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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both. The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

#creepypasta fanfic #ticci tobyx reader #brain thomas x reader #timothy wright x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #reader insert #no clue if I'm reaching a wider audience than AO3 but I'll try this out #Crossposted #as of now 13 chapters are over on AO3 if you wanted to read #other wise I'll post a chapter every 3 days on here until I catch up with AO3 #Ao3 has priority #A cure for insomnia

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himboarcher · 4 years

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reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

#negativity cw #i guess #anyway this is not meant to say that you cannot enjoy grad.#but i'm tired of folks on this website acting like there aren't genuine problems with it #and saying that people just dislike it bc they hate travis etc etc #taz graduation #i genuinely don't expect anyone to read this bc it's so long #but here ya go.#long post

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paperanddice · 3 years

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Steelwings are massive, unnatural avian predators. Fierce and deadly, their appearances are often seen as bad omens. Part of this fear comes from the high possibility of the steelwings simply attacking, but beyond that they often seem to herald other upcoming wars and battles, as if it's drawn to the potential for spilled blood.

Steelwings stand approximately twelve feet tall, but their massive 30 foot wingspan allows them to fill up significantly more space than that. Their feathers are a dull gray color except for the brighter edges that grow naturally to a razor sharp edge. The steelwing can purposefully release these feathers as it sweeps its wings and body, throwing them with shocking accuracy through the air to impale and cut through the bodies of their opponents. Replacements grow in quickly, and within a day the steelwing will be back to its full compliment of feathers. Excess are shed regularly, and the area near a steelwing's lair will be littered with hundreds of cast offs. Most will be chipped or bent, but some will maintain a sharp edge and their value with it.

Steelwings are intelligent and capable of conversation, though rarely are they interested in it. While voracious, if offered easier prey they'll pass over most humanoids. The key exception is if their mates, chicks or eggs have been targeted recently. Their feathers and eggs are incredibly valuable, but anyone who kills a steelwing for its feathers or eggs will be hunted by the birds mates. They live in nesting groups of up to 4 members, and the survivors will do their best to track the killer or thief to the end of the world, often leaving a trail of wreckage and bodies in their wake to do so.

Originally from the 3.5 Monster Manual V. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as a spot on the Paper and Dice Discord server, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

A dead steelwing can be harvested for 5d20+20 undamaged feathers. They sell for 50 gp each, or 1 week of work can craft 20 of them into arrows or bolts. These pieces of ammunition are treated as if they were made of adamantine for overcoming damage resistances or immunities, and attacks with them can score a critical hit on a roll of 19 or 20.

The eggs are valuable, but players shouldn't be trafficking in the children of intelligent creatures and so I won't be giving an actual gold cost to them.

Steelwings originate from the Infinite Battlefield of the outer planes, and are usually only found on the Material Plane when in pursuit of planar travellers who stole their eggs or when "recruited" by one of the sides of the endless wars of the plane and somehow tasked with a mission that takes it to the Material world.

Steelwing Huge monstrosity, unaligned Armor Class 19 (natural armor) Hit Points 189 (18d12 + 72) Speed 30 ft., fly 100 ft. Str 25 (+7) Dex 15 (+2) Con 19 (+4) Int 6 (-2) Wis 16 (+3) Cha 14 (+2) Saving Throws Dex +7, Wis +8, Cha +7 Skills Perception +8 Damage Resistances bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks not made with adamantine weapons Senses passive Perception 18 Languages Sylvan Challenge 14 (11500 XP) Flyby. The steelwing doesn't provoke opportunity attacks when it flies out of an enemy's reach. Keen Sight. The steelwing has advantage on Wisdom (perception) checks that rely on sight. Razorfeather Shield. The steelwing generates a storm of razorfeathers around its body. At the start of each of its turns, each creature and object within 5 feet of the steelwing takes 7 (2d6) slashing damage. In addition, ranged attacks against the steelwing made with nonmagical weapons have disadvantage on the attack roll. Razorfeathers. The steelwing's wing and razor feather attacks can score a critical hit on a roll of 19 or 20. Actions Multiattack. The steelwing makes three attacks; one with its beak, one with its talons and one with its wings, or it makes three razor feather attacks. Beak. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 20 (3d8+7) piercing damage. Talons. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 17 (3d6+7) slashing damage and if the target is Large or smaller it is grappled. Until this grapple ends, the steelwing can't use its talons on another target and its walking speed is cut in half. Wings. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 16 (2d8+7) slashing damage. Razor Feather. Ranged Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, range 60/180 ft., one target. Hit: 11 (1d8+7) piercing damage. Hail Of Razorfeathers (1/Long Rest). The steelwing can unleash a spray of razor sharp feathers in a 60-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 17 Dexterity saving throw, taking 21 (6d6) slashing damage and 21 (6d6) piercing damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

13th Age

After a fight with a steelwing, characters can scrounge up enough feathers to sell for around 100 gp per character. Alternatively, by spending some time carefully crafting these feathers, they can craft 1d6 magical arrows or bolts per character. These pieces of ammunition have a crit range of 17+.

Creations of the infamous Metal Wizard of a past age, steelwings are powerful and tenacious enough to have survived the turn of the Ages ever since. They are well aware that many wish to hunt their valuable feathers and eggs, and as such stay far from the centers of civilization to avoid this.

Steelwing Large 8th level wrecker [beast] Initiative: +13 Talons and Beaks +13 vs. AC (2 attacks) - 35 damage Natural 16+: The steelwing can make a snatch attack against the same target as a free action. [Special Trigger] Snatch +12 vs. PD - 10 damage and the steelwing can grab the target as long as it isn’t already grabbing a creature. [Special Trigger] Drop +16 vs. PD (one enemy it’s grabbing; includes +4 grab bonus) - 100 damage and the target pops free from the steelwing and drops to land on the ground somewhere nearby. R: Razor Feather +13 vs. AC (one nearby enemy, or a far away enemy at -2 atk) - 25 damage Natural 12+: The steelwing can make another razor feather attack as a free action against a different target. It can make a number of razor feather attacks per turn equal to the escalation die +1. Fast Flight: The steelwing is a fast, agile flyer. When the escalation die is even, it can move again as a quick action. Into the Sky: If the steelwing started its turn only engaged with an enemy its grabbing, it can use its movement to fly to a spot far away and high in the air, and can make a drop attack as a standard action. Metal Feathers: The steelwing’s crit range with razor feather is expanded by 3. Razorfeather Shield: When an enemy engaged with the steelwing misses it with an attack and rolls a natural 1-5, that enemy takes 5 damage. AC 25 PD 22 MD 18 HP 260

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #13th Age #homebrew #my homebrew #monster #monstrosity #beast #long post

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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Hey Ruth! I noticed you've talked in the past about asexuality in quite a negative manner. As an ace-person (who has received backlash for it) I was wondering: do you still uphold these opinions?

Hey! I have in the past said I don’t really...like people popping up in my ask box asking me My Opinion On Asexuality, but I do appreciate you asking me as someone I kinda know and with your face turned on, so I’m gonna aim to answer in the macro. Though I mean it depends on what the opinions...are? I have had a lot of opinions over the time I’ve had this blog and I don’t necessarily know what all of them were or which ones have concerned you. I can give you a top-level view of how I see my views, though (however, since I have been largely holding off on answering this kind of ask for Literally A Year Now this is less an answer to your specific question and more an answer to the last year of asks)

(also if I get dogpiled in my inbox for Having Bad Asexuality Opinions which I do every time I talk about asexuality regardless of what I actually say then. my phone is broken I won’t know about it :) so I feel untouchable)

I don’t think I hold a negative opinion of asexuality as an identity (I say I don’t think bc we all have blind spots)? I have a lot of very important people in my life who are asexual, aromantic or aroace and. I mean it feels pretty condescending to say ~uwu it’s valid~ bc like. ace and aro people don’t really need my input to validate their identity. but a) it seems like a pretty accurate way to describe their experience and b) I know a lot of them have had a really huge boost from finding a name and community to fit their experience and have found that really helpful, and I’ve seen that make a huge difference in people’s lives and I’m really happy to watch my friends come to understand themselves and feel comfortable and accepted in a part of themselves they had felt really alienated or stigmatised by. In a broader sense, I think there’s huge value in decentralising romance and sex in our assumptions of What Human Happiness Means and for some people that’s not the most important thing, and for some it’s just not interesting.

So like. I find it difficult to really express these opinions in any meaningful way because my opinion on asexuals and aromantics is much like my opinion on trans people or idk like people of colour. like very obviously those people exist and very obviously those people don’t deserve to be marginalised or stigmatised but it would feel. weird and performative to just make a post saying like “Asexuality Is Good And Valid, I Am Pro It” bc again like. who needs my permission or cares about my opinion. it’s not a Good Thing To Do it’s just. a thing you are that shouldn’t be treated as a bad thing.

however. and I suspect that this is what you’re referring to. while I love and appreciate ace and aro people, I think building communities and active support for ace and aro people is valuable and needed and, as above, I think Asexuality Is Good And Valid I Am Pro It, I do take some issue with elements of how discussions around asexuality are framed online (pretty much only online, I really haven’t run into the kind of black-and-white thinking in in-person queer spaces)

and I also. think there are some issues with people extrapolating their experience of their own sexuality onto the world in a way which. I’m just going to say a lot of the time when I talk about The Ace Discourse in a negative way it’s around people assuming that the world is split into a binary between ace and allo people, or assuming that only aspec people experience a nuanced or complex or fluid relationship to their sexuality while pigeonholing allosexuality into a pretty flat image of sex and romance focus. and I have always felt like this does a massive disservice not just to people who don’t identify with aspec labels, but also to the general hope that we could work against the expectation that there’s a Standard Amount To Value Sex/Romance - I think that the assumption that there are aspec people and then Everyone Else Has The Normal Type and Level of Attraction just. reinforces the idea that there’s a “Normal” type and level of attraction. which is ultimately pretty self-defeating and also just. observably untrue.

and this division of the world into Aspec People and Allo People also has some other weird knockon effects - I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with identities like gray ace or demi or other aspec labels beyond asexual and aromantic, but I do think that the way those labels are used is often. unhelpful. and they’re defined in such personal, subjective ways that you get weirdnesses sometimes like people Diagnosing Each Other With Demisexual or people saying ‘you can’t talk about this experience you share because it’s an Aspec Experience’ and again. there isn’t a concrete material experience there because the whole experience of romantic and sexual attraction, what that feels like and how sharply divisible it is is very, very personal and subjective. and everyone has different experiences of those and will name those experiences differently.

there’s also. historically a minority of Big Ace Blogs that kind of sneer at allosexuality or who would hijack posts about other issues to derail them to asexuality. but I don’t think they were ever representative of the community as a whole and I certainly think that inasmuch as those blogs remain around they’re a legacy of the Long-Ago (and a lot of them are trolls imo)

but there is. an issue I take that does seem to be more currently live which is the question of allo privilege. I think personally that framing all allosexuals/alloromantics as privileged over all aspec people on the basis of feeling sexual/romantic attraction is provably untrue in a world where people, particularly queer people, are actively oppressed and marginalised for expressing non-normative sexuality. it isn’t that I don’t think asexuality and aromanticism isn’t marginalised and stigmatised, because it visibly is, but it seems pretty reductive to boil it down to a binary yes/no privilege when both sexualisation and desexualisation are so actively tied into other forms of marginalisation (this is what I was trying to express in the argument about Martin a while ago - sex and sexuality are so often disincentivised for fat, queer, disabled and neuroatypical people that it doesn’t...feel like a reclamation that those tend to be the characters that get fanonised as ace where slim, straight, able-bodied and neurotypical characters aren’t. like it’s more complex than a binary privilege equation; sex and romance are incentivised and stigmatised differently at the intersection of oppressions and. for example. in a world where gay conversion therapy and religious oppression of gay and SGA people is so often focused specifically on celibacy and on punishing the act of sexual attraction, I don’t think it’s a reasonable framing to say that a gay allosexual man has privilege over an aroace man on the basis of his attraction)

so those are like. things I would consider myself to feel actively negative about in online discourse (and again. in online discourse. not in how I relate to asexuality or aromanticism or aspec identities in general but in the framing and approaches people take towards discussing it in a very specific bubble).

but also. um. the main criticism I have of the online discourse culture of asexuality is that there are things I don’t have experience of that I have mentioned, when asked, that I don’t personally understand the meaning of but I don’t need to understand them to appreciate that they’re useful/meaningful to others. things like

the difference between QPRs, asexual romantic relationships and close friendships

how you know the difference between romantic attraction and friendship

the distinction between sexual attraction and a desire to have sex with someone for another reason

and I hope I’ve generally been clear that this is. honest lack of understanding and not condemnation. I personally have a very muddled sense of attraction and often have difficulty identifying the specifics of any of my own emotional needs so like. it’s a closed book for me at the moment, how you would identify the fine distinctions between types of want when I’m still at step 1: identify That You Want Something Of Some Sort, Eventually, Through Trial And Error. but I think I’ve always been explicit that this isn’t a value judgement it’s just a gap in my own knowledge and yet. every single time I’ve said anything other than enthusiastic “yes I understand this and I love it and it’s good and valid” (and again. I have not gone out of my way to talk about it I have mostly only mentioned it because people keep asking me to talk about it) I have got a massive rush of anger and accusations of aphobia and “just shut up if you don’t know what you’re talking about but also answer my 30 questions to prove you think Correct Things about asexuality” and. I understand that this comes from a place of really unpleasant and aggressive backlash towards the ace community so it’s a sensitivity with a lot of people but like. it doesn’t seem proportional.

also I feel like ever since I hit like 700 followers my Tumblr life has been a constant cycle of people asking me Are You An Ace Inclusionist Are You An Exclus Are You An Aphobe Justify Your Opinion On Asexuality which. eventually yeah I’ve got pretty snippy about the whole thing. but you know. fuck it I’m just gonna lay it out and if you or anyone else is uncomfortable following me based on those opinions then I’m sorry to hear that and I will be sad to see you not want to engage with me any more but I also think that’s absolutely your prerogative. however I will not be taking questions at this time (and not just bc my phone’s broken) - demands for an argument about this Are Going To Be Ignored so if you want to go then go.

so like the big question I reckon is Do You Think Asexuality Is Queer and

yes. no. maybe. I don’t understand the question what does it mean for an identity to be queer?

there are spaces and conversations where any form of aromanticism or asexuality makes sense as a relevant identity. talking about hegemonic expectations of normative romance. building community. combatting the idea that heterosexual missionary married sex between a man and a woman is the only rewarding or valuable form of relationship or intimacy.

there are spaces where I think heterosexual aros/heteromantic cis aces don’t. have a more meaningful or direct experience of the issues than allo cishets. because while being aro or ace or aspec has a direct impact on those people on a personal and relational level, disclosure is largely a choice, and the world at large sees them as straight. they don’t have the lived experience of being visibly nonconforming that SGA people and aroace people do. they may still be queer but there’s a lot of conversations where they bring a lot of the baggage of being Straight People (because. even if you’re ace or aro you can still be straight in your romantic or sexual attraction and if your relationships are all outwardly straight then you don’t necessarily have an intimate personal understanding of being marginalised from mainstream society by dint of your sexuality). this doesn’t make you Not Queer in the same way that being a bi person who’s only ever been in m/f relationships is still queer, but in both cases a) you don’t magically have a personal experience of societal oppression through the transitive properties of Being Queer and b) it’s really obnoxious to talk as if you’re The Most Oppressed when other people are trying to have a conversation about their lived experience of societal oppression. and they’re within their rights to say ‘we’re talking about the experience of being marginalised for same gender/non-heterosexual attraction and you’re straight, could you butt out?’)

(I very much object to the assumption coming from a lot of exclus that “cishet ace” is a term that can reasonably be applied to non-orientated aroace people though. het is not a default it really extremely doesn’t make sense to treat people who feel no attraction as Straight By Default. when I were a lad I feel like we mostly understood “asexual” to mean that identity - non-orientated aroace - and while I think it’s obvious that a lot of people do find value in using a more split-model because. well. some people are both gay/straight/bi and aro/ace, and it’s good that language reflects that. but I do think it’s left a gap in the language to simply refer to non-attracted people. this isn’t a criticism of anything in particular - there’s a constant balancing act in language between specificity and adaptability and sometimes a gain for one is a loss for the other)

some queer conversations and spaces just. aren’t built with aces in mind. and that isn’t a flaw. some spaces aren’t built with men in mind, but that doesn’t mean men can’t be queer. some conversations are about Black experiences of queerness but that doesn’t mean non-Black people can’t be queer. not all queer spaces will focus on ace needs but that doesn’t mean asexuality isn’t queer, or that queerness is opposed to aceness - sex, sexuality, romance and dating are all really important things to a lot of queer people, especially those whose sexuality and romantic relationships are often stigmatised or violently suppressed in wider society. there should be gay bars, hookup apps, gay and trans friendly sex education, making out at Pride, leather parades and topless dyke marches and porn made by and for queer people, romantic representation in media of young and old gay, bi and trans couples kissing and snuggling and getting married and saying sloppy romantic things. and there should be non-sexual queer spaces, there should be discussions around queerness that don’t suppose that a monogamous romantic relationship is what everyone’s fighting for, sex ed should be ace inclusive, etc.

I think the whole question of inclusionism vs exclusionism is based on a weird underlying assumption that If An Identity Is Queer All Queer Spaces Should Directly Cater To That. like. aspec identities can be queer and it can be totally reasonable for there to be queer spaces that revolve around being sexual and romantic and there can be conversations it’s not appropriate or productive to centre asexuality and aspec experiences in and we can recognise that not all queer people do prioritise or have any interest in sex or romance. in the same way that there’s value in centring binary trans experiences sometimes and nonbinary experiences at other times but both of those conversations should recognise that neither binary or nonbinary gender identity is a Universal Queer Experience.

anyway that one probably isn’t one of the opinions you were asking about but I have been wanting to find a way to express it for a while so you’re getting it: the Ruth Thedreadvampy Inclusionism Take.

uh. it’s 1:30 on a work night so I have been typing too long. if there was an opinion you were specifically thinking of that I haven’t mentioned, chuck me another ask specifically pointing to what you want me to clarify my thinking on. sometimes I gotta be honest I’ve just been kind of careless in my framing (thinking of the Martin Fucks debacle where I spent ages insisting I didn’t say Martin couldn’t be aroace then read back like two days later and realised that I had said “he’s not aroace” bc I had written the post at 2am without proofreading and had meant to say “unless you think he’s aroace”) so I May Well Not Stand By Some Posts or might Stand By Them With Clarification

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thatsamericano · 3 years

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That Thing That Isn’t Biphobia

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. America and Japan brotp. Mentions of Belmano and past Prumano. Very brief mentions of Giripan, Gerita, and Lietpol. Human AU.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of biphobia and violence (though no actual biphobia or violence). Mentions of ace/arophobia from Alfred’s parents, who don’t appear in the story.

Word Count: 3317

Summary: Alfred thinks he’s biphobic because he gets unreasonably angry and upset whenever he sees his roommate having relationships with men or women. He hates himself for being prejudiced against Savino, but an honest conversation with another friend helps him realize his “biphobia” wasn’t biphobia at all.

Note: Prequel to That Thing Where You Fall In Love With Your Best Friend. Inspired by the reddit story of the “straight” guy who fell in love with his gay roommate and mistook his jealousy for homophobia.

Alfred was supposed to be eating lunch with Kiku today, but after fifteen minutes he had only moved the sushi around the plate with his chopsticks several times. Guilt was gnawing away at his mind, and he couldn’t focus on anything else, even sushi that he knew would be tasty since Kiku had chosen the restaurant this time.

At least he wasn’t nauseous, like he would be when Savino was around his girlfriend.

Emma was perfectly sweet, and Alfred had no reason to dislike her. She was genuinely friendly to him and Tolys, even if her main reason for stopping by the apartment was to spend time with her boyfriend. She and Vinny were affectionate, but they didn’t engage in enough PDA to bother any reasonable person. Yet every time Savino would casually drop his arm around her shoulders and she’d snuggle up to his side, Alfred had to look away to keep his stomach from roiling. Every time he called her some sappy Italian endearment and she giggled and replied to him with something in Flemish, Alfred wanted to drive spikes into his ears just so he’d never have to hear them again. When they kissed in front of him, Alfred felt like screaming or crying, and he didn’t understand why.

The same thing had happened a few months ago when he was hooking up with Gilbert, that albino German dude he’d met because Vinny’s little brother was dating Gilbert’s little brother. Gilbert and Savino didn’t call each other sappy nicknames, because it was just a friends with benefits arrangement, but they did spend a few nights together. One morning, Alfred was in the middle of eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch when Gilbert emerged from Savino’s room wearing only a pair of boxers. After nearly choking on his cereal, Alfred finished his breakfast as quickly as he could and left the apartment to circle the block five times, which calmed him down enough to refrain from punching some poor guy just for having sex with his roommate. By the time Alfred had returned, Gilbert had left, thank fucking God. But whenever he thought of the things they must have done together or the things Savino had done with Emma, a painful tightness seized Alfred’s chest, and it became extraordinarily difficult to breathe. Even after they had gone back to being just friends, Gilbert liked to visit occasionally, and he liked to tease Savino with comments made him splutter and blush. Every time he saw Savino’s reaction to some comment Gilbert had made, Alfred felt unreasonably angry, and he wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off Gilbert’s face with his fist.

Alfred knew it was wrong. Savino had never judged him for being ace/aro, and Alfred had absolutely no right to judge him for being bi. Savino was an amazing friend and a wonderful roommate, and he deserved all the happiness in the world. He certainly deserved better than living with a biphobic piece of shit like Alfred. What kind of fucked up asshole couldn’t stand to see one of their best friends happy just because the way they were happy was different from what they wanted for themselves?

Alfred hadn’t mentioned a word of how he felt to anyone. He didn’t want to hurt Vinny with this stupid prejudice that came out of nowhere, and he didn’t want everyone in his life to hate him the way he deserved. Savino, of course, wouldn’t want anything to do with Alfred if he knew, and neither would Tolys, who was bi too. All of his friends would be disgusted by the ugly and vicious sentiments Alfred harbored, and he would have to move back in with the shitty parents who thought his asexuality was a silly, immature phase he would grow out of eventually once he really came out of the closet. Even his own twin would want nothing to do with him. Mattie was straight, but unlike Alfred, he was a decent person who would never hate someone for being themselves.

But the sad truth was that he didn’t hate Savino. Vinny didn’t smile that much compared to Alfred, but when he did, it resembled the sun coming through the clouds. When he laughed at Alfred for doing something dumb, Alfred felt giddy, and he wanted to do something even stupider just to hear that beautiful sound again. He was a talented artist and an amazing cook, and Alfred had grown addicted both to Savino’s cappuccinos and to sitting at the counter and chatting with him while he worked. Vinny was like a human space heater, and he always smelled like fancy cologne Alfred wasn’t sophisticated enough to use himself. When they hugged, Alfred never really wanted to let go. The idea of not having Savino in his life was the worst thing Alfred could imagine, so he had to pretend everything was just fine and that nothing had changed.

He was frowning down at his sushi, too heartsick to eat any of it, when Kiku hesitantly spoke up. “Alfred-kun, are you all right? You’ve been unusually quiet, and you haven’t touched your food today.”

Alfred sighed and made eye contact with him. “I’m fine. Just not hungry, I guess.”

Kiku looked worried. “If you aren’t in the mood for sushi, we could go somewhere else. I don’t want you to skip lunch because you were trying to accommodate me.”

Alfred set down his chopsticks, which he hadn’t been using for their intended purpose. “It’s not the sushi, dude. I’ve just been feeling kind of off lately.”

“Off how?”

Alfred hesitated. Kiku was his close friend. In some ways, he understood Alfred better than anyone else because he was asexual too. The only difference was that he was gray-romantic, because he had gotten very close to someone once, and he wasn’t sure if what he’d felt for Herakles years ago was romantic or not.

That meant Kiku might be attracted to guys at least a little. So he would see the way Alfred had reacted to the mere idea of Savino being with a guy as a personal attack, and rightly so. He wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that, and Alfred couldn’t blame him.

Alfred hunched in on himself and fixed his gaze determinedly on the table top. “You shouldn’t worry about it. It’s a dumb problem, and I need to get over it.”

“But you’re my friend,” Kiku stated plainly. “Of course I’ll worry when you aren’t acting like yourself. I care about you.”

Alfred took a deep breath and blinked his eyes rapidly to stop himself from crying in the middle of a Japanese restaurant, which would unnecessarily embarrass everyone around him. Kiku’s concern only made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve it at all.

“I think I’m a bad person,” Alfred muttered. “I might’ve picked up on some prejudices from my parents, but it’s not like I want to feel this way. And I can’t blame it all on other people. It’s my responsibility to quit being a dick to people for no reason.”

“You’re prejudiced? Against who?” Kiku already sounded annoyed at him, and he hadn’t even heard everything. He’d barely heard anything.

“Bi people, I think. Either that or I just really don’t like Europeans, which isn’t okay either.” Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, dreading Kiku’s reaction.

For a long moment, all Alfred heard was the sound of people at others eating and talking to each other. Finally, Kiku spoke. “Alfred, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s biphobia, dude! Of course it doesn’t make sense.”

“But both your roommates are bi. And European, for that matter.”

Alfred groaned in despair and fisted his hands in his hair. “I know. And if they found out, they’d hate me forever and want nothing more to do with me.” Fuck, if he couldn’t make this go away, he was going to lose two of his best friends. In addition to Kiku, who he’d probably lost already.

“You’ve always seemed so fond of Tolys and Savino.” Weirdly, Kiku didn’t sound pissed off. He sounded like he was trying to reason through a complex math problem. “If you were prejudiced against them, wouldn’t this have come up sooner? You’ve been living with them for years, and you never mentioned having a problem with their orientation before.”

“Because I didn’t have a problem before! I didn’t know I was like this until Vinny started hooking up with that German dude a few months ago. I saw him coming out of Vinny’s bedroom one time, and ever since then I’ve hated Gilbert for no fucking reason.”

“Knowing they’d been together in that way made you uncomfortable?”

Alfred grimaced. “It was more than uncomfortable. More like angry. Really angry. I had to leave the apartment to calm myself down. I still feel like punching something whenever Gil teases him and makes him turn red. And when I think about them doing stuff with each other, my chest feels weird and it’s hard to breathe.”

Alfred dared to glance up at Kiku, who had a carefully neutral expression on his face. “I see. And what about his girlfriend, Emma? She seemed nice when I met her.”

Alfred sighed. “Emma is nice. But it’s a similar deal, only more sappy because they’re an actual couple. I feel queasy when they cuddle on the couch, and I feel so upset when they kiss in front of me, even if it’s not like they’re Frenching for five minutes or whatever. I can’t stand it when I hear them getting all sappy in Italian or Flemish. And I’m just as mad if I think about them having sex, which is why it’s probably biphobia and not homophobia.” Alfred chuckled weakly, disgusted with himself. “Apparently, I’m such a crappy friend I can’t let Savino be happy, even with a girl.” God, Alfred loathed himself.

Kiku’s next question surprised him completely. “How do you feel about Feliks? They’re still with Tolys, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are. Feliks is cool. I like hanging out with them. I think I might have accidentally gotten them a little too addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, though.” Alfred smiled fondly at the thought of Tolys’s partner. Feliks was a fun person. Alfred had never had a problem with them.

“Were you ever uncomfortable when they showed affection in front of you?”

Alfred furrowed his brow. “Not that I can think of? But maybe it’s because Feliks and Tolys have been together for a while, so I’m used to it.” They’d been together since before Alfred developed this sudden, unexpected biphobia problem. God, he hoped that he didn’t start hating Feliks too. That would really suck.

Kiku nodded to himself. “I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. And contrary to what you told me, I don’t think you’re biphobic.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I think you’re jealous.”

“But why would I be jealous? Because Vinny goes on dates and hooks up with people, and I’ve never been with anybody? That doesn’t make any sense. I never wanted to be more than friends with somebody.”

Kiku gave him a pitying look. “But I think you do now. I think something must have changed, and now you have feelings for Savino. You were jealous of his most recent partners because you wish you were them.”

For a moment, Alfred was too stunned to say anything. He glanced down at his uneaten sushi. “But I don’t like people that way. I can’t. I never have.” He felt scared because so much of his identity was shifting away underneath him. It hadn’t been easy for Alfred to tell people who he was, especially when he had to explain it to people who wouldn’t inherently understand him the way Kiku did. Not everyone had accepted him. His own parents had made him feel like crap for it. He didn’t want to prove them right, because asexuality and aromanticism weren’t phases.

Every time he told people he was ace/aro, he’d been sure of himself. He’d been more certain of that than anything. But now he didn’t know who he was anymore.

“Alfred, how do you feel about Savino when he isn’t with another person?”

“Just being around him makes me happy. But that could totally be a friendship thing, right? It’s normal to feel happy around your friends. I’m happy around you and Tolys too!” But maybe it wasn’t normal to compare your friend’s smile to the sun or to think that the sound of their laugh was beautiful. Maybe you could enjoy hugging your friends, but something other than friendship was going on if you felt so warm and safe in their arms that you never wanted to let go.

Alfred glanced up into Kiku’s eyes, which were a warm, dark brown, filled with compassion and understanding. He felt calmer looking at his friend’s face, but he didn’t feel enraptured. He didn’t feel mesmerized when he stared into Kiku’s eyes, like he could do nothing but sit across from him and stare at him for hours. He had felt like that with Vinny.

Alfred coughed awkwardly and looked off to the side as he felt heat starting to creep up his neck and over his cheeks. His thoughts were weird, embarrassing, and really confusing.

“How do you feel about the idea of being in a relationship with him?” Kiku asked.

“I hadn’t really thought of it before,” Alfred admitted. “But it doesn’t sound bad.” Not much would change, really. They’d still be close, just in a different way. He’d be the one snuggling up to Vinny instead of Emma, and that would probably feel nice, considering how much Alfred liked hugging him. He’d be the person getting called something like “tesoro,” and the idea of a special nickname made him feel fluttery, just like he felt when Vinny had started calling him “Fredo,” only more intense. And the idea of kissing Savino on the lips instead of just that cheek kissing thing he did with his friends…

Okay, that made Alfred nervous. But not bad nervous, more like “I’m about to go on the biggest rollercoaster at the theme park” nervous. Alfred had always enjoyed the thrill of rollercoasters, the experience of screaming his head off as his heart raced a mile a minute. If kissing could feel like that, then he definitely wanted to kiss Savino. At some point, he might even want to do more than kiss Savino, which wasn’t something he’d ever considered before. The mere fact that he was even thinking about having sex without immediately recoiling said a lot.

Alfred grabbed his drink and quickly slurped up a lot of soda through his straw. He felt like he was about to explode from all the feelings inside him, and the soda helped cool him down a little. He kept a tight grip on the glass afterwards.

“I like him,” he confessed, near tears. “I like Savi so, so much, and I have no idea what this means for me. I don’t understand who I am anymore.”

“You’re the same person you always were, even if you’re discovering something new about yourself. And you’re still my friend. That will never change.”

Alfred released the glass slowly. “Thanks, dude. That means a lot.”

“If you like, I could help you look on the AVEN website sometime. You might not be completely asexual and aromantic, but I’m sure there’s a term out there for what you’re experiencing. It might help you make sense of things.”

“I appreciate that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad I’m not a secretly horrible biphobic asshole, but my head’s kind of a mess right now.”

Kiku chuckled softly. “That’s understandable.”

Alfred finally felt good enough to eat something, so he picked up a piece of sushi with his fingers, since chopsticks were still awkward for him to use, even if he’d eaten with Kiku many times. Fortunately, it wasn’t considered rude to eat sushi with your hands. Alfred chewed his food, and he thought things over. “Vinny has a girlfriend, and he seems really happy with her. Having a crush on him and knowing I have a crush on him is gonna be awkward as hell. Maybe not as awkward as thinking I’m an evil prejudiced monster, but still.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell him that part. But I do want to tell him and Tolys something once I figure all this stuff out. And my brother too. But telling my parents is… God, that’s gonna be a fucking nightmare. They were so shitty to me before, and they’re gonna be really smug and annoying if turns out they were right. I don’t wanna play into stereotypes like that.” Most people who said they were ace/aro didn’t change their minds later, but in his parent’s view, asexuality and aromanticism weren’t real, valid experiences, and any person who said they were asexual or aromantic was lying to themselves and using those labels as a mask for something else. Or maybe they just hadn’t found “the right person.”

Alfred had never intentionally lied about his sexuality, but his parents wouldn’t see it that way. This stupid crush on his roommate was reinforcing stereotypes that hurt people like the really awesome friend who had taken him out to lunch today and helped him realize his feelings, and Alfred felt guilty about that.

Kiku had an uncomfortable look on his face. “It’s not your responsibility to represent all people on the ace and aro spectrums. You have just as much of a right to explore how you feel as anyone else does. I think you should give yourself time to do that and only tell other people about this when you feel ready.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Right now, I don’t even know what to tell people.” Alfred picked up another piece of sushi and started to eat it.

“You told me today. That’s a good start.”

Alfred waited to swallow his bite, and then he gave Kiku a toothy, grateful smile. Kiku smiled back at him, and they finished their lunch together in a much more relaxed mood. Alfred didn’t have the dark cloud of guilt hanging over his head anymore, even if realizing he might be in love with one of his roommates gave him a lot of new things to worry about.

After they finished their food, they split the bill based on what they had ordered. Kiku had to take the bus back to work, so they would part ways outside the restaurant.

Alfred was a little surprised when Kiku inched closer with a shy look on his face and threw his arms around him. He wasn’t normally big on the whole physical affection thing.

Alfred returned the hug and laughed a little. “What’s all this about?”

“After our conversation today, I thought you might need it. Take care, Alfred.”

“Yeah, you too. Talk to you soon, bro.”

Kiku pulled away, nodded, and turned around to start walking to the bus stop. Alfred headed in the opposite direction, and he reflected on what had just happened.

Hugging Kiku was nice, but it didn’t make him feel tingly and floaty like hugging Savino did. Alfred appreciated the hug as a friendly gesture, especially since Kiku wasn’t the world’s huggiest person, but it had been easy to let go of Kiku when he wanted to leave. His arms didn’t feel empty, the way they did when Vinny stepped out an embrace, muttering under his breath about Alfred’s clinginess with a scarlet blush on his face.

Alfred didn’t feel the same way towards Savino he did to his other friends, but that was okay. Alfred was confused and a little scared by everything he’d realized today, but he wasn’t a terrible person, and he would figure things out eventually. He would be okay too.

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shinydelirium · 3 years

Text

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 8 (Kiro) Part 2 [Scramble] & [Bad Signs] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For the previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 8: Part 1

Enjoy~

[Scramble]

Tomorrow is Kiro’s new song conference.

This will be Kiro’s first public appearance since the “black powder incident”.

There are still many things to prepare and Kiro’s plan to “disappear out of thin air” has been resolved and things are on track again.

Such an ordinary and busy life makes me feel a long-lost sense of peace.

At 7 o’clock in the evening, I opened the door of the office and put my coffee and supper for overtime work on the table, but found that everyone was gathered around watching something.

MC: What’s going on?

Kiki: A large passenger plane almost crashed.

Kiki spoke and pointed to the live video taken by a witness on the screen.

Kiki: I heard that the aircraft was affected by strong air currents which caused the aircraft’s instruments to malfunction. During landing, it almost ran off the runway. Look, it’s so thrilling!

MC: Are there any casualties?

Willow: Although it landed safely, there is probably still some psychological aftermath.

Willow: By the way, boss, didn’t you also go to the airport today? Didn’t you know how serious it was?

I took the newspaper and scanned the headlines that were in bold.

“Fright in the air—Captain Evolver turned the tide and saved 189 passengers”—Was it that serious?!

Kiki: In fact, it is also a good thing. The relationship between ordinary people and Evolvers was so tense some time ago. This news can ease the relationship.

Kiki: Oh yeah, boss, here is the venue layout for the new song conference. You can take a look.

Kiki’s words brought me back to the present, and I took the plan from her.

The company attaches great importance to this event and has specially contracted the central square with the largest traffic in the city center and selected 3000 fans to participate in this new song launch event.

The surrounding LED screens and bus stations were all taken over by Kiro advertisements and even the subway stations printed the promotion of Kiro’s new song release in advance.

MC: Our security measures must be handled well, and there must be no mistakes and follow-up propaganda must be kept up while the iron is hot.

MC: Wait a minute, what’s that webpage right there?

Kiki: Oh, this—

Willow: …Don’t look at it, boss.

I didn’t listen and grabbed the mouse and clicked on the webpage. As soon as I looked, the huge bold words caught my attention.

“Freshly released--11th Annual Lightning Protection Ranking for Media Graduate’s Employment”

Kiki: Boss, your approval rate is only 10%.

Willow: You have to add the votes cast by a few of us to switch back and forth for you.

MC: ….Why are you so concerned about such boring things!

Willow: Hehe, this is not for you to fight injustice.

Kiki: But don’t worry, as long as Kiro stands on the stage, everything will be fine. He is our ace artist.

I clicked on the comment section of “Miracle Finder” and found that there were still many insults against the show and Evolvers.

Kiki: Speaking of, there was a high school student who came to the company last week and said he was looking for the boss. His words were very intense and I didn’t know why.

Kiki: It could also be affected by recent public opinion to express dissatisfaction with our program.

Thinking of countless harassing calls, rumors from the outside world, obstacles and prejudices during the filming of “Miracle Finder”…

I couldn’t help but clench my fists. Then, my heart ignited an unprecedented fighting spirit.

MC: Alright, it’s time to kick away the negativity and theories that have accumulated before!

The cold light from above shines into the empty, confined dim space. The dark grey staircase in the middle continues to spiral up like a snake sleeping in the shadows.

??: Sir, the undercover agents F-45 and U-2 of the Task Force have died.

??: …Also, the young man said that no more medicine will be provided to us during this time. If we want to trade, we need to show greater sincerity.

Thinking of the dark gray-eyed youth, the reporting man showed fear on his face.

??: …The experimental record of the transaction at the auction is indeed fake and it appears to be bait released by B.S. itself.

The man in the wheelchair did not respond and seemed not to care about the news reported by his subordinate.

He only looked at the detailed information in his hand.

“The Inverted Smile Film and Television Company’s veteran variety show “Miracle Finder” has reached a new record. The company and the Task Force have reached a filming cooperation and the crime documentary has been a great success”…

His gaze fell on a line of words, showing a thoughtful expression.

It turns out that the producer who was taken away by the Task Force is also from B.S.

A smiled appeared on his lips and his fingers seemed to tap the handrail lightly in a steady rhythm.

??: Sir, we can’t wait any longer. The organization’s recent actions have been constrained everywhere. We must find the person behind it…..

The man in the wheelchair raised his head and looked at his subordinate gently.

??: Don’t worry, there is still plenty of time.

??: When the fish bites the hook and jumps out of the water, you will naturally see the person fishing on the other end.

??: Right now, we have found the best fish to bite the bait.

[Bad Signs]

With Kiro’s return, my work has been on the right track.

The days seem to blend together and there has been no room for breathing.

Early the next morning, I drowsily walked out the gate of the residence, ready to go to the company.

A newsstand was set up next to the entrance and several people were distributing free newspapers while saying something to the pedestrians passing by.

Enthusiastic woman: Hey, miss, come here.

MC: Ma’am, what is it?

I took the newspaper from her in wonder. My eyes quickly swept across the headlines of today’s news.

“In-depth restoration of airport accident; the flight nearly crashed due to the Captain’s Evol!?!”

I skimmed through the full article and found that today’s news’ explanation of the aviation accident was a big reversal compared to yesterday.

It turned out that the accident wasn’t caused by turbulence, but because the captain’s Evol was out-of-control.

Yesterday’s news was just to quell the recent series of press releases against Evolvers, concealing the facts.

Is that really the case….

Looking at the vicious words above, I frowned slightly.

The people handing out the newspapers yelled the truth about the media’s hidden information while continuing to distribute newspapers to passing pedestrians.

The crowd of onlookers whispered on one side and from time to time, their conversations trickled into my ears.

Passerby A: The truth about yesterday’s emergency landing accident was not what was reported on TV at all.

Passerby B: Obviously this Captain’s out-of-control Evol affected the flight and yet they said he was a hero. I think this kind of person shouldn’t be in this type of industry.

Passerby C: Yeah, Evolvers shouldn’t be engaged in this kind of business when they are responsible for public safety!

The ridicule of Evolvers and the dissatisfaction with the truth about the media hiding things continued on. Some are justified but some are just unfounded.

Hearing everyone’s increasingly violent words, my heart feels weak.

The life that has been calm for a short time seems to have caused waves again.

As soon as I got to the company, my cell phone rang and I saw it was an unfamiliar number.

MC: Hello? May I ask who’s calling?

The other end was quiet for a while, and then I heard a somewhat stiff voice.

??: Cancel today’s event or you will face the consequences.

The person on the other end deliberately lowered his voice but I could still tell that he was a young boy.

MC: Sorry, I don’t understand what you are talking about.

MC: Hello…?

He suddenly hung up.

I was confused and wanted to call back but only the sound of a dial tone was heard.

Getting all kinds of strange phone calls these days, I didn’t pay too much attention to it but I still increased security measures for the afternoon activities.

I put down my phone and looked up at the weather outside the window feeling a little disturbed.

In any case, I hope everything goes well in the afternoon.

On the empty train station platform, a staff member made an announcement, urging passengers to leave.

After confirming that no one remained, he walked out of the kiosk, put a “suspended operation” sign in front of the train and left.

In a corner where no one noticed, the elevator door slowly opened and a thin boy stepped out.

He lowered his head and walked to the car door, slightly raised his hand and the sign was pushed aside.

When he raised his hand again, the train door seemed to be torn open arbitrarily by some force.

The boy went straight in.

The quiet train suddenly rumbled and lurched forward.

-End of Part 2-

Continue to Final Part

#spoilers #mlqc #mlqc spoilers #mlqc season 2 #mlqc translations #mlqc season 2 translations #kiro #kiro spoilers #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mr love game #koi to producer #mr love dream date #mldd #kira #zhou qiluo

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cipher-fresh · 3 years

Note

hey this is really random and feel free to ignore if you're uncomfortable answering for whatever reason - I recently have been starting to consider that I may be ace - I think I've known for a long time but I just kind of repressed it lol.. anyways I noticed you're ace and I was wondering how you came to terms with your identity and how you knew you were ace?? I've just been having a really hard time accepting that this might be who I am.

Hi! I’m flattered you’re reaching out to me, I hope I can answer these well enough to help.

I’d definitely been aware of the queer community for a few years before I was definitively calling myself asexual, but for years beforehand my parents would jokingly worry about when me and my sibling would become boy-crazy and attracted to people in middle/high school. That just never came for me, and I always thought people were exaggerating romantic attraction, then sexual attraction when I got older. I found out about the ace community through queer Instagram and something clicked. I first started calling myself asexual in 2017, and although I was worried about my parents finding out, I was relieved to know other people felt the same as me, this sense of other feeling like sexual attraction was almost made up and if not fake, definitely exaggerated. Like, everyone knows dating and romance aren’t all that world-shattering, right? I tried to find boys to have crushes on, and while I had a male friend or two, I couldn’t really imagine we’d ever be in a romantic or sexual relationship.

I came to terms with my identity by confiding in other queer people, doing some research into the experiences of other ace people- not a whole lot, but enough to see that a lot of other people felt the same things as me. (also, just headcanoning asexuality onto all of my favorite characters- Ford Pines, I’m looking at you!- to feel an extra connection with things I already liked.) As a gen Z kid, I’m lucky to have learned about asexuality as a young teenager just when kids my age were starting dating, and I would have an explanation and community to interact with of other people who felt the same as me.

Here are some things other ace people have touched on that are common ace experiences:

-Acknowledging that celebrities can aesthetically look nice, but it feels weird that people genuinely want to have sex with them, or that people’s desire for sex is universally exaggerated.

-Cheating plot lines on movies/TV just don’t make sense. This isn’t an asexual-only experience, but it’s a lot more common with ace people, because the thought is, “Why would you have sex with someone you don’t know/aren’t dating…the whole point is an emotional connection?”

-Also with TV, “Love at first sight” with characters who hate each other, but think the other is attractive, making no sense at all. Why spend any time with them if you dislike them?

-You’re waiting for the moment when you finally “get” the hype about attraction and being horny, because you missed it at the time it was supposed to come.

I can’t speak for the world’s experience of being asexual, but those are ones that came to my head immediately. Asexuality is a spectrum, and there are asexual people who love sex, (surprise!), hate it, and everything possible in between. The important part is not feeling sexual *attraction*, or for gray-ace identities under the asexual umbrella, feeling it very, very minimally.

Being asexual in the current day and age can feel isolating, but it’s not because one is broken or not good enough, it is because of aphobia and exclusionists. I’ve made the best out of it by finding other asexual friends, engaging in queer and sexual media, and being able to appreciate myself as someone who doesn’t feel sexual attraction. Asexual spaces on the internet right now are festering with aphobes and exclusionists, but I’ve found a lot of connection and joy from the community that exists.

Ultimately, I as a stranger on the internet can’t give a final verdict to your identity, only you can do that. I know the thought if this uncertainty in your identity is scary, and for example I’ve wanted for a long time to just know what my romantic attraction is. I don’t know. I’m going to keep searching through the community, experiencing things in life, and see if anyone else’s experiences resonate with me until I find a label I’m happy with.

Look over some experiences with other asexual people- https://www.google.com/amp/s/deamortis66.tumblr.com/post/121006100744/im-laughing-so-hard-i-didnt-think-sexual-desire/amp this post summarizes a lot of asexual people’s common experiences.

If, once you’ve finished taking a long, hard look and you find that calling yourself asexual makes you happy, I’d be ecstatic to welcome you to the community, and we’ll have some cake to celebrate. If not, you’ve still done worthwhile introspection, and you can be yourself, intentionally.

I wish you the best of luck. Forging your identity isn’t a one-step process, and if you understand the experiences of the asexual community now, and feel different about it later, that’s normal. Sometimes, labels just change as time goes on. Queer labels are less of a brand and more of a sticker from a sticker book that you makes you smile when you see it. You can take it off and always put on a new one, but if you’re sure about your identity, you keep that sticker.

Asexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, I love myself for being it, and it’s something I’m proud of. I can only hope that you find something you’ll be proud to call yourself.

#updates from liv #anon if you’re seeing this I love you okay?#queer #asexual

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onebatch2batch · 4 years

Note

kastle + “Do you even own a shirt?” please!!

Thank you so much for the prompt, this was really fun to write!!

–

The worst part about finding a new roommate, Karen finds, is the staggering amount of bullshit to wade through just to find someone who isn’t going to kill her. Or smell her hair in her sleep. Or something equally as horrifying. The first person to answer her ad in the newspaper had been a small, mousy girl that wore cat ears and cried when Karen asked about it. The second person had been a man a few years her junior who reeked of weed and waggled his eyebrows when he asked if they’d be sharing the room and the rent. The next blunty told her he was only interested in the room as a rendezvous point for his mistress.

And so on.

Karen likes to think she’s not picky. She’s honestly, truly not picky. She’d been living with Foggy for three years before he and Marcie got engaged, prompting them to get a place together uptown. Foggy had been a good roommate—never late on rent, easy to spend time with, non combative about sharing a bathroom and chores. He also never took out the trash and was a serial dish-breaker. But everyone has their quirks, and she’s prepared for some level of weird. Just not as weird as the people she’s met with today.

So when the sixth person knocks on her door, Karen is less than optimistic. According to their brief phone call earlier in the day, his name is Frank Castle. He’s an ex-Marine, fresh out of service in need of a place in the city. He’d been polite and cursory on the phone, giving nothing else away–so when she opens the door to a handsome man with a clean shaven face and a charming smile, she’s a little shocked. And when he takes off his jacket during the tour to reveal thick, corded arms and a shirt drawn tight across his chest, she very nearly gives him the room on eye candy potential alone.

Common sense overrules her–if she really does give Frank the room, it would be a living nightmare to hook up with him. What if they sleep together and then have a falling out? She would still have to see him every day. She’ll have to vet him just like everyone else and make a decision fairly. Part of her hopes that he has a pet tarantula or something. Any reason to turn him down.

Unfortunately, the universe doesn’t work that way.

“I’m clean,” he tells her as he casts an eye over the vacant room. She watches the back of his head, enraptured by the low timbre of his voice. “And I’m quiet–I do play guitar sometimes. If that’s alright.”

Because of course the stupidly hot, charming man asking to live with her plays guitar. Of course.

“Do you work?” she asks him, leaning on the doorframe as he opens the closet door to look inside.

“Uh huh. I work construction. Sometimes I work odd jobs on the weekends.” He flashes her a quick smile. “And I promise to keep the parties down to a minimum.”

She offers him the room.

–

Two months after Frank moves in, they’ve settled into a rhythm. Admittedly, not the kind of rhythm that Karen thinks about when she’s alone at night and with him just across the hall but–

–yeah, they have a rhythm.

After a brief period of awkwardness and some time spent learning each other’s little quirks, Karen finds that she really enjoys Frank’s company. He’s funny in a very subtle, deadpan kind of way. He’s respectful of her space and privacy, and just like he said before–he’s quiet. Most nights find them at separate ends of the couch, Karen typing up an article for the paper she works at while he reads or strums his guitar. Sometimes he’ll cook them both dinner, pulling some old family italian recipe out of nowhere, table set by the time she gets home. She’s pleased to find he’s as clean as he claimed, and that sharing a bathroom isn’t as terrible as it could be. It seems neither of them have a very active social life, which suits her (and her growing crush) just fine.

Four months in, Karen decides that Frank is trying to kill her. She knows that he is a disciplined man; he starts every day the same way. He wakes up long before her. She knows this because the coffee pot is always nearly done brewing by the time she drags herself out of bed around 6am. In fact by the time she’s done pouring them both a cup–his black, hers with cream–his keys jingle in the door like clockwork. Frank spends every morning, seven days a week, running five miles before the sun even decides it’s going to rise. And then he walks in like it’s nothing, and Karen sits in her bathrobe and makes small talk and pretends not to notice the sweat glistening on his skin.

It really sinks in that Frank’s trying to kill her on a humid June morning. Even in the apartment with the AC circulating she feels the wetness of the air, and she lounges at the kitchen island with her coffee and watches the door. Frank’s keys sound a moment later, and then he walks in and nearly has her falling out of her chair.

Of course she’s seen him shirtless once or twice, but it’s always a brief flash between the bathroom and his bedroom door after a shower. It still leaves her wholly unprepared for the sight of Frank Castle’s chiseled abs, sculpted chest and thick, sinewy arms at half past six in the morning. She’s suddenly very awake.

“Mornin’,” Frank tells her easily, picking up his mug with a quick nod of thanks. He heads down the hall towards the bathroom and Karen takes a sip of her coffee, heart thundering in her chest. The image of him half naked, sweating for a whole different reason, fills her head. She thinks about him balanced above her, moisture beading on his forehead as he bruises her hips with his own. She thinks of what would happen if she made his heart race without even leaving the apartment–and if she even could.

The shower turns on and Karen groans, snapping out of her daydreams. She’s fucked.

–

She suffers through this newest form of torture in silent agony. Day after day, morning after morning, she considers staying in her bed until the shower switches on. And then day after day she pulls herself out of bed, far too eager for someone who can’t afford to have this big a crush on someone she’ll be splitting rent with indefinitely.

It’s seventeen shirtless morning later–not that she’s counting–when she finally cracks.

Frank strolls in before she can even take her first sip of coffee. As soon as she sees him, a flush rises on her cheeks. He’s got a nice, even tan over his skin that seems to glow under the lights of her kitchen. His hair is a little shaggier than normal, which means it’s about time for a trim. It gives him a softer look. There’s a sheen of sweat on him that she’s not embarrassed to say she finds ridiculously hot. When he directs one warm, wide, post-exercise smile at her she feels her insides turn to mush.

“Mornin’, Karen,” he greets, picking up his mug.

“Good morning.” By some small miracle, she only sounds a little strained.

Regardless, Frank raises a brow at her, leaning against the counter. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She searches for a safe topic, one that will steer him away from looking at her like that when she knows she must be flushed red. All she can come up with is: “Do you even own a shirt?”

Frank blinks once. And then once more, for good measure. He glances down and then back up at her with a sudden clarity. The slow, shit-eatening grin that spreads across his face makes her palms sweat.

“Am I makin’ you uncomfortable?” he asks with a lilt in his voice that tells her he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Not at all,” Karen mumbles, watching through lowered lashes as he makes his way around the kitchen island. “Just…you know. Um. It’s not really fair.”

“Yeah? What’s not?”

Frank’s close now. He smells of sweat and sunshine, and he should smell gross so why she’s suddenly getting poetic about it gives her pause. Enough of a pause for him to huff out a laugh.

Karen’s eyes lower unwittingly to the sharp jut of his jaw and the slopes of his collarbone. She traces it down, over nipples pebbled in the cool apartment air, past the uneven ridges of his abs, and then back up into his amused gaze. She panics. “I can’t walk around without a shirt,” she tries, grappling at something–anything–other than it’s not fair because I want to see you take your shirt off after you take off mine. And then I want it to stay off, and I want to–

“You could take your shirt off.”

Karen gapes at him. “What?”

“I wouldn’t be complainin’.” Frank fixes her with a wide eyed look that she thinks is supposed to mimic innocence.

This is it. This is how I die. Frank Castle is the world hottest roommate and we shouldn’t be flirting. But we definitely are. I think. And he’s–he’s–

–he’s walking away.

“I’ll put a shirt on after my shower,” he tells her, tossing her a grin over his shoulder. The bathroom door closes softly.

—

Now…now he’s just doing it on purpose.

One day Karen sits on the couch and types an article. At soft footsteps she glances up only to meet the wide plane of Frank’s bare chest as he casually traverses the carpet towards the kitchen.

Or another day, late afternoon on a Sunday, she walks into the apartment and he’s doing shirtless push ups in the middle of the living room.

Or another day she comes home from work and he’s cooking dinner in gray sweatpants and her apron—the one that says “whisk it real good” that she got for her birthday from Foggy last year–is far too small on him. Karen stares as her face flames, knowing how the next time she wears it she’ll only think of him.

And then the day that she snaps:

Karen comes home late. It’s nearly eight o clock by the time she manages to get her key in the lock, and she can think of nothing but bed, wine and food. And not particularly in that order.

“Frank,” she calls. “I’m home.”

There’s a scuffle from his room, and then the closing of a door before he appears in the hall. He has a guilty look on his face that almost distracts her from his shirtlessness. Almost.

“What?”

“i got somethin’ to show ya.” He pauses. “Don’t be mad.”

Karen sets her bag down, eyeing him with trepidation. “O…kay…”

With a gesture, Frank leads her back to his bedroom. She’s only been inside it once or twice–she knows it’s sparsely decorated, neatly kept, and the bed is always made. In any other instance she’d be excited that he’s bringing her into his space. Now, with the tautness of his shoulders and stiff, awkward smile–she’s just nervous. He puts a hand on the doorknob and then pauses, looking back at her.

“It’s nothing bad,” he starts, and then opens the door before she can reply.

A large ball of fur comes barrelling towards her and careens into her legs. Karen yelps, stumbling forward into the room. Her hip bumps his dresser but she doesn’t pay it any heed.

“Frank–”

“Aw, come on, Kare–” Frank leans down to scoop the excitable, yipping puppy into his arms. It’s young with that blueish grey sheen of a pitbull and wide blue eyes. It wiggles in his arms in an attempt to escape, snout sniffing in her direction.

Karen crosses her arms, trying and failing miserably to be upset with this new development. She certainly doesn’t have time to take care of a puppy, but if Frank wants to she knows she’ll be unable to say no. He takes in her failing stern expression as he wrestles with the writhing mass of fur in his arms.

“She’s just a puppy,” he says in a rush. “I found her out behind the buildin’. She was diggin’ through trash, Karen. I figured I would bring her in and get her cleaned up and then if you don’t want her in the apartment then I’d–…”

He doesn’t finish, trailing off. It’s obvious he didn’t have a plan for her rejecting the dog. Frank peers at her over the puppy’s head, and the image is too much for her to handle. The puppy, the imploring stare he is directing at her, his half-naked state, being in his room with his masculine, earthy smell in the air–Karen huffs and smiles in defeat. “What’s her name?”

Frank’s eyes widen, and then his grin nearly knocks her over. He steps closer and hoists the puppy up, holding her so that Karen can pet her. The dog nearly falls out of his arms with excitement when Karen starts to stroke her soft fur. Karen laughs. Frank watches her, smile gentling.

“I liked Blue.” He meets her gaze with a touch of shyness. “Unless you can think of somethin’ better.”

He’s standing close enough that she can feel the heat of him on her skin. At this distance, she sees the five o'clock shadow across his face. He smells of laundry and cologne and a little bit of wet dog, but that doesn’t stop her from stepping close. “I like Blue. We can keep her.”

His expression perks up, and then quickly shifts to cautious hope. He ducks his head slightly, hiding a smile. “We?”

Something tells her that if she were to inch closer, lean close and brush her lips over his, he wouldn’t mind. That instinct is right because before she can muster up the courage, Frank beats her to it. His kiss is brief and chaste. He pulls away to gauge her reaction but Karen pulls him back impatiently, slotting her mouth over his in a kiss that he reciprocates gladly. It would almost be perfect except for–

“Blue,” Karen sighs, pulling away as the dog clambors out of Frank’s arms into her own. The puppy whines excitedly, licking at Karen’s cheek until she laughs and pulls away. “Okay, okay. You’re lucky you’re cute–I’ve been waiting on that forever.”

Frank chuckles, reaching over to scratch under Blue’s chin. When Karen meets his gaze, it’s warm and pleased. She feels it all the way to her toes.

“She’s not sleeping in the bed with us,” she tells him, fighting a smile.

Frank’s eyebrows raise. He huffs. “Try tellin’ her that.”

But she wont–she’ll let the dog sleep in the bed every night as long as Frank’s there too.

#frank-kastle #kastle #kastle fic #mine #kastle ff #my writing

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my-lady-knight · 5 years

Text

On Facebook I made my usual National Coming Out Day post. I like to do it as a reminder to people who know, an FYI to people who don’t, and to provide updates if anything relevant has changed in the interim.

The main change this year, which was very recent (as in, I only made this decision two days ago while I was talking with my therapist), is to switch from using ace-spectrum as my sexual orientation word to gray-asexual (or gray-ace).

I didn’t expand upon why I was making the change on FB, but I feel like doing it here - possibly to brag and feel proud about how I figured some shit out, but considering I’m about to get personal, it’s also because some of the things I realized that led to this decision are pretty important to me and hopefully maybe could be helpful for someone(s) else. Cliche as this next bit is, if one person reads this and is like “I relate to some or all of what you wrote”, it will have been worth it to write and post it.

When I was 21, I’d spent three years IDing as ace and heteroromantic, after spending all of middle school and high school not IDing as anything because nothing fit and generally feeling like a freak for not feeling like I was straight or gay or bi or basically anything. That year, I became sexually attracted to someone for the first time in my life, and I freaked the fuck out. Both because it was happening at all, and because it was a guy I was attracted to. I’d spent enough time in online queer spaces already to know that, as a heteroromantic ace, I was barely considered queer to begin with, that there was no meaningful difference between me and a straight person because I wasn’t same-gender attracted and because I didn’t experience homophobia. Now here I was, attracted to guy, and I felt like I’d been faking having a queer identity this entire time, that I really was a straight person all along (never mind that, then and now, when I try to mentally see myself as straight I mentally cannot do it, it makes me feel vile and like I’m hurting myself). I’ve been battling this shame for years, that most of the times I’ve been sexually interested in a person or a fictional character, they’ve been male. Even after I came out as trans and stopped thinking of myself as female, I continued to feel shame, because I am and am still routinely read as, an AFAB individual, so it didn’t feel like it counted when it came to whether I was “straight” or not.

Then there was the fact that I was feeling sexual attraction at all. I hadn’t realized it, but part of me was relieved during the time I felt like I was firmly ace that I wasn’t interested in having sex, because it meant I didn’t have to deal with all the complicated personal/interpersonal/societal crap and reckoning that comes along with being a sexual person in a Puritan-originated country - if I wasn’t going to have sex or engage in a sexual relationship, why bother? And then I became sexually attracted to this guy, and I wanted to have a sexual relationship with him, and suddenly I had to deal with all the toxic shit I’d arrogantly ignored because I assumed it’d never be applicable to me - namely the (horror!) reality of seeing myself as a sexual person and that not being a bad thing. That, as a female person then, as an agender person now, it wasn’t and isn’t a bad thing that I’m a sexual person, in whatever way that’s true for me.

I ended up experiencing shame on two fronts - the shame of feeling like I was a fake/pretending queer, and the shame of being a sexual person in a world that tells people, particularly women/women-adjacent/used-to-be-women-and-still-have-some-history-with-that-identity people, that being a sexual person is intrinsically wrong. These two things, combined with how the story ended up playing out with me and this person (and additional shame on my part of how that story played out), saw me a year or two later with a Gordian knot of issues surrounding my sexuality and relationship to sex that I could not untangle on my own and have been living with for years. I’ve only just started making progress at starting to untangle it (thanks, therapy!)

As all this was going down, I stopped using “asexual” as my label and adopted “ace-spectrum”. At the time I wanted to emphasize that I was somewhere on a spectrum and it wasn’t clear where I was, but that I was on it. But I also wanted to emphasize the “ace” part, first and foremost. That I was still an ace person of some kind, even if it wasn’t as clear-cut as before. That I was still “more queer than not”, and that ace-ness was an important lens through which I had and continued to filter and process and understand the world and people around me and myself.

Recently the label has been growing uncomfortable and I’ve been sensing its limitations for me. I’ve been struggling with feeling like I have to justify the times when I’m a sexual person (in whatever way that means to me) with the times I’m not (such as how I go about my life 98% of the time never seeing or interacting with anyone through a sexual lens and not feeling the inclination to). I’ve been left feeling like I’m alternating between “allosexual” and “asexual”, and like there’s something wrong with me - that I’m “less queer” - the times I’m “allosexual” - also again, because the people/characters involved are men.

And this week, I came to the decision that I’m done trying to justify myself to myself and feel shame about who I am and what I experience, whether because of ideology, politics, or the reality of what does or doesn’t go on in my brain and/or my pants.

I’m switching to IDing as gray-asexual because the term, now, encompasses mixture that is my experience of ace-ness and allo-ness - not a one or the other thing, or a half-on-half-off thing, but something where the two inform and intersect and coalesce together into the final form that is my sexuality. By identifying as gray-ace, it feels like I’m not longer fighting or hiding or justifying the parts of myself I’ve been fighting, hiding, and justifying for years out of shame and fear of censure.

So yeah. That’s why.

#my life #personal #ace matters #queer matters #I feel like I should make some quip to offset the seriousness of this post #but I'm all out #ah well here's a thing

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teratoscope · 5 years

Note

Something that can cause many different mutations or curses or etc. in organisms it comes into contact with.

Engine ObscureOn your first day downwell, you sawa beetle turned on its back for the first time. You panicked at the flailing ofits legs, the hair on it you didn’t expect, and the sudden revelation of thesoft, vulnerable, complicated underbelly, all those parts you couldn’t name ordivine the function of. So you crushed it under your boot, which made you feelsicker. The sound it made, and the red-brown viscera, so muchmore of it than you expected. The longer you look, the closer you get, the worseit is and the deeper it invites you.It’s not your first day downwellanymore. You’ve seen a lot worse.Today, however, is the beetle allover again. The thing at the top of the pillar moves like it can’t decide if it’sa liquid or a ball of rutting snakes or the clacking limbs of a dying insect. Thetexture of its surface flows, solidifying in scabby islands of pitted verdigrisor whorls of bone; here a face resolves out of the chaos and mumblesmushmouthed prophecy.You can’t tell where it stops. Itputs out fractal feelers, and when you try to follow them they just lead youall over the room and under your skin. You feel a flex, hyphae in the skin ofreality twitching in unison, and when the spasm ends something has changed. Youfeel off-kilter, but you struggle to parse why. Instead you bring your rifle tobear—not bothering to use the scope, the last thing you need is a closer look—andyou notice it’s in your lefthand. And when your pace quickens, youfeel it on the right side of your chest.

HD 10 MV 60’ hover AC 12 AT liquid migraine tendril x2 (30’ reach, 2d6 psychic) Special corruptive referent, psi-pollutant, weirdwave

Corruptive referent—anyone speaking directly about anEngine Obscure while it is physically present has their language scrambled.Their words are unintelligible except to Occulters and other people whoselanguage has been scrambled. The effect ends with a proper night’s sleep.

Psi-pollutant—sleep is impossible within the sameoverland hex as an active Engine Obscure, and any effect that causes damage toInt, Cha, or Wis deals an additional point within this area of effect.

Weirdwave—an Engine Obscure releases aWeirdwave once every exploration turn and each time it takes 8 or more damagefrom a single source. The Weirdwave effects everything that has had line ofsight on it within the last exploration turn, forcing a Wis check. On a failure,roll once on the table below. After 2d3 days, the sufferer makes a Con check;on a failure, the effect is permanent.

Weirdwave Contamination

1. Counter-alphabeticvector. Victim’s touch causes writing (regardless of medium) to warp intoillegible, tumorous glyphs. Causes 2d12 psychic damage to robots and othercoding-dependent entities. Ruins computers; networks have to be quarantined onexposure or risk a pandemic.

2. Inscrutableorgan. Victim has a thing growing outof them. It migrates. Attempting to describe the thing causes headaches, nosebleeds, and an altered state ofconsciousness resembling a mild concussion in the case of intense scrutiny. Itposes no other significant inconvenience.

3. Shadowglands. Victim’s presence lowers default level of illumination by one step‑brightlight becomes dim light, dim light becomes darkness, and in darkness lightsources exhaust twice as fast.

4. Eyepox. Victim’s head blooms with unblinking supernumerary eyes. Cannot wearhelmets unless custom-made. Surprise rolls against the victim are always atdisadvantage.

5. 4-Ddislocation. One of the victim’s arms (determine randomly) bends at an anglethat does not exist in 3-dimensional space. With an exploration turn offinagling the victim can poke a hand back into visible space at a fixed pointup to 20’ away. This can reach into enclosed spaces, though the victim has tonavigate by touch alone if not assisted.

6. Illuminatedgaze. Victim’s eyes glow candle-bright while conscious, providing natural lidar(treat as darkvision). Perception in this mode is purely topological; thevictim cannot read text unless it is raised or inscribed on a surface, and theycannot sense color.

7. Confessorpolyp. Tumorous growth the size of a prize yam ending in a complete mouth,windpipe, and larynx picks an inconvenient place to grow on the victim. Duringany long rest, the confessor polyp strains to process its host’s toxic languagebuildup. The victim must choose to either voice the single thing they’ve mostavoided saying and/or least wanted other people to hear or take 1 point ofConstitution damage.

8. Eideticdrift. No-one remembers the victim’s name correctly. Some feature of it remainsfixed across all variations, but no matter how many times they correct people,it’s not going to stick. The first time they meet someone, there is a 1 in 3chance they have false memories of having already met them—the victim must makea Charisma check to determine whether those false memories are favorable.

9. Nemesispsycho-symbiote. The victim perceives a small homunculus-like creatureaccompanying them in their reflection. The homunculus has intimate knowledge ofthe victim’s inner thoughts, encyclopedic familiarity with most practicalskills, and a strong desire to pursue strange and often destructive projects inmaterial reality. Once per day, the victim may spend an exploration turnconferring with the homunculus over a single specific problem that warrants apractical solution. Afterwards, they spend the day acting as though they receivedtraining in the skills necessary to resolve the problem proportionate to theirlevel. This effect ends after a long rest; during the long rest, the symbiote commandeersthe victim’s body. It may use all the victim’s abilities, as well as everyskill set the victim has ever used the symbiote to act like they had.

10. Ghost skin. Victim’s skin and fleshturn glutinous and murkily transparent, shedding and secreting layers like ahagfish. A strange inner glow seeps from within, dimly illuminating the victim’sbones and organs. They leave an obvious trail wherever they go. The victim may pushthemselves very slowly through solid matter as though they were incorporeal‑about10’ per exploration turn.

The EnginesObscure are the lynchpin of Occulter warfare. Every major Occulter beachheadfeatures an Engine Obscure positioned for optimal visibility, pumping out psychicchaff and maximizing exposure to its perceptual sporulation. To optimizeexposure, Occulter forces do a lot of levelling and clear-cutting around theirstrongholds—you know you’re in their territory when the terrain turns toblasted wasteland, all subtly inclining towards the spire in the distance whosetip spits squirming rainbow light into the upper atmosphere.

So long asthe Engines Obscure persist, the Occulter defensive line is borderlineimpossible to break from the ground. No extended campaign can be waged insidetheir territory from the ground, if only for fear of everyone involved comingcompletely unhinged. There’s a faction of Highguard young guns and diehard IronSaints who lobby hard in the war room for an extended space-to-ground siege,but for now the majority of Freestar One’s executive war council is wary ofescalating to aggressive bombardment strategies, especially against an enemy asbadly documented as the Occulters.

And badlydocumented they will likely remain, because the Engine Obscure resists study.When neutralized, they tend to collapse into wheezing point masses, leavingbehind only a greasy, ozone-smelling haze. They don’t show up well inrecordings, either; storage media containing images or video of an EngineObscure tend to deliquesce, spontaneously combust, or decay into piles of grayfluff. Research & Development still isn’t sure whether there are definitemechanical or biological underpinnings to their structure and operation,whether they’re autonomous or remote-operated, or even just how they’re made.

What is obvious is that they neatly encapsulatethe Occulter philosophy of engagement: they subvert before they destroy, assaultingself-concept, memory, and language but hardly ever killing outright. Out of allthe weapons of the Contact War, the Engine Obscure is perhaps the one made mostdeliberately to spare enemy lives.Arguably, from the Occulter perspective they may not even be weapons at all—itmay be more accurate to compare them to terraforming devices, albeit ones meantto alter the noosphere as much as the ecosphere.

FreestarOne xenologists remain deeply concerned about what this may say about theOcculters’ long-term priorities. Precisely what they want us alive for is woefully uncertain, but whateverit is, it’s almost certainly not agreeable to our quality of life.

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rebelsofshield · 5 years

Text

Panels Far, Far Away: A Week in Star Wars Comics 6/19/19

The rebels may be warriors for justice and galactic revolution, but that can’t always be the case, right? Three different Star Wars comics from Marvel explore the gray areas of galactic war this week.

Star Wars #67 written by Kieron Gillen and art by Angel Unzueta

After nearly thirty issues and four years of story, Kieron Gillen’s wild run on Star Wars comes to a close with the climactic finale to “The Scourging of Sho-Torun.”

With Queen Trios dead and the partisans having turned Leia’s tactical strike into a potential worldwide cataclysm, our band of heroes desperately attempts to escape with their lives and prevent disaster.

Gillen and artist Angel Unzueta aim for fun and excitement here and the results undeniably deliver. After a run that at times tread rather close to being somber and tragic, it is a bit jarring to see Star Wars make a marked turn towards the lighter and playful here at the end of its latest incarnation, but the creative team here operates at such a fast story telling clip that it’s hard not to get caught up in it all. Whether its TIE fighter chases through the depths of Sho-Torun or surprising acts of heroism by unexpected characters, Gillen keeps the creative twists and turns flying.

The result does end up feeling a tad anticlimactic and thematically confused though. While Gillen does write some great interactions between him and Han, Benthic Two Tubes and his partisans end up being the largest problem here. When their involvement in Leia’s strike on Sho-Torun predictably turned into a mission of vengeance, Benthic became an entertaining wild card to an already complex story. Unfortunately though, Gillen pivots maybe too hard to making Benthic’s revenge responsible for the mission’s hiccups and takes away from the intriguing character study of Leia that this arc originally seemed set upon. Leia does get to put the pieces back together of her mission, but any message that was trying to be said about her flirtations with darkness feels lost in the midst of all the chasing and escaping.

Angel Unzueta’s potential final issue of Star Wars proves to be one of his strongest. Although his detailed and expressive faces at times still feels a little uncanny or separate from their bodies, this action heavy issue feels dynamic and energetic. The explosive collapse of Sho-Torun feels suitably apocalyptic and scenes of the Falcon diving through molten magma and collapsing super structures are a visual treat.

At the end of it all, it will be sad to see this creative team go even if “The Scourging of Sho-Torun” proved to not be the strongest story they would produce. Gillen in particular proved to be one of the most influential and inventive voices in the new canon and its hard to undersell how important some of the creative choices he made on Darth Vader and Doctor Aphra have shaped not only the Marvel line but the franchise as a whole. I would be happy to see him back someday.

Score: B

Star Wars Doctor Aphra #33 written by Simon Spurrier and art by Wilton Santos, Caspar Wijngaard, and Andrea Broccardo

Conceptually, “Unspeakable Rebel Superweapon” is shaping up to be one of the strongest story arcs that Simon Spurrier has envisioned for this series to date. It’s premise blends elements of Rogue One, Indiana Jones, and Killing Eve style spy thrillers into a strange and colorful character piece that feels up the series’ alley and fits Spurriers particular sense for the weird side of the galaxy.

Turns out that magic Jedi gun that Aphra snatched last issue is more than just a valuable artifact. It may contain the design blue prints to an off the books rebel superweapon that may be useful in assassinating Emperor Palpatine. Also turns out that stealing this artifact combined with her recent actions on Milvayne landed her on the Empire’s most wanted list. Also turns out that Aphra’s ex-Imperial lover, whom she brain washed with a telepathic squid, is now a member of one of the rebellion’s most ruthless espionage units. Combine that all with some thematic throughlines about morality and motherhood, we are on track for another rich arc of Doctor Aphra.

Throwing Aphra into a sect of the rebellion that not only makes use of the archaeological plot points of her career but also stretches traditional ethics is a great move by Spurrier. While the flashback sequences with Aphra and her mother may lay it on a bit thick, making Aphra (and the reader) enter into a morally sticky faction of normally heroic characters is fruitful playing ground for writer and character. If past arcs of Spurrier’s run were about reinforcing Aphra’s chaotic and dangerous character, maybe the future of her story is finding out how that character may still be used to do some good.

Making Tolvan a prickly rebel spy is also a great twist and it’s nice to see her evolve as a character outside of being the object of love and misfortune for Aphra’s latest schemes.

Unfortunately, “Unspeakable Rebel Supreweapon” is still struggling visually. Wilton Santos, Caspar Wijngaard, and Andrea Broccardo all take on pencil duties here with Chris O’Halloran and Stephane Paitreau doing colors. That’s a lot of hands in the visual pot and the result is rather underwhelming. Of the three main pencilers, Wijngaard is again the most successful. While there is little apparent editorial logic to who draws what, Wijngaard handles most of the flashbacks and expository panels and these are often the most striking and fun images of the book. Whether it’s Jedi Apostate Oo’ob striding a starfighter and shouldering his experimental weapon or Tolvan and her team of spies letting loose on a group of hapless Imperials, Wijngaard’s moments in the spotlight are stellar. Santos struggles however. In particular, his decidedly sparse and underdetailed environments, which are done no favors by the coloring, lack the diverse and lived in aesthetic that one would expect from Star Wars or even past arcs of this title. It’s disappointing as the script for this story is so strong that its underwhelming visuals become all the more of a letdown.

Score: B

Star Wars TIE Fighter #3 written by Jody Houser and art by Roge Antonio and Geraldo Borges

Last week saw the release of Del Rey’s latest Star Wars novel, Alexander Freed’s Alphabet Squadron, which harkens back to the military procedurals of the 90’s X-Wing series. I’m only about 100 pages into the book, but so far Freed has managed to bring to life rebel aces in a way that hasn’t been felt in sometime with characters that are exciting but also heartbreakingly human. Jody Houser has a much shorter and very different mandate with TIE Fighter, but so far the book and comic are managing to be fitting pairs.

Perhaps Houser’s biggest success so far is making us naturally root for “the bad guys.” It may help that that the forces Shadow Wing are fighting are mostly other Imperials, but this makes one of the few pieces of current canon with Imperial leads that doesn’t actively feature defectors among its protagonists. Shadow Wing are loyal to the Empire, but Houser so far has done a decent job of setting up these five pilots as relatable “everymen.” They aren’t necessarily blameless individuals, but they are understandable as people and it makes them engaging protagonists all the same.

This third issue of TIE Fighter explodes the central conflict and as a result Houser and artist Roge Antonio really get to let loose with well-crafted dogfight set pieces. Antonio captures the chaos of starfighters chasing each other through space with the appropriate intensity, but also thankfully, never loses sight of the central cast. Action scenes are clear, intense, and exciting.

That being said, there are some emotional beats here that TIE Fighter fails to fully sell. Whether it is the suddenness that they happen or that Houser hasn’t yet earned the emotion for these moments, there are beats that should sting or surprise but instead slip by quickly and passively. Maybe TIE Fighter would have benefited with just a bit more downtime for its cast before throwing them into this chaos? Who knows, but it’s hard not to leave this issue without feeling kind of hollow.

Score: B-

#Star Wars #Star Wars comics #review #reviews #Marvel #TIE Fighter #Doctor Aphra #Kieron Gillen #Angel Unzueta #Simon Spurrier #Wilton Santos #Caspar Wijngaard #Andrea Broccardo #Jody Houser #Roge Antonio #Geraldo Borges

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acehotel · 6 years

Text

A Conversation with TURN Gallery Artist Mason Saltarrelli

TURN Gallery’s Mason Saltarrelli is an abstract artist, illustrator and painter born and bred in the city of New Orleans. His work is imbued by the improvisation of jazz, abstract animal silhouettes and color, the last being what Mason calls a “co-author” in his work. Mason will be Ace Hotel New York’s gallery artist for November and has a series of curtain paintings hanging in the lobby of Ace Hotel New Orleans. Here he chats with artist and friend, Joseph Hart of Deep Color, about to-do lists, Black Jaw the alligator and how abstraction can be a “beginning of seeing.”

Joseph Hart: Bridging in and out of painting and jazz music is the notion of improvisation. Can you talk a little bit about how improvising and intuition act as creative tools in here while you're working? When I say “in here,” we're sitting in your studio.

Mason Saltarrelli: I seldom arrive with a plan. More, I have a cast of characters. I'll call on one of the characters to come into the scene, but I don't know what their lines are and I’m not sure what costume they are wearing. Often the plan or story is only fully clear to me after the work is done. A work’s construction is realized through calling on a player and seeing where it wants to go in order to explore. Chance of shape and colors’ influence assist in determining the voyage.

JH: I see a figure here that almost looks like a doll. The image of an alligator pops up quite a bit. Is there anything else in your memory bank that you pull from?

MS: Yes. There’s a dog and a hairdo.

JH: What's the hairdo?

MS: It's a way of making a portrait without being literal. That's where there is a crossover with jazz and my work. In traditional jazz, there is a melody for each song and then the band members improvise solos. My characters offer me the function of melody and adjusting their forms and colors is my solo allowing me to create.

When a musician plays “Sweet Lorraine” or “Tiger Rag,” they know which melody to play. But when it’s time for the solo, they are free to forge a new idea based off of a set construct. The improvisation is where the real fun comes in.

JH: Yeah, that's where the surprise happens during those solos perhaps. When do surprises happen in your studio? When you collide these characters together, or put down a color or a gesture in relation to them and something happens that you didn't expect —what type of surprises happen?

MS: Color definitely plays a big role in surprises. The paper and canvas piece that will be in the show at the Ace New York has gone through many adjustments. By changing the green from blue next to the gray, it starts to push and pull and layers begin to appear. Structures move to the surface and in turn other colors recede based on placement. This creates layers within the piece. Color is a co-author in my work. The importance of the parts that make up the whole of the figures is greatly determined by coloring.

JH: You get a little depth in there. One thing that I've always observed about your work is an extraordinary flatness in how you're applying the paint and you're getting a nice graphic shape often that's opaque. Some of your paint is washed out, but at the same time with some of the tinted canvases and overlapping you really achieve a sense of depth.

MS: Depth is important to me. Each layer, whether it's a work on wood, paper or canvas, is like writing a sentence and those sentences stack on top of one another. Eventually as the sentences build up they create a paragraph. The paintings are paragraphs that are building up to relay a story.

JH: Another consistency in your work as I've known it over the years is a love for drawing. There's a lot of drawing in your painting. I know you have a history with works on paper and making drawings on hand tinted paper. Can you talk about how drawing is important in your studio practice and in your art making?

MS: I often paint through drawing. It’s a method of placing ideas. The ideas then pose questions. Without trying to fully render a figure and utilizing the idea of what something is I define what it becomes.

JH: The stakes are often lower with drawing too. I mean it's historically a preliminary action. I know you don't do sketches for these, but when we think of drawing, we think of small sketches. We think of a preparatory drawing for something larger. When your drawing is part of how you move your arm through the canvas and with a brush with paint on it, I think we carry that low pressure, emotional, psychological space with us. For me, I'll argue that it makes painting more fun, more interesting, more engaging.

MS: Yeah, I do try and keep things fun and then I start working and then I start taking it very seriously. Problem solving becomes important. Using drawing to open things up to see where they can go poses many questions with an infinite number of answers. If I start creating a form that is part of the alligator, for instance, the back of the head, and then all of I sudden decide, okay, it's time to switch into a hairdo or a doll or a dog, I have initiated a story that should be resolved if I want to share it.

Things just open up through drawing, there's no forced intention.

JH: As an exercise, I like to ask myself, if my paintings were to make a to do list, what would be on it. So I want to pose the question to you. If these paintings were to make a to-do list for the viewer, for yourself, what are a few things that would be on that list?

MS: The three paintings that hang in the Ace Hotel in New Orleans for Doc Cheatham, Lionel Ferbos and Percy Humphrey are on hemp. They're curtain paintings in that they're not stretched, but hang freely. The to-do list for the New Orleans paintings was to reflect both personal and musical aspects of each of the three traditional jazz trumpet players through abstraction.

My show at Ace New York this November will include two pieces. In the New York hemp painting, my goal was to successfully combine separate aspects of how I depicted Doc, Lionel and Percy. My intention was simple, revisit three paintings two years later in one new piece.

In the other work, my goal was to fuse my paper and canvas practices and see if I could get them to function uniformly. This piece includes canvas that has gone through a similar patina process as my paper. For this work the to-do list was basically to get the canvas and paper to have a cohesive conversation, to get them to enhance each other simultaneously.

JH: Yeah, it's working. It's a nice little installation. It reminds me of a gift. Maybe this was the wrap for the painting on top of it unfolded. There are all sorts of surprises in there.

MS: I think that paper could actually fold over and hide it.

JH: Yeah, the aspect ratio. It looks like you could wrap it right up. Let's talk about audience. When we're in our studios, there's an audience of one unless you have a friend or visitor over. But when the work leaves the studio, then there's an audience. I'm curious if you feel differently about your work when it's in front of an audience? Is your relationship to it here in your studio different than when these paintings are going to be in the Ace Hotel?

MS: I definitely consider audience. At the same time I don't have control over how they're going to perceive my work. Especially when viewing abstraction, people put their own life experiences into what they see.

JH: Yeah, that's their job.

MS: It is. Deborah Buck, an artist, came over the other day and pointed out that in the smaller canvas piece she sees a person hugging another person. I keep seeing it now because I never noticed that and I've never visualized that idea in my work before. She said it looks like a male figure protecting a child.

To me it's a doll inside of a woman's hairdo. That's one of the amazing things about abstraction, it's not over when the last mark is made. When somebody else starts looking at it it's just beginning for them, and sometimes can actually be a beginning of seeing for me.

JH: Yeah, it's great. I think the audience, when it's in a public space, like you said, brings their own experience and finds their own meaning. It's nice to hear when a viewer shares that meaning with the artist. When you describe Deborah coming in and seeing something that you didn't see, that's a new layer for you and compounds whatever you had going for it on your own. I think that's a great thing. It's a dialogue. That's the dialogue you're looking for with a viewer.

MS: Right. It becomes a type of gift in a way if you allow it to be. When you let someone else take the reins and tell you what you’ve done, and you get to hear their vision. It's nice. It's a way of sharing, it's very personal.

JH: I want to talk a little bit more about the alligator motif that pops up a lot in your work. At first glance when I came in here, looking at this long horizontal painting that's going to be here in New York, I saw architecture, I saw landscape, I saw a street scene, I saw buildings. But then I quickly shed that as soon as I recognized the contours of this alligator head. Am I seeing the same thing?

MS: Yes.

JH: Is this the profile of one of your alligators?

MS: This time it’s the profile of multiple alligators, possibly the same particular one in different incarnations.

JH: It's abstracted, it's not overt, but that sort of elongated alligator. I know you’ve talked about alligators being outside of New Orleans in the swamps. It seems like an important character from your image bank. I imagine it's a fun shape to draw too.

MS: Yeah, that's part of the reason why I use it over and over. It can be a way of loosening up. I remember when I saw a specific alligator in Honey Island Swamp in Louisiana. Its name is Black Jaw. It’s obviously in the present but also you see and feel another time. Certain areas of New Orleans are the same way. It touches on looking and experiencing a different era, a different life, but within this one.

In this particular painting, I started layering alligators and maybe it became not just Black Jaw. Or if it is Black Jaw, it's him being reincarnated a few times and going through a few different swamps rather than just Honey Island.

JH: Right. It's abbreviated too. I mean I think your forms are rounded off and simplified in a way typically. It's not like a rendered alligator head, it's an elongated rectangle with a bulbous end. Then the tell, the show, is usually the teeth, which are triangles throughout.

You're using these geometric shapes to describe this head often. Again, it's going back to the flatness, you're painting in a flat way.

MS: Yes. By simplifying the forms I’m giving color more influence in the work.

JH: The alligator is a starting point, as a form, as a shape, as an idea and you just unfold it from there. It turns into a few other things, sort of holds on to its identity as an alligator. I love that. Is this an alligator too? This one is a front view maybe.

MS: That's a doll with a hairdo above a profiled alligator whose teeth have left its mouth and even become a little hat. The paper behind it is space. There’s a foot behind the canvas drawn on the paper. It’s a hidden self-portrait.

JH: Do you remember the last piece of culture that you experienced? Maybe it was a book you read or a film you saw or an artwork or a piece of music that shook your bones?

MS: Definitely. This past August I was in residency at the Macedonia Institute in upstate New York. That’s where I painted the hemp painting for the Ace New York show. During that time I read Chief of Chiefs: Robert Nathaniel Lee and the Mardi Gras Indians of New Orleans, 1915-2001 by Al Kennedy. Chief Robbe was the first and only person to be named "chief of chiefs" by the Mardi Gras Indian Council. I would read and then paint. I enjoyed the book so much I read it in small increments so it would take longer to finish.

MS: I remember being a kid and seeing Mardi Gras Indians for the first time. I was in the car with my dad. We were leaving the St. Charles Mardi Gras parades driving back through neighborhoods to get home, and then all of a sudden we saw Mardi Gras Indians masking. They resembled human fireworks. It was amazing. Reading Al’s book was inspiring because it’s such a wonderful story of being called to an art form and how tough yet rewarding it is to be dedicated to a practice that you love. Chief Robbe’s story reminded me of how fortunate I am to have grown up in New Orleans and experienced such a unique culture.

#mason salterrelli #joseph hart #abstract art #interview #ace hotel new york #turn gallery #yes #ace new york #new york

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