#if performance can vary that much even with everything else identical

[veiledinviolet]

low-level optimization is wild, i observed a consistent 25% performance difference between two functions that, in the relevant part, were identical to the machine instruction. i eventually managed to identify the cause as the order in which the functions are defined and therefore their offset in the binary, though i have no idea why this would have such a large impact. maybe something to do with caches?

[paragonrobits]

for a while I've been struggling real hard to convey what exactly I want in coming up with original species that contain everything I like about SU Gems and Transformers in general without just copy pasting them so here's the stuff I specifically want with Gems in particular:

The way projection bodies work and how they have massive shapeshifting capability. This is of the most fun parts of Gems; arguably, its the most iconic aspect of them and certainly the bit that sticks out the most. In fact I'd even argue their shapeshifting is the most fun aspect that really invokes the most potential. When I think about Gem OCs or tihngs based on them, the way gems can transform themselves and modify their projections based on needs or aesthetics is by FAR the single most relevant bit; everything else is honestly secondary, to the point that making it work easier is the core part of it. So something that is functionally a solid magic mass that can be modified at will is the key part here. (So the same thing can be accomplished if they're actually made of a quasi-organic smart material mesh, or some kind of programmable matter. What matters is the result!!)

The flip side to this is that them being living gemstones is actually secondary, and honestly not particularly relevant. For example, making them elementals of living stone or gem is completely irrelevant to what I want them to be; its more important that their bodies can transform instead of them being made of living minerals.

Instead, what's more important is that they have something akin to the heart drive; that is, the core of their being or their central processor that can be removed or inserted into other objects to varying results, such as them then able to use that device as a new body or merge with its intelligences in some way. This is VERY important; a key aspect of what makes Gems so fascinating to me is that they are alien robots created for specific purposes and can choose to be defined by that purpose or not. What matters here is that they have a drive or core that is their only real organ, and that they're PROBABLY artificial in nature. At the very least, they're created to perform functions, though they might not have outright castes as canon Gems do.

Fusion as an inherent capability? Honestly this is negotiable. Fusion in various ways is a common magical technique in my setting, so this doesn't have to be something inherent to them. It CAN be, if a good idea comes up (for example, their drives are naturally able to link together with other ones, forming a gestalt, and studying this leads to the fusion technique for others.)

approaches to gender; I'm honestly kind of flexible about this. While I like the Gems functionally being a monogendered species in canon, I'm honestly somewhat indifferent to that being the case here. Given the plasticity of their bodies, it might work just fine to have them take on gender identities based on the attitudes of other cultures that resonate with them.

Connection to robot kindred? That last point is also how I imagine Transformers work. So this begs a question; the heart drive is VERY similar to the Spark of Transformers. So should these be different species or the same sort of being? That perhaps they can be plugged into a exoskeleton robot frame and that's thier new body, with advantages and disadvantages related to it? Could someone be modifed to become an entity similar to these beings, or instead of being a species, in general other people are modified to become like these beings, something like Age of Sigmar's Stormcast Eternals?

The weapon summoning thing. Yeah I actually don't care much about this, apart from potentially being a shapeshifting application. That could instead by a common magical technique. In this case, those weapons aren't a part of their bodies, but an actual weapon made and modified and then attuned to their bodies so they can summon it at will, and so can anyone else who cares to try.

[officialpenisenvy]

What do you think gay men are attracted to in men that they can’t be attracted to in women?

It can’t be anything about femininity or masculinity obviously. That’s both sexist, and cultural so can’t be what drives men-only attraction.

It can’t be anything about stated identity because someone could lie just as easily as they could tell the truth in such a statement, and it makes no sense because homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.

Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait men have that women can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.

Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?

- [ ]

this is an extremely loaded question aimed at getting me to admit something about the role of biological sex in sexual attraction. but i will take you in good faith and try to answer your question (under the cut, since the horrid way you formatted this ask makes it long enough already) because i have some time to waste on this sunday morning.

firstly, i have never believed and never will believe sexuality to be an innate attraction or orientation: i don't think anyone is born heterosexual or homosexual, but i also don't believe everyone is born bisexual and gradually loses attraction to one gender over another. i don't see the point in doing sexuality metaphysics, i find it to be a pointless exercise in respectability at best and a means for systematic eradication at worst: if i say we're not born gay a homophobe can then say "stop being gay/pray the gay away", if i say we are born gay a homophobe can then say "let's find the gene that causes homosexuality and eradicate it". simply put, i don't think the question of why someone is homosexual (or bisexual or heterosexual, for that matter) is ever worth entertaining, because it does nothing to further the liberation of the gay people that exist here and now, and it only gives ammunition to those who want to stop the spread and existence of gay people altogether.

i believe sexuality to be socially constructed, much like gender and much like everything else in our lived reality: every single interaction we have in our lives with other people shapes us irrevocably, from our parents to our teachers and classmates to the rude cashier at the store to the creepy guy following us down the street to our potential sexual prospects, and the way all those elements interweave in the rich and ever-changing tapestry of our lives is ultimately what creates our personhood, included in which is our sexuality and our gender. we use labels to simplify and streamline and help communicate to others our complex sexual and romantic preferences, sacrificing some nuance in the process: if i say i am a lesbian it could mean anything from "i have never thought about men sexually a day in my life" to "i understand and even sometimes feel attraction to men but choose not to act on it because i only want to date women", but the ultimate message that comes across is the unavailability to men and availability to women, which is what is important to the lesbian-identifying speaker (the same goes for gay men, bisexuals and heterosexuals, but i can obviously give more accurate examples as far as the lesbian experience is concerned).

you mention the animal kingdom, which is interesting: sexual behaviour of males on males and females on females is common or at least observed in many animal species, but this is not homosexuality or bisexuality, because the animals themselves don't put any sort of label to it, they simply enact their sexual instincts in whichever way they see fit (the nuances of this obviously vary from species to species, there are animals that mate with hundreds of their kind and animals that only mate with one for their whole life). i was going to have a whole section here going into the supposed differences between humans and animals and explaining why homosexuality is a human prerogative as far as we know, but i don't think this is all that relevant: ultimately, humans are the only ones who have, through complex historical and social developments, come up with words to describe sexual and romantic categories, and for whom these categories matter in the context of systematic oppression and liberation. is the lion who wants to roll around in the savannah grass with another lion instead of a lioness a homosexual? no, because there is no language for homosexuality in lion society, and there is no hierarchy systematically depriving lions who don't like lionesses of their rights, or vice versa.

going back to your original question of what about the same gender attracts a homosexual that is not found in the other gender: it is very much a combination of factors, including the ones you dismissed as "impossible", so i am going to try to walk you through it. i believe everyone has an aesthetic judgement of other people, and that includes immediate aesthetic attraction: i can see someone who i read as a beautiful man or someone i read as an ugly woman, and this is all to do with my aesthetic tastes and very little to do with my sexual attraction to men or women. the attraction comes into play then, when i consider the whole of a person's demeanour: a woman i may find very beautiful might be extremely feminine or extremely masculine, and that will not attract me because i am not really attracted to hyperfeminine or hypermasculine women; a woman i don't find beautiful may have a gender presentation i resonate with and find attractive, and that will make me attracted to her.

obviously, though, my immediate read of a situation isn't always accurate: i might see a butch woman i find very attractive and then find out she's actually a man (maybe he's trans, very often he's just a cis guy with facial traits i instinctively read as female), and while i will still find him very aesthetically beautiful i am aware that he is off my plate and as such i am no longer attracted to him or i don't consider him a potential sexual partner anymore; vice versa, if i see a very beautiful man i am not attracted to and then find out he's actually a woman (maybe she's trans, maybe she's a cis woman with facial features i instinctively read as male), it doesn't mean i am instantly attracted to her, but she is now suddenly on my plate, so i am more likely to develop an attraction to her or consider her a potential sexual partner.

of course, we can't deny the presence of biological sex in this context: some people are exclusively attracted to cis male bodies, and some only to cis female bodies (this is a generalization of course, as no two cis bodies look the same, but it is a generalization that some people do make and so it is important to acknowledge it). i believe this is a preference worth unpacking and interrogating, because it is a product of our society just like every other part of our identity, and our society is a transphobic one: am i organically repulsed by penises or vulvas or breasts or flat chests, or is this a repulsion i feel towards a perceived mismatch between sex and gender that society has told me shouldn't exist? to be clear, this isn't just about transgenderism, but it applies to many preferences, especially the ones that reflect a social disparity: attraction to whiteness or thinness, to name two off the top of my head, need to be similarly deconstructed, which doesn't mean giving up any and all preferences one might have, but simply understanding what implicit biases lie below what may seem to us as a harmless preference. and of course, it goes without saying that our sexual preferences, however harmless or harmful, shouldn't impact other people's right to exist in their bodies as they best see fit, nor should they impact the level of respect we show others.

ultimately, it is important to remember that everything in us is dictated by the world we live in: i currently navigate the world as a homosexual woman, for whom attraction to other homosexual women is very important. i don't wholly feel comfortable in my occupying the category of woman: i know that i can transition and start navigating the world as a heterosexual man, but that would remove homosexual women from my potential sexual partners and introduce heterosexual women, and this would cause me a lot of discomfort, so i choose to shoulder the lesser discomfort of being a homosexual woman as opposed to the major discomfort of being a heterosexual man. sociosexual labels allow me to simplify and simulate a process of interaction with the world in a manner other than what i am used to experiencing: within my private life i don't have to be a woman or a man or any social category for that matter, but in a social context where such labels are important if not required i try to strike a balance of the things that will make me most comfortable interacting with others or that will bring me closest to my inner self-perception, a balance that is eternally in flux and in change as the way i move through the world evolves.

[messengerhermes]

So I wrote this as an agreement reblog on a post going around about the ways events branding themselves as "women and nonbinary folks" only is a great way gender essentialists show their ass and shove half of nonbinaries into the "woman-lite" lane and the other half into "you better jump this hurdle in 6-inch heels if you want to be treated with basic human decency. and not called a faker." It got really long. So now it's its own post because I'm not a monster about to word vomit on some innocent human's post. So here we go: Y'all, I have known and loved many nonbinary folks who were read by the world as cis men and struggled to be open about being nonbinary even in queer spaces due to social expectations about gender performance.

It sucks ass and when spaces do the "women and nonbinary folks" thing, it shows that you don't think of nonbinary folks as separating from the gender binary--you think of us as the Light version of whatever our forcibly assigned birth sex's corresponding gender is.

And the thing that suck on top of all this is, it forces nonbinary folks to hold a really firm line centered on stripping away our assigned genders at birth, lest the world shove us right back into the binary gender buckets we were assigned to or prod us to leap into the other bucket to prove our transness/gender variance.

And frankly, I hate this as a nonbinary person, because it eliminates the nuances of nonbinary experience, which makes navigating the world that much more irritating and at times dangerous.

I was assigned female at birth and raised as a girl until I was 19 and figured my shit out. I could have the exact same definition of my gender as another nonbinary person. We could have all the exact same identity markers in everything else too: age, geolocation, class, race, body type, disabilities, sexual orientation, et al. Except. They were assigned male at birth and raised as a boy until they were 19 and figured their shit out.

And that will shape the confusion, trauma, and social journey they experience as a nonbinary person in a fundamentally different way than how my experiences being dumped in the girlbox shaped mine.

Gender conditioning is horrifyingly rigid and intense, and there are different rules depending on which gender box you were dropped in, and the rules in those gender boxes vary depending on whether your culture was colonized by white western imperialism or not, where you're living, and all the other aforementioned identity categories you have. This shit is messy and deep and wild and realizing that you are nonbinary, in whatever flavor of that word is your truth does not instantaneously erase decades of socialization and all the nasty baggage that can come with it.

But nonbinary people can't talk about that shit, because then it gets wielded against those of us deigned too close to being men, or simply just forever tainted because once, somewhere at some point in their life, they were hinged to the concept of manhood without their consent. This once again drives folks who are amab (or assumed amab at birth, gatekeepers are frankly terrible at actually guessing this accurately) to hyper perform whatever the latest social cues for Proper Nonbinariness are to protect themselves. Or it just drives folks completely away from community and deep into the closet because they feel like they will never be accepted.

Likewise, those of us assumed to have crawled out of the girlbox are treated as "The Other Good Gender uwu" which is a ghoulish mix gender essentialism and infantilization. Or we hyper perform the latest social cues for Proper Nonbinariness to avoid people huffing and rolling their eyes when we point out them screwing up our pronouns because clearly we are doing this for some kind of Social Attention or are just pretending because it's cool and trendy to be "they/them," "Ze/Hir," "What do you mean there are other nonbinary pronouns? Are you just making up words now?? What the fuck is 'ey/em, are you Popeye?"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, bringing it back now y'all.

TLDR: Nonbinary folks benefit greatly from getting to publicly talk about the ways our birth-assigned genders shaped our initial worldviews, because even as a harmful environment hurts us we will still pick up values and beliefs from that environment because that's how the fucking soup works, and how realizing our gender opened up the opportunities to unlearn the gendered lenses we're trained to understand the world through. Frankly, I think we could do a fucking lot for society if we could share these experiences without gender essentialists latching onto whatever we say and warping it to suit their own purposes.

[aro-culture-is]

intro and rules

hi! this is a submission based blog centered around aromanticism as both a specific identity and an umbrella of identities. due to chronic illnesses, we post somewhat inconsistently, and would recommend not sending urgent questions our way. That said, you can send questions about being aro, though we would like to suggest checking out our tags #question (for general questions), #am-i-aro (for questions about if the asker is aromantic), and #advice (for aro-focused advice) first. Please be patient if you would like an individualized response to a situation.

submissions can be silly or serious. aromantic people are not a monolith, and your mileage may vary for each and every submission - know that even if you don't relate to many posts about your identity, that's okay. we don't relate to a lot of this either.

we will probably block you if you're rude about how "everyone can experience this, not just aros!" there are no "purely" aro experiences, and we hate to tell you, but we'd rather not just post increasingly niche definitions of aromanticism.

this is open for any aro-spec people (including questioning folks)! if you don’t see much for your particular aro identity here, feel free to send more :)

for those interested in a playlist of the submitted "music recs", @felixisaprince has made one here for Spotify.

Submission Rules - if you do not follow these, your submission will be deleted. If you submit via an account, I will attempt to contact you for re-submission.

Submit via the ask box or submit tab. Anonymous and user submissions are allowed. If you'd like to modify / not submit it, please dm @just-aro rather than sending a second ask that will not be seen in time.

Begin each submission with the phrase “aro culture is”, or something more specific like disabled aro culture, demiro culture, or whatever you’d like.

No discourse - We do this for fun, and that isn’t fun. Judging by our inbox, we need to explicitly state that shipping discourse is included in this statement. That said, we are radically inclusive. We are stronger together, and it's always worth listening to each other.

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Please don't send replies to other submissions (ie, "aro culture is hating xyz thing", and sending "actually I like xyz thing"). Reblog the post with your addition if you care that much about it, please.

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Use of the terms “opposite gender/sex” will result in deletion of the submission. If needed, “other binary gender” or things like that can be used. You can also say that people have expectations of boys and girls, for example. Fight the genderqueer/agender mods by telling us our opposite genders if you think this is so awful, and listen to intersex folks as well.

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Thank you :)

last edit: 4/6/25. added rules about venty stuff.

[tomatograter]

What would you say is the very core of dirkjake? I struggle to put it into words beyond dirk being afraid jake will get tired of him

Ok this is a fun one hang on, strap in,

Much like vrisrezi, and in fact a reoccurring theme throughout HS as a work in full -represented in varying levels of relevance to its cast of core characters- dirkjake is about the masks we willingly fashion ourselves after to starve off insecurity. Everything else is a permutation of that.

But also akin to vrisrezi, their interpersonal relationships and character arcs are heavily about how said performances can be turned into destructive weapons that hinder the development of one's growth and personal identity, rippling through friend groups and plot events. That's a lot of words. So let's break it down like this: 

Vriska's Mindfang performance is a defense mechanism created to strengthen her resolve when dealing with isolation and an abysmal monster as a mother, and serves to advance the plot, but is highly harmful to vriska and those around her. (Of note - Vriska doesn't see herself as a villain, it is incredibly important that she's a HERO, just a highly polarizing and problematic one.)

Terezi's Legislacerator ((space cop)) performance is an elaborate persona created to make sense of an antagonistic and temperamental environment, and seemingly dole out punishments that would ensure things continue to function as they should, even to terezi's personal detriment. Vriska is far from the first troll or human terezi has killed, but it's the one that breaks the scale, because terezi knows she's just another victim of the system.

Neither of the above make up the entirety of vriska OR terezi as characters, simply the masks they've chosen to slot themselves into a narrative that will not stop for them, or anybody else for that matter, to have time to 'figure themselves out' before steamrolling them. Vriska and terezi's relationship relies in the bond they formed through the cracks on their masks, to a point in which hopefully they can help eachother to get rid of them.

When talking about dirkjake, instead of focusing on the alternian or human society we have the introduction of dystopic hyper isolated homescenarios that will define their viewpoints as Characters in this story. If vrisrezi is cops-and-robbers, dirkjake is princesses and dragons. Oh yeah, they're both simplistic morality plays.

It is precisely how set apart they are from everyone else but immediate danger (may it be rogue lusii naturae or imperial drones) that molds them into people who crave connection but are too cocooned inside their own walls to let anybody through, even those they care for. Taking the brunt of responsibility for a Legacy and attaining a greater future plays a key role for most of the alphas, but in dirk and jake's case this is demonstrated through the necessity for brash, masculine heroism and the suppression of fragility or sentimentality. Before the story has a chance to admonish them for stepping out of line, they'll do it to themselves out of habit.

The situation gets a little worse when the roles they've picked to enact (invariably, The Hero!) don't match with the roles the story wants them to play.

Jake is the archetypal swooning and good for nothing princess who's there to look pretty and provide motivation To others, modernized into the cool action girl trope we've known to find and despise in every other movie, those who often say 4 lines about how cool and smart they are or how they were raised by their older brothers with big guns and then spend the rest of their screentime in varying states of distress, undress, or concerning unconsciousness. Sometimes all three!!!!! 

It is because of this lack of agency that jake stresses his role as a charming gallivanting and STUPID action hero, thereby providing a excuse for his lack of control over his own life, and makes stumbling into situations ass-first look charming. He wants his friends to be impressed with him, and he'll lie to achieve that effect, because he wants to be liked and to be taken seriously. The problem is that he's all too aware of how he's been set up, and he vehemently rejects it.

Dirk is the dragon. Yup. Function? To be slayed. Duty? To make your life a nightmare in just about every possible way, giving the eventual story payoff a grander climax. Inadvertently, accidentally, well-intentionally, and yet sometimes on purpose, dirk strider ends up in the antagonist role. His awareness of the fact and penance for its weight is such he'll preemptively take the blame for things that aren't even his fault, like a loser. While jake eventually has to deal with how he ends up breaking things on accident to provide a backdrop motivation for others, dirk is stuck in a self-fulfilling loop of having mostly negative input in everyone's lives, including (if not specially) his own.

Dirk's hyper-investment in playing the Knight, like his brother before him, and ensuring his input on everyone's stories remains constructive and ever-helpful even if he doesn't know what the FUCK he's talking about or what is happening 99,9% of the time is a byproduct of multiple timelines spent in less glorious ways.

The core of dirkjake, then, is how they're simultaneously the one person who's the closest to seeing the other for what they truly are, but ashamed of their own shortcomings, they do their best to advance the fantasy version instead. To know and value a loved one is to become aware of your own lies, and to acknowledge the performance panic that comes with it. Ye olde jingle of "Self-recognition through the eyes of the other" and "the pants-soiling fear that actually you're still a faker and you will never be enough", weaved up and remixed. Their problem is that Princesses don't marry Dragons, and in a realistic setting neither do Princes and Knights for that matter, they're too busy with- doing the other stuff!!!!! The stuff that should be done! Even if they wanted to! 

Which actually goes right back to my claim that dirkjake is exactly like Shrek, The Movie, And This Is Why.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

The Auction

Beth had put on red wine lipstick, worn a dress that hugged her frame and made the previous day both wash day and home spa time. Everything from exfoliating to oil pulling and tonight, she felt intoxicating.

People were looking at her who had never looked at her before and some who had were looking quite a bit harder. Her friends told her not to participate in this auction. Courtney had even planned on protesting it. "It's deeply problematic! To offer up women as bribery for charity?"

"There are all kinds of gender identity in this particular auction and I want to give my share to an organization that assists with rights for sex workers," Courtney didn't want to argue further, but she didn't approve and she didn't want Beth to be a part of this. Beth was, though. Her friends showed up to support her.

Reading off Beth's official accomplishments, interests and goals, she had to admit, she sounded excellent. Anybody might want to have an evening with her. Add to it that she was breathtaking and she jokingly thought, "I might find my husband tonight."

Courtney was there for food and drinks. Yolanda came with a shirt that read, "Bet on Beth!" Which... Beth had explained that it wasn't actually betting, it was an auction, but after going back and forth a little bit, Yolanda was able to rationalize how this was gambling and bet applied... She hadn't become class president on her pretty face. Rick was.. present.

He was the only one dressed for the occasion, having taken Beth's passion about the event to heart... But every time someone made a bid, he clenched his fists tighter. He'd saved up money for this, just in case some villainous sort wanted a date with her. He'd worked pretty hard to gather the amount that he had, and hadn't said a word to the girls about it.

The amount was elevating rapidly and he worried that soon, one or these rich jerks would surpass his ability to cover a bid, and wind up alone with her.. with her looking like that...

He called out his bid and Yolanda stared at him with a wide eyed and wide toothed smile, applauding, even though that wasn't part of this process. Courtney choked on an hors d'oeuvre, certain that both: Rick had bid way too high than the previous guy and also that she was about to die because of it.

After a bit of commotion, and Beth successfully performing the Heimlich maneuver on her, the first thing she said was, "You're only supposed to go up a little bit!"

Rick incredulously shook his head, "That's your concern?"

Beth glanced at all of her friends and then told Courtney and Yolanda, "Now is the time for me to take my bidder to the collection booth." She offered her elbow and Rick slowly took it. "What is going on?" She asked, not breaking her stride or her smile. "You do know that once you go to the booth, they'll expect that amount, right? And if they don't get it, they'll have no way of knowing who the next highest bidder was and I'll have to go out AGAIN, this time with the stigma of having been auctioned to a non buyer, and will probably not even get half of the original offers for my cause?"

"I have it," he said. "Relax."

"You HAVE it, and you chose to use it here? What about the varying degrees of stuff that you need right now, Rick? You could have simply made a small donation to the organization and let one of these people give a bigger contribution, since they're just aching to throw their money at something and call themselves philanthropist. You spend time with me alone all the time for free. I'm so confused..."

"I didn't want to see you with some other guy!" He snapped. She jumped and let go of his arm. He took a deep breath and shook his head, "You look beautiful tonight. You look perfect. More than half the people in that room couldn't take their eyes off of you. I didn't want to see you leave here with one of them."

Beth put her hands behind her back and smiled. "Rick, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying... I wanted a chance." He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

"All you had to do was ask. I've been waiting for years." She grabbed his hand, "In fact, withdraw your bid. I really don't want you to give that kind of money when there are rich people in there."

"Okay, but then, you'd be going out with another person, which is what I was trying to avoid."

"Yeah, but I'll be going out socially with them as an unavailable woman."

"You won't get as much for your cause the second time on the block, you said."

"I can make up the difference Rick. This was impulsive. I don't want you to go through with it." He didn't want her to have to make up the difference. Yolanda and Courtney were very perplexed whenever Beth made her way back to the stage. Rick was a little embarrassed to say why. He winced as the bidding began, worried about ruining the numbers by having Beth removed and replaced into the auction, but this time the bids went even higher and exceeded his maximum significantly.

But, he wasn't jealous and he wasn't angry, because she'd described herself as "unavailable" to anybody else. Rick smiled and clapped with Yolanda and Courtney this time. STILL not the process for.this event.

When Beth and her bidder stepped towards the collection booth, Rick sighed. Okay, so he was a little jealous, but more than that he was hopeful. All he'd had to do was ask.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

stars in the sk(eyes)

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Janus, Patton Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, background Intrualiceit Warnings: Language, food, like 1 line that’s maybe suggestive but also said half-jokingly Word count: 5592

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Logan has always loved stars. Virgil has always loved music. Maybe they can put those together with a little help from some friends.

Notes: Day 2 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.  Patton, Janus, and Remus are all nonbinary folks who use he/they pronouns and masculine terms in this universe (but in the flashback scene, Janus is only using they/them); Roman, Logan, and Virgil are all men who use he/him. (I know absolutely nothing about music or concerts or anything, so please don't roast me too hard for any inaccuracies, lol.)

They were only opening the concert; the real attraction was a band from out of town with a midsize following, making a stop on their tour. Not that Virgil was complaining to have landed this gig. It would be the biggest performance his band—the band he, Janus, and the twins had formed a few years ago—had given, by a lot. And that was exciting. Sure, Virgil had absolutely spent hours stressing over how big it was, but he knew how to manage his anxiety, especially when it came to performances, and the anxiety didn’t stop the excitement.

“You’re going to do wonderfully,” Logan had told him earlier that day as he’d been getting dressed, passing his fingerless leather gloves and then holding his jacket for him to slide into. He’d spoken it with a simple, unassuming confidence, as if it were a given fact. It had been more comforting than Virgil thought Logan knew.

With the memory of his husband’s words carefully nestled against his heart, and the jacket Logan had helped him paint rainbow stripes on sitting on his shoulders, Virgil found it easier to let go of the anxiety. Some lingering tension remained as he paced backstage, running through lyrics in his head and triple checking that everyone knew the schedule, but it wasn’t as bad as usual. Most of it, if he was being honest with himself, wasn’t even about the performance—it was about the surprise the band had put together, the surprise Virgil had had to bite his tongue a couple of times to keep himself from thoughtlessly mentioning it to Logan, even though the surprise had been almost entirely his own idea and the others were just helping. But he’d successfully kept the secret, and now Logan was out in the audience, and Virgil was backstage, and there would be no more chances to spoil it.

But Logan was out in the audience, and Virgil was backstage, and the final round of jitters was setting in. And when Logan wasn’t there, Virgil’s jitters took the form of pestering the hell out of everyone in the room, to make sure everything was perfect.

He checked all the instruments, giving Janus’s keyboard a once-over without touching because he knew better by this point. Remus’s drumset was already on the stage—he was drumming with his fingers on the end of the fallout table in the corner—so there was nothing to do about that. Roman was actively tuning his guitar, so Virgil left that alone too and instead checked his bass, just in case it had gotten out of tune in the last thirty seconds.

All of the instruments were fine, great, even, and Remus and Roman were undeniably being productive; Janus, who’d been on their phone in the corner, had stepped out for just a moment, probably to get a drink of water or something.

Things were in order. Which was good. Great, even. But it gave Virgil nothing to do with his restless energy.

“Are we ready?” he asked, jiggling his leg and tracing the pattern of his fishnet tights through one of the large rips in his jeans.

Roman looked up. “Yes,” he said shortly. Roman’s nerves tended to take the form of a very short temper, which didn’t mix well with Virgil’s perfectionism.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, running a hand through his dark green curls and straightening his denim jacket.

“We all know the order things go in?” Virgil followed up after a minute of tense silence.

“Mmhm,” Remus said easily. Remus, and Remus alone, somehow always managed to remain at ease and unbothered no matter what. Virgil didn’t know how they did it.

Virgil took stock of everyone’s outfits. He himself was wearing fishnet leggings that went all the way up past his waist. Over them he had ripped black skinny jean, and a black crop top splattered with white paint. On top of that, he wore his black denim jacket, which matched the ones the other three were wearing. Virgil’s had the rainbow pride flag painted on the front, all down the lapel area; the rest of the jacket was covered in patches. He checked his makeup, examining the black eyeshadow and lipstick in his phone’s camera; it looked fine. Perfect, even.

Roman was the neatest of the group, made to stand out as the lead singer. He wore the same high-heeled doc martens as the other three, but in white where theirs were all black. He had a tight white longsleeve shirt made of a shimmery material and a matching pair of white pants, and the black jacket contrasting nicely against it all. Roman’s jacket had the aromantic pride flag where Virgil had the rainbow, and the rest of his jacket was painted with red roses all at the ends of long, intricate, thorny stems. His eyeliner was sharp enough to cut, and his curly hair was piled up atop a black headband wrapped around his forehead like a crown.

Janus still wasn’t back, but he’d been on the neater end too, to counter Virgil and especially Remus’s scruffiness. Their outfit was sleek and all black save for a thin white belt around their waist. A black hat with a broad round brim framed their face like a dark halo. His jacket had nonbinary and pan stripes on the front, and thin white squiggly lines running up and down like warped pinstripes everywhere else. (Virgil knew where on the jacket one line ended in a tiny snake head, and where one trailed off into a tail, but you wouldn’t notice unless you knew to look.) They were wearing black lipstick to match Virgil, and winged eyeliner to match Roman, and contour that emphasized the sharpness of his cheekbones; definitely the heaviest makeup of the group.

Remus, sitting in the corner and making noises to themself, was a sharp contrast to his boyfriend Janus’s sleek elegance. His black jeans, splattered with white paint to match Virgil’s crop top, were ripped almost to shreds, open nearly entirely from mid-thigh down to his ankles, with only a few clinging strands of fabric keeping them anywhere in the realm of being pants. The tee they wore—black again, with his own name painted on it in large white letters—was also ripped full of holes, these ones much more deliberate; he’d slashed it carefully with an exacto knife, kneeling on the ground and focusing with their tongue stuck out slightly, until it was exactly how he wanted it and you could catch glimpses of their top surgery scars when they moved. His makeup consisted of dramatic green and black eyeshadow, and his jacket had the trans and polyamorous flags on it—he and Janus, who had nearly identical collections of pride flags between them, had split two and two which color schemes they wanted to use. The rest of Remus’s jacket consisted of a few jagged holes and some incredibly detailed paintings of green tentacles.

The instruments were fine. The costumes were fine. The makeup was fine. What else did that leave for Virgil to fret over as the final minutes ticked away?

“How about the blocking?” Virgil said. “We can go over it again if anyone—”

“I promise we know, Virge,” Roman snapped.

“Come on, kiddo, you know he’s just trying to help!” piped up Patton, Janus and Remus’s other boyfriend, who was suddenly somehow present and sitting in Janus’s lap, his pastel outfit completely out of place amidst the varying edgy styles everyone else in the room was sporting.

“How did you get back here?” Roman and Virgil demanded in unison. Virgil hadn’t even noticed Janus was back, let alone that he’d brought Patton, who was supposed to be in the audience with Logan until the performance was over.

“Oops,” Janus said, not sounding even a tiny bit remorseful as they played with Patton’s dark curls.

“Did you leave Logan alone?” Virgil demanded of Patton, hands on his hips.

“Only for a minute! He’s getting snacks, anyway,” Patton said, wrapping his arms around Janus’s neck. “We both know where our seats are, he’ll be fine.”

“You already have a partner backstage, stop being greedy,” Roman scolded Janus. “Patton, you know we need to focus right now, can you please not distract my horny bandmates until after the show?”

“You sound like Virgil, with all that worrywarting,” Remus commented, snickering.

“Take that back this instant!” Roman demanded as Virgil gave Remus double birds.

Remus only guffawed, looking incredibly amused.

“Seriously, though, uh, Patton, with all the love in my heart: get out,” Virgil said.

Patton wrinkled his nose, but pressed a warm smack of a kiss to Janus’s cheek and hopped to his feet.

“Do I get a kiss?” Remus asked, reaching his arms out hopefully.

“Makeup—” Roman began warningly.

“I haven’t got any on my mouth!” Remus said triumphantly. “Suck it, Jan.”

Janus smiled wryly, fingers rising to but not quite touching their black lipstick that Patton had avoided so carefully. “The prices I pay for beauty.”

Patton giggled, crossing to Remus, clasping both his hands, and leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

“Great, you’re very very cute together but now is not the time, Patton get out and stop distracting your boyfriends,” Roman said, shooing Patton towards the door.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “High strung much?”

“Not all of us possess your—your stupid coolheadedness powers, Remus!” Roman snapped.

Patton paused in the doorway and pointed at Roman, getting out his dad voice. “Hey. Be nice.” The finger moved to Virgil. “Be nice.” His eyes flicked to Remus, then Janus, and his voice shifted to a different tone, half flirty and half joking. “You two be good boys.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god, I said to stop being horny!” Roman shrieked, chasing a giggling Patton out of the room and down the hall. He returned moments later, Patton-less and fixing at his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy. “We had better not have any more alloromantic bullshit from any of you until after the show is over!” he announced. “Okay?” He didn’t sound quite as annoyed as before.

“Homophobia,” Remus accused teasingly.

But instead of snapping back, Roman giggled. “Oh, shut up.”

The twins began joking back and forth, Janus making the occasional amused interjection.  Evidently Patton’s intrusion into the room, although technically unhelpful, had done wonders to break the tension, and Virgil reminded himself to thank Patton later.

Virgil’s phone buzzed with a text from Logan.

Logan: Patton found me, don’t worry. Logan: How are you doing?

Virgil: hahahahahaaaa i don’t wanna think abt it

Logan began typing, then the little bubble went away; a second later, the phone began to ring, Logan’s caller ID plain to see.

“Hi, babe,” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, dear. Would you like to walk me through your plan for the performance, to reassure yourself?”

Virgil let out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, please.”

“I am listening,” Logan assured him.

Virgil took a deep breath and launched into a detailed itinerary, knowing that Logan didn’t mind if he got a little too technical in his terminology because Logan was listening for Virgil’s sake.

“And then that’s about it,” Virgil wound down, carefully leaving off the final item from his explanation. It wouldn’t do to spoil the surprise now. “Oh, looks like we’re getting ready now, gotta go.”

“I love you,” Logan said quickly. “You’re going to do a wonderful job.”

Virgil let out a short laugh. “Thanks, L. Love you too.” He hung up, set his phone down on the table, and picked up his bass.

“You ready?” Roman asked, nudging Virgil with his elbow, as the group finally headed towards the stage.

Virgil sucked in a long breath. “Yeah. I think so. Are you?”

“Oh, you know it!” Roman grinned, a spring in his step. He paused after a second and glanced back to Virgil. “Sorry for being so wound up earlier.”

“It happens.” Virgil shrugged. “Right back at you.”

Roman nodded and put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Hey. He’s going to love it. Just wait and see.”

Virgil looked away, half smiling. “I sure hope so.”

“He will, I know it!” Roman insisted as they climbed the steps onto the stage and emerged into what could practically have been the eye of a hurricane, for all the noise and light that surrounded the stage.

The sky above was fully dark; bright lights everywhere in the area contrasted against it. There was a decent crowd. The venue seemed almost full, as a matter of fact. The observation added a thrill of adrenaline to compliment the goosebumps from the chilly breeze across Virgil’s bare midriff.

Roman stepped forward and spread his arms wide right as the spotlights came up. “Hey, folks, thank you for being with us here tonight!” he said, his smile gleaming in the bright lights and his voice booming in the speakers. “We have some great hits lined up for you tonight! Let’s get it started, huh?”

Virgil waited a few seconds for the cheer of the crowd to peak. Janus began the melody on the keyboard; Virgil came in with his bass at exactly the same second Roman began to sing, and Remus picked up the beat on the drums on cue.

Virgil was quickly able to get lost in the music, all his focus on playing and providing backup vocals, leaving him with no more brain space for his anxiety. This was his favorite thing about music: its ability to keep him in the moment.

They played three songs. Two covers that always went over really well, and one song that the twins had written together about family that always left Roman just a little teary. Normally that would be their closing song.

But tonight was a little bit different.

Roman took a step back, nodding at Virgil; the pair of them traded places onstage, putting Virgil front and center.

“So,” Virgil said, the mic on his cheek picking up his words, “we were thinking we’d let you all be the first to hear our new song. Uh, I wrote this one. And normally Roman does our singing, because—well, you’ve heard his voice. But this song is kind of special. I wrote it for my husband. So. We thought I’d perform it tonight.”

As Janus began playing the melody, Virgil searched the front row of the crowd, squinting against the lights, until he found Logan, sitting next to Patton and gazing up at Virgil with shining eyes. “Lo, I love you so much, babe. More than every star you’ve ever shown me.” He took a deep breath and began to sing.

***

10 years earlier

Unknown Number: Hello. This is Janus. Logan’s roommate

Virgil: how’d u get this number?

Janus: I broke into Logan’s phone after you started dating and saved you to my contacts just in case

[read 3:43pm}

[3:46pm]

Virgil: i Virgil: wtf dude

Janus: Your boyfriend has been moping in his room all day, can you please come fix it? Janus: Roman is starting to mope too for no good reason, but he’s doing it in the living room and at this point it is starting to affect my quality of life

Virgil: yk i literally could not care less abt that part u asshole <3 Virgil: i’ll be over in 15 Virgil: is he ok?

Janus: He won’t talk to me, I don’t know what happened

Virgil: i’ll be over in 10

It was normally a 12-minute walk from the dorm Virgil was an RA in to Logan’s apartment just off campus, but Virgil could walk fast when he was anxious or alone, and in this case he was both. Even taking the time to grab a jacket, he still made it to the building in nine minutes flat.

Janus let Virgil into the apartment almost the second he knocked, relief plain to see on their face.

“You see?” Janus said over their shoulder in a scolding tone. “I had to resort to outside measures to deal with your bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Roman whined from where he was slumped on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Netflix on the TV.

“Oh? And what’s this?” Janus demanded, hands on their hips. They dramatically pushed the button to open the microwave door, revealing a limp burrito wrapped in a damp paper towel.

“Lunch,” Roman mumbled defensively.

“You hate microwave food, and it’s four in the afternoon!” Janus snapped.

“I am in a creative slump, Jan! Have some sympathy!”

“No! Get your whiny ass off the couch and stop ruining my afternoon!”

Virgil took a deep breath and pointedly walked in between the pair of them down the hall towards Logan’s room. Roman and Janus’s still-bickering voices faded into the background.

“Hey.” Virgil knocked on the door, which had a piece of printer paper taped to it with Logan’s name written on it in blue sharpie and a couple of stars, both scribbles and stickers, scattered around it. He waited, and when there was no reply, he added, “Are you okay, Lo?”

“I’m fine,” Logan said, in a voice that had obviously been crying.

“Can I come in?” Virgil asked.

“Okay.”

Virgil pushed open the door and stepped into the dim room, closing it behind him. The blinds were closed, and Logan was curled up under a mound of blankets.

“Hey, baby,” Virgil murmured, kicking off his shoes and climbing to sit on the bed beside Logan and stroke his hair. “What’s wrong?”

Logan made a muffled noise of misery into the mattress.

“What?” Virgil said after a moment.

Logan rolled over. “Teacher didn’t like my essay.”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Okay, I promise I’m not making fun of you, but you do know that that is possibly the most stereotypically you thing you have ever said to me, right?”

Logan let out a little huff that was not quite a laugh. “I guess.” He was silent for a moment as Virgil continued to stroke his hair. “And I know it’s stupid. I still got a B+ and my overall grade in the class is fine and I know I’m a good writer and everything. But it sucks. I was really proud of it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Virgil said, choosing to ignore the squirm in his gut that always happened when grades came up. It was so easy to compare or to worry about others comparing and then to worry about others getting upset over comparisons and—he dragged himself back to the present, forcibly setting the issue aside. “You’re allowed to feel upset,” he told Logan. “About anything that upsets you. Even if you wouldn’t choose it.”

Logan didn’t respond, but after a minute his hand snaked out from under the covers and grasped Virgil’s.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Virgil asked, struck with the idea.

“Huh?”

“A walk. Get out of your head for a little bit and hang out. We can talk if you want, or just be together.”

Roman’s voice grew particularly loud outside, and Virgil picked out a teary, petulant, “I hate you!”

“Plus it’ll get you away from that energy,” he added wryly.

Logan drew in a breath and sat up. “Alright. Let’s do it.” He pulled out a denim jacket while Virgil put his shoes back on and retied the laces. They made their way out of the apartment, hand in hand.

Roman was on his feet now, releasing an angry tirade at Janus, hands clenched into fists and sounding on the verge of crying, the TV remote cast on the floor beside him. Janus was sitting on the kitchen counter with arms crossed and an intimidating glare on their face.

“Hey!” Virgil snapped, and Roman cut off abruptly. “Eat some food,” Virgil told him on a hunch. Sure, Roman could be a little immature at times, but this was on a whole different level, and a lack of food seemed like the simplest culprit.

Virgil looked over at Janus, to make it clear that they weren’t off the hook either. “We’re going out. You two better make up before we get back. Clear?”

“You can’t tell us what to do—” Roman began stubbornly.

“Janus literally called me in to fix all your problems, so yeah. I can. Also open your windows, it’s gloomy as fuck in here.” Virgil opened the door and held it for Logan, tossing one last glare over his shoulder at Roman, who looked dumbstruck, and Janus, who avoided eye contact.

Logan was quiet as the two of them walked down the stairs and exited the apartment building, hands in his pockets (one still clasping Virgil’s) and eyes on the toes of his slip-on shoes.

“Wanna talk?” Virgil asked.

Logan tilted his head to the side for a moment, his thinking face slipping over his features, and then shook his head.

Virgil nodded. “Okay.” He fished in his pocket for his earbuds and plugged them in. “Let me know if that changes, okay?” He received a small nod and turned on his go-to playlist—a 12-and-a-half-hour-long composition of all his favorite emo songs that he could loop without having to put any thought in.

The two of them wandered through the streets, hand in hand, music blaring in Virgil’s ears and Logan’s fingers soft and warm against his. They made their way towards downtown; their university was in a small city, and it was pretty walkable.

As they walked, weaving around and across different blocks, occasionally stopping to peek into particularly interesting shop windows, the tension in Logan’s shoulders slowly began to relax and his gaze migrated from the toes of his shoes upwards to take in the surrounding scenery. Virgil felt himself relaxing in turn. The subdued, almost sullen look on Logan’s face was beginning to shift back to his typical bright-eyed curiosity, which meant that while maybe not all was right with the world, a whole lot was right with the world.

As the sky began to darken, Logan’s pace quickened with sudden purpose—but he didn’t lead Virgil in the direction of the apartment. Instead, he headed in almost the exact opposite direction. Virgil was lost for a moment as to where they were going, until the park in the center of downtown came into view. Ah. That explained it. He was kind of glad; he didn’t feel ready for the quiet time they were spending together to be over.

A scent caught his attention as they entered the park, and he tugged gently at Logan’s arm, nodding towards the mediterranean food truck. A small smile answered him, and a nod, and the pair of them made their way over. They both ordered gyros—Virgil chicken, and Logan, who was trying out vegetarian food, falafel.

Fifteen minutes later, seated side by side on a park bench and finishing the last of their sandwiches, Logan cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Virgil bumped his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. “Of course, babe.”

“I am feeling… better,” Logan said cautiously, as if he were testing out the words in his mouth to see if they felt true.

Virgil nodded. “Better is good.”

Logan nodded, eyes moving to the sky, which was now almost fully dark except for a streak of orange sunset leftover on the horizon. The stars were out, at least the brightest ones that could be seen even past the floodlights placed every so often across the park.

“You like space, and shit, right?” Virgil said, scooting closer to Logan and dragging his arm to wrap around Virgil as he rested his head on Logan’s shoulder. It was a bit of a rhetorical question, since he knew Logan had an astronomy minor and was the vice president of the astronomy club and had gone on no less than three eager rambles about space in the last month alone, but one could always do with a conversation opener.

Logan blinked and looked down at him. “I do.” You know this, his tone said, a little puzzled at the question.

“What star is that?” Virgil pointed at a particularly bright one, although he wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to the star as he was to Logan’s face.

Sure enough, Logan brightened, his eyes more interesting than any star. “Oh! That’s not a star at all—it’s actually Mercury!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, grinning and scooting closer.

Logan wrapped his arm a little more tightly around Virgil’s shoulders with an answering smile. “Yes, and it’s actually very fascinating…” And just like that, he was off, words spilling out of his mouth at a breakneck pace, gesturing eagerly with his free hand to emphasize his points.

Virgil listened, doing his best to follow along and asking a few questions whenever Logan started to wind down, but mostly just happy to watch his boyfriend’s lips as he excitedly infodumped, and his eyes, too, alight with delight, the frustration of the disappointing grade all but forgotten as he held Virgil and told him stories about the night sky.

It was nearly ten at night by the time they made their way back to Logan’s apartment, chatting back and forth in quiet voices and giggling. Logan broke off as he opened the door and got a look inside; he glanced over his shoulder at Virgil and put a finger to his lips.

Virgil hushed and followed him in, then saw what the need for quiet was: Janus and Roman were asleep on the sofa, Roman sprawled on his stomach on top of Janus with his limbs everywhere and his face buried in Janus’s chest, Janus with their arms wrapped around him and a throw pillow propping their head up and a worn copy of Crime and Punishment flopped over from where it had clearly been propped up on Roman’s back.

“Precious,” Virgil commented softly as Logan picked up the book, tucked a bookmark off the coffee table into it, and set it down with the tender care he seemed to reserve exclusively for books and Virgil.

Logan smiled. “They are, rather.” He looked down at his roommates. “Sometimes I wonder why I picked the two most dramatic people I know to live with.”

“Sometimes like this afternoon?” Virgil said with a chuckle.

Logan snorted. “Maybe. But then they do things like this, and I remember why I like them.”

Virgil noticed something on the tiny kitchen table. “Or this?” He pointed.

Logan came over to examine what Virgil had found. “Oh,” he breathed, a smile spreading across his face.

A plate of cookies sat on the table, together with a hastily handmade card.

“Sorry :( ❤️” it read in large, expressive cursive, and beneath it in smaller, neater handwriting, “I actually didn’t do anything wrong, but these are for you and I did the dishes, also you’re welcome for the date night.”

Logan laughed quietly, taking a cookie and offering the plate to Virgil, who accepted one cookie—they looked to be snickerdoodles. “Yes. Things exactly like this,” he said. He took a bite of the cookie and raised his eyebrows. “Not bad.”

Virgil grinned and leaned over to kiss him. “Not bad at all,” he agreed, pulling away.

“I literally gave you your own cookie,” Logan whispered, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, but it tastes better this way.” Virgil winked, mainly for Logan’s reaction—he pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling an amused smile that was still visible in his eyes. “I should go,” Virgil added, glancing at the time. It was Sunday tomorrow, so he didn’t need to worry about how late he was up, but he disliked walking home at night.

Logan nodded, taking another cookie and pressing it into his hand. “Text me when you get home?”

“I always do,” Virgil said, accepting the cookie and a goodnight kiss that still tasted just faintly of cinnamon and sugar.

And he did just that; he always felt a little awkward simply texting “I made it home,” or the like, so he usually tried to come up with interesting questions to send to Logan instead. Tonight, it was:

Virgil: hey Virgil: if u could pick one Thing u always wanted to do Virgil: and get a guarantee that u’d get a chance to do that thing no matter what Virgil: what would u pick?

Logan: Fascinating question! I would like the opportunity to name a star. Logan: I don’t imagine it will ever happen in real life, but I’ve always thought it would be… cool, for lack of a better word.

Virgil: ghfdkjghksdhj i will never be over ur love for space Virgil: u have a Brand and u stick to it

Logan: Well, a brand is important in life. :-) Logan: What about you? What would you pick?

Virgil: i think it’d be neat to be in a band Virgil: idk Virgil: like i don’t wanna be super famous or anything but like Virgil: being in a band would be neat Virgil: yk?

***

Ten years later, Virgil sang the last lines of his song looking right at his husband. “And I don’t even need to look to the skies/Because all of the stars are in your eyes.”

The noise around him didn’t fade away like in the movies; to the contrary, the cheering was so loud it was almost hard to focus. But Logan’s face was absolutely alight—Virgil couldn’t be sure at this distance, but he thought Logan might even be tearing up—and he was looking at Virgil like he was his whole world. Even with the bright lights and overwhelming sounds all around, it was easy to focus on Logan in the midst of it all, Logan pressing a hand to his mouth but smiling too wide for anything to hide it, Logan leaning into the side-hug that Patton—oh, and there was Patton, right beside him—was offering, but never taking his eyes off Virgil. Logan looked so happy, even though Virgil knew concerts weren’t really his favorite type of event, and Virgil was hit right in the chest with a renewed realization that Logan was Virgil’s whole world and damn, Virgil wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

But their time onstage was up, and the next few minutes were a bustle of packing equipment away and cleaning up the space they’d been allotted backstage, and it all went by in a bit of a blur, helped along by the remnants of Virgil’s performance mindset and slight overstimulation—though that was getting better now that he was offstage.

Virgil took a quick break, when the bulk of the urgent work was done, to just stand in the empty restroom and breathe for a moment, the noise of the other band who were now onstage thudding in the background so quietly he could hardly hear it. When he’d fully composed himself, feeling much calmer, he took a deep breath and headed back out.

On his way out, he ran into Roman, pushing a dolly with a box on it. “Oh, good, there you are,” he greeted Virgil. “Can you—oh, for crying out loud,” he broke off, looking ahead.

Following his gaze, Virgil snickered as he saw Remus, leaning against the wall with their hands clasped behind his head, grinning down at Patton, who was leaned forward, bracketing Remus with his arms, looking up at him and speaking, although Virgil couldn’t hear him from here.

“We still have work to do,” Roman said under his breath, but the exasperated gaze he leveled at the pair was altogether far too fond to have much real bite.

Virgil’s mind was on other matters; if Patton was here, that meant—

“Lolo!” Patton’s voice called brightly; he’d seen Roman and Virgil and stepped back from Remus, waving happily at the pair of them. “Virgil’s here!”

At the sound of Patton’s voice, Janus emerged from the room, a little further down the hall, that had served as the headquarters for the band. He bent to give the tiny man a kiss, then turned to Remus for another kiss.

Logan popped his head out just a moment behind Janus. “Virgil?” He brightened when he saw Virgil’s face, and stepped fully out into the hall. He hadn’t changed from his work outfit, still wearing a button down with the sleeves rolled up, a tie, and a pair of jeans, and a smile that he looked like he couldn’t wipe off his face.

He was still the handsomest man Virgil had ever seen.

Virgil looked to Roman. “Permission to get back on my alloromantic bullshit, captain?” he asked teasingly.

Roman rolled his eyes and swatted Virgil’s shoulder. “Go be cute,” he said benignly.

Virgil took off down the hallway to Logan, not quite running; Logan took a few steps to meet him, and Virgil caught him in a hug so eager he actually lifted the taller man off his feet for just a second.

Logan, half-laughing with surprise, grasped Virgil’s shoulders for balance as he regained his feet. “You wrote me a song?”

“Did you like it?” Virgil asked, holding him tightly.

“Virgil, I—” Logan seized Virgil’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Virgil wrapped his arms more firmly around his husband, kissing him back exuberantly and swaying slightly back and forth.

“It’s perfect,” Logan told him, breaking away only just far enough to speak. “You’re perfect.”

Virgil grinned, reaching up to run his fingers through Logan’s neat hair. “Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that,” Logan told him seriously. “It’s not spoiling if you deserve it.”

And really, what was Virgil supposed to do about that except kiss his husband again?

[bl-garbage]

to dance is to unshackle

um, okay—how else do i express this buoyant happiness that Gaya sa Pelikula has awoken inside me? i’m in complete and utter awe. i did not expect a drop of what the sixth episode has brought us. more than satisfying, it’s utterly fascinating. this is quite a lengthy post, but if you have the time, please bear with me. and since we’re already here, let’s fucking dissect the shit out of this:

right off the bat, it’s sweet how consistently written Vlad was the entire time of the show. at the start of the episode, for one, he was concerned with Karl’s disposition, saying, “anong iniisip mo (what are you thinking)?” and, later on, as we know, he pops that question again in this episode. what are you thinking? always in limbo. true, it’s considerate, yet more than that, it’s always a sign of waiting for permission. Vlad has been like this since the beginning: observant and willing to reach out, confident on the surface, yes, but always afraid of going overboard. 

that is not to say that Karl isn’t. in fact, the whole dynamics of their relationship rest on the fact that they can lean on each other and just be honest. many moments show this: Karl’s desire to shift; Vlad not getting  into the film lab and Karl knowing something was up; the entirety of Vlad’s birthday; Karl and Vlad’s reticence to open up to Anna, in contrast with how comfortable they feel with each other. in a nutshell, they’re each other’s homes. more on this later.

the part i was most frightened at with this episode was when Karl finally told his parents his desire to shift. to be honest, personally, i wouldn’t know exactly how that pressure on Karl feels, as i was able to study the degree i wanted. yet, back then, i had already known that my parents, who wholly supported me just the same, would have wanted a degree that leaned on science or engineering. that still sucked to know. Karl’s situation is much more complicated. his desire to shift to another course is to make up for lost time, a sense of hurrying before it really becomes all too late. this was a heavy lot to take in. the disappointment and anger in his father’s face when he dropped the bomb was too much to handle. Karl had expected it, yet its impact still hurled shrapnel that he was not able to dodge, sustaining him with several wounds. it would be curious to see how his parents come to terms with his confession. i am certain that a number of people have connected with Karl here.

which brings me to another point. Gaya sa Pelikula creates these characters with their own agency. it’s touted as a BL series, yes, but our two main characters’ point is actually not to fall in love — but to live, part of which is to fall in love. they have their hopes and dreams and own burdens to carry, and while falling in love takes centerstage here, we see how they can stand alone, on their own two feet. falling in love is central to their growth, but it is evident that love is not the whole point of their existence. 

speaking of which: ate judit. ah, yes, where do i even begin to explain the exquisiteness with which ate judit was written? how, after all of five episodes, it was only now did it make sense why judit was overly, unnaturally caring and protective, a mama bear that would not let anything happen to his little Vlad. now we know why: guilt.  

imagine that. being told you were the reason why your whole family went into shambles. there is much vindication in Vlad’s line of questioning, “why would you say that to a child?” (god, i’m tearing up even as i write this.) this was a pivotal scene, with a focal point on judit, the likes of whom we cannot entirely fault for not knowing any better. the fact remains that we are still in an era that fails to understand the spectrum of gender identities and the far utopia that we seek, where gender and sex would not be a damning classification anymore. and for true allies, it is in admitting that they “didn’t know then what [they] know now” that their support gains more strength. it is in confessing where they got wrong, how harmful their actions were, and in the commitment to do more, that their promise is made good.

parenthetically, can we talk about Vlad’s mom as well? have you all noticed how her voice broke when she said, “siguraduhin mong hindi ka na itatanggi niyan, ha (just make sure he won’t deny you, okay)?” was that pain, or guilt even? i wonder if we’re ever going to see her. it would be a regret not to. for so long Vlad had thought that he was the reason his father left, and that his mother was mad at his queerness. i wouldn’t want this simple call to be the resolution that the show had for him. at any rate, we have two more episodes to await, so i am not going to strike my gavel on this judgment just yet.

but whereas Vlad found his longtime coming reconciliation with his sister, Karl had no one to turn to. his call to Vlad was a cry for help. it was heartbreaking to see him like this. Karl had always put up a fake smile against any adversity that had come his way. to him, these were trivial matters that would pass, and they did so — until now. after all he was, as we would later come to know, living a script that had been prewritten before he even came to being. that explains his nonchalant demeanor toward life, the seeming discontent behind those dead eyes, and a repeated hinting that he was always yearning for so much more. at the end of the call, Karl instinctively goes to the closet - and his proverbial closet - and sees the skeletons he had hidden inside, drop in a mess. 

that it was Karl’s brother who was in the photo shook me. that past was so well thought out. things made so much sense in this episode: why Karl tried to fit in, why everything seemed so fake. why he was so discomforting to watch, even! that made sense now.  

and what do you do when everything has become a mess? the once seamless film that had been rolling without any glitches now sprawled on the floor, entangled in a hodgepodge well beyond fixing. when that happens, what do you do? well, you dance.

i have so many things to say about faux masculinity. it is a fact undisputed that in this society, gender roles are still very much pillars that we have yet to dismantle. our genders have been geared toward performativity, and our consolation is the external validation we receive through the acts of fitting in. in the process, we lose sight of what we really want. we blur the lines between what is and what should be, in favor of what society has demanded upon us. Karl took that role and lived by it religiously. yet, those things has gone haywire in this episode. more than his parents, it was to himself that Karl has finally admitted that the act can be dropped now: the fixed posture, those rehearsed lines, that painfully faux masculinity, on guard all the fucking time. all of those things were dropped.

that is not to say that Karl was faking all of it. there is no denying that Karl has been a masculine person most of the time. but the show portrayed before us a discarded femininity that Karl had been trying to bury deep inside him — one that all people who have been and who are still in the closet know by heart. the thing is, all of us have masculine and feminine sides, the expression of which vary at different levels in different situations. sadly, we have been preconditioned to believe that male persons must be masculine, and female persons must be feminine. Gaya sa Pelikula acknowledges this hegemony, and then throws it away all the same. true, Karl may very well be comfortable in his masculine expression, but his femininity must also be allowed to grow. one cannot be complete without embracing the entirety of who they are. many have died — been killed — for simply living who they are. society has long been a vicious environment. but people have also long fought for their fundamental right to perform these things, and through them, we know that things can change. that things are changing.

it is against this context that imprints more meaning, more gravity to when we finally, finally see Karl dance. in every sense, his dance was the show’s climax for me. it is, quite emphatically, freedom incarnate.

when i say i fucking bawled at this scene, you best believe it.

quite important to note: when Karl sees Vlad, he stopped abruptly, only for Vlad to signal to him, in an OK sign, that what he was doing was perfectly fine. that Karl could be effeminate all he wants, and who the hell in this earth should care? this allowance has given Karl all the needed validation he will ever need, at least, for that one night where they could bare it all. it was only the two of them, but the house has never been more crowded, because their feelings have seemingly exploded and have been overflowing in a glorious climax for all of us to witness. in this scene, Karl has unshackled the chains with which he had been bound all that time, and it was Vlad who helped him finally break the last of those chains. in this moment, there was only pure bliss.

(that the song playing here was Ride Home by ben&ben is the perfect giveaway. for non-Filipino readers who have only listened to ben&ben now, check this band out. it’s one of the best bands to have ever come out of the Philippine music industry.)

and, of course, in this waterfall of emotions, it is only perfect to time the moment of their first kiss. they have accepted each other, haven’t they? in a meaningful act (the gravity of which we will only realize in full later when Vlad tells the story of his dad), Karl rumpled Vlad’s hair, but only after Vlad had already consented to it. then, afterward, it was Vlad’s turn to ask, what are you thinking? to which Karl had this—and i know we all expected it, nevertheless—to say: i don’t want to think anymore. then they kissed.

i swear to god. i only watched this for the 92432475781 time.

the denouement was so well put, too: now everything is put back into its own place. Karl’s brother. his death. his parents’ expectations. the substitution. Vlad’s father. his parents’ expectations. the horror of realizing one’s difference. the abandonment. in these stories, it becomes more and more permissible to believe that Karl and Vlad have easily found comfort in each other. to say that they are soulmates (as the creator, juan miguel severo, told on his twitter) is not an exaggeration.

and, make no mistake: Karl and Vlad did not find each other’s embraces out of pity. no. it would be unduly harsh to view them that way. rather, they found solace in each other’s embrace and warmth, but it is still they who will muster the courage to face their own demons. the only difference is, they now have each other to find some sort of release. they are not destructively dependent on each other; instead, they help each other grow into the versions of themselves that they can be proud of.

finally, a couple of small things: look at the way Karl was inviting Vlad to lie in bed with him. that simple gesture harks us back to the early days of their dynamics: Vlad had expressed that it was okay to share a bed, but Karl was adamant that they do not. Karl had once dreamed of Vlad joining him there, and that scared him shitless. in contrast to that, now we have this: Karl himself inviting Vlad, and Vlad accepting for Karl’s wholehearted invitation. the moment this happened, there was a consummation of the expression of their love. if they had their doubts prior to this, those could not have been more obliterated now. 

needless to say, i fucking, fucking loved this. as one who has only ever written three fanfics (2gether and History 2!), all of which seemingly related to sleeping (what the fuck, do i have a sleep fetish or something), this ending to episode 6 is just the cherry on top. 

their lines by the end particularly strike me. here we have Karl who wishes to create his own stories. on the other hand is Vlad who wishes that he be in charge of the endings, too. how do they do that? who knows? but the certainty that defines their pact is that they shall do it together, unbound and free to dance to the song they have chosen of their own accord. and that simple promise, made in each other’s tight embrace under artificially warm lights amid that early january weather, with no certainty at all of what tomorrow has to bring, has made all the difference. 

in 34 minutes, Gaya sa Pelikula has, yet again, done more than we could have ever expected.

i just checked and this reached 2k words. i’m not even gonna attempt to proofread this anymore. anyway, this is all i have to say for now. i just simply cannot let go of the best episode i’ve seen in this show without expressing my own reaction to it. 

(also: i’m thinking of writing a fanfic; that is, the morning after. just a one-shot, hopefully a cute one. as usual, an introspection of these characters, and what lies ahead. hope i actually get to write it!)

thank you so much, Gaya sa Pelikula. you are proof that things do change.

[kenkamishiro]

Jack Jeanne Playthrough Part 3 (April 5)

1 month later. April 5th in the VN. Kisa is at Univeil and excited she passed the entrance exam. She runs into her childhood friend Yonaga who's also been accepted. He's shocked that Kisa is attending too, but before she can explain Suzu joins them, introduces one each other.

Quartz's theme is "transparency" where many inexperienced performers who haven't specialized yet tend to go.

Onyx = Jacks whose forte is in dance.

Rhodonite = Jeannes who specialize in song.

Amber is where talented and unique students gather.

Suzu theorizes Kisa would be in Rhodonite because of her appearance, himself in Onyx because his physical abilities make him more suitable for dancing than singing or acting. Yonaga would like to be in Quartz.

Yonaga: Quartz...would be nice.

Suzu: I get what you mean!

Yonaga: Huh?

Suzu: Tbh I enrolled in Univeil cause I really admire Tachibana Tsuki, the legendary Jackace of Quartz!

Kisa: ...!

Suzu: That's why I wanna be in the same class as Tachibana Tsuki...come to think of it, your last names are the same.

Kisa: (If people find out I'm related to Tsuki-nii, it might make it even easier for them to discover my identity...! But it might be better than lying poorly...)

Kisa: It's true. It's the same (nonchalantly)

Yonaga: ......

Suzu: Maybe you guys are distant relatives!

Kisa: *nervous laughter*

Yonaga cuts in and says they should go check which class they're in. Kisa thanks Yonaga for the save. Their year is the 78th class of Univeil. All 3 are in Quartz.

Kisa gets called to the headmaster's office.

Chuuza congratulates her and informs her about her admission. The only ones who know that Kisa is a girl is him, Quartz's homeroom teacher Enishi Rokurou, and now Yonaga, Kisa's childhood friend. Chuuza is surprised that someone who knew about Kisa enrolled in the school.

But if anyone else finds out that she's a girl, expulsion. But since a lot of students are feminine, she won't have to go out of her way to act and dress like a boy. He reminds her to build trust with the rest of the students, and aim to become a lead and aim for the top.

Kisa arrives to Quartz's homeroom late.

??: Yes, yes, come right in.

Kisa: (The teacher...? But he's in a student uniform.)

??: You were called in quite loudly during the school announcements. Did you run into any issues on the first day? Theft, robbery, manslaughter, extortion, coercion, or a bank robbery, perhaps...?

(Please watch the clip of this scene. Can you tell he and Furuta share the same VA? 😄)

Fumi: No one like that would be in our school, Kuro.

??: But wouldn't be great to have such a plucky 1st year around, Fuumin! All the world's a stage!

Fumi: And, if the cops came?

??: I concede! Law is what keeps society together.

Kai: ...you two are bothering the 1st years.

Kisa finds a seat by Suzu and Yonaga.

Neji Kokuto (3rd year, 76th class of Univeil) welcomes the 1st year students to Univeil and Quartz. Class leader-slash-scriptwriter-slash-director-slash...all kinds of other things! He provides an info-dump about Univeil for us.

5 performances in total: Rookie, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Univeil Exhibitions. The Rookie Exhibition is where the 1st years take the lead roles, which is going to be held May 30th. Today is April 5th, so less than 2 months remain. Most viewers will watch over them warmly,  but others will be more strict, like journal reporters, critics and avid Univeil fans. Neji will write a script to allow even novices like them to shine on stage. Casting will be announced mid-April. Upper years are also participating and support the 1st years.

Neji: If you have any questions, all you need is to ask. I'm sure all our seniors here will be more than happy to help you.

??: What, no way.

Neji: With some exceptions of course! Mwahaha. Mikki's a 2nd year now, you can be a little nice to your juniors, hm?

??: ...

Kisa notes he looks cute like a doll. Shirota Mitsuki, noted for his singing. He catches Kisa staring at him, and she apologizes.

Neji asks if anyone has any questions. You're given 3 options: 1) How casting is determined, 2) Type of training to be done, 3) No questions.

Casting is based on Neji's subjective judgment. Everything from how they're doing in lessons, campus life, the way they walk, talk, physique, voice, facial expressions. Essentially based on his intuition, which he uses to find gemstones in the rough.

Training I'll explain later, there's gameplay related to it.

Neji finishes his spiel and passes it on to Quartz's homeroom teacher, Enishi. Pretty low energy. Lessons start tomorrow. Class is dismissed.

Suzu meets Kisa outside the Quartz dorms and asks if she's ready to introduce herself to the other students. He notes it's hard to find people since Univeil is so large. They chat for a bit, Suzu asks Kisa to call him by his first name, so Suzu-kun it is.

Inside Yonaga's dorm. He's finished unpacking, though he's still yet to put away his books (on theatre). He asks how Kisa got into Univeil, and she explains what happened. Yonaga says he'll help Kisa to make sure she stays at Univeil. He's glad that Kisa is here with him.

Yonaga: Kisa-chan, about Tsuki-kun...

Kisa: I can't get in touch with Tsuki-nii, but I'm sure he's doing fine wherever he is. 

Yonaga: I see. Yeah, I'm sure he is.

(Isn't that sketchy? Maybe he turned into that weasel with the moon on its belly lol)

Kisa begins her search for the Quartz students. At the Univeil courtyard, Kisa hears Mitsuki singing.

"Within this chest of mine I dance, the rhythm of possibilities"

Kisa: (I'd heard he was lauded for his singing, but he really has a beautiful voice...the lyrics paint the scene in my head.)

Mitsuki: ...could you not stare at me like that? It's uncomfortable.

Kisa: Oh, I'm sorry!

Mitsuki: Oh, you again. The 1st year who came in late.

Kisa: Yes. My name is Tachibana Kisa. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Mitsuki: Huh...you've got a face like a girl.

Kisa: Eh? Y-yes, I suppose so.

Mitsuki: A high-pitch voice. A delicate figure. And a Jeanne at that. At least be aware of your own features.

Kisa: I-I'm sorry.

He sighs and introduces himself. 2nd year, 77th class of Univeil. A Jeanne and a tresor (songstress/diva) of Quartz. VA is Kajiwara Gakuto (Asta). Kisa compliments him on his singing.

Mitsuki: So you were eavesdropping.

Kisa: I-I'm sorry.

Mitsuki: Well, not like I care either way. Later.

Kisa: He left...I guess he doesn't really like interacting with people. But his voice really was beautiful.

(If I had to describe Mitsuki's tone, it would be similar to Kenma, but a bit more antisocial lol)

Kisa finds Kai in the forest, seemingly concentrating on something. She decides to come back later, but Kai notices her.

Kai: ...? Quartz's 1st year?

Kisa: Yes! I'm Tachibana Kisa.

Kai: I see, you're...

Kisa: Yes!

(awkward silence between the two)

Kai: Mutsumi Kai, 76th class of Univeil. I'm a 3rd year.

Kisa: So I should call you Mutsumi-senpai!

Kai: Kai is fine. You can call me that around other people too.

Kisa: But...

Kai: ...

Kisa: ...(agrees)

Kai: ...

Kisa: T-then, I'll call you Kai-san!

Kai: Okay.

Kisa notes Kai is the Jackace of Quartz. And since Tsuki was also the Jackace, that means he must be talented too.

Kai: I'm a vessel meant to garnish the Aljeanne. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kisa is confused by his statement. Convo ends.

Kisa runs into Neji next in the hallways. He enters a room then promptly comes back out.

Neji: Welcome!

Kisa: Ah!

Neji: What're you doing in a place like this?

Kisa: I'm going around introducing myself to everyone in Quartz.

Neji invites her into his workroom where he writes his scripts and plans his staging. But he also performs on stage, any male or female role, from a shining prince/princess to old grannies/gramps.

He's currently working on the script for Quartz, but he won't reveal it just yet. Kisa asks if the other class leaders write the scripts like he does, but Neji is a special case, who screenwrites, directs and performs.

Neji: Once you get carried away, you can't see what's going on around you. What we do has no end to it. Acting, dancing, singing, they're fields that you can pursue for a lifetime. You could reach the stars, or merely end up as a master of none. No matter how much time,  it will never be enough. It's a terrifying world out there. That's why it's so engrossing. The stage is a colossal device. The Jacks and Jeannes make up the gears, and I am the craftsman who pieces them together. Let's create a fantastic stage together, Tachibana-kun!

Neji must continue writing, and wishes Kisa the best for the Rookie Exhibition. (Neji definitely talks the most out of the main cast lol. And fast too, talks a mile a minute and tone varies hugely)

Kisa finds Fumi standing languidly in the middle of the dance room, taking deep breaths before beginning to dance. A Japanese-style dance where his movements are gentle, beautiful and brilliant. He comments on Kisa staring intently at him, just like during the entrance exam.

Kisa is surprised that Fumi remembered, despite the number of applicants.

Fumi: I remember you and the red-haired guy well cause you two danced so terribly.

Kisa: Oh...

Fumi: I'm just kidding. Though the red-haired guy really did suck.

Kisa introduces herself, and Fumi pauses at hearing the name Tachibana. 3rd year Takashina Sarafumi, 76th class of Univeil, but he prefers being called Fumi, no senpai honorific attached. Kisa ends up calling him Fumi-san.

Fumi: Let's have fun, Kisa. (leaves)

Kisa: It's overwhelming seeing him up close. So that's the power of an Aljeanne.

Kisa goes to her room excited for her new life at Univeil and retires for the night for her 1st day of classes tomorrow.

＊＊＊

previous || next (to be updated)

[bigskydreaming]

Hot take that all of the bats are theatre kids but on varying ends of the spectrum. Like Dick? 110% the legitimate performer. Jason? Just here cause he's weirdly obsessed with Shakespeare. Tim is the kid manning the stage effects. I haven't broken down the rest of them yet but I know in my bones that it works. Stephanie's probably a diva or always plays the fool

Yessssssss. Theater is absolutely the one thing that could unite them. Chaotically. Also potentially disastrously. Eh, semantics.

But Dick is of course a ham and I do believe he genuinely enjoys ‘taking a break from himself’ to immerse himself behind a cover identity.....but more than that, I honestly believe he’d love directing and putting his skills with coaxing potential out of people individually or in groups to use for something purely hobby-ish. 

Jason I also see as someone who potentially could love acting for a similar reason I see as behind his love of reading....its the vacation from the self or his own life, the trip in someone else’s shoes or story. Through books, and also acting, the ‘you can be anything you set your mind to’ thing has actual practicality. 

Tim I could see enjoying being the tech guy, but also I could see him liking the directing side of things too, or actually lots of different parts of the process, from script to stage.....like, I dislike when fandom focuses overly much on Tim as the tech guy because it tends to go hand in hand with acting like everyone else but Babs is clueless at such stuff, and also death to the instinctive correlation between smarts and tech like that’s the only possible place to showcase genius or the obvious go-to for how to show a smart person is smart, death to that I say, death and murder and also annihilation. But more than that its that IMO its not tech that Tim likes/focuses on in particular, its workshopping stuff. Taking something from idea to fruition, and being responsible for shepherding its progress every step of the way. 

Cass of course loves dancing and everything to do with it, but another headcanon I’ve always had is that Cass potentially could love choreographing dance. If dance appeals to Cass because its spoken in her first language, that of movement and the body, think about the potential that lies in not just the fact that dance innately is meant to put everyone else for once on the same page as her, watching the dancer for the story they’re telling with their movements.....but through choreographing others, Cass has the opportunity to tell stories of her own for other people to ‘hear’....again, in that same language so to speak. To communicate through others’ movements the way others’ movements normally just speak to her.

Damian I could see a case being made for him gravitating to literally any aspect of theater first out of his innate competitiveness....if his siblings have a skill, he wants to prove its perfectly within his own capabilities as well....but then discovering that oh no, he actually likes a lot of this, what trickery is this, he has been bamboozled, clearly Grayson is behind this, this....insidious attempt to....make him do things just because he “enjoys” them. What utter rot. And other such thoughts and inner rantings that all just further provide proof that this boy was BORN to monologue, and oh look, a stage for such monologues. Also, stage combat? Okay, having to pull his actual punches irks, but the applause for knocking a class rival to the ground instead of censure because he was directed to, look its literally in the script......that’s a plus. Because Damian’s unique form of middle-school Machiavellianism is such that he absolutely would audition for a role for no other reason than the role calls for doing something terrible to the character of someone he immensely dislikes (or just finds tedious, hey its a spectrum), and getting to spend a couple hours every week doing so is catharctic in a way the family isn’t entirely sure they want to encourage but hey, can’t argue with results.

Duke I also could see taking a lot of different routes, but I think he’s another one who would do really well in the director’s chair, coaxing potential classmates didn’t even know they had out of a performance. In the sense that yeah, I think he’s one of the closest to Dick personality wise so a lot of the reasons I see that being ideal for Dick are why I see it working for him as well, but also just like....the way it naturally calls back to the fact that part of his meta powers is he literally boosts the powers of other metas. He has a knack for bringing stuff out of people.

Stephanie is the understudy that’s just there to goof off and have fun, its a nice, relaxing A and that’s the only reason she’s in theater class or using drama club as an extracurricular that can afford her skipping a rehearsal or two or three.....but for all her big talk of “Pffft, nerds, I just came for the stage combat class and stayed because I forgot what else I was going to do’.....she just happens to know all the lines and mouths them along with the actors on stage and gets personally offended when they mess up because they’re doing it BADLY and ugh are they trying to suck this hard or are they just naturally gifted at that part, here, lemme show you how its done, and that’s how she accidentally rom-com scenarios her way into being the star of the show two hours before curtain call or else the plucky impromptu interim director when the real one quits in a fit of high school theater histrionics, or y’know, is made to quit when Stephanie incites a mutiny among the cast because that’s kinda plausible to tbh. Look, there are options here is all I’m saying.

And then Babs as well I see as being not so much in a particular single role at the exception of all others, but whatever puts her most in the driver’s seat of taking something from idea to opening night, like starting with a script maybe, hell even just the line producer or script supervisor, and then accidentallying her way into more and more creative responsibilities and control because the parts just start to come together more easily/readily when she’s rearranging the pieces into orders and in ways that make more sense to others and they find themselves gravitating to, because maybe this was just a local community thing people were doing for fun or to blow off steam but without even noticing a change it starts to take more and more shape as an actual thing as she finds her groove and sees how to improve on this scene here or tighten up things here or what happens when these two actors swap roles and then almost belatedly people are like oh wait, this doesn’t just HAVE to be fun hobby shenanigans this could also be something actually good too, weird thought, hey did anyone else know things could be both fun AND good? Is this a thing or are we in uncharted waters here.

[door]

CHRISTMAS EFFECTS

by Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick

from Tendencies (1993)

What’s “queer”? Here’s one tram of thought about it. The depressing thing about the Christmas season—isn’t it? —is that it’s the time when all the institutions are speaking with one voice. The Church says what the Church says. But the State says the same thing: maybe not (in some ways it hardly matters) in the language of theology, but in the language the State talks: legal holidays, long school hiatus, special postage stamps, and all. And the language of commerce more than chimes in, as consumer purchasing is organized ever more narrowly around the final weeks of the calendar year, the Dow Jones aquiver over Americans’ “holiday mood.” The media, in turn, fall in triumphally behind the Christmas phalanx: ad-swollen magazines have oozing turkeys on the cover, while for the news industry every question turns into the Christmas question—Will hostages be free for Christmas? What did that flash flood or mass murder (umpty-ump people killed and maimed) do to those families’ Christmas? And meanwhile, the pairing “families/Christmas” becomes increasingly tautological, as families more and more constitute themselves according to the schedule, and in the endlessly iterated image, of the holiday itself constituted in the image of “the” family.

The thing hasn’t, finally, so much to do with propaganda for Christianity as with propaganda for Christmas itself. They all—religion, state, capital, ideology, domesticity, the discourses of power and legitimacy—line up with each other so neatly once a year, and the monolith so created is a thing one can come to view with unhappy eyes. What if instead there were a practice of valuing the ways in which meanings and institutions can be at loose ends with each other? What if the richest junctures weren’t the ones where everything means the same thing? Think of that entity “the family,” an impacted social space in which all of the following are meant to line up perfectly with each other:

a surname a sexual dyad a legal unit based on state-regulated marriage a circuit of blood relationships a system of companionship and succor a building a proscenium between “private” and “public” an economic unit of earning and taxation the prime site of economic consumption the prime site of cultural consumption a mechanism to produce, care for, and acculturate children a mechanism for accumulating material goods over several generations a daily routine a unit in a community of worship a site of patriotic formation

and of course the list could go on. Looking at my own life, I see that— probably like most people—I have valued and pursued these various elements of family identity to quite differing degrees (e.g., no use at all for worship, much need of companionship). But what’s been consistent in this particular life is an interest in not letting very many of these dimensions line up directly with each other at one time. I see it’s been a ruling intuition for me that the most productive strategy (intellectually, emotionally) might be, whenever possible, to disarticulate them one from another, to disengage them—the bonds of blood, of law, of habitation, of privacy, of companionship and succor—from the lockstep of their unanimity in the system called “family.”

Or think of all the elements that are condensed in the notion of sexual identity, something that the common sense of our time presents as a unitary category. Yet, exerting any pressure at all on “sexual identity,” you see that its elements include

your biological (e.g., chromosomal) sex, male or female; your self-perceived gender assignment, male or female (supposed to be the same as your biological sex); the preponderance of your traits of personality and appearance, masculine or feminine (supposed to correspond to your sex and gender); the biological sex of your preferred partner; the gender assignment of your preferred partner (supposed to be the same as her/his biological sex); the masculinity or femininity of your preferred partner (supposed to be the opposite of your own); your self-perception as gay or straight (supposed to correspond to whether your preferred partner is your sex or the opposite); your preferred partner’s self-perception as gay or straight (supposed to be the same as yours); your procreative choice (supposed to be yes if straight, no if gay); your preferred sexual act(s) (supposed to be insertive if you are male or masculine, receptive if you are female or feminine); your most eroticized sexual organs (supposed to correspond to the procreative capabilities of your sex, and to your insertive/receptive assignment); your sexual fantasies (supposed to be highly congruent with your sexual practice, but stronger in intensity); your main locus of emotional bonds (supposed to reside in your preferred sexual partner); your enjoyment of power in sexual relations (supposed to be low if you are female or feminine, high if male or masculine); the people from whom you learn about your own gender and sex (supposed to correspond to yourself in both respects); your community of cultural and political identification (supposed to correspond to your own identity);

and—again—many more. Even this list is remarkable for the silent presumptions it has to make about a given person’s sexuality, presumptions that are true only to varying degrees, and for many people not true at all: that everyone “has a sexuality,” for instance, and that it is implicated with each person’s sense of overall identity in similar ways; that each person’s most characteristic erotic expression will be oriented toward another person and not autoerotic; that if it is alloerotic, it will be oriented toward a single partner or kind of partner at a time; that its orientation will not change over time. Normatively, as the parenthetical prescriptions in the list above suggest, it should be possible to deduce anybody’s entire set of specs from the initial datum of biological sex alone—if one adds only the normative assumption that “the biological sex of your preferred partner” will be the opposite of one’s own. With or without that heterosexist assumption, though, what’s striking is the number and difference of the dimensions that “sexual identity” is supposed to organize into a seamless and univocal whole.

And if it doesn’t?

That’s one of the things that “queer” can refer to: the open mesh of possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances and resonances, lapses and excesses of meaning when the constituent elements of anyone’s gender, of anyone’s sexuality aren’t made (or can’t be made) to signify monolithically. The experimental linguistic, epistemological, representational, political adventures attaching to the very many of us who may at times be moved to describe ourselves as (among many other possibilities) pushy femmes, radical faeries, fantasists, drags, clones, leatherfolk, ladies in tuxedoes, feminist women or feminist men, masturbators, bulldaggers, divas, Snap! queens, butch bottoms, storytellers, transsexuals, aunties, wannabes, lesbian-identified men or lesbians who sleep with men, or…people able to relish, learn from, or identify with such.

Again, “queer” can mean something different: a lot of the way I have used it so far in this dossier is to denote, almost simply, same-sex sexual object choice, lesbian or gay, whether or not it is organized around multiple criss-crossings of definitional lines. And given the historical and contemporary force of the prohibitions against every same-sex sexual expression, for anyone to disavow those meanings, or to displace them from the term’s definitional center, would be to dematerialize any possibility of queerness itself.

At the same time, a lot of the most exciting recent work around “queer” spins the term outward along dimensions that can’t be subsumed under gender and sexuality at all: the ways that race, ethnicity, postcolonial nationality criss-cross with these and other identity-constituting, identityfracturing discourses, for example. Intellectuals and artists of color whose sexual self-definition includes “queer”—I think of an Isaac Julien, a Gloria Anzaldúa, a Richard Fung—are using the leverage of “queer” to do a new kind of justice to the fractal intricacies of language, skin, migration, state. Thereby, the gravity (I mean the gravitas, the meaning, but also the center of gravity) of the term “queer” itself deepens and shifts.

Another telling representational effect. A word so fraught as “queer” is— fraught with so many social and personal histories of exclusion, violence, defiance, excitement—never can only denote; nor even can it only connote; a part of its experimental force as a speech act is the way in which it dramatizes locutionary position itself. Anyone’s use of “queer” about themselves means differently from their use of it about someone else. This is true (as it might also be true of “lesbian” or “gay”) because of the violently different connotative evaluations that seem to cluster around the category. But “gay” and “lesbian” still present themselves (however delusively) as objective, empirical categories governed by empirical rules of evidence (however contested). “Queer” seems to hinge much more radically and explicitly on a person’s undertaking particular, performative acts of experimental self-perception and filiation. A hypothesis worth making explicit: that there are important senses in which “queer” can signify only when attached to the first person. One possible corollary: that what it takes —all it takes—to make the description “queer” a true one is the impulsion to use it in the first person.

[feotakahari]

My Name is Ethan

Most participants--some would say victims--in the Infinite Loops embrace a continuity of identity. What’s them is what’s always true, and what changes each time is false. One boy takes a very different approach. (Not based on any existing series.)

My name is Ethan Wilson, and I’m going to die on this rooftop.

I had a pretty good run of being a hero. Twenty-four hours of making friends and escaping henchmen and stopping that bastard Baldwin from flooding the city with a madness-inducing neurotoxin. Not bad for a teenage boy who was never in a real fight before. But Baldwin shot me twice in the gut before Jess threw him off the roof, and now the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the corners of my vision are starting to creep in.

Jess is trying to stop the bleeding. Robby’s on the phone with emergency services, his cool facade cracking for once in his life. “Just stay awake, Ethan,” he tells me shakily. “Don’t go to sleep. They’ll get here soon.”

“Am I part of your club now?” I joke. He was a million times more popular than me, and he wouldn’t have given me the time of day before. He wouldn’t have fought armed goons for me, either. I guess we all did a lot of things we didn’t expect to.

“You’re the freaking club president,” he tells me. “So don’t die on me now.”

Jess doesn’t say a word, but her expression looks grim. It’s out of my hands now, and out of hers, too.

“It was worth it,” I mumble as the world blurs into nothingness. My life, for the life of this boy and this girl. All worth it . . .

--

My name is Ethan MacKenna, and I remember this rooftop.

It wasn’t me who was here before. It was someone named Ethan Wilson. He liked rap, and hated spinach, and had a scar on his left shoulder that he never let anyone see. But he was on this rooftop, and Baldwin--another Baldwin?--shot him, and he died.

I hesitate, and Jess rushes forward. The first bullet hits her in the throat.

Running back down the staircase, waiting for the gas to flood the city, I wonder where it all went wrong.

--

My name is Ethan Sanford, and for once in my life, I have a plan.

I’m already on the roof when Baldwin comes out the door. I’m not strong, but neither is he, and I manage to overpower him. Now the gun is in my hands, aimed squarely at his head.

“Don’t move,” I warn him.

He calls my bluff, or so he thinks. But I remember what another Baldwin did to another Jess, and that’s enough for me to fire.

--

My name is Ethan Grumbacher, and I have a different plan.

I don’t remember what happened after Ethan Sanford left the rooftop. Did he win? Did he somehow die? So I’m going to avoid that confrontation at all. I’m going up to the roof early, and I’m going to perform some calculated sabotage on Baldwin’s machine. Worst comes to worst, I’ll botch it up and overdose on neurotoxins. It’s not like the universe will punish me for getting killed ahead of schedule, right?

--

My name is Densuke “Ethan” Mifune, and I’ve been asked to join some kind of “Eiken club.” I have the feeling the other Ethans aren’t going to want to remember this time around.

--

My name is Ethan Blanchard, and I hate every one of these fuckers.

I’m not going to stop Baldwin. In fact, I’ll release his gas ahead of schedule. I’ll watch as the bastards around me tear each other apart with their teeth.

Let the games begin. My move first.

--

My name is Ethan Silverman, and I remember everything Ethan Blanchard did.

Maybe there will be Ethans like that sometimes. Maybe some cities will end in fire. But not now. Not today.

I’m ready for you, Baldwin. Things won’t go your way this time.

--

My name is Ethan Trueheart, and I’ve loved Robby since we were eight years old.

That’s not usually true. A lot of Ethans didn’t even know Robby that well. Some of them love Jess, for reasons I’ll never understand despite remembering them. But I thought Robby was the coolest boy on the face of the planet, and then he grew up a little, and he got too cool--and too bigheaded--to remember me.

I wait until we’re on the roof after stopping Baldwin. Things seem to end there, win or lose. So there won’t be much time for me to be embarrassed if I go down in flames.

I had some kind of plan for how to do this. But I get caught up in the moment, and I kiss him full on the mouth instead.

He kisses me back, just before my memories end.

--

My name is Ethan Zabrosky, and her name is Jess. Just Jess. She remembers Jess Cole and Jess Ramsdale and Jess Fogarty, and she says they’re all Jess, all one.

I can see why each Jess would need to believe it. Their pasts are quite varied, and honestly, most of them were miserable in different ways. So they latch onto the few things that are always the same, and call those the things that are real.

As for me, I’m always an Ethan. But I’m fine with being separate Ethans. We live, and we die, or else the story plays out to its end. Then we start again, with another day, and another Ethan.

--

My name is Ethan Farrow, and I’m content with my life.

I don’t know what happens when I escape the rooftop. Does the world end there, like a tape run to its end? Does the quintessential Ethan leave that world for another, leaving behind some Ethan-less husk? Or does it continue into a future I never remember?

I don’t really care. I’m today’s Ethan, and I have twenty-four hours left. So what will I do today?

[violethowler]

The Greater Your Shadow Becomes

A recurring pattern in the Kingdom Hearts series is how often it misleads and misdirects us. We are told that Nobodies do not have hearts only to learn several games later that this was a lie. Our knowledge of Xehanort’s backstory has changed from one game to the next. The series itself even acknowledges its dishonesty, with the Master of Masters telling Young Xehanort that “the truth is what you see with your eyes, not what you hear[1],” while explaining that anything he says about his motivation and identity should not be trusted. 

So despite Kingdom Hearts III, Back Cover, and Union X appearing to position the Master of Masters as the next main antagonist, I remain suspicious that the role the series seems to be setting him up for will ultimately be filled by another. A big part of this has to do with the patterns I have noticed among stories that follow the Heroine’s Journey. 

In a Heroine’s Journey where there is a direct antagonist whose actions must be overcome in order to resolve the story’s conflict, that antagonist has commonly been presented as a narrative foil to either the protagonist or their Animus. In storytelling, a Foil is one character who is contrasted with another in order to highlight the other’s traits[2]. Most stories will emphasize the protagonist’s noble qualities by contrasting them with a character with similar personality traits or a similar backstory but who lacks the qualities that make the protagonist heroic. More often than not, these literary foils function as Shadow figures to the protagonist, and in many cases embody the negative elements of the story’s main themes.

For example, Gaston is put on a pedestal by the people around him as a paragon of what their society considers desirable. He’s handsome, skilled, and charismatic. Yet he constantly disrespects Belle’s agency and intelligence, not caring whether she’s willing to marry him or not. This positions him as a foil to the Beast, who is rude, monstrous, and has to learn how to perform basic tasks like eating with silverware. Despite his gruff exterior, he respects Belle’s intelligence and agency, holding her to the terms of their deal while also growing to prioritize her happiness above his own desires. 

Something that the overarching antagonists of every Heroine’s Journey I know of all have in common is that the audience is made aware of their existence very early on in the story. Their motivations may change over the course of the story, and when we learn about their goals can vary, but we generally learn of their existence before the end of the first act. 

We meet Gaston in the opening musical number of Beauty and the Beast. 

Dr. Facilier from The Princess and the Frog also makes his first appearance in the opening musical number of his film. 

President Snow gets at least a mention in the background in the first book of the Hunger Games trilogy even if Katniss doesn’t meet him face to face until the second one. 

High Priestess Haggar is introduced in the first (technically second) episode of Voltron: Legendary Defender Season 1. 

Meanwhile, the Master of Masters was only introduced near the end of Act II in the overarching narrative of Kingdom Hearts. Likewise, his goals are still unclear, in contrast to other Heroine’s Journey antagonists whose objectives are given to the audience at some point during the second act. So unless he turns out to be a familiar face under the hood, I find it unlikely that the Master of Masters will be the main antagonist of the next act. He’ll certainly play an antagonistic role, and definitely a major one, but everything I know about story structure is telling me that the “Big Bad” of the next arc is ultimately going to be someone else. 

The repeated emphasis on prophecy, fate, and destiny in Act II of the series creates a strong undercurrent of defying fate being a major theme of the final arc of the Kingdom Hearts story. Sora’s ability to connect with others has enabled him to pull off feats that should be considered impossible up to the point of rewriting the fated defeat of the Guardians of Light at the Keyblade Graveyard in Kingdom Hearts III. So it stands to reason that the main antagonist of the final act will be a character who either tries to defy fate in a negative way, or a character who does things because fate dictates it be done. 

So the major antagonist of Act III will most likely be someone who expresses the themes of fate and whether to defy or accept it in a negative way. Someone who serves as a foil to Sora. And someone who was introduced to the audience during Act I - meaning the original game, Chain of Memories, or Kingdom Hearts II. Given the amount of focus he has received since his introduction and how important Kingdom Hearts III revealed him to be in the lore of the series, there’s really only one person who qualifies: 

[Image Description: Luxu stares at the camera after taking off his hood in front of the Foretellers, revealing the face of Xigbar. End Description.]

As someone noted after the release of KH3, there are many similarities between Luxu and Sora when you sit down and think about it[3]:

Back Cover portrays Luxu as a young teen curious about the world, just like Sora. 

Much like how wanting to be with his friends is shown to be one of Sora’s major motivations, Luxu’s Secret Reports in Kingdom Hearts III portray him as wanting nothing more than to be with the people he cares about[4].

Both of them take up these cosmically significant roles with no idea of what lies ahead for them - all the pain, separation, and loss. But they cannot stop or rest and go home until they finish their task because people are counting on them. 

Where the two diverge is in their circumstances and how they reacted:

While Sora stumbled onto the mantle of a Keyblade wielder by accident and chose the responsibilities that came with his mission on his own, Luxu was given his by the Master as part of a greater purpose, and he carried out that role at his mentor’s instruction. 

Both of them hide their pain and weariness under a playful façade. 

Sora has spent his journey in the company of his friends and has relied on their support. Luxu has always been alone, relying only on himself. 

Sora holds onto his connections with others even at significant cost to himself, while Luxu casts aside his bonds and puts his mission above all else.

In addition to his narrative connections to Sora, there is also his connection to Riku as well. 

The scene where he reveals his face to the audience for the first time in Kingdom Hearts II begins with Sora initially mistaking him for Riku. 

In Kingdom Hearts III, he’s paired with Dark Riku at the Skein of Severance, a combination that stands out in contrast to the obvious narrative meanings behind the choices of the other boss groupings in the Keyblade Graveyard. 

Series producer Shinji Hasmimoto has said that Sora and Riku are the core of the story[5], so it would make sense, then, if the primary antagonist of the final act is someone with already established narrative connections to both characters. 

Tetsuya Nomura had the end of the Dark Seeker Saga outlined since Kingdom Hearts II was finishing development[6]. This indicates that everything done with Xigbar across the entire series was planned with the Luxu reveal in mind. The fact that he chose to give Xigbar such a significant part and planned it that far in advance signals that our dear Number II has a major role in the overall narrative of the series. Between the implications of the reveal setting him up as a foil for Sora and the patterns exhibited by major antagonists of other Heroine’s Journeys, I’m confident that role will likely be that of the overall villain of Act III. 

There is always the possibility that I could be wrong and that the Master of Masters will be the primary antagonist of the story’s final act. His influence of others and his writing of the Book of Prophecies appear to set him up as the author of our characters’ fates, which satisfied the narrative pattern of the antagonist reflecting the negative side of one of the story’s themes. 

However, as I said, he was introduced much later in the narrative than is common for the overarching antagonist of a Heroine's Journey. I also have my doubts that it will be that obvious, as Kingdom Hearts has pulled that kind of bait and switch before. The first game initially sets up Maleficent as the main antagonist, only for Ansem to step out of the shadows and take the stage as the Big Bad for the remainder of the game after her defeat. Given how many parallels to the first game are found throughout Kingdom Hearts III, Xigbar being unmasked as Luxu and the information that came with it in the Secret Reports have the makings of an excellent parallel to that switch on a series-wide scale.

Sources:

[1] Kingdom Hearts III Re: Mind; Square Enix; 2020. 

[2] Foil (fiction) - Wikipedia.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foil_(fiction)

[3] Galaxy Brain Take: Luxu and Sora Parallels; February 12, 2019. https://strangefellows.tumblr.com/post/182774246545/galaxy-brain-kh3-take-luxu-and-sora-parallels

[4] Kingdom Hearts III; Square Enix; 2019. (Secret Report #13: Observations, Excerpt 3)

[5] “How Kingdom Hearts III Will Grow Up With Its Players.” September 24, 2013 https://www.ign.com/articles/2013/09/25/how-kingdom-hearts-iii-will-grow-up-with-its-players.

[6] “Kingdom Hearts III Ultimania interview with Tetsuya Nomura”; March 12, 2019 https://www.khinsider.com/news/Kingdom-Hearts-3-Ultimania-Main-Nomura-Interview-Translated-14763

[greengrungeemo]

Higurashi Character Analysis - Onikakushi

I completed it! Higurashi Chapter 1 complete! Such a fulfilling story arc. Before moving onto Chapter 2 - Watanagashi fully, I’ll provide some insight to each of the characters, the purpose and roles they fill, and how I find it wraps things up brilliantly as a prologue or introductory chapter. While Keiichi is the main protagonist, I’ll begin with the other characters first to emphasize the varying points. This post may contain spoilers!

Rena

Rena Ryuugu is one of the main characters in the group. She is known as the excitable type of girl, who aims to experience her life with anything and everything that is “kyuuute!” As a result of this, she seems to be hoarding a ludicrous amount of objects that can fall under *her* umbrella term of “cute”. Her home is layered with statues and mailboxes and signs and overall what would be deemed as “junk” to most. She views them as treasures. She is also willing to capture cute people and bring them to her home. She suffers from a few disorders, but one unmentioned disorder she could be suffering from is a hoarding disorder due to the sheer expanse of her collection (and never-ending desire to hoard cute objects!) A sad reality, but is this to fill some sort of gap in her life? Which gap in particular? Well, for one, she exhibited violent and aggressive behavior at her old school, she claims due to a curse. It makes you wonder, what goes on in her mind? For instance, when Rena is home alone, what sort of activities does she do? We know for certain she cooks great meals, which can take a big chunk of her time, what else? My personal theory is that she simply stares into all of her cute possessions in her room, and thinks. Thinks about what? Thinks about her friends, Keiichi in particular, thinks about the potential cute things she can collect, but overall, she thinks about her never-ending hunger for romance. The cute possessions in her life is to fill her desire for a loving mate and companion. It is clear through her expressions, reactions, and mannerisms that she is fondly interested in Keiichi, so until that is satisfied, she will continue this behavior. She is also known for her unmatched unarmed combat skills, being able to instantly disarm or dispatch any foe with one or more punches - exemplified further when she is in her “kyuuute” mode.

Mion

Mion Sonozaki is my all-time favorite character in Higurashi! She reminds me of one of my friends who was a girl - who sadly passed away recently - because she was a full representation of a leader. Mion represents leadership and a competitive nature. She’s way too cool, definitely a best friend I would want in my life! She has charisma that can rally a group easily together, so much that she is the one responsible for setting up the activities or events. She is also reflective of a model of leadership due in part to how she responds to the group, you can tell that the baggage of her friends is often on her own shoulders. When Keiichi was “acting up with a bat”, she emphasized the point that he is “scaring everyone”. A clear sign she looks out for the feelings and emotions of those around her on the inside, even though she displays a portrayal of ruthless bravado on the outside! She synergizes quite well with the group, especially Keiichi, due to their love for competition and identical style of humor. They both enjoy rubbing it in, making snarky remarks, and how she often refers to herself as an “old man” shows how easy-going and open-minded she is. She seldom expresses herself as a “serious” type, unless it’s with strong regards or urgency about her friends. Therefore, she doesn’t seem to express “serious” emotions too much, which masquerades her crush for Keiichi perfectly. Their synergy is so strong, combined with her love for teasing or feeling dominant in situations, meshes the two so well. It’s a no-brainer she considers him a possible love interest. The combined responsibilities as well as her hidden love for someone adds a great burden on her shoulders that she tends to conceal elegantly.

Satoko

Hojo Satoko is most well-known as the “trapper” of the group. Brilliant-minded in planning, devising, and retroactively setting up traps to whomever she wishes to feel dominant over. She absolutely aims for anything regarding that rush or feeling of dominance and power, that she uses any means necessary for it. That being said, when the opposite happens, she has counteractive measures like cutely crying or vocally presenting how cruel the person is. This instantly synergizes Satoko perfectly with Rena - the obsessor of cute things and people. Rena feels jubilation every time she sees Satoko express any type of cute emotion, even crying fits with how it appears like Rena’s own child to take care of. Therefore, since Satoko has a constant desire for dominance, she knows to use Rena to her advantage, knowing how capable Rena is with her combat capabilities. She may be small, and may appear frail, but she has countless weapons to her disposal. This makes her a force to be reckoned with.

Rika

Rika Furude is known as the cutest, smallest girl in the group. Everyone loves Rika! Despite her cute outwardly appearance, she is incredibly intelligent, wise, and can be both playful or serious at her whim. She understands when to use her cuteness to take advantage of any situation, and she is well-disciplined in that she is obedient and calm. Still, this does not fully prevent her from being mischievous, especially towards Keiichi. Any time that Keiichi succeeds in a remark or event towards his opponent, such as Satoko, Rika is sure to retort back in a guilt-tripping or intelligent way in defense of her best friend. This alone displays pure synergy between the two small girls, reinforced further by the fact that the two of them live together without parents. They look out for each other by nature, so this is shown in their dialogue, too. It is clear that Rika is substantial in Himanizawa, as she has a shrine dawning her last name, the Furude Shrine. This bestows her as a highly-valued figure in the town, as she possesses a clear status and place in it. Later, it is clearly confirmed when she fulfills the role of a Shrine Maiden for the Watanagashi Festival. With such a status, it is important to note her immense underlying power that she seems to hide so well.

Tomitake and His Mystery Woman

Tomitake Jiro is most known for his love for photography of bird. He visits Himanizawa a few times a year to capture photos of the area and to attend the Watanagashi Festival event. It is clear with how he interacts that he has a good heart and always wishes for the best to all those around him. This is evidently clear in how he spends time with the main group at the festival, and aims to win the teddy bear prize for Rena. He is good-natured, and does his best to keep those around him happy. He is also open-minded in how he performed varying activities with a younger group, and accepted his punishment without complaint when he failed the club’s activity. He carries zero evil within him, that much is clear.

The Mystery Woman with him however, she carries a perplexing nature and aura around her. The way she smiles and responds to Keiichi’s comments is far too suspicious, instantly giving anyone the vibe that Tomitake could be in trouble - since the two of them seem to have a love interest in one another - this is reinforced further by what happens in the chapter. Her caricature looks of that of a mastermind, a deceiver, a manipulator. She possesses the “evil eyes”. She carries every evil within her, that much is clear. She is clearly the perpetrator to an underlying mystery, the causal factor, the antagonist. It is psychologically and literally - written all over her face.

Keiichi

Keiichi Maebara is the main protagonist of this chapter. The main focus. Unfortunately, he also carries the most burden in his newfound life in Himanizawa, being an exchange student. He is the only male in his group of female friends, and he exerts a competitive and overall “male” nature. He can be hot-headed, boisterous, confident, friendly, and... unfortunately, very delusional. Eventually, he suffers from great delusions that another classmate had suffered from, who “transferred out.” Keiichi suffers a huge weight on his shoulders due to his sudden involvement with the police, namely Oishi Kuraudo, since the events after the Watanagashi Festival put his friends in a bad spotlight. This sparks the discourse. A suddenly split in everyone’s roles in the story. Keiichi’s unquenchable desire to learn the truth, combined with the direct correlations his own friends have in the many mysteries in Himanizawa and the curse, it drives him mad. He cannot emotionally handle being caught between the police and the people he loves and cares about, it is far too much pressure for him. This leads him to make very, very bad decisions. Her distances himself from his friends, he displays paranoia and delusions (both auditory and visual). This makes him “react” badly in any circumstance, even where ones should be concerning. For instance, when he wanted to mask his household as his parents being home when they were on a business trip to Tokyo, when Rena arrived with her delicious food, he should have done the following: 1) Let her in. 2) Inform her he needs to finish up a phone call. 3) Rush over to the phone and inform Oishi, “Sorry, I have to go, my friend Rena is here! Bye.” 4) Enjoy dinner with Rena in the dining room as normal. This would not have triggered anything, this would not have forced a response from Rena. Keiichi lies directly to his friends, and his friends pick up on it quite easily, this causes the divide and mistrust. Another instance with Rena, when walking home together and asking Rena is she’s hiding any secrets, when she replied with, “Well, are you hiding any secrets?” He should have answered “Yes”, but in a sincere tone of voice, he should have explained he doesn’t know what to do since he was confronted by the police, and doesn’t want to put his friends at risk of investigation. Being forthcoming, as well as portraying the need for advice from his friend, would have prevented any “creepy” or “scary” reaction from Rena. One could argue that this wouldn’t have pushed the evidence of sketchy behavior, but in truth, that’s what Keiichi wants deep down. He wants to be able to simply go to school, and have fun with his friends, not to investigate things he should not have gotten involved with. It would have prevented his delusional behavior since he wouldn’t notice any disconnect from his friend group, and it would have undoubtedly prevented him any harm from his friends, since they would deem him as trustworthy. Unless... it really is a curse?

Either way, from Mion’s genuine and saddened expression when Keiichi exploded on her, that alone proves to me that she had the fullest of love and trust in him, and when he denounced her and her group of friends, that’s what pushed her over the edge. He pushed himself in that situation from his bad decisions, understandably, it isn’t his fault either.

[eunahfmdarchive]

so-so - full lyrics credit, full composition credit, full production credit. date: january 2021-ish. word count: 1,813, not including lyrics. as per usual, this sucks <3 but also it was kind of fun. did i write it well? no, but it was fun. uHH don’t bother reading this, and beth i’m really sorry that you have to. CW: very brief mentions of sex.

what’s her sound? eunah laments over the question for a long time. is it problematic for her to investigate her musical identity so closely? does it make what she writes less sincere? or on the contrary, does it make the end product more thoroughly thoughtful? last year, eunah spent a lot of time questioning her style of songwriting. it mostly came as a result of appearing on our songs, where the different assignments pushed her out of her comfort zone. and since then, the music she writes has become more varied. even so, eunah feels an urge to return to her roots, to write something with more theatrical leanings. over the last year, she’s become a lot more concerned with writing songs that will sell, trapping herself within walls of dimensions entertainment’s design.

it would be nice to write something just for her, for a change.

rather than settling down in front of her piano with her notebook to write another generic love song, eunah decides that, for once, she wants to be as honest as she can in what she creates, instead of dressing up her feelings inside of another song for dimensions’ approval. 

it’s not like nobody’s good enough for me i just don’t quite feel like it i meet guys once or twice or maybe a few days but the awkwardness is always there

when it comes to romance, the last couple of years have been ... interesting for eunah. she’s happy where she is right now, contented in her singleness, but things haven’t always been that way for her. only a handful of weeks ago, she was seeing someone, and entertaining the idea of making it official. a lot of boys have come and gone with surprising fleetingness, all of them usually inspiring a song or three. nowadays though, when she thinks back on them and their relationships, she doesn’t feel much. she remembers their dates and kisses in a largely neutral fashion, and finds that, even without those guys by her side, she feels just fine. it’s sort of disheartening to realise that maybe she’s still the girl she was three or so years ago, back when she was so much more emotionally distant. she doesn’t seem to be able to make any romantic relationship last. or maybe, it’s just that she’s become less dependent on others. maybe, she’s more independent than she thought. she’d like to fall in love for real one day, to let go of her inhibitions completely and feel freely, but the idea of that is scary as well. as happy as she is right now, maybe it’s safer for her to maintain a certain amount of distance in her romantic affairs. perhaps this is just the way she loves -- neutrally, carefully, awkwardly, but sincerely.

she still isn’t confident enough to have sex with the lights on. 

no matter who i meet so-so being alone is just so-so not so exciting but not all that bad (so-so) i’m starting to forget what love is supposed to be like i can’t even remember

though i’m jealous of couples (how lucky) i’m not that lonely being alone (it’s quite alright) my phone never rings and I’m free on weekends the only thing i hate is myself in front of the tv

so-so is just the right way to express it. the song, she realises, isn’t just only for herself in the context of thinking too hard about what the company wants, but it’s taking back at least some of her creative agency from her exes. she loved them, truly, but it’s freeing to write as eunah -- just eunah, rather than a version of herself connected to someone else. 

there’s a desire for companionship underlying it all. that’s unavoidable. people are desperate to rid themselves of loneliness more than anything else, she thinks. but eunah isn’t lonely. being alone isn’t an issue for her, but non-action is. the image of herself reflected back at her on a darkened television screen makes her wrinkle her nose. it makes her feel like she isn’t being productive, or that at the very least there should be someone sitting next to her, arm thrown around her shoulder. or, when she sees herself on the screen, singing about love, or, more recently, acting in love. is it normal to feel jealous of her on screen self? maybe.

but there’s no prince and princess ending for hong seol either. that’s a refreshing aspect of the show, of the character. 

she supposes though, that that’s part of her motivations too. if she isn’t attached to someone in her personal life, she’s attached to someone else via her profession ... she likes that, she thinks, the ability to slip into a second skin. she likes the time she has alone too, though. 

once again, everything is just so-so.

the lyrics come together easily enough, a rare blessing for someone like her, who usually pieces scraps of sentences together for weeks until she finds an order that she likes, habitually swapping things around at the last possible chance, ten minutes before stepping into a recording booth. with the actual music itself, eunah’s a lot less finicky and fickle. sitting in front of her piano, eunah thinks about let me in -- she’s come a long, long way since then, but she’s still that girl. she spent a lot of time trying to recover a previous version of eunah, but she came to the conclusion, eventually, that she’s not going to be able to go back there. she’s changed, and that’s okay. maybe this won’t be the song to show her progress through its lyrics, but she thinks it could be a song to call back to let me in in a stylistic sense. a song with a musical sort of tone. 

it’s a self indulgent decision to return to her roots, in much the same way that choosing to write an uninterested, bored-with-love love song was in the first place. the songs she’s written most recently have taken her out of her comfort zone. dancing cartoon, count you out, painting and seattle alone all forced her to use a little more brain power than she’d usually put into coming up with melodies, and twice as much brain power again for the ones she produced for. eunah doesn’t consider herself to be that good at production yet, so she focuses on making a type of song that she could hopefully work with easily. eunah’s hands pause atop the keys of her piano. she wasn’t sure at what stage she’d mentally committed to producing the song herself as well, but she apparently had. 

her progress on the song is quicker than usual. writing this song -- she thinks she’ll call it so-so after all -- isn’t as strenuous as writing some of her others. eunah’s never been the type to believe that a song’s worth directly equates to the amount of blood, sweat, and tears shed in the process of making it. in fact, she finds it relaxing, as she constructs a mid-tempo, largely cheery tune for her lyrics. the melody still turns somber at some points, to fit the more contemplative parts of the lyrics, but the music quickly picks up again for the chorus. she wants the song to really be something that highlights her voice and her abilities. the music, she decides, will ultimately be an accompaniment in a very true sense. a lot of the songs idols put out nowadays have instrumental heavy choruses rather than vocally focused ones. it doesn’t even stop there, extending to pop songs from overseas too. eunah doesn’t mind that to listen to, or to perform in 7rophy, but she doesn’t think that she could pull off something like that by herself. 

when she pushes back from her piano, all of her notes scribbled down messily across a handful of pages, eunah breathes out a tired sigh -- tired, yes. sad? frustrated? no, quite the opposite. she hums her new song to herself as she drifts off to sleep.

once the melody is pinned down and she records the vocals, eunah plants herself squarely in her studio at dimensions headquarters, essentially living out of there for a handful of days and leaving crys’ care to her roommate. it’s not officially her studio or anything, but it’s the one she uses nine times out of ten that she needs somewhere to work on her music. she’s grateful for the space, and for the agency she has over her solo music. she knows, however, if the finished product isn’t what dimensions want, they’ll make whatever edits they want. that’s why this stage, the final one, is so important. she’s busy these days with press junkets and promotional material for cheese in the trap, and this is the first chance she’s really had to toy around with the song’s production properly. there were moments that eunah could have stolen before, but she wanted to wait for a time in her schedule when she was able to consistently work on it. she’s made some amendments to the tune and lyrics since, the last of which happened right before recording the version of her vocals that she went with. she realised after how the lyrics might be read or interpreted more sadly than she initially intended them to come across. she leans into it though, pleased to see her song taking on somewhat of a life of its own. with that in mind, recording went smoothly.

it is sad, she ultimately agrees, even as she arranges the background instrumentals in a decidedly happy leaning order. acting through her voice is something eunah has always prided herself on. it’s her strongest skill -- some would probably say it’s her only skill. if that really is the case, eunah thinks that it’s a fine skill to have, if she can really only have one. it’s a good thing too, because after countless edits and a spread of versions with only slight differences for her to choose from, the one that eunah likes best is the one where her voice does most of the work. the arrangement of the instruments isn’t particularly interesting or unique, but it’s pretty and listenable, and does exactly the job she wanted it to. it’s a perfect accompaniment for her voice, climbing in just the right spots to support her belts, and lulling into silence just after her vocals softly peter out. there’s backing vocals added throughout, layers of her own voice propping her primary self up, appearing in just the right places as echoed confirmations of the lyrics’ lamentations. eunah likes a song that comes with all the bells and whistles as much as the next musical theatre fan (professional? she supposes she is) or noise music performing idol, but she think a song like this is what suits her best. though she set out on a well-intentioned but always doomed quest to define her style by returning to her roots and making something theatrical, she ended up with something simple. something that, in its difficulty level, might be described by its own title -- so-so. maybe she’s just less dramatic nowadays. her emotions have definitely been reined in, in a good way; in a manageable way. worrying about her music’s sincerity won’t get her anywhere.

and anyways, it’s fine, she thinks, for me to be so-so about things. i spent too long losing myself to my emotions already. eunah figures that, to some extent, life is good if life is boring. submitting it with a slight, but satisfied smile, eunah can only hope that the title isn’t predictive of the song’s reception.