#imagine if video game writers respected women

[alethiometry]

damn they really didn't know what to do with tetra for like the 2nd half of the game huh

[gartenofbanny]

You all know what time it is, time for the review for the most hyped up episode since The Circus!

The Good

Vortex

Vortex, as always is the best character in every episode he's in. As always he's pretty chill and nice around Loona treating her like a person and he's really nice with his girlfriend Beelzebub. There is one scene of Beelzebub talking about fucking Satan despite the fact that she views him as a brother and Vortex just doesn't say anything..and lets Beelzebub say it.

This is honestly reminding me a little bit of Rent a Girlfriend, I really fucking hope they don't make Vortex into a cuck because that'll make me lose respect from the writers and Beelzebub. Not so much Vortex because idk what the hell he's even going to do against Satan when he finds out Beelzebub sleeps with him. The most he could do is leave Beelzebub.

Gluttony Ring

The Gluttony Ring looked pretty creative, it's my 2nd favorite one behind Wrath Ring. Why is it my second favorite? Because the atmosphere and the setting a little bit looks more like Earth than it does Hell. And the location where they're at just looks like a bee-themed tropical beach instead of fucking Hell. This is probably the last thing I would think of when I think of "Gluttony Ring in Hell". It's pretty, but it isn't something I'd imagine that Hell would have. Also, why is it that some places in Hell look fucking disastrous but other places in Hell look like oasis? Is this supposed to be a place where Sinners suffer or just Earth 2.0? We don't know and Viv doesn't either.

Animation

The animation in this episode is pretty solid and looks good which is expected for a Helluva Boss episode, but there are some times when I find the animation to be really weird.

In the beginning of the episode, it shows Demons partying, but doesn't show their full appearances just silhouettes.

And in the same timeframe, Loona and Tex outside has different shading, but once they're inside the shading instantly changes and they have thick black lines around their body. Making their characters not fit with the background. And all this shit happens in the first 47 seconds of the episode, holy shit.

Viv did say that this episode was supposed to be "A grand visual spectacle" but the only grand visual spectacle was the Cotton Candy song which took a significant chunk of time from an insignificant episode.

Yeah, there's not much I actually liked in this episode, so let's move on to the bad.

The Bad

Beelzebub's Design

I don't have any problem with Beelzebub personality-wise. She's cool and surprisingly nice for one of the Seven Princes of Hell. Vortex really does have good taste in women..aside from her wanting to fuck Satan. But I can dismiss that as a joke and pray to God that it doesn't actually happen.

But what I do not like about Beelzebub is her design which I know damn well the animators didn't get paid enough for animating this.

Nothing from this design tells me that this is Beelzebub. I was completely confused on whether or not this woman was Beelzebub until I saw the credits. Beelzebub is depicted in Demonology as an insect, not a hellhound variant. A lot of people and I assumed that Beelzebub was going to be a bee due to the Bee Aesthetic in Gluttony, but we just got Jay Jay recolored and with four arms with miniscule insect aspects.

The second reason why I hate this design is because it's not creative at all. This design without a doubt was heavily inspired by Jay Jay, but it wasn't just heavily inspired it's literally copied and pasted. They copied Jay Jay, gave her Loona's legs, recolored her, added so many unnecessary details, and called her Beelzebub. Looking at Beelzebub and the other furry characters that Viv designed in her past you can see that there's little to no difference between them.

Beezlebub's design reminds me of how video game characters have alternate skins because her design is literally Jay Jay but recolored and with added cosmetics.

Or how in Injustice: Gods Among Us the yellow costume for The Flash is Reverse Flash but he still looks identical to the regular Flash. So different personality, but the same skin just recolored.

My third reason why I don't like the design is that Beelzebub's insect features are so miniscule that you can easily miss them. The only insect like features she has are the bee wings, four arms, and antennae in her eyelids and ears. Aside from those, there's nothing else. Now when she increases her size, Beelzebub does have bug like eyes but again that doesn't really say much.

My fourth and final reason why I don't like the design is that Beelzebub has so many unnecessary additions to her design that it looks pretty overwhelming but at the same time distracting. What was the point of giving her a lava lamp stomach? What was the point of having honey levitate from behind her? Why is her fucking eyeliner dripped as if she cried? I'm most likely going to do a design comparison with another iteration of Beelzebub, but yeah those are just my thoughts on her design overall. It's lazy, but also somehow overcomplicated.

It would fit more if they made her into Cerberus instead of Beelzebub as Cerberus is a three-headed hellhound in the Gluttony Ring of Hell that likes to consume a lot. This design is more fitting for that to me.

Kesha voicing Beelzebub

Kesha voicing Beelzebub was a weird and bad choice not because of Die Young, but because Beelzebub represents what Kesha was running away from in her past. For those who don't know Kesha had a persona called Ke$ha who she describes as a "front for her emotional pain". And there are a few things that conclude to me why Beelzebub and the persona Ke$ha are nearly identical. They both overindulge in partying and drinking since Beelzebub represents overindulgence in those two things and many other things, but that was a really toxic lifestyle for Kesha to go through. There are two differences between the two characters that being Beelzebub also overindulges in eating but Kesha in the past had an eating disorder. She couldn't indulge in eating because as she says "I convinced myself that being sick, being skinny, was part of my job" and having Beelzebub a character who can overindulge in eating but still manages to stay skinny and thin is insensitive and unrealistic. The second difference is Kesha had to go to rehab in order to stay away from all of that and most likely doesn't partake in those anymore while Beelzebub doesn't have to.

Simply put Beelzebub represents the persona Ke$ha and not the person, the same persona that Kesha used to mask her emotional pain and had to go to rehab to fix. I am fully aware that Kesha is an adult and she can make her own decisions, but having someone voice act a character who represents the persona they had in the past is really absurd and stupid, especially on Viv's part.

It's likely that Beelzebub will never appear again or will have a different voice actor. Because Kesha being involved caused legal issues that took almost two years to resolve. If Beelzebub does return then I think she'll be voice acted by her singing voice actor Rochelle Diamante or someone else entirely.

Cotton Candy

After listening to the Cotton Candy song multiple times, I've come to the conclusion that this song is ass. It's not even intentionally trying to be bad either that's the worse and funnier part about it. The words "Cotton Candy" takes up 1/3 of the song, there's an entire video called "Cotton Candy, but only when they say Cotton Candy" and it's 1 minute long.

My problem isn't with the singing the singer behind this is fantastic, but my main problem with this song is the lyrics and beat. This song sounds like a bootleg version of Die Young, I know that was intended by Viv but that doesn't mean the song is good. The lyrics rhyme "Cotton Candy" with "Cotton Candy" Whoever was writing this song just needs to stop.

Also, why is the song about Cotton Candy and not Honey? Beelzebub does have a bee aesthetic around her so wouldn't it make more sense to have her sing about honey. It's sweet and addictive

This video perfectly summarizes my thoughts on this song

Loona barely has a spotlight

Loona was hyped up exponentially a couple of days before this episode came out. From the voice actress stating that she'll return to voice Loona while striking a pose to a Loona plush releasing not too long ago.

While I don't believe Loona was hyped up for this episode in particular she was still hyped up regardless and this episode was assumed to be a Loona-centered episode...that is until Beelzebub. Beelzebub stole the spotlight from Loona due to her character reveal being the sparkly song it was and a lot of people liking her design due to it being flashy.

Even a couple of days after the episode's release I still see more people talking about Beelzebub than Loona, regardless of how I feel about this character Beelzebub stood out more than Loona did to me. It's amazing that Loona was sidelined in her own episode

Slight Tonal Issues

There are some tonal issues with this episode particularly in the middle and near the end. So in the middle of this episode, Loona walks out of the party wanting to leave feeling as if she didn't belong there.

When Blitzo was going to leave, she gets flirted with by some other hellhound and that's more than enough to convince her to stay. So apparently, Loona getting hit on allows her to become less insecure and more sociable. Jesus Christ

Near the end of the episode, Loona places Blitzo on his couch after pouring him some water then all of a sudden Blitzo suddenly has a sad moment saying that he'll die alone old and wrinkled.

I gotta add if you don't want to die alone then stop treating people like shit Blitzo.

But anyway, this scene really just comes out of nowhere because Blitzo didn't express any problem with what happened at Ozzie's before he went to the party. I understand he was drinking all of his pain away but it still felt weird and forced to me.

Then after Loona calls him "Dad" for the second time in this episode, Blitzo suddenly just puked for the sake of comedy...

Jesus Christ, even a filler episode has tone issues. Oh yeah, speaking of filler episode.

This episode is meaningless

This episode isn't a direct continuation of Ozzie's nor does it affect any future episodes. Viv stated that Ozzie's is the true season 1 finale and that this episode is a "grand visual spectacle"

So all of this is just meaningless and what reinforces this is Loona's behavior. Loona went from her taking care of Blitzo to even calling him dad to straight up physically and mentally abusing him just because he wanted her to be nicer to the clients. Seeing Stars takes place at least a few days after Queen Bee so there's literally no reason for Loona to even act like this.

Raises more questions than answers

This episode like all of the other ones in Helluva Boss raises more questions than answers. Hell, I'll even say that it doesn't even answer any of the questions I had. Beelzebub can literally make food from nowhere, so what's even the point of Wrath? Why is Tex and Beelzebub dating good, but Stolas and Blitzo dating isn't? How many abilities does this Beelzebub even have? Does the food she make has any side effects on those who consume it? Like there are so many fucking questions but NONE OF THIS GETS ANSWERED.

At this point, I will be really surprised whenever one of the major questions that the fandom has actually gets answered. Because I'm getting tired of this.

Conclusion

In conclusion, this episode really meant nothing and despite it not meaning anything I didn't like it. Especially Cotton Candy, that song sucks, I don't know why they didn't use Silva Hound's "Monster Ball" it sounds leagues better than "Cotton Candy" plus it's more fitting since Demons are monsters. Anyway, thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day!

[nsfwhiphop]

Incoming Text for @JanetJackson :

Dear Janet,

I have to work, Janet! I can’t be on this blog anymore. You should also do the same and focus on your new album. We should switch off sometimes; we have to focus on our work.

Discipline is my weapon. When I work, I give all my focus to my work. I’m very disciplined, and you should understand this.

Can you imagine how you would feel if someone interrupted your studio session? This is how I feel when my readers ask me to stay on this blog—they don’t even realize that they are interrupting my studio session.

Writing screenplays is much harder work than writing songs because you have to remember so many details, so many elements in the script. It requires my entire focus. I can’t let myself be tempted by distraction. This is the price to pay if you want to write good screenplays. Focus is the main ingredient, and without focus, what do we get? We get brain-farts. That’s what they call it in Hollywood, brain-farts.

You can ask the WGA (Writers Guild of America); they will confirm it. They will tell you that mediocre screenwriters brain-fart a lot.

If you want to know more about brain-farts in screenwriters, you can read my old blog post from February. I spoke at length about brain-farts of the mediocre screenwriters in Hollywood. Here is the link to my old article, read it here: Angelo-got-game. click the link:

My dear Janet, I think you know the meaning of the word "deadline,” am I right? I have so many deadlines, I can’t spend my time on this blog anymore.

I said I would be back in September, but I lied. I will be back in September 2025, a year later. I can’t be on this blog anymore.

I decided to take well-deserved time off. I will focus on my books and screenwriting. As far as I’m concerned, I’m not even on planet Earth anymore. I’m suspended in time, in my own bubble. The world doesn’t even exist to me; all I do is write and sleep.

If you want to have sex with me, it will be impossible. But you can call my friend @booba. He is a French rapper. He made a deal with me to satisfy the women in my life because I can’t be with them. I have to respect the security protocols for my safety.

That is why I encourage you to have sex often with my good friend @booba. He lives in Miami and Paris. You can have a wonderful time in bed with him.

This is how you will be satisfied in bed. I’m only your spiritual husband, but @booba will do all the physical stuff. He is your physical husband.

You can also encourage the Jewish women to have sex with @booba because he is also Jewish. Booba is like the Drake of France, get it? He is black and Jewish.

My dear Janet! This is the security protocol to ensure my safety. I can’t be your physical husband. You have to be with @booba because he will be your physical husband.

I can only be your spiritual husband, get it? I’m only spiritual.

I hope you have fun with @booba. He is a good man, and he will be a gentleman with you.

Take care and don’t wait for me.

You should get to work now. I want to listen to your new album with Tyler Lyle and Pharrell. It’s gonna be epic.

We must go into creativity mode and focus on our work.

I love you, Janet! Have fun, big hugs for you.

P.S.:

Here is a music video in Japan of Booba:

Booba - 6G (Clip Officiel)

[fireemblems24]

I think is very funny on how people says that the fact that Byleth has to "choose" Edelgard (level her suppor to B, talk to her to go to Enbar) means how Byleth is their only true self in CF and not in the others because you, the player, are not given a choice to dump on Dimitri or Claude, which for me is the opposite, Byleth not needing the players input makes them have a (even though small) "character", a good example of this is when Byleth can choose SS not once but twice. If you didn't /1

caught on already, a lot of the opinions on some characters (*cough Edelgard cough*) depends entirely on how much do they self-insert in them, a lot of the most "extreme" Edelfans see Byleth's and El's relationship the love story of the century and how precius and pure F!Byleth (because M!Byleth doesn't exist) "fixes" the poor and lonely El, but if they hate Dimitri or Rhea, then Byleth should have totally "put them down like an animal". I think a lot of these issues could have totally been /2

fixed if Byleth was an actual character with a voice and personality, and not somekind of weird thing between a silent character and self-insert, I know for this to work you would need to change some things (*cough Edelgard's obsession and playerpanderism cough*) but I think those problems can be fixed with a coherent and consistent character's arc. /3

I do think it's an interesting theory that the more someone self-inserts into Byleth, the harder they lean into CF, but I'm not exactly sure that's true.

For starters, it's always F!Byleth for CF. I imagine the majority players are male, and historically men have a harder time relating to a woman character than women do men (all the "controversy" over female protagonists in traditionally male-dominated stories like superheroes or just video games in general) (and no, it's not because "woman = mysterious" and "man = simple" but because we're overexposed to male writers, directors, characters, etc . . . compared to female ones). I have a feeling if they were truly self-inserting, they'd choose the gender they self-identify as.

I also fully believe there's people self-inserting as Byleth to marry characters other than Edelgard (and my God, Dimitri fans seem equally horny to be honest).

Plus, it's just impossible to prove.

I do agree that Edelgard has a subset of extreme fans who hate on every other major character and generate arguments to support their opinions rather than looking at evidence and coming to a conclusion, but hey we all do that sometimes.

I do with Byleth was a bit more of a defined character. I'm enjoying seeing them get more voiced lines in Hopes, it's doing a lot for characterization. And Shez getting multiple sentiments you pick rather than like "yes" or "ok" is going a long way towards a self-insert having more obvious personality. I also agree that if Byleth weren't such a possible blank state people would be able to respect the choices character!Byleth is making even if it's not one they like.

Also, the people who argue CF is "good actually" for Rhea and Dimitri because you "put them down" are making a disgusting argument. You put down dogs when they're in so much pain they can't recover from. You DO NOT put down mentally ill people and act like a life with mental illness isn't worth living. I'm glad I don't see it except among the most extreme Edelgard fans.

[audreydoeskaren]

History of Chinese standing collars (part 3: post republican era)

Quick recap: I was debating with myself whether “Mandarin collar” should be a thing because standing collars throughout Chinese history looked different. I went through the Ming and Qing dynasties in part 1 and the republican era in part 2, now I’ll look at what comes after that. I numbered the styles in parts 1 and 2 but they’re only guidelines so you don’t have to remember anything.

So in this post we’ve kind of reached the end of the era where fashion consisted of a single silhouette in any given year and all hell ran loose. I’m having a lot of difficulties classifying things as Chinese or Western because the distinction is really blurred, and I also ran into problems explaining why certain historical European things looked so similar to Chinese ones so there will also be a lot of confusion. 

1950s & 60s Chinese application

Summary of 1950s fashion, mainland and others.

Because of the communist victory in the Civil War, fashion in the mainland was different to other (capitalist) areas populated by the Chinese diaspora such as Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan etc.. Let’s look at capitalist area fashion first; I’ll be referring to Hong Kong because Hong Kong was the center of cheongsam making at the time.

Collars on 50s Hong Kong cheongsam grew taller on the basis of collar style 10 but retained the rounded, tapering edge, resulting in a v shape gap down the middle that weirdly recalls collar style 6 from part 1 and part 2. It’s basically completely identical to collar style 6 but stiffened and extremely form fitting. It’s usually closed with one pankou at the base but because of westernization, 50s cheongsam often had no visible pankou----everything is closed with snap buttons, zippers or hooks and eyes/bars. An important aspect of collars of 50s and 60s Hong Kong cheongsam is that they left out the binding around the neck. All cheongsam prior to this point were bound around the exterior edge, the side closure, the slits and the collar seam (on the bodice not the collar), 50s cheongsam collars purposefully neglected the binding at the collar seam for some reasons. This makes the collar look like it’s one continuous piece of fabric with the bodice, which it isn’t. A lot of modern representation of cheongsam or any Chinese inspired clothing (in video games, books and anime etc.) do this, even if the character is from before the 1950s. It REALLY bugs me. If you are an artist or writer and designing costumes for Chinese characters prior to the 50s, please include binding/trimmings on all three seams, it’s an easy way to bump up historical accuracy. With that said, completely plain collars without any binding or trim was actually the most common. Let’s call this collar style 13.

Source here

1954 photograph of Li Lihua and Clark Gable. Collar style 13 with stiffening and no collar seam binding. You can see how firm and neck hugging the collar is, contrary to a lot of modern cheongsam collars which are saggy and loose.

The popularity of collar style 13 continued into the 60s. When the cheongsam fell out of popularity, it ceased to exist as well.

Source here

60s cheongsam with collar style 13. I’m really not a fan of the nude/light lipstick trend of the 60s, like, as a person with no lip color definition it makes me look like a potato.

Now moving on to mainland collars. In the 1950s, cheongsam with the 40s collar style 12 were still occasionally seen, but the fashionable collar shape also became taller and was similar to the Hong Kong collar style 13. Interestingly, some 50s mainland cheongsam retained the binding around the collar seam, making them look more “traditional” in a sense. However, collars both with and without collar seam binding existed and it was just a matter of personal preference.

Source here

1950s photograph of a mainland lady in cheongsam. The collar is taller and closes with one button, much like Hong Kong collars of the era, but the neck binding is present.

Aoku robe collars from the 1940s onward mostly had the 40s style low collar, although in the 50s and 60s they rose in height very slightly.

Source here

1964 poster showing a girl in aoku, the robe has a low, rounded collar.

However, garments with a standing collar became worn a lot less frequently in the 50s and 60s in both mainland and non-mainland areas, since a lot of people adopted Western fashion.

Source here

1950s photograph of a group of mainland people wearing jackets of Western construction. Some of them seem to be wearing informal military jackets, commonly known as “Mao suit” or “Zhongshan suit” nowadays, with folded collars.

Source here

1950s photograph of some women in Malaysia, some in cheongsam and some in Western New Look dresses.

Western application

I think it’s also quite important to discuss how Chinese standing collars were perceived by Western designers, because the Western fashion industry does hold a lot more power globally and also reverse influenced Chinese collar designs in the post 1960s era. So, in the 1950s and 60s Western designers thought cheongsam was really cool and produced a lot of affordable sewing patterns for their versions of cheongsam. I think this is also because pre-1950s cheongsam didn’t use the Western construction method and patterns needed to be individually drafted so it was difficult to make mass produced sewing patterns. From all the sewing patterns I have seen personally, the super tall standing collar popular in Hong Kong was not really appreciated by Western designers at all?? Western cheongsam sewing patterns all had the very low 1940s style collar, combined with an hourglass silhouette New Look bodice and skirt, looking rather anachronistic. These collars also didn’t have binding/trim around the collar seam, in line with fashionable Hong Kong cheongsam of the day. 

Source here

1950s Advance sewing pattern for cheongsam. The collar is low and has rectangular edges, something about a decade out of fashion in Hong Kong and Shanghai. No collar seam binding.

Source here

1950s Simplicity sewing pattern for cheongsam. Likewise with super low 1940s collars. Collarless cheongsam died in China in the mid 1920s, yet it lives on in the imagination of Western designers. By the way, the frog closures with a quatrefoil shape are not Chinese, I’m gonna write another post about this. I love the look in the middle it’s very glam.

1970s and later

The post 1960s era is what ultimately created the confusion around standing collars nowadays. Around this time Western and Chinese fashions started to merge and become one, and garments made completely in the historical Chinese method were more and more difficult to come by; Western construction techniques reigned supreme. 

From the 70s onward, most “Chinese collars” had the 40s rounded edge shape but were either medium low or medium height. The lack of collar seam binding persisted into the current day, which is something I kind of lament because without this binding collars easily read as Renaissance doublet... (more on that later)

I usually avoid calling any standing collars from the 1970s onward Chinese/Mandarin because 1) standing collars were never a uniquely Chinese thing to begin with 2) since cheongsam was no longer fashionable among actual Chinese people, designers who made cheongsam pulled all kinds of shenanigans without any historical precedent whatsoever. Also, since clothes with structured/stiffened standing collars stopped being a staple in the average Western person’s wardrobe, white people started calling everything with the most remote hint of a standing collar Chinese to further stir the pot, emboldened by the cultural appropriation craze of the 60s and 70s. Ok that’s very loaded, but it’s true that in the 60s and 70s there was a lot of Western clothing designs that took inspiration from other cultures without permission. Westerners could totally design and wear Chinese style clothing given that the intention is respectful and they know about the garment in question, but a lot of times the accuracy of the designs leaves much to be desired. There was also a lot of Orientalist inspiration in the 10s and 20s but the borrowing back then wasn’t so... literal. When I look at so called cheongsam sewing patterns from the 70s onward, I sometimes seriously have trouble identifying if something is meant to be Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Polynesian or any other region/culture...

I’ll just find pictures of Chinese inspired clothing from the 70s onward with a “Mandarin collar” label and point out their source of inspiration.

Source here

1972 Simplicity sewing pattern for cheongsam. It’s the same Western collar from the 50s and 60s just slightly taller. Oh and the closures used on the two designs in the middle are again likely not pankou. After the 60s, this neck design with a oval shape keyhole cutout became quite common and that persisted to the current day. Don’t know what the purpose of that was, just because you show 5 square centimeters more skin doesn’t mean your cheongsam is sexier?

Source here

The description of this 70s Simplicity pattern says “Mandarin collar” but the source of inspiration is obviously Japanese military/school uniforms, AGAIN. The collar’s height and rectangular edges, combined with the placement of buttons above the waist on the bodice, everything about this reads as Japanese. The frog closures on the left are once again European and not Chinese pankou (sheesh I really need to make this other post). The original designer probably meant for it to be Japanese but the seller mistakenly labelled it a Mandarin collar design. 

Source here

70s Teresa Teng (rest in power legend) in a theatrical cheongsam with a similar collar, either a stretched version of the 40s collar or a shrunk version of the 50s/60s one.

Source here

Google search result for “Mandarin collar dress”. Same Western low collar from the 70s. A new problem with modern mass produced cheongsam is that the collar oftentimes doesn’t fit the wearer and appears too baggy. Or maybe it’s not mass production, just that people nowadays are very unaccustomed to wearing tight fitting standing collars so they assume there needs to be some extra space? As someone who wears stiff standing collars on a regular basis I have to say it actually isn’t uncomfortable at all and elongates your neck a lot better. This is what most cheongsam collars nowadays look like, even the self proclaimed “traditional” ones, they literally originated from 1950s/60s Western sewing pattern companies’ interpretation of contemporary Chinese cheongsam collars.

Source here

Baidu search result for “Mandarin collar suit”. This, is, literally, almost a replica Japanese uniform. The seller is also using the tag Zhongshan suit lmao (I’ve explained in my 1950s mainland post what a Zhongshan suit is not supposed to look like), delusion is not a fragrance I guess. Why is it so hard to let Japan be Japan and China be China??

Conclusion & afterthought

Another thing I need to mention is that standing collars are by no means unique to Chinese historical dress; they were also widely used in European historical fashion, long before standing collars became worn with uniforms of “Mandarins” or Chinese officials, which further proves my point that “Mandarin collar” is not a valid term. Also, standing collars in Europe have always been stiffened/structured, whereas Chinese collars only started to become stiffened around the 1890s, possibly due to European influence as well. For example, the 1950s collar with rounded edges and no collar seam binding reads as European Renaissance doublet very easily. To be fair though, a lot of the collar shapes seen in early 20th century Chinese womenswear had been done before in European Renaissance fashion and during that time period in China only the OG Ming Dynasty collar mentioned in part 1 was used sooooooo

Source here

1630-40 English doublet. The collar looks mighty similar to 1930s Chinese women’s ones. I know next to nothing about Renaissance fashion so I’m not sure how it’s constructed, but it proves the point that collars like these were not a uniquely Chinese phenomenon.

Source here

Meanwhile the Mandarins in China. He’s wearing a crossover collar robe underneath a round collar robe, no standing collar here.

Source here

1780s French men’s coat with a standing collar.

Standing collars were also commonly used in Victorian and Edwardian women’s everyday fashion without any connection to China whatsoever.

Source here

1860s fashion plate for a gown with a low standing shirt collar peeking underneath. 

Source here

1887 fashion plate from the Journal des Demoiselles. Bustle gowns with standing collars.  

Bonus rant

I have come to the actual point of this series of posts, to answer the question: should “Mandarin collar” be a thing? In which case I’m gonna have to go with no. In the three posts I made on the topic I categorized a total of 13 collar styles, each distinct from each other and some being inspired by Western clothing, and showed that the use of the term “Mandarin collar” nowadays is very vague and ambiguous. I don’t understand why people in the fashion industry give my ancestors all the credits for a design feature as basic and common as a standing collar... Maybe it’s a marketing gimmick like how Sternhalma (a German board game) is advertised in the US as “Chinese checkers”?? Or maybe it shows that a lot of fashion designers lack a basic understanding of historical fashion? Either way it makes no sense. I think the concept is also slightly offensive since it simply ignores the diversity of actual historical Chinese standing collar designs, kind of reinforcing the racist stereotype that non-white fashion histories are static and never changing.

If I do have to pick a most traditional/iconic style of Chinese standing collar, I would go with either the original Ming Dynasty soft collar with metal buttons or the 1940s short collar with collar seam binding used on aoku, cheongsam, changshan and magua. In the mainland Chinese countryside, the 1940s style collar was preserved and actually still made today, but in the post-Mao era it became increasingly seen by the mainland population as 土 (a derogatory term for Chinese folk stuff meaning tacky or cringy) compared to the exciting new Western fashions being imported at the time. As a result, more traditional items of clothing like aoku for women, changshan and magua for men were neglected in favor of more westernized cheongsam designs, leading to some cursed contraptions.

Maybe this is a hot take, I personally really don’t vibe with the concept of 土 because it’s very loaded and usually the gateway drug to massive internalized racism. I’ve heard so many people bash aoku and magua constructed in the historical method and put post-60s Western inspired cheongsam on a pedestal even though the former is grounded in history and the latter is an Orientalist mess. There is nothing wrong with making aoqun, aoku, magua, changshan, cheongsam or any other historical item of clothing in the historically accurate method, they’re charming in their own ways and don’t need to be “modified”. In my opinion, the puckering under the armpits caused by the lack of a shoulder seam and the rounded shoulders are what makes historical Chinese clothing beautiful to begin with :3 I think there’s something inherently modern and authentic in the pedantic, antiquarian pursuit of historical clothing, like you know how whenever a revival happens it actually brings something new to the table? It’s not problematic to wear modern cheongsam designs per se, it’s just important to keep in mind that it doesn’t have much to do with actual Chinese history and represents more of the status quo of Chinese fashion nowadays.

Ok I’m going off the collar track but it’s time to finish this post. Thank you for reading, and as I mentioned, the next post will be about Chinese pankou. I’m almost finished with that one as well and I’m really excited with what I have planned next :D

[whatwillyoudodifferently]

Look, Louts! Lilies! - Yuri For A Hope-Flung Present and Hopeful Future

Look, I’ll be frank. I typically try to keep to a more formal tone when I write for this blog. I’m not in a formal mood. It is June October 2020, and I, like the rest of you, have been under quarantine for a little over three almost seven months now due to the Covid-19 virus. Throw in a eensy, teensy bit of massive political movements and change in response to police violence and racism, and an increase of police violence and racism in response to those movements, and I think it’s fair to say it’s been a tumultuous couple of months. Except, strangely, it also hasn’t been, because so much of this time has been characterized by ennui and isolation. Stressful, yet soul-numbing. In short, it’s been a very weird place to be in.

So, we’ve all found our different ways to cope. My sister’s way has been getting really into succulents(?), and my way has been buying digital manga and video games. I’ve finished stuff I’ve put off for literal years and bought stuff I had heard was good but wasn’t that hyped to get into. And somehow, the one thing I’ve really gotten into has been yuri? 

Now, yuri has a very long and rich history, as well as its own sets of conventions and nuances, so it is with a great, great, GREAT deal of respect that I say that I’m going to simplify it for this essay as “Japanese media with a particular focus on romance between women” for brevity’s sake. If you want to know more, there’s actually quite a lot that’s been written about it in English, but I’m aiming this essay at English-speakers who have had at least a little experience with yuri and more than just passing knowledge.

Because you see, I’ve found that yuri fans have a lot of things to say about yuri! And a lot of those things really bug me!! “Yuri is only fetish quasi-porn written by men,” “yuri is only bland wholesome fluff,” “yuri is only high school drama,” so on, so on. It made me mad, but it also made me realize something: a lot of people simply must not know how big this field of lilies truly is! How else can we get people saying “yuri is oversexualized” and “yuri is sexless” as gospel truth? Something’s not adding up here, guys!

So, all that is to say I’m doing something different for this blog: I’m writing up a recommendation list of yuri. A large chunk of it will be stuff I’ve read and can officially give my seal of approval to, while some of them are just titles I’ve heard of that I think will interest others. All of them have been specifically chosen to counter common untrue things I’ve heard about yuri as a whole. I hope you can find at least a few things on this list that you will enjoy and help you keep your head as the encroaching darkness lurches yet a few inches closer!

1. “Yuri is all schoolgirl stuff! Where’s the sci-fi, the period pieces, the action, the fantasy?”

Otherside Picnic

What It Is: A light novel series written by Iori Miyazawa (illustrated by shirakaba). Ongoing, four volumes at time of writing. The story is being adapted into a manga by Eita Mizuno, and an anime adaptation directed by Takuya Satou will be airing in January 2021.

What It’s About: It was on her third trip to the Otherside that Sorawo Kamikoshi almost died, and it was on that same trip she was saved by an angel. Toriko Nishina is a beautiful and confident young woman who also happens to have intimate knowledge of the Otherside, a dangerous yet captivating world that Sorawo can’t help but being drawn to. Toriko convinces Sorawo to join her on her expeditions to the Otherside, fighting off bizarre creatures that have somehow been ripped out of Japanese urban legends and finding strange artifacts in order to make a little extra cash-- all the while keeping an eye out for someone dear to Toriko’s heart.

What I Think: Otherside Picnic is heavily inspired by the novel Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky and features several creatures and scenarios from ghost stories, net lore, and-- there’s no other way to put this-- creepypasta. On paper this sounds deeply unoriginal, so it’s pretty surprising that OP has an incredibly strong identity. The idea of fusing horror with a yuri love story excited me enough the moment I heard about it, so when I finally got to read it for myself, I was delighted to find that the horror elements and the romance elements are both quite strong. 

I will say that thanks to the author’s commitment to following his sources of inspiration to the letter sometimes causes him to undercut his own writing (good example: in one arc there’s an ominous train that keeps being mentioned, causing the reader to dread its arrival with each passing page, but seeing what’s on the train will inevitably fall flat in comparison to the reader’s imagination), but those moments are made up by the more original moments-- the things that are left unseen and unexplained.

The place where the story truly shines is the relationship between the two leads. Sorawo and Toriko are great characters, both incredibly charming and deeply flawed, and they achieve a great chemistry with each other right off the bat. Sorawo is a very interesting protagonist, one who turns out to have a deeply tragic past that has made her into a reclusive, somewhat selfish young woman. What’s great is that Toriko, vivacious and confident, everything Sorawo isn’t, accepts this part of her, in a way. Toriko flat out admits she’s not looking for a particularly virtuous person to accompany her, but an “accomplice.” A big part of the appeal of OP is seeing these two “accomplices” bounce off each other, and eventually come to care about each other, all playing against a background of some genuinely spine-crawling horror. Otherside Picnic is a truly underrated series, and I deeply hope that the anime adaption next year will finally get it all the eyes it deserves (menacing phrasing very much intended).

Where To Get It: The light novels are published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores. The manga will be published by Square Enix Books starting May 2021. The anime will start airing on January 4th, 2021.

Goodbye My Rose Garden

What It Is: A manga by Dr. Pepperco. Three volumes, complete. It inspired a stage play that ran for a while in Japan, but not much information is available about it in English. 

What It’s About: Hanako has two goals: to meet Victor Franks, the mysterious author who pens the books she adores, and to become a writer herself. Despite having the mettle to travel to England on her own to pursue her dreams, she soons finds that it’s difficult for a young, unwed Japanese woman to dream in 20th century London. However, her luck seems to turn around when she meets Alice Douglas, a noblewoman who offers her a job as her maid-- as well as a surprisingly warm friendship. Alice even offers Hanako a way to meet her idol… but at the price of a horrifying request.

What I Think: In the afterword of Volume 1, Dr. Pepperco openly admits that Goodbye, My Rose Garden was the result of them trying to marry all of their favorite tropes (“Victorian maids! Loads of frills! An English family manor!” are some standout items), and this is apparent in the best way possible. GMRG is a lush period piece that will likely appeal to fans of movies like The Handmaiden and Portrait Of A Lady On Fire, with loving attention paid to details like clothes and settings. 

The relationship between Alice and Hanako is quite charming, with Alice supporting Hanako as much as she can while still taking every available opportunity to tease her, while Hanako constantly surprises Alice each time she shows her moxie and strength. It’s an adorable, sweet dynamic, yet a dark, melancholy weight lurks in the background in the form of Alice’s request-- in short, it’s a relationship that feels tailor made for me. Still, I believe this “darkness” never threatens to overwhelm the story, only enhance it in such a way that the reader will soldier on, hoping for a happy ending for our two leads. With an engaging plot and gorgeous art, this is a great manga for both longtime yuri fans and newcomers looking for an introduction to the world of yuri.

Where To Get It: Seven Seas Entertainment has translated the first two volumes, with the final one coming to English soon all three volumes into English.

Seabed

What It Is: A visual novel by paleontology, a Japanese doujin circle.

What It’s About: Mizuno Sachiko is a designer who is haunted by visions of Takako, her vivacious childhood friend and former lover. Narasaki Hibiki is a psychiatrist who wants to help Sachiko make sense of these hallucinations. Takako is… confused, trying to figure out why she keeps losing her memory and why she and Sachiko drifted apart despite being so close. Seabed is a story that spans the pasts and presents of these three women as they attempt to find and understand the truth.

What I Think: At first glance, Seabed seems simple, but it’s a bit of a hard story to explain. In a way, there isn’t much to explain-- it’s a very slow, down-to-earth story that gets almost tedious at times. I think it would be a hard sell to someone who isn’t used to visual novels, but I could imagine it being challenging even for fans. All I’ll say is this: if you give Seabed a chance, it will draw you into a surreal, gentle, melancholy tale akin to slowly sinking beneath the water of a strange, yet not unfriendly sea. For its simplicity, it’s got quite a few surprises in its long, long runtime, and any attempt to explain further will just ruin an experience that’s meant to wash over the reader over time. The only thing I’ll say is the one thing I think everyone knows: the climax will make you cry.

Where To Get It: Seabed is published in English through Fruitbat Factory and is available on Steam, Itch.io, and Nintendo Switch.

SHWD

What It Is: A manga by Sono. Ongoing.

What It’s About: Sawada is one of the few women working for the Special Hazardous Waste Disposal, and the only one in her office. But that changes when the stunningly-strong yet staggeringly-sweet Koga is hired, and the two become close in no time. Sawada trains Koga and soon the two go on their first mission to dispose of the “hazardous waste” left after a recent war… the dangerous, organic anti-human weapons known as the Dynamis.

What I Think: SHWD opens with several close-ups of Sawada’s arm muscles as she works out. I have found that page alone is sometimes enough to convince someone to read SHWD, and if not, pictures of Sawada and-- especially-- Koga are often enough to do the job. In all seriousness, what I love about SHWD can be summarized by something Sono said in an interview about the manga:

‘The first motivating force was "I want to write a yuri manga featuring strong women." I was very drawn to strong female characters by watching "PERSON of INTEREST" and "Assassin's Creed Odyssey." However, I felt that I should differentiate myself by doing something other than a "strong woman" and "weak woman" dynamic. So, I thought about coupling women with different types of strength. This is why all of the SHWD main characters are "strong women."’

It’s a mindset I love a lot. Koga is remarkably strong in a physical sense, but her mental fortitude is fragile due to her past experiences with the Dynamis, and as such, it’s Sawada who uses her immense mental strength to support her. Indeed, every character in SHWD so far bears intense trauma born of the Dynamis in some way, and it’s hard to see how their pasts still hurt them in the present. But that just makes it satisfying to see these women come together to support one another. SHWD drew me in with a unique and often dark action-oriented story with horror elements, but it’s this idea of “strong women” who make up for each other’s weaknesses that really makes it dear to me. 

Also, it can’t be stated enough that Sono is so so so so so (etc) good at drawing muscular women. 

On a completely unrelated note, there’s a side story about Koga and Sawada playing sports together. This includes judo. I am saying this for no reason.

Where To Get It: The English translation of the manga is released in chapters by Lilyka Manga.

Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress!

What It Is: A two volume light novel series by Ameko Kaeruda, illustrated by Kazutomo Miya. Possibly complete.

What It’s About: Tanya Artemiciov is an absurdly talented Mage. So why the hell was she kicked out of her adventuring party? Her leader and former friend sums it up in four words: “You’re a woman, Tanya.” In a fit of rage, Tanya channels her anger into a “venting” session that involves swearing her head of and casting a volley of Explosion spells into the wasteland… and accidentally releases a legendary sorceress! Luckily, Laplace is actually quite nice, and just as powerful as the legends say, so the two decide to team up so Tanya can have her revenge!

What I Think: So, this is a silly one, but after a couple of darker entries I think it’s a good palate cleanser. Sexiled is a loud, not-even-remotely subtle, unabashedly feminist take on the “power fantasy” light novel, especially the “revenge fantasy” subgenre-- and even if that sounds awesome on paper to you (ex. me), it will probably feel over-the-top at times to you (ex. me). But in a way, that’s actually kind of its charm. 

I like that Kaeruda utterly refuses to let up on what she wants to tell you, especially because the story was inspired by a real case in Japan. One may be tempted to think “this story is ridiculous, no one would ever be this cartoonishly sexist!” and then you read a news article about how in a famous Japanese medical university was found rigging the test scores of women, and you realize, “oh, people are still this cartoonishly sexist.” So I’m fine with Kaeruda letting it all out in this story. At the same time, I think Sexiled is best when it’s focused not on Tanya’s revenge but on her kindness, and the way her compassion, her strength, and yes, her anger inspires the women and girls around her. 

Sexiled is a fun and often very funny romp about assholes getting theirs, with some surprisingly deep and nuanced moments hiding in a very unsubtle story.

Where To Get It: The light novels are published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores.

BONUS: Other titles with sci-fi/fantasy/action elements that may interest you!

The Blank Of Describer: A one-shot manga by kkzt about a pair of two dream-builders. They’ve taken all kinds of commissions in the past, but one job they recieve throws them for a loop: a request for a shinigami that can predict and report death. And then comes the kicker: the customer asks the two of them to give it features that the both of them “adore the most…” (Published in English by Lilyka Manga)

A Lily Blooms In Another World: A light novel by Ameko Kaeruda (illustrated by Shio Sakura), author of Sexiled, about Miyako, a Japanese wage slave reincarnated into another world based on her favorite otome game. However, she’s not interested in her would-be love interest, but in Fuuka Hamilton-- the game’s villainess! After Miyako confesses her love, Fuuka decides to give her a challenge: if Miyako can make her say the words “I’m happy” in fourteen days, she’ll stay by her side! (Published in English through J-Novel Club, available on various platforms)

Superwomen In Love: An ongoing manga by sometime about the sentai villainess Honey Trap and her infatuation with the masked superheroine Rapid Rabbit. After being kicked out of her evil organization, Honey Trap decides to team up with her former nemesis to fight evil-- and hopefully, find romance! (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in April 2021)

2. “Yuri is all stories about teenagers! Where’s the stuff about adults?”

Take a look at the previous section: there’s the stuff about adults! Otherside Picnic, Goodbye My Rose Garden, Seabed, SHWD, Sexiled, The Blank of Describer, A Lily Blooms In Another World, and Superwomen In Love are all stories with adult-aged protagonists! But if you’re searching for a more down-to-earth romance, I’m happy to report there’s quite a bit of options to look into!

Still Sick

What It Is: A manga by Akashi. Three volumes, complete.

What It’s About: Makoto Shimizu is an office lady with a secret: she’s a yuri fan who draws doujinshi. She’s able to keep her two lives separate, all until the day she comes face-to-face with her co-worker at a convention! To Makoto’s horror, Akane Maekawa is amused by her nerdy secret, but Akane may have some secrets of her own...

What I Think: This one was a roller coaster for me: I loved the premise of the manga, but wasn’t sure about the dynamic between the leads… that is, until near the end of the first volume, where something happened and everything changed. Without giving too much away, I implore people to give Still Sick a chance-- it has a much deeper story than one might initially guess, as well as an interesting character dynamic between the two leads with some surprising turns.

Where To Get It: The first two volumes of Still Sick are published in English by Tokyopop, with the final one coming soon All three volumes have been published in English by Tokyopop.

After Hours

What It Is: A manga by Yuhta Nishio. Three volumes, complete.

What It’s About: After being ditched by her friend at a club, Emi Ashiana is ready to write the whole night off. All that changes when she meets Kei, a DJ who seems to be everything Emi is not-- cool, confident… employed.... But Kei and Emi hit it off and Emi’s life changes as Kei draws her into the world of Japan’s club scene!

What I Think: It’s hard to explain exactly why I like this manga, but I reeeeally like this manga. 

There’s just something about the sleek art, the amazing atmosphere of the scenes set in nightclubs, the chemistry between Emi and Kei, the focus on more mature topics.... it’s a manga that’s remarkably magnetic for how down-to-earth it is. It’s also just interesting to read stories about subcultures that don’t normally get a spotlight in comics. To sum it up, After Hours is just a lovely manga that’s severely underrated that’s perfect for someone who’s looking for a story that’s both fun and mature.

Where To Get It: All three volumes are published in English by Viz Media.

How Do We Relationship?

What It Is: A manga by Tamifull. Ongoing, five volumes at time of writing.

What It’s About: Miwa and Saeko’s first meeting is… interesting. But despite that, and despite their clashing personalities, the two of them become fast friends. Well… actually, perhaps more than friends. You see, pretty soon the two of them learn that the other is into women. With that in mind, Saeko suggests they try dating each other-- might as well, right? “Might as well” seems like a strange place to begin a relationship, but perhaps even something like that could end in true love?

What I Think: “Why do romances always end when they decide to start dating?!” That’s the question Tamifull poses in the afterword of Volume 1. And it’s a great question! What makes How Do We Relationship? an interesting manga is how oddly realistic it is, highlighting things like the compromises people make in relationships, people who get into relationships for pragmatic reasons rather than love, the whole “thing” about sex… as well as highlighting the additional issues queer people have to deal with. That may sound like a heavy story, but it’s actually quite light-hearted, as well as very, very funny at times. With a cute art style and surprisingly deep premise, HDWR is a great manga for older yuri fans who are craving a more mature story.

Where To Get It: The first volume has been published in English by Viz Media, with more on the way.

BONUS: Other titles with adult protagonists that may interest you!

Even Though We’re Adults: A manga by Takako Shimura about two women in their thirties. Ayano and Akari meet each other in a bar and almost immediately feel a sense of chemistry between them. There’s just one problem: Ayano is married to someone else. (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in January 2021)

Doughnuts Under A Crescent Moon: A manga by Shio Usui. Uno Hinako wants nothing more than to be seen as a normal young woman, but she just can’t seem to make a “normal” romance work. But maybe Sato Asahi, a woman who works at the same company as her, can show her a new kind of normal? (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in February 2021)

Our Teachers Are Dating: A manga by Pikachi Ohi. Hayama Asuka is a gym teacher, Terano Saki is a biology teacher. One day, they come into work both looking suspiciously happy… because they’ve started dating! (Published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment)

I Married My Best Friend To Shut My Parents Up: A one-volume manga by Kodama Naoko. Morimoto is sick and tired about constantly being badgered about finding a man to marry, so her kouhai from her high school days offers a solution: marry each other to make her parents back off! (Published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment)

Now Loading…!: A one-volume manga by Mikan Uji. Takagi has just snagged her dream job at a games publisher, but being put in charge of a mobile game that’s barely pulling in any attention isn’t exactly what she was hoping for. What’s worse, she’s drawn the attention of her strict higher-up Sakurazuki Kaori… who also happened to design her most favorite game of all time?! (Published in English through Seven Seas Entertainment)

3.  “Yuri is all schoolgirl stuff! Where’s- wait, didn’t we already do this one?”

Yes we did. And you know what? I’m making a stand! There’s a lot of really, really good yuri stories set in high schools, and I think more people need to give them a chance! Here are some high school titles that I think are worth a second look for one reason or another!

Bloom Into You

What It Is: A manga by Nakatani Nio. Eight volumes, complete. A twelve episode anime aired in 2018, covering about the first half of the series. A three volume spinoff light novel series written by Hitoma Iruma was also published.

What It’s About: Yuu Koito has long dreamed of the day she’d find That One, Storybook Romance that would make her feel like she was walking on air, but the day that a boy confesses to her, her feet remain firmly planted on the ground. When she meets Touko Nanami, a girl who seems to have the same strange, distant relationship to romance as she does, Yuu feels like she has found a comrade. But what will happen when the next person to confess to Yuu… is Touko?

What I Think: What can I say about Bloom Into You that hasn’t already been said? There’s a reason it’s basically considered a staple of yuri despite being only five years old. The art is beautiful and delicate, the story has a deft mastery of comedy, drama, and romance, and the characters are deeply loveable. Really, the only reason this one is here is to tell you to get to reading this manga (or watching the anime) if you haven’t already. So get to it!

Where To Get It: The entire series-- as well as the spinoff light novel series Regarding Saeki Sayaka-- has been published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment. The anime is currently streaming on HiDive.

Yuri Is My Job

What It Is: A manga by Miman. Ongoing, seven volumes at time of writing.

What It’s About: Hime wants nothing more than to be adored by everyone and to someday bag a rich husband. Of course, being loved by all takes a lot of work, and she prides herself in keeping her perfect, adorable facade so well-maintained. But of course, the one time she slips up, she ends up injuring the manager of a local cafe! Hime finds herself strong-armed into working for this cafe under their star employee, a kind, graceful girl named Mitsuki. But things aren’t quite so simple-- you see, this cafe has a gimmick in which all the employees are constantly acting out yuri-inspired scenes for the customers, so in a way, the employees also have their own facades. And under her facade, Mitsuki… hates Hime’s guts!

What I Think: Yuri Is My Job is an odd duck, but in a good way. It’s advertised and initially framed as a comedy, but it becomes a surprisingly thoughtful drama about the personas people adopt and why they do so (though, luckily, the comedy never truly goes away). There’s an interesting web of relationships between the girls, and having those interactions take place in a setting where they must act out a completely different sort of drama adds an extra level of drama and intrigue. The cute, polished artwork is just the icing on the cake. YIMJ is a good manga for those who are already familiar with yuri tropes and those who are interested in a drama that doesn’t get too heavy.

Where To Get It: Six volumes have been published in English by Kodansha comics, with the seventh on the way.

Riddle Story of Devil

What It Is: A manga written by Yun Kouga and illustrated by Sunao Minakata. Five volumes, complete. A 12 episode anime aired in 2014.

What It’s About: At Myojo Private School, an elite all-girl’s academy, Class Black has a secret. Twelve of the thirteen girls are actually assassins who have been offered a dark deal-- one wish will be granted to whoever manages to kill Haru Ichinose, the thirteenth student. But there’s still hope for Haru in the form of Tokaku Azuma, one of the assassins who has decided to defect to Haru’s side-- and defend her from the other girls at any cost.

What I Think: I’m not sure… if I can say Riddle Story of Devil is “good.” It’s definitely something. Although its premise is vaguely similar to Revolutionary Girl Utena, its tone and atmosphere remind me a lot more of the Dangan Ronpa series. It’s schlocky and ridiculous and often over-the-top and at times exploitative. It’s pure junk food, basically… and I believe that’s where the charm comes from. It’s my guiltiest of guilty pleasures. It may not exactly be good, but more often than not, it’s fun. It’s hard not to be immediately interested in a yuri battle series, you have to admit. 

And if it does have one undeniably good element, it’s Tokaku and Haru’s relationship. They contrast each other nicely, and while one might expect Haru to be boring and helpless, she’s actually quite proactive at times, and some of the most interesting, engaging parts of the series come from seeing how the two work together to fend off the latest assassin. It’s a short read and if anything, it’s worth it to see how each girl ends up. I recommend it for older viewers who are okay with violence and ludicrous battle scenarios.

Where To Get It: All five volumes are available through Seven Seas Entertainment. The anime can be watched through Funimation.*

*Please don’t watch the anime.**

** At the very least, please don’t watch the anime unless you’ve read the entire manga. Riddle Story Of Devil was one of those unfortunate cases where the anime adaption was produced before the manga reached its conclusion, and as such it has a very strange, rushed ending that includes none of what I enjoyed about the actual ending. Several scenes were also changed, and if I recall correctly, fanservice was added in several places where there was none previously. All in all, I’d really only recommend it for big fans of the series.

Side By Side Dreamers

What It Is: A light novel by Iori Miyazawa, illustrated by Akane Malbeni. One volume, complete.

What It’s About: Saya Hokage has been suffering from insomnia, but one day finds relief in the form of Hitsuji Konparu, a strange girl who can put people to sleep. As it turns out, Hitsuji is a person who has the special ability to move freely in their dreams, known as a “Sleepwalker.” The Sleepwalkers have been battling beings that possess people through their dreams, and it turns out they want Saya to join them in the fight.

What I Think: Side By Side Dreamers is short and… well, dreamy. I really enjoyed the premise and I think it’s a good novel for people who think Otherside Picnic may be a little too much for them. I also enjoyed each dream sequence-- I tend to find that the writing in light novels is a little dry, so the use of figurative language to describe these scenes was really refreshing and interesting. SBSD is a fun oneshot that I think is especially ideal for newcomers to yuri.

Where To Get It: Side-by-Side Dreamers is published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores.

Cocoon Entwined

What It Is: A manga by Yuriko Hara. Three volumes, ongoing.

What It’s About: Hoshimiya Girls' Academy is a strange, almost otherworldly paradise with a peculiar tradition. For all three years, each girl grows out her hair to absurd, breathtaking lengths, in order for it to eventually be cut and weaved into uniforms for future students. Perhaps it is these strange uniforms that seem to whisper about the past that makes the school seem frozen in another time… picturesque, yet stagnant. But one day, a shocking incident shatters the quiet peace of the academy, and the tumultuous feelings that have long been hidden in the hearts of these girls come rushing into the light.

What I Think: Cocoon Entwined is, in a word, eerie. It’s not marketed as a horror story, and I don’t think it’s intended to be one, but I’ve seen some that say they get horror vibes from it. I definitely understand that-- there’s a deep sense of unease that permeates the entire story in a way that’s a bit hard to articulate. The running thread of uniforms made from human hair definitely doesn’t hurt (it does-- I’ve seen many people understandably turned off by this element), but it’s more than that. It’s the sense that everything at Hoshimiya feels frozen and fragile. It’s the sense that everyone is burying their true feelings under countless layers. It’s the fact that in one scene, Saeki reaches out in a dark room full of uniforms and feels her arm touched by countless hands made of hair. 

Cocoon Entwined is a strange manga, and I feel it’s not for everyone-- besides the way many are put off by the central premise, the way that the story jumps around in time can be a bit confusing to follow. But in my opinion, I love it for these elements: the uniforms and their marriage between beauty and grotesque, the sense of frozen time, the delicate artwork that feels like it might be shattered by the weight of your gaze, the strange, airless atmosphere, the girls and their clear exhaustion of having to be ideal women. It’s a strange little series that I think should be given a shot, particularly if you want something a little more out there, or a darker take on Class S tropes.

Where To Get It: Yen Press has currently published two volumes in English.

BONUS: Other high school titles that may interest you!

A Tropical Fish Yearns For Snow: A manga by Makoto Hagino. Konatsu Amano has just moved to a new town by the sea, and must deal with her new school’s mandatory club policy. Luckily, she meets Koyuki Honami, an older girl who runs the Aquarium Club. Recognizing her loneliness, Konatsu decides to join her club. (Published  in English by Viz Media)

Flowers: A four-part series of visual novels published by Innocent Grey. Flowers focuses on Saint Angraecum Academy, a private high school that prides itself on overseeing the growth of proper young ladies. One notable thing about the academy is the Amitié program, a system that pairs students together in order to foster friendships between the girls. But friendship isn’t the only thing blooming… (Available in English from Steam, J-List, and JAST USA)

Adachi And Shimamura: A series of light novels written by Hitoma Iruma and illustrated by Non that has recently received a manga adaptation and an anime adaption. Adachi and Shimamura are two girls who encounter each other one day while cutting class. Little by little, the two girls become a part of each other’s lives, and feelings begin to form. (The light novels are published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, the anime is licensed by Funimation)

And there we go! 24 different yuri titles. I didn’t even go into the series that I tried but personally didn’t like that still might interest other people. I primarily made this list to gush about yuri that I liked, but I also tried to include a fairly wide range of things so that, hopefully, any random person who read this whole list could find at least one new title that interests them. And I hope that includes you!

The yuri scene is quite large and wonderful if you know where to look, and it too often gets a bad rap. I hope that this list could give you a new perspective on what kinds of titles are available, and I hope it gives you something new to try. And remember: if you want something specific, try looking for it! There’s a good chance the story you’re craving is already out there, waiting to be discovered!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Gig workers around the globe

My 2010 YA science fiction novel For the Win imagines a global solidarity movement among precarious gig workers paid to "gold farm" inside massively multiplayer online games.

https://craphound.com/category/ftw/

The kids who do this work realize they have more in common with each other than their bosses, and form a global syndicalist union called the Industrial Workers of the World Wide Web (IWWW) or "Webblies."

Gold farming remains a source of exploitative labor, xenophobic in-game violence, and acts of solidarity, but it's only a tiny sliver of the true gig economy, which started with traditional low-waged delivery and driving work and has spread to MDs.

https://www.npr.org/2021/07/21/1018915121/video-gaming-the-system

"The Global Gig Workers" is a new, important report on the gig economy around the world, published by Rest of World. It's grounded in a survey of 4,500 gig workers in 15 countries, backstopped by seven profiles of workers in seven countries.

https://restofworld.org/2021/the-global-gig-workers/

The package includes a dive into the small coterie of investors that are behind the drive to export the gig economy to every nation on earth, delving into how they describe the business opportunity gig work represents.

https://restofworld.org/2021/global-gig-workers-investors-behind-gig-work-model/

It won't surprise you to learn that what attracts investors to gig work is the potential to scale up a company at workers' expense. Building the app and bribing, coercing or convincing local authorities to allow it to operate is a fixed cost; running the service is cheap.

The capital costs - bikes, trucks, cars, phones, data-plans - are all borne by workers, who, thanks to systematic worker misclassification, are treated as independent contractors who are not entitled to benefits or workplace protection.

And while the workers must buy expensive capital equipment and have their days scripted to a fine degree by the electronic nag of the app, the company offers them no assurance that compliance and performance will be rewarded with a fair wage.

Not only do workers routinely see their pay slashed after they've established themselves with the company, thanks to unilateral shifts in the compensation structure (as well as changes to the apps to hide how much a job pays until the worker has completed it).

But entire, debt-financed capital investments by workers can be wiped out by a "pivot" in corporate strategy, as happened to Zweli Ngwenya, an Uber driver in Johannesburg who went into debt to buy a car that qualified him to drive for Uberx.

Ngwenya relied on Uberx-style compensation to service the debt on the capital asset he purchased to help Uber scale up its South African business. But then Uber rolled out a cheaper alternative, Uber Go, that didn't require a fancy car, and paid lower compensation.

Ngwenya's wages have "plummeted." He may not be able to service the debt he incurred. A company that expected him to frog whenever its app told him to jump never extended even the thinnest fiction of a reciprocal  degree of respect and care.

There's a lot to be learned from Rest of World's data analysis. For example, there's an excellent article on "How the platform economy sets women up to fail," which traces the gender inequities in the structure of the gig economy.

https://restofworld.org/2021/global-gig-workers-how-platforms-set-women-up-to-fail/

But what I found most fascinating was the introductory article, "How the gig workers are fighting back," detailing how gig workers around the world are making common cause with one another.

https://restofworld.org/2021/gig-workers-around-the-world-are-finally-organizing/

These movements cross sectors - uniting drivers and bike deliverers and grocery shoppers - and national boundaries, as well as the far less permeable barriers between high-income and low-income countries.

Because even though there are striking differences between the lives of the seven gig workers profiled in the package - a doctor in India, a truck driver in Indonesia, a rideshare driver in Ethiopia - the similarities are even more striking.

Even though these workers can articulate benefits to their situation, they all describe the same pathology of their implacable app overlords - a steady ramping-up of work to a dangerous  inhuman pace, a race to the bottom from app companies promising faster, cheaper service.

The same pattern is repeated around the globe. Josh Dzieza's beautifully written longread on the lives of NYC bike-delivery couriers repeats all the themes of these workers around the global south.

https://www.theverge.com/22667600/delivery-workers-seamless-uber-relay-new-york-electric-bikes-apps

Like my imaginary Webblies, these workers are facing a common enemy, and they're banding together online to fight back. What's more, these workers are canaries in the labor coalmine: if your job can be done by zoom, some asshole is currently pitching that  business-plan.

Teachers, lawyers, doctors, illustrators, writers - the gig economy is everyone's future - it's just not evenly distributed. Whether you're ordering dinner from an app or delivering it, you have a common enemy in the form of rapacious, inhumane global capital.

But it doesn't have to be this way. These businesses don't need to operate at inhumane tempo to be viable. They don't need to offload capital costs to workers. They don't need to misclassify employees and escape fair workplace standards. We let them do it, so they do it.

We can stop them. The beneficiaries of the gig economy are few. Its victims are many. The same tools that offer instantaneous, globe-spanning exploitation can also be a framework for global, realtime solidarity movements.

[felassan]

Highlights and insights from the MELE launch cast & crew reunion panel

[rewatch link] [highlights & insights from the N7 Day 2020 reunion]

In case a text format is better for anyone (in terms of accessibility for example). Cut for length.

Some paraphrasing.

If anyone’s interested in just the line-reading session, it starts at timestamp ~1:04:45.

In addition to the cast and crew from the N7 Day reunion, at this reunion also in attendance were: 

Mac Walters (Project Director for MELE, Lead Writer of the og MET)

Melanie Faulknor (Lead Producer for MELE)

Crystal McCord (Producer for MELE)

Fred Tatasciore (Saren)

Seth Green (Joker)

Kimberly Brooks (Ash)

Ash Sroka (Tali)

This was the biggest reunion / meetup of the cast so far, and some of the cast and crew were meeting for the first time here.

It’s been so long since the og MET that PW & KW are getting to watch their kids experience playing it for the first time

JHale doesn’t play but since MELE she’s been sneaking around Twitch jumping into peoples’ MELE livestreams to lurk, watch and comment a bit

What drew Seth to the character of Joker? The whole concept of the game. He likes games and MET’s mechanics (different trees of adventure, stacking reputation, choices carrying between games) at the time were the most sophisticated that he’d ever heard pitched. He thought this was new and exciting and wanted to be a part of it. For the character they cast him based on his personality traits (i.e. he sounds quite similar to Joker personality-wise)

Would Seth ever want to play Joker again if the opportunity presented itself? Sure, he loves the character, and if the writers ever had more things to explore/expand with Joker he’d be down for it. 

Seth said that it’s a different kind of fan that approach him about this project. The fans have spent many many hours in an intimate exchange with “him” that he hasn’t been a part of, but they experienced it nonetheless. “I’ve hugged a lot of strangers, you know what I’m saying? It’s great, you get an interaction with fans that you never get as a performer in any other experience”

Seth has been a space guy since he was little, it inspires him

With the state of the world the way it is now [covid, masks etc], does Ash think Tali’s story will be more impactful now than it was before? Ash hopes so, and that anything they do here will have a positive impact on a bigger level. Ultimately that’s why most of them do what they do, they want to reach people in deep ways. She hopes Tali is an inspiration in courage, bravery, standing up for what’s right and thinking about the greater good

The [MELE I think] dev team had a last team meeting with Greg Zeschuk, one of the founders of BioWare, who they had invited to it. He was regaling them with stories of the inception of Mass Effect. “You would imagine this sort of well-laid out, drawing boards everywhere... [but] it was basically just a napkin sketch in a Greek taverna with him and Casey going ‘We wanna do a space opera’, and then it took off”

The process of creating lore through development is very organic. A lot of it comes from character and story development. It builds up over the course of the game’s development. They did the codex entries at the end, the idea being that if they saved them for as late as they could, then they could pull from the story, characters and meaningful moments, and build them from there

PW wrote a bunch of the codex entries, elevator banter & lots of little bits of lore. They describe their time on the og MET as being a “baby writer”. They originally came in after Mac had back surgery and a junior writer was needed to fill in. “It was really fun, it was us sitting in a room together going ‘What do you think a hanar or a krogan thinks about this or that’?” For a first project for them this was an amazing experience - the world building itself creatively with all these awesome people

They tried to add multiplayer in every game but only got it to work in ME3

They had a lot of plots laid out in ME1 that they called “global plots”. These were outside the core critical path and would take players from planet to planet, and were sprawling stories. They pulled out a lot of really interesting concepts and ideas from these that did make it into the game, but all of the global plots ended up getting cut due to time. Mac still has old diagrams and spreadsheets which detailed how all of these would have come together

Q. If you all had to take a long-distance road-trip with two squadmates, who would you take and why? PW: “Jack and Mordin. Mordin because the drive would never lack for things to talk about at length quickly, Jack because you know you wouldn’t pay for the room. You wouldn’t know how you’d get the room, but you wouldn’t be paying for it.” Courtenay: “I’d take Mordin because there’d be singing, and FemShep just to have this thing - happen. In the room that I get for free.” JHale at this point fistpumped while saying “Yeess” [then I think what she said was “steaming hot”]

Seeing as asari are long-lived, how open is Ali to one day reprising her role as Liara? “She’s a character very close to my heart, it was such a great opportunity. In some games that we work on the character has already been created or voiced by someone else, but this was really a group effort. When I first went into the booth, the only thing I’d seen of her was a sort of like, rendering, and we slowly kind of came to her voice and presence. I would love to bring Liara back any time... hey, she can live a really long time guys. :D”

Caroline and people who do what she does (Creative Performance Director) are so critical to the quality of games. Caroline: “This group of people are extraordinary. We were lucky to have such an extraordinary cast. Every [recording] session was new and challenging. It was a labor of love. I’m tearing up right now thinking about it. I’m remembering my last session with Jen, she was the last session, just sobbing and sobbing”. When JHale was trying to say the lines of Shepard’s goodbye with Garrus, a line hit her like a tonne of bricks and she was in tears and was like “Shepard does not cry”. “It took me a second, I got it out and took another run at it, it was in there but stuffed down as it should have been, and I finished the line [and there was silence in the booth when usually Caroline would have been talking to give direction or instruction] Did we lose her? Did Skype crash?” and it transpired that what had happened was that Caroline was in floods of tears

ME was the first time Keythe had ever come across branching dialogue. “Normally when we work on a script and it’s from page 1 to 100. In this it was get to page 5, then go back to page 2 and play it a little differently. The skill and the fun and joy of it was to be able to go back and play a scene in a different way, with different writing, with different outcomes. This was not only a challenge but a real treat. So to all the writers who dreamed up how this build-your-own-adventure plays out, you have my undying respect. It was a real pleasure”

VEDA is a proprietary system that BW use to record the dialogue, which is the closest way of having it feel like having people in the booth together (it’s all digital and VAs get to hear the line someone else has done in that scene). Caroline really pushed for this because of the amount of time etc that was wasted due to lack of this sort of thing on ME1. William: “It was a god send for me, thank you, getting to hear a cue from Jen or Mark.” Ali: “Us being able to bounce off each other helps make it more real. This for me was the most real acting experience on a game I had ever had - the writing being so good, Caroline helping us through, being able to hear each other.” JHale was always early coming in to record relative to the others so only got to use VEDA a few times - a bit of Liara content and the scene with Anderson towards the end. “Those two times, oh my god it was amazing”. VEDA being a thing also helps from a scheduling standpoint

Seth and Tricia Helfer (EDI) only got to be in the booth actually together 1 time, to record/shoot a piece of promotional video. “We actually got to record a scene together and we were like ‘oh my god this is the best thing ever’. It was great, even though I had to stand on a stool. She’s the best”

Seth: “As an actor, the kind of opportunity to do this kind of material in games just didn’t exist.” Fred: “Oh, never! I had never had a villain part that was complicated like that. In a game? Never before, it was really interesting”

Raphael always goes back to the fact that ME brought more women into gaming than any other game before it. “The writing and the complexity of the relationships gave us so much ballast”. “This set this apart from running, shooting, gunning, looting”

JHale: “What I noticed in the times before when I got to be around fans, there was a huge hunger among women in the gaming world for something they could really jump into. They were starving for something which fed them what they deserved and needed”

Mac: “[praising Caroline] Caroline would often come to us as writers and challenge us and say, as an example, ‘Do we really need another male character to do this? Why are we writing another male character for this?’ She pushed that very early and to the betterment of everything we created”

PW: “Karin and Cookie and all of the editors across the trilogy, [were critical in] making sure that Shepard sounded consistent - [especially since] we had a large writing team, writers came and went, Mac is the only one with a significant writing contribution on each of the games”

PW: “[on game dev] It’s a process of getting hundreds of people pointed in the same direction, all believing that this is something worth doing”

Ash: “Having all the different possibilities and avenues, going back to play them all out in the different ways [really helped to round the character of Tali out and make her feel like a natural person]”.

VAs only get paid for the original recording sessions, not again (as in they don’t any royalties or anything from something like the remaster)

In MELE, they left all the original credits at the end of each game in

Fred: “It’s creating in five dimensions [because of all the outcomes and relationships etc]”. Seth: “The cool thing is that the audience feels that. They’re immediately struck by how dense, thought-out, prepared and planned the entire universe is”

How was it for the new MELE devs coming onto this? Crystal: “I knew it [the series and fans’ love for it] was big, but I didn’t know it was BIG! Working on MELE there was this infectious excitement. Being part of it was so exciting.” Melanie: “I came on at ME3, I had a 3 or 4 year honeymoon period with BioWare. Coming onto MELE, I’m getting really emotional. One of my first meetings originally was going into a cinematic review for an epic Tali scene in ME3”. Crystal: “On MELE, we had an hour or 2 every day where the team came together to play the game. In those reviews, a lot of the devs who worked on the original would tell all these stories. It was really fun to hear all the inside stories on ME’s creation and be a part of that”

DC: “Should this unit get vaccinated?” Ash: “Of course”

How do they think ME will be viewed in the next 10-20 years, what do they think its legacy will be? A piece of history, ground-breaking. It broke down some barriers and opened doors for people. It’s a powerful, powerful community. It’ll continue to age quite well and be enjoyed by a new generation, it’s original and evergreen and there’s a lot in it that people go back to. There’s a lot of universal things in it (personal experiences, like there will always be love, people fighting to belong, trying to make sense of their pasts etc)

JHale and Alix did the “I love you Shepard, now go save the world again” Shep-Sam exchange and both got teary. It was then Seth’s turn to line-read: “Jesus Christ, now that I’m good and choked up, fucking mess”. Ali was also actually crying from it

Seth: “It can’t be overstated, this community is so large and global, it is one of the most powerful fandoms that I’ve ever been greeted with. Thank you”. Ash: “It’s the most amazing group of fans ever. We’re all so grateful”

Some funny anecdotes/stories:

PW didn’t realize that Alix could do different accents. They remember a time when they were listening in the booth and an Alliance soldier was complaining about the gear had been given. They said “Wow that’s really good, who is that?” and the VO producer said “That’s Alix, Patrick”, “because she wasn’t doing her [normal British accent but was doing a Californian accent instead]. Alix roasted me later for not recognizing her voice and never let me heard the end of it”

Alix: “[on Sam’s toothbrush] Caroline’s like, ‘So then she pulls her toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘What? Sorry? A toothbrush?’ and obviously it’s funny now as everyone knows that Sam’s thing is her toothbrush. Caroline’s like ‘Yeah, you’ve gotta like, flirt, over the toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘Who wrote this - a frickin toothbrush, are you kidding me? Really guys?’ ANYWAY. I was wrong and it worked. :D”

Fred: “I remember a 12 year old kid coming up to me and being like [flat tone] ‘Oh yeah. I killed you’.”

Keythe: “The other assasin I play is Kellogg in Fallout 4. People come up to me like ‘Omg. I love you so much. And then I fucking KILLED you!’”

Courtenay once went out to dinner in NZ with a few prominent people from the Game of Thrones cast. “Everyone around was making a big deal out of it like ‘Omg, it’s so-and-so from GoT’. I was feeling a bit like ‘Hi, I’m here, just nobody’. And I looked around in the restaurant and there's one guy in the corner and he’s got an N7 shirt on and he’s just looking at me like [knowing look, does a peace sign]. And I’m like ‘I got one! I love you guys!’”

PW: “I have a question for the cast members, because I don’t know if JHale has done this to all of you or if she just does it to the devs. Show of hands if Jen has ever made you do push-ups.” JHale: “It’s just you guys”

Karin: “One of my favorite editing files that I ever had was a ME file. It was before Seth was coming in for a session. I opened it up and it was just 20, 25 lines with the word ‘Shit’, over and over again, and I was like, ‘This file is perfect, I don’t need to do anything to it, have fun!’”

Seth: “Didn’t we do a track that’s like 60 seconds of laughing? Escalating laughing? I don’t know about other actors but for me getting into a laughing fit is kind of like trying to get into a crying fit, it takes the same level of commitment, you start to follow a path until like you’re hysterically uncontrollably laughing. I remember looking through the glass, and I’m deep in it at this point, and I make eye contact, and I can see from the other side of the booth and they’re like [making ‘okay you can stop’ now gestures] - ‘Like that’s plenty, we got it’ and I was like ‘okay, okay [dying]’”

JHale: “The craziest thing Mark and I had to deal with was how many times we had to say ‘I should go’”. Mark: “We also, Caroline and I tended to use that as short hand when I needed to go to the bathroom”

The panel host: “The first time I interviewed Ali was a decade ago. She did the ‘I’ll flay you alive with my mind’ line halfway through, it was my first interview and I literally fell out of my seat [from being star-struck]”

Ash line-read Tali’s drunk omni-tattoo scene and in response DC said “I totally get why people wanna romanticize all these characters :D”. Karin: “We’ve had more than one person come up to us and show us actual tattoos that looked like that”

[source]

[annethepancake]

Sherlock rant

I recently rewatched BBC Sherlock for Rupert Graves, and aside from the lack of Lestrade appreciation I have a lot of problems with this series. Here are my thoughts:

1. It was all a blur

My second first impression of the show: I don't remember anything but the characters. And some characters I just blatantly forgot, like Mary. And I loved Mary on my second watch! I really forgot that at one point John actually got married and I don't even remember when I watched the show for the first time. I can still recall most of HIMYM's events and I hated that series.

2. It’s overall not a detective/crime show

Watching Sherlock for the second time, I mostly turned off my brain and just let it play in the background because (1) there's hardly anything for me to solve with the characters, most clues are taken by Sherlock off-screen anyway (especially after season 2), (2) they focus way too much on the quirks of the characters that make it almost like a sitcom that got dragged on for way too long. A crime/detective show shouldn't allow me to turn off my brain.

3. The characters just kinda fall flat

Exploring the depth of human emotions is not a bad approach to a modernized version of anything, I’m not trying to pretend I’m better than someone who gets sentimental over fictional character (if you know my blog at all, you know I am not), but at least write good characters. Sherlock is hardly a multi-faceted person; in fact, he’s kinda like the Wattpad teen fic main character sometimes. He physically fights off some terrorists with a machete to save the damsel in distress? He gets high off his tits but still got everything right all the time? John is just kinda there for most of the cases. Jim is a poorly written antagonist. Irene is a lesbian but gets the hot for our main character, surprise surprise. The only interesting characters to me are the ones who act like normal people: Molly, Greg and Mary. They are the multi-faceted characters, ones who I can actually relate to without feeling inferior to them in any way. Write characters like them, stop trying to be smart about it and stop writing Wattpad fanfictions for Sir Conan Doyle’s original works.

I get that they try to make Sherlock more like a human with emotions, making him quirky and arrogant, then make him quirky and more likable. It’s hardly a convincing character development though. He’s given over-powered deduction skills, so edgy, so high and mighty all the time. When he is finally written as vulnerable, turns out he has plans for that too. I would love to see him get it wrong once and maybe get humbled by that mistake, but getting Mary shot and killed is hardly even his fault, he is only doing his job. And killing off Mary is overall a bad idea anyway.

4. They treated the fandom like shit

I was absolutely disgusted at the start of season 3 when the showrunners just straight up shat on their fans. I wasn't there with the fandom during the wait between season 2 and 3, but I believe it was a pretty long wait (2 years, I could barely wait 2 years for my comfort series, and they have like 10 episodes per season), and they were presented with the first actual mystery of the series: How did Sherlock survive the fall? After years of waiting and having fun theorizing, they were met with a mockumentary about them, starring the most hated character of the protagonist and the fans. Those are the people who actually cared about the show for god's sake. The fact that the showrunners treated fans like crap and there's still an active fandom for the show appalled me.

Now not only The Empty Hearse bugs me, but the entire show does as well.

Allow me to digress.

Doki Doki Literature Club is a great example of audience engagement done right (Sorry for using this example I’m not actually that invested in the other franchises). After the success of the first game, the story provoked so many fans into solving the mysteries of the characters, some of them went really, really far. And that’s because of the actual mysteries that the development team took effort to plant into the plot. There is actual pay-off for painstakingly following the clues; as far as I know, only two (2!) people in the world have come close to solving the mystery of the first game (or they actually did). The game developers value their fans and their intelligence enough to have planted those clues where they did, and it’s a genuine exchange between the fans and the creators. Now even though you haven’t actually played the game, when you hear of the name and you’re only kinda familiar with gaming (like me), you’ll probably know what it is. What started as a mere open-source game by an indie developer became a sensation which left millions of fans begging for more.

Looking back at Sherlock, there are tons of logical flaws for a self-proclaimed crime series, virtually no clues for the audience to solve crimes along with their favorite detective, and when there was actually a mystery (Sherlock jumped off the building), they plainly showed him alive and well minutes later. Do we really need to see things spelled on screen to know what’s going on? Are we supposed to accept that Sherlock Holmes is an all-knowing future-predicting genius now too? Not a great sign of respecting the audience there.

So far, the only thing left that’s interesting about this series is the characters’ dynamic. Which brings me to the next criticism I have for the show.

5. The plague that infested mainstream media

Why is there still an active fandom? Queerbaiting and targeted marketing.

Community marketing is proven to be one of the best marketing methods there is, if not the best, to lengthen the lifespan of a product or service. The way they do that for shows and films and video games is usually by planting seeds of possible lores and history inside the content. Look at Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, they are franchises that ran for multiple years with a ton of history and world building that provokes fans’ imagination.

Sherlock - well, Sherlock has sexually ambiguous men.

Sherlock has a formula for success. It was an adaptation of the most iconic detective novel in the world, funded by one of the biggest TV networks in the UK and possibly the world (don’t quote me on this). Making this series means you can appeal to such a wide group of audience even before airing. Adding in the quirky smart men who live together, you’ve basically guaranteed a prime-time show with millions of loyal fans all over the world.

Fans are not stupid, and queer people don't just find queerness everywhere they go. They know a gay subtext when they see one. Sherlock came back from the literal death for John, pretty gay if you ask me.

This show is very much not just about some guys being dudes solving crimes, they have relationship that’s deeper than friendship, and definitely not platonic. They deliberately wrote a sexually ambiguous Sherlock Holmes from the get-go - literally from the very first episode, then capitalized off of the targeted demographic, never a pay-off for their anticipation. Martin Freeman said in interviews that he could recognize Sherlock fans, them being generally women from 16 - 25. No shit Sherlock, this show targets them and capitalizes off of them, being quirky and gay as hell, of course the fanbase is generally 16 - 25 and female.

Sherlock queerbaited the fandom for years for the sake of marketing and there’s never a pay-off, nor was there any recognition to the community, and to add to all that bigotry, queercoding pretty much all of the villains? Why was a show aired in the 2010′s allowed to do this? Why did Mark Gatiss, an openly gay man, a writer of the show, allow this to happen? Why are millions of fans all over the world allowing all this to go on?!

6. Conclusion

Now I haven’t read the books yet, so I’m not at all qualified to criticize the adaptation quality of the TV series; I’m just talking about the TV series on its own. Despite my criticism, I think the first two seasons did quite okay. There are quite a few nice cases there, I like The Blind Banker and The Hound of Baskerville. They did those well because the focus was on the cases themselves, and the connection between John and Sherlock was only in the background. I, like many other fans, like to figure things out on my own, to read between the lines, and to not have things spelled out for me. With the next seasons bombarded with Sherlock and John bonding it seriously felt like mere fan service for me and even though I wasn’t there when the show was on, I still felt like I was robbed and my interest in the show was abused.

Sherlock is undoubtedly super influential in pop culture even now. It has to have done something right to be in that spot (capitalizing off loyal fans?). I’m not writing this rant to change someone’s mind about the series, by all means, I’m still gonna love the hell out of Gavin Lestrade, and absolutely lose my mind over Mary Watson. So do take my words with a grain of salt, I’m just disappointed that one of the most influential shows there is is just short of my expectations.

[filmmakerdreamst]

Xena: Warrior Princess Review

During Pride Month 2020, I finally got around to watch ‘Xena’. A show that had been in my to-watch list for years, but never got around to start. And when I finally did, I was pleasantly surprised. It was not what I expected and it was everything I think my 11 year old self would have loved.

The one thing that surprised me about the show, was the lack of packaging. Even though it was a fantasy, it also played with different kinds of genres too. I’ve talked about this before in my other review - ‘Xena’ was made at a time when TV had very few rules/rarely had a set audience, since there were parts of the show that were clearly for kids and there were other parts that were clearly for adults (therefore had much more flexibility). I admired how they weren’t afraid to break barriers and touch on deep themes such as religion, morality, redemption, spirituality, motherhood, forgiveness etc - even more than shows of today are able. I also loved how they played into the idea of ‘murder’ and how much it can damage a person - not just the person who commits the act, but the many people affected afterwards. I wasn’t expecting it to be that extreme. It made me think that this must of been the inspiration for ‘Game of Thrones’. 

I see a lot of comments here and there, saying how ‘cheesy and terrible’ it was but to just accept it because its part of the fun. And while like any show it does suffer from the occasional spell of bad writing (the whole of season 5) but it was also shown to be very aware of that fact and never took itself too seriously - unlike some shows I could mention. 

And regarding the ‘cheese’ factor (what 90s show wasn’t) It definitely can be, but I would call it ‘camp’ and ‘experimental’ more than anything else. (Don’t diss the poor use of CGI - I’m personally sympathetic to what was avaliable to them at the time) The style of humour reminded me of Taika Waititi’s filmmaking. If you’ve watched any of his films such as ‘Hunt for The Wilderpeople’ or ‘Jojo Rabbit’, then you know what I’m talking about. I liked how little they cared about being accurate or logical, which added to the ‘bonkers’ element in the show - which you can see in all of Taika Waititi’s films.

In all seriousness, a show centered around two women in their late twenties, who are realistic sizes (not trying to play teenagers). One of whom is a reformed mass murderer, who has lived a life experience, trying to do good in the world for the first time, picking the other one up who has no life experience prior (after they bugged them until they said ‘ok fine’) in their path to redemption. Just two women who become friends travelling the world together, fighting crime, having a laff, learning from one another without any toxicity - when suddenly when the stakes are raised - they realise ‘oh I'm actually falling in love with this person’ I have watched a lot of badly written shows in my childhood enough to know that, that’s not ‘cheesy’. I’ve never seen a story like that in my entire life. I’m not at all surprised that Russel T Davis was inspired by it while writing the Doctor and Rose’s relationship in ‘Doctor Who’ since he’s gay himself.

What’s more amazing about their love story is how they’re both develop as separate people as well. There was this video essay explaining ‘Why you should watch Angel’ the spin off series to Buffy; how ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer ‘was all about growing up and ‘Angel’ was all about being an adult. With Xena: Warrior Princess, you have both of those stories at the same time. 

Xena’s character was such a multifaceted experience to watch. And I can’t imagine anyone else who could play her as well as Lucy Lawless. What planet did they get that actress from? She's flawless! The amount of skill she has to put herself into a very physical role is astonishing. I personally had a love/hate relationship with her character all series long. Not in the way that I hated her, just that I couldn’t trust if she was all good or bad, which I know was intentional on the writers part. I haven’t seen a character quite like her before. She felt very much like a fallen angel; almost like the villain of her own story. Some of my favourite episodes come from fleshing out her character and dark past (‘Locked up and Tied Down’ is one of them) which reminds the audience that's she's not the stereotypical hero everyone expects. I loved her transformation from being this incredibly stoic warrior to being content and happy with who she is in season six, all because of a woman she fell in love with along the way. 

I’ve always thought of Gabrielle as the real hero and narrator of ‘Xena’. She’s the prime example of ‘a normal person becoming extrodinary’. Gabrielle’s coming of age story starting out as an innocent girl from a poor village dreaming of adventure, and ending as this vicious warrior who realises the ‘adventure’ wasn’t how she made it out to be is honestly the best character arc that I’ve ever seen. I loved how travelling with Xena made her realise her passion for writing (which was never going to happen in her home town, given the ‘sexist’ and ‘heteronormative’ ideas) and that she became a amazon princess like Xena. In regards to her sexuality, which is more up for debate than Xena’s (which I think we can all agree is bisexual) I personally interpret her as gay, just in terms of how she was written. Theres this moment in season 4 where she's being held up her hair, and Xena “symbolically” cuts it off ‘freeing her’. And she never really gets with a man afterwards, unless she’s being ‘possessed. It reminded me of a moment in one of Hayao Miyasaki’s films ‘Laputa, Castle in the Sky’ where the bad guy Moska shoots Sheeta’s ‘princess hair off’ which symbolises her transition from child to adult.

The cinematography was breathtaking. There was some great utilisation of New Zealand as the scenery. So was the soundtrack. You could tell it was made by experienced filmmakers. One of my favourite things about the show was the domestic elements - moments in the show where time seemed to stop - which made the world around the characters seem very real and magical. Even though it was a show that featured a lot of action/adventure, there was also this gentleness to it as well. For example, you could feel the wetness of the rain, the warmth of the sun and the clashing of the waves. This technique is used in Hayao Miayasaki’s work a lot .

The technique is referred to as ‘MA’ 空虚 meaning emptiness in Japanese. ‘Miyasaki describes this as the time between a clap’

“If you just have non stop action, with no breathing space at all, its just busyness. But if you take a moment, then the tension building in the film can grow into a wider dimension” - Hayao Miyasaki

undefined

The episode ‘A Day in the Life’ in season two is a really good example of this technique being used.

To my understanding, they used a lot of the local actors in New Zealand, which according to Lucy Lawless, consisted of ‘African immigrants and other different ethnicites’. It was so refreshing to see such a diverse show (despite some slip ups) especially in the 90s. I appreciated the idea that if the actors or extras couldn’t do an ‘american accent’ people could just talk in their natural speech which was also very refreshing. 

The LGBT representation was surprisingly amazing. I never expected so many queer characters in one show - especially under the censors. There was this one episode where they had a trans woman - played by an actual trans actress - win a beauty contest. It made me cry. Not to mention the actress was an aids activist. It was actually Lucy Lawless’ idea to kiss her which was incredibly controversial at that time considering how everyone thought you could catch aids just by kissing. I can definitey see how it validated people back in the 90s.

When people told me that Xena: Warrior Princess was one of the greatest love stories, I thought they were exaggerating a little. But no, watching the show in context, I found out that it really is. Despite its obvious restrictions, It made me realise (regarding token gay couples today) how often television writers rely on physicality and drama to convey a ‘love story’ and how much of it is actually pandering the audience. One of the reasons why Xena and Gabrielle’s relationship felt so genuine is because it was built on mutual respect/compassion and they were also best friends. I felt like I was witnessing something very real and private. It didn’t need kissing scenes or drama to make it interesting. 

It really helped that most of the writers were queer also. There’s this opening scene in season 4, panning over to Gabrielle giving Xena a massage (metaphor for sex - because they weren’t able to show that on screen) which I consider to be one of the most iconic scenes in media - considering how I wanted to sick up my supper when I watched the 10 minute ‘empty’ explicit sex scene in ‘Blue in the Warmest Colour’. The difference when something is written by a queer women vs a straight man.

Because the creators weren’t allowed to write their love story in the normal way, due to the studio forbidding them to, they found creative ways to showcase that love on screen - which made for a very magical/sensual experience. And I can safely say, if anyone has doubts about watching ‘Xena’, whenever I expected to be queer baited at a few points in the show, I was proved wrong time and time again. It’s the most romantical show I’ve ever seen in my life!

[jksangelic]

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

GENRE: fantasy, fluff, smut, a hint of a soulmate au, light angst

PAIRING: village daughter!reader x seraph!yoongi (alternatively, an “angel”)

WARNINGS/TAGS: lots of overthinking/past angst regarding both reader and yoongi separately (yoongi especially), tae is involved as an important plot side character but he’s barely in there i’m sorry, surprise aggression from yoongi because u get in his personal space, slow burn smut but the smut is nice and flavorful, explicit sexual content, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), virgin!reader, clumsy cute smut uwu, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), several positions, unintentional temperature play?, lots of love and respect up in this house and lots of other things i probably forgot. 

also i wrote a lot for the intro you can skim idc lmao.

SUMMARY: your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

WORD COUNT: 18,600

NOTE: welcome to my slice of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls Collaboration!

it’s always really an honor to be able to work with other writers and i’m really grateful that they allowed my butting-in )))): thank you all!!! make sure to check out everyone’s stories in the link above and let us know what you think!

(uhhh i just..... i spent way too much time on research and the politics behind this fic for it to still be aLL oVer tHe plaCe but please cut me some slack. might i throw in that this has no religious/cultural affiliation and instead has more of a fantastical theme to it that is entirely fictional. especially for the concept of the Offering and how i loosely throw around the word “angel” and “heaven” and etc.)

((might i add that i recently discovered that i am *terrible* at describing geography and am totally basing it off of video-game visuals........ cough cough zeldabreathofthewild))

(((this last one’s kinda important!!!!: yoongi is described to be larger than you bc he’s this magical bird being. i always try to keep reader insert broad in description but if you’re taller than irl yoongi boongi, pssst, you’re not in this universe sorry but i make the rules)))

((((this is currently unedited. @14statelier​ get to work.))))

Part One

The snow falls slow and thick. The children catching it on their tongues and compacting it to shoot at each other, screaming and wailing all the same as it continues to pile. It fell particularly early this time around, normally nothing more than cold bitter to the skin and clouds stirring prediction of the oncoming winter. You were always a heavy sleeper despite the beauty of first frost, long past your days of childish amazement through fogged windows and warm fires but you watched the icy cotton substance pile since dawn this morning. Not even drowsiness will overrun your excitement for the day ahead.

“You light three incense and make sure they burn all the way through before you turn around,” Taehee states.

“Find some stones on your way. Use them to hold the tapestry down as you set up. It looks especially windy today,” Mina adds.

Yoona finishes tucking your hair back rather tightly, “You should stop by Jin’s and pick up some extra bread. You know he’ll give you some of his fresh batch if you asked for it.”

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

You chew on your fingers, a nervous habit. Taehee pulls your slobbered index from your lips with a wrinkled forehead, “You better remember this, dear. You only have to do it once but if you do it right, it’ll be worth much more.”

You recite drearily, “Follow the path, set up the altar, say our prayers, return home.”

“Once the incense is out, Y/N. You mustn’t forget.”

“And you cannot explore the manor. Don’t walk around. Don’t look through the windows—”

“It’s a manor? How big do you suppose?” you ask with newfound interest to your words.

“That doesn’t matter, girl. You don’t wander. You don’t explore. You do what is told of you and nothing more. What matters is that you don’t spot a seraph, and that the seraphs don’t spot you.”

You never understood that rule. If the seraph tribe was so kind as to help your country win a rather one-sided war, then why the invisible boundary? To be in alliance and never interact was an odd sense of unity to you, if any. “Have you ever seen a seraph? Is it true they have two sets of wings?” You’d always been curious to the subject, a fairytale-like existence just waiting below the peak.

“The elders claim they do. A large and small set. Some say it’s necessary for having human proportions. You know, they say it’s bad luck to stare at a seraph’s wings. ” Mina says in awe in correspondence to the way she suffocates you with your robe’s sash.

You swat her away, forcing down a smile, “I don’t believe that, you haven’t even seen one! How do you even know they exist!”

“Hush! You’ll get into some real trouble if an elder catches you saying that. They exist. And they live up the mountain. And you will do the Offering with utmost delicacy and respect. Besides, you’re the only one coming-of-age this year! A girl to do it by herself is surely something the leaders will appraise of you.” You avoid their scrutinous, expectant gazes.

You could say you’ve been cursed at birth. Weak in basic skills in which an adult, regardless of age, is identified by. You lacked time management and a sense of direction, you harbored a bad habit of looking down when you spoke, you couldn’t even wash the dishes without chipping a glass. Your legs worked against you at random times, quite literally tripping you up and deeming you as a clumsy, pitiful thing. As you grew older, the only skills you were able to contribute were to the fields, where things were organic and didn’t require fragility.

“I am not as useless as you think of me,” the words come out unprompted but true and exposed.

The women gawk and babble like hens in a flurry of angered denial or soft apologies but you no longer have time to discuss unimportant matters.

In the midst, rough, giant hands encase your face. You don’t realize you’re looking to the floor until Taehyung props your chin upwards, met with smiling eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. His name rolls off your tongue in surprise.

“Hey, don’t start moping before you even start. It really isn’t a big deal. You hike all the way up to the riverbank more than the others and that’s a long way. This is no different. And think, when you come home everyone will come to realize how much they’ve missed you! Me included.”

“It’s not that I’m…” You start haphazardly. Well, it’s not that you’re reluctant to do the Offering. To adventure otherwise prohibited land and by yourself, to prove that you can handle life just fine and don’t need to be seared by the judgement of deploring eyes. Some time to enjoy solitary peace. It wasn’t even a whole day, dammit, but you’ll take what you can get. You choose to lie, “I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ll make sure to pace myself. Besides, I’d run myself short if I finished in half-a-day like you.”

Tae puffs, a little proud of himself, “What can I say… I’d like for the little ones to look up to me.” You roll your eyes, scanning your bed for your scarf. Taehyung eyes the cloth as you wrap it around, a rare moment of quiet. He stares, entranced, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so focused. As you think about inquiring his statue-like manner, you notice that more of the silence is due to the disappearance of the squawking hens. Those sly, evil matchmakers.

You suddenly pull him along and towards the exit, “You can’t be in here. You’ll get us in trouble.”

He blinks dumbly and slumps against your ministrations. “Your aunts seemed to be fine with it. And it’s not like I haven’t snuck in your window a few… several times.”

Your expressed sheepishness is his favorite source of entertainment, “Goodness, as kids! You make it sound so rebellious.” He winks as if you share a grand secret, all to his imagination of course.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was the village’s be-all and end-all. Born to work and carry everyone else on his back. He stands tall with his shoulders wide and prominent, chestnut waves that reached his cheekbones now. Shirt tight around his torso in ways that could excite anyone that risked a glimpse. You can’t help but find it amazing how much of a crybaby he was when you were young and how sturdy and dependable he is now. He was humorously your polar opposite.

You try to shoo him once more, “Anyways. I’m getting ready and you can’t see me. Go wait with everyone else!” His pout is jarring paired with his hard, strong build. Like a teddy bear with abs and palm blisters from years of physical labor.

His body moves on his own at some point, reluctantly reaching for your door handle, “No parting kiss upon my cheek, fair lady?”

It’s obvious he’s being more daring these days. With frequent visits and gifts on your doorstep, and now requested kisses. The whole town knew you were likely to marry him, a relief for most. But on your hand, you’ve just known him for so long. Practically since you were born. You’ve already shared kisses, you’ve already had those butterflies in your stomach; but the kisses were stolen in secret and the butterflies were stagnant. And although it was never a consistent nor official courting, you felt as though Taehyung was already a route taken. You know better to never admit that into the air, though. Not when everyone expected your cooperation with marriage at the least. To care for someone so special, and to bear his children plump and healthy.

What a static life to live, you try not to think. You instead try to blame such thinking on your inferiority complex, to at least ease some of that horrible guilt in your stomach. You should be grateful for your life. Talentless yet adored. A village princess that was easy on the eyes and sought after by those looking for that beauty and its accompanied dowry.

A proposal was near, that much you could tell with his efforts. In his perspective, the sooner the better lest he want someone else to steal you from him. Contradictory to your own reasoning, the only relief you find is that it is him, your dearest friend. Perhaps the only one to disregard your shortcomings and want to fill your empty spaces as much as he can. He cared about you and that could be enough. So you try to convince yourself of that.  

You kiss his cheek softly and without hesitation. Not so much as a blush. He suspects nothing less than mutual adoration and takes his leave like you request, leaving you alone in silence for a relieving twenty seconds. Then the hens come back inside and squabble about who will be able to sew together your future gown.

 Part Two

It starts under the old pine tree on the far side of the village. A crowd gathers as you wait under the swaying branches, mutters and looks of excitement apparent. A cleric waits beside you with three elder women who prepare your things: a woven satchel loaded with the items that you are to lay out, things like dried flowers, fruits, fine wines, tapestries, collected crystals, baked goods and the incense. A replica display of what little the humans had presented at the foot of the seraphs. Untouchable beings with class and power much above your own. Kindness as well, so it seems; to be provided with just this and offer unparalleled assistance to a hopeless cause in the old wars. You wondered if they still watched from afar, curious to the well-being of their mortal neighbors.

"Dear, keep your mind with us. You'll be off shortly," one of the grandmas whisper, placing a carved selenite athame into a leather holster and slipping it into the confines of your robe, "For protection." You smile and thank her kindly, tuning back into the ceremony and waiting for the second elder. They continue to adorn you in charms and traveling goodies, eventually piling on unnecessary weight that will, for sure, slow you down in the process. The trek was basically a day’s trip. If you moved efficiently, you should be home no later than when the sun begins to set, in time for supper even. As much as you’d like to stay out longer, you dare not risk a night in the mountains.

“—this year’s representative will be just as prosperous. May she bring good fortune and health onto our town just as the many before her has done so,” the old cleric roars into the audience, just about finishing his speech as you start to listen. You hope he didn’t say anything too significant. Can’t possibly hang on to every dry word when you were so close to tasting temporary freedom.

You make your way into the parted sea of people, some who grip your hand as you walk by to invoke strength as you move along. A few grumble good luck’s and come back safe’s. Then an angry baker charging through helpless bodies.

“Take this, you stupid girl. You were supposed to stop by the bakery this morning,” Seokjin whines, thrusting what seems to be a warm pastry wrapped with cheesecloth into your hands.

“Thank—Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bug…”

Jungkook pops in from nowhere, hitting your shoulder a little too playfully, “Chin up, love. Don’t be back too soon.” You nod shyly as he distances behind. Jungkook always had a strong nose for your facades but he also always kept your secrets. Clutching your things tightly, you watch your boots as they pick up speed through the mess of attention.

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

You leave northbound until you no longer hear their cheers. Until the snow no longer has indented prints and you think you’re alone and off to the races. A sudden tension snaps when you release your sore cheeks from an artificial smile, not even aware you were sporting one in the first place. There was always a heavy pressure when you presented yourself to the public, and while you were no damn princess, everyone ensured that you at least feel the looming responsibility of one. Curse your family’s political ties and all that, otherwise you wouldn’t give a damn if you seemed like an old witch spotted once in a blue moon.

When you reach the border gate is when you see Taehyung for the last time today. It comes as a surprise to see him waiting for you like a loyal dog, dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes, red cheeks a striking contrast against the bright setting. If you were more grateful, you’d think he looks particularly good today. If anything, it strikes you more that you failed to see his face at the send-off.

“Hey. I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone else… and today of all days but if I don’t right now, I don’t think I ever will,” he jumbles. In his hands hold a scarlet scarf, the same one you had seen as a child when his mom would occasionally take care of you, let you help bake, and playfully dress you in her accessories. All but that scarf, folded neatly and tucked into a corner or her closet.

“Oh! Don’t touch that, love,” she said, “That’s something my mother-in-law made for me.”

You had pouted then, a spoiled brat of sorts. But Taehyung’s mother’s eyes were always warm and she spoke softer than cashmere, “I have to give that to my son when he decides to marry. Will you make sure he finds the right one, for me? You are his best friend, aren’t you?”

You remember the challenge you felt, yelling without hesitation, “Taetae will marry me! When we grow up I’ll be his bride and you won’t have to worry!”

She giggled in contentment, eyes squinted in a wide smile and petting you lovingly, “Ah, of course. I know you’ll be a wonderful wife, Y/N. Taehyung will be in great hands.”

“I had been there, you know,” Taehyung chuckles, “When you claimed you’d be my wife when we got older. I was hiding in the hallway and initially, I thought, ‘I’ll never marry my best friend!’. But, now… I just can’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else.”

You grin at him sadly. Of course he had been holding onto this his entire childhood.

“Taehyung…”

“We’re still young, I know that. I just want to give you this for your trip to make me feel more at ease and so you can think about it. You can take all the time that you need. I know Mother wouldn’t mind, especially for you.” You nod. It’s all you can do. Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses your hair. When he pulls away, he wraps your neck into the warmth of the scarf you’d always wished to wear. But it’s almost suffocating now, locking in your fate before you even step out of the village boundaries.

“For now, just come back to me. I’ll be waiting for you no matter what you decide.”

You can fathom the communal disappointment of rejecting your strongest suitor. More importantly, you would be shameful to turn down his proposal. Once it was out there, there was no “decision”.

You can imagine your aunts now, squealing in delight and sewing from their best cloths.

 Part Three

Though you never had the chance to explore much, this really was nothing you've ever seen before. An ominous stairway carved into rock weaved in and out of your trail which made it fairly easy to follow along. You can't imagine the labor that went into sculpting this far ahead and all the way up the side of the mountain; it was truly something mind-boggling. As the air begins to thin, the amount of snow starts to grow thicker. If you had waited any longer into the winter you wouldn’t even be able to see the path, you’re sure.

You only need to stop twice to catch your breath and sit down. Snacking on the bread Jin gifted you only a few hours ago. It’s satisfying to look back at the area you’ve covered, how small things look from your height and the beauty of a fresh snow blanket. The scenery to the riverbank was nowhere as near breathtaking to that of the mountain. A dreamscape of evergreen trees and varying shrubbery, crossing over a short wooden bridge floating over a near-frozen stream, even occasional wildlife prancing into view. The summit itself wasn’t terribly high. It was manageable to hike for the most part, more so that your goal wasn’t to reach the peak. 

You could travel all the time, you think. Hike or take a horse somewhere farther than here but that’s not very practical. There was nowhere really to go and you didn’t have the luxury to just up and leave your household, and now Taehyung. The knots in your brain seem to loosen, blame the inclination and dry air infiltrating your head. Knowing your life was to be faced someday and all your immature ambitions to leave the village now seeming childlike and unattainable. The pessimism had yet to blow out your weak flame of philosophical rebellion but it was surely keeping you in check.

Judging by the sun's position, it's midday. Meaning it shouldn't be long before you catch sight of the "manor" and thus will be halfway finished with your journey.

You nearly walk off the cliffside before you notice the route's abrupt change and how it slithers deeper into the eye of the mountain. The farther you walk, the closer the earthy walls begin to shut in on you in a trench-like structure. It's even more unbelievable coming upon a short archway, perhaps man-made and mined through a boulder that could have fallen from atop one of the peaks. Being here, you realize, makes you feel small. Slithering through the terrain like a fairy in the tales your mother had told you at night. Of beasts and cryptids that could appear in the tangles of forest and vanish all in the same. There was a sort of dreamlike trance you found yourself in as you walked under the rock as if it were a portal.

And, unexpectedly, it's there. Atop a few more dreadful flights of stairs, hidden between an odd bundle of trees and beneath a fresh veil of snow, you can barely make out the silhouette of a house. It's still a bit far and eerily surrounded by fog but it's there and it almost looks as if it's... floating. Like a gateway to a secret nook of heaven.

It's one of those odd, puzzle-like mirages when you climb more steps to think you're only getting farther from the house. The swaying of branches keeps you from determining just how big it is and what it could possibly conceal. Even the atmosphere, chill and intimidating, makes your heart skip in perplexed anticipation. Having been at this for hours, if the staircase hadn't just ceased you would have kept walking straight into the dark wooden door.

But your aching legs find relief in the stretching flat surface of a porch and your exhilaration to reaching such a majestic destination that you could squeal. Of course, you don't, and instead get started at the task at hand.

You kneel onto the cool floor and begin to unload your things, neatly and without the need to rush. You lay stones on each corner of the tapestry to hold it down, you lay out the contents in somewhat of an aesthetically manner, you strike a match to light the incense and you mumble your thanks on behalf of the village, all as you were told. The snicker under your breath comes unwarranted as you finalize the display, even Taehyung couldn't have done this well.

It feels a little anticlimactic; a little short-lived. To have come up this whole way and spend a maximum of five minutes in somewhere you could spend days exploring. Idling, you can practically hear the warning clucks of your aunts engraved into your brain.

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

"Even think of doing anything funny and I'll have Seokjin roast you alive."

Maybe it's why it's even more satisfying to you when you ignore them altogether, standing from your position and just dying to see the rest of the manor's exterior. One peek, one peek and I'll never stray from instruction ever again, you think. Just my last burst of freedom and then I promise to be a good girl with no more personality than a wet dish rag.

So you tiptoe to the massive door and lean your ear against it as if you could hear anything with its size and the strong winds. You questioned if anyone even lived here, void of any decorations or signs of recent activity. Maybe the deer would get to the food you laid out before someone even stepped foot on the property prior next Offering.

When there are no obvious indications of life do you weasel your way around the corner, an extension of the porch wrapping around the side of the house to much of your assumption and revealing an expanse of space. The cabin was two stories at the least, maybe even three if not had been for the first story windows and how incredibly tall they were. You could only imagine the comfort of being inside such a space, being able to wake and watch the snow behind a glass wall of incredible proportions. While you ogle the window do you, of course, fail to realize that it's transparent and startle a bit when something begins to move.

The reflection makes it a bit difficult to pinpoint, a large dark figure shifting ever so slightly in its confines. Like a complete buffoon, you near the wall even closer with squinted eyes just making out the shapes of an entity.

Whatever it is, it's incredibly large. A heart in shape and composed of monochromatic blacks, reaching the floor and surely much taller than you. It was killing you that you couldn't figure out what the hell it was, well-near leaning against the glass as you peer into the private space.

You freeze in place as the elongated heart is really in the shape of wings, accompanied by a body as they’re dragged behind it like a veil. Long and dark and ruffling occasionally as their owner rotates a bit...

But you don't get to see his face. The man in which you firmly believed could be nothing but a myth; as propaganda by the village elders to keep your actions in check. Rather, the seraphs were more authentic than you could have ever imagined, and as magical and inspiring as it may be, so are the Offering rules that are now proved and justified, and that could only mean that this was very, very unfortunate timing to be snooping around property that was not yours.

Your feet scramble backwards in attempt to flee out of sight, instead graciously slipping against the frozen wood and causing you to land quite harshly on your side. Your hip burns at the impact but more horrifyingly important, the crash rattles the side of the floating stoop and his eyes burn into your pathetic body. The moment is wedged between fractions of a second, eye contact barely existent but it's enough to see the daggers in the seraph's irises. It's enough of a warning for you to get back onto your feet and sprint as carefully as possible away from such a gaze that could light this winter wonderland into disastrous flames.

All that comes across your mind as you rush down the steps is how wrong you were. How you unjustly became more and more skeptical of the stories and legends of the creatures that existed in the crevices of the mountains. How numb you became to the warnings as your age drew near for your rite of passage. How much of a taboo you would become if you were to ever tell a living soul that you witnessed a seraph and its marvelous wings. Not that you would.

Your ability to run brings you to the realization that you forgot your things but it was beyond you now. For once in your life, you cherish the idea of being home and hiding under the covers in the tranquil warmth of a familiar fireplace. To dream away the moment that dark angel caught a sly fox trespassing into his territory and, rightfully so, looking as if he craved to skin it alive.

You yelp at the sudden caw of ravens as they fly overhead. Their screeches send shivers to your bones, a sudden chill slowing you down. Rustling in the nearby trees deem you completely terrified, a gut feeling deducting the possibility of winds blowing that strong in the middle of dense shrubbery. Your heart drops once more; your athame was left in the abandoned bag.

The last time you had seen a wolf was when you were barely a toddler, sleepily held in the arms of a younger (and much kinder) Mina. It lurked in the woods just past the fields, a little young and possibly separated from its pack. But wolves were smart and they knew better than to make trouble in a town of loud humans. You remember the way it pulled its ears back and slinked back into the sanctity of its wild home and never to be seen again.

These wolves were smart too, howling their announcement upon finding a small, weak girl all alone and oozing dread. Two pairs of eyes track you as their corresponding bodies stalk out of the bushes, large and sleek and beautiful. Both grey and both incredibly hungry, they begin to pace around you maybe 100 feet away. You startle back and up a stair, most favored option to return to the cabin and retrieve your bag, maybe stay near for a bit until the creatures leave but then another, black and larger than the other two, barks harshly and stands its ground on your sacred steps. You are royally trapped.

“Stay… Stay back,” you warn dumbly, looking to the only open direction in the woods. You wouldn’t be as fast as on the path as long as you had to maneuver through the snow but you could possibly break off a hefty branch. Enough to ward them off to get back to the cabin and pray that the seraph doesn’t pose more of a problem than flesh-eating hounds.

So you sprint, robes clenched in your fists and boots sinking into the pillows of ice, disappearing into the trees and disregarding the snarls that start up behind you. You look desperately for something, anything to help you. Snow begins to find its way into your shoes each time you trip over yourself, wetting the soles of your feet. Hands scraping against bark with each twist and turn and your fingers burn. You only look back occasionally, seeing no more than one pair of eyes at a time at a short distance. This must have been a fun game to them, howling their contents into brisk air.

The black dog truly appears from nowhere, a flash of teeth from your left peripheral before it tackles you to the ground the same moment you find a dead branch and thrust it into its snapping jaw. It all happens too fast. You yipe as you roll through the fall, wolf teeth still digging through your only weapon and snapping the poor thing to two. In pure desperation, you dig the sharper broken half into whatever it’s willing to hit. Fortunately enough, the wolf whimpers and tumbles off you. Then you’re off once again, adrenaline ringing in your ears as you don’t even care to recall which way is which, as long as it’s away from, what can you assume was, the Big Bad Alpha.

More howls from them, more cries from you.

You’re able to return to the path without another spotting. It turns out you were going the wrong way when you’re also met with the narrow exit and that cursed archway. A gateway to inevitable death.  

Halfway through the gap in manic rush and you’re face to face with a beast so pale that it camouflaged with the flurry encasing you both. Eyes clear as water and almost… comforting. Even with the low rumble in its throat and one paw in front of the other in a slow, tantalizing chase. The others growl behind you, an enraged black-furred monster bleeding from its right eye socket turned quite smug now knowing that you were completely, utterly trapped.

It’s when the white wolf soundlessly drags a deep wound into your thigh while the three merely watch is when you ascertain that it is, undoubtedly, the pack leader. You fall back as the beautiful thing toys with you, snatching the front of your thick robe and shredding it with a sickening rip. You scream for the first time this entire chase, grabbing at Taehyung’s scarf in fear that it got caught along with it, caring for it more than your own life at this point.

The scream must have been piercing enough to discombobulate your attacker, it’s large ears flitting around as it jumps away from you. It’s even more of a shock when they all flee out of the divide, leaving you bleeding and too traumatized to move an inch. Whatever alarmed them devastates you even more.

The ravens caw loud and the ground vibrates. Watching the birds circle in the sky, you notice the way pebbles begin to crumble from each peak, how snow begins to over pile on such weak grounds and the way it begins to slide inward.

It’s an odd sound; snow sliding against other layers of snow and having so much weight that it pulls a few small trees with it. And this trench-like area only had so much space and you were positive the amount of white that begins to hurl towards you would fill it like a water cup; bury you with absolutely no chance of being able to dig your way out. Despite your fear, you cower at its charge and wait for the weight to hit.

 And then your head lolls back against something wonderfully warm and dry. You were completely soaked but too exhausted to shiver. In your last moments of consciousness, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you see the ground as the sky and the sky as the ground and feathers as feathers. You think of home. Think of warm summers where you would dip your feet in the riverbed. Think of bonfires with Jungkook and Jin and Hoseok and even Taehyung. But everything is still snow and you think you’re beginning to loathe each damned flake. The only comfort you find is the homeliness of the carmine red material that blows softly against your face. With that and the fleeting thought that you might be righteously transported to heaven do you finally pass out.

 Part Four

Yoongi wasn’t particularly fond of humans. Unlike his brothers and sisters that sympathized with such weak creatures enough to put their own lives at risk, it was just something he would never come around to understand. Species were organized and separated for reasons and intermingling was a curiosity that died ages ago for him.

Which is all a hypocritical contradiction when he sees you sleep soundly on his common room couch, changed into dry clothes and buried beneath a heap of duvets. Whatever had possessed him to go after you was pure impulse after the stunt you pulled on him. Prowling around on private property and, more importantly, breaking the village’s strict ritual rules. Catching him going about on what would be another unmomentous day in his schedule, creating enough of a ruckus to capture his attention, and then fleeing as a feeble mouse.

It’d be a lie if he had said he didn’t watch you scramble away down the steps from the comfort of his front door and a fresh coffee in hand, watching you stumble over nothing on your way. It was more when you had left your things like a pure imbecile, food and tools and all, and left without even waiting for the incense to finish burning. It was then that he came to the conclusion that you were incredibly clumsy and that served as entertainment to him.

The howls were his test of will. Knowing the dogs were way farther up the mountain than they normally were and supposing they had followed your poor, unfortunate soul during your trek, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And you were practically handed to them on a silver platter, considering you’d left your only knife on the cold wood of his porch.

Maybe he had come down, grumpily disturbed from his peaceful Saturday, more to save himself from cleaning the remnants of someone eaten in his vicinity more than the compassion to save you. But that was a tad bit too cruel, even for him. He thinks it was more of that uniquely curious glint in your eyes as you practically skipped into his sight. Daring enough to ignore those rather ridiculous warnings and try your luck. Delicate as a deer in hunter’s perspective. As often as he’d go out to restock supplies in neighboring towns would he never come across a visitor in his own domain. Call him quaint, but it was a mediocre surprise.

He prods the fire, making it crackle and reflame with more vigor. It had barely been a few hours since he’s saved you by the skin of his teeth, almost caught in the landslide himself.

He checks the wound on your leg once more, cleaning it again before securing it in bandages. If only he had gotten there faster, Yoongi tsks, but you’d strayed from the path and he could only follow the prints so quickly before they were covered by the flurry. By the time he found you again, you were knelt in front of the pack and submitting to your death. Had he not been on a hill, had he not been able to utilize his useless wings to glide down before the snow had claimed you first…

You groan softly, unable to roll around without a searing poker sinking into your thigh with each attempt. Contrast to the icicle state the rest of your body sported. You felt like hell. Like hell in hell guarded by those hounds. Hell in your thigh and hell in your head and hell in—

“Don’t move too fast. You have a fever and I just replaced your bandages,” a disembodied voice orders. Your eyes snap open to tall, wooden ceiling. Sitting up is your first horrible mistake, dropping back down immediately with a pained wheeze.

“I just said not to move too fast. If you can sit up normally, you should drink some water. I have some here,” it speaks again. You try again cautiously, blurry spots ruining your vision the farther up you scoot. A silhouette is kneeling beside you, maybe a cup in his hand but you’re too jumbled to confirm.

Yoongi tries his best to fold in on himself, lowering the obvious limbs stuck to his back and appear as human as possible. You wouldn’t be able to run again in your state but he tries his best to be courteous to your skittishness anyway.

“Where… Where am I?” You dazingly question. You don’t really… recall too much. Last memory somewhat muddled between your send-off and contact with those treacherous wolves, very few in between and serving no importance if you couldn’t remember how it ended.

“You’re safe in my house. In the mountains still. You passed out pretty good out there, been out for a bit. Now drink.”

It’s easy to do as your told with you’re running off little brainpower, downing the water hastily.

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

At some point, you can see again. The blankets that cover you and the large room you inhabit. Of course, the seraph from earlier that awaits by your seat. His seat. But you feel no urgency to scurry into safety. You were discombobulated, sure, but you knew enough that this man was kind enough to bring you into his home and care for you. So you fold back the material slowly and watch his face contort into confusion as you try to stand.

“I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for treating me.”

“Woah now. You’re in no condition to be standing. Besides, the path is blocked. Snow was too heavy and caused a slide. I doubt it’ll clear until the spring,” he informs, looking out the window as if to drag your own attention to it. The snow stopped but it’s fallen a few feet, at least. The path, you remember, chased by wolves and led into an ice trap. The few split moments in which the man must have scooped you up before your demise, remnants of being carried back towards his estate.

His place, in which is even more amazing inside than it was outside, a luxurious wooden mansion of sorts, tall and spacious and filled with those incredible windows that displayed better than you could have ever dreamed. The man himself that sits beside you draws full attention. Despite his position, he was large and still intimidating as the moment you crossed sights for the first time. Hair matching his wings in dark palette, soft and delicate looking. His face anything but, sharp eyes and thick brows, lips that curved into a simper. Above all, he looked more human. Even as radiant and prepossessing as he was, if the cape of wings didn’t follow him where he went he would look just as human as the rest of the population.

“Are you a seraph?” You ask dumbly. Dumb, because he laughs and because he obviously is.

“Are you a human, pretty thing?” He retorts. There’s no condescending lilt to his words but it makes him seem otherworldly to you. With such a provoking question and your lightheadedness, he seemed a blessing to be inhabiting such an earth.

You melt into the cushions once more, leg throbbing and eyes heavy. You watch his wings as they bob with his breath, “They say it’s bad luck to lay eyes on the wings of an angel…”

“Why would that be?,” he scrunches his nose, maybe a little appalled by the idea, “Such a misleading myth. Besides, I’m no angel.”

You don’t know why he stands to leave the room after that, unnoticing how you fall back into sedation a minute later.

 Part Five

You wake with clarity. Check your thigh to find it almost completely healed over except a now lingering scar. All’s left is a dull soreness but god it felt so much better. Enough to stand and stretch in the empty room. Enough to coherently realize that you only wear your underwear while the rest of your garments hang torn and sadly on the fireplace screen. It’s not as unbecoming if it had to be done for the sake of your health and wellbeing, right?

Getting dressed is easy when you don’t even bother with your robe, the gash decreeing it useless and instead tying Taehyung’s scarf around your shoulders as a shawl over your tank. You’re lucky it didn’t get torn.

There’s a fleeting moment where you really think you miss Tae, feeling a little regretful to being so afraid of his proposal in light of the recent accident. You’re sure he must be worried sick; must think you’ve perished under the debris and snow if he’s come to look for you. As his best friend, you solemnly wish he was here to hug you close and promise that it would all be okay. To fend off your shame and welcome you back into the village with teary eyes and a warm smile.

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

You whip around to discover fox eyes in the door frame, poorly lit now that it’s nighttime. The moonlight pairs well with how it sits on his milky skin, almost something out of a painting.

“It’s Y/N. Not ‘human’.” You answer a little sharper than you mean. He notices too, quick to wave it off since he really had popped up out of nowhere. He tries your name once on his own tongue, a satisfying thing to say.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Min Yoongi, in case you don’t want to call me seraph all the time.”

You suddenly grab your thigh, rubbing it over your pants in questionable disbelief, “How long have I been asleep? My leg is almost fully healed…”

He rubs at his eye, a little nonchalant about the scene at hand, “Only overnight and throughout the day today. It’s probably quarter to nine about now. I had medicine to help your cuts heal over nicely. Call it, uh, advanced seraph technology.”

The gashes hadn’t been incredibly deep to begin with, thankfully not going any further than the first layer of skin and just really causing some bleeding, but it was still amazing. The feeling is short lived. Even if only a day, you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“Thank you, um, Mr. Min. For saving my life and everything after that. I’d like to repay you sometime. But for now I’m afraid I should be heading back, I’ve stayed for too long. I’m sure I can find some way over the path.”

It dawns on you that Yoongi is a little facetious, especially when he purrs a, “Well you can do whatever your little heart desires, but I’m here to remind you that there is no path. Here, look out the window.”

You do, tiny bit distracted when he stands by you to point out the ridges of the mountains that surround you. “See those? How they curve in towards the top and how it sort of resembles a bowl? This area was made only for seraphs to get in and out of generations ago; flight only. Trying to climb it would be suicide on both sides. The path that goes through was strictly for human use, and if that’s blocked, there’s no way out, little one.” You weren’t the shortest in your village but Yoongi truly was massive, both lanky and filled-out somehow. Like there’s underlying strength to his lean build. You’re sure if you were to stand directly in front of him, the top of your head would barely surpass his sharp shoulders.

You disregard his name for you, a bit annoyed at this point, “Could you not fly me over the pass?”

Yoongi repeats in disbelief of such a daring request, “Fly… You over the pass… No. I’m sorry. I won’t do that. If you truly want to figure it out, you should do so soon. It's storm season."

Gritting your teeth, you express your discontent for once. What did he save you for, then? For points? You didn't know members of the almighty seraph clan were so keen to half-completed deeds. "And why not? Wouldn't you rather I be on my way? What am I supposed to do if I can't leave?"

"You forget yourself, Y/N. Did I not save your life? Chase after you and save you from being crushed? Buried alive?" He takes a second to straighten himself out, aware of how you look to your feet in frustration.

"Hey," he starts again, "I know you'd like to go home. I only tell you the truth of your situation in its entirety. If I could fly you over the pass I would but unfortunately, I'm out of commission."

You feel heat in your face, embarrassed of the way you address a complete stranger even after all the things he's done for you. But this was frankly a sticky situation to find yourself in, trapped and unable to get Yoongi to help you any further. Though you do wonder what he means by his last statement...

"I'm... I'm sorry. I don't mean to make demands. I'm just scared and in a place I'm not used to and I'm not quite sure what I'm to do from here. Is there no one else who can help me over?"

Yoongi averts his gaze before he shakes his head, "I'm the last one in this country."

That's even more odd to hear but you don't prod for information that isn't yours to learn.

In silence, you contemplate the work that even went into carrying another human body by use of wings that were structurally built for the owner's own weight and possibly nothing else. Now was not the time to be ignorant.

“What am I supposed to do?” You mumble weakly. Yoongi watches your gears turn warily, stress surely beating down on you.

He rubs his neck, ruffles his left wing, “Listen. I promise I’ll help you back come spring. You won’t be able to make a dent in the landslide as long as it continues to build with snow every night.” He tends to forget that humans are pack animals, often lost without one another and feeble in the hands of species not of their own.

Your doe eyes, beginning to well with tears, convince him over tenfold, “I’ll help you in any way possible to pay you back for all the things you’ve done. I know I’ve caused nothing but trouble but if you have the room, is it possible I stay here?”

And Yoongi had enough vacant rooms to house a whole herd of deer now that he’s been alone for these sum of years. It really was no trouble… and he could make use of you as long as you stayed. His brow shoots up, “You can stay.”

Your grin is enough to light the whole room encased in night’s darkness, looking back down to the ground now knowing you had some hope to hold onto in such an eventful day. A whisper of a thank you Mr. Min is thrown in and Yoongi can feel his fists tighten.

He clears his throat, standing a little taller than he already is and acting strict, “But there are some rules. And you can just call me by my first name.”

 Part Six

 It's always a little weird trying to adjust to new scenery. Though your past experiences have been anticlimactically different than this; not exactly the first time visiting a friend's house or dropping off delivered goods from Seokjin's shop and awkwardly facing an elder who forces you to stay for tea.

Yoongi had shown you around the areas you needed to know. Offered you the closest room to the main part of the house with a king bed, fresh sheets and your own majestic window to stare out of. The living room which you had rested in before and the kitchen, grand and spacious just like everything else. He showed you a greenhouse out back that was utterly ginormous. Stone walkways and a hot compost keeping it from freezing, rows of plants you both have and haven't witnessed before. And again, he showed you what you needed to know.

That goes onto the chores he assigned you as long as you stay, to help him clean come Sundays and manage the plants throughout the week which served as no problem. At least with horticulture you proved some use, struggling throughout the weekend to do anything else but cause Yoongi a bit of a headache.

Tuesday rolls around and Yoongi stops by your room with stationary. Tells you he has a messenger bird to deliver any letters you desire to send home and you hop on the opportunity quicker than the landslide had tried to eat you up.

Of course, it was an exceptionally long letter. Longer than the papers Yoongi had given to you and he had to fetch more when you looked absolutely devastated sitting at your desk. You began with the simple phrase, "I'm okay." Filling it with a volley of explanations and apologies, how you were nearly killed, how the seraph had scooped you up to safety and how you inhabit his home now until further notice. You write how you talk, sure the recipients are sure to read in hushed mumbles and run-on sentences. You explain that there's no use to try to get home now while the clouds continue to precipitate and gate your only exit from the bowl-like wonderland. You end with how you miss them already, a request to send back an update or two every once in awhile, and a final wish to have a happy winter without you (though you're sure they won't appreciate that joke).

You think, if they really receive the letter, how terribly furious they'll be with you. Taehyung and Jungkook will probably come hiking up the mountain to try to put a dent in the debris and fail miserably. Your aunts and how they must feel even the tiniest bit of guilt for thinking you so small and helpless. Mina and her jealous wonder that you've done it now, how you've seen a seraph before her and you're positive she'll have a flurry of questions when you return. When you return.

You come out onto the balcony to pay your respects to your so-called "messenger", pretty white thing large and wide-eyed. Humorous is the familiar to another winged being, bird of a feather, you chuckle to yourself. Yoongi pays no attention when he murmurs directions to the bird and sends it off, straight in the direction you were hoping.

Thursday and you think you finally have your routine down. No longer unsure in the hallways and able to sit when your work is done without feeling completely out of place. It's only when you're around the other member of the cabin do you feel a little subdued, reminding you that you burden him and quickly finding something to do out of that guilt.

❋

Today you feel a bit sluggish. You drag yourself down the corridor, opting for the bath until you see a dark head in an open room. Yoongi sits in his study, presumably reading with his back facing you. You can't say you've seen this room before, ceilings just as tall and walls just lined with books, journals, art pieces and things of the like.

"You can come in," he snickers suddenly, maybe feeling the heat from your eyes boring into the back of his head and warming the space entirely.

"This is amazing... Your collection, I mean." You force yourself down in a chair, hands trapped underneath your thighs in case they feel like touching anything.

"Thank you. It took quite a bit of time to build it up. Not by myself, of course."

It makes you ponder. If he's mentioned his state of loneliness twice, then your questions were expected.

"There were more, right? Family of yours? Why are you the only one left?"

"One question at a time, yeah?" He swivels around and takes off a pair of reading glasses that you would have liked to inspect on his face a bit more, "I can't leave because I can't fly, remember? They left because they held no other duty tied to this land. That's all."

You quiet. He returns to reading whatever it is on his flat desk. "Why can't you fly?"

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

"A story of a girl with a terrible habit of too many inquiries."

"You know, I loved to read when I was a kid. All kinds of things. Novels, studies, maps even. Now I never have the time for such pleasantries." A wistful sigh leaves your lips.

Yoongi eyes you beneath his lashes, watches as you survey the room with giddiness and hands taut underneath your bum. "Why's that?"

You frown, "Too many things to do. Jobs and cleaning and family and stress. If I have time to read, I have time to be doing something more important."

His lips curl, amused at this little play-thing in his room. Like a child scolded all her life, whining and pouting in front of a stranger. Yoongi stands tall and shrugs his sweater tighter around him, "Well then, you'd better hop to it."

"Hm?" You squeak, chewing on your lip when you meet his eyes. So innocent.

"You only have the winter to read these. I'd get started soon. After work is done and you want to poke around in here, feel free to do so. Take them to your room if you'd like, just please return them."

And he swears he sees damn stars in your eyes before he turns and leaves the room. He hears your immediate footing once he's halfway to his room, little yelps of excitement enough as his thanks. Yoongi can't help but smirk, eventually floating away and speaking way out of earshot for you to hear.

"Nothing is more important than the things you want."

 Part Seven

 After a month, you find it a little boring. After receiving a teary letter of how your family misses you, not one ounce of scold or chastisement more than it was just wholesome relief to see familiar handwriting, their only wish was for you to stay obedient and not write so often as to waste poor Yoongi's paper. It was typical, somewhat stress-relieving. And that was that.

It was often you spent your quiet interest reading of botany and romance (in what little you found of it) preferably in his study on days he's holed up in his room. At this point, he still remains somewhat of a mysterious entity, conversing when he must and accidentally showing his face once or twice like a ghost. The only times you really see him are for Sundays with idle chit chat.

One particular evening you find an old, ratty recipe book. Handwritten and falling at the seams and that's how you know that there are some golden tips in there for you to test out.

You choose pumpkin bread. Something to warm the palette while ice continues to build outside. And working in Yoongi's kitchen by yourself was oddly fulfilling, no one to correct you or send you off to another job if you fail to do the first. It's probably why your bread turns out perfect, slicing the loaf and placing a piece on a small plate for a friend.

Rather, someone you'd like to establish as a friend.

You haven't seen him once today; not odd but a little lonely. Pacing on the carpets and looking for an open door with any sign of a sly angelic being. Even after a month, it's the first time you've freely made something with intents of sharing with him. Was that rude of you?

Coming upon a jarred entrance, you speak softly, "Yoongi? Are you in there?"

No reply.

You clear your throat and toe the door open just enough to stand in its frame, "Yoongi? I made some pumpkin bread for us—"

Thank your soft voice does it not wake him, still a snoring log in a bed even larger than yours. His limbs sprawled widely, laying on his stomach and breath soft and slow. Sleeping in the middle of the day while his guest slaves over the stove must be quite nice, huffing subtly and placing his plate on his night desk. Sure to be spoiled even more when he wakes to a treat.

As you turn, your eyes can't help but dawdle over the expanse of his wings. One covering a naked back and one hanging off the side of the bed, a marbling effect of muddled sepias and ink blacks, occasional golden ochre pigments seeping through the deepest layers of feathers. It was utterly breathtaking. This has to be one of the first opportunities you've had to inspect them so, equating staring at his monstrously large wings the same as blatantly staring at his junk.

You draw close like a moth to a damn flame, checking to assure he's still sound asleep. Reaching delicate fingers, you dare to lay a palm on the mass. It's surprisingly strong, an odd firmness as you slide your hand down silky plains and watch as the feathers ripple by your touch.

Then, as if you weren't dumb enough to foretell the upcoming events, he wakes.

A whirl of darkness encases you, whips you around so fast that you see stars in the middle of day, completely flipped and pinned to the bed beneath you. The intense heaviness makes you recoil, unable to budge your wrists and legs with Yoongi's strength.

And his face of unadulterated fury is one that would be ingrained into your memories forever. Pupils dilated and nose scrunched like prey warding off predator. Yoongi was surprised to say the least, a scared frenzy of confusion as he growls down at you.

"What were you doing, human?"

Your weeping gains no mercy, "Ow, you're, you're hurting me!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" He spits.

Incoherence is not what he asks for but that's all you can give, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't touch them again I was just—"

His wings which were so beautiful to you before, makes you feel nothing but fear now, flapping angrily as he keeps his balance and shrouding you in shallow lack of light. When he lets up on his grip, you gasp like he also held your breath. Immediate relief streams through your blood, though he continues to trap you between his thighs. He asks you again and you sob.

"You know what happened the last time I let one of your kind close? Nearly fucking killed me for no reason. You know why I can't take you down the mountain? Why I'm stuck here by myself? Because a goddamn human stole my ability to fly. I can't fly anymore, do you understand me? That's all that I was and they took it!"

Yoongi sees the pity etching onto your face like some sort of charity case. With your pathetic excuse for tears that claim to sympathize with him and it makes the bile in his throat grow. As for you, you could have never imagined such a travesty. Those words that seem to bounce around in your skull, to be wholesomely one thing and to be rid of it by someone else's doing, you could never relate to that.

You itch to relieve his pain in some way as if he never lashed out on you to begin with. Like you were the one truly at fault here even though you know it's a two-way situation. Your hands struggle to not touch his face, to attempt to alleviate those dark, regretful feelings. "Yoongi, I'm so sorry. I would never—I would have never known--I'm from one of the villages where we look up to the—"

"Yeah, well I don’t trust people," He cracks, lungs filled with muddled sorrow.

Both of your breathing is ragged. He takes his leave off your body and sits on the edge of the bed, wings lamely drooped.

"Leave." So you do.

 Part Eight

 You find the most beautifully carved wooden bow the next morning. Sun barely risen and adventuring around in nooks you haven't looked through before. You find it, accompanied by plenty of arrows, leaning against the wall right outside the backdoor. Though it's been months since you've last hunted, you ache to make use of yourself. Wearing bundled layers of the clothes Yoongi let you borrow from what was left and bounding through the condensed areas of the woods behind the cabin.

Food isn't scarce to hunt for, you've come to realize. Rabbits abundant and easy to kill once you got the hang of it once more. Two are struck and red seeps through white. You always sink your knees into the ground after each kill, whispering your thanks before you move back to the house.

Taehyung's father had taught you the basics of hunting and fishing and everything that came after that. Skinning and cooking and preserving the flesh something everyone in the village should learn to do, he had said. Even after your mistakes, even after your hesitation for your first kill, he'd always pat you on the back and reward you with the first bite of fresh food.

You miss them all, especially now. It wouldn't be long until you saw them again with maybe a bit of heightened skills. You hope they'll be proud of you.

Yoongi wakes a little after you're finished cooking the first rabbit. He stumbles in quiet and groggy, as if having no recollection of the previous altercation. But he doesn't speak, doesn't so much as look your direction before he plops at the head of the dining room table and begins to sulk in an odd inner-turmoil state.

You wait a minute or two by garnishing the meat unnecessarily; perhaps he was waiting to say something. To apologize. To ask questions. To kick you out once and for all. Well, you'll beat him to it then.

You set his plate down in front of him, the jarring sound breaking his trance enough where he can finally meet your face.

"I hope you don't mind I used your bow. I cleaned the arrows afterward and put it back where I found it," you hesitate. "I appreciate your kindness thus far; to take me in like this. I was a complete stranger and you gave me shelter anyway, so I thank you. I've packed and cleaned and I—I think it's time I leave now. I'll find a way to get over, I don't care. And I'm, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused, Yoongi. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but I overstepped my boundary way too far yesterday and I apologize profusely."

You find that you dig your nails into your palms as you talk, head craned parallel to the floor and you wonder if Yoongi could even hear you when you were so rudely speaking to the rugs.

"Stop, you don't... You don't have to leave. There's still no way you can get over the snow." He massages the back of his neck, tense in his own skin.

"I'm so sorry," you repeat. "I let my stupid curiosity get the best of me and I can very clearly see how that made you feel alarmed and uneasy and—"

He cuts you off, "You know the myth, right? How it's bad luck to see a seraph's wings?"

Confused, you nod.

"It's not literal. It's a metaphor that it's bad luck to see our vulnerabilities. Our faults. Years and years and years ago, when the war was still active, I got mixed up with a human. Within enemy boundaries. I was naive and trusting and they made use of that. They sought out my weaknesses, ate 'em up and covered my suspicions with false adoration and love," he says the word like it's an illness, "But then. But then one night, they put something in my water. Drugged me. Something was wrong and I didn't fully go under. I suppose their original plan was to take me, probably torture me as a prisoner. But I caught on and still had a bit of composure and when they realized the drugs didn't work, they sought to kill me instead. Used a dagger and plunged it into my back as hard as they could. Right," he reaches an arm behind and massages a spot, "Right in the cross-section of where all four wings meet. I should have been paralyzed but we're tough. I can still move them but I haven't been able to fly since. Thank heavens I wasn't killed but..."

You can tell by the way that there’s no emotion in his statement, how true it rings, "That day, I might as well have been."

You wipe the pools of tears with your scarf, heartbroken for the shattered man that sat in front of you. Having to bear the sight of his wings every day and full-knowing he would never be able to use them again.

His voice croaks, "In their eyes, my own family's eyes, I commit a sin just by making such a fool of myself. The war ended and I was punished. They left me here and claimed loneliness is what I deserve."

Yoongi then realizes he sounds as if he's trying to justify yesterday's actions and literally sinks to the ground, "This isn't supposed to be a pity party. I just thought you might want to know why I am the way I am and how I had no right to snap like I did. I know you're from the north most village. And that you would never try to do what they did and I was wrongfully paranoid."

Then, out of all things unexpected, he grabs a bare ankle and lifts it out of the length of your dress. When you hobble, he grabs your gentle hand with his other to balance you. He can see the marks he left, not too dark but enough to tell and he can't help but despise himself. In pure remorse, he presses his lips softly to each bruise, not lingering for more than a second, before cowering to the ground with his head low.

"My sincerest apologies, Y/N. You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I prefer if you wouldn't. I'd like to get to know you and redeem myself, as selfish as that may seem. Maybe, until spring, I can make up for the things I've said and done—"

You sputter, voice too high and full of embarrassment as you struggle to pull him up, "Please! P-Please get up! I am at fault here! Don't kneel, please! You have nothing to make up for!"

Mouth agape and eyes wide, he watches you yell your affirmations and weakly tug on his arm. It was like watching a little kid throw a fit and that makes him chuckle aloud, how could he have ever suspected you as harmful? When your large eyes shed tears like no other and you impulsively make decisions for others before yourself. You were kind and he could see that. He laughs hard and you stop your squawking.

In disbelief you fall to your knees right beside him, looking plain stupid while you're at it. It occurs to you that you've never heard him laugh like this, smile so wide that his eyes crescent endearingly and it just lights up the room. After watching his handsome face radiate forgiving happiness, you join in too.

You eat rabbit together. The conversations from there on out easier to come up with, more emotional and found in the midst of tranquil understanding. Like you now shared a bit more of each other than before.

Occasionally, you think of all the sadness he must have accumulated until now. Of the things that happened to him that shouldn't have, and those years of isolation and abandonment that he suffered. But now you realize, too, how he's able to laugh and continue on despite those melancholy winters in a desolate place that he once called home. How it's all he can do as his only sign that he's still alive.

 Part Nine

The weeks after that seem to breeze past you; time racing when you have more things to do and someone to do it with. Yoongi really meant it when he said he would try to make up for his past harshness; never daring to miss a meal, spending more time in the livelier rooms if it meant that it was to accompany you, going as far as helping you out with your own chores if he hadn’t taken them over entirely. It was a polar opposite of who you knew before.

The first time he joined you to hunt again, in favor of how you had cooked his meat the last time, he layered himself in clothing that made his appearance softer than you’d ever imagined. Leaning towards darker garments that contrasted against his opalescent skin.

In some haughty attempt to show off your archery skills do you aim for a squirrel in a less-than-mediocre angle, letting the arrow fly without a second thought and piercing good ol’ trunk. Yoongi had a fabulous time laughing at your mishap, yanking the wasted arrow from the bark and handing it back to you.

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

The temperature of your cheeks could have melted the snow, taking the thing with shaky, embarrassed hands, “I was being hasty.”

“You got two rabbits. I know you’re good. Let me just show you some things.”

You walked behind, letting him tread through the snow first so it was easier for you to fall into his prints.

“There. Squirrel,” he whispered. Probably the same one, mindlessly crawling up and down trees like target practice.

“Let me see your form again.” You aimed, self-conscious and probably showed it. You shivered when he swiped a hand under your grip arm, pushing it back.

“Keep it aligned with how the arrow is facing. Completely centered. You can widen your feet a little too,” his voice soft. “Don’t completely lock your elbow but tighten your back muscles before you hold. Does that make sense?”

“Mm. It won’t stop moving though, the squirrel.”

“Watch this.”

Then Yoongi had dug through the snow for a small stone with enough weight to throw. Aiming for a far tree to the right, he tossed just hard enough to cause a knock to echo in its vicinity. The squirrel halts, presumably looking for what caused the noise in its unknowing last thoughts.

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

He watched you silently each time you had knelt next to the victim and mutter your thanks, both sorrowful and appreciative. It was the first time he ever witnessed someone, frankly, talking to dead animals and at some point he asked you why you did so. You responded with a giggle, briefly claiming how all living creatures deserve the same respect, to be mourned, to not be wasted. Yoongi finds interest in the concept of valuing each as their own and of the same importance in the Grand Circle of Life, probably something his family would never have stopped to think about. The seraphs had always placed themselves above others in a deserving, self-righteous kind of way. It made him think.

❋

A particularly windy night and you caught him in the seat of his study's window, drawn to the mirage of colliding trees and listening to the croaks of the house on its plot. A muddled bottle sat on his desk, its glass counterpart being twirled in his hand.

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

"I didn't used to," he answered, unfazed by your sudden entrance, "Caused problems a lot of times. But I think they're pretty fun nowadays. And you?"

"I like when there's thunder and lightning."

Yoongi faced you at that, your twiddling fingers and the way you scanned the dim room.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Although it was a question he poured you one anyway, barely anything more than a few sips worth. Obliging, you took the liquid. Pride a little stung in all honesty, pretty aware of your high tolerance.

He tittered, "Don't pout. You can pour as much as you'd like. But this stuff is ancient, concocted from poison and the desire of Death itself. Watch yourself."

It was always a trait of yours to take on a challenge, though, ignoring his warning and foolishly gulping it down. The burn was subtle despite its awful, awful taste, yet you poured another and let Yoongi watch you spiral down the rabbit hole.

Two stories and one half-glass later and you draped yourself very unladylike on his desk, too warm and too moist and too loud.

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

"Min... Min. Mr. Yoongi."

"That's wrong but that's me."

"Yoongi you have to keep a secret. That I'm going to tell you! From Yoo—from Yoongi!"

"Wait, that you're trying to keep a secret from me or—"

You must had forgotten, instead focused on bunching your skirt and tying it higher up your thighs, "Soooo hot. Too warm. I'm going to leave it like this, ‘kay?"

"You don't have to pass it by me. They're your clothes," he said, biting back laughter. His accidental peak of pretty, bare legs could have made him think different though. Reverting his gaze back out the window, he wouldn't have been surprised to see lightning that night.

Taking his eyes off you wasn't his best idea. Hobbled out of his chair and sneaking to his place with hands buried in feathers before he could shy away. Yet the wonder stained your eyes with childlike amusement and he wouldn't dare change that face. So he idled in a flustered mess, relaxed in the way you unknowingly massaged his muscles.

"Pretty wings, Mr. Yoongi... Can I touch them?" You asked stupidly. Yoongi grumbled.

When you finished evaluating, you swiveled awkwardly and tripped over his knee, a yelp escaping your lips as if he wouldn't catch you in one swift motion and onto the safety of his lap. Yoongi could smell the bite of alcohol that stained your breath; could see how swollen and red and beautiful it had made your gentle face. The proximity was deadly and your innocent, apologetic features could have slain him right then and there. You didn't even make another peep, eyes drooped in what he assumed was embarrassment for your clumsiness.

In which he thought wrong, your hands slapping each side of his face and squishing it together horrifically. "Pretty face, Mr. Yoongi."

"Alright, time for bed."

You fought all the way until he tucked you in, out with soft breaths and sprawled arms. Even after he had laid you down to rest and calmed back in his lair, there was no slowing the fondness that grew in his ribs.

❋

You don’t know when you’ve started looking forward to Sundays, springing out of bed in the morning with a green thumb and a will to dig, or so you imagine. You knew Yoongi would be waiting for you in the greenhouse and spent a little extra time rinsing your face, doing your hair, and double-checking nothing was in your teeth.

Yoongi was already checking the pots when you had gotten there, wrapped in black per usual and winking as you walked by. The familiarity by now was tangible. There was always a nice flow to your conversations and Yoongi doesn’t back away when you naturally find yourself in his space like he used to. It was both a prideful accomplishment and an endearing new relationship that sparked joy every time you were able to do something together. To step back and see the difference over your time spent here, the things you’ve done, and the way Yoongi warms up slowly.

He watches you mindlessly hum as you harvest what you can, voice soothing when most times it would have been dead quiet. That’s what it felt like being around you: like a void suddenly filled, his whole being gravitating to your aura. You were addicting, if he had to admit.

The scarf, somehow pristine despite how often you wear it, is shuffled up your neck as you do one thing or another. Like a constant reminder that it’s there, you always feel the need to touch it.

Yoongi points to it, “Did you make that yourself?”

“Hm?” You follow his line of sight and crumple the red thing in your hands, “Ah! No. It… It was a gift.”

“Ooh, from a suitor?” He doesn’t mean any harm when he jests but it prompts the things you’ve left at home. No matter how much you’ve tried to suppress it down and not nitpick on the responsibilities you’ll have to return to. Awful as it seems, it makes you take notice to the sun and how it begins to peak out more with every day. You push the thought down once more.

Instead you laugh nervously. Yoongi knows immediately when you say nothing but, “Mmm…”

His gut twists from a melting of surprise and disappointment. How could he be so dim? To not even hypothesize the mere possibility of someone else being in your life. Though the feeling weighs heavy on his head, he speaks lightly and with a smirk.

“You must miss him then.”

“Yes. Of course. We’ve known each other since birth and have been best friends for as long as I can remember!” You chuckle, “He gave this to me right before I left and claimed we could get married once I returned. I was so shocked that I made myself sick thinking about going back. Just nervous, I suppose.” Taehyung, as expected, never said anything in the occasional letter updates to you. He meant it when he said he would only wait to talk about it for when you came home but you ponder how he feels now; what he’s been doing. If he’s changed his mind once he’s realized how incapable you are that you couldn’t even do the Offering correctly, but you know that isn’t true. Maybe just wishful thinking.

You throw dead leaves in the compost and Yoongi eyes you.

“’Shocked’? It’s not something you’ve been looking forward to?”

You look down, “It’s not that I—I don’t know! I just have seen him as family for so long and then there’s this sudden proposal without even talking about it beforehand… And everyone expects it. For me to just be married and have a family and all of that but I just, I just don’t see that for me so soon.” Your words begin to jumble and Yoongi hasn’t seen you so stressed within the span of twenty seconds before.

“Forgive me and my input but isn’t the most important thing what you want? You could just turn down his proposal,” He suggests like it’s the easy answer, hoping you don’t suspect a hopeful tone in there.

“Does it really matter what I want?” You stop to think about the people who matter to you and what would ease their minds most when it comes to your future. Marrying Taehyung seemed like the only option. “I can’t turn him down simply because I don’t want to. That’s selfish.”

“That doesn’t make very much sense to me.”

“Well,” you sigh, “in the village it’s courtesy to accept a marriage proposal regardless of how you feel. It’s the receiver’s obligation to be grateful towards—”

“Is that how humans treat their women?” Yoongi spits, agitated just by the thought. He leans against a table next to you, arms crossed like he’s simply not having it, “To ignore your own say and force you to think you should just be appreciative? That’s some bullshit.”

“It’s not as serious as I’m making it seem it’s just…” You think of your aunts and the elders and Taehyung’s mom. How you’ve grown into a nuisance, lacking here or there. The time where you were supposed to return to the village after a successful Offering and marry and finally be someone to be proud of. “In my case, especially, it’s probably better off I’m just someone’s wife. I’ve never been much to begin with.”

And that’s truly heartbreaking for Yoongi to hear, so much that he becomes enraged with whatever twisted society you grew up in, “Y/N. What have you been doing these last few months?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, what have you been doing? Just sitting around? Watching me sweep circles around you? Serve your meals on a silver platter and draw your baths? No, because you’ve been doing that yourself. For yourself. By yourself.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to huff before he continues. “Sure, you were a little rough around the edges with some things but who isn’t? You hunt, you cook, you read like no other, you do a lot of great things and it’s not because you’re trying to do it right. You do it right when you like what you’re doing.”

“Yoongi, I understand. Thank you but you don’t have to—”

He walks toward you, lecturing on. “I know it’s by unwanted circumstances. But has your time here been horrible? Have you despised being here and doing these things?”

Your answer is immediate, “No. Not at all.”

“Has it not been nice to have your own space and do things simply because you want to? Because you were thinking of yourself?”

“I-It has been… I don’t know where you’re getting at.”

Your legs hit the corner of another table and you notice he’s backed you up into it.

“So, you go back and you do what you want like you have here. Don’t worry about what they think. Wait until you’re ready. Marry for absolute, unwavering love. Be a little selfish,” Yoongi hooks your chin with his index and props it up. You didn’t even realize you were looking to the ground. “Look up.”

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

So Taehyung is his name, Yoongi thinks. He frankly does not care.

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

“Perhaps I was mistaken. Do you want to marry Taehyung because you truly love him?”

You see his lips before you hear his words, parted and nearing you bit by bit. So close that you feel his warmth, aching to close the distance. “I…”

A shovel clatters onto the stone and Yoongi removes his arm that’s found its way around your back, shuffles backwards and lets your hand fall from his face. It was natural to touch him, you realize, unaware that you feel distant and cold when he’s away.

Yoongi picks the damn thing up and curses. It wasn’t like him to be so forward, close to doing the unimaginable to you. You, who was involved with someone else. Heading towards the door, he ruffles his wings like he’s restarting.

“Forget I said that,” he requests, “I’m going to wash up.”

You nod, frozen in your spot with legs too unstable to dare walk. Without even knowing you had reached for him, so close to doing something you’ve only been secretly daydreaming about of recent and how incredibly wrong it was for you to think this way. But in another sense, you would feel worse lying to yourself by saying you weren’t attracted to the seraph. It was a twisted contradiction of emotions and you could scream.

Needless to say, you don’t see Yoongi until the next day, and even then nothing is mentioned of the almost.

Part Ten

On Tuesday, the bird returns with a letter from your family and Taehyung. It’s brief, with evident relief that the snow is melting and how happy they’ll be to see your face. Your heart sinks at how much you miss them yet how angry you are to receive the letter. To what extent would they be happy to have you home? Until you dare humiliate Taehyung when you turn him down? To dishonor your name and his parents and gain the glances of people who care more about your failures?

You calm and shoo such immature feelings away. Yoongi is confused when you don’t send a letter back and you return to your room early that night.

❋

You haven’t had a full night’s rest that entire week. You’re sure Yoongi notices the tension and that makes you feel horrible, but the lingering necessity to run to him and never go back to the village is too prominent to just face head on.

He’s been checking the trail every day, making dents on the softer parts of the snow when he can and updating you when he returns. You know he doesn’t want you to leave and you know he thinks you feel the same. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything about the proposal that day.

Flipped onto your back, you stare at the ray of moonlight that floats atop your bed. You would miss it here, so much that it hurts your throat. You would miss the windows, the kitchen, the greenhouse, the library that Yoongi was happy to share. It goes without saying that you would miss him the most.

Unprompted imaging of a possible future with him interrupt your thoughts, something so uncertain and fortuitous in comparison to the stone-set fate you have now. What the stoic seraph would think if you just asked him to stay a little longer, until you know you would never leave. The landslide and how much you had hated that unfortunate event seems so insignificant now, replaced with a dimmed appreciation for this life detour, no matter how short lived it will end up.

You’re probably on the verge of sleeping now, thinking of the incident and it’s wild connection to your present out of pure lunacy. You could bet your entire existence on the fact that you were meant to meet him; your entrapment by the snow no mere coincidence. Neither was Yoongi’s endless solitude atop this mountain. It had to be fate that you two were to meet at this moment and your heart feels it so strongly.

Even for you this could be too far-fetched, or maybe you were just trying to cover up the way your heart is undoubtingly falling for Min Yoongi.

 Final Part

 You prod the logs, provoking them to catch more of the fire. In your last night do you decide to pour a glass of wine, kneel on a pile of blankets and snack on the charcuterie board you made for yourself. In the past, you used to be so hesitant about helping yourself to the manor’s amenities, having no problem doing it now.

The lame, weak fire is your only source of light in the large living room, clouds blocking the moon from shining through. You feel, immaturely, just as cloudy. Set in your intentions to leave your feelings locked away as to not cause more trouble, confusion, and inevitable heartbreak.

“You look quite comfortable,” Yoongi surprises you and he can tell when you jolt. Speaking of the devil. He looks great in the dark too, leaning against a wooden pillar with folded arms.

“Well, it feels like I’ve lived here for quite a bit. Just,” you break to sigh with exaggeration, “soaking it in before I leave. Too beautiful to not.”

If not for the crackling between the wood, it’d be dead quiet.

“Would you like to join me?”

He titters, rolling his eyes before he walks your way. Laying on his side, you offer him your glass. “I hope you don’t mind that I used the wine from the ritual contents. With the stuff you normally drink, this must be nothing.”

“Like water to me but I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

You cheers to nothing with one glass to share. Occasionally picking off meat and fruit from the board and enjoying how the fire builds up.

“Your family will be so happy to see you.”

You hum. You suppose they would. Avoiding the bitterness you still associate with the thought.

“And I’m sure Taehyung will be too.” He says a little clipped. Not in a way to be facetious or sarcastic but because he feels the need to address it.

Yoongi is caught on the carmine scarf again, downing the rest of your poor wine.

Forcing a smile, you speak faintly, “Let’s not talk about that.”

At this point you both know. He nods to keep you happy, but there is no hiding or pretending. In front of the flames, your lies and justifications seem to melt away unspoken. Changing the subject, you shove him lightly, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. I don’t think you’ll ever learn to bake as well as I do.”

He tuts, which is refreshing. “I’m great at cooking and baking, I’ll have you know. It was just nice having someone else do it for once.” You feign betrayal and scoff aloud. He mumbles low, “But I’ll miss you for more reasons than that.”

And he breaks an unmade promise not to bring it up again. Feeling the need to throw it out in the open and even with the simplicity of admitting that he’ll miss you, you really know what he means. The seraph feels for you. He feels deeply. Yoongi doesn’t expect a response, just pops more food in his mouth and rests his eyes.

You contemplate, following suit with a bite to a grape and thinking hard. What to do. What to say. How to say it if you did. You weren’t supposed to feel this way and it goes way beyond the rule of even coming in contact with a seraph, let alone unconsciously falling in love with one. 

But that’s just it: how you live by assumptions and rules based off the words of the ignorant villagers and the elders, how they all believe the seraphs are all still here, how they think there’s a direct relation to the Offering and a year’s good harvest, how it’s bad luck to see a seraph’s wings when it’s brought you anything but. If you learned anything from this winter, it was that you found you own way of living, thank the curiosity your home curses you for. Making your own path instead of aimlessly walking one that was already paved. You learned to trust yourself a little more while Yoongi propelled you forward and believed you deserved it all. You learned you did deserve more. You learned what love really felt like when it was new and fresh and exciting and real. And Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi was the wine to your previously empty glass, and this winter with this man, it was heaven.

You decide the realization is enough for you. Have been gifted with so many things and blessings that you’re grateful for the chance to have met someone like him.

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi tastes bitter in his mouth. He felt that if all these years left alone in a manor of silence and rejection was to eventually meet you he would do it a million times, but if all you could reciprocate was this then it just wasn’t meant to be for him. It felt unfair but it also wasn’t his decision. He takes the sourness with him and stands. “I suppose I should head to bed.”

Your sad stare breaks his heart, even more so when you give up and nod. The fire catches your attention as it pops and you leave it at that. He tries to walk away, footsteps haunting, until he stops altogether.

It comes unexpectedly when he wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his knees into your back. A weird sight it is to see his wings unfurl and curl around your rigid body. “Are you satisfied? Is this enough for you?” His voice is soft, like he could take either answer as long as he heard it from you directly.

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

“You’ve already done too much for me, how could I possibly ask you for more?”

He hisses liar into your ear. “Is it your family?”

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

Here you are again, faced with a question that tore you apart in the garden while you ached to be with Yoongi anyway. But there were no distractions here; nothing to interrupt your thoughts. Just you, Yoongi and your truth. He loosens his grip so you can face each other, knees between knees. Instinctively, you reach out for his feathers and indulge yourself with their softness. He pushes his wing into your hand as if to bribe you like a child.

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

A quick glint in his eye, a sort of relief, and then he finishes what he’s started and kisses you. It’s wrong how right it feels, lonely lips moving in tandem to find comfort in one another. Yoongi leans into it, absolutely devastated by your simple touch. The strength of the wine remains on your lips and he can’t help but lick into the flavor, drunkenly entranced by such luxuries. Yoongi’s hands can’t stay, snaking up your back, caressing your face, dragging his knuckles across your jaw and finally grabbing at the scarf. Carefully, he unwraps it from your neck, slow enough to feel it tickle your shoulder blades, before he folds it respectfully and places it elsewhere.

You sigh, more weight taken off your shoulders than there should be.

“Is this okay?” His voice raspy, speaking into the corner of your mouth. You’re stiff, nodding shyly and lacking the fire you brought up until this point.

He rewords, “Do you want me?” Yoongi feels the need to confirm, waiting for this moment for so long that it seems superficial. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll disappear into another one of his many short-lived dreams.

“Of course I want you, Yoongi. I want you more than anything…” But your eyes flicker to the ground, your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Then what’s wrong, lovely? You don’t have to.”

“No! I want to, I just… I’ve never done this before. I want you so bad but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing—”

His laughs are light, his hand on the small of your back as he dips you onto the floor. Holding himself above, he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. I want you and we’ll go slow and if you decide you don’t want to anymore, we won’t.”

The way he makes you feel, how gentle he is, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect way for this to happen. It eases you slightly, letting your arms snake around him in an attempt to let your guard down. He’s patient and wonderful and you mumble about it. “Mhm, okay.”

The night robe he’s gifted you now poses a problem, his slender fingers looping through the bow that keeps it wrapped, “Can I?” You nod again, and he unties you like his own present. The feeling of being bare in front of him becomes apparent when he sucks in and the heat from the fire dances against your skin. Other than that, you look to the window to avoid his face.

“My love, look at me.”

His commands are easy to follow but you cover your breasts to hang onto your last bit of pride, granting eye contact at the least.

Face flushed, you can tell he, too, is trying his best. “You’re incredible. More prepossessing than I could have ever imagined. You shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of me.”

“Well,” you retaliate, “it’s hard not to be when I’m the only one naked.”

He grins at the challenge, sitting up to shed his layers, never noticing his garments having to wrap around in a way to accommodate to his wings. You just thought it was just a more ornamental way of dressing that the seraphs took to. He’s left down to tight underwear that hugs him incredibly, beautiful milky skin exposed and tinted with golden light. “Satisfied?” He lilts.

“You look like an angel,” you trace indents of faint abs. Wide shoulders that taper into a tiny waist, a slim build that you could study forever.

He kisses your words away, pushing you into plush comforters and pillows. A makeshift nest unintentionally built for the two of you. A groan rewards him when he licks your bottom lip teasingly, taking your wrists swiftly to pin them above you. “Pretty thing, I don’t have a halo.”

He starts from the top, kissing each inside of wrist before moving down your arm, slithering onto your shoulder, then into the crook of your neck with gentle suckles. Teeth grazes before puncturing, eliciting a yelp from you that satisfies him. He does this over and over, decorating the canvas of your neck.

“I want to burn you into my memory. I don’t ever want to forget this,” he moans with a wake left down until he meets cleavage. His muscles were relentless, impatient and eager, wanting to worship ever square inch of your body as you rightfully deserved. Your squeaks serve his purpose, his muse as he continues his ministrations down.

Out of nowhere, “I don’t want you to leave me, Y/N.” The profession makes you giddy, happy you’re not the only one who feels so. A hidden insecurity acknowledged and lifted.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

He reaches your stomach and doesn’t hesitate to nibble there too, flinching when your hand flies to his head and buries itself in his hair. He ditches his current plan to grab your hand and plant a kiss to your palm in a second, making you giggle.

He admits, “I like when you touch me.”

“I want to. I feel so useless letting you do this alone.”

“You’ll get a chance if you’d like later. But right now, it’s all about you.” Husking it out. Of course, the idea sounds blissful, but the scene of having you cum by his actions sound better. “Need to cherish what’s in front of me properly.”

So he dips dangerously, laving at the skin above the hem of your panties and hooking his fingers under the sides, “Please,” he breathes.

“You… can do whatever you’d like to me. I want it all.”

He tugs his lip between his teeth, pulling it down. An unexpected wetness strings between your skin and the cloth and you both see it; him amazed, you horribly mortified. You stutter trying to explain yourself, oblivious that you could even feel as aroused as you do now. But his forehead falls onto the jut of your hipbone and you can hear subtle teasing in his tone. “I-I’m just as nervous and that was so incredibly sexy. I don’t think I can go on, shit.”

You laugh stupidly. “Quiet! Not another word! Just hurry up and—”

That terrible habit of looking away becomes your biggest fault, unprepared for Yoongi to filthily bury his tongue into your heat. He flattens his tongue and tantalizingly drags up until he can just barely flick your clit with the tip. Growling in the process.

“You are so sweet. The sweetest I could ever have. You will be the end of me.” Rushed in panted breaths as he does it again. And again. And again. So much that the growing sound of wet against wet echoes in the empty room and renders you paralyzed.

The feeling of it makes you squeamish, like you want to move, buck your hips, pull his hair. Despite the lewdness of having his rough tongue against you and lapping you clean, you could never ask him to stop.

“You just… keep getting… wetter…” He says between turns. “You really wanted me this much?”

“Yoongi—ah! Please, I can’t. It feels weird.”

“You don’t want me to continue, my love?” He asks lightly, blowing cold air onto damp skin and really forcing you to buck.

“No! I just… I have never felt like this. I want you to but I can’t sit still.”

“Oh? Let me help you then. But you have to let me finish.” So you shyly nod and loosen your legs. He uses the prompt to scoop them underneath his arms and attach the back of your knees atop his shoulders, your hips curving up and towards him in a new, tight position.

“Yoongi!”

“No matter how you feel, just let it happen.”

Sultry wails are music to his ears when he brutally sucks on your clit, licking your folds here and there and using all his strength to keep you in place. He spells out his love with his tongue, digs it into you sweetly. His power, though, anything but kind.

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

Unveiling your view, his stare immediately burns into your veins. Looking at you under dangerously slanted lids and that sinful mouth. Holding you in place with strength that could leave prints into your soft legs. With one roll of your clit under his teeth, you feel in ways you never knew how, as if all the pressure that built up in your abdomen suddenly overflowed with a tight burst. Choked sobs and hand gripping his hair enough to make him moan into you, vibrating wonderfully as he works you through it. 

He lets you go, remnants of syrupy arousal trickling down his chin; watches your legs fall open widely and your chest heave for air. Your features bring him joy, loving the way your hair sticks to your face with sweat, eyes closed, and brows knit together in concentration. He loved seeing you painted in warm hues and although he was never an artist, he could replicate this scene exactly how it’s displayed in front of him.

“How do you feel, lovely?”

You respond with a weak smile. “You’re so cruel… Min Yoongi.” You felt flimsy; weightless. A feeling you could come to love too much if you aren’t careful.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” slithering back up to rest his head in your neck, giving you more kisses like you haven’t had enough. You’re happy he’s back, massaging your hands over his torso, up his neck, down his spine. And then you hit it and he tenses.

Thick and raised, an area between his wings that softly juts out. It was fairly large and the texture varied from the rest of his beautiful planes of skin. It was a scar. Wide as a dagger.

“I wish it wasn’t there. I know it’s—”

“Yoongi, baby.” You nudge him to lift his head and he does unwillingly, face turned away. “My Yoongi, it’s nothing. What happened was horrible but it’s over. And I will do everything in my power to make it up to you by giving all of me.”

His lips stop you tenderly, a whisper of affection that pours out love, “You didn’t do anything. In fact, you’ve made me better. I wasn’t able to feel anything for a long time until you. So. Thank you.”

Any remaining embarrassment vanishes. Not when Yoongi’s done his part and you would do anything to take care of him.

Sweat molds your bodies together, heat emanating from a fire that’s ablaze now. There’s a private summer in this room while winter continues outside and it feels special to you. It’s hot here, hot when Yoongi scrapes his teeth against yours, hot where his pelvis lays. You take notice to the hard thing twitching against your thigh, making you flinch.

“Ah, I’m sorry. And we’re in A Mood and all.” Yoongi snickers.

“Don’t be,” you purr, feeling a bit lustful and reaching down to grab it through the cloth.

He hisses, “Fuck! Fuck, please, I’m so sensitive at the moment.”

Ignoring him, you unskillfully maneuver your fingers around him. Just touching to be familiarized with it. He surges forward accidentally, sighing in your ear as he shamelessly humps the space between your groin. You use his distracted state to pull his shorts down, the sudden reality of his skin touching yours bringing about sensual noises from the both of you. A sudden spurt of precum makes it easier for him to drag his heavy cock against your hip.

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

“Stop apologizing. I’ll help you.” You stare down as you flick your wrist, encircling him with fingers shaped in an o and pumping him slow.

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

“Is it… supposed to be this large?” It’s a stupid question to ask, especially when you’re not entirely clueless. You know his size exceeds average proportions.

“Don’t spoil me. Seraphs have always been larger than humans. Height wise, I was the smallest of my brothers though.” Which seemed unimaginable to you, not when he towers over you and could easily devour you in a hug. Cock hanging low and barely able to keep in your single hand. He must be acting coy.

“Now you’re just bragging!”

“I’m just being honest. I’m automatically pleasing to the likes of you,” he chuckles.

The dampness overflows, smears over your skin in incredible amounts and how you wish you could taste out of pure curiosity, but he has other plans for you.

“I don’t think I can hold myself any longer. Please.”

“That’s… fine. Um, should we? Like this?”

“It’s so hot, could you flip on your side?” You roll and he figures he’s made a mistake. Entranced by the way your weight, breasts and soft curves, naturally gravitate down in a seductive pose.

“Like this?” You ask, unaware that he could simply die right now.

He lifts your leg to rest on his shoulder again, easy to stretch. “Perfect, my love. I’m going to go slow. If it’s too much we can try again another time, okay? No rush.”

Challenged by his kindness, you shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m ready.”

Whatever’s left of the arousal between you both is more than enough to let him enter easily. Head of his member no problem to push past that initial tension.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

But it’s his shaft that makes you keen, entire length seeming endless as he fills you and overloads your maximum space. You cry, nerves making you writhe, “It’s not going to fit all the way—hah…wait.”

Yoongi struggles to hold himself back, perspiration dripping down his nose, “Are you okay? Does it hurt? It doesn’t need to, I’m pretty close to being all the way in anyway.”

“I’m fine,” you pant, head lolled to the side as he stretches you out in an odd, numbing way. “You can… you can move.”

His hips test it, pulling out so little to only be sucked back in with a leveled grunt. “Baby, you’re barely allowing me to.”

“It feels so tight,” you sigh, worried that if you move it’ll really begin to hurt.

“Ah, really? Let’s do this then.” He quick to please, wanting your pleasure before his own and getting you to flip, propped onto your elbows and filled from behind. Smooth chest meets your arched back, him hiding a kiss below your ear while he’s there. A moan aches in your throat as his dick unintentionally digs deeper inside, easier to move and to the hilt.

“Is this better, Y/N?”

“Hah… Yes. Yes, so much better. So good. Please move.”

His hips roll, just enough to grind into you which feels nothing but euphoric in itself. You mimic each other’s lusty whimpers with every movement. Caving into each other’s kisses and licks and pants that you feel synchronized.

Yoongi grows impatient with himself, exaggerating how he pulls out and slams himself back inside. The mere force that he fucks into you sends you forward, opting to lay on your chest and bite the blankets beneath you to keep from screaming. “You feel so good. So, so good. I’m sorry it hasn’t been long, but I feel like…”

His wings fall at his sides and cover you in shadow. It’s weird to see them like this, in a way you could imagine the perspective of having them yourself. But it covers you in unnecessary warmth and makes you grunt.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a quick breath, “Let me on top. I’ll finish.”

The way his member slides out; the way it leaves you tensing over nothing is a sad, needy feeling. You don’t slow at the chance to lay him down and take control, straddling him and watching his face contort in loving awe.

Sitting on him is an entirely different feeling and Yoongi keeps himself from cumming inside you right away, a choke in his throat. “Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk. Y/N, I won’t last like this for long please—”

“I’ll make it quick.” You lean over him, palms to the ground as you start moving, grinding and using him to your advantage. The nerves start again and you shake with pleasure.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

Slender fingers dig into your velvety hips as he forces himself into you with harsh, quick jabs. “Baby, I have to cum.” He smooths his knuckles over your cheek, pulling you down into a tongue heavy-kiss in an impossibly fiery caress.

The ramming he enforces take incoherent sobs from your lips. You feel a ghost of a smile, sure Yoongi is enjoying your shameless display of indulgence; coming undone before his very eyes.

You arch into him, clenching tighter and falling onto his chest. With impeccable timing he pulls out, strings of hot white flooding between your stomachs.

“A lot,” you complain.

“Mmm. Because I’ve been waiting so long to have you.”

Without the pressure of moving, you lay on him despite the humidity. Petting the underside of his wings as they drape so gracefully against the blankets and the rug.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

“To see my family. To come home and let them know I’m okay.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s afraid that you won’t come back, though.

“And… to turn down Taehyung’s proposal in person.”

Yoongi looks down and can’t see your face but he’s imagined it’s worried. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

He waits. You speak again, “Do you really want to be with me? For me to stay?”

“More than anything.”

He feels the tug of your cheeks on his chest; a wide smile.

“Then I’ll need to get my stuff.” And that makes him want to cry. After traumatic betrayal and years of loathing his punishment of isolation, he’s finally being let out of his cage. Free to be with someone that cares for him as much as he cares for you.

Your last thoughts remain on the fire and how it’s the only other entity to to swallow your talks, plans and confessions. Of his feathers like his arms as they fold in comfortably next to you, feeling like they’re meant to be there. Like you really were fated to be skin-to-skin with this man in his manor. Entwined by trust and love and an unprecedented future that would be everything as long as he’s in it. An irony of a useless girl and flightless wings.

Yoongi watches you fall under, wiping his thumb over your lips, trailing it down your chin and covering your naked body with his wing. Slumber finds him soon after, mind stuck on his self-epiphany that he had to lose his wings to gain you, and how incredibly lucky he is to have it that way.

a/n: ahAhaA, i’m sorry. please feel free to let me know what you think.

❋ masterlist ❋

[rametarin]

And further thoughts about the yaoi paddles.

If you’re under 20, and just now learning that fandom seniors in their late 20s, 30s, 40s, even low 50s, used to run around slapping eachother on the ass with yaoi paddles in anime and comic conventions after anime became a household media staple, you probably have.. questions.

You’re probably thinking, “Wow!! It was really lawless and anarchistic back then, wasn’t it! They never heard about personal space or sexual harassment laws! SOCIETY must have been SO different, back then!”

NO. I cannot stress enough, the Yaoi Paddle phenomenon was borne PURELY because the demographic MOST LIKELY to protest and be wet blankets about everything fun and sexual and admittedly VERY SKETCHY sometimes in fiction, and ALWAYS bad in reality.. turned off and said virtually nothing. Wokesters that’d protest about the environment and sexual assault against women would take off their Problem Glasses by night and act like paddling was harmless, contextually acceptable behavior.

Yaoi Paddle shit appeared because something absolutely magical happened in scifi and fantasy fandoms. It survived purely because boys didn’t complain, or their complaints were not taken seriously. I promise you, I assure you, if you grew up in the late 80s, your night time TV was INUNDATED with heavy handed messages about how sexual harassment (always male-on-woman flavored) was wrong, even proxy or indirect violence to women (tossing rubber gloves in their lap) was wrong, and to never, ever, ever do that thing or they’d rub your nose in it and consider you mentally diseased until the day you died.

Fandom was always niche, with sci-fi and fantasy stuff being off in its own little corner. Conventions, before the internet was king, was one of few places where more rural, disparate suburban and city-definition isolated geeks, nerds and dreamers could get together and just cut loose. Comic books, novels, video games. All that GOOD shit. But if you knew a girl in the 80s and 90s, you knew a girl that knew a girl that was getting them to be less tolerant and “more conscious and aware” (80s and 90s parlance for Woke) and when that happened, a new persona was created. A new bunch of dialogue options, created.

Suddenly they didn’t say stuff like, “Ew. Why is this character dressed like a SLUT? Typical male writers. Like we’d ever draw ourselves in this or put ourselves in this.” Because that’d be a personal, subjective opinion. Instead, the option to say, “It’s endemic in our western culture that male chauvinist authors and writers in a patriarchal system exploit femininity in media and reproduce misogynistic culture.”

And so assured this was true by mob mentality AND the idea that learned, educated, acredited and tenured academics had this opinion, they were scientists, and so they were right, permeated. Suddenly girl-fans had outlets to have justified apprehension for everything they saw and didn’t like or, if they actually liked it, STILL interpreted it through their lenses to be on, “the right side of history.”

It made fandom miserable and a sausage fest for a while, if only out of fear of driving away female friends. You couldn’t share that shit unless you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your female peers and friends wouldn’t disregard you like a “typical misogynistic western male” for enjoying that stuff.

Sentiments and peer pressure thoughts emerged. Like, “The comic industry is hostile and cruel to women that try and enter it, and they exploit the image of women for cheap dollars.” So they simply weren’t interested in comics- mostly- unless the comics were written by women and sold with that virtue in mind. In which case, you had boys glowingly mentioning just how much they liked this authentically written adventure by this female comic author. Isn’t that just so special? Not like those horrid anti-woman cigar smoking old man stories, right?

There was always something to nag and get vitriolic about with the media. That’s part of why the Whedon brand of feminist writing got so popular in the 90s. it was low hanging fruit of peppy “sassy” girl characters doing girly things. They weren’t like “other” girls written in comics and cartoons. They were actually girly. Not idealized infantalized children, like those horrible white men write, you know.

Well. Things were looking really bleak for the forseeable future. Lots of boys just felt like comics and cartoons were lost to girls that weren’t specifically into them, and that meant more sausage fest conventions or hobbies, and signing off hope on those things being respected and accepted on the merits of what they are and were. The girls had embraced serials-filed-off radfem rhetoric and lenses, sometimes without even knowing the origins of where those truisms like the Male Gaze even came from, just assuming it was true and indisputable. And it complimented their insecurities, so they’d embrace that shit until they couldn’t anymore.

And then.. something absolutely miraculous and amazing happened that blindsided this whole vitriolic culture.

Anime.

And amazingly, every complaint that a lot of nerdy girls had about the very much sanitized, policed and made PG writing and characterization of characters in western comics and cartoons, just... fucking up and vanished. Seemingly within a fucking YEAR, the entire social culture of Problem Finders, finding everything wrong about these stories, the characters, the writer and the company that produced them being misogynistic male chauvinism, dried up. Those voices quieted, or were shut out of the groups.

Media from Japan was some of the most infantilizing, sexist, tittelating shit compared to mainstream American comics and cartoons and video games, and girls fluttered to it like flies to shit. We had Buffy basically subverting boogymen that a bunch of girls had been taught were still relevant after the 1950s by fighting crime in melee combat with men, and winning, while wearing jogging pants and cracking sassy, like Lola Bunny being a “tough girl.”

Japan had doe eyed, waif bodied ballet dancers that basically farted iridescent glitter, hearts and all the symbols and shapes of the Lucky Charms, riding unicorns and fighting evil in cute outfits. Being childish and not at all mature or professional to show how womanly and competent they were, basically being overgrown 11 year old girls fresh off the playground swing set.

And the fangirls loved it. Those nagging voices that would speak up and remind them about misogynistic, male chauvinistic “societies” and culture? Just.. they fucking VANISHED from the mind for AN ENTIRE GENERATION. I’m not exaggerating. Tolerance and fun and innocence was back again. The problem-glasses felt too ostracized and alienated, or didn’t even want to wear them anymore for personal reasons, and the Radfem Baby Wokes just seemed to grow out of that collective hysteria and pretend it never happened and never existed.

That’s why the very EXISTENCE of Yaoi Paddles at conventions was just so fucking bizarre to those of us that lived up to that point. After, “Stay in your own personal space, boy. DON’T even TOUCH a GIRL unless she VERBALLY AND PUBLICLY CONSENTS or it’s proof you’re just living up to this misogynistic, objectifying society’s evil history!” was drilled into us, day on the playground by day on the playground, by women with axes to grind and good-boy sycophants performing sharing those sentiments for brownie points, it was so fucking surreal to IMAGINE girls just running around sexually assaulting and physically assaulting random strangers because they thought they looked like cute, gay men.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know any better beforehand, it’s that they COMPLETELY put those sentiments away and up and decided, as girls, it was okay to violate male autonomy because they weren’t women, and “it’s okay to paddle a yaoi boy ^.^!” With NO self-awareness whatsoever.

The very fact it existed is testament to how attention starved boys were for girls approving gaze and playful interaction, that they’d tolerate some pocky fingered little cow stranger smacking them on the ass with a plank of wood because it was a socially acceptable way to just interact with girls in their lonely assed fandom and interest. It was an acceptable way to meet girls and positively interact. That’s the degrading bullshit boys said virtually nothing about at the hayday of yaoi paddles, purely to be welcoming to girls in anime and hentai approving spaces.

WE GREW UP hearing and watching horror stories and boogymen stories about true crime and sitcoms and crime shows about evil evil men violating the personal space of women for lewd and lecherous reasons. We had it drilled into our heads that the tolerance for boys and men doing that was negatives, and the general sentiment was men caught doing that (to women, or children of any sex) were effectively free game for any violence you personally felt like unloading on them, confident that in such outraged rape and sexual assault hating times, juries would excuse that passion as a defense.

So if you look back on the era of Yaoi Paddles and think. “WOW. That must be like driving cars before they invented seat belts and cough medicine before they invented the drug safety and scheduling legal system!”.. NO.

It was not like the 50s-70s, where many of the rules hadn’t been written yet so it was anarchy and chaos. Yaoi Paddles existed almost PURELY because girls HAD no rules if they didn’t want to respect them. The Yaoi Paddle phenomenon flew in direct opposition to how interactions were supposed to go, and ABSOLUTELY NO ONE would tolerate the reverse; no cis straight man could walk around randomly smacking women on the ass with a plank of even foam in pantomime, or ‘floating hand’ pretending to be a perverted character. The double standard was GLARING. The Double Standard was a fucking bugbear that had grown from a tiny screaming goblin and was now hanging upside down from the ceiling, roaring.

But because it was GIRLS inflicting it on BOYS, absolutely no party cared enough to raise a stink about it. The Radfems kept their mouths shut, because boys were the recipients. The Radfem Sympathizers really wanted to spank boys, so suddenly they couldn’t find their problem glasses and instead put on their neko ears. The boys were either stoic and amused by it or really wanted to be seen as cool and not buzzkills, so they tolerated to reveled in it.

Many times when you hear about things that happened either when you were a child just too young to really personally experience a thing, or before you were born, we’re quick to assume it’s a medieval place and the people were so uncultured as to have never pondered the social problems of spanking one another on the ass unprovoked. Violation of personal space, personal sovereignty- all that. That was NOT okay at the time. It happened because fujoshi decided it was okay and nobody argued with them to not do hat, or they were told to stop and did it anyway.

And as I’ve laid it out, that is the most bizarre and surreal element to the whole thing. They DID know better, but felt it didn’t apply to THEM because they were girls, and a girl slapping a boy on the ass “as a joke” didn’t mean anything- because it wasn’t happening TO them, FROM a man.

And irony of ironies, it was NEVER okay, EVER, throughout that entire era, for the reverse to be a thing. It was very specifically and exclusively not. As a man if you ran around slapping cute looking girls with the Yuri Paddle, you goin’ to either juvy hall, or prison, boi. Both sexes knew it. And yet, yaoi paddles STILL became a thing.

[charliejrogers]

I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Or, What Many Will Think About Midway Through This Movie)

You may be expecting a long review for this movie. I mean, let’s be honest, I dissected the shit out of Birds of Prey, to the point that it was almost inappropriate for the kind of movie it was. But this movie? The arthouse classic-to-be from the much-revered Charlie Kaufman (both writer and director here), I’m Thinking of Ending Things? A movie filled to the brim with symbolism and which refuses to commut itself to any one point of view or plane or reality? This guy’s gonna write about it for fucking eternity.

Well, no. It won’t be the case. Why? Because I don’t think I really got it. Sure, I could try to wax poetic about my thoughts on aging, time, whether there’s meaning in relationships, meaning to our lives (all themes the film raises and which serve as its central core) But it would just kinda sound bullshit coming from me.

So, yeah, this isn’t much of a plot movie. It starts with a young woman (Jessie Buckley) waiting in the street of a snowy quiet country town’s downtown for her boyfriend, Jake, (Jesse Plemons) of one month (or longer?) so that the two can join Jake’s parents for dinner. Despite taking this proverbial big step in her relationship, she’s wondering (evoking the film’s title) whether she should end things. Or is that really what the title is about. Like everything in this movie, every piece of dialogue every character, every suggestion of a chronology, things are laden with a second meaning. Part of your enjoyment from the film will derive from whether or not you enjoy being strung along for 135 minutes without ever really understanding what’s going on, what’s really being said, who these characters really are, or when/where the hell are we in the world?

Despite those tantalizing and exciting questions, I’m here to warn you now, nothing big or exciting happens in this film, at least by conventional movie standards. We watch the couple drive to the Jake’s parents’ house and that takes about 25 minutes of film time. We’re in the house with his parents for probably about 45 minutes. Then the drive home takes another 20-25 minutes. The scenes about driving are just that: two people in a car talking to one another without much event. It’s like the car ride scenes from your favorite buddy/road trip movie but with all the fun adventures taken out. Instead what we get are long, confusing conversations more akin to Matthew McConaughey’s time spent in a car on True Detective.

But one thing becomes exceedingly clear when we finally get to Jake’s parents’ house: the film’s banal settings (a country road, a farmhouse, a rural high school) belie a truth about the film. It is not set in our reality. Jake and the woman’s conversation on the car ride is full of reflections on the nature of time, aging, depression, and life. Jake is a slightly insufferable intellectual. He’s the kind of guy who says he doesn’t know a whole lot about musical theater and then proceed to list 15-20 musicals of various fame and obscurity. The whole scene feels as quirky and just-shy of overwritten, i.e. par for the course of a pretentious art house film such as this. But the mannerisms of Jake’s parents are more than can be attributed to a quirky film. His mother is a jealous, possessive neurotic played by Toni Collette in a way only she could and a twitchy, and his father is a lecherous rival obsessed with his girlfriend played by David Thewlis (a favorite actor of mine). And throughout the meal, the confident, know-it-all we knew from the drive regresses into the behavior of a weak, embarrassed child. These are caricatures taken word from word from a textbook on Freudian psychology more than they are believable humans. The film admits and confirms the Freudian aping rather explicitly.

But just when you think you understand what the film’s up to, it switches course. After dinner, the woman starts to explore their house and starts a journey through time (but, again, with none of the excitement that sentence would normally imply.) It’s my second favorite sequence in the film (the first being an interpretive dance that occurs towards the film’s end… yes, it’s THAT kind of film). It’s filmed and framed in the trappings of a horror movie, but there’s no jump scares or horrible truth to be found. It’s how I imagine someone would adapt the tone of the superb video game Gone Home (yes, I’m one of THOSE people). But yeah, there’s no horrible truth… except if you consider the inevitability of human decay and disease to be a terrible truth. Every room the woman stumbles upon finds Jake’s parents appear to be a different age and health than when she first got to the house, ranging from a mother decked out in 50s/60s apparel to old, feeble gentleman. From there the movie continues to refuse to stay in one place and becomes odder and odder. It’s then I realized to think of this movie of a totally abstract piece of art, like the dream sequences of The Sopranos or Buffy.

So what do I think is going on? Obviously spoilers for here on out. Despite getting the majority of the screen time, this is NOT a movie about the young woman. At the very beginning of the film we are introduced, briefly, to an older, portly gentleman in his late 70s, looking out a window. The film cuts back to that exact same room and window 30 seconds later, but in the old man’s place is Jesse Plemons’ Jake. From that I take it to mean the two are the same person, with Plemons representing the older Jake younger self (or imagined younger self). Alongside the main plot, we occasionally get images and short scenes of the older Jake, a janitor at a rural high school who lives alone. The intellect (or perhaps false sense of intellect) of his younger self is clearly not meeting its potential. He is mocked by students for his age and fragility. What I think we’re watching is this older Jake trying to make sense of what it means to be old and who is currently on the verge of suicide unable to see its meaning. Although I compared the film to a dream sequence, I don’t think it’s fair to reduce the whole thing to Jake’s dream. More I feel like we are seeing a manifestation of Jake’s subconscious thoughts on screen play out.

Who is the young woman then? I’m not sure. I doubt she represents any actual woman – she’s given a variety of names. She almost plays the part of our (and his) guide into Jake’s subconscious like Virgil to Dante, but she’s more than a void. I think she represents what Jake would want in a woman in his life, a confident woman who can see through Jake’s faults (but notably sees them and sees them clearly). She’s not overtly sexual like the women at the ice cream who clearly make Jake uncomfortable. But yet, it’s telling that even in his deepest, most private thoughts that I think we’re seeing, he cannot imagine that even his ideal woman would want to be with him.

We get lots of reasons for why Jake thinks things are like this. Clearly he holds resentment for his parents, even if he feels like it’s cliché to do so. But time is his true nemesis. For me the most telling scenes for my understanding of the movie comes at the end with the interpretive dance, which shows Jake and the young woman (or, at least, stand-ins for those two) engage in a beautiful display of courtship, love, and marriage, only for the young Jake stand-in to be violently by a representation of the older janitor Jake. Clearly Jake thinks of his current self as something wholly distinct from his younger self, and that the creature he is now, a creature created by time, has destroyed who he once was. Like many of us (or as many of us think), he peaked in high school, the last place where people gave him awards for being who he is. This detail adds a sadness to the fact that he works as a janitor at one now. And it is notable that the film’s journey ends there, at a high school, where inexplicably he is being awarded a lifetime achievement award. Achievement in what? It’s unclear. What is clear that the person receiving the award is not the janitor Jake, but the younger Jake (Jesse Plemons) with old-age make-up on. With his dying breath he is able to see the self he loves, his younger self, grow up and live the life he wanted. There’s no sense at all of his present circumstances or person. Then we cut to a shot of janitor Jake’s truck buried in snow, presumably (on my interpretation) with janitor Jake frozen inside, dead.

So ultimately whether or not you like this movie depends on your tolerance for head-up-its-butt dialogue about the grand questions of life combined with its purposefully obtuse presentation. As one of the biggest douchebags I know, I liked it, but didn’t fall head over heels for it. The only other associated Kaufmann production I’ve seen is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but from what I understand, this movie is Kaufmann at its Kaufmann-iest. I have a great respect for the planning and thought behind every second of the film and I can honestly say I was never not entertained. I loved the film’s mood and atmosphere and that I was always on my toes. It’s a movie that truly has gotten better as I’ve continued to think about it over the last three days. But still, I don’t think I always understood what was going on and it’s a little too obtuse/abstract for it to be an all-time classic. I respect that for some people this may be their favorite movie of all time, and for others it may be a crock of shit. I’m somewhere in the middle, and cautiously recommend this film to those of you who are open to some abstract art in film. If you are, definitely try it out, you won’t forget it. If you are not open to it, skip it; you will have no qualms about endings things early.

***1/4 (Three and one-fourth stars out of four)

[ba-mi-soro-orisha]

What books are on your nightstand?

“All the Stars and Teeth,” by Adalyn Grace; “Ninth House,” by Leigh Bardugo; “The Last Arrow,” by Erwin Raphael McManus. I always have an itch for great fantasy, which Grace and Bardugo provide. And I’m always interested in self-development and books that feed my soul like “The Last Arrow.”

What’s the last great book you read?

“Daring Greatly,” by Brené Brown! I was really moved by her Netflix special, and listening to her audiobook came at the perfect time in my life. She has a way of perfectly describing some of the most intimate human emotions and experiences, and she provides concrete, actionable solutions. She gave me a new level of self-awareness that’s helped me navigate my life in a meaningful way, so I’m a big fan.

Are there any classic novels that you only recently read for the first time?

Recently, no. The vast majority of American classics were ruined for me because schools made me read them too young. If I remember correctly, I think I had to read “Self-Reliance,” by Ralph Waldo Emerson, in seventh grade. I remember reading “Death of a Salesman” in high school and hating it, but when I read it in college I loved it. I was blown away by what Arthur Miller had created. Because of that, I’m saving my reread of the classics for a time when life isn’t too crazy and I can focus. I want to make sure if I don’t like what society has deemed a classic story, it’s because I don’t like the actual story, and not because I didn’t understand it when I was 12.

Describe your ideal reading experience (when, where, what, how).

My ideal reading experience is on the beach, under an umbrella, with my Kindle, and with a tasty drink and snack by my side.

What’s your favorite book no one else has heard of?

I don’t think I have one? I’m a pretty basic person. I’m not even cool enough to like niche anime. Everything I gravitate to is pretty well known because they are such amazing stories.

If I had to pick one, I’d say most of my younger readers probably aren’t familiar with “The Souls of Black Folk,” by W. E. B. DuBois, and most of my older readers probably aren’t familiar with “Six of Crows,” by Leigh Bardugo.

What book should everybody read before the age of 21?

“The Poet X,” by Elizabeth Acevedo. It’s a stunning story told in verse about a young Dominican poet learning to use her voice and take up space. I think as we grow up and start to discover who we are, we also have to discover what we want to say. Then we have to get comfortable saying it. I think this is the kind of story that makes you feel strong when you’re reading it, and then you can lean on that strength when you need to use your voice and take up space in your real life.

Which writers — novelists, playwrights, critics, journalists, poets — working today do you admire most?

For novelists, I’m a forever-fan of Sabaa Tahir. Her debut fantasy — “An Ember in the Ashes” — was the epic tale that inspired me to write “Children of Blood and Bone.” It moved me in ways a story hadn’t moved me before and gave me a chance to imagine a fantasy world with characters I’d never gotten to see before.

For journalists, Shaun King. The work Shaun does for the black community is incredible. I respect his strength, tenacity and passion, and I admire him deeply for the commitment to getting our stories out.

For critics, I think YouTubers like Cosmonaut Variety Hour and Alex Meyers? I get a lot of entertainment from their television and movie reviews, and also get refreshers on good storytelling.

What writers are especially good on adolescent life?

Angie Thomas, Nic Stone and Jason Reynolds!

How do you distinguish Y.A. books from adult fiction?

Honestly, the main difference to me is how quickly I’m captured and transported into the story. I find the best young adult novels have all the best parts of adult fiction — the extensive world-building, the complex characters, the beautiful prose — layered over a fast-paced, exciting plot. Most of the adult fiction I read takes its time building to the climax.

Which young adult books would you recommend to people who don’t usually read Y.A.?

I always recommend “An Ember in the Ashes” and “Six of Crows” after one of my readers has finished “Children of Blood and Bone.” I find those three fantasies crossover really well and help hook people into reading other young adult books.

What’s the most interesting thing you learned from a book recently?

That you’re not supposed to fight your anxiety, you’re supposed to fight the things that are causing your anxiety by setting better boundaries for yourself and for others. That’s one of the golden nuggets in “Daring Greatly.”

Which genres do you especially enjoy reading? And which do you avoid?

I love a good romance! I’m always game for young adult fantasy and sci-fi. I want to read more adult books, contemporary books and poetry. And sadly, I avoid nonfiction. When I read, I like to go somewhere else in my mind with stories that touch our real world without taking place in it.

What makes for a good fantasy novel?

I think the most magical fantasies will always be the ones with a world you want to live in forever. For example, I think we loved Harry Potter, but we were in love with Hogwarts. We all wanted to go to class with him. We all wanted our own wands. I think great worlds are important because they allow readers to play in that world with their imagination long after the book is done, but a great world isn’t complete without a great protagonist.

What moves you most in a work of literature?

Acts of love. Be it familial, friendly or romantic. A beautifully described, tender act of love destroys me.

How do you organize your books?

ORIGINAL STORIES: I have a lot of the stories I wrote when I was young on my Kindle — they are hilarious and incredible and always funny to read.

BOOKS ON WRITING: I always want to be a better writer/storyteller than I am now. I love books and YouTube videos that break down the art of story.

FICTION: Most of my library is Y.A., so this is where my “I’m an adult” fiction goes.

SCI-FI: Though I’m a child of fantasy, my interest in the stars and spaceships is growing.

FANTASY: Includes all the great franchises of the past and all the exciting, diverse stories that are being published today.

Who is your favorite fictional hero or heroine? Your favorite antihero or villain?

Antiheroes: Zuko, from “Avatar: The Last Airbender”; Logan, from “X-Men”; Kaz Brekker, from “Six of Crows.” Villains: Light Yagami, from “Death Note,” and Magneto, from “X-Men.” I guess my Slytherin is showing, because I love my antiheroes and my villains more than my heroes.

What kind of reader were you as a child? Which childhood books and authors stick with you most?

I was a voracious reader when I was young. I lived for the summer reading challenges where I could read 50 books and get like three Airheads at the end of August. The authors and books that worked themselves into my heart were Mary Pope Osborne and her Magic Tree House series, J. K. Rowling and Harry Potter, Masashi Kishimoto and “Naruto.” I consider myself a creative child of fantasy and anime.

How have your reading tastes changed over time?

My Kindle is loaded up with several of the stories I wrote as a girl and as a teenager. It’s wild reading them now because I vaguely remember the nights and weekends I stayed up writing these tales, and I see the plots and character types that I’ve loved reading about and imagining since I was young.

I’ve always loved sweeping romances and magical fantasies. I’ve loved headstrong, determined female protagonists and epic battles. I still like to read the same things. I think the difference now is that I get to read all the things I like with characters who look like me. My childhood stories didn’t give me that. Even in the stories I wrote myself, I was only writing white characters and biracial characters. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that erasure was painful and damaging to my sense of self. So getting to create and read stories that fight that erasure and build on my sense of self is the only significant change in my reading tastes.

You’re organizing a literary dinner party. Which three writers, dead or alive, do you invite?

Oprah Winfrey, Octavia E. Butler and Toni Morrison. I would be extremely uncomfortable in the midst of all that greatness, and I probably wouldn’t speak. But while stuffing my face with little lobster rolls, I would get to learn from and be inspired by those three incredible women.

Whom would you want to write your life story?

Honestly, me, because I’m a perfectionist. But I don’t think I’m the best person to write my story because while I have a unique take on my story, I also lack a lot of necessary perspectives that would be needed to write an accurate life story. I’m going to cheat this one and say I would like Shonda Rhimes to do a highly dramatized mini-series of my life story.

What do you plan to read next?

“Blood Heir,” by Amélie Wen Zhao. I’ve heard really great things. I’m excited to check it out!

[littlemisssquiggles]

Will Neo and Cinder be Kidnapping Oscar or ..... someone else

Salutations Luna! Hmm…my money is on Ruby being the key target for our villainousFire and Ice-cream Duo. 

It was teasedlast season that Cinder prompted Neo to help her get to Atlas and find Ruby.And once that was done, the rest would be up to Neo to enact her revenge on thelittle red rose as Neo saw fit.

So if anyone is in danger of gettingabducted or lured into any kind of trap by Neo and Cinder, it’s definitelyRuby.

Then again, I also have this smalltheory of what if…Neo and Cinder kidnap Oscar and use him to lure our Ruby into a trap?  

An alternative to this would be thereverse where, while down in Mantle, Ruby is lured far away from her friends intoan ambush by Neo who was disguised as either one of Ruby’s comrades and/orteammates (perhaps Weiss or even Penny) or even a Mantle citizen in dire need of help.

Like imagineif…while down in Mantle, Ruby runs into a young woman who comes to herbegging for her help, informing Ruby that her little sisteris trapped somewhere in far Mantle. So without hesitation, Ruby follows the woman far, farout into Mantle. Eventually the woman stops and Ruby asks her about her trappedsister. The woman points to an abandoned building of some kind. Ruby goes intothe building but as soon as she enters, the woman reveals herself as Neo andblindsides Ruby in an attack.

Since CH9 mentioned that Oscar returnedto Atlas Academy with Ironwood, let’s say… that while up in Atlas Academy, Oscar is there with Ironwoodinside of his head office monitoring the Search and Rescue down in Mantle fromafar; keeping as much tabs on everyone’s whereabouts and progress in theirrespective evacuations since I’m assuming it’ll be ‘divideand conquer’ with the JNR_QRWBY and the Ace Opssplitting up all around Mantle to cover more ground and thus save more innocentlives.

Let’s say… Ironwood was communicating with his Ace Ops and Military forceswhile simultaneously working against Watts to stop him from infiltrating Atlas’mainframe or whatnot with his hacking. And while the General was busy withthat, Oscar monitored his teammates’ progress while keeping in close contactwith them on his Scroll. This was inclusive of Ruby until at some point; Oscar suddenly losescontact with Ruby. Her Scroll signal goes dead silent.

This causes Oscar to panic over whathappened to Ruby. He attempts to alert the others of Ruby’s disappearance but…imagine if…thisis thwarted by Watts’ successfully hacking into Atlas’ mainframe and scramblingthe system in such a way that results in Ironwood losing all communication with his troops in the field. Samefor Oscar. Perhaps Watts hacking doesn’t just mess with communications up inAtlas but down in Mantle as well.

Imagine if…while down in Mantle,everyone loses contact with each other since Watts did something to mess witheveryone’s Scroll signal. With the loss of communication with their allies down in Mantleand with no way of Oscar to alert the others of Ruby’s disappearance, Oscar hasno choice but to go down to Mantle to find Ruby on his own. 

Let’s say…Oscarhad managed to make a record of Ruby’s last known whereabouts before she went offline and that’s where he headed. Maybe it’s Ironwood flying an airship who drops him off.

So while Ironwood goes on a hunt for Watts in agame of cat and mouse and the others handled the evacuation and appearance of TyrianCallows, Oscar dropped down in Mantle to find Ruby.

As for Ruby herself, as I said my headcanon is that Neo and Cinder lured Ruby into an ambush down in Mantlefar, far away from the help of her friends. In their minds, they had Rubytrapped like a rat in maze with no help from her littlepals this time. So basically no one wasgoing to come to Ruby’s rescue …or so the Fireand Ice-cream Duo presumed. 

Do you know what would actually be a pretty wicked thing for theCRWBY to do? 

Imagine if…the Rubyversus Neo and Cinder Fight pays tributeto Monty Oum’s DeadFantasy fan animation?

I’m not sure if you’ve seen DeadFantasy but it’s an old fan animation series that Monty had made that pinnedcharacters from the Dead orAlive videogames against characters from the Final Fantasy and KingdomHearts series. In the first Dead Fantasyvideo, it started off with Yuna from Final Fantasy X running through whatlooked like a maze while being pursued by Ayane and Katsumi from Dead or Alive.

The opening fight between these threegirls was pretty badass and just seeing Yuna hold her own while being doubleteamed by two powerful warrior women trying to take her down is pretty cool.Personally I think it would be very badass on Ruby’s part to see her fare onher own against Neo and Cinder working together at first to take her down.Especially if any kind of backup is to come to Ruby’s aid in the end. MeaningOscar.

While the sudden reappearance of Neoand Cinder did bug me since the show didn’t really provide much buildup during this season for them, if we do get another epic rematch for V7 that parallels V3, then this squiggle meister is definitely hoping it’sthe Rosebuds versus Fire andIce-cream.

We know Neo has her personal beef withRuby for holding her responsible for Torchwick’s death. However Oscar has hisown connection with Cinder Fall since she’s the one who killed Ozpin.

And since we never got to really seehow that fight went down outside of the small teaser from V3, it’d be excitingif Cinder and Oscar re-enacted her final dual with Ozpin. 

Perhaps we could even get a moment where Cinder unfortunately overpowers Oscar and has him pinned down;menacingly whispering in his ear “Do youwant to know how I killed your predecessor?”before…I dunno, pulling the same move she did with Vernal where she piercesOscars’ stomach with her Grimm arm?

The CRWBY Writers did tease “exciting things for Oscar for V7″. I can’t picture Oscar just sitting out of the finale again. They’ve been teasing him fighting a lot for this season. It’s time for Oscar to kick some ass. Especially if it’s in a rematch against a powerful enemy that killed his predecessor. 

Pinning Oscar against Cinder Fall for the V7 finale would be epic! 

Not to mention that I’m still banking on my theory that Oscar will unlock his semblance to protectRuby. I’m still hoping for that. 

I’m hopingthat CH9 won’t be the only episode this season that teased Rosegarden. Butjust in case we don’t get that, I hope we at least get to see Oscar in action. I hope we get to see Oscar do his ownlanding strategy, coming down to Mantle to aid his true rose in the eventthat Neo and Cinder go for her.

That’s my hunch.

~LittleMissSquiggles(2020)

[vexus-u]

Some things about the world that I think it is important to remember in fandom right now:

People who create art are not responsible if bad people are somehow influenced to replicate immoral acts they portray. For the same reason that arguing against video games depicting violence in case it causes violence is bunk, so is arguing against fiction writers portraying problematic relationships bunk. People have their own responsibility to be good people, and it’s their responsibility to know the difference between write and wrong, not random people whose media they consume.

Fiction can, of course, be critiqued on its tendency to romanticize problematic elements. However, this is not a critique that is applicable across the board. Romanticisation implies a context that does not contain pointers to a potential portrayal of problematic dynamics, and presents them to a general audience in a context where it would be expected that you might encounter content that would be considered to be problematic in the real world. Tagged fanfiction published in niche online communities, where one has to actively search for a particular type of content to find it, is not such a context. The framing of most fanfiction is upfront about the content that it contains and implicitly assumes that readers should understand what that means and have sensible moral opinions about it. Ensuring this beyond correctly including tags and warnings is not the responsibility of creators.

Fictional characters are not real. This means more than “they do not exist as beings on the physical plane”, it means that fictional characters are groups of concepts and traits that are not inextricably tied to one another. No “version” of a fictional character is in any way more real or valid than any other, including the interpretation of the original author. They’re all fake. With respect to shipping discourse, it is in no way more problematic to re-imagine a young character as older, and subsequently ship them with an older character, as it would be if the author wrote about them getting older and subsequently forming a relationship. Neither interpretation is real. Neither versions have any baggage necessarily attached to them. These are just thoughts and ideas, and you shouldn’t let your attachment to a particular narrative line make you treat them as otherwise.

It’s okay not to like things. It’s okay to hate them, and be disgusted by them. It’s okay to not look at them and wish that never existed. That’s fine. That does not mean that a thing is intrinsically bad for existing. That does not mean that the creator deserves to be harassed. Such attitudes are reactionary and reductive, not to mention harmful and, at worst, abusive.

You cannot read minds. Do not presume that you know why a person might be attached or interested in a piece of fiction, or a fictional element. You do not know, and you are not entitled to that information.

Violent retribution is not okay even when it is directed against people you don’t like. All people are people, even when you hate them. You can’t opt out of your objections to retributive violence and coordinated abuses when you personally dislike the people that it is aimed at. These are universal principles.

Think about why the people you feel comfortable with attacking for creating media you dislike are often overwhelmingly women, queer people, and other minority groups. Is there perhaps an institutional reason why you feel more comfortable directing abusive attacks at these people? Perhaps it feels like they are less likely to have recourse? Perhaps people who face abuses from society are more likely to find value and catharsis in works that you find unpleasant. Food for thought.

You know what this is about. Please calm down. Stop, and think about how nuance is good and black and white morality is bad. Think about how analysis of whether a work has a positive or negative influence goes deeper than “is this thing that it depicts bad”. Think about why conservative hand-wringing over things like depictions of violence in media has always been deeply short-sighted and aggressive, and why that sort of moral grandstanding has always done little except to make vulnerable people more acceptable targets. Think about why forming your community identity around hating outside groups of people who commit thought crimes, who find value in the wrong things, is always going to hurt people more than it helps them. Think about the comparative upside of empathy, nuance, and not holding people responsible for the actions of others, or for imagined crimes that have not been committed. Think about how you don’t have any true insight or entitlement to how people create and consume media and how, even if you did, none of this would be an excuse to abuse people.

If you want an excuse to abuse a person because having an acceptable target feels good, perhaps it’s time to take a step back and think about what the real problem in the situation is. It’s easy to create a black list of people that are okay to hate based on their thoughtcrimes. It’s hard to have empathy and evaluate situations on a case by case basis, and assume that most people are good people. But it’s also much, much braver.