it easy. He hid in his room, ate his breakfast in his room, stared at the window in his room. He only ever saw the two servants assigned specifically for him. They even brought up dinner for him - telling him that you told them to do that. You probably didn't even want to see his face. He lashed out at the others concubines; concubines you cared about much more than you did him.

It still left an uncomfortable burning in his chest. He made himself vulnerable. He showed too much emotion, not just in front of one or two people but everyone in the harem and yourself. He might as well as starting weeping in front of all them as well.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He blinked, lifting his head from the pillow. He wondered who it was. Servants only knock out of politeness once before entering the room, other harem members just barge in at times. For a minutes he felt a tinge of fear thinking that it was you, but you wouldn't knock either - you had no reason to.

Scaramouche moved to open the door so only a sliver of light creeped through. The first thing he saw was the long red hair, pinned back and the red robe - It was Diluc.

"Can I come in?" He asked softly - like he was coaxing a wild animal. Scaramouche nodded and opened the door further to let him in.

Scaramouche bowed his head, his eyes lingering on the embroidered robe Diluc was wearing. His eyes trailed over the golden patchwork. There wasn't a single stand of hair out of place, everything was perfect. He was perfect.

Diluc's eyes glanced around the room but he said nothing. Scaramouche was expecting an admonishment, something about his bed being dirty or the left over plates on the bed but Diluc's eye's just skimmed right over them.

"I wasn't expecting company." It came out harsher than Scaramouche intended. He had never been alone with Diluc before; barely said a few words to him besides the first few days he was introduced into the harem. Diluc was either  busy, bustling about the harem building or he was by your side.

"I suppose I should have sent a servant or someone to tell you beforehand. I'm sorry if this seems abrupt, I just wanted to… see how you are doing."

"You mean after my outburst." Scaramouche forced out, his voice tight.

Diluc let out a soft, sympathetic sigh. "Yes, I suppose so. Though, I wasn't thinking about it as an outburst."

Scaramouche didn't care. If Diluc was here - all he could assume was one thing.

"So you're here to deal a punishment?"  

"A punishment?" Diluc tilted his head, confusion in his voice.

"I insulted the other concubines. I left before I was dismissed. It's your job isn't it? As the head consort - you deal out the punishments."

"You misunderstand." Diluc shook his head. "Can I sit?" He motioned towards a small couch that was placed in the room. Scaramouche nodded and Diluc sat down, his hands smoothing down his clothes.

"I am not here to give out a punishment. You are not the first to resort to insults or get angry at the others. It is natural that it happens when there are so many of us, and with such different personalities." Even as Diluc spoke, there was a small smile forming on his lips. He almost seems like he is reminiscing as he speaks of the harem members.

Scaramouche takes small steps until he is able to sit across from Diluc, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of them.

"So you decided to what? Come here out of the goodness of your heart." There was distain in his voice as he tried to figure out Diluc's true intentions. "Or are you here to defend the others? Defend y/n? If you are, you can leave. I don't want to hear it."

Diluc just gazed at him, no malice or annoyance in his eyes.

"I am not here to defend anyone. I am here because I wanted to check up on you. I know we haven't had a lot of chances to talk or even get to know each other - that's no ones fault - but, I would still like for you to be comfortable in the harem. Find some sort of enjoyment in the life you are now living."

Scaramouche stared at Diluc, scrutinizing him.

"Why are you all saying that?" He shook his head. "You, Itto, even Childe for fucks sake. All of you go around, stating that I should be happy and appreciate the life I am given." Scaramouche raised from his seat as he spoke. "But all of you - you guys have no idea about how awful this world truly is. How awful it can be. How things can change in a split second. How can you come in here and - and lecture me about life when you and all of the others are sheltered behind the whims of a cruel woman."

There was silence. Scaramouche words continued to float through both of their minds. If he wasn't getting punished, he definitely would now.

"You don't think we're not aware?" Diluc question is so simple and it sends a shiver down Scaramouche's body. There's no heat to his tone and Diluc doesn't appear to be angry. But the way he says it, the small almost pained smile that graces his face, it leaves Scaramouche stumbling over his words.

"I - I didn't mean - I mean…"

"It's okay." Diluc lifted a hand as if to placate him. Diluc's eyes shifted away, as if in thought, before looking back at Scaramouche. "I grew up in a family with three sisters. They were…. terrible. Terrible people. Terrible wives. I would see my brother in laws hiding bruising, hiding their pain. I would hear the comments my sisters directed towards their own husband - comments so degrading and humiliating that even as a young boy, I wanted to curl up and cry just from hearing their words. They would even let others say whatever they wanted. They never defended them. Never did nothing. In fact, sometimes my sisters would egg others on to say even worse."

Diluc remained poised as he talked but there was a shakiness in his tone that betrayed his feelings. Scaramouche's heart clenched in his chest - though, he is not sure why.

"For the first 18 years of my life I grew up around them. Grew up in a family that basically trained me to be a perfect husband, seeing me more as an investment to getting rich than an actual person." A sigh slipped past Diluc's lips. "What I am trying to say is: I know we have different experiences. Everyone in this harem has different experiences when it comes to our time before we entered the harem but try not to let it define how you are going to live the rest of your life. I can't tell you to trust me, or trust the others, or even trust Y/n, that’s a choice you have to decide whether you want to make or not."

Diluc stood up, his movements effortlessly beautiful. He stepped closer to Scaramouche but didn't touch him. "If you do decide to try, you can start with something small. I promise you that, as long it doesn't pose a threat to you or anyone in this palace, it will be fulfilled."

With a small bow of his head, Diluc moved passed him and towards the door. "I hope to see you at dinner tomorrow."

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

Start small. Start small. Scaramouche repeated those words inside of his head before letting out an annoyed, disgruntled sound.

His hands gripped at the strands of his hair, longer than he has ever been allowed to grow it out, as he paced around the room. The only light shining through is the moon and the stars - they are the only one's baring witness to his meltdown.

He doesn't want to. Actually, he does. He just doesn't want to admit it. Admitting it would mean allowing everything he pushed down into the small crevices inside of him would come spilling out. One at a time, slowly, over time until he can't stop it and he is overflowing with all the pain and loneliness that he thought he had moved on from.

He wants friends. He wants to be loved. He wants to be cared for. He wants to do things; explore, paint, learn to ride a horse. He wants it so bad that it makes him sick. He wants to be involved. He wants to believe that he is worth more than the shiny collar that used to be fastened around his neck - signifying that he is nothing more than a prize without a voice, without a say.

Not is, he tells himself. Was. He was nothing more than a prize. But, he doesn't have to be. Not if he decides to at least try what everyone else has been telling him.

But what if it goes wrong?

He can handle being dismissed and looked down on right now. He just stuffs the anger and despair down alongside everything else. But if he opens himself up; allows himself to possibly believe that maybe he can fit in and be accepted for himself, and it all turns to nothing… he isn't sure if he will be able to pick himself up again.

It is either do this one thing or don't do it. It's simple. The choice is simple. Pick one, ignore the other, that is all he has to do. It doesn't even have to be a lot of words, just go up, say what he needed to say then leave. If worse comes to worse, he could say the others encouraged him - that Diluc encouraged him. That would at least get you to think before you decided to lash out and punish him for interrupting you with nonsense.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," Scaramouche groaned as if he was in a lot of pain, a string of profanities leaving him, something he would never do in the presence of others.

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

He stared at the bronze door in front of him, his eyes narrowed. He pointedly ignored the guards who stood at each end of the halls. He also ignored the looks sent his way when he entered the hall that led to your room. He wonders what is going through their mind when they look at him.

That he is desperate. Pitiful.

Maybe that he finally degraded himself enough to be used.

He raised a hand, his hands forming a fist as he prepared to knock on the door. He stilled right before he brought his fist down. What is he doing? What if you're not even in there? What if you just send him away without allowing him to say anything?

Nope. He's not going to allow that. He is not going to allow you to not listen to him when he had worked up the courage to come all the way up to your room - a place he spend his entire time in the harem ignoring.

Instead of rapping his knuckles against the door, his hand grabbed the two handles and pushed the door open.

It wasn't what he was expecting.

Well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but not this.

You're room looked every part like it belonged to royalty but there was something else that left it looking almost cozy. In between all the furnished gold, there was tea placed on the table (two cups) and a half-eaten cake. There was a pale-blue silk robe thrown over the couch which he knew belonged to Ayato. There was cushions thrown on the floor along with a blanket. Leaning on the floor against one of the walls he saw numerous painting - some finished, some not - but none of them look like the ones seen hanging up in the halls of the palace.

He couldn't continue to look around the room before one of your personal servant's drew his attention. The servant startled at Scaramouche's unplanned and borderline inappropriate entrance into the room - a resort building on their lips but they quickly clamp their mouth shut as a voice - your voice - echoes from another room.

"Its fine. Leave us."

For a moment he thought you were talking to him but just as quickly the servant bowed to him, though their face screwed up. Their lips pursed like they were looking at some annoying pest. Since you were still in the adjacent room, Scaramouche felt brave enough to send a glare at the servant.

Concubine beats servant - even servants who work directly under you.

He can't lie, it felt nice to do that.

He was left alone in the room now. His feet were frozen to the floor as his eyes lingered on the open doorway, fluorescent light spilling out and into your bedroom. You were in there. You knew he had entered your room and you haven't told him to get out. Not yet at least.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or did you barge into my room without a reason? Unless you finally decided to give up the whole 'Don't talk to me. Don't touch me.' facade. I thought you'd hold out longer."

He flushed as you spoke. Both from anger and embarrassment at being called out. His feet carried him towards the entrance of the doorway, a resort building on his lips.

"I have in no way come here to spend time with you or be... touched."

"But you do want to talk." It wasn't a question. You seemed to already know why he had stormed into your room and now...

His eyes widened.

He had walked right into your bathroom and there you were. You were in a huge tub, naked but the water and suds covered you from the neck down. You still had your eye's covered as well.

His brain failed him. He couldn't form any words and a redness blossomed on the tip of his ears.

"You're leering."

"I am - I am not." He sputtered.

"Wanna join me?"

"Absolutely not."

You shrugged. "Then you're going to just stand there?"

"I - no I am not. I just came to -"

"To what?"

Scaramouche pursed his lips. His eyes flicker around the room, looking everywhere but at you.

"Diluc," he figured this would be the safest way to start. "Diluc said I should come and talk to you. The others did as well."

He trailed off awkwardly, expecting you to say something to him but you didn't. Instead you just leaned back against the tub.

"I wasn't going to."

You just hum.

"I thought it was a ridiculous idea but I just want to make things clear. I - I am not here to be one of your bodies to use. Or for you to assume that I am going to do whatever you ask me just because you're... you. I've spent enough of my life being surrounded by women who try to dictate everything about my life from what I eat to what I wear.

"I have no desire to understand you or get close to you. But I will apologize for the way I acted towards the others - your concubines and consorts, I mean. They - they are not you and just because I don't like you doesn't mean I should have been so... callous with the others and lashed out during dinner."

He let out a shuddering breath, a weight lifting from his chest as he said everything he wanted to say. He didn't realize just how nervous he actually was before coming into your room. His body feels limp.

You, however, didn't say anything for a short while.

In the back of his mind, he bet you enjoyed seeing him shift uncomfortably, a small sheen of sweat forming on his skin.

"Very well then."

He blinked at you.

"So that's it then." He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

"That's it. Why? Where you expecting something else."

"Well no. I just - you're not angry. I mean at me insulting you earlier and then coming in here and basically saying I'll never," He trailed off, not sure why he was trying to explain anything to you - not when you don't seem to care.

You laugh softly. The sound ringing in his ears. "I was angry but not at what you said about me. You think you're words were insulting? They were the truth. Besides I've been called much worse." You shrug. "What I was angry at was your blatant disregard and disrespect for the others. But it appears that you've changed your mind and realize that you shouldn't blame them just because of your hate for me so no reason to linger in the past."

"You almost sound like you actually care about them." This slipped out before he even realized what he said. Perhaps after what he said earlier, after confronting you, he finds it harder to hold his tongue.

Your lips tighten but other than that you don't say anything. You don't agree or disagree with his statement.

"So you don't love them? Even though all of them seem like they are deeply in love with you."

You don't answer and Scaramouche thinks he screwed up.

"Does love have to be the only reason I take care of those under me? Can't there be any other reason?"

"Selfishness? Control? Pride?" Scaramouche spoke without thinking.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Scaramouche swears he see's your lips twitch. "I may not love them but they're mine. I protect what's mine."

So, he was right about some things.

"So it is pride and ego."

"…"

"…"

You shift in the tub, your head falling back against the marble. His eyes flicker down to your throat, watching as a bead of water travels down your skin before snapping his eyes back to your face.

"Most of them are innocent to the truth of the world." You broke the silence after a minute.

"They know men are deemed lesser in this society but they haven't experiences the harshness that the world can offer. Not like you have or Venti or Diluc."

He doesn't see how this answers his previous questions.

"Do I love them? No. I don't believe I am capable of loving anything. But, I care about them. About what they can do - both for me and for themselves. I don't want them to whither away in a society that takes everything from them and become a shell of who they are and what they want to be in the future."

Your fingers drum against the marble of the tub, a small sound echoing in the bathroom.

"You see me as a horrible, cruel person and in some ways, I would say its true. I don't care about the lives of people outside of this palace - not even the people I am meant to. I don't feel anything when I take the lives of others - whether they are enemies or just people fighting because they have to. Sometimes, I even enjoy it. That alone would have everyone labeling me as cruel and even sadistic and I would agree. However, I protect them, ensure they have a good life because I need to. I need their support. But… the people in this palace - they are my people. I want to keep them happy, keep them sheltered, keep them protected; and I'll do whatever that takes in order to guarantee that."

Your head lifts from where it was resting against the tub. He can't see your eyes, the cloth still covering them, but he can feel your gaze penetrating him. The sudden pressure around him is becoming a constant whenever you decide to gaze at him.

"Now, that includes you too. You were a war prize originally, that much is true. You were a means to insult Ei but now you are one of my people. You may just be a concubine but I don't want you clinging to your old life and your old ways of thinking that you need to isolate yourself to survive."

He hated the way you see through him. This is the most you've talked to him - ever; and yet you read him without a problem. It leaves him feeling naked and bared in front of you, even with all of his clothes still on.

"Think what you want about me. I don't care. But the others, they are good and pure and kind. At least open yourself up to them. Each of them will take you in with open arms and love and care about you in ways you may have forgotten."

Scaramouche wasn't sure how to reply to all that. You weren't being vulnerable or even truly opening up to him but there was something in your words that left him shifting on his feet.

"And if I don't want to?" His voice came out shakier than he wanted. His eyes glued to his feet rather than looking at you.

"Then don't. Spend the rest of your time in the harem alone and miserable." You waved a hand like it meant nothing to you.

"I can make sure your fed and healthy but other than that everything else is you're choice."

[hastyprovocateur]

Mizu, Akemi, Brothels & Bedrooms

Mizu and Akemi's approach to sex (so far) has been very inverse. For Mizu, sex is intimate, almost sacred to the point of inaccessibility. Her pretending to be a man has compelled her far from intimacy in order to protect herself and her secret. On the rare occasion when she does engage in physical relations during her shortlived marriage, she engages in it furtively. She's shy, sweet and submissive. She has very little to no experience and while she enjoys it, she doesn't appear to demand to be in a position of authority while it ensues. She's happy to let go of the reins and allow herself to put in a safe space. Her voice pitches and she doesn't fight to maintain any composure.

Mizu isn't exactly averse to sex. After losing mama and killing Mikio, Mizu just closed herself to the possibility of intimacy. She doesn't intend to romantically engage with anyone or be as intimate with anyone as revenge has become her priority. She now dismisses sex, considering it an act that is void of art or tact. Base. Something that decentres the spirit. Dare I say, she sees it as a facade after Mikio. An act that misguides the participants to consider their bond deeper than it really is. It is parallel to Akemi's first time, where both her and Taigen seem to be proccupied with other concerns, quickly distancing from each other after an act that most would consider to be a paramount of bonding between lovers.

Regardless, Mizu's resolutions haven't killed her intrigue for "peculiarities" as evident in her stint at Madam Kaji's where she (despite her dismissive facade) peers into the windows of pleasure, exploring sutras, bondage and threesomes. With the masculine avatar she's donned on her path of revenge, even if Mizu's resolve grows shaky, she's restricted by the complications that should arise if she goes down the path of any intimacy. Giving her more walls to break through and more walls for any potential lovers to break through as well to get to her tender breast.

In terms of general pleasure, Mizu is shown to be extemely physical and playful. She gets riled over armed combat, her face flush and full of love. To whoever she feels safe and happy with, she gives her all. Whether in bed or otherwise, she'll surrender her body and her sword. Aside from fighting, Mizu is passionate about different forms of art, especially sword making and other creative arts like music. You can call her... cutely nerdy (?) in the sense of her keen understanding of iron work, different fighting techniques, blade strikes, all of which she knows by heart. It can be imagined that a sure way to catch her whims would be to spark conversations about artistry in general.

Akemi, on the other hand, intends all her sexual overtures to have a fixed purpose. She's written as a character who prepares intensely for her ambitions. We see her revising a written speech before arguing her bit to her father, switching to appeasing to his fatherly side by playing the "naive daughter" to get him to agree with her and Taigen's engagement. In ep 4 we see her curating an impish, adulant image of an innocuous sex worker before making Mizu's acquaintance, intending to lower her guard enough to subdue her and bring her to Taigen. She finally goes on imbibe the perfect subservient, loving wife to finesse Takayoshi and thereby solidify her say among other exponents in the Shogun's family.

Her mind is like a self gearing machine in terms of playing pieces to give herself a fighting chance. Sex is a part of this rematch. With sex as a means, it's arguable if she genuinely feels pleasure in the process but she ensures that she's able to pleasure her partners to an end that serves her. With men, it's always about massaging their ego. With Taigen, Akemi initiates sex to be able to coax him into focusing on her and saving their engagement instead of letting him fixate on his recent loss of his hair and honour. In the brothel, she regales Watari, a man who's never won a fair fight, and has become impotent due to his weight, by appealing to his poetic side and using it to flatter him to ejaculation. With Takayoshi, a man subdued by his mother for his stutter and meek ways, Akemi admits to finding his speech impediment endearing, apologising profusely to resume her submissive position as his wife and proceeds to consummate their marriage while encouraging him to recite poetry.

Like Mizu, Akemi's curious about sex in itself and went against her teacher's wishes to explore erotic literature. She's well versed with sexually coloured poetry and easily weaves sex into conversation, using it to talk her partners to orgasm. She has a varied understanding of poetry, an art she uses as a weapon to flatter men, citing Shōtetsu, Minamoto no Shigeyuki and her favorite, Ono no Komachi. A waka poetess writing chiefly in matters of melancholy and passionate love. She's also skilled in all manner of art that are intrinsically ornate but are notorious for being feminine or are used to entertain men such as poetry, koto playing, dancing and calligraphy. An average man would deem such arts lowly but he doesn't consider that such arts can be used to easily lower his guard to his very vanquish without him ever doubting that there was even a ploy in the first place. Akemi wields these talents to her advantage. Sex and fine arts are only a few of the weapons in her arsenal.

Strangely enough, it's not exactly touched upon what Akemi actually finds desirable outside of what she must do to get her way. It can be guessed that she'd be disarmed by anyone who lasers through her simpering girly act, someone who can be valiant and honourable, someone who doesn't weigh virtue and strength through the prejudice of gender, someone who's able to value her in all her intricacies instead of pushing her to be a proper wife or improper whore.

Likewise, I can imagine Mizu wanting the same degree of acceptance. Someone who nurtures her feminine side without alienating her masculinity. Someone who doesn't demonise her appearance or consider her an anomalous product of two races. Her ideal type hasn't been detailed but her bar was really low. She didn't care about Mikio's age or social status or wealth. Akemi was also shown to having a narrow criteria for marriage, preferring Taigen solely because marrying him meant staying in Kyoto, near home. For both Taigen and Mikio, they benefitted from the unhinged cruelty other men could afford, appearing decent by comparison because they did the bare minimum of asking for consent.

It is still very nascent as to what Akemi and Mizu truly desire. Mainly because there hasn't been much room for individual desires. Akemi was already "past her prime" and evading marriage was no option as it was a decision sealed in stone by a girl's father the moment she hit puberty. For a time where women had little say in who they married, managing to get engaged to Taigen was a feat in itself. Her attempts to escape the arranged marriage with the Shogun's son was rendered fruitless by Taigen, Seki and in great part, Mizu. Akemi finally embraced her new married life, making peace with fighting within her means instead of trying to run away from them. This leaves a lot of room for what she'd eventually want for herself in the future. We know a part of her wished to leave with/without Taigen to live on a farm in Kokura but she's still too early in her journey of knowing exactly what she wants but she's constantly figuring things out.

Similarly, Mizu didn't have a say in her former marriage either but she was ready for the obligations it would impose on her, aware that she'd be compelled to conceal a part of her that men wouldn't welcome in their wives. Her masculine side that is capable of fighting like a samurai. Her sword of a soul. With her sworn revenge, aversion to all forms of intimacy and commitment to playing the part of a man, Mizu has become a vessel for all the ill will, prejudice and poor decisions men imposed on her. She doesn't have the liberty to bare herself and engage in fulfilling her desire as she's discovered to like it but the more characters she interacts with, we as audiences can observe seismic shifts in her perception of herself through the people she meets. These experiences serve as guiding lines for developing future desire. Of independent choice.

[gorgeouslypink]

hey pink!

i was hoping you could offer some encouragement and advice to me. basically the entire luckyvoidgirl thing yesterday, i acctually liked her success story, it made sense to me and i even listened to cee's subliminal and my parents ended up saying i don't have to go to this dumb event i was dreading so im even seeing successes with it

the thing was she said something that i can't stop thinking about. she said that a lot of tumblr is just misinformation and that the original blog that brought the void to tumblr was divineangelbee and she was exposed for lying about the void. everyone just copied whatever she said and kept spreading the same stuff she put out but her own experience was all a lie. it really got me thinking about how educated this community is about loa, like the void state and loa is so intertwined. luckyvoidgirl never said she used loa and she did something different but she got so much flack bc the void community on tumblr is so deeprooted in loa, possibly bc of angel. but anyways for a community that is so deeprooted in loa, so many people haven't entered and even worse, so many bloggers have been exposed for lying about their success story. the crazy thing is its so easy to lie on tumblr so the fact that so many have gotten caught makes me wonder how many we haven't even caught and really how does a community that knows loa struggle like this.

idk i just can't stop thinking about this and was hoping for some guidance.

hey love! im technically on break but you're not the only one spiraling so i rlly wanted to answer this.

first of all, i want to say she's just lying and this community is great but i can't. the truth of the matter is she is right. the person who brought the void to tumblr was @divineangelbee and she was the one who went around saying it was super easy and anyone can do it and she was and is still pretty much the blueprint for how a lot of voidstate tumblr thinks, but she was exposed for harassing her friends to enter the void for her. since then, many other bloggers who basically parrot the same thing as her have been exposed as well.

however i want to highlight something here. just because someone preaches something and it doesn't work out for them doesn't mean it's false. this is a super old argument, like back when bloggers like cleo and raven were super popular but people were arguing abt Sammy Ingram. basically she was a big affirm and persist girlie and people were going at her for saying this but never losing any weight (her main goal with manifestation was to lose weight but she never did and just gaslighted anyone who pointed it out, saying they were bodyshaming her). while something was off for sammy (maybe she didn't persist or maybe she just didn't bother doing her method at all), her method worked for so many people. there's boatloads and boatloads of success stories from her videos and methods. so someone can be lying about the void and still be giving legit advice.

however, the void state community on tumblr DOES have a lot of misinformation. ive seen people claim the void state is just SATS, just alpha state, theta state, delta state, it's acc just a placebo for you to guarantee manifestations, and all sorts of nonsense. now there's a new addition, people who tell you to pay money and they'll get you into the void state. it's honestly crazy how hard the community went against the luckyvoidgirl but not some of the other stuff i see here.

but anyways, what do you do?

you need to realize that you entering the void has nothing to do with the state of the void community on tumblr. people lying abt entering the void doesnt make the void a lie, it makes them a liar.

ive been in that position where i hailed bloggers and felt attached to this community so drama here messed with me internally. you shouldn't be doing that. please read my Doubts post where i talk about overcoming this and also provide many sources of proof that the void is real so that you don't need to rely on tumblr to know that:

also it helps to find a few reputable sources. i just wanted to give a shout out to someone rn: @voidprincessblog

her page is the page i would recommend to everyone. you can tell the amount of research and effort she puts into every post and you can trust her to be a reputable source on info.

im going to attach this other post of mine for you as well:

i wish you the best of luck on your void journey and hope this helps! 💟

[mesetacadre]

any thoughts on left unity? saw the term in the bio of some Solarpunk blog

The most pressing matter to determine in regards to left unity is, in my opinion, what is "left", more than determining what "unity" is. Also, of course you'd see that in a solarpunk blog, they're all about labels that look good and progressive.

Are we talking about just marxists? Include the anarchists? councilists? eurocommunists? social-democrats? DSA types? anyone to the left of free market conservatism? I am aware in most cases, when people call for left unity, they generally mean communists of all stripes, anarchists, and maybe the left-most currents of social-democracy. But this illustrates the first issue with the term, and that's that leftism is not a coherent category and that it's based on vibes and a general undefined notion of "progress".

The left-right axis in politics comes from the first bourgeois democracies, in which there was a "left", free-market, or "progressive" party, and a "right", protectionist, "conservative" party. They represented the two main fractions within the newly in power capitalist classes. When other parties started to emerge, such as the first social-democratic parties (SPD, PSOE...), they kept with the left-right axis and positioned themselves to the left of the main "left" party, they claimed to represent the common man, that sort of thing.

Fast forwarding through a lot of history, these labels and the vast set of beliefs they categorize have stuck to today. But they are still labels based on the "centrist" consensus of the bourgeois parties. So it is both inappropriate and very hazy. To find the rest of the limitations of this "left" category, let's look now at the "unity" part of this slogan.

Which kind of unity and under which pretenses are these leftunitarians calling for, exactly? Are they talking about a united front kind of strategy? That has historically been proven to be ineffective and harmful. Any appeals to a common goal are nonsensical, an examination of the objectives of the currents these people pretend to "unite", reveals fundamental differences not only in end goals, but in the conception of specific tactics and ways to work.

In my offline experience organizing in a "united" way with "leftists", there has been, some times, an unsalvageable conflict in matters of tactics. For example, my marxist-leninist party prioritizes the security of its members, and if a given action is considered too dangerous in relation to the context, it is not done. However, anarchist and trotskyist groups place security on the back burner, displaying an admirable but very dangerous boldness when it comes to placing themselves and others in harm's way, for the sake of achieving the flashiest thing that will look good on twitter. How, exactly, is unity achieved in these situations? We would gladly collaborate if the others agreed to place more importance on security, but I'm sure the others have the same perspective on us placing more importance on their concerns. Experience also shows our approach is reliable in moments of high tension and danger, and theirs isn't, this is not a matter of opinion.

And this is the other and largest issue with the "left" category. There is close to no common characteristics besides opposition to the current system and a hazy agreement that people should be treated better, only the latter condition separates this category from fascism. Opposition to a common enemy does not make a sufficient condition for any kind of substantial cooperation. Actual, practical efforts are materialized through an understanding of what you want the alternative to be, not through an opposition to what's already there. This last sentence in itself is a matter of contention within the "left".

Left unity is a superficial slogan, so superficial that some can find it just as easy to cooperate with fascists, or to side with imperialists and genocidal settler colonies.

This is not to say cooperation in general is impossible. Like I said in the example from my experience, those differences only become unsalvageable in some cases. Especially in countries where the "left" category is characterized by fragmentation, collaboration with other currents is inevitable and necessary. What's at issue here is the elevation of this occasional cooperation to a defining principle of one's activity. Left unity is superficial and dysfunctional, cooperation within the "left" in some contexts is necessary.

[posletsvet]

Thoughts on Geto Suguru's Psychology Pre-Defection

There's something that I've been meaning to talk about for a while now, and that is Geto's apparent tendency to conceal his negative impulses that allows for, in my view, faulty interpretations stating that he was faking his righteous beliefs all along just because assuming high moral ground gave him a sense of superiority and fed his ego. Meanwhile I would argue that, on contrary, this habit is more indicative of Geto's insecurities and heightened sense of self-awareness.

My thoughts on this underneath the cut, but beware: it's going to be long!

To begin with, I think there are two major factors playing into the misconception that I mentioned. The first one boils down to prejudice forcing people to look upon younger Geto through the lense of a person he would go on to become. The kind of cautious logic that says that a deeply empathetic, caring highschooler couldn't have turned into a murderous cult leader preaching the merits of genocide, and thus seeks ways to dehumanize him from the very beginning (because that's a terrible concept to wrap your mind around, I agree). And the second factor being... well, that Suguru's behaviour really does come off as fake at times.

We experience 'negative' emotions as naturally as 'positive' ones, and despite some of them are conventionally accepted as 'good' whereas others are painted as 'bad', no emotion is inherently harmful or invalid; they all are a part of what makes us human. While it's undoubtedly a chilly and ominous concept for someone to be completely devoid of any positive traits, just as unnatural it is to display positive responses only. Perfection is stored away at museums, no living breathing human being can go through their life without being affected by negative impulses or thinking. But more often than not negative emotions are condemned and stigmatized (in the end, we still refer to them as 'negative'), and self-consciousness can make one ashamed or guilty of experiencing them. The end result of this would be trying to hide your feelings under one more appealing appearance, creating a warp between what's intuitive and what's manifest, an inadequate emotional response.

Gojo (at least in his teenage years) is widely outspoken and doesn't hesitate to outwardly express himself, whether verbally or via body language. It probably takes root in Gojo's upbringing: he was spoilt rotten, revered for being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his every whim indulged and tended to. There simply wasn't any need for him to try and make a good impression by faking docility and emotions that are more pleasant and easier to digest. Gojo may be boisterous and bratty and obnoxious, but he isn't trying to 'trick' anyone into thinking he's better than he really is, and this paints a more sincere, believable picture to the audience.

On the other hand, Geto's emotions, partly due to his more solemn demeanour, are often toned down or consciously concealed. For instance, when Riko manages to strike a nerve in him, his response is to immediately plaster on mawkish 'customer service' smile to not give away his annoyance. This scene is especially interesting to me because of how Amanai's reaction gives voice to the audience's concerns. Referring to Suguru, she says, 'You look like a liar!' -- and by doing so calls him out on his tendency to mask negative emotions. Intuitively, she can still read his feelings in his body language, in the delay in his expression rearranging itself into a smile, and so can the viewer. We know he's annoyed, and his words about having no intention to harm Riko don't exactly align with how he behaves (even if in a playful manner) a moment after saying them. It creates a tangible contradiction between what he says his intentions are and what his actions speak of, between the appearances and what lies behind them. And this contradiction raises suspicion, in a way that if somebody's making an effort to hide something, then there must be something to hide.

In retrospect this doubt might seem reinforced and justified. I see how it's easy to fall into thinking that Geto, having become a criminal who's done unspeakably cruel things and who backs up his delusional ideals with bigoted reasoning, should've been hiding darker parts of himself behind all those fake smiles and talks about righteousness. But pinning the blame on Geto alone by claiming that he had violent tendencies to begin with is essentially disregarding systematic issues that the story strives so much to convey to the audience. Holding innate individual qualities accountable for the catastrophe is basically the sort of thinking that the higher-ups display, whose main strategy for dealing with problems is public scapegoating and disposing of every single threat to the current order by giving out one death sentence after the other. I don't think we as the viewers are supposed to reach the conclusion that Suguru is at fault for what happened, which is not to say he's faultless, nonetheless the narrative goes to great lengths to make us sympathize with him, not the other way around.

Now, there's really a handful of ways in which Geto's character seems to contradict himself. He shares overspilling empathy for the people around him, that is his character's core trait, but that very empathy spells out his downfall when it degrades into resentment and hate. He displays a largely considerate and sympathetic demeanour, but he's first introduced to the audience as someone who backhandedly bad-mouths Utahime for being weak. He's one half of the strongest duo, but whereas Gojo is a natural-born genius, Geto evidently struggles with his powers. His entire career as a curse user is based on the mentality which justifies the means to an end, but reaching the end goal is impossible for him as he is, Geto himself as much as admits to it during his last conversation with Satoru. He sets on his wild-goose chase for power, but ends up stagnating to the point where his use of Curse Manipulation in the Hidden Inventory Arc is much more inventive and creative than in Jujutsu Kaisen 0. The list goes on, but you got the gist.

To live for the purpose of being yourself. And for that goal, Geto could only continue to pursue his twisted dream, drowning himself in a curse that lies in the gap between ideal and reality.

I believe this to be such a poignant phrase when it comes to Geto's characterization because of how well, in my view, it encapsulates the conflict of his character -- or, if you will, the contradiction of it. It succinctly expresses his outlook on things, where he views the world how it's ideally supposed to be rather than how it realistically is. I've actually somewhat already elaborated on this in my very first rambling on here:

To me, Geto seems to be a type of person who needs something to guide him, some clear-cut ideal to make it possible for him to navigate through his life. He is pedantic in that sense: the sharp outlines of his views define his surroundings, the very way he looks at things and perceives them. He needs everything to fall precisely in line with his own set of ideals, which seems to be quite verified and well-adjusted within his mind, like a strict and refined concept he constructed for himself, like a routine he's used to following out of pure principal. His own belief system being so defined, it's that which makes him indulge in excessive discourse on the subject of morality and responsibility, like he's patiently laying out the basics in front of a disobedient child to help them wrap their mind around some fundamental truth that is so obvious and natural for him.

In a way, Geto concealing his negative emotions is not a false front put up against scrutinizing looks that could reveal his 'true nature'. Quite the opposite, I think it speaks more of his well-meaning intentions. When trying to change the way things are, start at yourself, and I guess this is the principle Geto's trying to apply here. By following through his own ideal, Geto does his best to be an upright person he believes himself obliged to be, whether that means forcing himself to absorb curses or putting on a customary smile. It might be juvenile and wishful thinking on his part, probably akin to 'fake it till you make it', but it's important to keep in mind that at that time he was still but a teenager. Moreover, he was put on par with somebody as praised within jujutsu society as Gojo, he must've felt on top of the world, too entranced by their warm spring of youth to care too much about the occasional slips. With Satoru by his side, I imagine Geto could afford to cut some slack and participate in the mischief. Later we see post-defection Geto drop his frivolous facade only when he's entirely alone -- another hint at how Gojo was really the only person Suguru allowed himself to confide in, that is untill the SPVI put uncrossable distance between them.

While I do say that Geto's intentions are well-meaning, the way he positions himself actually reveals some quite problematic aspects of his mindset. Namely, his attitude towards non-sorcerers, whom he clearly sets into a different category from himself and his fellow sorcerers. Regular people lack crucial understanding, they are weak because they are helpless, therefore they have to be shielded from the source of harm. This is a largely patronizing concept of empathy, since it's based on the notion that the 'weak' are inherently inferior to Geto himself and others involved in jujutsu society. It's interesting how it's reflected in Geto's insistence on the necessity of curtains. The use of curtains furthers the extent of non-sorcerers' ignorance, they never learn how to stay out of harm's way as they are deprived even of as much as their perception of the existing danger. It reminds me of how a parent would brush a child's concerns aside because they're too young and naive and do not need to be aware of adult life's hardships. Just like Geto's paternalistic outlook, it does not come from malice or negligence, it's just an attempt to keep someone less experienced and skilled safe. Nonetheless it's harmful as it puts that person in a position which denies them agency.

In my view, Suguru's fake smiles are an extension of his acute sense of responsibility. In front of those over whom he assumes responsibility, he presents himself as calm, collected and dependable as if it's supposed to reassure them. It's his job to protect them and make them feel safe, so there's no need showing them his own struggle. Even if such thinking is condescending, it's not in any way malicious. Geto's entire character arc would be simply non-existent if he wasn't completely genuine in his sentiments.

So why do I talk about Geto's insecurities when first introducing the topic of this post? Well, I'm about to take a deep dive into the field of speculation and theories and finally get to the point why I'm writing all this in the first place (took me long enough, lmao). There's also a reason why I brought up Gojo's upbringing when talking about his personality and how it contrasts Geto's. You see, like Satoru's way of dealing with his emotions can be linked to his childhood experience, Suguru's behaviour might also give us some clues about the circumstances he grew up in.

The more I look into it, the more convinced I become that Geto was in one way or another exposed to emotional trauma in his childhood. Remember when I mentioned inadequate emotional responses? While being one, smiling in reaction to stress may act as a defense mechanism of sorts, shielding the person from the chronic nature of the unpleasant experience. It also may serve as a way to avoid alienation by others who are not privy to the source of your distress or are not comfortable with it. Affiliative smiles are motivated by social factors, it's a tool used to create and maintain social connections. Human beings are hardwired to connect with others, feeling alienated by the people around us causes us great pain.

The thing us, we must assume that Geto is relatively new to the jujutsu world in the flashback arc. Given his non-sorcerer background, chances are he was the only one in his immediate surroundings with the ability to see and exterminate curses. There couldn't have been a way for him to confide in someone with his concerns and fears born from interacting with something only he could see. So I assume that eventually that resulted in Suguru developing an unhealthy habit of masking his emotions before the ones he cared about. And as over time he grew more aware of his abilities and got a grasp on how his CT works, I imagine Geto committed to exorcising curses in order to protect ordinary people from them -- all by himself. This, in turn, must have solidified that conception in Suguru's head which ultimately othered him from the people around him and put them in a position inferior to him since they were the ones depending on him and his powers.

As Geto should've mostly kept to himself, I also see how he might have grown heavily reliant on his analytical mind. Overthinking is a habit developed early on in life as a way to wade through feeling uncertain or unsafe. It's an attempt to make sense of confusing reality by applying an analytical lense to it and compartmentalizing it into neat, easily understandable categories. And also a way to regain sense of self when you find yourself in a situation you otherwhise have little to no control over. And while over-analyzing can create a sense of security, it may also interfere with a person's emotional responses. I guess it's something that could be applied to Geto, too, because for such a self-reflective character he always struck me as someone with oddly little regard of his own feelings.

As a side note, I like how Geto's tendency to over-analyze things is shown in that one scene when Yaga's briefing him and Gojo on the upcoming mission. Suguru's clearly presented as someone who's very mindful of how the world around him works. Understanding helps him assign meaning to different aspects of life, and he relies upon it heavily. Also, as someone who's been uprooted from his former society and introduced instead to an entirely different world, I guess it's important for Geto to fit in. Him being highly knowledgeable about such essential details is, in my view, indicative of such effort on his part. Whereas Satoru simply does not care about such details, the reality makes sense to him as it is as he was born perfectly fit into it.

Last but not least, Geto's infamously guilty of a dichotomous, or black-and-white, outlook on things. This is the all-or-nothing mentality that leaves little to no room for nuance and does not allow two opposite statements to be true at once. It's a common cognitive distortion that manifests immature thought; a rigid mindset more often than not bordering on extreme. Meanwhile the very foundation of Geto's downfall is the inability to adapt to the complicated reality which doesn't align perfectly with his idealistic vision. He ultimately failed to wrap his head around the world with grey areas, his black-and-white thinking thinking prevented him from doing so.

The development of such maladaptive personality traits has been repeatedly linked to the effects of childhood trauma. If the environment which a person grew up in was traumatic and chaotic, black-and-white thinking might have given them a sense of control through rationalization. That's why a mentality which doesn't allow for nuance and doesn't reflect life in its intricate complexity comes off as childishly simplistic. Seeing the world in all-or-nothing terms in some way means reverting to your inner child. And this is actually something that Shoko accuses Geto of during their brief conversation in Shinjuku. In his thinking Geto doesn't grow past his traumatic experience, whether it was his parents actively abusing his abilities for their own gain or the ache of being alienated at such an early age.

If the nature of Geto's relationship with his parents was abusive, it would also explain his altruism. Suguru goes out of his way to express his concern for well-being of those around him, and he does genuinely care, but all the while it could be a way for him to tend to his own unsatisfied needs by helping others. He seems to be highly attuned to others through his empathy, but also somewhat has trouble advocating for himself, resulting in harmful patterns of self-sacrifice or self-neglect.

It's true, there is a lot of contradictions housed within Geto's character, which are evident in his mindset and his actions. But I don't believe this to be due to sloppy writing, on contrary -- it's the kind of writing that speaks through detail and nuance and invites the reader to ponder why is this or that character the way they are.

[nights-at-crystarium]

i just wanted to pop by and gush about how incredibly well written vivi is because GOD. his story unfolding has made me reconsider several story beats about my wol and thats an amazing thing

theres two things that i think uve done especially well with his storytelling, being that vivi feels like an almost complete enigma to the reader, despite how intimate this story is, and the fact that vivi feels incredibly human - almost TOO human to be comfortable with

so to elaborate on the first point - i think a lot of us (and certainly i can) echo thancreds sentiment that he doesn't know vivian rell, because as intimate as this story can get with his pov, in the end, much like someone you'd meet in real life, we don't know much about him before the point we meet him, and any glimpses we get just signal that theres so much more to him than we get to see. and as much as we DO know about him, i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering. to that end i really like how enigmatic uve made him from a storytelling perspective, because it makes him feel so much more real!!! i honestly look forward a lot to learning more fragments (heh) of him and slowly piecing together a puzzle of him as the story goes on. i just want to rotate him in my head lol

but also, this does segue into my other point really well, which is the fact that vivis position as wol really seems to wear on him, and he seems for lack of a better word, completely exhausted! i know (myself included) write their wols with a trait of an almost unbreakable, iron will, which is very much still true in vivis case (again, anyone who gets to the point of shadowbringers without flat out giving up is incredibly strong by default) but showing him at his wits end, exhausted with the burdens of a hero, someone just so throughly *done* with what is, realistically, a pretty shit job is well... yeah! of course he is! he's only human, and he's what, saved the world 3 times now? seen countless die before him, powerless to save them, of course he's numb. the fact that the most defining experiences of the first for him are filled with mostly such... benign experiences, and that the major, climatic moments of shadowbringers get as much fanfare as a forlong gaze, or a like. him hanging out with his fairy bestie is such a cool storytelling decision. (also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot) basically, what i've been gushing about is the fact that vivi feels very much like a whole person, and is probably one of the most well realised wols ive ever read about. and his relationships with the world leaders, and this impossible burden hes forced to shoulder has gotten me to reconsider how i write my wol, because yeah! any hero might be strong-willed and resilient, but theyre still human, and the burden of a warrior of light is maybe, a little too much for anyone to bear.

i hope u could at least make something out of my rambles, but honestly to sum it all up i am incredibly captivated by vivi. i originally read fragments because i like ANY wolgraha content but now, i come back almost exclusively to see how vivi's story unfolds, and how graha eventually comes into the fold too. hes such a fascinating character, and i think youve done an incredible job of creating a well rounded hero, full of humanity!!! (also, if you want, feel free to post this on ur blog!!)

I think I shat myself like 5 times while reading this (positive)

Vivi being an enigma wasn't really part of the plan. We have a pool that's his lore, things I wanna tell, and a bottleneck through which it has to go. The comic format forces me to consider what bits of info to deliver when, there's only so much I can tell at a time. One deliberate choice I made is completely burn the bridge between ARR and ShB, skip, leave it empty. That already sparks questions when we see a different Vivi at the beginning of ShB (and gives me leeway, time to write with more nuance, I didn't Think about HW-SB in such scrupulous detail as ShB).

I wanted to tell a primarily ShB story from the start, but had less ambition, and planned to condense the angsty bits that you're reading nowadays into an infodump told by Vivi to no one (to the reader). Changing the receiving party to a tangible character who's eager to learn (Exarch) made the info easier to digest and anchored it in the world. This change, fwiw, happened in like 2022 while I drew the ARR arc, saw the warm reception, and got more excited about my thing. I constantly learn and try to improve, writing's a new toy that brings me tons of fun.

So, when I learned the new trick - telling things through other characters - I thought, why not make everyone slightly wrong, or rather, with a specific snapshot of Vivi in their head. Same happens irl, people only know the version of you that they're exposed to, the only person who knows the full and real you is you.

That brings me to the next point, why Vivi feels so human: I made him not as a wol/hero, but a guy I wanna ship with Exarch, his foil. Obligatory note it was dumb of me to ignore Emet's existence in that case, but that's already changed. Exarch denies himself the simple human joys, he plots his own fucking death, so I thought I'd give him a guy that teaches him how to enjoy being alive again. That was THE foundation of Vivi, his core. He's a manic pixie dream boy.

Then I started asking how and why: why he falls for Exarch specifically instead of ARRRaha? He's confident, selfish, casual (these traits are what Exarch lacks), emotionally intelligent, where did that come from? He must've had an utterly normal life and loving family before he became a hero. He grew up being appreciated and happy. OH, then his ass must LOATHE the current situation because he can't go back to that normal life! So on, so forth.

i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering.

This's me carefully dropping the breadcrumbs and hoping that you notice them, and you go HOLY SHIT BREADCRUMBS, this's so validating ;w; <3 This's overtly called a story hook, though I prefer "door". So far this story's only opened doors, as in hinted at more stuff without immediately showing it. I love it when questions get delayed answers, when you get time to stew on it and build up anticipation, then, when the door finally closes, it's much more satisfying. I keep in mind all the doors I've opened, if something provokes a question, it's by design.

(also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot)

You're 100% correct!! I'm not retelling the canon ShB story from a default wol pov, this's a custom thing focused on ships, therefore anything that doesn't contribute to said ships gets cut. You may read what's NOT shown as what Vivi doesn't pay attention to.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, this gave me so much motivation like you wouldn't know ;//////;

[wellmetmat]

There's a post from a couple of years ago which I was reminded of and wanted to add to today, about nobody wanting to take the supplicant role in courtship, but it's unrebloggable due to some constraint the OP put on it, so I'll just quote my bit:

Being attracted to someone is distressing. I think the largest part of it is hunger to know someone (?); but when you can’t get to know them well, it ends up a stunted obsession: all that drive-to-know - enough to build a deep, detailed model of another personality - chewing over scraps of phrases and trivial actions, until you’re snappishly bored with your own mind. Your skin feels hungry and there’s nothing you can do about it: “touch starvation” is a phrase that comes to mind. The person’s absence and their presence both hurt: absence obviously, presence because once you’re there you find that there’s still distance, you still miss them. It’s rather like homesickness. Courting someone is wretched. It’s frightening and humiliating and full of agonising waiting periods and jarring mood switchbacks. It feels something like being dragged along on a fishhook, with the line attached to another person’s little finger. Liking someone more than they like you is a position of low power. The incentives are to be servile. You have nothing to bargain with: whatever they decide, you agree to with a smile. You always try to sound happy, because that’s what’s most appealing. You give up on areas of confusion instead of trying to understand, because asking questions annoys people and any annoying act pushes you closer to the cliff-edge of losing them. Any small disagreement feels like a large risk, so you distort your own opinions a bit. You can’t be spontaneous; your inner voice is always tallying accounts: how many days since the last message, too few, you mustn’t bother them yet / how many days since you came up with something interesting, too many, they may forget; don’t intrude so much, but simultaneously what have you done for them lately, how can you provide value to justify remaining in their life. It seems bad that we’re like this. I don’t imagine humans are especially badly formed or anything, it’s probably just as subjectively rotten for every animal that does courtship displays. But if anyone eventually makes robots with emotion-like motivational systems, they shouldn’t include anything like attraction. It’s so silly.

I feel like resurrecting this today to celebrate being out of it. In the last two weeks, somebody has given me the double gifts of liking me and of having the generosity to say so, and show so. All I want to do is be glad and be grateful, and try never to cause this person to experience anything described above.

But I stand by the description, it is a correct description, and we are so badly made it is infuriating. @nohoperadio's good post on the tragic stupidity of pain incidentally also works as a discourse on eros: if there'd been any intelligence involved in the design process, distress signals would come with an off-switch! (Hence my blog tagline.) But instead, evolution is a pitiless idiot, love is humiliation, nonviable attachments take years to starve to death, and there is no moral of the story. Absurd. A baboon could design a better emotional constitution.

Delightfully, this week ACX introduced David Pearce ("For centuries, philosophers have praised suffering as a necessary part of the human condition. For decades, David Pearce has told those other philosophers that they are bad and wrong"), who is doing his best to make a better emotional constitution available, and I approve of such a project so highly that it's been necessary to stack new levels of approval above my previous maximum to encompass how right he is. It's really exciting that any intelligent and active person considers progress of this sort possible and is working on it.

[shellforbrains]

okay, strap in, here we go.

i think i & a lot of other people went into Apology Tour expecting Stolas to be at different point in his character development then he actually is. but that development is definitely still coming!

a deep dive into where Stolas currently is at character wise with insights from my own personal life experience.

in this deep dive into where he currently is, i want to use what i personally have experienced & witnessed in my own life as a guide. bc if i'm being honest, after i had time to mull it over, looking at Stolas in this episode was both like looking in a mirror & also like looking at some of my own family members who i have tried to correct on their own microaggresions in the past.

now i want to preface this by saying that i am white. i will not be speaking on this from the perspective of a POC. i am speaking on this from the perspective of someone who has had to go on a similar (but obvs not as extreme) journey that Stolas is on, and as someone who has seen people i love vehemently deny their problematic actions when i have tried to tell them how harmful they are & how hard it is to actually argue with them about it.

and i'd also like to add that i am not trying to shit on Stolas with this & say that Blitzø did nothing wrong in their arrangement ever or in Apology Tour. Blitzø is also on a character arc of his own & growing as a character.

both he AND Stolas continued to suck at communicating this episode, & it wasn't anyone's sole fault there. i'm focusing less on their conflict (though of course i will make reference to it) & more focusing on where Stolas currently is in his journey & how him acting the way he does in AT is... not far off from reality, honestly.

even if it's painful to watch at times, i do have to commend the writing there haha. bc it's pretty fuckin' spot on.

okay with all that out of the way, let's get our hands dirty:

the description of the episode itself confirms that Stolas is "still not quite being self-aware enough at times" & boy did they hit the nail on the head here lmao.

i think most people will agree that Stolas still has a LOT to learn about the race/class difference & the power imbalance between he & Blitzø, but even still, some were expecting better out of him in AT than what we got. myself included.

but let's look at FM from his perspective:

he's off his meds & obviously went into that night with a very black & white view of the possible outcomes: either Blitzø returns his feelings & they'll be dating by the end of the night, or he's been keeping Blitzø against his will & is a monster. no room for shades of grey.

and when Blitzø (understandably for multiple reasons) mistakes this basically out of nowhere declaration of feelings as a form of rp, Stolas (very understandably) gets his feelings hurt. he shuts down & stonewalls.

he doesn't see any shades of grey when Blitzø chases after him, says he needs a minute to think, makes reference to his feelings being played with, or the fact that, while aggressive, Blitzø was trying to talk things out with him. Stolas only hears the yelling and (again, understandably) gets triggered.

ALONG WITH, it seems, only hearing the "everything you've put me through, you rich, privileged asshole" comment & the "treat me like one of your butler imps" comment. which, if i'm being honest, i think ALSO really hurt his feelings, based on how he ends up acting the next day in AT.

here's where my personal experience comes in, so let's tldr my story real fast:

i was raised in a fairly privileged position & was basically brainwashed into far right ideology from a young age at the private school i attended. trust me, i went on a WILDASS journey to unlearn some of the craziest & most vile shit that had been hammered into my head since i was a little tiny child. it's a tough journey, too, that's filled with a lot of ups & downs.

part of what makes Stolas such a special character to me is seeing that journey reflected on screen with the good, the bad, & the ugly. which is also why i get very frustrated with fans that want to ignore the bad & the ugly parts of Stolas' character & journey.

bc, yes, while he is a fictional character, it is always important to hold oneself accountable. even though i am a completely changed person from who i was all those years ago, i know that even at 33 there are probably things i still need to unlearn that i just haven't stumbled upon to challenge me yet.

the journey that Stolas is on is not a single switch flip or a short, easy one. nor should it be treated as one. however, i think it's important to dive into these things and see where it's coming from, even if it shines light on the bad & the ugly in a way that some people may not like.

now with my personal experience in mind, & how Full Moon went from Stolas' perspective, let's finally address that painful exchange that happens the morning after Full Moon.

emotions are still high, neither of them has had time to really process, Stolas is still very deep in his own feefees, and those feefees are HURT.

Blitzø, in his mind, has rejected a relationship with him. as well as accused him of being a racist/classist, something that Stolas does NOT see himself as. and, like ANY privileged person mostly oblivious to their own behavior, he gets his feefees hurt over this as well as getting very defensive about it.

while the bar is quite literally in hell, Stolas DOES treat imps... better than other Goetia. that doesn't mean he treats them WELL, bc he DOESN'T, but to Stolas himself, he sees other goetia carry imps around in purses like animals or throw them around like objects like Stella did. in his mind, he's treating imps very well! so he must think, "so why would Blitzø or that Stiker guy even say anything like that?! that's ridiculous & hurtful!"

enter stage left Blitzø, who starts off with his typical sexy talk which then turns into needling/arguing. (once again, oof. they both continue to suck at communicating this ep so hard.)

and when this exchange happens, it is... it is so quintessential oblivious privileged person getting defensive.

"i'm not racist/classist! when have i EVER done something like that? you talk just like those people that hate all white/rich people!"

i have literally heard basically those exact words, and ones similar to what Stolas says later, from family that i have tried to point out microaggresions to before.

microaggresions are called microaggresions for a reason & are obviously not considered the same as the more outwardly hateful shit for a reason. they are harder for people to realize that they are doing/participating in and therefore very easy to get their feefees hurt over & defensive about.

bc the ppl committing microaggresions hear the big, ""scary"" words like "racism" or "classism" & think of the most extreme examples, not the ""mundane"" shit that THEY do. so if someone says they're being racist/classist, they think they're being accused of the extreme shit & think people are being absolutely ridiculous.

bc OBVIOUSLY Stolas isn't carrying an imp around in a purse or yeeting them like Stella does so what's the big deal, right? /s

moving forward in their exchange, we come to these lines. and here's where, if i haven't ruffled feathers already, i'm probably going to ruffle them now.

by saying this, Stolas DOES make a point but also... DOESN'T at the same time, ending up only reinforcing his own ignorance & lack of self-awareness. but before anyone starts furiously typing to me, let me explain.

Blitzø DOES need to hear this to begin to understand how Stolas has been making attempts & does care in his own way, just like how Blitzø also needed to hear what Fizz said in Oops for the same reason.

HOWEVER, just like how Fizz said what he said in Oops without full context of the arrangement that Blitzø & Stolas had, Stolas says what he says here without the full context of his actions & how they actually read to Blitzø, especially in the context of the deal they had.

he is genuine about his attempt to make Blitzø understand he cares, but just like before, this is ALSO quintessential privileged person being defensive.

"if i were racist/classist why would i want to date a POC/a poor person? if i were racist/classist why would i want to be seen with a POC/a poor person? if i were racist/classist why would i want to spend time with a POC/a poor person or support them?"

yes, Stolas cares about Blitzø. but this is called being seen as an Exception or One Of The Good Ones. Stolas doesn't look down on Blitzø as much as he does other imps, but that doesn't make Blitzø feel any better. and even still, while Blitzø is the Exception, it still doesn't mean that he isn't still looked down on or been the victim of microaggresions from Stolas.

and honestly, some of the talk i've seen these past few days around the fandom regarding this has been... very fucking exhausting.

yes, i more than anyone understand that Stolas is not self-aware enough to fully realize his own behaviors yet. but everyone seems to be putting this entirely on Blitzø's shoulders to fix & educate Stolas on this despite the fact that Blitzø is also hurting & neck deep in his emotions as well.

Stolas gets a pass for being ignorant & uneducated & neck deep in his feelings but Blitzø is apparently supposed to be able to articulate perfectly to Stolas every microaggresion he's suffered & be able to sit him down & give him a lecture on Hell's Racism & Classism.

just like how it is not the job of POC to educate white people, or any other underprivileged group to educate a privileged one, it is NOT entirely on Blitzø's shoulders to educate Stolas.

Stolas is approx. 36 years old & has a smartphone. Google (or i guess it's gaggle in hell) exists & Stolas shows later on in AT that he DOES indeed have tiny blips of self-awareness, little nagging feelings that he's missing something.

yes, it would definitely HELP to have Blitzø explain his own perspective to Stolas, as i'm sure Stolas would be willing to listen if Blitzø can find a way to properly elaborate. and i do think Blitzø WILL at some point in the future do that!

BUT. confronting or educating loved ones is SO much harder than anyone else. i think part of the reason WHY Blitzø has a hard time saying specifics to Stolas (besides his own self-hatred & communication issues) is BECAUSE he cares about him so much.

it was not easy at ALL for me to try to confront loved ones in my life about their behavior, & being met with the defensive reactions only made it more painful on top of that. it is not uncommon at all for ppl to let a privileged loved one get away with things that they would NEVER let someone else get away with.

this leads into where i basically want to say... if you're having any worry or doubts about Stolas' character arc right now, don't worry. we've gotten some pretty clear signs from AT that there's still plenty to be addressed on Stolas' side & that it WILL be coming.

he simply is just not as far along in the journey as some of us thought he was, & that's okay. he'll get there, even if it is painful right now.

personally, my biggest theory on HOW he'll get there is the whole "Stolas is stripped of his title & everything he owns" theory that's been circulating around the fandom. something that drastic happening to him, leaving him with nothing, & forcing him to see what Hell is actually like for the lower class outside of his gilded cage would be one hell of a wake up call for him.

but even if that theory isn't correct, i still believe that it will not just be solely Blitzø or others around him showing Stolas the error of his ways.

i am of the opinion that something drastic will happen that will also help shift his view much more into focus & make him even more receptive to what he's being told about the racism & classism of Hell.

bc oftentimes, it DOES take something drastic in a journey like this one to actually light a fire under one's ass. what that will be for Stolas...? well, i guess we'll just have to wait & see!

[lunarflux]

I find it so interesting that Alicent's only reference to what Aemond "somehow" has become is strictly based on what happened to Luke at Storm's End, and I suppose what happened at Rook's Rest with Rhaenys (I don't think it was said that Cole told her it was him, but idk). It's one thing to have seen your youngest (sorry, Daeron) son grow up to be a psychopath and show no sympathy towards anything, but up until that point, Aemond really didn't do much outside of what was expected of him.

Her tending to Aegon with guilt set my brain on fire because what did she honestly expect? She coddled her children with blankets soaked in ice water and expected them to find warmth on their own. All three of her children display different results of what happens when you neglect your children. Aegon acts out to get any reaction from her because any reaction is better than no reaction, and when he finally goes to her, pleading for help because no one wants to listen to him during Small Council, she just shuts him down. Aegon is still young, and there was more than enough room in his development for her to be his mother in all senses of the word. Helaena basically gave up on anyone trying to understand her, and had Alicent offered like... a minute of actual comfort when Jaehaerys died, Helaena might not have had a literal panic attack (though that panic attack was totally warranted because that scene was honestly suffocating even as a viewer).

In terms of her relationship with Aemond, exactly how often does this woman talk to her children beyond the niceties? Aemond's choice to own what happened to Lucerys was a result of "no one did anything, so I fucking did it myself" instead of "I was angry, and maybe I did want him dead, but I didn't understand the consequences of holding onto anger and letting it fester, and now it's too late." Aemond 100% admired his mother when she tried to claim Luke's eye, but where did that motherly protection go? Even if she went full tilt and took the "Well, Luke never got punished" stance, yes, Aemond might still be where he's at, but she wouldn't be outwardly condemning his actions and might not be confused as to how we ended up here. Better yet, she wouldn't be shocked that Aemond has the silent confidence to take over as Prince Regent.

Aemond's face while waiting for the Small Council's decision on who will rule in Aegon's stead was honestly so funny. He already knew - he played the game. He let his brother flail helplessly and drown as King, and spent time showing his hand, showing how capable he can be. All this to say, Alicent REALLY ignored whatever the hell he was doing because if she hadn't, she would have found more than one moment where she could step in and mold him into a ruler who takes her opinions into account.

"Aemond is still young" so is Aegon?? And you were?? Idk okay with him doing whatever the fuck he was doing???? He also has little experience, so you can't use that argument now that the Council is backing Aemond.

I know the woman is fed up because of all the men fucking things up around her but holy shit woman - use your power as a woman and as a mother to mold them through manipulation without them knowing.

Quick edit now that it's the morning and can actually think past fatigue: I know what we're privy to about Alicent/Aemond's relationship is mostly inferred. There's a lot left to the imagination, and when I say "passed the niceties," I'm referring to the kinds of conversations that are essentially shallow. Alicent says what she needs to say, but there's no warmth since she speaks from the position of duty. There are touches of this when Aemond volunteers to go find Aegon in s1. We see Alicent confide in her father, but we don't see those thoughts said to Aemond which might have provided more for him in terms of her sympathy and protectiveness towards him (following the eye incident because she does comfort him there). Additionally, my main focus and why I have these opinions is Alicent's use of the word "somehow." Aemond has, for the most part, made an assumption of his mother's behavior, so she does the same. The assumptions can be made through the observation of someone's actions and not necessarily through conversation.

That being said, I am taking these stances from the POV of someone who only watches the show as I don't like to compare the developments between the product and the source material. Comparison is the thief of joy, and adaptations for TV will never be as accurate and concise as we'd like them to be.

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | Jake Seresin x Reader AU | Prologue

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst + eventual smut , minors dni, word count: about 4k

…

“Ex-Navy? — A pilot? — I mean… shouldn’t we be looking at someone with a little more ground experience?” Matthew frowns at the file. It’s the middle of the night, he’s sitting behind his desk still in his pyjamas, wishing that this could have waited until morning.

Wishing that he didn’t have to worry about this at all, actually.

“He’s good, Sir,” Matthew is reassured over the loudspeaker of the phone on his desk. “His last role was something similar to this. He has knowledge of what it will take and he’s good at what he does.”

Matthew rests his cheek against his fist, shaking his head softly, “He’s only thirty-four… I’d rather she had someone more experienced.”

“We were looking at candidates that will blend in with her friends a little better.” The man explains.

Matthew sighs and turns the page over. When his daughter was younger, back when Matthew was just a governor, he had told himself that he was doing all of this for you. To make you proud. To better your future. And now he’s here.

Looking through files at three in the morning because your security needs to be increased following a threat made against your life.

You were fifteen when he was elected the first time. Nineteen when he secured his second term.

He wasn’t doing it for you. He knows that. You’re a grown up now, you’re living on the other side of the country and you’re in danger because of him.

Matthew’s brows furrow as he looks over the file one more time. He swallows, nodding his head.

“Fine… sure. They’ll do. But Allen stays. At least a few more weeks.”

The man on the line pauses. Matthew knows that he’s being silently cussed out on the other end of the line but can’t bring himself to care.

Allen is your security detail and has been for the past seven years. He’s an ex-marine with over forty years of service under his belt. Only the best for Matthew’s little girl.

With all these new names coming in, it’ll be upsetting for you — you hates change and you hate having a detail. Allen’s the only one that has stuck the job in the entire seven years since Matthew was elected.

You aren’t going to like this. The least that Matthew can do to make it easier is to have Allen show your new details the ropes before he retires. He was supposed to retire last week, but Matthew just couldn’t let him — not with all of this going on.

He looks down at the file once more and flips it closed as the phone line clicks dead. He sighs tiredly and pushes up from his desk. He leaves the office and begins along the corridor. The curtains are all drawn, given the time of night, behind them sits three inches of bulletproof glasses. Every single window.

This is the place he chose to raise his family. This is the position he put them in. He opens the door to his bedroom just a crack, as to not let the light in and startle his wife. Matthew slips into bed next to her and presses his lips to her shoulder.

Martha stirs slightly and snuggles into her husband’s side. She’s used to calls in the middle of the night by now, she rarely asks at this point. If it’s important enough for her to know, he’ll tell her. Matthew lies awake at his wife’s side.

The information he holds is important. She should know. He should tell her. Their only daughter just had a serious threat made against her. She’s in danger. Matthew closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. Telling her will just make her worry and worrying never did anyone any good.

Jake gets his orders in the middle of the night. He’s arriving in California by mid-morning. It all happens so quickly that Jake’s still thinking of how good the dinner his mother had made the night before was when he is picked up from their airport.

He was with his last family for three years. This is a big step up - people don’t usually get a chance like this when they have his kind of limited expertise. Jake’s palms sweat, and not because it’s June in Los Angeles. There’s AC blowing in his face that’s damn near chilling, but Jake still finds himself wiping the back of his hand over his brow.

“So you’re ex-navy, huh?” Manny asks. He’s part of the security team, he looks even younger than Jake does. Apparently he’s the same age. Jake has clearly had a tougher thirty-four years than this kid has.

Jake’s sitting in the passenger side of the SUV, being driven towards a house in the hills. He would rather get out and walk than answer this question, tell this story, all over again. He nods curtly.

“Yeah. For a bit before this.” Try eleven years. He enlisted the minute he was eighteen. He hadn’t ever wanted anything as badly as he had wanted to be a pilot.

Manny looks across at him and gestures to himself, “Ex-Marine.”

It isn’t surprising. Lots of vets move towards this kind of thing. Jake’s eyes land on the sign above the highway. He hasn’t been in California for four years now. Even when he was here before, he wasn’t ever anywhere like this. It’s easy enough to pretend that he’s somewhere else.

“Damn, she lives here?” Jake questions, turning the topic quickly away from their respective pasts as Manny turns the car towards a gate. He leans out of the driver’s side and types a passcode. 0000. Jake makes a mental note to get whoever set that fired.

“Mhm. The President bought it as a gift for the First Lady. Was just sitting out here empty.” Manny explains as the gate opens. He adjusts his sunglasses and the car drives on in. Jake looks around the property. He can imagine his sister’s pitch for this place already. Sprawling property in the LA hills with views and blah, blah, blah. He squints slightly.

It’s nice. It’s just not what he was expecting.

He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting - a safe house sounds a little ridiculous when he thinks about it now - but this place doesn’t look like much of a hideout. Jake wonders if you’re aware of the seriousness of the situation. The gravity of the threat.

“Cool, right?” Manny asks as he stops the car at the top of the driveway. Jake looks across at him, and then back at the house. Jake doesn’t know much about real estate - that’s more his sister’s forte. It’s modern and covered in windows. Not the best place to keep someone who’s supposed to be hiding, he knows that much. He looks up at the house, and the way that each of its windows are all open.

Sure, there’s a fence around the perimeter, but when the passcode for the main gate is four zeroes, Jake’s already starting to doubt the efficiency of this operation. Still, he has been filled in plenty.

Allen O’Malley is running the show. He’s an expert, he has served almost ten presidential families. They talked about him in Jake’s training. Stopped two assassinations back in the nineties. Jake knows better than to come in and pretend he knows all of the ropes on the first day. He usually saves that kind of showing off for the second day.

He swings his duffel bag onto his shoulder and steps out of the car into the heat. He squints, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes as Manny grabs his other bag from the back of the car.

Jake’s features tighten slightly. Manny has the sense to stick his arm out and pass the bag to Jake. It’s a visible difference when Jake has it back in his grasp, his lips quirk up into a polite smile.

“Thanks, I got it.” Jake breathes out.

Manny gives him a nod. He has already made up his mind that Jake isn't going to last long around here if he’s touchy about small things like that. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders anyway, “No problem. But we’re a team around here, we help each other out.”

Jake follows him silently into the house. He looks around at tasteful furniture, long hallways, and hardwood floors. He lets Manny lead the way. Dining room on the right side, formal sitting room on the left. Kitchen just past the dining room, large entertaining space at the back. One bedroom downstairs.

“That’s Allen’s - he likes to be able to hear the door.”

Manny keeps walking through. He leads Jake onto a patio at the back of the house and walks over to the glass railing, leaning onto it with his palms. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he follows Manny forwards. Sounds like a pool party, not like someone who just got a death threat.

Jake’s body tenses as he grows close enough to be able to see over the railing.

There’s Allen O’Malley. Sitting on the edge of a sun lounger with a phone pressed to his ear. He looks concerned, at least. That’s a good sign. And then there’s Apollo. The target. That’s your code name anyway.

You’re in the pool. Jake barely recognises you. You’ve been mostly out of the limelight for a couple of years now, hasn’t been in the news that much since you father’s last election. Well, not the kind of news that Jake keeps up with anyway. They usually use pictures of you as a kid when they talk about you in the news. America’s sweetheart and that kind of thing.

Jake watches as America’s sweetheart cranes her head back, opens her mouth and readily takes in a less than healthy share of rum.

There’s another girl standing by the edge of the pool pouring it into her mouth. Jake turns his head to look at Manny, frowning, “This is a joke, right?”

There are eight people around the pool, excluding you and Allen.

Jake’s jaw clenches. This is a code red situation. He was called in because this was serious. The big leagues, his chance to prove himself after — after the navy. He looks back at the pool, ignoring the r&b playlist alerting half of the hills that the princess is exactly where they thought she was.

Allen looks up and catches sight of the two young men on the patio. He mumbles something into the receiver and sets the phone down. Jake straightens up. There has to be an explanation for this shit.

“Seresin, good to finally meet ya,” Allen grins as he reaches the top of the stairs. Jake can’t help but notice the slight rattle as the man takes in a breath. He has to be nearing his mid-sixties by this point. Jake glances back towards the girl in the pool and imagines that she has probably given this guy a run for his money. “Folks in D.C. won’t shut up talking about you.”

Jake smiles. Flattery always helps Jake not want to tell someone they’re dogshit at their job. He reaches out and catches Allen’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

“You too, Sir - I’ve heard great things.”

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the place. We can talk,” Allen jerks his head and steps towards the front door. Jake does a double take. He has yet to stop sweating at this entire situation. He looks towards the giggling girl in the pool, then back at the man who is supposed to be protecting you.

“Shouldn’t -“ Jake wills himself to not rush into bossing his way around. He exhales. “Should she be out here on her own?”

Allen chuckles knowingly, then shakes his head. He turns towards the house, clearly expecting Jake to follow. Jake turns his neck and looks at Manny.

Manny adjusts his sunglasses, “I’ve got it.”

Jake pauses. There are eight people down by the pool. There’s one of him and he’s nowhere near you. Not close enough to intervene. This isn’t how things are done. Jake considers him lucky. His last placement showed him how things were done. He was the security detail for a congressman. The senior agents there showed him exactly how the job should be done.

Not like this.

Still, Jake has let his ego get the best of him before, and he’s still paying the price for that today. He shrugs his duffel bag closer to his body and follows after Allen.

“I’ll take you up to your room first, let you drop your stuff off.”

Jake can feel his heartbeat in his throat as he tries to keep his mouth shut. He thinks back to the Navy. To basic training. To the cocky kid who learned to shut his mouth once. He can keep it shut now.

Jake’s room is next to yours. That’s good. He feels better with that knowledge. Manny’s going to be right down the hall. Allen’s got downstairs covered. That’s good.

Jake drops his bags onto the bed.

His room has an en-suite and a shared balcony with your room. Jake pushes the sliding door open and steps out onto it. It overlooks the pool. He isn’t interested in that. His shoes are silent on the concrete ground of the balcony as he steps towards your door. His hands nudge out, fingertips grazing over the frame of the door. He brushes the locking mechanism on the outside.

Jake bites his cheek as he takes the lock between his index finger and thumb and pushes at it. It creaks. A little more pressure and he would be able to snap it clean off. He turns to find Allen leaning against the doorframe.

“Shit show, isn’t it?” He mutters.

Jake’s brows raise slightly. He knows better than to agree.

“She’s safe here, I want you to know that.” Allen explains. Jake remains stoic. Allen’s surprised at how accurate the descriptions of Jake were. He’s exactly like they said he would be. Careful. Hiding something.

“I’ve kept her safe since she was fifteen years old,” Allen announces. Jake has no idea how. He glances back down towards the pool at the sound of a scream. You look like you’re having the time of your life. You still haven’t noticed him. “We might not do it like they do in D.C. but she’s a kid, not a president. I’ll run you through it all.”

Jake sits on the chair on the balcony and listens. Allen chain smokes as he runs Jake through the rules. The rattle between each of his breaths tells Jake everything he needs to know. They did things differently in the eighties, Jake tries not to question it. Allen’s tall and foreboding enough. But his shoulders are starting to slouch and his greys take away the edge Jake knows he once had.

Even with everything he has seen so far, Jake likes Allen. Allen’s a Clint Eastwood type of guy, white lines between his wrinkles - he has plenty around his brows and the corners of his eyes. Lots of angry frowning through the years.

It’s a long story, hearing all about the years you’ve spent with Allen watching over you. Allen seems to have it down to an art.

Breakfast she’s not always awake for. You should remind her to have something. Jake frowns.

Lunch she always fixes herself. Dinner I always fix, we usually all eat together.

Jake can’t keep the sour look off of his face. He glances down at the holster on Allen’s hip, and the empty space where his gun should be. When he was put on a private jet at three o’ clock this morning, Jake hadn’t realized he was stepping into an emergency nannying position.

Another scream from behind him. He looks back. It’s nothing.

We get threats like this pretty often. That might be so, but this time they’ve chosen to increase her security - that hasn’t happened since you went off to college. Jake read your file. It’s in his bag.

She gets it. She’s kind of just saying goodbye to her friends. From tonight we’ll be implementing a curfew, house goes into lockdown after ten.

Jake’s lips quirk up in disbelief. He cannot believe what he’s hearing. Allen watches the smirk develop on Jake’s features.

“A curfew?” Jake asks it politely enough, but they both know that he’s mocking the idea. There are people actively planning to hurt you. The house should be on twenty four seven lockdown. He looks back down at the little pool party happening behind him.

“It’s what works for us.” Allen insists calmly, bringing his lighter up to the cigarette between his lips. He lights it and puffs. Jake wonders how the hell this guy passes his physicals.

Jake rests his fist against his temple and listens to the rest. He bites the inside of his cheek and realizes that Allen’s on an incredible salary for the babysitting work he has been doing. They sit upstairs on the balcony for over an hour. Allen smokes maybe five cigarettes in that time.

“So, I’ll leave you to get unpacked. I’ll sit the kid down in a bit and you two can get acquainted.”

Jake waits until he can see Allen by the side of the pool until he feels like he’s actually alone. He considers getting out now. Begging to be reassigned. Saying that it’s too painful to be back here.

He unzips his bag and stares at the contents. He can grab his stuff and start unpacking, or he can zip it back up and hightail it the hell out of here. If he leaves you with these idiots, if you die, it’s going to be all over the news. He’s going to be seeing that headline every day for the rest of his life and knowing that he did nothing to stop it.

Jake takes a deep breath and pulls his shirts from the bag. He moves about unpacking meticulously. He’s been moving around for his entire adult life now, he’s good at this kind of thing.

“Hi.”

Jake’s crouching at the bottom drawer of his dresser, folding shorts away. He turns his head, met with painted toenails and wet legs, dripping on the hardwood floor. Jake’s eyes trail up. He’s in no rush. It takes him a while to meet your eyes.

You’re leaning against his doorframe, arms folded over your chest, still wet from the pool and in a tiny bikini. The news definitely needs to update the pictures it uses.

Jake stands upright and sticks his hand out. “Jake Seresin. Good to meet you.”

You smile as you take his hand. His grip is firm and his hands are warm. You wonder what the hell your father was thinking, sending you this practical underwear model. Jake watches you look him up and down. He pushes his hands into his pockets.

“You enjoy your party?” Jake teases. Waiting to see if you apologise. If you know better. You should, your file says you’re smart. You look like any other spoiled rich bitch to Jake.

You hum and shrug your shoulders, “I’ve been to better.”

His brows raise slightly.

“We’re going out tonight. You should come, see the city.”

Jake stares at you. He hopes that this is a joke, that Allen put you up to this to test him. The look on your face tells him that it isn’t a joke.

It takes Jake a moment to answer. You know you’ve ruffled his feathers already. You cross your arms tighter over your chest. You turn away from him. Knowing that he will follow. Also knowing that the back of the bikini is just as nice to look at as the front.

“You heard what Allen said,” Jake shakes his head as he follows you along the hallway. He glances down and notices the movement of your hips. There’s no way in hell that you aren’t doing that on purpose. Sticking your ass out, swaying your hips side to side slightly with each step. Droplets of water on the small of your back, still wet from the pool. Jake ignores you. “You can’t go out right now.”

You stop walking and round on him abruptly. Most of the other guys would have run right into you with the speed that you just stopped, but Jake stops about a foot away. Quick reflexes. Your lips quirk up and then you’re looking up at him sweetly.

“Look, Jack-“

“Jake.” He corrects you firmly.

It’s like a tennis match. You testing him. Him biting back. You’re pleased enough with his reaction. You were waiting to see if he was that type. A lot of the time, staff are too worried about being disrespectful to correct you. Not him. He isn’t as pliant as most.

“Jake,” You correct yourself, smiling. His poker face is almost as good as his reflexes. You take one step closer to him, he lets it happen and doesn’t show any sign of weakness. Not one crack. Cool as ever. “I’ve been playing this game for a very long time.”

Jake watches you. His brows raise slightly as he waits for you to finish your little speech. He isn’t going to be swayed by a skimpy bikini on his first day. Although he has to admit, he hadn’t been expecting to see so much of the president’s daughter so soon - you’re always dressed pretty conservatively in the magazines.

His eyes don’t falter, locked on yours. What a professional.

“This kind of thing happens all the time,” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug, Jake notices the way your breasts move with them in his peripheral. His eyes remain locked on yours. He has seen plenty of tits in his life time, and great as they all were - not one pair was worth pissing off the president for. You tilt your head. “Eleven times in seven years, actually. I’m still alive. So, if you need me, I’ll be at the Chateu.”

Jake crosses his arms in front of his hips, holding onto his wrist. He watches you turn away from him and walk over to your closet.

“Are you saying you break your curfew on purpose?” He’s still calm as he asks. Well, calm on the outside. Internally, he’s cursing the shit show that he knows he has just been thrown into the middle of. The moment you disappear into the closet, he closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

Jake was told that Allen was good at his job. That he was just about the only one who had gotten you to behave. Now, Jake realizes, he hadn’t ever gotten you to settle down - he had just taught you how to do it under the radar.

“You know that that curfew’s in place to keep you alive, right?” Jake asks.

Your fingers curl around the doorframe of the closet, you pull forwards just enough to peek your head out. Jake notices the lack of fabric around your neck and realizes that you’re topless but just about hidden.

You grin at him.

“What are you gonna do? - Tell my Daddy on me?”

Allen stands at the kitchen island downstairs with fresh parsley in his hands. He makes eye contact with Manny across the counter. They listen to the sound of raised voices upstairs.

“Fuck.” Manny sighs as he closes the lid to his laptop. Allen grins at him across the counter, dropping the herb onto the chopping board and rubbing his hands together.

“Cough up. You owe me twenty.” Allen chuckles.

Manny shakes his head as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. He really thought that this new guy was going to last longer. He checks the time on his watch before handing Allen a twenty dollar bill.

Under three hours. That’s got to be a record.

There’s arguing for about six minutes before it stops abruptly. Jake comes walking down the stairs about two minutes after that. Manny and Allen pretend not to know that Jake just got himself fired.

“What happened?” Allen asks gently, not looking up from preparing dinner. He hopes that Jake didn’t get too much unpacking done.

Jake shakes his head as he moves to join the two of them at the kitchen island.

“That girl needed a reality check.” Jake explains. Manny presses a hand over his mouth. Jake’s oblivious. “I just told her how it’s going to be from now on. The rules around here have to change — we aren’t her babysitters.”

Manny and Allen nod along silently.

Jake feels confident in what he said. You needed to be set straight, he did that. He’s confident that if you follow his rules, the two of you will get along just fine. Allen’s counting down the minutes.

It’s sixteen minutes before a hidden number is flashing up on Jake’s homescreen, his phone buzzing with each ring. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he picks up, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Jacob Seresin?”

“Speaking.” Jake answers calmly.

“Please hold for the President.”

Jake’s eyes widen. He glances across at Allen. There’s no way you just told your Dad on him for being mean to you.

…

Tags:

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @mak-32

[boreal-sea]

I reject any dichotomy or terminology that is used to define how trans you are based on what kind of oppression you allegedly do or do not face. I reject any argument that structures transmisogyny as the only "real" transphobia, or as the worst kind of transphobia possible. I reject theory that claims anyone is "exempt" from certain types of transphobia and only the select few are "affected" by it. I reject this, because if you create that dichotomy, it will be used to end arguments by saying "I don't think you're affected by the REAL kind of transphobia - transmisogyny - therefore you're not really trans, and you don't get to have an opinion on trans issues". This is not a theoretical fear - this is an argument being used here and now to silence trans people.

This dichotomy posits femme-presenting amab trans people as the only "real" trans people, and simultaneously the most oppressed trans people, since they are the only ones who can be "affected" by transmisogyny. It both places them on a pedestal as the only trans people with a voice and the only trans people who get to have a say about what is and is not transphobia, and simultaneously plunges them into a valley of oppression and victimhood so deep that no one else can possibly be as oppressed as they are.

This creates a hierarchy of oppression that places all other trans people above transfemmes. It serves to categorize all those people as "not really trans", because they allegedly don't experience transmisogyny. It also by structure claims that the people above transfemmes in this pyramid are capable of oppressing the transfemmes below them, turning fellow trans people into oppressors and enemies. It is inherently oppositional and creates in-groups and enemies. It also erases people who are genderfluid, intersex, nonbinary, multigender, and others who do not fit into the dichotomy of "femme or masc" or "afab or amab" . It forces one to choose which identity you identify "more" with, especially in the case of transfemmes, in order to be able to be considered a "true trans".

Trans people are not arranged in a pyramid with afab transmascs at the top and amab transfemmes at the bottom. That structure just does not exist. We are all equal with one another. We can all be affected by the same kinds of anti-trans oppression. Some of us are targeted by certain kinds of anti-trans oppression more, certainly. But that does not mean others are "exempt" from it. There is also no such thing as "afab privilege" because afab people are not privileged in the first place. There is cis privilege, but that applies equally to afab and amab people.

If transmisogyny is an intersection of transness and misogyny, then trans afab people are inherently affected by it, because they are undeniably affected by misogyny and transphobia and by a unique intersection of those two things. How transmisogyny manifests against transfemmes is certainly different than how it manifests against transmascs, and there are different factors involved, which is why some transmascs have tried to coin a different word to clarify the differences between how transmisogyny affects transfemmes and how it affects transmacs. It is an attempt at clarification, not obfuscation. It is not an attempt at placing transmascs below transfemmes on any kind of hierarchy, because that hierarchy does not exist. The only reason one would believe it is an attempt to say "transfemmes oppress trans men" is if one was already thinking in terms of there being some kind of trans identity hierarchy in the first place.

Transmisogyny is not the "worst" kind of transphobia. No kind of transphobia is worse than any other kind: these labels describe an intersection of identities and how they combine to create unique forms of oppression. Not worse - unique. That's what intersectionality is. It's not complicated math where if you add up enough marginalized identities your opinion can't be questioned and you become the "ultimate victim". You can't win at oppression by being the "most oppressed".

Trans people don't oppress each other on the basis of gender or sex. We simply don't. And we need to stop creating imaginary hierarchies. We need to stop creating imaginary in-groups and enemies. We need solidarity.