#i tend to forget shit and that post was made at a specific point in time so dont fuckin @ me

[spitblaze]

because i am always always ALWAYS anxious that someone is gonna interpret something i say in bad faith i made that anti-transmasculinity post bc there was a minute or two on tumblr and twitter where trans men were the Embarassing Cringe Queers Du Jour and people were like 'lol trans men dont even face any sort of discrimination outside of garden variety transphobia' which is patently fuckin untrue and im very tired of being called a 'pussy' and a 'whiner' because people do not take me seriously as a man unless its to claim im a predator or violent so. theres that

[depressedraisin]

okay so i don't really have a point to make over here but i've been thinking about this a lot lately so here we go: ever notice how alex tends to use a lot of dance-related words as metaphors for sex but almost always undercuts the image of elegance/beauty that might evoke using interesting juxtapositions and wordplay??

in piledriver waltz (submarine ep, 2010; also reprised for suck it and see, 2011) he writes "i heard the piledriver waltz// it woke me up this morning". now 'piledriver waltz' here refers to someone having sex (atleast the contributors at genius think so and so do i). turner uses the word waltz- an intimate ballroom dance between two partners- but adds piledriver- which is, as wikipedia tells me, "a professional wrestling driver move in which the wrestler grabs their opponent, turns them upside-down, and drops into a sitting or kneeling position, driving the opponent head-first into the mat". so you see, the refined, elegant, romantic connotations of waltz is contrasted with the image of rough ruthlessness that piledriver brings.

(ALSO also did you notice? a wrestling reference? all the way back in 2010 👀 now idk if it's a regular vocab words or specific to wrestling-lingo only back in uk, but my studied-english-as-first-language-in-school-but-not-native speaker ass did have to google what the hell that means)

another such oxymoron-esque treatment of metaphors for sex we see in everything you've come to expect (everything you've come to expect, 2016). the line, one of my absolute favourite things turner and kane have ever written, goes "dirtbag ballet by the bins down the alley // as i walk through the chalet of the shadow of death". 'dirtbag ballet' again refers to sex here, this time the illicit kind, the kind that takes place in shadowy corners and dingy alleys. 'ballet' is another term that we will immediately associate with elegance and graceful moves but the use of 'dirt bag' by it's side brings a sense of crassness, almost vulgar quality to it. that term immediately paints a very stark picture of wild clandestine passion that illicit affairs carries probably. the song talks about that a lot.

(PS: an applause for the impeccable internal rhyme in those lines tho. *chef's kiss*)

the last example that stands out to me is from four stars out of five (tranquility base hotel and casino, 2018) where the line goes "hokey cokey with the opposite sex." (someone mentioned it around here today and that's what sparked this post. EDIT: it's @homoirrealis https://www.tumblr.com/lalaballa1977/717488374837084160?source=share) now there's no clever oxymoron-metaphor situation here, but the choice of that specific dance to talk about sex (straight sex, as the songwriter so kindly points out) is very interesting to me. hokey cokey as we know is a campfire dance that originated with brit folk dances and tunes. it's so funny because whenever i hear that line it immediately takes me back to kindergarten and a bunch of us kids standing in a circle, singing the rhyme and learning the dance. therefore in my mind atleast, hokey cokey evokes images of practiced, monotonous movements of hand and feet, no fluidity, no elegance. also the communal aspect of it. what if we read it as something you are made to participate in because you are a part in a group, because a number of pairs of eyes are on you. a question worth pondering perhaps.

and all this referring to sex?

also the song goes on to entice you to escape to this swanky hotel-casino-taqueria up on the moon and get far, far away from shit that you have done and regret and want to forget. then why is this hokey cokey with the opposite sex also one of those things the narrator might want to forget?

Hmmmmm questions worth pondering, innit?

[strawberry-jan]

I had thought that my days of writing long fandom effort-posts were behind me but then I finished Gaiden and welp, here I am. I ugly sobbed at the ending and then spent the next several hours ugly sobbing in textual form at friends. I have some thoughts; I am going to put a few spoiler-heavy ones (read: a lot of them) under the cut after this brief (read: lengthy) spoiler-free introduction.

Y6 and Y7 left me feeling like the writers should’ve just retired Kiryu from the series after Y5, even if it meant leaving him lying there in the snow and never following up on whether he’d actually made it back to Haruka or was just dreaming. I have complained at length about nearly every aspect of Y6, but since it’s directly relevant to my feelings about Gaiden, let me state my gripe with the ending specifically: it was an absolutely bizarre move to position that game’s ending (1) after Y5 and (2) within a game that hits the player over the head repeatedly with the message that setting yourself on fire to keep other people warm is a mistake that hurts not only you but also those around you.

Kiryu walks down the sunny path away from Morning Glory at the end of Y6, and everything about the framing suggests that even though it’s bittersweet, it ultimately tends toward sweet: the old generation has made way for the new, Yuta is there to look after Haruka in Kiryu’s place (don't get me started on this), and his family is safe for good. The problem with this is that it’s a shit resolution considering the game’s themes and also a devastating ending specifically for Kiryu. We’ve just come off the heels of Y5, where it’s more obvious than ever that despite his gruff, stoic exterior, at heart he’s a warm, caring man who badly needs to be with the people he loves. Exiling himself to Nagasugai made him unspeakably unhappy; what he wants, and what everyone in his family wants, is to be together, and this is something that Y6 harps on initially and then forgets in its ending. Walking away from Morning Glory forever is condemning himself to a lingering death and neither Y6 nor Y7 acknowledges this meaningfully. (Y7, in fact, is infuriating about this; Kiryu’s cameo there felt so cheap and unnecessary that I, one of the man’s biggest fans, was irritated at seeing him there.) It would have been kinder to just kill him outright at the end of Y6.

In that context, Gaiden feels like an apology that also tells you, gently, that we're at the end of an era - for real this time.

Like a Dragon Gaiden: The Man Who Still Thinks Sunglasses Are a Proper Disguise is a roughly 25-hour outing (depending on how much time you sink into mahjong and whether you can get over your embarrassment long enough to close your blinds and watch the painfully awkward live-action hostess videos) in which the writers spend most of the run-time reassuring you, “Yes, actually, we do understand this character and the ramifications of his decision.” There are so many points in the story where it comes up that his family is the one thing that Kiryu wants and the one thing he can’t have. He’s explicit about his desire; you can go so far as to ask a wish-granting vagrant in a silly substory full of Dragon Ball (and also ball) jokes to give him his happy, peaceful life back, because even when Kiryu’s up to his balls in testicular puns, that’s what’s on his mind. There’s no façade that he puts up; the game simply acknowledges this want and goes, “Yes, that was the lesson you learned and discarded; sorry that you can’t act on it anymore, but that window closed in 2016 when you decided to die instead of taking the briefcase full of cash.”

So. This is sad enough. But what really broke me about the ending – and what I know really broke a lot of other people – was the fact that it’s so devastatingly clear that even if Kiryu were to have taken the Omi’s terrible offer to do away with Hanawa and get himself back to Okinawa, it wouldn’t have mattered. I think the writers were very deliberate about having everyone refer to the “kids in Okinawa” (yes, also in Japanese) when they make threats toward Kiryu’s family or talk about his desire to see them again. Kiryu thinks of them as his kids, but when he looks at the recording on Hanawa’s tablet, he sees adults with adult jobs and adult lives of their own. They love him, but their world has moved on without him, and there are no “kids in Okinawa” to return to; all this time, Kiryu has been clinging to a vision of his peaceful life with his kids that doesn’t exist and, in fact, cannot exist anymore. The series has always taken place (barring the spinoffs) roughly in the present moment with real time passing between entries, and I’ve never felt it so painfully acutely as I did in that moment when Kiryu realizes that Haruto can write.

And this is all of a piece, I think, with the speech he gives earlier in the game about wanting to do right by Kazama, Nishiki, and Yumi – more idealized visions of people he once knew and still loves. Hell, even though I’m disappointed not to get the fanservice that would’ve been Kiryu talking to Daigo, Majima, and Saejima at length, none of those members of the old guard have interacted with him since he left the hospital and went to jail at the start of Y6. It’s not just his kids who have moved on: Daigo is doing things for himself without sneaking back into Suzuki Taichi’s life to beg him for advice, and though Majima does roll his eye at Kiryu and tell him to stick around for a bit after the brawl (and the little knife-throw made me go hohohoh because I'm shameless and will take whatever scraps the studio deigns to give me), he and Saejima are bickering and joking around with each other like an old married couple. They’ve moved on, too, and Kiryu’s world is ghosts all the way down.

It's not all miserable, of course. I do genuinely love that Kiryu’s kids are happy, and although Kiryu sobs that he needed them more than they needed him, that seems more like a function of his chronically low self-esteem than anything based in reality. You can tell that the Morning Glory kids regarded him as a positive force in their lives and that they still do as adults – Taichi, for instance, says that he decided to be a firefighter because he wanted to protect people like Kiryu did. Kiryu’s family looked up to him but, crucially, without falling into the cycle that Kiryu did when he looked up to his own father figure. And it really warms my heart that clearly Haruka has been telling Haruto about her dad, such that the kid knows enough about oji-san to draw a picture of him with the rest of his family. I think a lot of other media’s writers would have chosen to make the Morning Glory kids bitter about Kiryu’s absence, to have them resent their dad for repeatedly disappearing on them. Maybe they did in fact feel upset with him for a while, but the video presents them all as happy and hopeful that maybe someday their not-dead dad will come back to have a drink with them – and I do hope that Y8 allows this to happen in some way. It wouldn’t be a return to his old life, but it would be something.

Anyway: I’d feel weird about talking at such great length about all of this without talking about the Big Dissolution Brawl and everything around it. It's all connected, after all. Just as Kiryu comes to the painful acknowledgement that his little world has moved on, so too does he have to beat it into Shishido’s skull that the organization that he’s still clinging to is a thing of the past. It’s not just that anti-Yakuza laws are making it more difficult for them to function and that the police and politicians have found ways to use them as scapegoats and pawns. It’s also that everyone who’s been in the business long enough understands that even the best men among them are still bastards and their organizations aren’t worth saving. Tsuruno – probably my favourite new character – is a fiercely loyal man who’s known for taking guys like Shishido under his wing; he also has no compunctions about plotting to murder Hanawa, threatening Kiryu’s family as a manipulation tactic, threatening Kiryu himself with a red-hot branding iron, and using Kiryu as an accessory to murder. Notable cool dude Watase made use of the Kijin Clan because their assassination services were necessary for him to get ahead, and he and Tsuruno readily discard Nishitani III the second he becomes a liability – gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet, after all. (I am not going into anything else about whatever the writers thought they were doing with Nishitani. I think there was something to do there with the game's interest in names and legacy but then, in classic RGG Studio fashion, they forgot to elaborate on it in any meaningful way.) For the first time since the late 80s, Kiryu is even forced to explicitly consider Kazama’s faults – albeit only briefly, and only in a substory.

Shishido himself wants to be the final boss of a previous game as if there's some kind of throne left to contend for (and his final fight is actually pretty reminiscent of the brawl with Aizawa, a high point in the series). And, at Kiryu’s insistence, he’s allowed to get out his blustering final speech about it – but he shouts about refusing to allow the old guard to dismantle the structure he’s ascended while everyone around him who actually matters is standing there, like, “Dude, the Tojo and Omi are over; read the room.” We're playing through the epilogue to Kiryu's saga, and we're seeing everything that drove that saga's conflicts being tied up or taken apart as needed. The kids will be alright no matter what happens to Kiryu, and while we already saw the Tojo Clan bite it in Y7 after its long decline over the course of the series, we're finally seeing that from the perspective of the guy who prolonged things by shoving Daigo into the chairman's seat and coming back to Kamurocho once a year or so for a Millennium Tower punch-out. Kiryu even acknowledges that, like Shishido, he loves this shit - "You hear someone out there's stronger... And soon your only thought is how to defeat them," he tells the man. But he goes on to say that that dream is meaningless in the face of other people's daily struggles. Again, it's time for everyone to move on. It's time for you as the player to move on, and you're being given one last real-time shirt-rip brawl against a man who won't accept that the era is over in order to underscore the point that it's over.

I’m not entirely sure how to finish this already too long post. There's a lot I haven't even touched on. I will say that I love Hanawa and Akame and Tsuruno. I love going back to Sotenbori. I love yet another game in which I can slam through the koi-koi and mahjong completion lists. I love all the callbacks and the sequence in the castle where you fight not-Kiryu and they've given him Gun and Sword like some kind of budget Sakamoto Ryoma. I love playing dress-up with my big burly guy. I love everything about the big boys’ night out in Chapter 4. I love that immediately after being tortured by Daidoji agents Kiryu can wander into the next room over to ask for a turn on their Sega Master System. I love how funny this game is when it's not socking me repeatedly in the gut. More than anything, I love that even though Kiryu’s enduring the world’s most drawn-out death sentence he’s still Kiryu and he’ll still snark at people and get really into little cars and involve himself in people's problems at the drop of a hat. I wish that I’d gotten to see Kiryu getting tripe with the old Tojo guard at the end of the game, but that’s what fic is for. I will not be writing that fic any time soon because I’m still way too deep in my feelings about this game to write anything cheerful about it. As I said, Gaiden feels like an apology, and while it made me cry harder than a video game has ever made me cry before, I’m so happy to have received it.

[onemillionfurries]

not for nothing, but around 2021 the CEO of the studio behind palworld was tweeting about ai generated pokemon designs, and how he “can almost not tell the difference,” referencing that exact article, actually. I do not think every single design was ai generated or that any ai references were used from start to finish with no human touch, but the CEO is very openly interested in ai technology and its applications in game development! I don’t think its a stretch to guess it may have been used somewhere in the pipeline. and as someone who also messed around with fakemon generators when the tech was still a bit novel, some of the designs do have that ai stink to them, even from around that time.

yeah i chose that article specifically bc i knew that the CEO had referenced it in a tweet. I WANTED to get into it in the post, but it was also 9am and I hadn't gotten a wink of sheep that night (... bc i was up all night playing palworld WHOOPS--) (im writing this off a 2 hour nap so pls forgive me if it's incomprehensible)

I remember the whole "palworld used ai to gen its monsters" narrative literally started because someone qrt'd someone pointing out that CEO's tweet and extrapolated that because the CEO spoke positively on AI generated pokemon, then the game MUST have AI generated monster designs which... wasn't what the original tweet was saying at all. but unfortunately nuance and reason is like poison to twitter so the speculation spiraled from there. (not like tumblr is much better. but I at least have the space to explain myself here, however poorly that may be :P)

And like, the unfortunate thing is that nearly /every/ CEO is interested in AI. their whole job is to make money, not art. some are just louder about it than others. with the insane crunch that the pokemon developers go through, I wouldn't be surprised if AI is also used in those games somewhere in the pipeline, whether that's in the past or a future release.

Let's also not forget when the pokemon company international was interested in hiring simeone with knowledge in NFT/web3 technology. if we're automatically assuming that open interest in something means that it's implemented, or that it will be at some point, then we better get to boycotting pokemon now!

I wanna be clear that I'm not defending the use of AI art in game development. it may very well be that AI /was/ used somewhere in the Palworld pipeline. I just don't want people to be asserting something as true with little to no actual evidence. ever since I got "called out" by an ex-friend of mine for some heinous shit that i quite literally never did, I've been a lot more diligent in figuring out if something people are freaking out about on social media IS actually true, or if it was a mountain made out of a molehill, as it tends to be 99% of the time.

(btw I'm curious as to what pals you think have that AI stink to them? im generally trying to avoid spoilers for later game pals bc i wanna discover them on my own, but if you wanna send a list or something that I can look up when im further in the game I'd be interested.)

[isnt-it-pretty]

Pray to Blades of Grass (Village Keeper!Cyno AU) Notes! Part 1 of 2

Since I didn't write the entire AU, I decided to post my notes about what took place before the one-shot Pray to Blades of Grass (read here!). The notes are point form and below the cut.

See part 2 of the notes here because there was too much for one post.

Both these notes and the fic are a TW for past/referenced suicide attempt + self-harm.

Pray to Blades of Grass

Cyno’s name was nothing but a ghost story among Rtawahist scholars, his genius all but forgotten beyond the label of “mad scholar.”   Tighnari never forgot.  . Tighnari has spent four years travelling between Gandharva Ville and Aaru Village. He made peace with his loss, happy to have even what little of Cyno remained. Nahida wouldn’t let that stand. (AU where Cyno was never General Mahamatra.)

Cyno was part of the Spantamad darshan (elementalism, the same as Lisa) but decided to change schools to the Rtawahist darshan (illuminationism, and also Haypasia's darshan) due to an interest in understanding the gods. He was student when he and Tighnari met. He was considered a genius within the Sumeru Akademiya for his work in Spantamad and for making brief contact with Irminsul after only a couple years of training. (Even faster than Haypasia). 

Tighnari worried about the danger, but he trusted Cyno. By the time everything happened, he and Cyno had already been together for some time.

Cyno, like Haypasia, tended to forget to eat when meditating, which he usually did in a special, mirrored mediation room at the Akademiya. I can't believe that all Rtawahist scholars meditate in the forest, so it would make sense for them to have rooms designated for that.

Tighnari brought him food after one such mediation session where, unknown to him, Cyno successfully contacted Irminsul and Divine Knowledge. I headcanon that what causes the madness in scholars isn't actually the divine knowledge, but rather, they come in contact with the withering within Irminsul.

Tighnari knocked and, when Cyno didn't answer, opened the door to the room. It smelled strongly of Spirit Borneol. The room's mirrors were shattered, and Cyno was collapsed on the ground, covered in blood. He held a shard of the broken mirrors in his hand. Tighnari dropped the food he had brought and tried to staunch the bleeding as he screamed for help. 

Cyno was taken away for medical care, and Tighnari was questioned extensively by the Matra. After Cyno woke up, he was officially deemed a mad scholar and exiled to the desert. Tighnari didn't even get to see him again before that happened. 

It takes two months for Tighnari to make it to the desert. His grades were slipping, he couldn't eat, had no appetite, and all his passion for his classes was gone. Rumours spread about him and Cyno.

The week that Akademiya students generally went to Port Ormos, Tighnari went to the desert. Getting there sucked, but he eventually arrived in Aaru Village. An older woman asks him if he's lost, and he explains he's looking for somebody. She sends him to Candace.

Candace is polite, if terse, and softens when he tells her he wants to visit his friend. Since the Akademiya views the mad scholars are some sort of contagion, very few people visited them, even friends and family. Tighnari is one of the first. When she points that out, Tighnari snaps that the Akademiya is full of shit and that there has never been a conclusive study to show that a scholar's madness is contagious-- it's propaganda to cover up the Akademiya's failings to protect their students.

When he asks after Cyno specifically, it takes Candace time to realize who Tighnari means. The Matra didn't tell them Cyno's name, and Cyno hadn't spoken since he arrived two months prior. She takes him to visit Cyno, who lives with a family in the village. (I refuse to believe they just let the Village Keepers live in tents around the village, so I have them stay with families who care for them as best they can)

The family he lives with is surprised at the visit but gladly invites them in. They tell Tighnari about what they've noticed, like how getting Cyno to eat is difficult, and he likes to scribble indecipherable symbols over all the paper he can find. Tighnari says he'll help if he can but doesn't know how it will go since he didn't get a chance to talk to Cyno before he was exiled. 

Cyno's room is small, with just a straw bed and table, but it's well cared for. Cyno is also well cared for, with his hair brushed and braided-- something Tighnari knows he didn't do since Cyno never had the patience for that. 

Cyno looks up when Tighnari enters and, for a moment, stares lifelessly before something like recognition enters his gaze. He smiles and says, "Tighnari," his voice hoarse from lack of use, and Tighnari breaks. Cyno is obviously not living in the same world, but he recognizes Tighnari, which is more than Tighnari expected. He gets Cyno to eat and drink while there, and Cyno leans against him happily.

Tighnari reluctantly has to go but promises he'll be back. He returns to school, finishes his degree, and then leaves for the Avidya Forest with an adamant refusal to work with the Akademiya, partly because of what happened to Cyno.

Every two months, Tighnari takes two to travel and stay in Aaru Village with Cyno. The only reason he doesn't take Cyno back to Gandharva Ville is because he knows Cyno loves the desert. 

Tighnari learns the name of everybody in Aaru Village and spends his time there helping treat their ailments in thanks for their care for Cyno. He brings Cyno incense (that he personally can't stand the smell of anymore), honeyed dates, dried mangoes, notebooks and pens, tea, etc., and tells Cyno all about the rain forest even if Cyno isn't lucid.

Part 2 of the notes

[gadunkie]

rant post about the online queer community

hey after going outside and talking to real life people for a while Ive come to the conclusion that most of the online queer community is just horrible for queer people. hi reddit today Im going to ramble on about how the queer space on the internet has somehow regressed back into separation under a more progressive and performative light. so after being on tumblr for like, fucking 7-8 years or some shit as well as experiencing other queer spaces on other social media platforms (twitter and reddit, mostly twitter) for only a couple years, Ive come to the conclusion that people are so caught up in their own asses that theyve completely misunderstood and forgot why the queer community exists. side note: I dont care how messy this post is or if the points made are all over the place, this is tumblr.com who gives a shit.

as far as Im concerned, a lot of non-queer and especially religious people really dont like us queers. unfortunately we were all born in a world where we suffer as a minority under laws and power that would really rather have us killed than working together. as such a collective of queer people started banding together under a community where we were finally allowed a space to be ourselves and live as people. the community consists of fags, dykes, transsexuals and whoever was in-between or outside of those terms. our relation comes from how we are rejected from living normal lives for simply trying to express romance or identity in a way that would finally make us feel alive. so it would only make sense to band together and make sure each of us finally have a home and a life we always wanted to live, surrounded by people who would finally accept us for who we are, right?

ya!!!11!!11one thats the whole point of the queer community, to band together and finally be treated as people. but the one problem that I see nowadays is that the current queer community just doesnt fucking do that. Im bad at formulating problems in an essay-like way so Im just gonna make a list of things and explanations underneath ok? :) :) :) 1. the queer community unfairly fetishes women: now theres nothing wrong with liking women sexually or romantically or whatever, in fact it doesnt correlate with the above sentence at all. Ive noticed in my time on using the internet, that queer people tend to hate or forget people who arent women. whether they are men, or nonbinary, or both, or none at all. women have a much larger audience than other queer people and its stupid. its gotten to the point where I forgot that the trans flag included women, men, and those who dont identify with either. I just got used to seeing them depicted with women or feminine figures that arent cis. I literally didnt make the connection until a few days ago that people other than women completely belong under that community as well, yet Ive seen so much trans discussion that only involve women and no one else. lets change that please, people who dont identify as women belong with the rest of the trans community. I feel ridiculous saying that because I shouldnt feel like I have to even formulate that sentence at all.

2. the majority of the queer community doesnt care about brown people: now there are a lot of online queer people who arent actively or intentionally trying to be racist but I cant help but notice that they tend to forget about brown people a lot, specifically black people now that I think about it a bit more. you guys remember when a new version of the pride flag came out and it looked the exact same but they added brown and black colors onto the flag? strange that at the same time the blm protests were also really popular and part of current events at the time as well, its almost as if it was simply a performative gesture to signify what should have already been obvious. even after those colors were added, black people were just forgotten again. Im not even going to sugarcoat it I dont think the majority of the online queer community would even care if black people just died, because they already dont. but this isnt just about black people either, anyone with darker skin tones, no matter the ethnic group, are either used for diversity gestures or completely forgotten about overall. it has been pointed out multiple times that tumblr staff has actively silenced or banned accounts belonging to brown people. actually the only time I saw tumblr even care about shadow banning was when they started doing it to trans women, what a fucking shit show. its so easy to care about people no matter their skin color its literally so fucking easy, why is it impossible for the majority of this community to do that.

3. why are we fucking separating ourselves from each other: hi Im sure youve noticed that Ive been saying the word "queer" over and over again. first of all, if it bothers you, grow up. the queer community have fought for decades to reclaim phrases used against us dont give it power again. second of all, I prefer saying queer over lgbtqia+ because it unites us all under one word rather than an acronym pointing out each little category of queer people. theres nothing wrong with trying to create an identity for yourself that means a lot to you and makes you feel more comfortable for yourself, but I have to argue and say that certain labels just seem pointless and belong under ones that have already existed before their creation. yet I dont blame people for using different ones than the labels that have already existed because I think we collectively failed to inform people that those labels can have multiple meanings. bisexual doesnt just mean you like cis men and cis women, it means you like anyone you want to. transgender doesnt mean you are now the opposite of your assigned gender, it just means that you arent cis. it also doesnt mean that you need to have surgery done on you or that you wear different clothes than the norm either. although I see the point of creating extra labels, I ultimately think they do more harm than good. we have to stick together to survive, any more individual groups then we are as good as gone.

those are the general points that Ive wanted to make anyway. I would love to type more but I have a feeling that the reading comprehension on this site wouldnt survive the first two paragraphs.

the last thing I want to say is that you should find more ways to be together than try and exclude each other, because while youre calling yourself a "foxgirl bi lesbian enby demiboy" there are queer people in real life being kidnapped and mutilated for simply trying to exist.

please for the love of everything that keeps us alive and safe, find ways to stick together.

[archerism]

hey sorry to ask this on your non-art blog but i was wondering if you could explain the process and decisions you make when - and im not sure if im saying this properly because im still new to art - you apply stylistic choices to anatomy? i love your art and what im curious about is how you make your anatomy stylistic while retaining their recognizability? do you feel that there are certain details about a reference that you should capture to retain that more than others? thank you for your time! i hope this made sense!

anon you're lovely. i'll try and answer this the best i can, but--crucially--i have very little in the way of actual artistic training and have truly been making shit up this whole time, so grain of salt for everything i say! (under the cut because its long)

firstly i wanna say 2 disclaimers:

i have been doing art/capturing faces for a Long Ass Time (i think art's been my main hobby for...nearly a decade now?). i'm only "good" because i have a shit ton of practice. art always takes time and effort, there isn't like. A Key to doing it perfectly

i don't always get it right! i only post the things which turn out the best! i have a ton of poorly done drawings that look nothing like the person i'm trying to capture.

alright, that being said. there are certain features i try to get right for any person i'm trying to capture: face shape/jawline, nose, eye shape/tilt/distance, eyebrows, and lips (or lack thereof). yes this may seem like all the features. it is not tho.

after that i look for anything else that stands out: for BJ, for instance, it's his ears, the shape of his forehead/his hairline, and the particular kinda down-turned/hangdog look of his stache (he is SO hard to draw without it, for me), and for Hawkeye it's his cheeks/laugh lines when he smiles (the lines around his mouth and his crow's feet), his occasional double chin, and his brow ridge.

and these aren't things i ever render in like, insane detail...just little lines following the contours of features and indicating that they're There usually does fine? for stronger features like face shape/nose/etc it takes a bit more intentional doing, for me, but i still tend to just do The Outlines. (it might be helpful to pull up a reference and just trace whichever features stick out the most to you, and go from there)

after that its a lot of trial and error. like, a LOT. for me it usually takes several passes with several different references at different angles/with different expressions, or a while of looking at a person (so like. binging a show, or being friends with someone for a while), or both, in order to get a feel for someone's face and be able to draw it consistently.

(to illustrate this point and also embarrass myself, here are my first ever attempts at drawing Hawkeye right after i started MASH in 2022, vs a much more recent attempt:

as you can see i was fucking struggling. lmao. again it's all about time/practice/familiarity)

after a while of trial and error, you'll start to get a feel for which features you want to emphasize--it won't be the same for every character, and you probably won't emphasize all the same things another artist would. and the specific way you capture/emphasize features will be unique to you! here are some more artists with similar(ish) stylized styles you should check out and get inspo from (i certainly have), in no particular order: leescribbs, loopnoid, steadbox, tinyufoboss, averysartblog, pherredraws, and a ton more i'm probably forgetting (sorry)

you don't have to do everything i do (or everything anyone else does) with your own stuff, this is just how i personally do it. i wish you the best of luck with your art journey, anon! i hope you have fun with it!!! :-)

[caparrucia]

💥

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

I mean...

Okay but jokes aside, I do have thoughts about criticism and fanfic!

Personally, I love criticism. Criticism is not the only way to learn, but it's definitely one of the best and fastest ways to get better. Feedback is awesome and should be encouraged!

But there's the caveat that we're talking about fanfic, and fanfic is primarily a labor of love. People do this shit for fun, and sometimes people forget that.

There's also a difference between criticism and critique, and I feel tumblr is super bad at nuance and understanding the difference. Criticism is aimed at the author, it's made with the expectation the author will see it. You're engaging the author in a conversation because you have opinions about their work and you want them to know it. Whether the opinions are positive or negative doesn't really change the fact you're actively trying to get a reaction from the writer. Critique is aimed at the work. Critique is not necessarily aimed at the writer, nor should it expect a direct response from the writer. Critique is an exercise on the reader's part to contextualize and analyze the work and it's component parts and what its effects are.

The way I look at it is like this:

"The way this fic handles death makes me sad" is criticism, "the way this fic portrays romance is a good example of the recent trend of coffeeshop AUs" is critique.

I think the difference is valid because sometimes you want to say something about a fic in its context, but it's not a comment on the work itself or for the writer to interact with, and yet people insist on throwing it at the writer anyway.

There's a very contested point of view that insists because a work is put out in the open it's free game for criticism and critique, and I don't entirely disagree. If you put your work out there, it's out of your hands and people will interpret and find meaning in it in ways you can't control. If you can't make peace with that, the only option you have is to not publish at all.

But the people who tend to go hard on that stance tend to be the people who like to abuse the concept of criticism to be abusive towards writers under the guise of criticism. So I'm also perpetually resisting the urge to remind people they're hissing and frothing over fanfic, and in the large scale of things, fanfic doesn't matter.

On the other other end of the spectrum, you have critiques about the way fanfic in specific, and on a broader sense, fan culture as a whole, reproduces systemic oppressive structures that other and ostracize fans that aren't white or cis or straight. And those critiques are super valid and important should not be just ignored or demonized as people trying to "censor" fandom. Because it's not about censoring bigotry, and that's what tends to make people frothy. It's not that you're not allowed to write bigotry in your stories. It's that writing bigotry in your stories should ideally be a choice, not an unexplored, unquestioned reflection of your biases.

Fans of color have been particularly loud in explaining how aggressively racist fandom can be, when it comes to pointing out "hey, all those slave AUs you keep churning out are super racist" and people immediately going "this is right wing propaganda trying to silence us all!" Like, critique is a great tool to start conversations about the kind of art we're making, because if fanfic wants to be considered art and people want to keep insisting they're "Hugo winners" because they post in AO3, you kinda have to be open to the idea that critique is part of that legitimized existence. You can't have it both ways: you can't claim fanfic is a niche hobby people do for fun, and also insist that it's a bastion of representation to make up for media censorship.

Mostly I just wish people could take these discussions in good faith.

Me, personally? I try to approach criticism and critique in good faith. But I'm not here to be anyone's punching bag and when people are clearly just in it to be abusive or insist on making me responsible for their choices? (Ie, I clicked on the link and it said there was porn and there was porn in your fic and now I'm traumatized, HOW DARE!) Yeah, no. Fuck that. That's what the block button is for.

[devilsskettle]

i forget whose tags these were but i’m borrowing them because i’ve been thinking about this exact thing basically since i first watched the movie lol and yeah i feel the same way, i am so like. compelled by the main group of characters, especially maxine, and the overall vibe or whatever, i think it has great atmosphere/setting and a lot of gore and like slasher shit that i enjoyed, but i don’t like basically the premise of the movie. like half of the plot. because i hate the antagonists, i’m just never gonna be onboard with the “creepy old people” thing, i think they went way over the top with trying to make them look “gross” which i actually think made it less effective and it would’ve been a better movie if they’d gone with older-but-not-quite-elderly normal looking people tbh, the script would have minimal to no changes with that decision anyway, though i have some editing ideas for more thematic clarity and cohesiveness lol, but yeah i think that trope is super ineffective in general and also i think there’s a lot of implications with how they handled like aging etc that i don’t like and somehow it was also super aimless, like “yeah. uh, scary old people. don’t think about it too much” even though it’s actively raising a lot of questions about filmmaking and exploitation and sex appeal and the fleeting nature of youth/“the x factor” as they say. i am so conflicted about whether or not it’s actually successful in making any point in particular and i don’t think it is lol, it just leaves a lot of questions floating around, even if they’re pretty good questions. i a don’t need everything wrapped up neatly, sometimes it’s good for a movie to make you question things instead of like preaching at you, but i also think the movie acts like it was trying to make a specific point? and the first half of the movie does have that specificity but then. yeah. it got aimless. and then it tries to shoehorn in some religious shit in at the last minute? it’s sort of peppered in once or twice but not effectively and it’s like, pick one or two things to focus on and do them well. but the overall experience of watching the movie for me kind of outweighs the bad, there are so many scenes i do like, basically all the scenes that are character-focused wrt the main group, and a lot of the horror scenes are really fun and well done imo and gory, and re: horror: it’s very clearly in conversation around 70s slasher movies especially tcm in a way that i found very thought provoking, it’s possible that i’m reading too much into it but it’s both a celebration and a criticism of the genre without meta about the genre (though it’s self reflexive about itself) which i think is unique in a post-slasher, post-scream landscape of cinema, and it’s like this is the closest thing i’ve seen in modern horror to be a genuine slasher. and like you get the sense that that’s what they set out to do and when the camera guy says it’s possible to make a good dirty movie, we know what they mean is we’re gonna make a good slasher movie and here it is, which is pretentious lol and i have some problems with what that implies about all those other trashy thoughtless bad slasher movies, like they’re different. ha. but it’s also clever and the audience is in on the joke and i don’t think it shies away from any slasher shit like they let it be gory and sometimes absurd and that’s a risk horror movies tend not to take nowadays because they don’t want it to be seen as trashy mindless stupid etc. anyway, also it has a great ending for the most part so when it leaves you with that, that’s the energy and experience you walk away with and idk it worked on me lol. it makes no damn sense, compels me though or whatever. oh damn i just thought of a bunch of other new things but this is already getting to be a sizable tangent so i’ll stop here. in conclusion: mia goth

[6ermi]

I usually tend to bite my tongue when it comes to certain opinions to avoid being called certain names like a pick me or whatever.

With that being said: I hate men.

more specifically i hate men that hate woman or think they’re above woman misogynists. Surfing on places like twitter, reddit and even instagram, I’ll find these insufferable people just chatting and they all share the common trait of being nasty people.

(i typed that first sentence completely forgetting that there’s a word for people who hate woman)

i’m gonna get lost in my train of thought if i talk about the specific things i’ve seen these nasty people do in one essay so imma do bullet points so that i can focus my thoughts.

“Woman ≠ Funny”

I’ve seen tweets and posts of woman making jokes either about men directly or relating to men (relating to men meaning like they talk about cars, football, shit that men like) and these jokes are tame and/or funny, these are jokes that men have made about woman just with the topic switched. In the comments of these jokes usually contain a flood of people making misogynistic comments like “Woman can’t be funny” “Go back to the kitchen” “You’re ugly/fat” all of that nonsense.

I’ve seen other more elaborate versions of these comments but they’re always more harsh than what the joke is about. The joke can be about how men with loud cars are a little silly looking and the comments are those exact men with loud cars talking about her appearance, depending on how many posts they have they will dig around just to weaponize it like it’s so sad.

All of those people have fragile egos and i don’t even think they realize it. These types of comments spawned two other types of comments: The woman who are attacking the people who’s saying misogynistic comments (which i have no problem with) and people who comment “Y’all are fighting invisible comments”. I FUCKING HATE THAT! Do those people think that people will see a video and just comment these defensive comments just for the hell of it? Obviously it’s because they’re fighting back on the negativity that they themselves see. Just because you don’t see those exact comments it doesn’t mean it’s not there at all, those people can’t fucking think it’s annoying.

Those type of podcasters

I fucking hate these new wave of individuals who buy a mic, set up a camera and just talk about absolute nonsense. it’s shit about how men are at the top and woman are bottom, men are providers and woman are caretakers blah blah. I hate it all.

not only do i hate those podcasters but i hate the fans as well because they’re nothing but parrots repeating the same things these losers are preaching talking about how they’re high value and how woman should be flocking to them just because. Funny part about all of that is that the fans should not be saying those things because they look grotesque.

Individuals who scare off woman away from looks alone. I don’t know where these people came from, all of them are like in their 30s and it first started off with Andrew Tate and then Fresh and Fit and then Whatever, i know there’s a shit ton more but those are the names that first come to mind since i love watching videos of people making fun of them

Another thing about the whole thing is how all of them are horrible people outside of being misogynistic. It’s not surprising but it’s i guess eye opening idk. There’s a guy that’s not coming to mind and he preaches this idea that one man cannot be “tied” to one woman alone and men are meant to go around and repopulate as much as they want. A lot of these degenerates also follow that word but this guy in particular beats on woman. It’s something that’s not so surprising coming from a misogynist but it’s still something to make you go “woah” at least for me.

Try and find these people on the internet and you’ll see how they’re not what they think they are. I can go long with this topic but im in class and i wanna talk about other things.

Catcalling

What the fuck do men expect to happen after catcalling? I’ve been fortunate enough to grow up surrounded by woman and because of that i’ve heard a lot of stories that has to do with catcalling, it’s always disgusted me and it’s also angered me because there’s nothing that can be truly done… i think.

I’ve only experienced one incident where a man catcalled a woman. I was walking to my home and there was this woman a few feet from where i was. We were both going to the same direction. Since she was in my field of view, i saw how pretty she looked, she was wearing a bright colorful sundress with a hourglass figure or in other words she had a big butt (im sure that’s an unnecessary detail but im trying to paint an image in your head) I didn’t want to be a creep so i looked everywhere around her location so i can know where im walking.

Then comes this guy, dressed all in black walking like he was wearing rocks as shoes. He sees the woman and starts chatting thinking he has what it takes to impress her except he’s saying things like “Damn you got an ass, ma!” “Let me talk to you” and things of that nature. Obviously the woman is not even looking at him just walking forward like she was before the encounter. When the guy finally got the hint he retaliated by calling her ugly and insulting her as he walked away.

I witnessed it and i was disgusted. What do these people expect to happen? They say some disrespectful thing and the woman just starts twirling their hair and proceeds to talk to them? It’s such a pathetic thing to do. Catcalling is bad enough, like if i could i would take a bat and hit catcallers in the head like how negan does to that character in The Walking Dead but what makes it even worse is the insult at the end when being rejected.

How are you gonna disrespectfully “compliment” and then insult someone who didn’t want to talk to you. It makes me wonder again what do they expect to happen? I don’t know if this falls under the category of misogynistic but i feel like the entitlement these people have makes it so.

I know there’s other things i hate when it comes to degenerate men and their treatment of women. Maybe i’ll make a part two later on.

Bye.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[walkuntilthedaylight]

The people have spoken! How can I not give them what they want?

I'm gonna put this all under a cut, since it's a bit long, and also because it's highly interpretative/speculative and not everyone likes those kinds of posts as they can be rather subjective and, I suppose, invasive. I want to give two major caveats to my thoughts below: first is that I tend not to buy the idea that Paul was the "stable/normal" Beatle, mostly b/c I view marijuana dependency and workaholism as addictions and I take them pretty seriously. Second is that I really do love this kind of tabloid/gossip/personal account shit; I think it should be taken with a handful of salt, but I don't think it should be entirely dismissed out of hand either. I read this stuff like I'm piling up sheets of stained glass: I'm intrigued by the places where the colours blend and overlap, and ignore things that fall outside the prism. Anyway, let's dig in:

Okay, so what I found fascinating about 'Body Count' is that it's one of the only sources which observes Paul McCartney's mental health during the period between the India trip and when the band breakup really got rolling. I think it's overall a fairly self-absorbed text that definitely has some lies and exaggerations peppered in there to make things spicier and more dramatic, but its broad characterization - as I mentioned in my first post - isn't exactly libelous or out of left field. Some elements that make me think it's generally if not wholly authentic are: Paul's simultaneously forceful and dorky seduction style, his terrible Liverpool diet and poor housekeeping, the bouts of thrill-seeking recklessness, avoidant adventure crafting, dark moods when drinking non-socially, the occasional hot and cold bouts with the Apple Scuffs camped out at his gate, and the way in which he underplays his drug habit, which is SO "in truthfulness we spent most of the filming of Help! slightly stoned":

These details are so bizarrely specific and have significant overlap with both sympathetic and spurned personal accounts of Paul I've read in the past, so I believe Francie is just telling "Her Version Of The Truth" here rather than crafting a piece of pure fiction. The most important and revealing anecdote in the book is this one.

There's no reason not to believe this is a fairly accurate representation of something that actually happened, imo, since we know that anxious purse strings were an ongoing issue in the unusual turnover rate within the band Wings, and there are plenty of confirmed and rumoured cases alike of extended family members feeling entitled to a "piece of the pie"; this is just like, the kind of thing that happens to working class people who get catapulted into fame and fortune. And Paul in particular already had deep-seated financial anxiety for whatever reasons he'll never fully admit (as is his right, but I think his offhand claim that he "once heard some adults arguing about money and that's why" might actually be alluding to having heard some adults - y'know, like his parents - arguing over money fairly frequently). What esp interests me about the anecdote is the way Paul seems to connect the conflict b/t his dual "identities" with these financial expectations. Perhaps the CAPSLOCK emotional hysteria related in the book is puffed up for drama, but it does bring to mind one of the most revealing comments Linda ever made about their relationship, which is that Paul needed to be told he would still be loved when the cameras weren't rolling. And that's the thing: Francie caught Paul at the exact moment that the pillars of his Smile-For-The-Camera "Beatle" identity were collapsing; the dissolution of his relationships with John and Jane.

Whatever all this could possibly mean re: the breakup of the Lennon-McCartney partnership is a post for another time. What I wanna do instead is apply the level of speculation we usually reserve for that relationship to the endpoint of Paul and Jane's courtship.

So like, Paul and Jane: I know people are resistant to this specific POV, but I honestly just don't... think it was that deep? "Not deep", mind you, doesn't mean "not significant". Paul was obviously Jane's first love (u never forget), but the feeling I get from Paul's side (as a subconscious process I mean) is that Jane's importance was primarily as a lynchpin in his London Socialite persona. He loved her family, he loved the friend group, the artistic scene dating her gave him access to, as well as the leg up he got in the class system, etc. He liked to be the kind of guy who was dating Jane Asher. But I don't know that he was the guy who was dating Jane Asher, you get me? When people describe their "great love" they accidentally tell on them (Cynthia innocently describing Paul as being pleased to have her on his arm like a trophy; John: "it was an ordinary love scene"; Alistair Taylor noting that Paul was humiliated by the breakup). Paul's a serial monogamist who U-Hauls like a lesbian, of course, so he definitely took the relationship VERY seriously, but it's telling that all of his love songs to her were either about hitting a brick wall in arguments (certainly not dreamy, fond, yearning of "sunday morning fights about saturday night"; and occasionally expressing hints of class tension too), or completely non-descript Guy With A Guitar Trying To Get Laid shit. I could extrapolate a lot about Linda just from listening to McCartney I/RAM and the Wings discography, but 'And I Love Her' doesn't tell me a single thing about Jane besides that she's pretty. It could be about literally anyone the same way 'My Love' or 'Maybe I'm Amazed' could only be about his dynamic with Linda. Some of this is obviously the natural result of getting older and gaining emotional maturity; what I'm saying is that Paul's behaviour and self-expression in this relationship does not suggest to me that it was one in which his emotional maturity was able to develop or flourish.

I want to stress again that I don't think this belittles the significance of the relationship or makes it "bad" or "fake". Like, sometimes hot people just date for a while in their teens and twenties and love each other without necessarily unlocking their inner emotional cores, usually because they don't know how to. It's, like, fine. You need to experience relationships like that as stepping stones. I simply believe that this sort of front-facing social importance being prime in the romance is a major factor in why it ultimately didn't work (and probably in Linda's reported lingering jealousy of Jane, who wasn't just an ex, but also a symbol of the life Paul ditched to build a new identity w/ her, and sometimes still pined for). With Jane, Paul was dating the "right" kind of girl (didn't put out on the first date, erudite and middle class, as serious about her career as he was, a good "celebrity" match), but the relationship often wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. Francie's observation is that by 1968 it also wasn't doing what he needed it to do either. This is the overwhelming "mood" in her affair with Paul McCartney: that he needed something very badly from a romantic partner that he just was NOT getting, and Francie couldn't figure out what it was either:

(note that she means "queer" as in "mad", not "gay")

This was an EXTREMELY roundabout way of asking: well, what WAS it that Paul needed a relationship to do for him? And I think this is Francie's big, accidental insight. The most scandalous claim in 'Body Count' is that Paul told Francie that he hit Jane and it "turned her on".

I personally think this is p. absurd absent any real proof to back it up, but like, what is Francie actually saying HE'S saying here? If she's exaggerating or lying, she's trying to make it believable within the psychological parameters laid out, right? It's not an expression of some secret desire to dominate women she's accusing him of, but emotional disturbance and confusion at the idea that the woman he was with might like that sort of forceful, masculine violence more than his softer, feminine side, which he was - yeah, we all know it - deeply insecure about.

Regardless of whether specific details are true or false (and I think there's both in this story, all hyper-magnified to make it, y'know, a ~STORY~), I think what might be true is the emotional undertow of the retelling, that this all taken together is actually representative of the side of Paul McCartney she was exposed to, at a time when his public and private facades had both become unbearable to the point of cracking and the drug-fueled optimism of the Summer of Love was getting scrubbed off of everyone and everything. It's the Paul McCartney who eviscerated frogs because he was worried he was too "soft" for compulsory military service. The Paul who modelled his masculine teen behaviour off John Lennon's fake "Marlon Brando" swagger, but was actually more fond of the velvet "Oscar Wilde" interior.

What's SO FASCINATING about all this to me, is I deeply believe that one of the key factors in what makes The Beatles music so unique and compelling is that both the songwriters experienced psychological strain from the tension b/t their parochial socially-defensive "masculine" pride, and their sensitive "feminine" core, the latter of which they were able to express in the unburdened emotionality of their music. The reason I care about doing these totally unhinged psych analyses is because I do think it reveals something about the underpinnings of the music, as well as the reasons why the band was such a hysteria-inducing phenomenon (the rise of psychology, imo, is almost as important as the rise of industrialization as a defining factor of the modern and postmodern eras; mass psychology can be understood and wielded in precise ways, and The Beatles were one of the first empires built on that). The subconscious drives caused by this tension have been ENDLESSLY picked apart re: John's psyche, but Paul's "mirrored" issues are very under-discussed (mostly b/c he's still alive so people are a little more leery about putting him on the "couch" as a historical figure). 'Body Count', intentionally or not, painted a portrait to me of someone who was drowning in their own ill-fitting celebrity "suit", collapsing under the weight of "Being" "Paul McCartney". A guy who desperately needed some sort of space to be vulnerable without feeling emasculated for doing it. By 1968, there was no one in his life anymore - and maybe there hadn't been for a while, or ever - who was giving him this space.

In other words: the thing he needed to avoid going "stark raving queer and killing himself" was simply someone who would love him 'after the ball'.

EDIT: read the comments for further clarification and discussion! ;)

[inkskinned]

When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift. 

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey. 

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing. 

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.  

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit. 

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way. 

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

[deadmandairyland]

Hi! I’m here to bring you yet another Danganronpa tier list: the sexuality tier list, which you can find here.

Now I’m going to be honest here: I don’t really have any LGBT headcanons. It’s just not really something I focus on much when it comes to fandoms. Instead I usually just focus on ships, and as a result from that I tend to present a lot of characters as LGBT in fanfictions and posts I’ve made or reblogged. In other words, a massive chunk of my “headcanons” here are a direct result of shipping (as well as information I’ve picked up from the games themselves). That being said, it was interesting to actually think about this for once, so I’m kinda glad I did the tier list. And it gave me an excuse to bring back the rainbow color scheme I usually put in my tier lists for aesthetic reasons.

The original tier list had Straight at the top, but I moved it to the bottom for two reasons. One, this is Tumblr and that’s not what you’re here for. Two, I gave it a neutral color, and having a gray section next to a white section (i.e. the title of the list) like that looked bad to me. I definitely prefer this setup just on aesthetic alone.

Because this is largely based on ships, I feel it needs to be said that representation does not factor into this chart in any way. I know it probably looks bad that the only character in the Lesbian category is one of my least favorite (though NOT hated or even disliked, I should point out) characters in the main series. That has nothing to do with the fact that she’s a lesbian. She’s just a jerk, and usually not in a way that’s at least entertaining enough for me to like her.

Also keep in mind that this is just the main cast of the main series games. If you were to include characters from the DR3 anime, UDG, or the spin-offs, the Gay, Lesbian, and Ace categories would get more rep, certainly. Think Juzo, Yui, Takemichi, that gay guy with the trumpet, etc.

With that said, let’s go through the list:

Gay

Not gonna lie, one of the reasons why Rantaro is here (and not in Ace) is because of ships. Though I do sometimes ship him with girls, canon suggests he’s not interested in dating girls, and most fans seem to headcanon him as either gay or ace because of this, so I respected that. That being said, I also acknowledge he’s a very popular character in mlm ships, and at the time I was putting this together I hadn’t gotten to Taka yet so the Gay tier was still empty, and Byakuya was already sitting in Ace, so all of that swayed me to putting Rantaro here instead of Ace.

Taka was much easier to place here. He strikes me as a closeted gay man who probably doesn’t even realize he is gay. “Hey, let’s all hang out in the bath, guys! Getting naked is essential to form bonds with your fellow man! No need to be ashamed, it’s tradition!"

Lesbian

Again, ships. I only ship Hiyoko with one other character, and as soon as I say that you already know who she is.

Bisexual (Male Preference)

Akane is mostly here to account for any wlw ships I may have of her (e.g. Hina, Sonia maybe). Obviously she has a thing with Nekomaru, so Male Preference.

Chiaki is here for the same reason as Akane. I’ve shipped her with characters like Sonia and Ibuki before, but she really digs Hajime.

Chihiro honestly could have been anywhere in the Bi and Pan sections, but I ultimately went with Male Preference because of ships, specifically the fact that outside of the more... R18 circles of the Interwebs Chihiro tends to be shipped with guys more often than girls. Also doesn’t hurt that my OTP is Naehiro. I mean, have you seen how often Chihiro blushes around Makoto? (There’s more to it than that, as I’ve covered in the past. I’m just trying to add more fuel to the fire.)

Himiko is probably one of the few characters that isn’t here mainly because of ships. I do think she has some attachment towards Tenko, but I also get “I’m uncomfortable around her” vibes from her, and there are moments where she seems to crush on Kokichi (of all people) so that’s why she’s here. Still very much bi, though.

Hina has a crush on Makoto and has a complex around wishing she was more feminine so she can attract boys. So why isn’t she in the Straight section? ...Because Sakura, duh. And Kyoko too. And any other wlw ship you can think of that might work with Hina.

Honestly if it wasn’t for Miu I probably would have considered putting Kokichi in Gay. Again, while shipping plays a big part of my choices here, much like with Rantaro I have no qualms with putting a character in a tier that contradicts any ships I might have with that character, if those ships aren’t something I’m super invested in. This is a very important distinction, because it’s why I let ships sway my hand for so many of these even if I am also okay with going “Just because I ship this doesn’t mean I headcanon it” as I did with Rantaro. And honestly Kokichi’s ship teasing with Himiko does come off as more trollish than a sign that he’s into her, but he really gets into his back-and-forth with Miu, in my personal opinion, and he gets into it far more often with her for that matter. It’s why it’s one of my favorite ships for both of them tbh, and it’s because I like the ship so much that I just can’t ignore it for this sexuality headcanon tier list.

Maki... is here because of ships (e.g. Kaede).

Sakura... is here because of ships (e.g. Hina). ...What, you were expecting me to put a guy in the example? Remember, she has a boyfriend in canon.

Sayaka... is here because of... NOT ships, but DRAT. Yes, really. (”We really got down and dirty, Naegi-kun.”)

Sonia... strikes me as someone who swings both ways. I can’t describe exactly why I feel that way, but yes.

Bisexual (No Preference)

Celeste wants a harem of vampire boys but shipping her with Kyoko is also very popular and honestly i feel like it would fit her character. She’s got a look that says “I could get any ass I want and I know it.”

Ibuki is decked out in blues and pinks, and also I ship her fairly evenly among both boys and girls. She just screams bi icon to me, more so than any other character in the series.

Junko is either bi with no preferences or pan. She is an equal opportunity heart-and-soul-breaker and lust-for-despair machine.

There is no Mukuro in this list, but honestly I would probably put her where I put Junko anyway.

Kaede... is here because of ships (e.g. Miu, Maki)

Honestly I had no idea where to put Kirumi, so I just randomly chose one that I wouldn’t regret later if I ever put more thought into who I shipped her with.

I’m pretty sure Nagito being bisexual has some degree of canon attached to it??? I think??? I’m not entirely sure tbh, but fuck it. I’m doing this for fun anyway, so this doesn’t really matter.

Shuichi, like all Danganronpa protags, is bi as fuck. I also find him to be more shippable with guys than the other two protags, so IMO he has no preference.

Toko might have a thing or two for pretty boys, but... Komaru, I mean, this isn’t exactly shocking, I don’t think. Probably was closeted before she met Komaru. I mean she did focus on Hina’s boobs a lot in DR1, let’s not forget.

Tsumugi, much like Kirumi, is here because I haven’t put much thought into her ships.

Bisexual (Female Preference)

Gundham has a thing with Sonia in canon, but I can see him being bi. So... yeah, ships again.

Hajime, like all Danganronpa protags, is bi as fuck. It’s just that his Chiaki and Mikan game is just too strong.

Hifumi might claim to only like 2D, but his interest in Chihiro both in human form and computer program form (and the fact that this didn’t go away after the gender reveal) places him here.

Kaito strikes me as a closeted bisexual. The kind that could start any given conversation with “I’m not gay, but...”

Kazuichi also strikes me as a closeted bisexual, only his “I’m not gay, but...” is rooted more in dumbass than it is in systematic homophobia.

Korekiyo... is here because of ships (e.g. Rantaro).

Kyoko is bi as fuck, and I can see her having a preference towards girls in particular. She gets shipped with girls a lot (e.g. Celeste, Hina, Yui, and even Junko and Mukuro), and when she is shipped with boys it’s usually just pretty boys (e.g. Makoto, Byakuya, Ryota, Shuichi, and, depending on your interpretation, Chihiro). Also note that aside from Makoto and maybe Byakuya, Kyoko’s girl ships are far more popular than her boy ships. Just something I’ve noticed over the years.

Leon... is here because of ships (e.g. Chihiro).

Mahiru is here because I’m pretty sure she has a thing for Hajime in her FTEs, but obviously she tends to get shipped with girls more often (especially Hiyoko), and I agree.

Makoto, like all Danganronpa protags, is bi as fuck. It’s just that his Kyoko, Hina, Sayaka, and Mukuro game is just too strong.

Mikan may be interested in Hajime somewhat, but her obsession with Junko cannot be ignored, no matter how much some of you may want to.

Mondo is another character that strikes me as a closeted bisexual. He is said to strike out all the time with girls, so I do think he’s attracted to women. And I do get some vibes that he’s attracted to Chihiro pre-reveal. And if circumstances had been different, I imagine he probably still would have been post-reveal. But obviously it’s his bond with Taka that I feel cements his sexuality in, at the very least, an mlm category.

Tenko... is here NOT because of ships, but because I’m pretty sure she’s at least sort of interested in Shuichi because of some canon thing... and also I don’t want to put her in Lesbian just because it feels like I’d be stereotyping the Lesbian category if I do that. If we were to compare her to the character that I did put in Lesbian, Hiyoko doesn’t treat people like shit because they’re men, she’s an equal-opportunity asshole. Still not the best representation for lesbians by a long shot, but at least Hiyoko doesn’t follow the stereotype of a man-hating lesbian. She’s just like that, and that’s okay. But putting Tenko there, especially if she’s shown some degree of interest in a male character at some point in the game, just rubs me the wrong way personally, because it would feel like I’m ignoring canon just to stereotype her. But that’s just a personal hang up of mine. No disrespect intended toward anyone who genuinely feels that Tenko is a lesbian. Maybe you see something there that I don’t, and that’s perfectly fine.

Pansexual

I don’t remember exactly how her FTEs went, so I’m not going to get into that, but Angie just comes off as pan to me, like gender doesn’t fit into the equation at all for her.

Gonta I can see as either pan or ace. I feel like he wouldn’t care about gender, and honestly the only reason I decided to put him in Pan rather than Ace is because of that scene with Miu.

Imposter is not only pan, they are currently OT3ing it up with Ibuki and Ryota as we speak, and that’s a fact.

Keebo... is mostly here because of ships. A lot of ships, actually. Mostly male ships (Kokichi, Shuichi, Kazuichi, and, depending on your interpretation, Chihiro) but there’s also Miu to consider. And the Miu game is SO strong that I put him in Pan instead of, say, Male Preference.

Just gonna lump them together because I have the same thing to say about both of them: Miu and Teruteru would **** anything that walks. What did I censor? Well, I’m doing the Nier: Automata thing, so you can put whatever you want in there and trust me, it would probably fit, for better or for worse.

Ace

I know this is an unpopular opinion, because Naegami, but I just don’t think Byakuya is interested in anyone, at least not in that way. He might be fascinated with how common people live, because it’s so foreign to him, but that’s about it.

Straight

Even though I do ship Fuyuhiko with some of the boys, his Peko game is so strong that honestly I can’t see him actually dating anyone aside from Peko outside of some very niche fanfiction.

Honestly, Hiro was another one that I was just like “I have no idea what to do with you.” I think maybe his team up with Kanon made me eventually choose to put him in Straight? I don’t remember. I clearly didn’t put much thought into Hiro.

I really only ship Nekomaru with Akane, so that’s why he’s here. I’m sure if I dive deep enough into my psyche I can pull an mlm ship with Nekomaru in it out of my ass, but like Rantaro that wouldn’t be significant enough to change anything.

Peko is in the same boat as Fuyuhiko. I have shipped her with girls before, but her Fuyuhiko game is just too strong.

Ryoma had a girlfriend once, and as far as I can remember he didn’t really seem interested in anybody in the game, so that’s all I have to go off of for him.

-----

So there you have it. Explanations for literally all of them! Explanations that were definitely not pulled out of my ass as I was typing them, nope, certainly not. Definitely won’t be tagging all of them, but I may tag the ones with the longest entries. And like all the tier lists I’ve done, this was just for fun and honestly any opinion I have for any of these characters could change at a moment’s notice because my brain is fickle like that. Tried my best to make sure that every tier had at least one character in it, but I did so without trying to force characters in places that I personally did not believe they should go. I hope you all enjoyed my dive into this area of fandom that I rarely dive into (the LGBT headcanons, not the ships, obviously). It was a lot of fun, and hopefully it will stay fun and not result in angry anons blasting me for my opinions. I am grateful that this never seems to happen to me, but I’ve seen it happen to others and I know what Tumblr is capable of at its worst. These are just headcanons and a matter of personal opinion, and if you disagree with them, that’s perfectly okay. Your feelings and opinions are also valid.

[boltwrites]

Misfits - Chapter 1

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous)  Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn

Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.

read it on ao3 | or read more below

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were nervous about your new assignment.

“Nervous” wasn’t a trait most people used to describe you. No, your former lifestyle dictated that you weren’t really allowed the luxury of nervousness – force sensitives left to fend for themselves, especially those expelled from the Order, had to grow a thick skin in order to survive. Force sensitives were valuable and much sought after, and not just by the Sith. From the day you had left the Order, it had been up to you to survive, to take care of yourself, and to make your own way in the universe.

But you were still a person – a sentient being that craved some sense of normalcy and security. And you had found that, for a fleeting moment, with the 501st. You hadn’t been thrilled with the arrangement – getting roped into a war that you wanted nothing to do with wasn’t exactly on your agenda the night you were approached by ghosts from your past and led to the Temple you had left behind so many years ago.

The Jedi had created a new program, meant to bolster their numbers in the face of the growing Sith. To create an alliance with unaligned force sensitives: the Jedi would provide protection and a generous stipend for the work provided, and the force sensitives would fight alongside the present Jedi. You hadn’t really been a huge fan of the idea, for multiple reasons… but you had been presented an offer that which you could not refuse. So you didn’t.

And it had been stable, for a bit. You hated to admit that you had grown to enjoy the company of the 501st, but you had. Your General, Anakin, was understanding, and not so uptight. He was so unlike the Knights you knew when you had been present at the Temple – he was reckless, and fearless, and he followed his own heart instead of the code. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t mind his command; you knew that he wasn’t so swayed by Council politics and related trivialities, and that he cared about his men first and foremost. You had grown fond of him, even discussing your personal philosophy regarding the force with him on a few occasions, and even sparring with his padawan, Ahsoka, on several occasions. A teenager holding a higher title than you was alien, but in the relaxed nature of the 501st, you had hardly noticed it.

But, as much as you enjoyed the company of the Jedi, perhaps the person you would miss the most was Rex. Holding the same rank didn’t seem to phase the clone Captain, as Rex had been more than happy to show you the ropes and introduce you to the men. He accepted you as his equal immediately, and you had been fast friends, bonding over your similar roles in the battle and joking about the most trivial shit that left you on the floor in stitches, Rex hunched over wheezing at perhaps the worst pun you had ever constructed. He had introduced you to the other members of the 501st, saved your ass on multiple occasions, and in turn, you had confided in him about how out of place you felt within the military structure afforded you.

“I don’t fit in,” you had rambled, waving your hands emphatically after one too many drinks at 79’s. “I mean – I’m a Captain, right? Like you. But I’m not a clone, obviously.” You laughed, feeling stupid for even pointing it out. “I mean, I know there must be more out there like me – force sensitives the Jedi picked out of thin air, coerced into joining this war…”

You had rolled your eyes, and Rex had raised an eyebrow. In turn, you had waved him off, nowhere near finished your speech.

“But – the point I’m trying to make – is that it’s not like I’m fighting alongside people that are like me. Even when we work alongside the 212th or some other battalion, I think I’ve only seen one other non-Jedi force sensitive.”

“And it’s worse, you know? You guys – the men – they all call me Jedi. Because honestly, what else do you know? What do you know besides Jedi and Sith? There’s nothing really to call a person like me – but calling me Jedi isn’t right, because then I go up to Anakin or Ahsoka, and yeah, they’re nice to me, but they don’t treat me the same as other Jedi. I’m not one of them. And I’m not one of you. So where the hell do I fit in this?”

Rex hadn’t had an answer for you, and you sure as fuck didn’t know.

Maybe that’s why you were assigned to Clone Force 99.

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

“Have you worked with these guys before?” you asked, fiddling with your bag as you waited in the hangar on Coruscant. Rex stood beside you, hand on his hip as he surveyed the sky above you, no doubt waiting for your transport.

“Once. You remember when you were off on that stealth mission with Hondo?”

“Ugh, I wish I could forget.”

Rex chuckled, shaking his head at your sarcasm. “I first met them then. Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he raised both back at you, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Care to elaborate as to why, you bastard?”

Rex grinned wider, shaking his head and turning his eyes to the sky once more.

“They look at the world differently. Like you do.”

You hadn’t expected that, and you stood in shock, watching Rex as he searched for the ship that would take you from him. You thought, for just a moment, you saw a tinge of sadness in his eyes, that a sliver of grief passed over you both in the force at the thought of your parting. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a ship started to descend, the roar deafening anything you might have wanted to say.

The ship landed, powering down its thrusters, and your heart flipped involuntarily. You didn’t want to be nervous – you really didn’t. You had come to know clones over the time you had spent in the GAR – close to a standard year, at this point. You knew that in order to earn their trust, you couldn’t appear afraid, or out of place. You had to act as if you belonged, as if you were already their friend, in order to actually become their friend. It was surprisingly similar to working with scoundrels in the Outer Rim – faking it until you made it.

So, you squared your shoulders and tried to seem confident, and Rex’s subtle smile and firm nod only spurred you on as he stepped to your side, prepared to introduce you to the men you would be working with for at least the new few missions.

The hatch hissed at the airlock released, the ramp lowering so that the crew could disembark.

You knew little about Clone Force 99. Your reassignment had been swift, ordered straight from the top – above even the Jedi, from the Senate itself. According to your official order, Clone Force 99, a special operations unit, was in need of a force sensitive for several missions. They didn’t operate under a Jedi General, and seeing as they were a spec ops unit, the Jedi couldn’t waste any of their precious men on such a small squad. You, however, as an unassociated force-sensitive, were ripe for the picking, and considering that you had previously been assigned to the 501st, a battalion that already operated under a Jedi Knight and Padawan, you had been the obvious choice for the job.

So, you knew that they were a special unit and that they didn’t work with Jedi on the regular. Great. That was such a detailed summary of how they operated. You were so prepared.

Well, you considered. You had gone into battle previously with even less information. It had been even worse when you were operating in the Outer Rim. It could be worse.

You tried to remain optimistic as the steam cleared from the change in pressure and temperature, the hatch hissing as the troopers disembarked. You stood transfixed as they did, and as each appeared, your eyebrows scrunched further together.

You had been told this was a clone force. As in, a clone-based unit. No Jedi, and obviously no nat borns, as beside the Jedi and force sensitives, they were restricted to the Navy, not the GAR. But these men…

It was strange. They looked so different – one large, one tall and slender, another with long hair and broad shoulders. But their biorhythms in the Force were all so similar. The force sang around them like it did with other clones – there was a distinct taste of battle to them, of shared battles, countless. Their signatures sang together, like the rest of the clones’ did, as they had grown and battled together, as they had trusted one another from the day they all met on Kamino. It spoke of a deep camaraderie that was never present among nat borns, that was specific to clones and them alone, and it dazzled you.

“Captain Rex. Good to see you.”

You blinked, snapping yourself out of your analysis of the force, only to see the clone with the longer hair greet Rex with a firm grip to the forearm. As he drew closer, you started to notice the resemblance – the same skin tone, the curve of his nose, the color of his eyes – and it was confirmed through your eyes as well that this man was, indeed, a clone.

“Good to see you too, Sergeant,” Rex replied with a nod, stepping back to gesture to you. You straightened up, standing formally to address the man you would be working with from now on. You weren’t one for formalities, but you did want to make a good impression with him. Some clones were not as openminded as Rex, and they tended to be sticklers for rules and orders, offended by the slightest deviation. Until you knew the Sergeant’s preferences, it would pay to be formal.

“This is Captain Andar. She’s the force-sensitive that’s been assigned to your unit.”

You offered Rex a small smile – he knew how much you valued the term “force sensitive” and how you wished to remain distinct from the Jedi, so you were grateful that he remembered your preference.

The Sergeant frowned, looking from you to Rex and back again, and you felt anxiety coil in your stomach. The downward tilt of his lip and his disappointment in the force compounded, leaving you feeling uneasy.

“We requested General Skywalker.”

Oh, there it was. They had expected a Jedi. Not you, some half-baked, half-trained force sensitive who wasn’t even allowed to hold a title higher than Captain. You should be used to it, at this point, the disdain and the dismissal. But it still hurt you a bit more than it should have, when you were reminded that you were only second best.

“Hunter, we’re stretched thin as it is,” Rex sighed, shaking his head a little. “I did submit your request, but this came from the top. The Senate has disallowed the allocation of the Jedi anywhere other than the front lines. We have a severe shortage of Generals – Commanders, even – but I assure you, Captain Andar is more than capable. She’s one of the best men I know.”

You smiled at Rex, a soft thanks for his kind words, even as Sergeant – Hunter, was it? – looked you up and down.

“So, you’re a force sensitive,” he addressed you. You nodded, trying to get a read on him. His large skull tattoo, which took up the majority of the left side of his face, drew your attention. Most clones turned to tattoos in order to assert their individuality – you had actually seen a few of your comrades getting their tattoos, as it was a communal activity among them. You laughed along with Rex as you watched shinies cringe at their first ink, and you even has a few pieces yourself, hidden below your clothing.

But somehow, Hunter’s skull seemed different. There was a lot about clone culture you still didn’t fully understand, and this may just be a part of it. His tattoo, however, wasn’t quite as intriguing as his hair – long and free-flowing, not tied back besides his headband. There were a few long-haired clones in the 501st, but they always kept their hair tied up neatly, either in a tight bun or a ponytail. Hunter’s was clearly too short for either of those options, and it made him look rugged. You wondered what he was trying to convey with this combination of identifying markers. Clones used everything they had to assert their individuality – to designate themselves as them, to emphasize their personality, role in the military, and who they wanted to be. What did Hunter’s want to present to you with his appearance, you wondered.

But, you couldn’t just stare at the man all day – for fuck’s sake, he had just asked you a question and you’d already spent a good half a second staring at him instead of answering.

“Yes – I possess the same abilities in the force as a Jedi such as General Skywalker or Commander Tano –“ you frowned a little. You were probably closer in skill to Ahsoka, despite being far older. That tends to happen when you’re expelled from the order at fifteen and spend more time trying to simply stay alive rather than train. “- I am more than capable of completing missions where force-related skill is necessary. And, I don’t have to answer to the Council.”

You added the last part on the end with a little chuckle, because Anakin had often asked for your assistance specifically because of that fact – the Jedi Council knew that it was a risk allowing you and the other unaffiliated force sensitives into the GAR, and it was for this exact reason. You had made it work with the 501st, though, and you wondered if this new unit would find that loophole as useful as Anakin had.

Judging by the raised eyebrow, Hunter was mildly impressed by at least something you said.

“Oh, she’ll fit right in, then,” Hunter seemed to soften, just a touch? As if understanding something you weren’t yet privy to as he flashed Rex a grin. Rex smirked back, patting you on the shoulder.

“Told you,” he mumbled to you, and you rolled your eyes at him. Well, at the very least, the Bad Batch didn’t hate you.

Yet.

[junova]

↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before,  I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.