#i should hate you out of principle but i’m actually kind of in love with you

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

—————————��——————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[attentiondealer]

what if you were a vampire… and i was a werewolf… and we kissed… and we were both girls???

[ilikekidsshows]

Okay so I'm not going to act like Chloé is a harmless angel (trust me those people irritate me almost as much as the haters do).

But am I the only one who finds it kind of hypocritical that she's the one who's punished for relying on her Miraculous when at least FOUR other characters have relied on their Miraculouses to improve themselves instead of doing it on their own?

Adrien relies on his to run away from his model life, Zoé relies on her's to have any character at all, Juleka relied on her's to learn how to speak to people, and Sabrina relied on her's to break away from Chloé. There's more examples, but those are just the fair few.

Like don't get me wrong, I get why Chloé was taken off the team as much as I hate it (not because I'm dying to see her as a hero, but because it would've been nice to have a holder that doesn't flock to Ladybug all the time), but I feel like the above stuff really undercuts the message of improving one's self without handholding. Like you could've done a million things with Chloé misusing a Miraculous and this show didn't do shit with it.

Did Chloé actually try to improve herself with her Miraculous, though? Like, don’t get me wrong, I love stories about heroes growing into their powers and becoming better people through trying to find a use for their sudden superpowers, but that’s very explicitly not the story that was going on with Chloé. Chloé was using her Miraculous to improve her lot in life. She wasn’t trying to grow as a person, she was trying to get something she wanted, while her personality remained largely the same.

However, I also don’t believe in moralizing over what heroes use their powers for, as long as they are ultimately still heroes. I do think heroes should get some joy out of being a hero, because otherwise the story is just about a good, caring person suffering for the sake of the world, which is not a story that appeals to me. I don’t like stories about noble suffering in the face of hardship and zero acknowledgement, because it glorifies the suggestion that we should all just buck up and suffer in silence no matter how unfairly we’re treated because that’s the “morally right” thing to do.

Basically, I think it’s fine that the characters in Miraculous use their Miraculous powers to get stuff they want as long as they don’t hurt others to do so, which they don’t. Frankly, if Chloé’s unreliability as a hero was just because she wanted the accolades she gets as a hero, I’d also think she should get to keep her Miraculous, because that’s still a motivation to do good. I also agree that having less shiny examples of heroes in a team causing friction can create interesting team dynamics. However, that’s also not what Chloé’s story is actually about.

Chloé made her identity public. One of the big points of this series is the secrecy around the Miraculous and the secret identities. The only exception to this is the writers’ tool Félix, and it’s the reason I think he is one. The other characters constantly talk about the importance of keeping their identities a secret, it’s literally the lesson and main point of the episode ‘Sapotis’, and the first thing Chloé does with her Miraculous is tell everyone she has it, show them how it works, and what hero she becomes with it. Chloé gets repeatedly told that it’s not safe to give her a Miraculous, but she refuses to listen. Actually, I’m pretty sure that no one in the show actually says that she doesn’t deserve her Miraculous. It was always presented as a security issue, even when the characters talk about it outside of Chloé’s presence.

The view of Chloé as undeserving of a Miraculous comes from the fandom, who’ve seen how she never started treating her classmates better, actually treating Sabrina even worse, despite her claims of wanting to be a hero. The show doesn’t point out her hypocrisy in this, which is why she’s never rejected on that principle by the characters. Chloé was morally unworthy, but that wasn't the reason in-story for her getting "fired". The only reason Marinette gives for not giving her a Miraculous is her identity being public posing a security risk.

[lucysweatslove]

Incoming med-Ed rant:

Okay to preface, I generally like my classmates. I think we are all trying and I know that racism is really hard to combat and some of the more “casual” or implicit biases are trickier to even see in yourself. The student I’ll be calling out is usually a very kind and supportive person to all races and I think she legitimately didn’t realize this was kinda racist.

My class does well on exams compared to other cohorts. We are usually the top of all 6 campuses and about 4-5% higher than the school-wide average. This only comes out (typically) to 2 questions more than the average. This isn’t great discriminatory power- but it’s a trend.

I’m all for celebrating success, but today it got to the point where it felt more like pushing down the other cohorts/campuses rather than recognizing the factors that help us succeed. One thing I feel strongly: my success ideally should never come at the expense of another’s. There are times where success is based on comparison, but I want to see us ALL reach goals and do our best and learn etc etc. It is one reason I hate applications (eg the process of applying) so much- I don’t see myself as any more (OR LESS) worthy than anybody else.

Anyway my class was talking about how well we do in comparison and why other cohorts don’t match us? And so I reminded them of two things: one, my cohort studies a lot and it’s p/f so other cohorts may have different priorities, and two, we have ESL students. I know one in in a large city campus, pretty sure another is in another smaller campus, but I don’t know them all nor do I expect to. I just know they’re there.

Anyway after I mentioned ESL students, somebody then said “maybe in the larger campuses but not like, [smaller campuses].”

So ofc I said no, actually, I think there is an ESL student in [smaller campus].

Here is why I’m so annoyed by this: the implication when you don’t know the other campuses is that a smaller more rural campus couldn’t have an ESL student. 10% of the population in the area this campus serves is Spanish-speaking, idk what percent of that is Spanish primary but it’s a good amount that speaks Spanish. It just seems a little racist to assume that these people wouldn’t be going to our med school at all.

I get not knowing and expecting, given demographics, that it’s more likely to have ESL students in the “big city” cohorts. But don’t assume. “Do you know if there are ESL students in the smaller cohorts?” Is a more appropriate way of asking. Because it an ask, not an assumption. I joke that my assumptions are “usually correct,” but that’s because I DONT MAKE THEM. Statistics may tell us who is more or less likely to have a given characteristic, but it doesn’t tell us anything definitive about any single person or even sample. You can make a hypothesis, but the key to a hypothesis is that you stay entirely open to other ideas if the evidence fits.

Honestly, it’s more than just the language assumption made here, too. It’s the association of the marginally higher test scores with intrinsic factors and this kinda refusal to acknowledge that it doesn’t make us somehow “better.” The point of p/f is to give us room to make mistakes and use mistakes as learning tools, reduce the stress of comparison, reduce the stress of medical school in general… and to remind us that’s it’s okay to not be perfect right now. But my cohort‘s success so far- which I love for them in principle- seems to be inflating their ego.

I’d also like to say: I like that we are thinking about WHY we do better, and I think that even if it’s a marginal “better,” it’s a good idea for faculty who design curriculum to ask, is there a reason for this? Because if there is and it’s actionable, we could implement it on other campuses. Eg, if the adjusted slides our block lead makes really are more effective, then the entire school should get them. If we consistently, even if subtly, outperform with certain subjects, maybe our lecturer who gives those talks could record their lecture and that could be the basis for others, or the main points and pedagogy could help us teach our faculty to better teach. If it’s just something like we study more, meh, that’s also doesn’t matter. But I HIGHLY doubt our class is just blanketly like, more intelligent. 🙃

[xieyaohuan]

Get to know your fic writer prompts, answer however many of these you are inclined to: 22, 35, 39, 63, 64. And I think I can answer 43 for you 😂 but if you have any elaborations… please.

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Not sure I'd rule it out on principle, but I certainly don't write a lot of fluff, and I don't think I'd want to. Don't really write any comedy/humor, either, but it's more lack of talent there.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

This is cliché af but if I'm trying to write a villain for fic where I'm trying to make a serious point, it's "they're the protagonist of their own story" and have complex emotional lives and motives for what they're doing. That said, when I write porn, I sometimes enjoy writing characters who are fully aware they are being evil sadistic bitches and simply dgaf because uhm I can relate.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

“You need to tell your husband,” Maeve is letting the word melt on her tongue, “to back the fuck off and leave us alone.”

“You know I ain’t responsible for the cunt just because he’s decided he wants to play beauty and the fucking beast with me, right?”

Billy still has his own place, but he likes staying over at Vought Tower more than he cares to admit. Homelander is clingy and needy and willing to do just about anything if it’ll get him Butcher’s time and attention. He’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t enjoying Homelander serving him breakfast in the morning, pouring him tea naked on his knees or making Billy feed him little morsels of French toast dipped in milk, begging to let him suck on his fingers. He is absolutely ridiculous in ways Butcher could have never foreseen, and he's enjoying it more than he should.

“Fascinating,” Maeve says. “I can’t decide which one of you is the beauty and which one is the beast.”

“I’m the beauty. Obviously.” Butcher bends over and starts kissing her, his hands searching for her bra under her shirt.

But Maeve isn't having any of his distractions this time and pushes him away. “Tell him to back the fuck off, I mean it, Butcher.”

“Know what?” Billy says. “I’ll do you one better. You can tell him yourself, and I bet you'll even get yourself an apology.”

Maeve burst our laughing, spitting her coffee half across the table. “An apology? From Homelander? What are you smoking these days?”

This time, it’s Billy’s turn to laugh. “Oh, I promise you you’ll get one. Tell you what, if you don’t, I’ll clean for you naked for a full month. How does that sound?”

Maeve grins. “Deal.”

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

LOL I mean, what can I say. I love torturing my blorbos and making them beg (and I occasionally also love exploring the psychological aftermath of the ordeal). But I don't really enjoy gore, mutilation, or anything like that. Yes, it's gotta be unbearable for blorbo in the moment and he'd do anything to make it stop, but I want no organ damage or even a character death (I've made one character death exception in a fic, but I don't enjoy seeing my blorbos tortured if I know they're going to fucking die from it; definitely a massive instant turnoff.)

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

A couple of things. First, I guess, is basic mistakes, like, no lube of any kind during anal sex unless you're in ABO verse I guess, which I actually also kinda hate for no particular reason. Basic anatomy, too. Brings out my inner Stannis Baratheon. Then I just have a ton of super specific squicks that'll absolute ruin a fic for me. For smut I otherwise adore, I try to ignore them, but it's hard because they're instant turn-offs. I am hellafucking particular about any tickle fics I read, and it's almost impossible not to ruin one for me at least a little bit lol.

64. Something you love to see in smut.

Lots of things, light dom/sub dynamics, lots of begging and whimpering, big fan of bondage. Loss of control. Las Vegas State of Mind was super hot. Also dubcon and fucked up dynamics. Big humiliation kink. Trying to decide if I should count whump as smut because some of it sure is for me lol.

[bustyasianbeautiespod]

The Them taking out the Horsemen narratively and thematically important for GO’s view on humanity and love and community… but I do always find it a little underwhelming tbh. This is also true for me in the book, but the book makes the visual parallels between each of the Them and their respective Horseman clearer so it made more sense. In the book we also have the Them gathering play versions of the Horsemen’s summoning items.

And no for sure “cheek” was about the “gentlemen” comment. You bring in Brian Cox for the absolute gravitas and you make him do that, smh.

Speaking of the ladies, to your point about Pepper being a feminist but her hold on what that means is unclear… do they kind of write Anathema like that as well? Is it ok because basically everyone except Adam is an idiot, so the women should be silly as well? Like even our main ethereal girlies are wildly incompetent and that’s what spurs the whole story (but hot, important to remember they’re both insanely hot and in love, and so they are forgiven because I have principles).

What I’m saying here is thank you for making a 3+ hour ep that I am 1/3 of the way through lol

HI!! agreed on the underwhelmingness in both show and book. it's more disappointing for it to be eh in the book bc you'd think that gaiman - who has written a lot of quite good children's books - would be able to capture the whole power of belief/fairytale logic idea behind that scene while imbuing it w actual intrigue, but ig that's just not rlly the tone the book was going for? and i like that they braided a crown out of grass and got a stick sword and everything! and that wensley swung the play scales around like a weapon it's a fun visual!

THANKS FOR THE CONFIRMATION. he literally made death sexist. he made DEATH sexist. that wasn't even in the book he just wanted to make death sexist. DEATH!!!!!!!!!! spn-ass writing (i don't even know if death is sexist in spn but uriel feels sexist sometimes and it's like. that is an entire angel who hates humanity and the earth so so much that he actually wouldn't develop an understanding of gender or the patriarchy imo)

yeah, i do think anathema is written similarly to pepper regarding her beliefs- she feels them very strongly but some are misguided or based on misinfo. it does make sense that everyone's incompetent bc i think gomens is about how it's not the best of humanity who save the world, it's some cringefail weirdos with a passion for something and who are trying, which is quite nice! but it does feel different when wensley's quirk is saying "actually" a lot and pepper's is... being a feminist? like everything is political but anathema and pepper's things are more directly political. and it is perfectly fine to make fun of feminists/lefties who don't rlly know their shit through specific instances of character writing if the show at large still values feminism and leftism, but given how the women are written (also HE MADE DEATH SEXIST????) and the things grey and i mentioned about the use of north africa in ep 2, gomens also falls short there. it's all a mixed bag though - obv pepper's "i do not endorse everyday sexism" is part of her Hero Moment, so we are supposed to admire her for her beliefs there, but we're clearly supposed to laugh at "another deluded victim of the patriarchy" and the did-you-just-assume-my-gender-esque exchange during the bike convo in ep 1. and obv you don't have to Make An Unambiguous Statement through clapping and cheering every time one specific char says things, but when you make one character The Feminism Character, it does feel like you're making a statement even in places you aren't. but again, this rlly would all be fine and forgotten if the women were written better

damn that got long but i loveee that you called aziraphale and crowley "our main ethereal girlies." they rlly rlly are. and thank YOU for this ask!!! it was a joy to answer <3

- Crystal :)

[midnightactual]

more prosaically: the Shiba building a bunch of bunkers in Rukongai and always being viewed with suspicion by the other Five Great Noble Clans for their charity toward Hollows and Wholes and even the Soul King (a position they originally intended to occupy themselves!!!) and their love of freedom of information and egalitarianism and opposition to hierarchy and classism and their disdain for Soul Society’s organizing principles and what not...

... is exactly in line with the basic conceit of Yoruichi’s organization of Rukongai into a unified political entity under non-coercion using the brand name of the United Nations to shove a stick into the spokes of the reincarnation cycle by preventing the majority of passive deaths (by murder) in Rukongai, thus forcing the Seireitei to take a good long hard look in the mirror and either A. reform, or B. declare war by setting about actively liquidating wholes as Mayuri did in TYBW but on a larger and more persistent scale:

this kind of behavior versus a politically organized Rukongai would not just be random war crimes perpetuated by a metropole on a periphery (imperialism) but an actual aggressive act of war between peers which could be responded to in kind and at scale. it would also be risky to contemplate for Shinigami as 1. Yoruichi team stronk, 2. the Seireitei would be completely surrounded, 3. still weak from TYBW/CFYOW, 4. at strong risk of civil war given most members would not want to engage in random war crimes, 5. the new Central 46 under Nayuri Amakado wants to be nice and reformist and doesn’t want to “send in the tanks” and neither does Captain-Commander Shunsui whom CFYOW explicitly spells out hates the system (and all but suggests he has a plan to slowly bring it down himself)

it is essentially the exact same plot hooks and direction just with different packaging: Crashing Heaven’s Downfall

(I could’ve called Yoruichi’s efforts the Soul Defense Initiative or something instead of invoking the U.N. but co-opting known brands instead of building a new one is just smart marketing and legit everyone knows what the U.N. is and ideally should be even if it routinely falls way short of expectations; for the record, Japan is its third-biggest financial backer and Japanese attitudes toward the U.N., while lower than peers on most questions, are still majority or supermajority positive on major issues, so it would resonate with a bunch of Japanese ghosts living in abject poverty and fear of being murdered by feudal Mad Max sword gangs)

so! you there, from like 16 months ago, anon!

tbh it sometimes feels like you take your muse a *little* too seriously. The bleach narrative doesn't take itself seriously *all* the time and derives humour from it. The metas and the well reasoned headcanons are great but at times they read like you wished Yoruichi was a character in, not a different story, but a different genre.

I’m gonna finally respond now: same genre! same plots! same ideas! same goofy mix of serious and comedy! I just pitch a little more like Deadpool than Kubo and call a spade a spade: Bleach is a cyberpunk setting in ghostly trappings with lots of political commentary and themes. that’s just how it is! I’ll give you another two for free that are unrelated: Shinigami are totally a commentary on Japanese salarymen and office ladies in the ’80s and ’90s, and Ichigo’s despair being Karakura is a commentary on the Lost Decade! you can read a lot into Bleach!

[oscillator]

In Defense of “Synthetic”

This is the script and slides from a talk I gave in Malmö Sweden at “The Conference” in August 2022. 

When I say I’m a synthetic biologist, I usually get one of these three responses:

The first and probably my favorite is 😳what are you even talking about? This one is great, someone who’s never heard of synthetic biology! A blank slate! 

For the techy types, I can explain that it’s like programming DNA to develop new kinds of products, 

or for the more arty types maybe I can explain that it’s about designing biological materials, 

or for the more normy types with real jobs I can just say “I work in biotech.” I work for a company called Ginkgo Bioworks that does genetic engineering as a service for other businesses. 

The second type of response is the jokes, and I also love these. “Oh synthetic biology, it’s like real biology but made up!” Yes, kind of! Exactly! We ARE trying to make things with biology. 

Or maybe something more like “huh, a synthetic biologist—like you’re a robot doing experiments?” Um also sort of? In my lab days I sometimes felt like a robot 

and these days at Ginkgo we use tons of robots to make biology easier to engineer. 

There’s a third one that looks at synthetic biology as a brand, which is something I think about a lot in my role, where I work on design, communication, ethics, policy, perception–in one word, our brand. 

Brand comments actually takes two forms: On one side you have the people who think that synthetic biology is only a “good brand”—is synthetic biology anything at all other than a rebranding of genetic engineering that’s better at raising capital from VCs, or perhaps tricking people into not thinking about GMOs? On the other side you have the people who think synthetic biology is a terrible brand “don’t you know people hate things that are ‘synthetic’? You really should rebrand.” 

So I’ll start with the latter—the people who think I should rebrand since synthetic is bad—because I get it, synthetic has come to mean anything made with old biology, from the fossil fuels that humans have managed to extract from the ground and refine into the myriad things that we enjoy in our everyday life. Synthetic means unnatural, it means pollution, chemicals–it comes from this world, not the world of living things. No one wants synthetic, everyone and everything wants to be natural (no matter how they are actually made). 

So I’d like to offer a defense of synthetic, not because I love smoke stacks and fossil fuels and not because it’s a “good brand” for GMOs, but for ideological reasons—because at its heart synthetic is about bringing things together to make something greater than the sum of its parts. 

Synthetic does not need to mean the opposite of natural, and in fact the reason why we think it does is exactly why I think we need to embrace synthesis again. The concept of nature is built on a fundamental division. 

It is about cleaving ourselves as humans from everything else. We define nature as that which is not us, nature is everything outside of the human world. Nature is the opposite of culture, it’s the opposite of technology. 

In this formulation, nature is separate from and it is below us, something that we must dominate and control so that we may survive and flourish. Synthetic materials made by humans therefore offered us better living through chemistry because technology was meant to save us from the vicissitudes of the growing cycles and the whims of weather and pestilence. 

Today, many of us in industrialized parts of the world have become free from the tyranny of nature, but we suffer from new tyrannies of pollution and climate change. We therefore seek out ways to go back to natural, but even now “natural” still depends on the same fundamental principle of separation and control, which then permeates the marketing and culture of natural products. “Natural” now is about the quest we must go on to choose the right products to purify ourselves from the sins of synthetic chemistry. Natural in this case isn’t really about connecting with that which is outside of us, but again becomes about a kind of exclusion, this time what our products are ”free from.” These new purity rituals define so much of our relationship to our everyday life and culture, from the foods we eat to the cosmetics and even medicines we choose.

Much more sinister and damaging is how nature and science have been used as tools of social control, to justify the divisions and dominations of colonialism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. From ideas about women’s “natural” roles in society, to the “natural” or biological obviousness of the gender binary and heterosexual monogamy, to “natural” differences between populations from different parts of the world, this kind of appeal to “scientific facts” about the “natural” order of things has always been used as a tool of oppression. 

The division between nature and technology also means that we have inherited a very atrophied imagination of what technology can be, and a technology that continues to replicate these social structures of domination. “Technology” becomes a very specific type of work, associated with a very particular type of person. It affects what we value, what we invest in, what we pay attention to. Ursula Le Guin lamented this in a rant on technology and about how her own work was devalued as less “scientific” than other kinds of sci-fi because it deals with technology in a much more expansive sense, as, in her words, “the active human interface with the material world.” 

Instead of this expansive technology, we have a much more limited view of technology and technological visions that seek to entirely escape the physical reality of this world while still enforcing scarcity in order to perpetuate systems of control. 

I think it’s time for a very different vision. Not to rebrand synthetic biology, but to reconfigure the relationship between nature and technology and the synthesis of the two. We don’t want the divisive technology of the metaverse, but the synthetic technology of the meatverse. 

We need to celebrate the meatverse because our technology is also pathetically small when compared to what biology can do. What is a computer compared to four billion years of evolution? Of organisms that can grow anywhere, of seeds that can grow into plants, a pulling carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere. Humans can’t figure out how to make things without asphyxiating our planet and filling it with garbage. Biology makes all of us, all our bodies, all of this in a fundamentally regenerative way. We have to learn to work with biology, and bring these worlds together synthetically. 

This is an urgent task. We have reached the end of what is possible to sustain with technology cleaved off from nature. Our attempts to dominate nature in order to free ourselves from the scarcity of our environments have led to a world where we have more than we need but we face a threat of extinction because of our technology’s exhaust. Murray Bookchin, a theorist and pioneer of the environmental movement wrote in his book Post-Scarcity Anarchism that “Man had to acquire the conditions of survival in order to live, now we have to acquire the conditions of life in order to survive.” 

I believe that for us to survive and flourish, the future must be synthetic: a union of nature and technology, and of science and technology with politics, art, and culture. These synthetic movements must remove not only our desire to dominate nature but also to dominate each other. 

So I’ll leave you with a sketch of what this synthesis could look like. A world where we can revel in our biological experience and our creative energy can grow and shape the physical world. Where we can design new materials and new experiences together with nature. Where students and scientists can exchange new biological programs the way they share make-up tips on tiktok.

Where your local pharmacy brews new strains of microbes producing the ingredients and medicines you need, grown to order in custom strains. Your local flower shop sells seeds with custom genomes, accounting for our allergies and preferences. 

Where your living room is appointed with the coziest mushroom material, and our fashion is shaped by the dynamics of cell cultures and the custom colors and patterns we co-design with them. 

Where, biological programmers log into the wood wide web using the latest web-tree protocols. Our conversations are written in DNA. Where industrial pollution once left behind damaged soil, we grow new forests. 

I believe that the future is synthetic—because the future depends on what we can imagine and make together. 

I hope you’ll join me.

[eruverse]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you’d like to know better!

Tagged by @tianshiisdead thank youuu 🌞

What book are you currently reading?

I should finish The Secret History of the Mongols… I generally don’t read books because my reading focus is abysmal lol. I read what I want to read exactly at that moment and immediately jump to other things I want to know about, so it’s rare that I finish thick books.

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year?

Since the pandemic happened I have never visited one lol. But in general I also don’t really watch movies.

What do you usually wear?

Long dresses. Also I usually wear hijab to meet people I know. My clothes have to be comfortable and easily manageable, if not I get grumpy easily. I’m also rather particular about sleeves because one of my pet peeves is long sleeves catching on food and I dislike white because I have to really take care not to stain it.

How tall are you?

151 cm 🌞

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

Irl I go by my birth name but I have a nickname around family.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

Nooo lol. But now I want to have a plot of land I can garden in.

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?

Single and ready to mingle. Mongolia is my crush, tell me where I can find a guy like him.

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

I have a very good intrapersonal skill and bad at people’ing. I’m quite asocial and still discovering social norms and dynamic at my age lol.

Dogs or cats?

Cats.

What’s something you would like to create content for?

I’m already making contents for what I like. Usually only make contents for what I really like also.

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?

Is it bad to admit that I really love my drawing style? I think I have a unique drawing style that people can hardly find anywhere but in mine, and I work hard for it🌞 My coloring though needs Work. But I both am kinda afraid of color and in principle dislike it compared to creating shapes.

I used to have shoujo artstyle. This year my drawing style has changed rapidly, and I was told now my artstyle looks josei. I am very pleased with this development 🌞

I also love my oc designs. I care a Lot and work very hard on them.

Contentwise if it doesn’t pass at least 80% of my current standards I’m not releasing it. Comics and writings tho, doodles not included.

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

What I personally call trifecta; in Hetalia, Mongolia-Kazakhstan-Russia. Or what I also call Russia and his Boobs. I think about them everyday.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

My thesis. God I hate school.

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

Designing clothes. But unlike gardening I don’t find much value in designing, even though I quite like it, so I guess it’ll stay mostly unexplored but we’ll see in the future.

Are you religious?

I am a believer. But I’m a Muslim who doesn’t actually pray, so… 💦 but I fast, don’t eat pork and other kinds of forbidden meat, and don’t consume alcohol. But another reason I don’t drink is also for a fear that I might stab people. What if I’m a crazy drunk? So I guess in general I’m actually pretty religious.

On praying: it’s laziness usually, don’t copy me please.

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

Always, always wish for more courage, more and more courage.

Tagging: @flyingmerdekaman @cookieshower @mongolmaral @justknocking @ariuka-munkh only if you really want to tho!! No pressure!!

[biblioflyer]

Discovery Rewatch 3 Episode Check In: Synthesizing Humble Pie

3 Episode Check In

The first three episodes feel like they were originally intended to be one cinematic length piece, much like the episodes that establish the other series. Three episodes gets us the key characters, the premise, and enough worldbuilding to give us a feel for the ways in which this a continuation of “classic” Star Trek and the ways in which it is a departure.

I shared some of my pre-rewatch thoughts about the show here. TL/DR: I remembered it worse.

Some deeper thoughts and reactions specifically to the character of Michael Burnham and what I think a too casual reading of the show misses.

What I liked:

Burnham: I like the idea of a character that is trying to get out from under the shadow of their worst mistake, who is actually even more committed to Starfleet and its values as a consequence of going against them and it going horribly, horribly wrong. I have a conspiracy theory that a lot of people who make some of the less cringe critiques of the character were entirely put off by the deep dive into the Sarek family drama and the “messianic” Red Angel predestination paradox, and then never really updated their opinions. S1 Burnham appears to be firmly within the Bell Curve of Starfleet uber competency.

The Burnham of this first arc is not a bad person, she means well, but she’s all Vulcan fixation on outcomes without the grounding in Vulcan ethics exemplified by the likes of Spock. Whether it's fair to blame this exclusively on Sarek or if it's a consequence of being immersed in a retconned Vulcan society that has suppressed even empathy in favor of outcomes focused logic, remains to be seen. 

I do wonder how much of the early Discovery hate comes from having a main character who is, well, kind of an asshole, and not in a charming way, and it kind of seems like the main reason she hasn’t been bounced for her nonstop microaggressions is a mix of authentic competency and patronage. Which is not very Starfleet. It's also not not Starfleet. Starfleet loves its third, fourth, and fifth chances. Except for mutinies and starting holy wars.

It was a BIG swing to launch the first new series in over a decade with a flawed character trying to be a better person in the middle of a desperate war doing everything it can to make her an even worse person than the one who nerve pinched her captain and tried to gaslight her crew into assassination. And I’m surprising myself with how much I’m actually more “here for that” than I was back in 2017.

Lorca: I forgot what a brilliant snake he is. Excellent actor, excellent writing. He plays the crew like a well tuned instrument: exploiting their anxieties, their vanities, and their principles. It's not an original thought but we are making a mistake if, when rolling our eyes at the high touch, high levels of validation and reassurance that defines Burnham’s command style and the intra-crew dynamics of later seasons, we don’t factor in Lorca’s gaslighting and the atrocities the Discovery crew were accessories to, if not directly responsible for, under his command.

Saru: Doug Jones is a treasure. In retrospect, they should have tested the redesigned Klingon costumes on him first so that he could figure out how to move and emote, and then mentor the Klingon performers. This is the character to pay attention to if you’re at risk of drinking the “Burnham is always right” koolaide that the fiercest critics of the show are constantly imbibing. He’s the conscience that Burnham, whether through trauma or social programming, has suppressed at this point in the series. He’s the flight to her fight and if you think he’s excessively timid, okay fair. 

But so far? He may not win any medals for valor, but if everyone had followed his advice to this point, there’d be no Klingon War to test just how much the Federation is willing to sacrifice for its principles. Saru is what makes this feel like classic Star Trek. Multiple characters are presenting different moral arguments rooted in culture, experience, and how these influence their perception of a situation and while it's tempting to throw our lot in with the main character, I don’t think we’re supposed to take Burnham uncritically. Which feels like a departure for Star Trek, but then its not like Jean luc Picard didn’t have to be talked into not committing genocide by inaction repeatedly.

Georgiou: Philippa Georgiou is frankly an ideal Starfleet Captain and mentor figure. It's a pity she’s killed off for pathos and for contrast to the sadistic Empress. She switches between nurturing and tough as nails as the situation calls for it. There’s echoes of the Kirk - Spock dynamic in her first scene with Burnham where she’s gently poking at Burnham’s “always on” business like demeanor but no question that she’s the Captain. The mix of rage and despair in her eyes and demeanor when she staggers out of the ready room, phaser drawn to confront Burnham is just phenomenal.

Affirmations of Starfleet values: I’ll unpack this in greater detail, but the first three episodes are actually way more of a validation of traditional “Trek” values and themes than I remembered. Characters geeking out over sciency stuff, stern lectures about moral decency. All the stuff that shaped my childhood. The instances where a character behaves in a very “not-Starfleet” way have absolutely cataclysmic consequences.

USS Shenzou: I really like the Walker-class. Most of the rest of the fleet that appears at the Battle of the Binary Stars feels rather generic and out of place temporally, much more TMP era. Whereas Shenzou for whatever reason is a ship that feels like it could be a direct predecessor to the much more streamlined Constitution-class generation but is still very “industrial.”

USS Discovery: the original, pre-32nd refit configuration was not something I originally liked all that much but it grew on me over the course of the first three seasons. I never warmed up to the “A” refit. I really didn’t realize how much I had actually come to like the stock Crossfield-class until the “A” refit was reversed.

Space is very pretty: Except it’s not, not really. But that’s okay. I like to think that in some way Discovery is a love letter to Babylon 5 which I feel is actually the progenitor of the modern trend to use brilliant nebulae and other stellar phenomena as window dressing for space scenes.

What I didn’t like:

Prison labor: 

I can headcanon this as the Federation offering prisoners a way to demonstrate good behavior and be of service in exchange for leniency, but at least one of the prisoners is an unapologetic murderer and it's clear that dilithium mining has a better than zero chance of being a death sentence. 

My complaint here is not that I think the murderer is worthy of sympathy: my stance on exercising a high threshold of human dignity and sanctity of life is that this exercise is for the one doing the exercise, not the recipient. The recipient’s degree of merit or their capacity for redemption is not relevant to whether or not affording them decency is a good thing, the affordance of decency is moral exercise in the same way pushups are exercise for the physical heart. 

Moral allowances for the mistreatment of people outside the social contract IS a slippery slope and labeling it a fallacy is an attempt to refute reality. We are not always objective when it comes to correctly identifying who is unworthy of a minimum standard of treatment and the greater the harm we permit ourselves when we think someone is in breach of the social contract, the less likely we can undo that harm in the event we are mistaken or the individual turns out to be able to break free from the patterns and instincts that make them a menace.

The affordance of decency should not be confused with failing to take all reasonable measures short of execution to prevent a murderer from harming other people. Which in this instance, I think Starfleet failed to do. The attack on Burnham in the mess hall is a direct result of using convict labor.

T’Kuvma’s “Xanatos Gambit”

To be blunt, T’Kuvma is a plot device of a character. He exists primarily to be martyred and thus incite the war between the Federation and the Klingons. His social standing among the Klingons is highly ambiguous: it's clear some of the leaders of the Great Houses respect him or at least are willing to pretend to respect him to placate any followers of T’Kuvma’s doctrines or gain access to his cloaking tech. Yet Kol of House Kor is clearly dismissive of him and what we get of T’Kuvma’s backstory seems to imply he’s the head of a formerly great Great House that was forced to recruit from the outcasts of Klingon society. 

We can probably infer that he’s a sort of messianic, proletarian figure. Yet the narrative only provides a scattering of clues as to just who he is in Klingon society and why anyone cares because T’Kuvma ultimately isn’t the real main villain, he’s a plot device whose job is to spark a war and then die.

The Klingon re-design but not because “muh canon”

I am not a canon reactionary. I do not feel intense emotional pain when someone tinkers with the design of a ship, character, uniforms, technology etc. I don’t even get all that bent out of shape when narrative continuity is overhauled: pushing back the date of the Eugenics Wars, altering the death toll of World War 3, giving Spock first one then two siblings he won’t talk about, making the Soongs a dynasty of mad scientists etc. 

None of these are unforgivable sins and some of these make good sense in order to keep Star Trek firmly rooted in the future rather than inventing an alternate history. Others, like the invention of Burnham or the Soong business, are flights of fancy and my reaction is more rooted in whether these “retcons” are interesting.

So with that out of the way: the Klingon redesign is awful. Not because “muh canon” but because the redesign is awful. The armor, sets, and ship designs are all incredibly abstract and busy to an extreme. The end result is so much sensory information to take in that it acts a lot like digital camouflage: disrupting the visibility of everything. Nothing can be appreciated on its own because everything is overstimulating.

Furthermore, the Klingon actors struggle to emote, let alone move in the heavy makeup and costumes. The fight choreography between T’Kuvma and Georgiou is comically sad. T’Kuvma lumbers like Frankenstein and while he sells the idea of there being enormous power behind his blows, there’s no precision. Mohammed Ali he ain’t. Absent directorial fiat that Georgiou had to die from stabbing for some reason, I don’t see any reason why she couldn’t just run away and go recover her phaser or a disruptor.

While Strange New Worlds almost certainly was bowing to the reactionary fervor of the fandom when it quietly re-retconned the appearance of Klingons, I have to believe that there was a stable of extras routinely cast as Klingons and fight choreographers who were on their knees begging for the return of lumpy forehead aliens.

The case for reconsidering shows

My memory was just flat out wrong in a lot of places. Burnham is more nuanced. The Federation is not particularly edgy. A lot of the problematic stuff that happens has an appropriate context that gets lost in the second or third or fourth iteration of flattening, retelling, and whining. Even some of the “dumb” stuff also has context that gets lost in the process of being turned into a meme. 

Was Starfleet holding the idiot ball pretty much from start to finish in the first three episodes? Yes, absolutely. But it’s not as if the characters don’t provide vaguely plausible reasons for their behaviors. Burnham is convinced that this is a unique threat that requires a very non-Starfleet solution. Georgiou is not fully persuaded that diplomacy is actually going to work but she is conflicted between her duty to her crew and her duty to innocent people within rapid striking range of the very large ship that can turn invisible. So she chooses to put the crew at risk in order to keep tabs on that beast while hoping that speechifying will work.

Is there really bad stuff that is going to make me kind of angry looming? Also yes. But I'm intrigued to reckon with it and see if I still feel its as egregious as I recall or if there's nuance to be found, and if there isn't nuance to reconcile it with my preferred characterization of the Federation, then do the icky things that happen make sense from the standpoint of a moral parable about overcoming our darker impulses?

[taletheoldcrowtold]

Pride - 2024: Day 3

Movie: Love, Simon

Made: 2018 – Set In: 2018

Starring: Nick Robinson, Keiynan Lonsdale, Katherine Langford, Josh Duhamel, Jennifer Garner, Alexandra Shipp, Jorge Landeborg, Logan Miller, Talitha Bateman.

Rated PG-13 for: Thematic elements, sexual references, language and teen partying

Plot:

A young adult rom-com about a teenager named Simon whose life is like any other teenager’s except he has a big secret.

Love, Simon is a light-hearted and feel-good moving that shows how being a gay teen can be hard when you fear teasing, judgment and hate. Simon doesn’t want to hurt anyone and just wants to feel open but through the course of the movie, he ends up making a big mess trying to keep himself from being seen by the judgmental kids in his school.

Spoilers under Keep Reading Line

No one dies in this and Simon and Bram get together. Though there might be some places of second-hand embarrassment.

As a young adult movie, it has a lot of high school, which I never went to but frankly, I don’t feel like I missed much. The pressure of being seen as ‘normal’ and not being teased or treated different keeps Simon from coming out. What I like about the movie is it isn’t just a coming out as gay story, but a coming out as yourself story. I never felt like being gay was such a big thing that people needed to say ‘I’m still me’. Of course they are still them. It isn’t like you become a totally different person when you come out. But I understand the fear of not wanting to be judged or being treated different. Especially when family is involved. I really love the part where Simon wonders why it’s just gay people who have to come out and then it showing his straight friends coming out as heterosexual and their families reacting like how parents would if their child was gay. But Love, Simon shows a brighter side of it all. It isn’t all so bleak. Simon’s friends and family accept him and he ends up with the boy he’s crushing on. Though I hated the moments that gave me second-hand embarrassment, it’s easier to handle when you know it ends okay. I could barely stand the vice-principle (and all I saw was Buster from Arrested Development) but he isn’t in it too much, at least. I can understand why Simon does some of the things he does but he does do some shitty things to his friends to keep his secret. And I don’t think Martin was a terrible guy (I actually kind of chuckled with his Halloween costume) but he’s a socially awkward teenage boy who wants a girl because she’s cool and pretty and not because they have things in common and it makes him do a really, really terrible thing. I was happy to see it all work out in the end and his scenes with his parents after he’s come out to them gets me a little emotional. It’s always good to see accepting parents. I feel like more movies should be like this, showing the positive and supportive instead of always shoving sad, hateful and harmful moments at us. It’s also good to see the less sexual side of it all, as it is very hard to find movies in the queer genre that aren’t overly sexualized. It’s innocent and sweet and encouraging. Love, Simon says to love yourself and be who you are. And that people will love and accept you.

Mom’s Thoughts: Simon has been best friends with Leah since they were in kindergarten together. Other close friends are Nick, who he has known about as long as Leah; Abby, who is new to their school their senior year; and Bram, who joins the group pretty often. When Simon answers Blue’s post on social media about feeling a bit lost and like he’s different than everyone else, Simon gets hints about who this person might be as they share thoughts through emails. Like any other teenager, Simon is curious who the person might be and whether he could possibly know him. He imagines him being different people he runs into and knows in school and at different places he goes. As teenagers often are, Simon is unsure about telling his friends he’s gay because he doesn’t want his relationship with his friends to change and is afraid it might if he “comes out” to them. He’s also hesitant how his family will react—one evening when his family settles down to watch a movie, his father makes uncomplimentary comments about someone being gay. Naturally, Simon doesn’t want the possibility of his family thinking less of him because he’s gay. When Martin (a boy in his class) accidentally sees Simon’s emails and threatens to out Simon unless he helps Martin woo Abby, Simon feels forced into lying to his friends. It all comes to a head when encouraged by Simon, Martin asks Abby out at Homecoming and Abby rejects him. Martin blames Simon and tells the school Simon is gay and Simon’s friends learn Simon has been lying to them. And Simon’s family learns his secret, too. For a while it looks as though all is lost, but Simon apologizes to his friends and Martin redeems himself by helping Simon connect to the boy he has fallen for. It’s a feel-good movie, full of teenage angst and uncertainty, with a happy ending. One of the things I liked about the movie is the positive reaction and support from Simon’s friends after he apologizes and his family’s support and show of love. Also I liked that Simon stood up for himself with bullies at the school, and told Martin it was Simon’s decision of when to come out, not Martin’s, and Martin took that away from him. Simon showed emotional maturity doing these.

[hopeididntscareyou]

if i have the opportunity i would like to spend my day with the elderly and go to disneyland or wherever that would make them feel young again. it would really make me super happy. i always have a soft spot for older people. i like taking care of the elderly more than children. old people have so much wisdom. the fact that they lived for atleast five decades already earned my respect because i had always planned to die early. And to be completely honest, i’m sick of hanging out with people my own age. in my generation i feel like a lot of people are broken with trust issues, lacking self-awareness, principles and don’t know how to work through their issues. its been normalized to just block/delete and treat people like they are just objects to be thrown away and replaced. people act like ghosting is acceptable. in fact a lot of popular videos on youtube just teach people to become dismissive avoidants. They are forgetting that by being petty they also forget kindness, respect and compassion for others. Its like everybody's on defensive mode. i’m honestly so appalled by this culture and environment. i’m tired of all these mind games and narcissistic shit i have to play just to feel satisfied when dealing with them. It feels like chasing a high that is nonexistent, and the only happiness you could achieve is the society's standards, but not your own. In reality its just all a cycle of broken people doing broken things to each other. I am not really like that yknow? i have a big heart and a genuine love to share. it sucks not being able to be that person just because of petty reasons that don’t even matter. 

actually, i just had that epiphany recently, as i’ve stumbled upon some disturbing movies i’ve seen before in my teens, which has been a very heavy process for me tbh, its like i was forced into extreme exposure response therapy, some of them were;

Women’s Flesh: My Red Guts -

Basically a hardcore self mutilation porn. Girl tortured and ate herself to death (literally) after her boyfriend broke up with her. Very gory, she even ate her insides. What the fuck. for me the disturbing part is the psychology of this person. like wow how much hatred you have in yourself to do this kind of shit and for the most pettiest reason. The fact that this movie was made is disturbing, there is no purpose in this movie other than to give fanservice to sickfucks who hates women and hates themselves. some people make jokes that she’s the ultimate girl boss, which is even more disturbing. i knew ppl who watch this are no good.

Tumbling Doll of Flesh: snuff porn, enough said. definitely not for beginners. and its japanese so its even more perverted. if you watch this be prepared to be insane for awhile. however at the time i’ve seen this i’ve already seen guinea pig series so it wasn’t as shocking to me as this is what i had expected

Angel's Melancholy - also known as the most disturbing movie of all time accdg to google results, i already made a review of this but its just basically a low quality material of all your disgusting fetishes. Mainly scat porn, urination, torture/rape involving colostomy, real animal abuse, bestiality, some other weird fetish, you name it. Faggots doing faggotry. The worst thing about this movie is how pretentious it is and trying to be philosophical in the worst possible way. This movie is nothing but a worthless and meaningless trash. An absolute waste of time.

August Mordum Underground: another disgusting nonsensical trash. Includes self performed penectomy (and having sex with the severed penis) disembowelment and having sex with some corpse’s intestines, incest, self harm, lots of rape, necrophilia, pedophilia, cannibalism, maggots, vomit fetish, etc. damn this movie was definitely a tryhard. This is the kind of movie you should watch if you're trying to lose weight. Trust me, I wasnt able to eat for days and ended up throwing up all foods i tried to eat.

Thats just a few of hundreds i’ve seen in my life and there’s no way I’m going to try to recount all my experiences with these movies. 

I realized, i don’t want to watch disturbing shit anymore. Like why the hell would you want to watch these movies? This is heavy shit were talking about. You could get PTSD in these movies unless you are 100% nihilist and theres no humanity left in you. Or if you are a full blown misogynist, you would definitely like these movies. I’ve never enjoy these movies, especially now as an adult. Honestly its just some edgy hobby of mine as a teenager that used to be some kind of ‘endurance test’, with the added fact that i have morbid curiosity, i couldn't just stop. But everything I had to suffer through and how it impacted me mentally, I realized its just not worth it. I was addicted to brainstorming what these movies were trying to convey, but in reality most of these movies are really just nothing but meaningless porn for depraved, sickfucks to fap to. You think you would find some depth in these people just because they're twisted, but nope. They are just as shallow and braindead as normies. I basically wasted my energy trying to understand 'human psyche' that is absolutely worth nothing of value. And reading more about Marquis de Sade’s philosophy disappointed me even more, its just proven to me how stupid and retarded all of this is. Its just all broken people living their meaningless lives, slaves to superficial pleasure. I've never even a fan of Epicurus, his philosophy is a big delusional cope to his celibate and unmarried life and pleasure is good, suffering is bad analogy is so retarded. Life to me is not about chasing pleasure and I'm more than grateful that I've lived most of my life in pain and suffering because that honed the character that i have today.

Also, If i keep watching this sort of movies then what would that make me? Afterall, if I ever knew someone who has voluntarily watched this kind of stuff I would run away from this person VERY FAST. I don't even care if they just have morbid curiousity like I do. Some individuals out there are needed to be avoided at all cost before they even realize that watching is just not enough for them. I'm not going to participate in this sickfuckery anymore, I don’t even want to watch Terrifier 2 even its nothing as disturbing as my usual. I just don’t want anything to do with this. This recent experience of revisiting these films has been a wake up call to me, and again, its not just about changing my favorite genre of movie but also about changing other areas of my life such as my social life. I don't want to engage in this games that people play for social status and power. I've seen it all and I'm tired of it because i see it nothing more as a broken cycle of broken people just chasing a high. That is not my character at all. I reflected a lot these past few days and I realized, I can be authentic as I can be without corrupting my inner child and compromising my values

[recurring-polynya]

Do I mind if I ask how you approach writing longer fic? I've always struggled to write anything more than maybe two chapters long and I'm curious if you have a particular method to how you approach such stories.

Thank you so much for this ask! I absolutely love it when people ask me for writing advice because it makes me feel like a Smart Person Who Knows Things.

Before we start, here is one grain of salt to take all of this with: I have a naturally long-form brain. It is very hard for me to write something less than 1k. Short fiction is great, and there is nothing wrong with sticking to short things if that's what your brain likes to do.

So. You have decided to write a story. This is going to focus on "stories". Some people write fic that's more freeform or whatever, I am not going to cover that. What I mean by a story is this:

It starts

Some stuff happens

It ends

It is highly probable that your story contains a change of state, which could be that a villain is defeated, or a goal is reached, but it could also be that character falls in love with another, or someone learns to like broccoli.

I like to start out by completing the sentence, "This is a story where _______". This is basically like coming up with a summary for an ao3 post, except that it doesn't need to be catchy. Lots of different kinds of things could go in that blank! It could literally be what happens: This is a story where Ichigo goes back in time and punches young Aizen in the nose. It could be about what you want to explore: This is a story where Hitsugaya gets a better understanding of his zanpakutou. It could be about the vibe you want to achieve: This is an AU where everyone is in a punk rock band and has cool hair and outfits. The idea of this is to clearly define what you, the author, is interested in writing. Make sure it feels right! Maybe you pick the first one, but when you say it out loud, you say, "You know, I really just want Ichigo to go back in time so he can horse around with young Renji and Rukia and punching Aizen in the nose is just an excuse for that." That may sound dumb, but it's fine, actually! Most people don't read stories strictly for the plot, they read stories for the implications of those plots! Will my favorite two characters kiss? Will there be funny interactions between these two groups of characters? Will there be sick fights? Stories are excuses to have scenes. Sometimes, you will have a story where the interesting sequence of events is the draw, but the point is to know what you're about.

Once you feel happy with your "mission statement", you need to decide the bounds of your story: where it starts and where it ends. It may be easier to start with the end. In some cases, it may be obvious from your mission statement: everyone gets home, a villain is defeated, Kenpachi realizes the meaning of friendship. On the other hand, let's look at that punk rock AU. You've picked a vibe, but you don't really have a natural story arc. It has to have a destination, though, otherwise, it's not really a story, it's a recipe for 3 chapters of an abandoned fanfic. So brainstorm a little: Maybe they get a record deal? Maybe they win a Battle of the Bands? Maybe Byakuya accepts that the band is actually good and tells Rukia he is proud of her. Do not settle for a plot just because it works. Pick something that makes you excited! You're the one who is gonna have to write it!

I said that we needed to pick a beginning point, too, but I'm actually going to skip that for now. The next thing I do is think of all the Big Scenes I want to write, the ones you are hype to write, the ones that pop in your head as you think about the premise. Make a bullet list. They don't need to be in order. The descriptions don't need to be super detailed, but write down anything about it that is important to you. If there's a mood or a snippet of dialogue or a joke you want to make, go ahead and jot that down so you don't forget it later. What you're doing now is putting broad blotches of color on a canvas, filling in space and leaving the detail for later.

Once you are pretty happy with what you have down, try to arrange it in chronological order. Put your end at the end (if it wasn't one of your big scenes, add it now). The next task is figuring out how to traverse your scenes. You've already picked out where you want to spend the majority of your energy. The rest, I regret to tell you, is your slog writing. Now, it often happens that you will find joy in some of these scenes and your best writing may occur there, but that's serendipity. These are the scenes that you are gonna have to make yourself sit down and write, so you honestly want to limit them to just the ones you need.

So how do we do this? Look at the first thing on the list. Can you start there? If so, congrats, that's your beginning. If you can't, what needs to happen to get to there? Where can you start so that you can get to your first fun scene as soon as possible? There. That’s it. You’ve picked your beginning, good job! Now, go through the rest of your list, and add in things that must happen, even if you don’t particularly look forward to writing them. The characters need to travel from geographic point A to point B. Shuuhei needs to say something that Izuru hears and misinterprets. The Central 46 makes a new law. If you have a good idea of how these things happen, go ahead and write them down, but it’s okay if you don’t know yet. Fill in all the blanks so that if you think of each bullet list as a scene, you could read it as a story, start to end. Once you get writing, you might add more scenes, or move things around or whatever, but you should have a thing that functions as a story.

If you struggle with this, an alternative is a story with a very strong structure that is going to guide you though what you have to write.Here are two examples from my own stories Hold On, Hold On (which is only one chapter, but the principle is the same) is structured around the 5 stages of grief. Not Broken, Just Bent takes place over roughly a week, and I just decided what happened every day of the week. See You on the Other Side takes place in the middle of a bunch of canon events, which worked at mile markers.

Congratulations. You’ve just made a rough outline!

Special note for avoiding burnout!: I am a slogger. I will drag myself through the broken glass of an interminable plot to get to a single thirsty scene. That's why, at this stage, I try to look at the ratio of what I want to write to what I must write. It's gonna vary for everyone, but this is a hobby, and if looking at this proto-outline makes you feel deeply tired, maybe this isn't a good story to be devoting your time to! Can you carve it down? Can you chuck two scenes you really want to write and get rid of 80% of the slog? Or maybe you can't! In that case, just write that thirsty scene as a standalone drabble! Or just go work on something else! Maybe in the future, this one will come back to you and you’ll have a fresh idea or a renewed enthusiasm for it.

Another thing I sometimes like to do at this point is to write out some notes about my characters and their motivations and moods. Character A is homesick. Character B is so determined to defeat the enemy that they are having a hard time being sympathetic to Character A. Character C cares for both A and B and is trying to support them both. This is sort of background info that you want to keep in your head as you are writing. Depending on the type of story you are writing, this might actually be the main plot, or it might be happening subtly, but adding to the emotional impact of the story. It’s very easy for me to write these sorts of emotional arcs, but if you struggle with that, you may wish to go ahead and made a more detailed outline for that, too.

Now, it’s time to start writing! I am great at beginnings-- it is very often the case for me that the opening scene was one of my Big Tentpole Scenes. (Before you hate me too much, I make up for this by being double horrible at endings; just let me have this) Usually, I will start at the beginning and write linearly for as long as I can until I get stuck. Then, I will look forward on my outline and do the next chronological scene that I feel like writing. In general, if I sit down to write and there is something I have an urge to write, that trumps everything else. Inspiration is a precious commodity, and you should embrace it when it hits! You can slog any day. I will occasionally hold off writing a scene that I really want to, because I am saving it, like a prize for myself for getting that far. This is a very personal process of figuring out what motivates your brain and then giving your brain what it needs to be its most productive.

Eventually, you will run out of things you are excited to write, but the good news is, you’ve got a bunch of story now! Odds are that what’s left is going to be a lot of those connective tissue scenes, and you’re just going to have to do them, except that now, because you’re connecting two concrete points instead of two abstract points, it will be a lot easier. You can continue running jokes you’ve started. Maybe you invented a cafe in an earlier scene where your characters hang out and you can have them return there. Try to think of ways to make these scenes more fun, both for yourself to write and for your reader to read. 

Around this time, I like to start refining that rough strokes outline into what I will call an “as-built” outline. (This is an engineering term where you update your plans or models for something to reflect any changes that had to be made along the way). This is a great activity to do at times when you feel like you have writers block. I write down every scene I have written as a 2-3 word blurb, in order. I break the scenes into what I think makes logical chapters, and I will do a word count on those prospective chapters and write it down. As you do this, you will realize that maybe you can move a scene from here to there, which will make it 1000% easier to write. Things may be happening too much, or you’ve got the characters eating three times in the same chapter. If you have subplots and dangling threads, this is where you make sure they get closure. I know this sounds very headache-y, but you are so far along in the story at this point that it’s really not-- it’s a way to look at the problems you have left. Use some sort of formatting (I like to bold things I haven’t done and sometimes I put them in red) and it gives you a very visual to-do list.

You specifically mentioned multi-chapter fanfics and I admit that I don’t tend to think in chapters, I tend to think of the story as a whole and just break it up where it feels natural. The as-built outlining I described is very helpful in making sure that my chapters feel balanced. They don’t necessarily need to be the same length, but I like them to have the same amount of stuff in them. One chapter may basically contain one long scene, and other may contain many short ones. I don’t tend to, but you can certainly have a fanfic that varies between short and long chapters, that can actually be an interesting effect. But like I said, I always like to know what I am doing, and so having it mapped out, you can say “welp, this is what I’ve done, how do I feel about that?”

Polynya, you may be saying at this point, do you write the whole fanfic before you post any of it? and I regret to inform you, the answer is yes. A lot of people write as they go, and I have made one attempt at this and I didn’t like it. I don’t like locking myself in, I just need to be able write out of order and go back and change things. Here is the story of a little in love: someone gave me an AU prompt and I got mildly obsessed with it, and wrote 5 snapshots drabbles in that universe, ending with a slight cliffhanger ending. I probably should have stopped there, but I decided to keep going. I wrote out an outline of 5 acts where the first act was detailed to the degree of each chapter being specified. The chapters here were much smaller than I usually make chapters: 1-2k. I wrote act i and ii and it was actually great, and then I hit act iii which required a lot of set up for misunderstandings and a mini romance arc. I couldn’t wing it, but nor could I figure it all out with outlining. I write dialogue in almost sort of an improv “Yes, and...?” style, so until I do it, I don’t know what’s going to happen. So, what I did was treat the second half of act iii as a complete story in the process I describe above, wrote the entire rest of it, and then posted it. One might notice that the chapter lengths grew to 3-5k each. I have two more acts to go, and I haven’t decided how I am going to do them yet, but I suspect I will treat each of them as their own mini-stories.

(I will admit that in Heart is a Muscle, I tend toward chapters that are about 10k long, and this is honestly too long, someone should smack me. If you like punchy chapters, 1-2k is good. I think 3-6k is probably an ideal chapter length. Is this how long the chapters are in my latest fanfic? Absolutely not.)

Okay, so there’s one more step, which is quality control. I am habitual re-reader-- I read my fanfics-in-progress over and over and over while I am working on them. I understand that not everyone does this, but I am usually the primary audience for my own writing, and this is the actual fun part for me. Nevertheless, you should re-read your work at least once, to make sure it hangs together.

This is purely optional, but I recommend it: get a writing friend (if you don’t like re-reading your work, I recommend this even more strongly). If you can get a full-service beta reader, that’s great, but if you can’t find someone, or if receiving that level of critique stresses you out, it’s perfectly valid to just find a friend who will read your stuff and a) shower you with compliments, b) reassure you about parts you aren’t sure about (or suggest ways to help) and c) point out any huge problems you missed. When I am writing a long fanfic, it is a huge motivational factor for me to be able to send my beta chapters as I finish them. If you are already an established writer, and you have people who consistently comment on your fic, they might be overjoyed to get a sneak peak at your work.

And that’s it! That’s the way I do it, anyway! Some people are able to sit down and write a very detailed outline and the write it start-to-finish. Good for them, I say! I have tried this and it doesn’t work great for me. I will admit that some of my fics (especially my early ones) I just sat down and banged out whole-cloth like an insane person and they are generally better than the ones I actually plan out, but that’s not a reproducible process.

As one final mechanical note, I usually write in Google Docs, which I can access on multiple devices (I used to write a lot on my phone), has convenient sharing functionality, and I use the ao3 html formatting script add-in. I generally have two documents for a single story-- one is the outline, and any other notes I want to have handy. I’ll usually put a trashcan space at the bottom for scenes that got cut but I don’t want to lose. The other is the fanfic itself.

I hope this is helpful! Please feel free to follow up with other questions and good luck with your writing!

[aesdi]

Ok I’m getting into it. This will be a long one boys so buckle up. @yuraimi-lee-bunny this is just for you babe

Life is Strange, at its core, is a story about Max and Chloe reconnecting after five years. Based on that, it’s no surprise that the game favors Chloe as the “canon” love interest. You can tell the developers gave Chloe the most thought and care, even more so than Max. Chloe is given a lot of depth and a lot of reasons for the player to sympathize. However, most of these fall flat and for one reason:

Chloe never changes.

Throughout the game, you can tell that some characters get development (some being the key word) and yet, Chloe is not one of them. In every chapter, Chloe is the same person she was at the start of the story. She is bitter, rude to everyone, and never takes blame for her own actions. Just look at the way she treats her mother, who clearly cares for her.

My biggest problem from this is how the game never addresses this. The only time I think it was ever addressed was in an offhand comment that never really goes anywhere. I would be fine if Chloe started this way then grew overtime, or even if the game called it out more than a single comment. But none of that happens, and then we’re supposed to sympathize with her. I can’t sympathize with someone who will never change.

All of these problems, this lack of Chloe ever getting development, makes her sacrificing herself at the end feel like it came out of left-field. Like from my knowledge, Chloe has been a selfish person this entire game. It would make more sense for Chloe to look at Acedia Bay, a town she hates full of people she hates, and go “fuck that” and live in spite! Hell, it would have been more interesting if it was Max who wanted to go back but Chloe was against it!! That would have been a fun moral conflict and a neat contrast to the (extremely pointless) trip to the other dimension with the Chloe who asked you for death.

Like imagine if you are presented with the final option and Chloe turns to you and goes “Max please do not kill me for this shithole of a town”. Chloe would have nothing left to live for in that town, her mother had basically abandoned her (Chloe’s pov) and Rachel is dead. But Max has friends here. This is Max’s life, full of people she cares about. Max cannot throw that away, but how can she kill Chloe when Chloe is begging her not to? It would make the ending choice so much harder, and make each of the endings more tragic.

But no, we have Chloe’s character acting out of character.

And then we have Warren, a character who never really gets a chance to shine.

As stated above, this is a game about Chloe and Max, but Warren is the other love interest. He’s made to be the complete opposite of Chloe, yet it’s never really delved into. There is never a big choice surrounding Warren, which just sidelines him the entire game. As I was replaying the first chapter and got to the part where they talk, I had just wished we told Warren about our powers. Or hell, even later, like the next chapter. We see Max ask him about all this time stuff, but imagine if we actually saw them together working it out. It makes no sense that Max wouldn’t tell Warren about it, it would absolutely help her chances at figuring it out.

I honestly think Warren should have been with Chloe and Max for most of the story. Not all the time, but enough that we get more interesting moral dilemmas. It would solve two problems I have with Warren’s character: the lack of development and the lack of use in the main story.

Like imagine the entire scene in the principles office but with the addition of Warren. Chloe wanting to steal the cash isn’t just a Chloe vs Max problem now, like it was before (it made the choice very easy because Max isn’t comfortable with Chloe stealing and as we’re playing Max, we obviously are against the idea as well). Now its Max’s two best friends against each other. And now imagine this kind of dilemma and put it throughout the entire game, upping the stakes each time. That’s what it would be like. Plus, Warren and Chloe interacting would be fucking hilarious. It would also make that last choice interesting, because what if Warren and Chloe grew to become close friends in the game? Warren doesn’t have many friends, and is obviously protective of the ones he does have. So while Chloe is saying to sacrifice her, Warren can’t agree that they should. He doesn’t want to loose a friend, even if it tears him apart to lose his town, his school.

Then we also get the bonus of Warren being developed past a nerdy boy with a huge crush. We have the option to learn more about him. We can learn about his home life and how he got into a seniors only school at age 16. Maybe find out some of his personal demons he never wanted Max to find out about? Maybe even more into his relationship with other characters?

Life is Strange is a good game, but lacks in character arcs. It’s a game that tells you that it loves its characters, but never shows you that it does. There are multiple characters that are misused or underused by this game, but to me Warren and Chloe are the biggest of the two.

(And then Nathan but that is not what this post is about)

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[hamliet]

Dabi’s Missing Heart

So I’ve been seeing two main responses to Dabi’s character as portrayed in BNHA 292, both of which I feel touch on a very surface understanding of his character and role in the story despite seeming like opposite takes.  

Take #1: 

Dabi is an unfeeling monster created to show the redeemability of Shigaraki and Enji in contrast with his true eeeevil villainy! He will never be redeemed! 

Take #2: 

Dabi is a sweet softy who did nothing wrong! He will never be redeemed because of this chapter which is so out-of-character! 

Note how they both have the same endpoint. I’m not actually gonna address the redemption question much because I can’t fathom what this panel foreshadows if not Touya’s salvation (alive): 

I’m not looking to debate this either; I’m just putting it here because I know it’ll come up if I don’t.

Instead, I wanna address Dabi’s character. He’s my favorite, and I’ve been asked a few different times whether I enjoy him as a villain or as an uwu poor baby, and my answer is always both. 

Dabi is a villain. This chapter’s rampage is, in my opinion, not remotely out of character for him. But neither is it the summation of his character, and he surely is not meant to make Enji look good by comparison. 

So, who is Dabi? 

Dabi is kind of a flaming jerk, and that’s why I like him. He’s an abuse victim who gets to be angry and crass and sharp. He pushes people away because he doesn’t want to open up to them and get burned (heh). He’s just like Shouto in that, except with a dose of murder. 

Believe it or not, this is a very realistic response to abuse, and very common too. It’s good to see that representation. If the writing was indeed just “he’s bad get rid of him,” well, that would of course be a terrible representation. But seeing a mean victim get redeemed? Now that’s some good sh*t I’m here for. 

If you want a sweethearted, misunderstood soft victim, there is one in MHA, and that’s Shigaraki. Dabi is not these things, but that does not mean he’s not a victim or that he’s somehow an unfeeling monster.

You see, Shigaraki is a heart character. Dabi’s the mind. (Heart and mind characters are a literary pattern that is utilized in literature across the globe; it’s not an eastern/western cultural thing. It has its roots in alchemy.) The problem is that you can’t have a heart without a mind nor a mind without a heart. If you lack one, you’re missing half the picture, and you won’t accomplish anything. 

We see this with Shigaraki in his quest to look for ideals, something to believe in, purpose to justify/enable acting on his feelings/emotions. 

Dabi, in contrast, has conviction and ideals, but eschews any kind of personal connection and care. 

So, both Shigaraki and Dabi struggle to unite heart and mind--but they need to do precisely this. 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki expressly envisions both Dabi and Himiko when musing on what his purpose is. 

Yet Shigaraki is able to unite more easily with Himiko as opposed to Dabi because Himiko is also a heart character. She claims to be motivated by extreme empathy that warps around to become a lack thereof (wanting to be who she loves).

Shigaraki’s motivations are basically revenge for hero society not saving him--which encompasses both a deep internal and external (societal) need for empathy and a need for better ideals. Shigaraki needs Himiko and Dabi. They’re a trio, and all of them need each other to grow. But Himiko, being similarly driven expressly by emotions, is easier for Shigaraki to understand and work with. 

The irony is that Dabi is actually a very, very emotional character as well. But what he does (as is typical for a mind character) is repress them, compartmentalize, dissociate. He constantly pushes people away, yet admits privately, to himself, that he’s primarily (and paradoxically) motivated by family. This is emotional, yet Dabi claims he “overthought” and, according to other translations, “snapped” can be actually be read as “went crazy” as a result over overthinking (note: both are mind allusions). 

Dabi repressing who he is--Todoroki Touya--is symbolic of him repressing his emotional side, because again, family and emotions are tied together for his character. Now his identity is acknowledged, and Dabi claims to be losing his mind (again), claims that he can’t feel, and yet is completely consumed by emotions. Like, does anyone think he’s being methodical and calculating this chapter? 

It’s not just negative emotions (rage, hate) that drive Dabi in response to his family. His seeking belonging and emotional connection is present even in a chapter where he tries to murder two members of his family and laughs off the risk to the life of another. 

See, Dabi first asked Shouto to validate his pain:

But like, given the circumstances, of course Shouto doesn’t really respond well. How Shouto responds is this: 

Shouto’s words are triggering. And keep in mind I am not blaming Shouto: he’s in shock and he’s a kid. I’m merely trying to explain how it likely comes across to Dabi. 

You’re crazy. Your feelings don’t matter. You don’t really care about Natsuo! You’re a villain and that’s ALL you are. Not a brother or abuse survivor. Just a villain. 

So, uh, yeah, Dabi then retreats back to being unable to feel, dissociating as has always been his coping mechanism. But that’s not all: Dabi’s been repressing for so long that of course he’s gonna go a little insane in response to the dismissal of everything he’s trying to point out. Why wouldn’t he? His family dismissed his pain back then and now again, and so, without that heart, without those emotions, principle is all Dabi has. This has been present since long before Stain’s ideology came into his life: 

Now, he answers this question of existence through Stain’s ideology.  Purpose is all he has, and to him, Shouto and Best Jeanist are dismissing that too. Why are they dismissing it? Best Jeanist dismisses him for an ideal: the overall good of hero society. Shouto has a mixture of this ideal and also like, genuine shock and pain. 

Back to Dabi. Dabi’s summation of himself and his purpose is incorrect and harmful to himself and others. I’m not excusing him or justifying, just explaining. It’s a tragic reflection of what Endeavor raised both Touya and Shouto to be (and thereby ironic that BJ uses an ideal to dismiss him): 

Instead of being raised to be the symbol of hero society--as Endeavor intended--he exists to destroy it. The root is the same: Dabi assumes he exists for hero society, as a tool. He dehumanizes himself, hence why his quirk physically harms him (which also fits his almost religious zeal for Stain’s ideology). But it is not all Dabi is. He’s not a tool, he’s a person, but to acknowledge he’s a person involves acknowledging his heart/emotional desires, and that gets to my next point.

Dabi’s not a reliable narrator about himself. At all. I’ve written about Dabi and dissociation before. So let’s look at Dabi’s devotion to his ideals, the ideals he puts above people and claims he only cares about... because there are moments where Dabi goes against those ideals. 

For one example, Dabi’s gone against those ideals when he’s allowed his personal need for revenge (an emotional/heart motivation) to overcome his longterm plan. Like, he was fully about to get himself killed here, even though that would likely mean no one would know the corruption of the Todoroki family and hero society, just for the chance to prove to his father that he hurt him. 

In addition, I’ve talked before about how Dabi’s the only character in the entire damn manga to comment that maybe using child soldiers is not okay. While it’s not explicitly stated, it’s reasonable to conclude that Dabi considers the abuse of children in hero training a sin of hero society that ought to be purged (hence, part of his ideals). 

That said, I have also pointed out that Dabi has gone after children in the past when it benefits his mission (Bakugou would like a word). So let’s look at four examples of Dabi and his principles concerning kids--since, after all, he claims to be motivated by heroes who hurt kids. 

Firstly, Dabi’s “save the cat” when he spared Aoyama. 

Why did he spare Aoyama? We can only speculate, but it seems quite likely there are two reasons: 1) hurting Aoyama would not add anything to his overall goal of downing hero society, and 2) a terrified, cowering kid might just have been a teeny bit familiar to Dabi. Here, his ideals--destroying hero society--either take a backseat to a reflection of his personal pain (and)/or his ideal of not abusing kids directly contradicted his ideal of bringing down hero society. But the important part is that in this instance, Dabi chose mercy and the goal of bringing down hero society was jeopardized as a result. 

So then why did he attack Tokoyami, Nejire, and Shouto this arc? Well, Dabi does things he knows are wrong for the sake of accomplishing his overall purpose. He does things he knows hurt himself for this purpose. This isn’t new. If he can’t be acknowledged, can’t exist as a person with emotions, then he at least will ensure he still has a purpose.  

In addition, let’s look at what sets Dabi off in all of these instances. (Again, this isn’t me saying “well actually Dabi’s justified.” He’s not. I’m just pointing to what’s in the text to explain the machinations beyond “bad guy do bad.”)

Dabi tries to reason with Tokoyami, pointing out that Twice was doing essentially what Tokoyami is doing: trying to save his friend(s), but Tokoyami doesn’t listen (also again: not me saying Tokoyami should have listened--realistically, in this situation, it makes sense Tokoyami trusted his mentor!)

Only after his reasoning was rejected did Dabi go to flames mode. He could have just let Tokoyami save Hawks, but instead he really wanted to kill Hawks and that overrode his other principles. Was this just because of his furthering his goal--killing the #2 hero would help destroy hero society--or because of a sense of personal revenge for Twice? That’s open for interpretation (in my opinion, it’s likely a mixture, because again, it tends to intertwine more than Dabi likes to think it does). His principles and/or emotions are brushed aside, and Dabi Does Not Like That. 

Dabi does this again with Shouto this chapter, asking him where he stands on their family issues, and gets brushed aside, and then Shouto goes into his rage mode and Dabi responds. Again, not saying Shouto is rational here or that he should side with Dabi’s murderous plan, but like, his words really don’t come across well to Dabi. 

Dabi going after Shouto after explaining things, asking Shouto for help, and then having his pain dismissed is pretty much a repeat of Tokoyami. When Dabi’s pain is dismissed, he says fine, let’s aim for the highest principle possible: making Stain’s will a reality, and damn any emotional ties. 

Dabi’s obsession with ideals, you might say, is a smokescreen to cover his own pain. Far from feeling nothing, he feels very deeply. (I promise I’m getting to Nejire.) 

So what does this indicate? Well, that Dabi does have a heart and a conscience. But when he lets his heart act, when his heart reaches out, he gets burned. His heart jeopardizes his overall purpose, so he most often dissociates himself from it. But by pretending he doesn’t have a heart, he dehumanizes himself, and he projects that dehumanization onto others (see: seeing Shouto as an extension of Endeavor, when that’s actually the precise image Shouto is trying to shed). 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki has been unconscious during the entire confrontation with Endeavor, nor is it a coincidence that Himiko has been MIA. But, Shigaraki wakes up a bit this chapter not only when hearing Dabi spout about how hero society needs to burn, an ideal/the thing Shigaraki lacks, and through a less important but still-ideal-driven character in Spinner asking him to accomplish his supposed ideal of destruction, but when Dabi saves Shigaraki and Spinner. 

Dabi doesn’t burn Nejire for lols (not that this makes it better because it doesn’t) or even for ideals. He burns her to save Shigaraki and Spinner, because they are his links to full humanity right now. 

(Again, this is also dissociation and projection: Endeavor did this! No, Dabi, you did. You’re perpetuating violence against kids rather than stopping it.)

But anyways, when Dabi calls upon heart, Shigaraki wakes. He lends Gigantomachia and thereby Dabi and the league power. 

Dabi can only grow and actually accomplish anything related to his ideals (fixing hero society) through accepting a heart--even though that will likely mean some painful surgery to shift his ideals to accommodate said heart, because pure ideals don’t leave much room for humanity. He needs to feel to actually change anything, because right now he’s just making things worse (hence, the need for saving and redemption).

I know the League aren’t the protagonists of the serIes, but their complaints aren’t exactly incorrect either (if anything they’re almost a little too valid). But through growing together, Dabi, Shigaraki, and Himiko might actually be able to accomplish something, and get themselves in a place where they can be reached and saved by Shouto, Deku, and Ochaco. Because to be saved, the kids will have to acknowledge the villains’ pain and complaints, and do something about it. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

A continuation of NHS invites WWX to JYL's wedding, and what happened there? Perhaps about how the estemed Hanguang Jun ended up running off and eloping with the Nie sect heir's intended?

continuation of that short fic, now it’s own fic on ao3

Plus One - Chapter 2

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, sidling up to his brother and his two sworn brothers now that they’d finally gotten to the party part of the wedding and they could all huddle up in a corner to be anti-social together.

Or, well, for Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to be anti-social and for Jin Guangyao to be forcefully restrained from attempting to perform hosting duties, which he incessantly tried to do - it was like he had no idea what servants were for. Which Nie Huaisang supposed was understandable, given everything, but the way Jin Guangshan encouraged him to do it certainly wasn’t.

“So,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice only mildly ominous in a way that suggested, to Nie Huaisang at least, that he was still finding this whole thing incredibly funny.

Accordingly, Nie Huaisang ignored him. “How much do you think I can milk being horribly dumped?” he asked. “Because I think I’m about to be horribly dumped.”

“By your new ‘intended’?” Lan Xichen said, looking amused. “Really, Huaisang, I don’t know what you were thinking by bringing him.”

“Uh, that he deserves to attend his shijie’s wedding? Obviously?”

“But to bring him to Lanling…”

“He’s my guest,” Nie Huaisang said haughtily, bringing out his fan and doing his best ‘rich young master who is better than this and is most certainly above your petty questions’ Jin sect impression. “You aren’t suggesting that the Jin sect would take back an invitation they freely issued, would they? Or breach the rules of hospitality?”

“Huaisang, Xichen didn’t mean it that way and you know it,” his brother said, sounding annoyed, but in his relaxed run-of-the-mill ‘I hate parties’ type of annoyance, rather than specifically about his behavior. “Obviously the Jin sect won’t do anything about it. Regardless of any other considerations, anything they did would be refusing to show our Nie sect face, and then I’d have to make an issue of it.”

He sounded wistful. Probably thinking about how he could use it as an excuse to storm out and go home early.

“We’re only worried about you, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao murmured, looking remarkably calm for someone who was definitely (if unobtrusively) being blocked from leaving by two very tall men with excessive mother hen tendencies. “You’re all grown up now, not a child – you need to think about the political implications your actions might have. Aren’t you concerned about your brother’s reaction?”

Huaisang was about to explain that he’d gotten his brother’s permission, but then he remembered that they were in Lanling, full of spies, so he decided to tell Jin Guangyao about that later.

“It’s not my problem that Sect Leader Nie has to think about politics at what should be a happy family event,” he said instead, nose in the air, and Lan Xichen frowned even as Nie Mingjue sighed, probably at Nie Huaisang’s total lack of caring about even the basic obligations of etiquette. Or possibly his reference to their little inside joke, but these were his sworn brothers, so they’d have to figure out sooner or later that Sect Leader Nie and Nie Mingjue weren’t always the same. “Besides, that isn’t what I asked. I asked about how long I can milk my terrible heartbreaking break up.”

“I thought you were getting dumped?” his brother asked, passing him a jar of wine. A good brother, even if he was mocking him.

“Getting dumped leads to a break-up,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Wei-xiong is a thankless white-eyed wolf who was just using me with absolutely no consideration of my tender feelings.”

“You have tender feelings?” his brother said. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

Nie Huaisang kicked him in the shin.

As usual, it had no impact whatsoever on his brother and only hurt his own toes, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, his voice oddly gentle, even softer than normal. “Did you – really – for Wei Wuxian –”

Nie Huaisang, who’d been taking a drink of wine, nearly choked. “Er-ge,” he said, mildly horrified. “Please. Wei-xiong is a very handsome gentleman, fearless and dashing, with all the skills one might ask for in a son-in-law –”

“Brother-in-law,” his brother muttered, as if he hadn’t been Nie Huaisang’s de facto father figure for years.

“– and, yes, I suppose we have similar tastes in drinking, carousing, and pornography –”

“Of course you do,” Jin Guangyao said, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hide how his lips were twitching.

“– but let us not forget: he lives in a trash heap. With Wen sect. I have standards!”

“I thought he was marrying in?” Lan Xichen asked, smiling again now that he had confirmed that there was no actual heart-breaking occurring in the vicinity. “He’d live in the Unclean Realm that way, wouldn’t he?”

“He would not,” Nie Mingjue put in. “I don’t care if they’re all enlightened saints that do nothing but charity all day, no one surnamed Wen is living in my home.”

“You see what I’m up against?” Nie Huaisang said, holding out his hands in appeal to his brother’s sworn brothers. “My da-ge doesn’t understand, he’s only good for swinging a saber! How cruel and heartless must a man be to stand in the way of true love?”

Lan Xichen covered his smile with his sleeve. Jin Guangyao pressed his lips together in such a way that made his cheeks especially round and quivering with suppressed laughter, like a mouse stuffing its face to bulging with rice.

“Er-ge, you wouldn’t be nearly this cruel if it were you, would you?” Nie Huaisang asked, reaching out and tugging said sleeve. “You’d be kind and generous about it – I bet you’d find them a nice little place to live, maybe next to those foothills you’re always saying you want someone to use but that you’re not willing to sell…”

“Were you planning on moving in with er-ge after your marriage, then?” Jin Guangyao asked. He looked much more amused and relaxed now – maybe he’d been stressing over this being some sort of scheme and was feeling much better now that he realized it was actually just Nie Huaisang’s nonsense. His paranoia had always been deeply endearing. “I don’t think your brother will like that.”

“Not me,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes at him. “But if it was Lan Zhan sweeping him away, er-ge would definitely support him. Right, er-ge?”

“I always support my brother,” Lan Xichen said with a smile.

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, taking another swallow of wine. “Because he and Wei Wuxian just had a very intense conversation in a secluded corner that ended with them kissing and running off together, so it’s about to become your problem.”

Nie Mingjue choked, Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped, and Lan Xichen’s eyes got really big.

“Not joking,” Nie Huaisang clarified cheerfully. “Totally serious.”

“Excuse me,” Lan Xichen said, getting up very quickly. “I need to – go see –”

He didn’t even bother finishing the sentence before rushing off.

“Go with him,” Nie Mingjue said to Jin Guangyao, who blinked owlishly at him. “It’s going to be a shitshow, isn’t it? Politically, I mean.”

“Uh,” Jin Guangyao said.

“Really, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “The notorious ostracized-by-the-cultivation-world demonic cultivator Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, is abruptly reintroduced to society as my intended bride, only to be stolen away by the Lan sect’s Second Jade, the second most desirable bachelor in the cultivation world, in the middle of a wedding party thrown by Lanling Jin? I have no idea why you think this would so much as raise an eyebrow.”

“That’s a lot of words to say ‘shitshow’, which is why I didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – oh, fuck it, A-Yao, someone is going to need to keep their head about them and think about the political implications long enough to keep Xichen from getting himself into serious trouble, and you’re better at it than I am. Go help him. I’ll cover for you two here.”

Jin Guangyao still looked torn.

“Don’t listen to da-ge, he’s worrying too much,” Nie Huaisang volunteered his own opinion. “How much trouble can the Lan sect really get into over a matter of love?”

“I’m going at once,” Jin Guangyao said, and ran after Lan Xichen.

A moment later, Nie Huaisang handed the jar of wine back to his brother.

“Well done,” he said, voice much more neutral than it had been a moment before. “Assuming your goal was to deprive Sect Leader Jin of san-ge’s assistance while we define the situation to make it come out the way we want.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your timely assist,” Nie Mingjue said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did so hate politics, and he hated being good at it even more. Truly there was nothing better, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion, than forcing his brother to relent and give in to the sneaky bastard half of his heritage. “Anyway, Sect Leader Jin is drunk and his heir is the groom, and thus occupied. It’s only reasonable that I, as the person with the next highest status, take charge of dispersing the news.”

“And by ‘dispersing the news’ you mean rehabilitate Wei-xiong’s reputation, get him reinstated in the Jiang sect, and arrange an appropriate marriage between him and Lan Zhan before anyone can complain about an inappropriate elopement, of course.”

“It’s called being efficient, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said.

“It’s called creating a countervailing alliance to the Jiang-Jin sect connection, getting both the Jiang sect and the Yiling Patriarch to owe our sect a favor – not to mention the Lan sect, too! – and conveniently also undercutting Sect Leader Jin’s authority just at the moment he’s trying to install himself as the new ruler of the cultivation world.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, finishing off the jar and putting it down. “I’m far too stupid to be considering any of that. Only good for swinging a saber, remember?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. “You won a whole war against a much stronger, more numerous, and more unified force on Baxia’s strength alone, no brains required. How can I help? You want me crying or excited?”

“Whatever you think is best, Huaisang.” His brother solidified his scowling angry face, just the sort of thing a dumb brute might wear when dealing with politics that he was far too ignorant to understand. “Let’s go right some injustices, shall we?”