#i have some quotes that ive came up with and even used with real people that would go sooooo hard

[turtleraccoonsoup]

I THINK CAS SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN TO WRIGHT BEAUTIFUL PROSE AND LOVE LETTERS TO DEAN

I THINK DEAN SHOULD HAVE SAID HE WASN'T WORTH THE TIME AND EFFORT OF WRIGHTING LOVE LETTERS

AND I THINK CAS SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN HIM MORE IN RESPONSE

[vettelsdarling]

Ive seen alot of quote requests and I rly want a Leclerc x fem reader smut where they start out as enemies (example is like Ferrari and Mercedes or Ferrari and Redbull) pls and include these two quotes

“Youre so full of shit Ferrari boy”

“but you keep coming back”

Id be rly grateful if u could write this haha

Touch my rear wing, I dare you

➪I like the idea! Hope you enjoy what I came up with :)

➪(I’m assuming you mean Charles and not Arthur btw)

➪Also, this both follows and doesn't really follow a specific timeline. I’m just using my creative freedom for this. Some people are cut out of the story because of the reader insert!

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Driver!Reader

Warnings: (18+ content) smut, oral (both receiving), swearing

Word count: 5.6k+

Backstory

You had always loved racing. Your father was a retired Formula 1 driver and had always taught you and your brother the basics of it. You used to go watch him speed around for Ferrari, which shaped your dream to become just like him. Your brother and yourself were both determined to make it as great drivers. Your mother was a stay-at-home mom with a lot of time on her hands. Therefore, convincing her to take you and your brother karting was no big feat. Especially seeing as your father was a driver himself.

You rose through the ranks faster than your brother, despite having started later than him. Your mother was hesitant to let you race at first, but eventually allowed it. You were called a star and a prodigy. Seeing as you were the only girl there, it made sense. Especially because you hit every apex just right and your overtakes were near-perfect every time.

After karting, you moved further up the ranks, eventually being crowned regional champion in Formula 3 (regional) and moving on to Formula 3.

It was there you met him; Charles Leclerc. He was the only one who seemed to be faster than you. Not only that but the idea of it had gotten to his head. You never actually spoke to him, but you'd see a smirk creep up on his face once in a while after beating you. You wanted nothing more than to wipe it off with the sole of your shoe. You weren't superstitious, but there was sure to be karma coming his way sooner or later.

Luckily that karma came in the form of one George Russel and one Alex Albon. The two of them were just as competitive as you and Charles, eventually making the four of you gain a lot of attraction in the media. You were great friends with George. He always showed a tremendous amount of sportsmanship towards you. One time, he even helped you by letting you pass him, having you win the race. All the whilst Charles was left in the dust. You relished in it.

When Formula 2 came around, you were stuck, yet again, with Charles. That was also when you had your first real interaction. He went up to you before the last race and struck up a rather puzzling conversation. Puzzling in the sense that you had no idea why he was talking to you, or why he even wanted to.

“Hey, you're not a bad driver, but I would suggest you try to maybe stop sulking. People notice.” Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

“Maybe you should check up on that girlfriend of yours. I don't think she's into assholes. Maybe stop being one.” Even though you were in your own garage, you walked away. You couldn't stand being in his presence for a moment longer.

You were unlucky because Charles beat you and moved on to Formula 1 before you. You and he had been tied for the championship, but somehow he found his way around to beat you. It was then you realized you had to do something— anything to get into Formula 1.

Your luck seemed to only build after Charles left Formula 2, and you easily won the following championship, signing a deal with Alfa Romeo, which, to your surprise, was the worst thing to ever happen to you.

You'd somehow managed to place yourself in the same team as Charles, making him the only thing you couldn't destroy on the grid. You had to be a fair teammate to even be considered by your dream team, Red Bull. You'd seen Sebastian Vettel in his glory days, and you wanted the same for yourself. However, being in Formula 1 proved to be much harder than 2. You didn't really know what you had expected, because so many stars were competing for the championship.

It wasn't all that bad, though, because he never really said much and the two of you were somehow able to make it work. It was mainly due to the pressure of having to look good. You knew about the media and their swirling rumours. Many speculated that you were Charles’ side piece. It didn't matter to you, as long as you knew just how far from the truth that was.

After the 2018 season, you somehow managed to sign yourself with Red Bull for 2019, driving alongside Max Verstappen. He went on to become your best friend on the grid, as nobody really liked Red Bull and you had to stick together. Sebastian Vettel became a “father figure”, following the death of your father earlier in 2018. It hit you harder than any barrier had ever hit you, but you were able to get through it with the help of Vettel.

It was in 2019, that you finally started rising to the top and watching Charles start to lag behind. The feeling of watching him struggle was like a euphoric punch. Nothing made you happier. You and Max were a powerhouse of a team. He helped you, you helped him. He was more than happy with it, and so were you.

Everything led up to the 2022 season, where you started casually hooking up with none other than Charles Leclerc. It started at a party that Lando threw after the 2021 season had ended.

-Flashback-

You were dancing out on the floor. Your dress barely covered your assets and you'd had more shots than you could count on your fingers. Completely wasted. That's what you were. What made matters worse was that you continued to do increasingly risky things like doing a handstand, which almost made your dress pull down with gravity. Everyone seemed to cheer you on, as they were just as drunk as you, if not more. Well, all but one. Charles lurked in the corner of the room. He didn't drink. You weren't sure why, nor did you care. But his eyes had been on you all night. The increasingly provocative behaviours you exhibited fueled something carnal within himself. Something he wasn't so sure he could control. He hated you, but at the same time… he hated the thought of someone getting their hands on you. He couldn't understand his line of reasoning. He didn't even think he had one.

The line was crossed when you came down to do a split on the floor, which ripped your dress; putting your panties on full display. Nobody but Charles paid attention to the severity of the move, so he pushed through the crowd and picked you up like you were nothing. He wasn't in control anymore. His brain had just switched to auto-pilot. Nobody realized he took you. Nobody realized the two of you were gone.

The next morning, you found yourself in a fluffy white bed, which horrified you. Your sheets were deep green and silk. Nothing like the bed you were lying in. On top of that, your clothes were gone and you were lying in your underwear. Groggy, you pulled yourself up and realized you were alone. Next to you was a bedtable with a glass of orange juice with a pill next to it. There was a card too and it was addressed to you.

“I bet you had a nice time last night. I had to leave early for a meeting, but I left you some things for your hangover. Call me if you need anything and leave whenever you want to.

– Charles”

You were beyond shocked. You were at a loss for words. Had you really slept with Charles? Charles Leclerc? The one person you hated on the grid? You could barely believe the two of you had a friendly interaction, let alone slept together. You quickly chugged the juice with the pill and got out of bed. You couldn't find your dress anywhere, so you decided to go find Charles’ closet. Everything was too big for you, but after some digging, you found a shirt and a pair of pants that you were able to adjust to your own size. You didn't care about your messy hair. You just had to get out of that house. When trying to remember what had happened the night before, you only added to the already existing headache. The conclusion then was; you slept with Charles after getting drunk and you would never ever tell a soul or do it again.

You debated whether to ask Max to come and get you, or call an Uber. You knew Max would pick you up and not ask questions… well if it didn’t involve Charles. You ended up paying for an Uber to not let the secret spill. Max was a trusted friend but you didn’t even want him to know. Vettel would likely just give you any advice a dad usually would, which was why you decided not to bother him either. Besides, everyone would probably be too hungover to care about anyone and anything but their bowel movements.

“Miss, where to?” Asked the driver. You told him the address and he started driving. Unlike other Ubers you’d taken before, this guy was chatty. He told you about his dog, a golden retriever that he named Lila. He talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had to be careful not to accidentally tune his talking out like white noise.

After a while, you were finally dropped off and you were left alone to soak in the painful false memory of sleeping with Charles.

- End of flashback-

*Still not present. First race of the 2022 season

You walked around your car, gliding your hand around it, feeling the smooth metal against your gloves. That’s when your peace was disturbed by a voice you hated all too much.

“Are you ready for 22?” You turned your head to see Charles with a smug look on his face. You hadn’t seen him or heard from him since the day you walked out of his apartment. It was simply too embarrassing for you.

“Don’t talk to me. Go bother someone else,” you huffed. Max was talking to Horner in the back of the garage. You had nobody to save you from having to talk to Charles.

“After the night we had? I don’t think so,” he said whilst walking closer and almost touching your rear wing.

“Touch my rear wing, I dare you.” The two of you shared a brief look after you said that. Charles then took the liberty of walking closer to you.

“You know what? I have a bet. If I win this race, you come home with me. I just want to talk, okay? If you win… you can ignore me and treat me like trash. Deal?” You contemplated for a while but realized it was in his favour.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t want to go with you and I certainly don’t want the Bahrain curse looming over my head. What kind of deal is this?” You spat. He only seemed to be amused by that.

“Slipped my mind. Okay, then let’s do it like this; whoever places the highest— wins.” You immediately shook his hand harshly and started prepping for the race.

You ended up in P2 with Charles taking the risk of the Bahrain curse. You couldn’t wrap your head around why he would risk the championship just to sit and talk with you. It didn’t make any sense. You didn’t want to talk about that night. Why would he want to? It wasn’t like the outcome ended in a pregnancy. There was nothing to talk about.

After the race, an interviewer came up to you after having talked to Charles.

“—And hello, P2! You were amazing out there! Even avoiding pole position! How do you feel?” You felt like you’d lost everything. It was miserable. You hated losing in races, but you certainly also hated losing bets.

“I mean, I feel great! I was able to stay on top; and to me, it still feels like a 1-2 for Red Bull.” You lied straight through your teeth. It was a strike of sheer luck that you were born with such an amazing PR ability.

“Charles said that you might be upset for placing behind him, care to comment?” You looked at the interviewer with a puzzled look on your face.

“Uhhh, I’m not sure what that’s about. Maybe he doesn’t know about the Bahrain curse?” You chuckled and quickly tried to make your way away from her. She waved and you waved back with a short smile.

Upon arriving at the Red Bull motorhome, you saw Max sitting on a couch with Kelly. He looked satisfied with the win for Red Bull.

“Hey, congrats on P2. Max was telling me about it,” said Kelly. You never really liked Kelly all that much, but she was nice to Max so you didn’t bother her. Penelope, her daughter, was cute and you’d sometimes offer to babysit her for them.

“Yeah, it was a nice race.” You grabbed a juice box from the fridge and let yourself slump down in a chair.

“Why do you look so defeated? This is basically a 1-2 for us.” Max and Kelly made sure to look concerned. You didn’t want to talk about it, nor did you want to think about it. You had to meet up with Charles anyway, so you decided to give a short and vague response, before leaving,

“I guess I’m just tired. I have to go now, actually.”

You waited by Charles’ car, knowing that the paparazzi were taking pictures of you doing so. You tried your best to remain anonymous though, wearing a thick hoodie with no print along with a cap, sunglasses, and a mask. Your hair was tucked inside the hood of the hoodie. Nobody could really tell who you were, but they’d certainly speculate.

“You look like a serial killer; waiting by my car with that outfit,” said a voice coming up behind you. You saw the many fans screaming and the paparazzi wanting statements. Charles ignored them and opened the door for you. Still not wanting to actually converse with him, you decided to sit in the backseat instead. The Ferrari driver rolled his eyes, sighed, shut the shotgun seat door and got in himself. You were not going to sit next to him. You knew that only bad things would come of it.

“So, I’m your taxi driver now? Why didn’t you just get in when I opened the door for you?” He sounded a bit pissy and it was in all honesty pretty entertaining to sit and ignore.

“Hmm. Okay. So you’re only talking when it’s absolutely necessary?” You ignored him yet again. It was a mystery how the drunk version of you got to talking with him— even going as far as sleeping with him. Ever since that night, you’d had dreams about it. You believed they were fragments of memories coming back to you. It was haunting to relive. All those dreams about him; about Charles, they were just like any adult movie you’d seen before. It was embarrassingly detailed.

Luckily, the awkward car ride was short. The two of you arrived at his hotel and quickly got inside. The fact that the two of you were going to be alone in his suite was daunting to you.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get you something to drink.” You took off your sunglasses, cap, and mask, and sat by the table in the room. Charles served your drinks before sitting across from you. It was like a fever dream; being in a hotel suite with your one true rival.

“I know you might not want to talk about what happened four months ago… but I think we should,” Charles began. You dreaded the atmosphere. It felt heavy. Too heavy.

“Look, I have dreams about what happened and I just— I don’t really know what to say,” you shot in before he could say anything else.

“You remember? I didn’t think you would. You were so drunk, you know?”

“I remember alright. I’ve dreamt about that night so many times now, I think I’m going to go crazy soon.” You buried your face in your hands whilst sighing.

“Yeah… I think I would be embarrassed too…” you looked up in confusion.

“Embarrassed…? I know we’re not exactly mates, but embarrassing?” At the very least, he could’ve tried to be more sympathetic. You’d been extremely drunk that night.

“Yeah, you were so loud. I got complaints from my neighbours.” Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. He wasn’t talking about your body. He was talking about your moaning. You weren’t sure how you’d recover from that one.

“Shit… but you were technically also a part of it. You’re making it sound like it’s all me.” You scowled at him.

“How was I a part of that?”

“Well, for starters, you’re the one who fucked me. I told you. I keep dreaming that… so much of it… I want to throw up.” It was probably a bad idea to have admitted that, but you didn’t want to lose the dispute.

“Fucked? You think we fucked?” He sounded genuinely surprised. His face also matched the tone of his voice, with his eyes wide open.

“Yeah, against the headboard… as I remember it, we went at it hard. On top of that, I was drunk… so can you blame me for being loud?” His shocked face suddenly melted into a smirk and his signature smug face after rubbing a victory in yours.

“So you’re telling me… you’ve dreamt about me taking you against the headboard in my apartment? Going at it hard?” Was he toying with you? You couldn’t tell.

“You know… that’s not what happened. You were so drunk I had to take you to my apartment. You were yelling and crying the entire time for some reason. I had to change you out of your dress because you threw up on it and you also threw up on the floor. You passed out minutes after you did so…” when you came to that realization, you were beyond embarrassed. The most embarrassing thing was the dreams that you admitted to having. Dreams that weren’t actual memories, but just your imagination. Did you want to fuck him? Was that it? You couldn’t bring yourself to think about it,

“If I’m correct… you were having wet dreams about… me?” You didn’t answer him. You simply got up from your seat and made your way to the front door. You had to leave. However, before you could open it, Charles pinned you to it, trapping you between his arms.

“What are you doing, Leclerc?” You looked at him with doe eyes. His breathing was ragged and you could tell he had some bad intentions.

“I have a new deal to make. For the rest of the calendar, let’s have it this way: whoever places highest wins.” He took a moment to breathe and stare into your eyes somewhat intensely.

“What about the winner?” You asked. The air felt hot and heavy. A knee was pushed between your legs.

“The winner…” he hesitated,

“The winner decides whether to fuck or not.” You gulped at his words and saw the look in his eyes.

“Deal.” The rest was history.

*Present time

It was the last race of the season and you were more than happy to finally take a well-deserved break. You had placed podium plenty of times and won against Leclerc more times than you could remember. The arrangement the two of you had set up was flawed, however. You both knew it was a bad excuse to hook up with each other, as neither of you ever chose to not fuck.

“Fuck, we need to bring this one home. If you win this, you’re the champion! First ever female champion and it’s for our team! Go out there and drive like your life depends on it, yeah?” Horner’s pep talks always got you into your racing mindset. He was the only person besides Max who was really able to lift your spirits like that.

“I’ll be there to fend off anyone threatening your pole,” said Max, who was getting ready to step in. You smiled and went in for a tight hug,

“Thanks, Max. Let’s bring it home for Red Bull!” The two of you got into your positions with your cars. The lineup was in your favour, as you’d placed pole in the qualifying session. Max was in P4, but you knew he’d have no problem working his way right behind you.

As soon as the race started, you sped off. It was smooth, and you worked most apexes just right. The radio sounded and told you that Max was right behind you, which put your mind at ease. You had nothing to be worried about as long as Max was on defense.

“So uh, Max just took out Sainz along with himself. It’s all up to you now. Leclerc is a little under half a second behind you. Your heart sank. Not just because of Max’s sacrifice, but also because Leclerc was behind you. He had the power to snatch the championship from you and graciously hand it over to another driver. You couldn’t have that happen. You simply couldn’t. You didn’t want to let Horner down, and you couldn’t bear to live with letting Max down after his takedown.

“Fuck, okay. I’ll fend him off as much as possible. We’re in the homestretch anyway, right?”

“Yes, just 5 more laps to go.” You gave it your all. You saw red. Everything was just about winning and keeping the Ferrari car behind you.

In the end, you won, but you actually couldn’t understand how. Even though you gave it your all, you did have tiny lapses of moments where Leclerc could’ve snuck in and gone for the win… but for some reason, he didn’t.

You were met with tight hugs and huge roars from fans. Max immediately lifted you up into the air and brought Christian over to do a group hug. Your interview was breezy and you felt like you’d won at life. All throughout listening to your national anthem and spraying champagne on your fellow drivers, you couldn’t help but think about Charles and why in the world he let you win.

You met up with Charles after everything. You decided to go straight to the Ferrari motorhome. There he was. In all his glory. He was scrolling through his phone, presumably checking his emails and his socials.

“Hey, uh, Charles… could we talk for a minute?” You asked. The look he gave you when he noticed was unreadable. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. He followed you outside and to a more secluded area where you were sure nobody would be able to hear you.

“You let me win,” you began.

“I didn’t. All I did was—“

“Shut up, okay? I know you did. I just… I want to know why,” you sighed and put a hand on your hip.

“I think you deserved the win. That’s all,” he smiled and crossed his arms.

“You’re so full of shit, Ferrari boy,” you spat and looked away. There wasn’t much around you, but a brick wall and a fence. Nobody would be able to spot you with Charles. The last thing you wanted was for the media to think the two of you were fraternizing.

“—But you keep coming back,” he replied. You slowly turned your head, only to be shoved into the wall behind you. The brunette had both of your arms locked by his hands. There was no escape for you. You had to confront whatever the two of you had been running around doing for the past season.

“Tell me, why is it such a bad thing for us to just fuck and actually feel things for each other?” He whispered. You wanted to deny it. You wanted to deny everything. He was foul, he was rude, he was reckless, but he was yours… he’d always been yours. Ever since he broke up with Giatti, the two of you had an eerie air around each other. One that couldn’t be explained with your past. One that made your heart beat faster.

“You remember the dreams you had about Lando’s party? That was all you. You must’ve felt something for me to have dreamt something like that,” he continued. Oh gosh, the dreams. He just had to bring up the dreams. You knew, however, that he wasn’t entirely wrong. Your stomach would churn with butterflies whenever you thought back to your dreams.

“Screw just fucking. Why shouldn’t we date? Tell me why we can’t be with each other.” He looked directly into your eyes, desperately searching for an answer.

“I… I just can’t— I mean I… I hate you,” you said,

“I fucking hate you, Charles!” He started backing off, and you started cornering him against the fence behind him.

“I hate how you make me feel all of these things I’m not supposed to feel!” You calmed down, and once again, were shoved against the wall.

“Tell me all about how I make you feel. My place or yours?”

“Yours… my room is further than yours,” you said whilst avoiding eye contact.

Charles immediately took you to his hotel suite. It was right next to Hamilton’s. As soon as the door opened— you threw your arms around his neck and he told you to jump into his arms. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and the two of you made out feverishly. There was no time to bring it to the bedroom. The two of you were used to doing it in all sorts of places. The Ferrari driver placed you on a counter and you started stripping each other. He was impressed by your effort to wear matching lace underwear. Whenever you did so, you always claimed it was for yourself, but he liked to beg to differ.

“Fuck, tell me.” Charles was buried in your neck, you couldn’t make yourself answer.

“Tell me how I make you feel,” he gasped before going in again.

“Good… you make me feel so good,” you sighed. His lips latched onto every part of your neck that made you feel like royalty.

“You know what I mean, baby. Tell me how I make you feel.” his demanding voice was enough to make you pant harder.

“You make my… My heart beat faster,” you moaned.

“—And?”

“I feel fuzzy around you.” He loved hearing your declarations of love, so much that he couldn't take the slow pace anymore.

In a flash, he grabbed you by the hips and helped you to the floor on your knees.

“God, you're divine. Can you be a good girl and suck?” you stared at him as you removed his boxers, letting his dick spring free. It twitched in appreciation for your touch. You traced your fingers against a particularly prominent vein and heard his sounds of pleasure. He groaned and bucked his hips, needing your mouth. You met his wishes; starting by licking from the bottom to the tip. When you wrapped your lips around him, he tangled his fingers in your hair and started bobbing your head on his cock. You couldn't take all of him, but he pressed on, making you gag.

“You take me so well,“ Charles sighed, throwing his head back. With the help of his hand in your hair, you went faster, feeling his tip touch the back of your throat with every bop of your head. He seethed through his teeth and after a few minutes, you could tell he was getting close. He was grunting like crazy and pulling your hair as if his life depended on it. God, when he looked at you— he almost came. Tears stained your face and your mascara was running.

“Fuck, baby, I can't hold it anymore,“ he moaned and rammed into your face a final time, releasing his cum down your throat. You swallowed everything. He was breathless and so were you, but even so— he still had more stamina left. Stamina that he needed to use up.

“I want to taste you.“ He sat you on the counter again, before roughly spreading your legs. His fingertips teased you, grazing your inner thighs; getting closer and closer to your cunt.

“Hurry, I need you,“ you sighed and grabbed his hair.

“Beg.“

“What?“

“I said to beg for it.“ The Ferrari driver had a lustful gaze and his eyes were filled with a certain need. The insatiable hunger for you.

“Please?”

“Not good enough.”

“Please, Charles.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Please… Eat me out, Leclerc.”

“Good girl,” he said before diving in. With a thumb flicking your clit, he began sucking, his tongue messaged your folds in an unreal way. He slurped as if he hadn't eaten in days and you were his salvation.

“Oh fuck, Charles!” You couldn't help but squeeze his head between your thighs. With one hand, he clenched your thigh tightly, continuing to suck you for all you were worth.

Your moans and gasps motivated him to go faster and thrust his tongue deeper into you. Your vision was blurry with pleasure. He was too good, and you couldn't take it for much longer.

“I'm going to cum,” you half-screamed and pulled him closer. He pulled away for a quick second to get a word in,

“Cum on my tongue, baby. Give it to me,” his words mixed with the pleasure of his tongue pushed you over the edge, and you found yourself releasing all over his mouth. He licked you clean afterwards and cleaned his face with a kitchen towel.

Whilst he was walking back to you, you noticed his dick being fully erect again. How that was possible, was beyond you. Apparently, he saw you staring; because he chuckled before trapping you in a delicious kiss. You tasted a bit of yourself on his tongue. It was so erotic, you couldn't fathom it.

“You taste like heaven, babydoll,” Charles whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I'm going in. You're still on the pill, right?” He asked before doing anything. You nodded swiftly and bucked your hips desperately.

“Please, Charles.”

“Please what?“

“Please fuck me stupid, Charles” He was caught off-guard by your bold response. It flipped a switch in him that made him go rogue. You were immediately swept off the counter and bent over it instead. He pinned your hands above your head and rubbed your cunt before stroking himself a few times, and then entering slowly.

“Oh fuck, you're so tight.” You heard him groan. When he reached as far as he could with your current position, you arched your back to help him reach deeper. He rested to let you get used to him. You'd had sex more times than you could count, but somehow, you were always tight. This time wasn't any different.

After a few moments, you told him to move; which he did. He almost pulled all the way out, leaving just the tip in. From there, he slammed into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched like a cat.

“Fuck!” You couldn't help but scream out. The stretch was beyond amazing. He was doing you just right. With every moan and every call of his name, he gained more confidence. The confidence fed him the energy and stamina to go even faster and harder.

You were an utter mess. Your hair stuck to your forehead due to the amount of sweat that clung to it. You were seeing stars and it felt like you were choking. You repeatedly screamed out his name like a holy mantra. It was unreal.

“Scream my name louder, sugar. Let the entire hotel know who you belong to!” You obliged. Your screams got louder and his thrusts— wilder. You felt your legs going numb, so Charles lifted one and it helped him reach even deeper than before. His hips rutted directly against yours at that point. It was heaven on earth.

“Fuck, I'm so close!” You finally yelled.

“Cum with me, okay?”

You went at it like rabbits for a few more minutes before you felt your knot begin to undo itself. Leclerc’s thrusts became more and more sloppy. It didn't take long before you came all over his dick, which pushed him to fill you to the brim. The mixture of your essence and his dripped down your thighs. You couldn't move. You couldn't feel your legs.

“Let's take a shower and go take a rest.” He lifted you from the counter and swung you over his shoulder, walking into the shower. When he turned it on, you felt the hot drops of water rain down on your skin. He helped clean you, as you couldn't stand on your own.

“I'm sorry if I was too rough,” He said whilst scrubbing your back.

“No, I'm fine. This was amazing, Ferrari boy.” He chuckled at your nickname.

After showering, the two of you headed straight to his bed. You cuddled into him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Your legs were entangled with his and his arm was wrapped around you, pulling you almost fully onto himself.

“Did you mean it? Do you really have feelings for me?” He asked, looking at the ceiling.

“Did you let me win?” You asked.

”... Yes, I did,” he replied sheepishly.

“Then you have your answer.” With that, you found it hard to stay awake for a second longer; passing out whilst hearing the sound of his heart beating to yours.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

[heterophobicdyke]

how do you feel about the whole crushes on fictional characters being relevant to your sexuality thing? like animated or drawn characters not characters played by real people or super realistic video game characters. i’ve had women tell me they are bisexual because they like quote unquote anime titties but hate the idea of engaging sexually or romantically with a real woman and im like hmm you are heterosexual

i think some people can get some pavlovian horny response to porn queues (like big perky pornified unrealistic anime breasts on childlike figures wearing school uniforms) without actually being interested in the bio sex it's associated with. like how so many TIMs are anime addicts who want to see themselves as their own personal porn moodboard. bc so much of anime is extremely objectifying and reductive and quite honestly pedophilic

it's also kinda like how so many bisexuals assumed they were lesbian and start identifying as one while they were coming of age during covid. bc there wasn't any male or female actual bodies around to test their actual body reaction to lmao. it was all hypothetical and ofc men fkn suck so they assumed their feminist hatred of men (positive) was a sign they weren't attracted to them (not true). so many young "lesbians" then came out as bi when they made it out of their covid bunker into the real world and realised that no amount of man-hate can stop ur body reacting to male bodies if u are attracted to them. it's not all comphet

i'm just gonna address the kittyit shit here because it's all kinda combined, on the topic of comphet:

now this is gonna be controversial af but..... i think a lot of actual attraction to men is chalked up to comphet on radblr (and off radblr tbh, that masterdoc done fucked us). like at the time kittyit essentially admitted she was polilez yeaaaaars ago (posts unsearchable/deleted for obv reasons) she was also making/reblogging many posts about OUT LESBIANS still being lesbians despite fucking men bc it can be a comphet response or some shit:

maybe these women have complicated feelings about men and don't want to be attracted to them but are? like why is it always assumed that "lesbians" who keep fucking men despite identifying as lesbian are actually lesbian??? im not talking about women who forced themselves to fuck men to "try it" or due to heteronormativity, before consciously acknowledging their lesbianism, that is a different story, but like no i'm sorry. lesbians don't feel some compulsion to fuck men (how do u separate that from actually wanting to? many traumatised women DO still wanna fuck men?) and not all of those desires are extreme mental illness and trauma... some are actual attraction. i think there's such shame about this (perhaps very minimal!) attraction to men (the shame is the trauma speaking) that they'd rather convince themselves they're lesbian with trauma-induced compulsions to fuck men than actually be attracted to them? sounds mean but yea nah

but i'm always suss of ppl who identify as a "lesbian feminist" (not just a lesbian who is a feminist but an actual Lesbian Feminist) because

and the whole "born this way is simply saying we are genetically flawed" is straight outta sheila jeffrey's mouth (sorry it's pink the user @regina-geourge has since deleted the post - she had a whole post with screens where kittyit said she believes lesbianism is a trauma response and chalks up her actual attraction to men as socially constructed: https://regina-geourge.tumblr.com/post/190883567207/first-ive-heard-of-kittyit-being-a-polilez-do-u). this is only part of the post:

this (too pink) post from kittyit says: "it's just so crazy to me how when a lesbian questions the "born this way" narrative, even if done carefully, briefly and thoughtfully, there are a bunch of other lesbians there to say immediately & outright that she must not be a lesbian. certainly those who oppose political identifications with sexuality must know that's not how sexuality works, that a political opinion can't change your sexuality. there are conservative lesbians, lesbians who support & endorse cotton ceiling, lesbians who are anti-abortion, white-supremacist lesbians, lesbians who hold all manner of beliefs from horrifically offensive & oppressive to bizarre & upsetting to me personally. it doesn't change that any of them are lesbians, women who date/love/fuck women." [ME: bisexual women can also date/love/fuck women, lesbianism is defined by the lack of male attraction not by WHO you date/love/fuck - or else lesbians stuck in a forced/arranged het marriage wouldn't be real lesbians]

"[contd] personally, i believed i was born this way as a lesbian child living in an abusive, conservative christian household. before i hit an age of double digits i was on my knees crying & pleading with the christian god to explain to me why i was made this way. and now that i've grown up, i don't know! i don't know if there's a biological component to lesbianism. i don't know what's nature, what's nurture, if i live with a birth defect that has been diagnosed by torturing, murdering male medical providers as homosexuality, which, of course, is a diagnosis we now reclaim."

HOMOSEXUALITY EXISTED, ALBEIT WITHOUT A NAME, BEFORE IT WAS "DIAGNOSED AS A DEFECT." it looks like the christian god still isn't outside her head because the only way it makes sense to see born-this-way homosexuality as first and foremostly a "defect" is to trust the words of those male leaders, doctors and gods, over what we know to be true - that there is nothing wrong or holding us back (science/biologically wise) by being homosexual. why would there be?

this is the exact argument sheila jeffreys makes when she says she would rather "choose" to be a lesbian, something she sees to be a powerful feminist opportunity, rather than be born "defected." jeffreys also hates gay men because they further prove that there is a class of people, both male and female, who were born only interested in the same sex since birth for whatever reason (there are many evolutionary reasons when the world is not short of those who can reproduce lmao and we've evolved beyond needing piv for that but anywaaaaay). jeffreys' theory that lesbianism is a feminist choice rather than an innate trait (value-neutral) translates to gay men as "men choosing men, therefore woman-hating and debauched."

it's just classic homophobia: "lesbians are traumatised man-haters, that's why they "choose women," and gay men are overly male-identified (despite being gnc af and not out there raping women) and therefore are sick and perverted sexist freaks." there are many sources out there for sheila pretty much saying this straight up

sick of self-hating bisexuals tbh

[racefortheironthrone]

Do you think the term 'fridging' has become overused, and if Brienne does sacrifice herself for Jaime, would that not count?

I think that one of the useful things about the term fridging is that the website "Women in Refrigerators" is still up so we can know exactly what Gail Simone wrote when she coined the term back in the 90s. To quote her:

"Hi. This is a list I made when it occurred to me that it's not that healthy to be a female character in comics. I'm curious to find out if this list seems somewhat disproportionate, and if so, what it means, really. These are superheroines who have been either depowered, raped, or cut up and stuck in the refrigerator. I know I missed a bunch. Some have been revived, even improved -- although the question remains as to why they were thrown in the wood chipper in the first place. I know I missed a bunch -- I just don't know my comics deaths the way I should. I'm not editorializing -- I'm just curious to find out what you guys think it means, if anything. The preceding letter was written and sent by me when I realized one day that most of my favorite female comics characters had met untimely and often icky ends. The history of the idea and this site are listed here, and the responses from various comics professionals are listed here. An important point: This isn't about assessing blame about an individual story or the treatment of an individual character and it's certainly not about personal attacks on the creators who kindly shared their thoughts on this phenomenon. It's about the trend, its meaning and relevance, if any. Plus, it's just fun to talk about refrigerators with dead people in them. I don't know why.

In Simone's original meaning, "fridging" specifically applied to superhero comics, it involved a spectrum of violence from depowering to sexual assault to physical assault to mutiliation to murder, and it was disproportionately gendered. Notably, the qualification that "fridging" is done in order to motivate the (disproportionately male) protagonist rather than as part of a heroic character arc for the woman being fridged, came around a little later, mostly from those creators who were responding to Simone's initial provocation. However, you can see that this particular qualification was an idea floating in the aether at the time Simone was writing her first foray.

Do I think the term has become overused? It's certainly spread to more genres outside of superheroes, but I don't think that's an over-extension, since we're usually talking about the same phenomenon happening in "heroic" subgenres of fantasy, sci-fi, romance, etc.

Does this apply to Brienne sacrificing herself to save Jaime?

No.

Brienne's self-sacrifice is the logical and emotional climax of her own character arc, one rooted in chivalric romance in which Brienne seeks to play the role of the tragic knight. She is introduced as an existential true knight, someone who finds life in Westerosi society a constant trial and humiliation but who longs to escape into a world of song and story through glorious deeds:

"Because it will not last," Catelyn answered, sadly. "Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming." "Lady Catelyn, you are wrong." Brienne regarded her with eyes as blue as her armor. "Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining."

As in real-world chivalric romance, the structures of Westerosi chivalric romance are built around tragedy: the Dragonknight doesn't get to settle down with Naerys, but gives up his life to save King Aegon IV, and it's the doomed chaste romannce and the stubborn attachment to duty that makes it all so damn chivalrous.

Thus, from Brienne's introduction to now, we see Brienne looking for someone worthy to sacrifice her life to save:

she starts with Renly, except that she can't save him from the magic (although that does mean that she doesn't learn how unworthy he was) and becomes blamed for his death instead.

then she shifts to Catelyn, except that she can't save her because Catelyn sends her away so she's not there during the Red Wedding.

Jaime and Brienne's ASOS trek across the Riverlands, from the revelations of his backstory to him jumping into the bear pit to his quest-giving at the end, is entirely about setting him up as the third of three lord/lady-coded characters that Brienne could sacrifice herself for. And lo and behold, we have a situation where Jaime and Brienne are about to come face-to-face with Lady Stoneheart, a scenario we've already seen be grounded in questions of sacrifice and honor.

So unless GRRM somehow fucks up and makes the conclusion of Brienne's arc more about Jaime than Brienne, it's not a case of fridging.

[rasshu-benaiokny]

Gyutaro’s Age (decent read share this if you agree plz. I don’t even want credit, just throw it everywhere )

Ive been looking around on tumblr to see if the legendary “Gyutaro is a minor” argument persists here too and it did a year back with little bit of people talking about it here and there. Ive seen many people say that he’s a minor without concrete evidence and instead its “he looks like…” or “daki is this so he has to be this…” similar to Tiktok. so im going to debunk and provide my own evidence that Gyutaro is not a minor. Because i feel slighted when i see others get bashed because of a mistranslation on VIZ’s part.

But i do not blame anyone for accidentally believing that Gyutaro is a minor because well… it was in the English Manga, so it had to be true! Right…? Im just here to defend my Gyutaro peeps thats been fighting out there.

MY PERSONAL VIEWS ON KNY DEMON AGES

Ultimately i do side with the demons do not age after they are turned even if there is evidence to contradict such a statement (unfortunately that is spoiler territory but most people know the reference). But since demons not aging could be referring towards demons not “deteriorating” like a normal humans i don’t have a firm stance so i don’t think bad about others who claim that a character’s actual age is their canonical demon age. Personally i switch between sides; demons don’t deteriorate nor do they mentally grow up after being turnt.

- overall, i do not care for demons that died as kids to be put in lewd situations like Daki or Rui (But i dont care for bashing anyone actively if i see it because its not really doing anything productive for me)

- But i do not like that Gyutaro fans or non Gyutaro fans will automatically label him as a minor because of a rumor started from a manga error. Just to turn around and then use the words “pedophile/cp/etc” to somehow justify your misguided hatred? those words are very serious claims and should never be loosely used. It devalues such claims making it harder for REAL ones to be identified and caught.

- I personally like to view Gyutaro as 20-23 despite his most consistent age being 26 due to his demon age (126). (Which is stated in the Japanese wiki/ the English Wiki is a blood bath between fans even if the admins believe Gyutaro is an adult)

- so i will support my claims by debunking the most prominent “gyutaro is a minor” arguments and then at the end i will add my own/ others evidence to support the Gyutaro is an adult claim

Argument 1: The one that started it all; The VIZ error

Every claim that states that “Gyutaro is a minor” derives from the english manga panel where Gyutaro says something akin to “when I was 13, and you stabbed that samurai” and it played out like Gyutaro was referring to himself as being 13 when he was turned into a demon that day BUT this was actually an error due to the fact that the original Japanese copy was actually written wrong. In the original Japanese copy, when gyutaro was referencing an age, he was referring to no one. From how it’s written, the view could believe either Ume was 13 or he was 13. (Or at least that was the vibe i had gotten from some native Japanese folks i talked to; one doesn’t even look at demon slayer as they said quote “how it was written was strange?”)

Viz Rendition (Do not blame VIZ; it happens every bluemoon, theres an actual list of their mistakes too)

The Original One (From what ive been told, its phrased weirdly and its confusing to translate effectively)

The Fan Edit (Fan edits are popular among the manga portion of anime fans so i wanted to clear up that this IS a fan edit that got popular)

So with that being left up in the air, most fans and non gyutaro fans had to wait until the anime came out and surely enough, the anime confirmed that Ume was the 13 he was referring to and not himself. So that nearly eradicated the most common “Gyutaro is 13” arguments by far (though some who have been misinformed still use that argument) But this still doesn’t confirm he’s an adult just yet as those same people who said he was 13, simply moved it up two years and said he was 15 so heres my next debunk

- And just to add because some kny fans did NOT realize that Gyutaro and Daki/Ume are NOT twins and Gyutaro is canonically the older brother.

The anime rendition (most anime do tend to clear up manga inconsistencies anyway)

Argument 2: the CURRENT META, Gyutaro is 15-16-17 claim.

After the “gyutaro is 13” claim was debunked completely, many people switched up their arguments and said he was 15 due to the age gap in kimetsu academy between him and his sister (16-18) a two year age gap. This one is easy to prove wrong but you would have to know how to process math and comparing skills which everyone SHOULD have; ill attempt to explain it to my best ability regardless. There are a few main points debunking this and its easy to see.

Reason One (KimAcademy ages don’t correlate): Using Gyutaro’s and Ume’s age gap is unreliable due to the fact that everyones ages would have to correlate aswell. Heres a few examples. Ume is canonically 13 but in the AU, she would be 16 to fit into the narrative. But since Gyutaro is 18, people claimed that he would be 15 in canon. Unfortunately that is not true because every character would need to correlate and be aged up 2 years which isnt true (IE: akaza stays the same).

And even if Akaza was the exception, other characters have differing ages like Yushiro, Murata, Kanea (if you buy into the when you die you dont age)

Reason two (Gyutaro was not two when Ume was born): With people saying he was 15 when he died also means that people are willingly to believe that he was only two when Ume was born. (If you believe that, skip forward where i bring logic into this and human development… plus a 2-4 year old taking care of and infant isn’t possible since people want to use realism here)

Reason three (The kimetsu Academy spinoff is a spin off that doesn’t effect canon): like many official spinoffs and alternate universes, these types of media don’t affect the actual canon. Like how all of the demons are reincarnated but the KnY series shows that a demon cant do that, only humans can. Plus, this AU is specifically school based so changing popular characters to fit a notion like that is common and SHOULDNT be cited as concrete proof. (I dont see people claiming that ume is 16 nor that yushiro is a middle schooler.)

- maybe if the official AU was modern themed only and not modern school themed then this claim could be effective but there are huge contradictions that using the AU cant be a realistic source

Argument 3: “he looks…” IE, you don’t understand Gyutaro’s character yet.

This is the MOST infuriating argument and it hurts to see Gyutaro fans use this because this is literally why he acts the way that he does! And this is also where my proof starts to appear because its based off of not Gyutaro’s appearance but Ume’s?! Back to the point, this argument is simple to debunk. When no one has any more proof they base his age off of his looks and there is SO much proof to debunk this that its crazy. I love it when people do this because i gottem in a lock hold and then they get mad.

Reason 1 (thats not a gyutaro exclusive thing, its an art style):

- Basing ages off of looks wont get you ANYWHERE with any demon slayer characters; its literally sounds like “but daki looks like an adult” claims. We know how unreliable looks are.

- better examples of characters looking a different age from their canon age (this is both anime and manga referenced): Yushiro, Daki, Genya, Nezuko (unfortunately her adult demon form causes issues), Shinobu, Sabito, Muzan, Akaza, and even tengen’s wives. These are just a handful of characters that people get confused by because of appearance. Its mainly because of the style that most characters are drawn in (Big forehead, big eyes in the middle point of the head) style which makes everyone look younger. Reading the manga, I even thought Akaza was really young when he died (im good now though)

Reason 2 (Gyutaro is built different)

- I see this argument where people pull up gyutaros flash back screenshots without realizing the key factor in it all. But at first, i didn’t get it either because he barely changes physically but guess who does; Ume shabana. If you pay attention at Gyutaro’s WHOLE flashback, you will see that there are a total of 3 freagin time skips!? I only noticed two but someone pointed out that theres another but its so small that no one bats an eye! Heres the shots in order but this comes with speculation about his exact age in each screenshot, so i will elaborate with logic, biology, and comparisons in the kny art style. The manga actually gives more proof for his age so ill parrot it in this section too.

The first stage ( This is way before ume was even conceived as this is the stage where Gyutaro was alone and was ultimately beaten by his mother in an attempt to kill him. He was unable to defend himself)

- he is the smallest in this scene and to use the “he looks” trend against everyone who uses that argument without thorough analysis; when comparing his body structure to similar structured characters in demon slayer, he resembles Tanjiro’s smallest brother who was 3. (Which immediately debunks the “Gyutaro is 15” completely at this point)

-this was also the stage where he did depend on his mother for food; and unfortunately he wasn’t provided much. He was just the “useless child that shouldn’t be alive”

- So the best age range for this scene and the context given in the manga as well; Gyutaro would be 3-5 years old since this was the stage where his mother beat on him the most

The second stage; the baby Ume era(this is a longer stretch of time since hes referring to it as such; the stage where he was learning how to survive, being picked on by others, and when ume was born etc)

- This was now the longer stretch of time where the manga has more context to help! And now we have a new character to help us understand visually! (And when my preordered book comes in, i will have better visuals too)

- firstly we can see that Gyutaro is older from the start now; hes taller with alittle more defined muscles, though his face is still softer so he isnt an adult here. It would be less likely at this stage anyway as he still lived under his mother and hasn’t been thrown out.

- he was now, becoming independent since he wasnt under the care of his mother completely, or lack there of. Now venturing to hunt for his food like raw snakes, mice and bugs (which isn’t healthy in the slightest)

- due to him not eating like a growing kid should, we already can tell he was malnourished and this will lead to his stunted growth in the next stage

- but before we move on, i HAVE to introduce the most vital piece of evidence; Infant Ume. using the information from the official kny manga; Gyutaro had the strength to fight back his mother when she tried to harm Ume which means hes not the helpless 3-5 year old we saw at first. And adding up everything else we have, we have a rough estimate of him being (10-15 years old) during Umes birth.

- and using the kny power scaling, it isnt too far fetched that Gyutaro could overpower his mother to keep Ume safe. Though he was jobless at this point so he hadn’t had practice to actually “fight” just yet

The last stage (The malnourished part that everyone seems to look past and somehow complete miss an obviously older Ume?)

- this is the ending stage were Gyutaro and Ume get turned into demons but heres the funny thing that tells me that people aren’t paying attention to their claims. So many people will use these pictures in conjunction with the one above claiming that Gyutaro is the same age in both when Ume grows exponentially!? Its hard to see because there isnt a clear difference in gyutaro himself but we can use Ume as the deciding factor!

- Comparing the lower photos with the upper ones, we can tell that gyutaro has aged up because of his facial structure is now defined instead of soft. His clothes are now new and not tattered, he is actually taller, and Ume is canonically “13” now.

- what does that mean? That means ume has aged 13 years since the last time skip, so gyutaro did too, making him over 18. The mother has died by now so Gyutaro is Umes sole provider other than herself and her line of work. Gyutaro has grown up to become strong enough to beat up other adults in the district like samurai and other strong “men”. He very well is an adult, maybe living on his own making ends meet for him and his sister since he has a canon job. Hes just so fragile looking because he never had enough nourishment to help him grow.

- so Gyutaro’s final age range when he becomes a demon is his mid twenties. Since adding 13 years shoots him past the “gyutaro is 18” claim that ive seen too.

- and before anyone compares his height to douma’s in the last scene. Douma is a behemoth and comparing a malnourished/growth stunted/hunched gyutaro to douma is unrealistic because even akaza(who is pretty healthy) would look up at that man. Gyutaro is actually around the samurai’s height; the one that burned Ume. (The official entertainment ark art book also shows that gyutaro is taller than Ume by a decent degree- thats on my tiktok for anyone to see)

Last Arguments: these are the lesser claims ive seen, other takes and extras from other languages manga like Spanish and Japanese manga, sites, and blogs.

The one i use: Gyutaros and Ume’s demon ages were agreed in Japan but i cannot find any English translations. The preordered entertainment district book may contain additional information. Ume’s demon age is 113 and Gyutaro’s is 126 and knowing that Ume and Gyutaro were turned into demons the same day by douma we can infer that Gyutaro is 26. Its not a headcanon as so many claim it to be since its derived from a canonical source.

There is a newer rumor claiming Gyutaro to be 23 and people are citing a book that doesn’t have an English translation yet and i have yet to look into it. Its worth a mention if anyone has links or scans i can use. I am not shy of buying to see if its a real product.

There is an extra explanation for Gyutaro’s small and malnourished stature and that is congenital syphilis. (I will not go into detail but there are many parallels to this disease and Gyutaro’s human AND demon appearances but research at your own risk, pictures can be disturbing)

Ive seen people add on that Gyutaro and Ume are probably Half siblings (same mother different father) due to their mother being a p— in such a intimate career and area. Its less likely that they share the same father yet even know their real fathers (this was just a small thing i wanted to point out, it has nothing to do with the argument)

Gyutaro’s voice aids to his age as in his flash back you can distinctly hear his younger voice in the snowing scene compared to his cries when ume died. In my opinion, he doesnt have a really high nor a really low voice, similar to akaza or douma. But if he was a kid during the end of his flashback, he should’ve sounded like the snow scene where he was around 16-19 from how Ume is depicted.

Gyutaro does NOT act like a child compared to daki and even daki is a stretch. Gyutaro is extremely mature in his mindset but he is very hatred driven. He is very mature as he thinks more about the benefits for his little sister rather than himself. Hes going to be driven by jealousy so he will act selfish it’s mainly for Ume, plus selfishness is not a kid exclusive trait. When he doesnt get his way, he doesnt act out by whining and attempts to deduce a way out of his stressful situation. But he his pretty toxic as a man… toxic masculinity be damned

A thing that i didn’t realize but another pointed out; Gyutaro has no need to alter his demon appearance because hes not in a profession that needs him to, so why does he look so tall as a demon? They theorized that his demon appearance should be similar to how his body shouldve grown up to be like, like his kimetsu academy counterpart that isnt malnourished.

(So yeah, thats a good amount of what i could manage to fit on here, obviously theres more proof but im only limited to 10 photos so i couldn’t show everything i wanted to. This is my magnum opus i guess, so if you are dealing with anyone who claims that “gyutaro is a minor”, show them this, share it everywhere, i dont even WANT credit! I just want my fellow homies to be allowed to love an ugly ass man without some person saying “hes a minor”)

[spacesymbol]

anyways HI. its been uhh... two weeks since last post but about a month since any actual life updates. so im gonna do... that!

gonna split this one into tumblr specific updates and personal updates since i figure the latter is a little less important to some people. not trying to sound mean there, i get the feeling!

anyways, tumblr specific updates!

the big update is that i completely revamped my carrd. theres a lot more text now, and the layout doesnt look as good on mobile as it does on desktop, but i still like how it looks a lot better than the previous version.

i also added a new tag to my pinned. the tag is just this 📁 emoji, and its sort of a catchall tag for posts about media that i like. since i got rid of alter tags a while ago and i dont really like tagging specific franchises, i figured this works better for now.

my pinned post was also updated to reflect this change, and theres even a new tag guide/explanation!

okay now for the more personal life related updates. theres a LOT you have been warned!

where did i last leave off... right, the delaware trip! okay well i say that as if a lot happened on that trip. which is incorrect.

the only real big thing about the delaware trip was that i was kind of suffering for the whole trip since i had just been put back on adhd medication, and the dosage was WAY too high so my body did not adjust well at all and i was having like horrific symptoms for the whole week. and i wish i could truthfully say that the dosage of that medication is sorted out now but i cant!!!! 🥲

in the four days between the end of the delaware trip and the first day of school i went to a friends belated birthday party... which was the only time i hung out with any of my friends for the entire summer actually. but the party was still fun...!!

the rest of the updates are gonna be school related. since the next significant thing after that party was the first day of senior year.

my classes have all been manageable so far. i think the stress is definitely going to pile up soon with college application deadlines swiftly approaching, but the impending reality of that hasnt really set in yet. it is definitely nice to be taking classes i genuinely enjoy this year, even if the coursework is difficult!

i dont remember how much ive talked about my social standing at school on here but tldr it sucks. i dont have any genuinely close friends or a dedicated friend group that enjoys my presence at all. something something the we should call fiona interview quote... thats basically described my social situation for the past several months.

in terms of theater. hoo boy. well you see, our drama teacher (and shows producer) is on maternity leave. and not only did she switch the order of plays and musicals again (the fall show is a play this year), but she chose two plays for us to do this fall.

basically both shows are one act plays with no real lead roles since the scenes arent connected at all. performances will go like: show one, intermission, show two. and the "no lead roles" thing would be great except for the fact that this is one of my two senior theater productions with this school and i would like the chance to earn bigger roles, you know?

anyways auditions came and went and the cast list was released last thursday. and you will never guess who one of my romantic scene partners is. well. its my ex 😁👍

i mean besides the fact that i have to pretend to swoon over my ex, im really happy with my roles. i got double cast in one of the plays as opposed to one role in each play, and i like the play i got double cast in a lot better. and i only auditioned with two scenes from that play, and got cast in both of those scenes that i auditioned with, so i assume the director really liked my auditions?

also one of the scenes im in (not the one with my ex) is fully just an internalized homophobia turned "dude i think i love you" scene and its just SUCH a good scene. i really like my scenes and characters, i am just rightfully worried about rehearsing a romantic scene with my ex for two months...! but it will be fine. probably

okay this is getting REALLY long but uhhh general not-life-related updates.

undertale day!!! we split a chara less than 24 hours after the newsletter dropped 👍

my cats fifth birthday was last wednesday!!!!!! i could write a whole essay about how much this tiny beast means to me but just know i love her lots okay?

okay. okay. i THINK thats everything i have to say. uhh this is the part of the post where i talk about future tumblr updates and status.

idk. idk!!!!!!!!! the stress and busyness of senior year is kind of starting to get to me a bit so i might just disappear for a few months. or maybe ill continue updates every couple of weeks or every month.

i definitely want to return to posting here as regularly as i used to, but i always either avoid it for some reason or have other things i need to be doing instead. so whos to say how active ill be! i definitely dont know!

[askinkiskarma]

(1/2) i just finished ocean and engines and 👁️👁️ i am typing this with snot running down my nose and tears in my eyes i think this is the most ive cried over a fic that was so heartbreaking and beautiful oh my god im in PAIN (just what i needed to ignore the actual pain in my real life) woman you are literally crazy fkdkfkfkfkkfkfj i don’t even know how you came up with that im still trying to process but the quotes ??? the inner dialogue ??? all so raw and beautiful just beautiful i fucking sobbed at max’s quote about grief 😭 AND NETEYAM MATING SOMEONE ELSE????? I CANT TAKE IT MY HEART ACTUALLY FELT SAD AT THE ENDING i was not expecting that AT ALL im gonna spend the rest of the night cryijg actually i love this so much but i don’t think i can read it again … just kidding I CAN read it again but not for a while this feels like fresh wound and i just got off my period so im more sensitive

OFKDKFKD 2 part of my ask is coming after i read the alternative version

BABY your asks/replies/messages mean so much to me I wish I had a better way of telling you just how much, but pls know you are a very big reason why I am still writing and still working so hard to improve myself and make something (hopefully) better each time :( you've been w me since the beginning and have always been so supportive and I LOVE YOU OMGG

i'm so happy you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry if it hurt you, it hurt me too, i literally bawled my eyes out for days writing this, i don't actually think i cried more even at the archer, there's just something so heartbreaking about two people who love each other and can't be together and i hope i captured that to some extent.

i hope it was an ending that looked up, though, my intention was to show that life does go on, and she did get a lot of what she wanted and can now finally be one of the people and feel "useful" and like she belongs.

also you have to blame the ending on the song, which i am obsessed with, bc initially it was going to be after happiness by taylor swift, and it was going to be still probably just as sad, but it would have had a different tone to it, for sure

tysm again and ily and i hope it didn't hurt too badly, and i understand if you don't want to read it again lol hahahah

[ithisatanytime]

xavier wulf - pedals to the metal(slowed)

“ there is no longer gentile or jew, man nor woman, for all are one in christ jesus”

this is a bible quote you will be hearing a lot about in the coming days, let me give you some context though, paul unlike many of the other apostles was not a close personal friend of jesus, paul was literally a pharisee who persecuted and killed christians, that bit of acts that i shared the other day where a “certain synagogue” makes trouble for stephen and stephen hits them with the truth do you remember that? well they killed stephen not long after those quoted passages and paul, or saul back then, was among them and picked up stephens cloak personally after they murdered him, he encountered an apparition of christ on the road to damascus and the rest is history. for a thousand years or more, the hebrews were gods chosen people, of whom paul belonged (or so he thought) and then jesus came along and said to their faces “ye are not of abraham”and they killed him about it, thats where paul is coming from when he says “theres no longer gentile or jew but all are one in christ jesus” he was himself a so called jew, christ had JUST come and said basically that these were NOT jews and he came for the lost sheep of the house of israel who were considered at that time gentiles, they were unaware of their true identity BUT they still followed christ because his sheep know to follow his voice. that is the context, so its like if the jews were japanese instead lets say the japanese were gods chosen people and he sent his emmisary to earth to say the high priests arent even japanese anymore they are korean, in fact its so bad i have to go to korea and china to find unmixxed japanese whos parents were taken in exile hundreds of years ago, theyve remained pure and kept my commandments, now as a japanese high priest this would be upsetting to say the least, you might even kill this mans followers for a time, but then he appears to you from beyond the dead and says “takeshi why do you persecute me so?” then you might say there is no longer japanese or korean but all are one in christ jesus.

 to ignore the racial component of the bible is to read the book with your eyes fucking closed, it is interlaced throughout the entirety of the bible and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is a fucking liar, dont believe me? read it yourself! that being said, there is no longer gentile or jew and all are one in christ jesus, and his sheep will be known BY THEIR FRUITS, which ought to be love at the very least. race is very important (obviously) but if there is real genuine love in your heart than you are gods own. but if there no longer be gentiles or jews, than who are these people who claim to be jews? it will never get that far, that quote will only be used as a prybar to separate gods people from the truth, but the fact of the matter is paul himself had a great deal to say about these so called jews, that they were contrary (enemy) to all mankind, that they persecuted the early christians constantly, they are LITERALLY the thorn in pauls side ive heard the thorn called everything but what it is, even implications that the thorn was pauls homosexuality, lmao go read it for yourself it is LITERALLY the so called jews attacking him constantly, and paul says that there be a BLOOD CURSE on them forever for killing the christ and furthermore in revelation it says “beware them who say they are jews but are not, but do lie and are the synagogue of satan” it says it TWICE almost verbatim in the very last book of the bible thats meant to prophesy far into the future.

  i know it can be hard to know what to believe about the bible, but notice i am CONSTANTLY encouraging people to read it for themselves or posting entire chapters of context at a time, something they will not do because they are liars and when they lie they speak of their own.

[relaxxattack]

hi im asking u this bc u seem to be bee duo enthusiast so

ive been calling c! beeduos relationship platonic because i thought that was what their cc’s said, and i thought they had said that they were uncomfortable with ppl shipping the characters. But ive seen a lot of posts that say their relationship is canonically romantic? and i absolutely do not want to come across as homophobic by watering down a mlm relationship to just friends because that happens so much in media so.

what is the canon state of their relationship / ur opinions on the platonic thibg

dont worry abt answering if u dont want to!! i see a lot of differing opinions and i trust yours :)

aw it’s totally fine, im flattered you asked me about this!

let me put it simply: it’s a whole mess, lol.

first im going to talk about what’s happened fandom-wide that caused differing opinions, and then i’ll explain my own opinion/interpretation. :]

(this got really fucking long im so sorry)

ranboo and tubbo initially proclaimed the relationship was romantic, specifically in argument with the wiki editors who had set it as platonic by default. (you can see this in the vod where they decide they’re canonically married— it’s very funny. chat tells them the marriage is already on the wiki, they check, tubbo is jokingly offended that it says platonic and asks if he needs to up the romance).

tubbo also makes jokes about adultry, which sort of implies the relationship is not necessarily a platonic one.

(theres definetly more in that stream alone but it’s been a long time since i watched it so i don’t remember a lot of it.)

the wiki, because of this, suffers from going back and forth on platonic and romantic, seemingly unsure where the joke ends and the canon begins, or if its canonically a joke! a mess, as you can already tell.

this gets more complicated as the marriage bit goes on: outsiders, such as phil and scott, both at one point say “platonic marriage”, which then ranboo and tubbo agree with. however, when chat asks them if they’re platonic, they say the opposite. so there is a lot of confusion there.

there’s also the difficulty of being able to tell streamers and characters apart. ranboo and tubbo both don’t like being shipped irl, and that’s their boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. (they’re also minors, but tbh when they’re 18 in a year i will still be following their boundaries regardless of their legal age).

due to people not wanting to be accused of minor shipping, they started adding the platonic tone indicator to most of their drawings— basically a way of saying “no homo”. meanwhile, tubbo frequently on stream flirts with ranboo and makes quite a bit of nsfw comments towards him that are frankly hilarious.

this goes on for a while with nobody really sure what’s canon, but a lot of people assuming it’s probably platonic, until: the drama of the mods night. a few mods dmed all the wiki editors telling them ranboo wanted his canon character relationship officially set to platonic.

unfortunately for those mods; the very same day, a few hours later, ranboo on stream makes fun of puffy delivering him and tubbo “friendship flowers”. because, and i quote, “bruh. we’re literally married. this must be how the ancient greeks felt.”

in case you don’t know, the internet often jokes about how historians will call ancient greeks ‘very good friends’ when they are quite obviously gay. so in this context, ranboo is joking that people will call him and c!tubbo, who are married, “close friends”, when he doesn’t think they are.

basically, ranboo canonized romantic bee duo, the very same day the mods told everyone he’d wanted a platonic one.

chaos and drama immediately erupted everywhere. on tumblr, we were talking about how weird it was of his mods to do something like that without asking him first. we ALSO talked about how weird it was of them to assume that ranboo can’t make his own decisions, or assume teenagers cannot be in relationships without it being sexual. twitter did the same thing but in the opposite direction: called ranboo mods homophobic, or said they were mad ranboo felt pressured into making a romantic relationship canon ‘just so people could have mlm rep.’

i dont want to go into detail about the drama that happened that night because apparently official people follow me and i dont want to stir it up or have them come “clarify” things. im just saying what we talked about.

ranboo in typical ranboo fashion apologized quickly and seriously. he was deeply sorry for possibly offending anyone with how he’d portrayed his rp relationship with tubbo, and he also assured everyone the mod thing was just a miscommunication.

he said he would talk to tubbo and they’d decide once and for all whether it was platonic or romantic, and then announce so everyone would know.

it’s now been a few months and we've had no word from them on that development. we still have no clue.

-

now, here’s my opinion:

i want to take ranboos word for it that it was a miscommunication with his mods, but... we had it on good authority from people on the wiki team and people in the discord with the mods that (while it was happening) they were really going after the wiki admins, and also made some weird comments about it. that combined with the way ranboo seemingly had no clue (considering he canonized their romance that very same day).... it’s very. sus of the mods.

then there’s the canon we’ve got since then. although occasionally adults in the room have called it a “platonic marriage” and tubbo once (back when it first started) called it a “plankton tectonic” marriage, in roleplay it’s been... kind of not that. tubbo and ranboo make nsfw jokes about each other in character, and their characters also share a master bedroom and bed in the mansion. there's also the way c!tommy really thinks it’s a romance between them as well, and they agree with and play off that— for instance confirming that they “fell in love” when he asked, or ranboo confirming that they “make out on occasion”.

people will still put platonic on their art and posts, imo, because they’re worried about breaking ranboo and tubbo’s irl boundaries by looking like they ship them. or even just being accused of shipping real life minors. and that’s a valid fear to have.

the thing is though: c!bee duo are not cc!bee duo. they’re roleplay characters. cc!bee duo are not okay with being shipped, but they made their characters get canonically married, and call each other “husbands”. so it’s okay to write the word “husband” in your comic without adding “platonic” to it, i promise.

telling the ccs that their characters have to be platonic is... weird. it comes off as not only babying them, but also as saying teens can’t date without it being gross. which isn’t true.

(this is why seeing people overuse “platonic husband” so much bothers me. like, they ARE husbands. you can just say it. what are you trying to hide...?)

-

do i think they’re canonically romantic? ehh, its likely. it’s still okay to interpret them as platonic, because again, it’s hard to tell where jokes end and roleplay begins. like, maybe it’s jokes in the rp too, and c!bee duo are just friends. friends can and should be allowed to make jokes like that with each other! aro & ace marriages exist!

or, maybe it’s actually part of the rp, and they’re very much romantic. we don’t know!

some people say they could be a qpr (queerplatonic romance), which i could see. (a qpr is a relationship that fluctuates between, or can’t quite be sorted into, “romantic” and “platonic”. people in a qpr can do romantic things while having platonic feelings for each other). in my opinion this is a very valid interpretation as well!

-

CONCLUSION (sorry this got so long omfg):

are c!bee duo romantic?

its likely, but you can still interpret them however you like!

should i put /p on bee duo content?

ehhh? i find it annoying when it’s overused (as do others), but if you’re worried you can. its up to preference. putting it too much is weird though

should i put /p on things cc! bee duo do?

no. you’re not the one saying it so you can’t decide the tone tags for that. imagine you said something to your friend and a random stranger came up and was like “haha but that was /p right...?”

can i ship c!bee duo?

mmm. i’m not sure on this one. they are canonically married and very flirtatious, but the ccs don’t like being shipped and they’re close enough to being the ccs that actively shipping might be against boundaries.

can i treat c!bee duo as romantic?

yes. literally just don’t be weird about it. it’s not that hard! you can understand that two characters are husbands without making it weird

here’s the most important thing: boundaries. cc bee duo still haven’t told us what their preferences and canon is about this whole thing.

right now, i am assuming based on what they already show us they’re comfortable with, but! the second they give us any more info! all these opinions will change!

i am only going off what they do. i would never want to cross boundaries at all. i just wish they would make theirs a little more clear.

..... i hope that helped anon, i went way off the rails... i need to go to sleep.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I love your long posts which make for great reading and I wish you could do more because you’ve got such a range of astonishing interests. I’m hoping because you’ve served in the military you would have studied military thinkers. Do you think the Art of War by Sun Tzu is way overrated by everyone? I studied him a bit for my masters but I still couldn’t get my head around him. Interested to know your thoughts. Thanks!

“To lift an autumn hair is no sign of great strength; to see the sun and moon is no sign of sharp sight; to hear the noise of thunder is no sign of a quick ear." - Sun Tzu's Art of War, Chapter IV - Tactical Disposition, Clause 10.

Sounds cool, doesn’t it?

But what the hell does this quote really mean? Do you know what it means? Can anyone else tell me?

Look, I enjoy a good Sun Tzu quote as the next person. Only recently I was exchanging thoughts with a fellow blogger whose studying Thucydides, Clausewitz, and Kissinger for an advanced course at the US Naval War College. Even he prefers Sun Tzu over Clausewitz. I can see why too. If you can make sense of chapter one of Clausewitz’s tome On War you deserve a Nobel Prize.

Unlike my very learned fellow blogger, there are lot of folk who don’t know Sun Tzu at all. They can quote him, but almost certainly out of context. As someone who partly grew up in the Far East and even learned Chinese and Japanese (a pitiful but functional degree of fluency) I’m embarrassed (not hard since I’m English) when I hear other Western compatriots romanticise and elevate Eastern icons to mythic status that the Chinese themselves have never done.

I am even more bemused than embarrassed after having hung up my military uniform for ‘civvy’ corporate clothing at how badly abused Sun Tzu’s book is in the corporate world. In my workplace I grit my teeth at corporate high flyers who mistake a balance sheet for a real battlefield by quoting Sun Tzu out of their arse, and then as self-styled ‘corporate warriors’ work themselves up in a lather of testosterone induced self-importance to crush their corporate enemies into the dust.

This is why the The Art of War by Sun Tzu has invited a jaundiced eye roll. And rightly so. I can see why many view Sun Tzu as over-rated because many easily impressed people go all woo woo over anything ancient and Eastern.

It’s become a familiar trope to say the art of ‘strategy’ as a science began 2,500 years ago with the writing of The Art of War. I would dispute this. Not that the writing of Art of War was the earliest written but whether I would call it a manual of strategy per se - more on this below in my answer.  However you rate or overrate the Art of War it’s important to have perspective and remember this book is written in 512 BC. Other than the bible and some religious books, there are not many books that can survived thousands of years and still remains a steady bestseller and enjoys a wide influence in military academies and army staff colleges today and even as far into board rooms.

The question behind your question is just as interesting to me: why did Sun Tzu and his Art of War gain such traction in the West?

Sun Tzu (544-496 BC) wrote the original text of The Art of War shortly before 510 BC. During most of the past two thousand years, the common people in China were forbidden to read Sun Tzu's text. However, the text was preserved by China's nobility for over 2,500 years. The Chinese nobility preserved the text of The Art of War, known in Chinese as Bing-fa, even despite the famous book-burning by the first Emperor of Chi around 200 BC. The text was treasured and passed down by the Empire’s various rulers. Unfortunately, it was preserved in a variety of forms. A "complete" Chinese language version of the text wasn't available until the 1970s. Before that, there were a number of conflicting, fragmentary versions in different parts of China, passed down through 125 generations of duplication.

Indeed at the beginning of the twentieth century, there were two main textual traditions in circulation, known as the (Complete Specialist Focus) and (Military Bible) versions. There were also perhaps a dozen minor versions and both derived and unrelated works also entitled Bing-fa. Of course, every group considered (and still considers) its version the only accurate one.

When I last visited China before the Covid pandemic for work reason, I had time off to go to a couple of museums that housed the fruits of a number of archeological digs uncovering the tombs of the ancient rulers of China in which sections of Sun Tzu’s works were found. These finds have verified the historical existence of the text and the historical accuracy of various sections. I understand new finds are still being made.

The first complete, consistent Chinese version was created in Taipei in the 1970s. It was titled The Complete Version of Sun Tzu’s Art of War." It was created by the National Defence Research Investigation Office, which was a branch of Taiwan's defence department. This version compared the main textual traditions to each other and to archeological finds and compiled the most complete version possible.

This work was completed in Taiwan rather than mainland China for a number of reasons. Mainland China was still in the throws of the Maoist Cultural Revolution, which actively suppressed the study of traditional works such as Sun Tzu. The mainland had also moved to a reformed character set, while Taiwan still used the traditional character set in which the text was written. Only today is the study of Sun Tzu in mainland China growing, interestingly enough, through the translation of Sun Tzu into contemporary Mandarin. Based on the archeological sources we have today, we are reasonably certain of the historical accuracy of this compiled version that is the basis of what most people use today.

Surprisingly, the Art of War only came to light in the West around the 18th Century.  

Historians believe it was first formally introduced in Europe in 1772 by the French Jesuit Joseph-Marie Amiot. It was translated at the time by the title “The thirteen articles of Sun-Tse”. Joseph-Marie Amiot (1718-1793) was not just a Jesuit priest but also an astronomer and French historian, as well as fervent missionary in China. He was one of the last survivors of the Jesuit Mission in China (he died in Beijing).

Many of the historical problems with understanding Sun Tzu's work can be trace back to its first Western translation in French. A Jesuit missionary, Father Amiot, first brought The Art of War to the West, translating it into French in 1782. Unfortunately, this translation started the tradition of mistranslating Sun Tzu's work, starting with the title, The Art of War (Art de la guerre).

This title, copied the title of a popular work by Machiavelli (a criminally underrated writer on military strategy), but it didn't reflect Sun Tzu's Bing-fa, which would be better translated as "competitive methods."

We cannot say what effect being translated by a Jesuit priest had upon the text. It was unavoidable that the work's translation reflected the military prejudices of the time era when war was both popular and Christian. It was also unavoidable that most future translations would reflect some of the first translation's prejudices. However, war was on the verge of becoming much less Christian in the West since this time was the era of the French Revolution (1789).

The work might well of slipped into obscurity after its initial publication, but it was discovered by a minor French military officer. After studying it, this officer rose to the head of the revolutionary French army in a surprising series of victories. The legend is that Napoleon used the work as the key to his victories in conquering all of Europe. It is said that he carried the little work with him everywhere but kept its contents secret (which would be very much in keeping with Sun Tzu's theories).

However, Napoleon must have started believing his own reviews instead of sticking with his study of Sun Tzu. His defeat at Waterloo was clearly a case of fighting on a battleground that the enemy, Wellington, knew best. Wellington’s trick at Waterloo was hiding his forces by having them lie down in the slight hollows of this hilly land. This is exactly the type of tactic Sun Tzu warns against in his discussion of terrain tactics.

After Napolean, Sun Tzu's theories made their way into western military philosophy. Many of his ideas are reflected in the ideas of work of Carl von Clausewitz. who defined military strategy as "the employment of battles to gain the end of war."

The first English translation of The Art of War is less than a hundred years old. Captain E. F. Calthrop published the first English translation in 1905. Lionel Giles, an assistant curator at the British Museum and a well-known sinologist and translator, attacked this early translation, and he published his own version in 1910. It soon began to be read alongside Clausewitz’s 8 volumes of turgid German military prose.

It wasn’t long before military thinkers were ditching Clausewitz for Sun Tzu because no one could get past Chapter One of Clausewitz’s On War. The “Clausewitz is dead, long live Sun Tzu” school was first championed by the influential British military theorist B.H. Liddell Hart in the 1920s.  Basil Henry Liddell Hart (1895-1970) was a captain in the British Army. He was a very influential military theorist and historian, and author of several books such as The Future of War (1925) and Strategy (1954). Having witnessed first-hand the mechanised onslaught of the Great War, Liddell Hart sought a philosophy of warfare based in the prudent use of technology, psychology and deception - and the avoidance of the 'total war' catastrophes of preceding decades.

The main idea of Liddell Hart is to bring the set of principles of warfare in a so-called ‘indirect approach’ to the enemy. His advocacy in his scholarly work of an ‘indirect strategy’ over direct, frontal operations, was a reaction to the high casualties of the Western Front in the First World War. But his ideas were not simply about physically outmanoeuvring an opponent. Instead he pushed for a psychological scheme: to strike from unexpected directions, to generate strategic dissonance, and to induce paralysis. Hart’s well-known thoughts are “Only short-sighted soldiers underestimate the importance of psychological factors in time of war”, “Originality is the most important from all military virtues”, and “The principles of war could shortly be condensed in a single word: concentration”. 

Liddell Hart believed that distilling historical insights of strategy and operations would offer the chance to avoid the costly disasters of modern war and ensure a more cost-effective route to success. He imagined technological solutions in the form of air power and mechanised land forces outflanking and shocking an enemy at the tactical level. This would be complemented by taking indirect strategic ‘ways’. Like his contemporary J.F.C. Fuller, Liddell Hart considered concentrations of air and armoured forces driving deep into enemy territory to destroy their ‘nervous system’. The psychological aspects of this were central, since acquiring an advantage demanded moves that were unexpected, with precise attacks at the most vulnerable points. As the most influential military writer of the modern age, revered and reviled by three generations of strategists, armchair and armipotent, his controversial theories of armed attack laid the foundation of the famed German Blitzkrieg.

Hart’s championing of Sun Tzu’s work as articulated through his own works got a new lease of life as the world gingerly settled into the ice bath of the Cold War. The rise of Communist China, against all the odds having defeated the well disciplined nationalist armies of Chian kai-Shek, was a wake up call for the West. There was a general befuddlement among western military analysts to explain the secret of Maoist success. There was an intellectual inquest in the 1950s and 1960s for some way to explain (and, it was hoped, learn to counter) Maoist military doctrine. Sun Tzu was seen as one of the historical and cultural sources of some particularly Chinese or Asian way of war, and his work made its way into Western discussions of counterinsurgency and asymmetric warfare.

Into the breach - and with fortuitous timing - appeared a new translation of The Art of War that was to become the defining translation right down to our day. Liddel Hart provided the foreword to Samuel Griffth’s 1963 translated copy of the Art of War. It was to quickly become a key text in US war colleges and this version is still to this day favoured by most of these institutions. We also studied Griffith’s translation at Sandhurst alongside Liddell Hart’s ideas.

There is no question that Griffith’s translation has become the standard go to translation to this day in military circles - that is until James Clavell’s more populist and looser translation came along in the 1980s. One can see why. Griffith’s translation provided a number of historical Chinese commentaries on the text. It should also be noted that Griffith’s strengths was his immense experience in the military and knowledge of military history as a brigadier general in the U.S. Marine Corps.

However, this was also his version's greatest flaw. Like many other critics I have the impression that Griffith did not really believe or understand all of Sun Tzu. Indeed he would often explain away Sun Tzu's direct statements without making it clear that this was his commentary and not what Sun Tzu wrote. The other main criticism and this one is stylistic and therefore just my opinion, Griffith was also not much of a writer. By our standards today, much of Griffith’s language can seem awkward and dated.

Looking back it feels ironic of the US military were wrapping their heads around Sun Tzu as way to get inside the Chinese communist mind (of Mao the military strategist especially). Unknown to them Mao had desperately tried everything to get hold of a copy of the Art of War from the Chinese Nationalists. Cambridge historian and doyenne of intelligence history, Christopher Andrew in his book The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, wrote that the theory that Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was critical to mastering contemporary warfare is propagated through the use of a tantalising anecdote: “During the civil war between Communists and the Kuomintang regime [Mao Zedong] sent aides into enemy territory to find a copy of it.” The ancient text, ostensibly, was of such vital importance that Mao was willing to risk men’s lives to obtain it, while Chiang Kai-shek vowed to protect it all costs. It’s a questionable anecdote at best as there are no historical evidence of it.

We can say that the notion that Sun Tzu’s slim treatise is considered both potent and slightly dangerous - providing the master key to unlocking victory in war through the ages - is a compelling myth that refuses to die. Mao most likely never ordered a clandestine operation to pilfer the text, nor did Chiang Kai-shek give any thought to shielding its contents from prying eyes. Both men certainly read it long before the start of their civil war, both most likely had ready access to it during the conflict, and neither man won or lost based on adherence or divergence from its teachings. But undoubtedly it set the hearts of Western military theorists aflutter in trying to unlock the secrets of Eastern military thought.

Sun Tzu and his ideas in a reincarnated form took hold of the wider public imagination in the 1980s. The 1980s was synonymous with Japan. With the perceived rise of Japan as a global economic power and the changes in post-Mao China, there was a Western (meaning American) search for more explanations. What was the secret of Asia’s rise? How were Japan and China ‘doing’ this?

In Western business circles it was for a time trendy to read it because of the perception that it was part of what made Japanese businesses so successful during the 70s and 80s. Management gurus and other corporate consultants certainly latched on to it and touted it as a way for Western businesses to re-orient their entire management and business philosophy. I don’t know if that ever actually was the case in Japan - my father who worked in both China and Japan in the corporate world at a very senior level said it wasn’t - but what is true is that in the West as the Japanese economy languished into the lost decade of the 90s so too did interest in Japanese business practices, and thus Sun Tzu.

The idea that The Art of War was a kind of how-to guide to ‘strategy’  was made especially popular by Hollywood in the 1980s. Oliver Stone’s iconic film ‘Wall Street’ seemed to typify the ‘greed is good’ New York capitalist scene of the 80s and 90s. Hollywood mirror imaged the rise of the corporate raiders and junk bond kings like Ivan Boesky and Michael Milken. Hollywood sent thousands of American businessmen off to read Sun Tzu to look for ‘leadership secrets’. This is part of a general Western fascination with ‘timeless Asian wisdom’, the American idea that ‘the mysterious East’ is possessed of secret knowledge. American and European businessmen were enamoured of the idea that “a battle is won or lost before it ever begins”, a saying that reinforced traditional American business attitudes about a winning mentality and a ‘can-do’ spirit being two keys to success.

Because Japan and China were trendy in the 1980s and 1990s it also influenced Western popular culture, not just fashion (think Kenzo) but also comic books (manga) and anime. In this Eastern friendly climate it led a number of popular fiction authors to release their ‘own’ versions of the work to capitalise on its newfound popularity. These versions were more about the pop culture of the era than Sun Tzu. Unfortunately, though popular, none of these versions took advantage of the work completed in Taiwan creating a definitive version of Sun Tzu's text by this time. These versions were based either on old English translations (the Calthorp and Giles versions) or incomplete Chinese sources. However, all of these versions remain popular today, despite their questionable sources and poor quality of translation.

In 1983, James Clavell updated The Art of War translation of Lionel Giles and published it in a very popular version. This started a very common practice in English translation: creating a ‘new’ version from other English translations instead of going back to the original source. Authors today continue to follow this practice, which only perpetuates and exaggerates the problems with early translations.

Thomas Cleary, another well-known author, did his own The Art of War translation with historical commentary in 1988. Again, his name recognition did much to increase awareness of Sun Tzu, even if his work did nothing to improve the general quality of the translation.

Looking back the whole Sun Tzu as a business model fetish in the 1980-90s was really pretty silly, rather like 80s shoulder pads. Of course, there are some similarities in leadership regardless of profession, but the basic goals and working environments of war and of business are so wildly different that applying Sun Tzu to business is superficial at best.

So to me the problem is not that Sun Tzu is ‘overrated’ per se, the problem is that every half baked author out there try to apply its principles to every problems that mankind have. The Art of War, as the title suggest, is not The Art of Managing your Business, the Art of Winning in Competition against your classmates, The Art of picking up Women, The Art of Living Life to the fullest. It is, and only is, The Art of War. It is ‘overrated’ only if you expect it to answer every problems in your life.

The Art of War is not the word of God. It is a war manual advocating common sense with pithy aphorisms - and a very good one.

It’s not that I think the Art of War is over-rated it’s that the more common problem is that many people vastly under-rate Sun Tzu. By misreading Sun Tzu thoughts and ideas, I believe many are in effect under-rating the problems which Sun Tzu is addressing, namely war, or the continuum of conflict resolution where divergence in interests of multiple parties extends to the possible use of lethal force on a massive scale. A lot of people trivialise this problem with idiocies like “what if someone threw a war and nobody came” (clue, they would win, then hunt down and enslave or kill everyone too foolish to contest the issue, as has happened countless times in human history) or “ban war” (said ban apparently enforced by throwing flowers at soldiers).

Understanding that war is a very real and intractable problem is necessary to fully appreciate the genius of Sun Tzu’s work, especially where it avoids fixed and easily definable tactics specific to the Warring States period and instead illustrates timeless concepts of out-thinking the enemy at every level of conflict. That the text is still mostly readily applicable or at least reasonably insightful after thousands of years is a testament to the inability of humans to push warfare beyond the fundamental aspects of conflicting interests and continuum of forcible resolution Sun Tzu addresses.

Still, the particular translation matters far less than having an appreciation that, in war, you have an active opponent who is trying to out-think and counter any moves you make, and having an appreciation of non-dualistic philosophical reasoning more characteristic of Chinese classics generally. The classic symbol of Yin-Yang (and a number of derivative versions) illustrates apparent dualism as being a part of a deeper structural unity which does not permit a fixed division into separate parts.

Hence the difficulty of applying the principles of the Art of War to artificial ideas of “winning/losing” (or war/peace, right/wrong, us/them) as categorical absolutes rather than negotiated possibilities in a continuum of desirability/costs. And it is very difficult, no one should sugar coat that. Humans sort and construct their perceptions of reality by appeal to such gross simplifications. Binary logic is an immensely powerful tool in many areas because it leverages the ability to simplify complexity and then build valid inferences based on fixed premises. But at some point you have to go beyond that to have a more fluid response to reality as it is. Which Sun Tzu does for the reality of war.

I would recommend anyone to read it. At the end of the day it’s a book of highly general aphorisms that effectively synopsise the essential insights that apply to all kinds of human conflicts. Turning an enemy's flank has the exact same effect in 2500 B.C. and in 2000 C.E. and it has the same effect in the boardroom, or public market as it does on the battlefield. Deception and intelligence are still used in exactly the same way, whether conquering foreign lands, or stealing market share from a competitor. It's a book about common sense; but common sense must seem profound to those who have none.

Overall, I think Sun Tzu’s Art of War is a worthy read and not overrated because in our society of over educated achievers, common sense is in as short of supply as it has ever been; if this book can provide the meaningful framework for educating very bright people in down to earth common sense, that can only be a good thing.

The value of the book then is to drive home the fact that, in human conflict, there really is Nothing New Under the Sun (Tzu).

Pardon the pun and thanks for your question.

[ravenkinnie]

TW: Drugs, substance abuse, murder, violence, the Punisher

Another potentially unpopular opinion I've seen on here (and one that I'll actually rant about) is that, Jason is the only good vigilante in the Batfam because he kills people (think the direct quote is "unlike those other feckless bitches" and something like "when you get saved by Red Hood, you know that you'll never have to worry about getting attacked by the same person again". I don't know how to explain to people that killing the type of criminals Jason killed in canon is wrong and harmful (thinking about the 80 Blackgate prisoners he poisoned - hmm you know the American prison system is pretty fucked up i'm sure they all totally belonged there /s). Like. Jason killing the Joker is one thing, but he literally hasn't killed the Joker - Dick did that, Bruce tried to, but Jason hasn't. But like some people make it out like oh, Jason being a killer is fine because he only kills people that deserve it - who, tell me who he's killing? Sex offenders and drug dealers seems to be the most common reply. And I won't touch the sex offenders but drug dealers? Have you heard of the War on Drugs? Have you seen what happens when people in power decide it's okay to openly promote the killing of drug dealers? I don't understand why people think it's fine for Jason Todd to go around killing drug dealers, as if they don't have families, don't have other things that put them in a bad situation. There's a reason why cops in the US (idk if they do this elsewhere) use the Punisher skull as their emblem - and if you advocate for a Jason Todd that punishes criminals, don't be surprised when the right wing weaponizes him against minorities and the red hood helmet starts to get painted on cop cars.

I wrote a paper on the Norwegian prison system which rehabilitates and releases even the "worst" of criminals and just... I live in the US and it seems like we (specifically white people) have such little compassion for anyone who commits crime. Even after the War on Drugs, even after we learned it was a scam, people fall for the crime and punishment rhetoric time after time. Like I live in a suburb where people are so scared of drug dealers my mom literally called our neighbor because someone cut through our yard (and she thought he looked high or something idk). Which I get it, my cousin died from a fentanyl overdose, I understand you don't want that near your kids. But incarcerating or killing drug dealers is not the answer, and I can't stand it when people take that stance on Jason. You can try to explain the 8 drug dealer heads in a duffle bag any way you want, but at the end of the day, I think the batfamily fandom needs to be more careful addressing this issue because demonizing drugs/drug dealers/drug users is literally one of the ways the American government destroys black communities.

And to think, the Jason Todd stan that this opinion came from replied to me because I commented on how Jason likes to run around in Dick's old clothes - something that has absolutely no bearing on his morals, other than he's thrifty which is a good thing actually, something like 85% of clothes ends up in landfills. Sorry for the rant, you asked for it. Sorry if anyone who sees this likes Jason Todd and is offended, you're not bad for liking him, he has an interesting story, just please don't advocate for murdering common criminals, specifically drug dealers.

AAAHHH NOO BUT IVE SEEN SOME OF MY MOOTS DISCUSS THIS BEFORE

sorry it's late and fucking hot I don't have the most comprehensive reply dbdnhd and I do acknowledge that at the end of the day this is fiction but opinions real people hold come from SOMEWHERE - and I think we have a very ingrained belief that crime/bad deed has to be punished and that there are good and evil people and good people only do bad things when influenced by evil people which is exactly the core of jason's belief - and that's interesting for a batfam character, a former robin!! I like when him and bruce are contrasted based on ethics but I don't like when it's meant to show that jason is right and bruce is wrong

batman is an extremely popular and fascinating character because at his core lies the idea that systems that are in place to 'protect' people are corrupt and it's down to individuals who can do something to go against them and look out for others - that's something that will resonate with people even if irl solution can't be to dress up as a bat and beat tf outta people shdhhshs

I have two points to make here:

a) I'm straight up a fucking anarchist who lives in the woods, thinks aliens are listening, and doesn't trust the government but I don't believe systems are corrupt, I believe they operate the way they are meant to operate to punish and control the populations that the system needs to be controlled to keep up the status quo - war on drugs is such a good example for that. drug dealer also exists as this boogeyman, this idea of an evil person waiting to corrupt and destroy the good people but the fact is: people don't get addicted to drugs bc drug dealers exist, people get addicted to drugs because something, not someone, compels them to do drugs, because something (literal us gov) introduced drugs to their communities and drug dealers are just tiny pawns in that game. additionally, many dealers are addicts themselves who got roped into selling to pay for their own use or who got pushed into the margins of society so much that drug trade is the only way to survive they can find

there are like, whole papers and books and thesis done on this so I'm not gonna act like I can analyse it in a tumblr post dhshsjsj but yeah people who think jason is right usually show this weird superiority of 'oh batman doesnt get how to fix gotham like jason does' and like... no, jason gets played like a fiddle by the system the way people he kills do, and whatever he does will always just hit the other pawns and never reach those actually at the top, those who are profitting from finding scapegoats

and like, batman comics don't have to address that bc it's comics, you can write small lmao but don't argue that jason is somehow more enlightened than bruce for killing

b) this brings a question of, if we decide that there has to be punishment for every crime, who gets to decide what punishment is right for what crime? cause there's not a single person who's infallible enough to dictate what the best approach is in every situation

and batman works best as a traumatised man who's loves his city sm he tries to work however he can to protect people from corrupt systems and offer them second chances wherever he can bc that's who batman is at his core - batman is not a punisher he is a protector and he should never be pushed into a role of the punisher bc he's not edgy enough

also bitches are so hard acting like they would kill every villain cause rip to batman but I'm different, y'all are too scared to tell the waitress your order is wrong shut the fuck up lmao the closest any of y'all have been to being batman is getting your ass beat behind the club on a saturday by brenda in her boohoo jumpsuit

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part iv

~

October

We fell in love in October

That's why, I love fall

Looking at the stars

Admiring from afar

~

Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?

It was, it was.

But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.

Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.

Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—

~

“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”

James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”

Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”

“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”

“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.

Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”

Finn just held up his hands in surrender.

“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.

“Ouais, mon soleil?”

Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”

“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.

“Those’re checkered, baby.”

Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”

Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”

Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”

Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”

“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”

Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”

“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.

“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”

“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”

Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”

Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”

“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”

Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.

“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”

Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”

“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.

“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”

Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.

The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.

“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”

Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.

“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.

“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.

“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.

“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”

Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.

“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.

Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”

Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.

“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.

Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”

Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.

“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”

“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.

“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”

“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”

Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”

Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”

Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”

Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”

Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.

“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.

Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”

“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.

Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”

Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”

“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”

“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.

Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”

“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”

Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.

Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”

Finn snorted.

“Plaid,” Logan nodded.

“Checkered,” Leo amended.

“Ouais. Same thing.”

“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

“Non?” he asked.

Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”

Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”

Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.

“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”

Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”

“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.

“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.

Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”

Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.

“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.

“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”

“Right, those big things,” Leo said.

Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.

“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.

Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”

Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”

But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.

“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.

Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.

“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”

“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.

“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”

“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.

“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.

“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”

“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”

Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.

“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”

Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”

Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.

“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”

Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”

He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.

Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”

“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”

Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.

“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”

Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Leo mumbled.

“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”

“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”

Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”

“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.

“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”

“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”

Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.

Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.

Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”

Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.

~

“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”

Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.

His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”

“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”

“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”

Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”

Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”

Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”

Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”

Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”

“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”

Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”

Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”

Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”

They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.

“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.

“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.

“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”

“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”

“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.

“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”

Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”

“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”

His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”

“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”

“Say what to Sirius Black?”

Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.

Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.

It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.

Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.

Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.

“One day, huh, Cole?”

Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”

One day. Cole wanted to believe it.

~

Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?

Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.

Is he anyone’s?

Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?

Oh, you bet.

Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.

Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.” 

Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”

“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.

Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”

Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”

Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”

Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.

“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”

“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”

Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”

“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”

“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”

Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”

“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”

Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”

Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”

Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”

Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.

Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”

Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”

“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”

“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.

Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.

Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.

Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.

He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.

You did it once, do it again.

“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”

James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”

Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”

They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.

“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”

Sirius could only smile back.

~

Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.

Remus had only dreamed of this.

“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.

Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.

“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”

Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.

“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”

The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.

“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”

“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.

Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”

James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.

He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.

The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.

Remus turned his head slightly.

“Love you.”

Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.

“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.

Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—

Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.

Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.

“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.

Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.

“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.

“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.

Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.

Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.

Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.

“Loops.”

Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.

“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”

But he played three more shifts in the first.

The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.

“Yo.”

Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.

“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”

“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”

Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.

Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love you,” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.

Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.

“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.

~

Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?

If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.

“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”

Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.

“If you are.”

“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”

“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”

Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”

“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”

~

“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”

Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.

“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.

Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”

“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”

“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”

“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.

Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”

Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”

“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”

“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”

“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”

“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”

Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”

“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”

Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”

“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”

Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”

Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”

“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”

Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.

“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.

“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.” Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”

Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”

Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”

“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”

Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”

Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”

Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”

“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.

Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.

Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.

“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”

Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”

“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”

“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”

“Mm. Sexy fireman.”

“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.

“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.

“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.

Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.

“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.

“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”

Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”

Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.

“Can I say something?” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”

Remus flushed. “I know.”

Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”

“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”

Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.

“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”

Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”

Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”

Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.

“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.

[trini-trin-trin]

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

[dirk-has-rabies]

Gender variance and it's link with neurodivergency

Okay so this is it going to be another long one

All quotes will be sourced with a link to the scientific journal I took it from

Okay Tumblr, let's talk gender (I know, your favorite topic) my preface on why this topic matters to me is: I'm autistic ( diagnosed moderate to severe autism) I'm nonbinary trans ( in a way that most non-autistic people don't understand and actually look down on)  and I went to college for gender study ( Mostly for intersex studies but a lot of my research was around non-binary and trans identities) I will be using the term autism as pants when I have experience with however when ADHD is part of the study I will use ND which stands for neurodivergent and yes this is going to be about xenogenders and neopronouns.

autism can affect gender the same way autism can affect literally every part of an identity. a big thing about having autism is the fact that it completely can change how you view personhood and time and object permanence and gender and literally all types of socially constructed ideas. let me also say hear that just because Society creates and enforces an idea does it mean that it doesn't exist to all people it just me that there is no nature law saying that it's real and the “rules” for these ideas can change and delete and create as time and Society evolves and changes.  gender is one of those constructs.

Now I'll take it by you reading this you know what transgender people are  (if you don't understand what a trans person is send me an ask and I'll type you up a pretty little essay lmao,  or Google it but that's a scary thought sense literally any Source or website can come up on Google including biased websites so be careful I guess LOL) anyway to be super basic trans people are anyone who doesn't identify as the gender they were assigned at Birth (yes that includes non-binary people I could do a whole nother essay about that shit how y'all keep spreading trying to separate non-binary people from the trans umbrella)  some people don't like to use the label and that is totally fine by the way.

now autistic people to view the world in a way differently than allistic (neurotypical) ppl do.  we don't take everything people teach us at 100% fact and we tend to question everything and demand proof and evidence for things before we can set it as a fact in our brains. This leads to why a lot of autistic people are atheist (although a lot of religions and this is not bashing on religious people at all I am actually a Jewish convert)  this questioning leads to a lot of social constructs being ignored or not understood At All by a lot of autistic people and personally I think that's a good thing.  allistics take everything their parents and teachers and schools teach them as fact until someone else says something and then they pick which ones to believe. autistic people study and research and learn about a topic before forming an opinion and while this may lead to them studying and believing very biased material and spitting it out as fact it can also lead them to try and Discover it is real by themselves.

because of this autistic people are more question their gender or not fall in a binary way at all as the concept of gender makes no sense to a lot of us. “ if gender is a construct then autistic people who are less aware of social norms are less likely to develop a typical gender identity”

no really look: “ children and teens with autism spectrum disorder ASD or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder ADHD  are much more likely to express a wish to be the opposite sex compared with their typical developing peers” That was posted in 2014. we have been saying this stuff forever but no one wants to listen. the thing is gender variance (being not cisgender or at least questioning it)  has always been closely hand-in-hand with autistic and ADHD people I'm even the doctor who did that study understood right away that it all made sense the whole time: “ Dr. Strang said they were initially surprised to find an overrepresentation of gender variance among children with ADHD. However, they later realized that prior studies have shown increased levels of disruptive behavior and other behavioral problems among young people with gender variance”  SEE YOURE NOT WEIRD YOURE JUST YOU AND YOURE NOT ALONE IN THIS!!

5% autistic people who did the study were trans or questioning. it was also equal between the Sexes fun fact. that may not seem like a lot till you realize that the national average is only .7% that's literally over 700% higher than the national average. That's so many! and that's just in America.

 in Holland there was a study in 2010 “ nearly 8% of the more than 200 Children and adolescents referred to a clinic for gender dysphoria also came up positive on a assessment for ASD” they weren't even testing for ADHD so the numbers could be even higher!

now I want to talk about a  certain section of the trans umbrella that a lot of autistic people fall under called the non-binary umbrella. non-binary means anything that isn't just male or just female. it is not one third gender and non-binary doesn't mean that you don't have a gender. just clearing that up since cis people keep spreading that. non-binary is an umbrella term for any of the infinite genders you could use or create. now this is where I'm going to lose a bunch of you and that's okay because you don't have to understand our brains or emotions To respect us as real people. not many allistics can understand how we see and think and relate to things and that's okay you don't have to understand everything but just reading about this could be so much closer to respecting us for Who We Are from you've ever been and that's better than being against us just for existing.

now you might have heard of my Mutual Lars who was harassed  by transmeds for using the term Autigender (I was going to link them but if it gets traction I don't want them to get any hate)  since a lot of people roll their eyes at that  and treated them disgustingly for using a term that 100% applied correctly.  Autigender  is described as " a neurogender which can only be understood in the context of being autistic or when one's autism greatly affects one's gender or how one experiences gender. Autigender is not autism as a gender, but rather is a gender that is so heavily influenced by autism that one's autism and one's experience of gender cannot be unlinked.” Now tell me that doesn't sound a lot like this entire essay I've been working on with full sources…..

xenogenders and neopronouns are a big argument point on whether or not people “believe” in non binary genders but a big part of those genders is that they originated from ND communities and are ways that we can try to describe what gender means us in a way that cis or even allistic trans people just can't comprehend or ever understand. Same with MOGAI genders or sexualities. A lot of these are created as a way to somehow describe an indescribable relationship with gender that is so personal you really cant explain it to anyone who isnt literally the same as you.

Even in studies done with trans autistic people a large amount of them dont even fall on a yes or no of having a gender at all and fall in some weird inbetween where you KINDA have a gender but its not a gender in the sense that others say it is but its also too much of a gender so say youre agender. And this is the kind of stuff that confuses allistic trans people and makes them think nonbinary genders are making stuff up for attention, which isnt true at all we just cant explain what it feels like to BE a trans autistic person to anyone who doesnt ALREADY know how it feels.

In this study out of the ppl questioned almost HALF of the autistic trans individuals had a “Sense of identity revolving around interests” meaning their gender and identity was more based off what they liked rather than boy or girl. That makes ppl with stuff like vampgender or pupgender make a lot more sense now doesnt it? We see that even in the study: “My sense of identity is fluid, just as my sense of gender is fluid […] The only constant identity that runs through my life as a thread is ‘dancer.’ This is more important to me than gender, name or any other identifying features… even more important than mother. I wouldn't admit that in the NT world as when I have, I have been corrected (after all Mother is supposed to be my primary identification, right?!) but I feel that I can admit that here. (Taylor)” and an agreement from another saying “Mine is Artist. Thank you, Taylor. (Jessie)” now dont you think if they grew up with terms like artistgender or dancergender they would just YOINK those up right away????

In fact “An absence of a sense of gender or being unsure of how their gender should “feel” was another common report” because as ive said before in this post AUTISTIC PEOPLE DONT SEE GENDER THE WAY ALLISTIC PEOPLE SEE IT. therefore we wont use the same terms or have the same identities nor could we explain it to anyone who doesnt already understand or question the same way! Participants even offered up quotes such as “As a child and even now, I don't ‘feel’ like a gender, I feel like myself and for the most part I am constantly trying to figure out what that means for me (Betty)” and also “I don't feel like a particular gender I'm not even sure what a gender should feel like (Helen)”

Now i know this isnt going to change everyones minds on this stuff but i can only hope that it at least helped people feel like theyre not broken and not alone in their feelings about this. You dont have to follow allistic rules. You dont have to stop searching inside for who you really wanna be. And you dont have to pick or choose terms forever because just as you grow and evolve so may your terms. Its okay to not know what or who you are and its okay to identify as nonhuman things or as your interests because what you love and what you do is a big part of who you are and shapes you everyday. Its not a bad thing! Just please everyone, treat ppl with respect and if you dont understand something that doesnt make it bad or wrong it just means its not for you. And thats okay.

[mmikmmik2]

If you were to sort the Infinity Train cast(s) into the Major Arcana a la the Persona games, which Arcana would you give everyone?

anon I had SOOOOO much fun thinking about this, thank you so much for sending me this. I sorted all the major characters, plus a few other entries, based on a mix of Arcana symbolism, Persona series character archetypes, and general vibes. I came up with answers I feel pretty good about for all but four of the Arcana. (Was really tempted to say Strength is every human character who doesn't board the train because they can handle their problems on their own lol.) This is going to be a long-winded post, so I thought I’d post just the list as an image (which hopefully won’t be too blurry!) rather than wrestle with Tumblr formatting trying to make a short list, and put a big text wall under the readmore talking more about my picks.

If this list does end up illegible, the same info is under the readmore as text! Plus some characters for Magician, Strength, Justice, and Death that I didn’t want to add to the “official” list because they’re more based on headcanon. (Although my reasoning for some of the “official” picks is pretty weak lol.)

One-One as 0. The Fool

Oh my gosh, what am I?

IT is great at fleshing out character backstories and families, so One-One at the beginning of S1 is one of the few characters who really feels like a blank slate. He's got a lot of his baggage back by the end of the season, and I think One and One-One are more similar than they seem at first glance, but S1 does seem to have been very formative for One-One and how he thinks about what he's supposed to be doing and how he relates to other people. So it does kind of feel like his fool's journey.

Alrick Timmens as I. The Magician

The magician begins the journey... by beefing it on a dirt bike, dying, and sending his wife flying off the deep end. Rip.

Alrick was an engineer like Amelia, so I could see him suiting some of the themes of the Magician, like conscious thought and manifesting ideas. His apparent playfulness and insecurity are similar to the Magician characters in Persona.

Kez as II. The High Priestess

“We can’t make this decision for you, Kez.” “You know what to do.”

I thought really hard about making Kez the Magician because just like every Magician since Persona 3, she's dumb, horny, and insecure dlkjasfdkl

(and also her showing up at the start of the story arc and being helpful but also super needy is very Magician)

But the idea of "intuition" really does suit Kez. Sometimes her intuition is as bad as her conscious reasoning, but I think that's a lot because she's so confused about what happened with Jeremy, and Morgan making Kez feel like she did a bad thing by helping him.

Tuba as III. The Empress

She made me feel like I was warm all the time.

Tuba's a mom. Sorry, this one's not that deep, haha.

Simon Laurent as IV. The Emperor

Highest number! I'm the leader now.

Simon has a lot of issues, but the one that felt the most prominent to me was his unhealthy relationship with power, authority, dominance, and rules. Another quote I considered using here was what he said in Grace's memory of meeting Amelia: "I never thought I'd get to see the Conductor with my own eyes. He's perfect! Everything finally makes sense again." In his emotional crisis, he thought everything could be fixed just by the existence of a huge, scary, powerful, male authority figure, even if they weren't doing anything helpful or informative.

Atticus as V. The Hierophant

I like to think that our stones are sturdy and handsome, like the Corgis that crafted them.

Atticus is a figure of traditional authority who deeply loves the history, society, and culture of his people. He often provides spiritual wisdom and encourages Tulip to get out of her own head and engage with the world around her. Also in Persona, Hiero is the Dad Arcana so it's very funny to me (a) to make the little dog be Hiero and (b) that the little dog really does have the strongest Wholesome Dad Energy of the whole cast.

Jesse Cosay as VI. The Lovers

Don't tell me what to do. I'm not going to be a part of anything like this, on or off the train.

This was my first and easiest pick lol, Jesse is sooooo Lovers. Like, the focus on choice and personal values and relationships? Yep, that's Jesse. It works on an "actual meaning of the Arcana" level and a "vibes with the Persona characters" level lol... popular, upbeat, and having such an identity crisis.

Lake as VII. The Chariot

I'm my own person, who is getting off this train!

I don't know if Chariot captures all the ways Lake grew over the course of S2, but I feel like they had the most externally focused conflict of all the IT characters, which suits Chariot. They've been fighting to stake out their personhood from start to finish, and they took action and used their willpower to achieve that goal. Also they have at least a little jock energy which is a prereq for Chariot tbh.

Frank as VIII. Strength

I dunno, I kinda imagine him as a simple man and easily underestimated, but with a lot of heart. The Cat may say they're keeping things casual but I don't think she'd take him with her on her private vacation unless he had some kind of inner toughness that would let him stand toe-to-toe with her.

Morgan as IX. The Hermit

I need to be alone right now. Kez... maybe... we can talk later.

I like that Morgan embodies toxic self-isolation and stonewalling and rejection, but that she seems to be moving towards the positive aspects of Hermit and taking some time to calm down and process and think. I like it when characters can embody the best and worst of their Arcana.

Tulip Olsen as X. The Wheel of Fortune

We have to adapt to the changes in our lives. It's the only way things can get better.

Tulip has a lot of themes and conflicts, but this one is a clear standout as the most important. I also like it for Tulip because, while she has to handle a lot of difficult and even traumatic situations, some of the change that challenges her isn't as unambiguously bad as e.g. the death of a loved one. It really is just change itself she's struggling with, and that's Fortune babey. Also, from the perspective of the train itself and lots of other characters, by reversing Amelia and One-One's positions again and changing how One-One administrates the train, Tulip is the one giving the wheel a spin. That's fun.

Lucy as XI. Justice

One of my friends once described the Justice characters in Persona as "the ones the player character is ultimately accountable towards", and I like to think of Lucy as kind of being that for Grace (...since Hazel has excused herself). Lucy is the Apex kid we see Grace interact with the most, the first Apex kid Grace admitted to herself that she had harmed (see Grace very briefly showing distress and then regret when Jesse points the harpoons at his face and she stops him), and the first person to confront Grace when she came home in The New Apex.

Min-Gi Park as XII. The Hanged Man

I don't know if we'll sell a single album, but we'll figure that out as we go.

Min-Gi sacrifices his "realistic", "sensible" goals for a more personally (spiritually, even?) enriching life that's beyond his control and outside of the expected norm. Like the Hanged Man, who dangles foolishly upside-down, but as a deliberate choice and in a state of serenity and enlightenment. I also think this arcana suits a reading of Min-Gi's character development as starting off going slower as a way to stall and live in denial, but then going slower with deliberation. Compare his arrogant insistence on refusing to act in The Astro Queue Car to his patience and care in The Castle Car and The Train to Nowhere.

Jeremy as XIII. Death

This isn't about the death of his family - I'm thinking of his reluctance to admit his number was going down. He cared about Morgan and Kez, and it's possible both that he may have really wanted to stay with them despite his exit and that that might even have been a healthy choice - they're real ass people with feelings and everything, not holodeck characters. But I also think Jeremy was using his life with them to avoid moving on out of that fog (because it was hard and it hurt and he didn't want to think about what that would mean for him and Morgan) and Morgan was enabling him.

Ryan Akagi as XIV. Temperance

Maybe the experience is the point. I wasn't just rushing you. I was rushing myself.

I think this one speaks for itself. Also, the other quote I considered putting here, from The Art Gallery Car: "You told me I can't appreciate the song without taking in the rest of the album. I need the whole package."

The Cat as XV. The Devil

I always do the right thing.

Honestly, this is one I really wasn't sure about. The Cat isn't a great pick for a lot of the meanings of Devil. She is definitely consumed by material comforts, and the short-term rewards of ignoring her issues at a long-term cost, though. This is more of a "vibes with Persona characters with this arcana" pick... Devil characters tend to start off being somewhat exploitative or even antagonistic towards the player character, and gradually showing a more conflicted and genuine side.

Amelia Hughes as XVI. The Tower

There's a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be.

Amelia's life is defined by catastrophe and upheaval - both those she's suffered and those she's inflicted on others.

Hazel as XVII. The Star

I'm going to keep loving you like you're still here.

When I think of "The Star" as a small but inextinguishable light in the darkness, Hazel seems like the obvious choice. Although we left her deeply wounded, I think she still has a flicker of her hope, faith, and purpose.

Grace Monroe as XVIII. The Moon

But it's unfair for me to tell you how to understand yourself. I mean, I don't even fully understand me.

Grace is probably the most complex and dynamic character on the show and hence one of the most difficult to place. I considered Empress, Strength, Devil, and Judgement for her... I think ultimately, lies and illusions are the most unifying theme of her character arc. Also, from a Persona angle, her pursuit of status out of a lack of true self-worth reminds me of Ai and Mishima.

Alan Dracula as XIX. The Sun

Brought together by the majesty of a superpowered deer!

I'm sorry dkjasfklads this is largely because I thought it was funny to have this completely inexpressive dead-eyed deer as Sun akfk but also... like... it kind of works okay!!! Think about the genuine joy and comfort and positivity he brings to Lake and Jesse (and me)!

The New Apex as XX. Judgement

"Then what are we gonna be?" "Guess we'll have to figure it out?"

This is kind of a Persona mythology gag again because of Judgement being a group social link near the end of the narratives of P3 and P4, when the protagonists have pierced through the lies and actually figured out who the villain of their game is and are ready to really start making progress.

0 as XI. The World

Ah, train does it again!

It's an ending and the completion of a journey, but also the beginning of a new one. And the world is literally what the passengers receive at the end of their train journey. Welcome home.

[ajdrawshq]

So.... What the fuck! ( Any thoughts? VLR is wild )

if i put the Junpei what the hell compilation here does that count as an answer

ok i do actually have thoughts yes. so many thoughts. might take me a sec to form words out of em bc of the sheer.. something. whatever just happened and im also lowkey sleep deprived rn i have shrimp emotions and i also cant feel anything

hmm ok one of the things i wanted to mention was that earlier i almost thought Quark couldve been some kinda abondoned Left clone but they have different eye colors so thats crossed off the list. that Does make it kinda weird that Quark mentions freeing his soul during that one scene, but i guess we're supposed to assume he just picked it up from somewhere? like he heard abt it on earth at some point? i doubt Dio wouldve said anything to him abt it in the pod, and even then i dont think hed quote him during That if he did. but how well known were the Myrmidons for him to hear that?? or was it from Junpei/what Junpei was talking abt when he said he was involved during the mars expiriment thing??? idk i just thought that was a weird connection that they didnt directly address.. i think. i couldve missed smth there

im not even gonna try to understand the entirety of the time jumping stuff when it comes to switching bodies and all that. youd think id be prepared for this kinda thing considering all the stuff ive played so far! i am not. looking at the picture they used to show how Sigma's been jumping all over the place legit gave me motivation to do my homework bc that would be easier to comprehend

on that note im like. how do i put this. i was actually super interested in where all this stuff was going for a long while bc the ideas being used were cool even if the execution was a lil wonky. like im so down for time shenanigins (with memory fuckery!! come on!!) and clones and humanlike robots and a lot of other stuff they had going on. i actually like what they were doing when they expanded the morphogenetic field stuff, although i Do wanna think of that as completely seperate from how it is in 999 bc of the retconned stuff :/ other than that what they had going on was pretty cool but. the ending just. i ,,, i dont even know the way it all came together feels so weird???? like it technically makes sense and i get what they were going for. its. ???? i wanna say what im looking for is "anticlimactic" but idk if thats right. its just..... Weird.

however i also wanna say that i am at least glad they touched on the different views of people being stuck in the "worse" timeline? Junpei being glad to have Quark despite everything while Clover and Alice have to deal with leaving behind half a century along with their friends and family. even tho they just kinda went jk lol at that part immediately afterwards???????? but whatever i guess

the characters in general were pretty fun tbh? not quite as real-feeling as 999 but still enough to be enjoyable. it was nice seeing Junpei reference a bunch of stuff from 999 and retain some pieces of himself all these years later, especially when he quoted Light ("fake, a replica, not the real thing...") its horrifying to think abt all hes been thru at this point tho ,,, Clover seemed a lot more outgoing than before but a year can change u so i cant say much abt that, it was cool to see her again regardless. Alice is an interesting one and i liked her even if she was kind of frustrating to go against in the AB games lmao. Luna has lowkey been one of my favorites thru the whole thing but i had a hard time fully trusting her for so long bc of how suspiciously innocent she was lol which wasnt entirely baseless either but yknow. Dio is admittedly funny and ridiculously good at acting like hes a normal person its actually scary. also whered he hide the bombs before planting them bc they didnt seem That small. anyway uhh Quark is a funny little guy and its nice that he straight up doesnt die (usually?? i cant remember if theres a route where he does. other than the bombs) and!!! i actually really enjoyed Kyle. no idea why. wish he didnt abandon me so many times but it fuckin be like that i guess. accidental revenge for absent fatherism. and.. Sigma. when u said u do not like him i think im with u now. not necessarily strong feelings but. yeah. but PHI.. god i wish they actually said where she came from shes just HERE and they never fuckin elaborated man who is she. she is so cool tho i love when she goes on her tangents abt stuff <3

AL OF THAT SAID u were very right when u said the puzzles in this game are fun. even tho i had to check a guide a few times bc i was genuinely clueless for some of em (u have no idea how stumped i got in the darts part of the white room puzzle. i should never do mental math this late i cant live that one down) theyre mostly really good and i did enjoy those sections especially