#not even in the sense that people are very rigid about adhering to what happens in it because its so inconsistant

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Idk why but i was thinking about the broader acotar fandom's attituide towards "crack ships" and how different it is compared to some other fandoms ive been in because most of the time what a lot of people call crack ships would be considered rare pairs or just. normal ships. Like, ive seen people call gwynriel a crack ship when gwyn is clearly deliberately set up to be part of a love triangle with elain and azriel which is to say, theres a real possibility of it becoming canon and imho thats not a fucking crackship, thats just a normal ass ship. Crack ships arent just non-canon or unpopular ships, theyre usually like shitpost ships that are funny because of how absurd they are and that most people dont earnestly ship. Thats why in ye olden days a lot of crackships were crossover ships from with characters from two very different pieces of media, like fuckin charlie bucket x aang from avatar or batman x sportacus from lazy town or whatever, it doesnt really matter as long as its weird and easy to make fun of conceptually

[just-a-fragment]

It's jung heewon's birthday and gosh her character arc still hits hard even after finishing the novel for almost a year now.

She was a "nameless background character" and when she was introduced it's implied she was a victim of one of the most cruel crimes someone can commit to another person(and yet its something that happens to most women).

In this scene, KDJ's commentary states that its a "cliche" or not an unexpected development that happens to "nameless" characters whenever a story has societal collapse. So it's very refreshing that not only did she turn out to be such an important character, but when she gained one of the more powerful attack skills, she was able to enact her vengeance and carry this righteous catharsis throughout the novel. But it doesn't stop there!

The skill actually contains a caveat. She wasn't the one who decided which "evil" is deserving of being killed. She has to constantly answer to a system that has to unanimously "vote" if the skill should be used or not. So while she's extremely powerful, there were times where she wasn't able to defend herself just because the system of good decided that her enemy wasn't worthy of punishment.

Except who are these constellations to decide if someone was worthy or not, especially when, aside from delighting in these spectacles, they weren't the ones affected by such grievances. She has seen how the so-called "good" abandoned her and her companions in vital times, that's why it was so satisfying when she finally gained full autonomy to enact her own judgement. She saw that the system doesn't actually adhere to morality but to an audience, to authorities who never cared for their own well-being in the first place. The best part about this arc is not just how her skill evolved from adhering to a shaky yet rigid parameter to the intrinsic desire to protect the ones you love but how it doesn't abhor the way she handled her trauma! It was never implied that the rage she felt was cruel/any less.

Her story arc is such a kind fate that most authors rarely consider for characters who suffered the same as her. It's established early on that aside from being one of the most powerful characters, she's also funny! she's very caring to the kids, she mentors jihye, she's very loyal to kimcom. She has one of the more consistent moral codes in the novel, she's justice personified. It's what makes her character arc so satisfying, her trauma never retracted any of this, because that's always been who she is.

Her character arc could've just been dissecting her trauma around men, but it's also how it's incredibly hard to maintain your sense of justice/sense of self under an oppressive system. How even the most capable people are held back.

She's not reduced to some brooding/tsundere combat side character, who not only overly relies on the male mc but experiences more trauma to further male mc / other male character developments, which unfortunately happens to characters that have the same fate as her.

Like she's incredibly loyal to dokja but she questions his decisions, she doesn't praise him as a god that goes through with all of his plans just because he saved her, Because she doesn't owe him anything and both of them know this! By the end of the novel she was the one who felt remorse, but her loyalty is still there.

Same thing can be said with Hyunsung who was consistently willing to be a tool for her catharsis, for her righteous anger, and this might be a controversial opinion, but I actually kinda liked that they broke up! In the brief/rare times we get their perspective, yeah we can see that they actually do care/love each other, we can't deny that their love story was born from the apocalypse. It was never confirmed but I wouldn't ignore the possibility that to some constellations, their relationship was a spectacle, people were supporting them, or egging them on(I mean we even see how HSY placed a bet on them)

It's a very refreshing or even realistic take to these kinds of storylines, yes Hyunsung helped her when she was broken, yes he helped her with her trauma, yes they loved each other. But the implication that Heewon, someone who was introduced as a person whose agency was taken from her, being able to decide that her "knight-in-shining armor" isn't her endgame, and being able to acknowledge that it isn't the right time, but the love existed, the love was still there(which is one of orv's main themes). Like that's such a powerful and important message!

I also like how the side stories addresses the argument on whether or not she deserves the backstory she got like!!! SS already proved that she was written with so much care, so much interiority, so much agency, so much love. I wish I could write more(even though this post is already long lol) but I haven't read the side stories.

So yeah HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNG HEEWON WOMAN OF ALL TIME.

[dumpster-fire-deluxe]

Why Palpatine is autistic (headcanon)

Listen if I was diagnosed as autistic in 15 minutes without diagnostic assessment and by answering "eh, kind of" to 2/10 questions, then this man should be diagnosed ten times over

You can only disagree with me once you've read the whole thing <3

Part 1: DSM-5 official diagnostic criteria

Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions.

This criterium can include a lack of affective/emotional empathy. Also, when is Palpatine interested in the emotions of others beyond how it serves him?

Yes, he does seem socially adept. But this is something you can learn, literally. He's had a lot of training in how politicians act, how to convince people, etc. It's all an act. It's just a more severe form of masking.

And let's not forget: how much easier is social interaction when you can sense the other person's thoughts and feelings through the Force? No need to read their body language at all. You can feel what's going on and what they want to hear

Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.

Masking!! There are many moments with Palpatine where I'm like "ah, that there is very much a conscious expression, deliberately pulling those precise facial muscles, rather than something naturally happening". Same with a lot of moments of intonation.

Also, how often do you see him talk with his hands? When talking, his arms are usually rigidly at his side (or in T-Rex position).

Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.

This is specifically about equal peer relationships. Yes, Palpatine knows how to do official/business relations. You can learn that in political school or by copying others. There are rules & tactics & etiquette/protocols. But close, personal relationships?

You often see autistics in relationships with power differences, like master-apprentice/dom-sub relationships (in either role). That's a lot easier to navigate than equal peer relationships, which are a lot muddier.

Also, "absence of interest in peers". When have we seen him yearning for close personal relationships?

Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech (e.g., simple motor stereotypes, lining up toys or flipping objects, echolalia, idiosyncratic phrases).

Palpatine does have some frequent finger tapping going on and he "worm walks" (swaying with either legs or upper body, unless focusing on walking straight and/or looking at the ground, like in the third image).

Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat same food every day).

I don't think he has this one.

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

This is the big one. What neurotypical person would be able to spend every waking moment working on one singular interest (Sith Grand Plan/Dark Side), forsaking social relationships and such? Even passionate allistics wouldn't be so entirely consumed by one thing for years on end.

Palpatine also collects objects related to that interest (the Sith artifacts/artworks).

Once he's emperor he doesn't show himself much anymore but instead spends all day alone studying his special interest.

Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement).

First of all, the depression robes from the original trilogy. That's all.

Second, I think in the Star Wars universe "sensory aspects of the environment" could apply to the Force too, in line with hyper-empathy & hypersensitivity. And guess who was born super sensitive to the Force?

Third, no neurotypical person has that kind of interior design. I'm talking about all the red. My guess is chronic under-stimulation, thus needing to be surrounded by a bright color.

Part 2: Miscellaneous/Non-diagnostic autistic traits

Gender non-conformity (always wears dresses and gives off such princess energy)

He often has T-Rex arms and when he doesn't, his arms are stiff by his side (stiff posture in general). When relaxed, the T-Rex comes out.

His father thought he was different from birth, something about Palpatine didn't appear "normal" to him

Autism & pattern recognition + seeing the inner mechanics of systems. This includes social/societal structures. Add in years of analyzing humans and their behavior/psychology. It makes it possible to see relations, predict actions, etc., either on an individual scale or a larger one.

In the same vein, good at analyzing (situations & people)

His father was said to be cruel and violent (in this house the Darth Plagueis novel is still canon, fight me). Autism + childhood trauma can turn quite intense, to put it mildly. In this case: no empathy + no attachment to other humans + learning to read people and situations very well to stay safe + tendency to rigid thinking/intense preoccupation + seeing everyone as an enemy + special interest that involves hurting others, combined with running into a Sith Lord during his formative years? Yeah, all the pieces are there.

Anyway, this headcanon is locked into my brain now and I simply can't unsee it anymore.

[richreviews99]

American Psycho: A love-letter to toxic masculinity

Patrick Bateman. A vain, egotistical Wall Street yuppie.

Hobbies include listening to Huey Lewis and the News, dining at trendy restaurants, snorting countless grams of cocaine, and most notably, murdering homeless men and prostitutes.

Superficially, “American Psycho” is a shallow slasher film. So much of the content comes off as gratuitously violent when not properly examined. However, once we delve deeper and analyze the sub-textual themes in Bateman’s character, we realize he is an extreme metaphor for feminist concepts like fragile masculinity and the toxic male ego.  

The film criticizes New York city’s yuppie masculinity embodied by Bateman and his friends. The plot suggests that the rigid gender and social roles they adhere to ultimately lead to anxiety and madness (fragile masculinity). In a world where you’re not allowed to be yourself, true identities hide away and turn perverse from neglect. At least, that’s what happens to Patrick Bateman. As the film progresses, we watch his mask slip away, revealing the blood thirsty killer beneath.

In the movie’s opening scene, Bateman and his colleagues sit around a table in an ultra-chic, ultra-expensive restaurant called Pallette. A member of his entourage comments, “God, I hate this place. It’s a chick’s restaurant. Why aren’t we at Dorsia?” The other man says, “Because Bateman won’t give the maitre d’ head.” 

This introduces the viewer to the way Bateman’s circle thinks. They are rich, entitled, status-driven men who care more about appearances than anything else.

In Bateman’s world, masculinity is limited to one particular style with clearly defined rules. There is very little wiggle room for self expression. The film reaffirms this concept by making most of the male characters non-distinguishable. Bateman often finds himself mistaken for other investment bankers and never corrects those who mistake his identity.

As the film progresses, we come to realize that that for him, this is an advantage. His lack of perceived individuality makes it easy to hide his crimes in plain sight, especially as his murder rampages become more frequent and more gruesome.

The assertion these yuppies subliminally remind each other is that there is only one right way to be a man if you want to be in their club. In the end, everyone knows of each other, but no one truly knows each other. 

In the film, anyone who deviates from these standards and shows a measure of otherness, such as Bateman’s gay colleague, Luis Carruthers, finds themselves at the bottom end of the pecking order. Although Carruthers pretends to be straight, everyone can sense he doesn’t belong in their circle and treats him accordingly.

In another instance, when Bateman encounters a homeless man on the street, Bateman kills him for being “such a loser”. This is his first on-screen kill, signifying his complete disgust and disregard for anyone who is not like him.  

In contrast, his second kill is his competition, Paul Allen. Bateman is jealous of Allen because Allen is richer than him, more successful than him, and he can get a table at any fashionable restaurant in town. Allen also consistently insults Bateman publically and has a superiority complex.

Since Bateman has such a fragile ego, he resolves to kill Allen to a) assert his social standing, and b) get even with Allen for daring to compete with him. His unhinged reaction to Allen and the homeless man both signify Patrick’s toxic male ego. 

While the homeless man’s murder represents Bateman’s disgust for those who don’t fit his standards, Allen’s murder represents his competitiveness with those who do.

Everything Patrick does in this film stems from his complete hatred for the weak, his obsessive perfectionism, and his social circle’s obsession with greed, power, drugs and women. All of this has its roots in toxic expressions of masculinity.

American Psycho’s genius is its commentary on a time of excess. A time when people like Bateman could use their privilege to hide their evil in plain sight. It’s a commentary on a world that bred a man like Donald Trump, so in many ways, this message resonates more with our generation than the film’s original audience.

American Psycho asks us to look beyond the surface. What we find may not be pretty, but at least it’s real.

[thestarshaventchanged]

okay we’ve all seen The Ring™️ at this point and I have some THOUGHTS I need to share. hear me out, WHAT IF:

when Izzy was young, before he started working for (and hadn’t even met) Ed yet, he was a pirate in a matelotage with another pirate. they were in love and “soft” for each other (much like how Ed and Stede are with each other). this somehow led to Izzy’s partner being killed (for homophobic/patriarchal reasons, men can’t be affectionate with each other, etc). fast forward to when the show takes place-> this is why he feels the need to be excessively masculine/aggressive now, as well as force that onto Ed with the Blackbeard persona. Izzy has experienced what happens when he (and the people he cares about) appear “weak” (behave in a way not traditionally masculine). this is also what makes him so angry about Stede & Co. They are able to be their true selves, let their guards down, and challenge the very rigid masculine ideals that Izzy has been forced to adhere to, with seemingly no consequences.

-backtracking a bit to how Izzy meets Ed-

I think either a) after his partner is killed, Izzy goes on a revenge bender, being reckless and violent because he feels he has nothing left to live for, and this leads to him meeting Ed. at this point, Ed is a pirate but it’s early in his “reign of terror” and he hasn’t really made a name for himself as Blackbeard yet. Izzy sword fights Ed, because right now Ed is just another no-name pirate for him to take out his pain on. Ed beats him in the sword fight (barely) and *should* kill Izzy, but instead spares his life because he wants him on the crew he’s putting together. Ed’s impressed by his fighting abilities (and he also sees something in Izzy, feels his anger and pain, and Ed’s a softie like that). this act of mercy causes Izzy to revaluate whether or not he *truly* wants to die, and ultimately he joins Ed’s crew, and thus feels a sense of gratitude and commitment to Ed because of this. OR b) when Izzy’s partner is killed, he is meant to be next, but Ed saves him somehow (they don’t know each other at this point) and Izzy starts working for Ed out of this life debt he feels he owes Ed (as well as maybe gratitude/admiration/hero worship, there’s a lot going on there). this would also mean Ed is there immediately in the aftermath of this horrific, traumatic thing that happened to Izzy, and this determines a lot of things about the nature of their relationship with each other and how it develops. Ed has seen Izzy at his lowest, and has been there for him through that (in whatever way that means for them), and I think that’s where Izzy’s attraction/obsession of Blackbeard would stem from. he would view Ed Blackbeard as this unyielding, masculine person who was able to save him when his “weakness” almost got him killed (hence the pedestal Izzy puts him on).

[janecrockeyre]

scum villain is a greek tragedy disguised as a regular tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a danmei

this is going to be long, and this is only PART ONE.

a.k.a, Analysing the plot of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System through Aristotle’s Poetics, because I Have Mental Issues

Part One: Introduction and the Tragic Hero

Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, unless you’re Shen Yuan, in which case it’s a mixture of a romance and a survival horror. It's a fever dream. It's a horrible, terrible book that made me feel new undiscovered emotions when I finished reading it. 

The thing is... SVSSS shares characteristics with some of the most famous tragedies in the West, such as Oedipus Rex, Medea, Antigone, the Oresteia... if you haven’t read these, I’ll explain everything. But the gist of my argument is this: SVSSS is the perfect tragedy. In triplicate. 

Tragedy as a genre is old as balls and so it has meant slightly different things to different people over the last few thousand years. I'll be focusing on ancient Greek tragedy, which was performed at the yearly Festival of Dionysus in Athens during the 500-350s BC (give or take a hundred years). Aristotle, when writing about this very specific subset of tragedy, had no idea that one day Scum Villain would be written, and then that I would be using his work as a way to look at Shen Qingqiu’s Funky Transmigration Mistake. Anyway!

Greek tragedy greatly influenced European dramatic tradition. I have a lot of opinions about white academics idolising and upholding the classics as the "paragon of culture" but I'll withhold them for now. I have no idea if MXTX has read Greek tragedy or not, so don't take this as me saying they are writing it. 

In my opinion, tragedy is a universal human constant. We are surrounded by pain and hurt and none of it makes any sense, so we seek to process that pain through drama, art, literature, etc. We want to understand why pain happens, and how it happens, and try to make sense of the senseless. The universe is cold and cruel and random. Tragedy eases some of that pain. 

On that note: Just because I am analysing Scum Villain through a Greek lens doesn't mean that it was written that way. I'm pasting an interpretation onto the book when there's probably a very rich and deep history of Chinese tragedy that I just don't know about. If you ever want to talk about that, please, god, hit me up, I would love to learn about it!! 

Anyway, tragedy. MXTX is excellent at it! Mo Dao Zu Shi? Painful dynastic family tragedy. Heaven Official's Blessing? Mostly romance, but she managed to get that pure pain in there, huh? 

But in my opinion, Scum Villain holds the crown for the most tragic of her stories. MDZS was more of a mystery. TGCF was more of a romance. Neither of them shy away from their tragic elements. 

Scum Villain would fit right in between the work of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus. How? Let me show you. Join me on my mystery tour into the world of "Aristotle Analyses Danmei..."

Part One: The Tragic Hero

What is a tragic hero? Generally, Greek tragic heroes are united by the same key characteristics. He must be imperfect, having a "fatal flaw" of some kind. He must have something to lose. And he must go from fortune to misfortune thanks to that fatal flaw. 

There are two (technically three) tragic protagonists in SVSSS and all of them are tragic in different but formulaic ways. Each protagonist has their own version of “hamartia” or a “fatal flaw”. 

Actually, hamartia isn’t necessarily a flaw - rather, it is a thing which makes the audience pity and fear for them, a careful imperfection, a point of weakness in the character’s morality or reasoning that allows for bad things to happen to them. For example, in Oedipus Rex, the king Oedipus has a “fatal flaw” of always wanting to find the truth, but this isn’t exactly a flaw, right? Note: this flaw can be completely unwitting, as we see with Shen Yuan. It can also be something that the protagonist is born with, some kind of trait from birth or very young. 

Shen Yuan

Shen Yuan’s “hamartia” is his rigid adherence to fate and his inability to read a situation as anything but how he thinks it ought to be. He believes that Bingmei will grow into Bingge, and it takes several years, two deaths, and some truly traumatising sex to convince him otherwise. 

Shen Jiu

Shen Jiu’s fatal flaw is his cruelty. It is his own sadistic treatment and abuse of Binghe which directly leads to his eventual dismemberment. This is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, it isn't all that simple, and as an audience we pity him for his cruelty as much as we fear it because we know it comes from his own abuse as a child. This just makes him even more tragic. Delicious. 

Luo Binghe

Luo Binghe’s fatal flaw is a complicated mix of things. It is his position as the “protagonist” which compels him to act in certain ways and be forced to suffer. It is his half-demonic heritage, something entirely out of his control, which sets in motion his tragic reversal of fortune when he gets yeeted into the Abyss. He also, much like Shen Yuan, has the propensity to jump to conclusions and somehow make 2 + 2 = 5. 

As well as having their respective “flaws”, all three protagonists match the rough outline of a good tragic hero in another way: they are in a position of great wealth and power. Even when you split the different characters into different “versions”, this still holds true. Yes, Luo Binghe is raised a commoner by a washerwoman foster mother, but his dad is an emperor and he also ends up becoming an emperor himself. 

Yes, Shen Jiu is an ex-slave and a victim of abuse himself, but Shen Qingqiu is a powerful peak lord with an entire mountain’s worth of resources at his back. 

Shen Yuan is a second generation new money rich kid. 

Bingge is a stereotypical protagonist with a golden finger. Bingmei is a treasured and loved disciple with a good reputation and a privileged seat by his shizun’s side. 

In a tragedy, having this kind of good fortune at the beginning of your story is dangerous. Chaucer says that tragedy is (badly translated into modern english) “a certain story / of him that stood in great prosperity / and falls out of high degree / into misery, and ends up wretchedly”. If we follow this line of thinking, a good tragedy is about someone who has a lot to lose, losing everything because of one fatal point of weakness that they fail to address or understand. 

If we look at Shakespeare, this is what makes King Lear such a fantastic tragic protagonist. He is a king in control of most of England, who from his own lack of wisdom and excess of pride, decides to split his kingdom apart to give to his daughters, favouring his murderous, double crossing progeny, and condemning his only actually filial daughter to death. He loses his kingdom, his mind, and his beloved daughter, all because of his own stupidity.

This brings us to:

Part Two: Peripeteia

This reversal of fortunes is called peripeteia. It is the moment where the entire plot shifts, and the hero’s fortunes go from good to bad. Think of it like one of those magic eye puzzles, where you stare at the image until a 3D shark appears, except you realise the shark was always there, you just couldn't ever see it, waiting for you, hungry, deadly, always lurking just behind that delightful pattern of random blue squiggles. 

Each tragic hero has their own moment of peripeteia in SVSSS, sometimes several:

Shen Qingqiu

In the original PIDW, SQQ’s peripeteia presumably occurs when he finds out that Bingge didn’t perish in the Abyss but has actually been training hard to come and pay him back. There’s really not much I’m interested in saying here - as a villain, OG!SQQ is cut and dry, and the audience doesn’t really feel any pity or fear for him. As Shen Yuan often mentions, what the audience feels when they see OG!SQQ is bloodlust and sick satisfaction. There is also the trial at Huan Hua Palace, which I will talk about in Shen Yuan’s section. 

Shen Yuan (SQQ 2.0)

One of SY’s most poggers moment of peripeteia is the glorious, terrifying section between hearing Binghe for the first time after the Abyss moment, and getting shoved into the Water Prison. 

“Behind him, a low and soft voice came: “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu’s neck felt stiff as he slowly turned his head. Luo Binghe’s face was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The scariest thing about it was that the expression on his face was not cold at all. His smile wasn’t sharp like a knife. Rather, it showed a kind of bone-deep gentleness and amiability.”

This is the moment of true horror for Shen Yuan, because he knows what happens next: the plot unfurls before him, inevitable and painful, and he knows that death awaits him at Luo Binghe's hands (lol). Compare it with the bone deep certainty with which he faces his own downfall during the sham of a trial later in the chapter (I’ve bolded the important part):

“In the original work, Qiu Haitang’s appearance signified only one thing: Shen Qingqiu’s complete fall from grace. [...] Shen Qingqiu’s heart streamed with tears. Great Master… I know you’re doing this for my own good, but I’ll actually suffer if she speaks her words clearly. This truly is the saying “not frightened of doing a shameful deed, just afraid the ghost (consequences) will come knocking”!”

After the peripeteia is usually the denouement where the plot wraps up and the threads are all tied together leaving no loose ends, but because this tragedy isn’t Shen Yuan’s but the former Shen Jiu’s, it’s impossible to finish. 

Shen Yuan cannot provide the meaningful answers that the narrative demands because 1) he doesn’t have any memory of doing anything, and 2) he wasn’t the person who did them. Narratively, he cannot follow the same path as the former SQQ because he lacks the same fatal flaw: cruelty. 

This is why Binghe doesn’t kill him - because he loves him, rather than despises him. And this is why Shen Yuan has to sacrifice himself and die for Luo Binghe in order to save him from Xin Mo: because the narrative demands that denouement follows peripeteia, and SQQ’s fate is in the hands of the narrative. 

(Side note: I believe that this literal death also represents the death of OG!SQQ's tragic arc. The body that committed all those crimes must die to satisfy the narrative. SQQ must die, like burning down a forest, so that new growth can sprout from the ashes. After this, Shen Yuan's story has more room to develop instead.)

It must happen to show Bingmei that SQQ loves him too. And this brings us to Bingmei.

Bingmei

Bingmei has two succinct moments of utter downfall. The first is a literal fall - his flaw, his demonic heritage, leads his beloved shizun to throw him down into the Abyss. From his point of view, SQQ is punishing him simply for the status of his birth. He rapidly goes from being loved and cherished unconditionally, to being the victim of an assassination attempt. 

He realises that he is totally unlovable: that for the crimes of his species that he never had a hand in, he must pay the price as well: that his shizun is so righteous that no matter what love there was between them, if SQQ sees a demon, he will kill it. Even if that demon is Bingmei. 

The second moment is when SQQ dies for him. Again, from his point of view, he was chasing after a man who was struggling to see him as a human being. Shen Qingqiu’s death makes Bingmei realise that he has been completely misunderstanding his shizun: that SQQ would literally die for him, the ultimate act of self sacrifice from love: that SQQ loved him despite his demon heritage. 

Much like King Lear holding the corpse of his daughter and wailing in sheer grief and pain because he did this, he caused this, Bingmei gets to hold his shizun's cold body and cry his eyes out and know that it was his fault. (Kind of.)

(Yes, I’m bringing Shakespeare into this, no I am not justifying myself)

Maybe I'm a bit sadistic, but that scene slaps. Let me show you a comparison of scenes so you get the picture. 

Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so

That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

Why, then she lives.

[...]

 KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

Look there, look there!

Dies

Versus this scene in SVSSS: 

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to everything else, greatly agitated and at a loss of what to do. He was still holding Shen Qingqiu’s body, which was rapidly cooling down. It seemed like he wanted to call for him loudly and forcefully shake him awake, yet he didn’t dare to, as if he was afraid of being scolded. He said slowly, “Shizun?”

[...]

Luo Binghe involuntarily held Shen Qingqiu closer.

He said in a small voice, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really… know that I was wrong.

“I… I didn’t want to kill you…”

PAIN. SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL PAIN. Yes, I know Shakespeare isn’t Athenian, but he was inspired by the good old stuff and he also knew how to write a perfect tragedy on his own terms. Anyway. I’ll find more Greek examples later.

This post was a bit all over the place, but I hope it has been fun to read. Part Two will be coming At Some Point, Who Knows When. This is a bit messy and unedited, but hey, I’m not getting paid or graded, so you can eat any typos or errors. Unless you’re here to talk to me about Chinese tragedy, in which case, please pull up a seat, let me get you a drink, make yourself at home.

ps: if you want to retweet this, here is the promo tweet!

[swanlake1998]

Article: The Unbearable Whiteness of Ballet

Date: April 22, 2021

By: Chloe Angyal

In an exclusive excerpt from her new book Turning Pointe, contributing editor Chloe Angyal lays out the ways that white supremacy is embedded in ballet's most basic foundations.

Wilmara Manuel and her 11-year-old daughter, Sasha, were at the world finals of a ballet competition, the Youth America Grand Prix, in 2015 when it happened. Shortly before the competition began, the young dancers were on the performance stage with their parents, warming up and preparing to dance the solos they’d been rehearsing for months.

As Wilmara, who is Black and originally from Haiti, and Sasha, who is biracial, stood there, a young white dancer looked around the stage, checking out the competition. “And her eyes land on Sasha,” Wilmara remembers, “and I saw her look [Sasha] up and down, and then look at her mom.

“And her mom said, ‘Don’t worry. They’re never really good anyway.’ ”

Wilmara did her best to contain her shock. Sasha didn’t hear what the white mom had said, and Wilmara wasn’t about to tell her, because “that’s not the thing I want to discuss 10 minutes before she takes the stage.” But Sasha could sense that something was amiss. “Just the look on my face, she was like, ‘What? What happened? What did she say?’ ” Wilmara brushed her daughter off.

Don’t worry. They’re never really good anyway. An entire worldview of white resentment of Black progress and excellence passed quietly from mother to child in just seven words.

That white mother could not fathom that Sasha, a biracial child with a Black mother, might be really good—as in very good, or truly good—at a traditionally white art form at which her child was presumably also quite proficient. She could not imagine that Sasha might deserve to be at that competition, might have qualified on her merit—her talent and skill and persistence—rather than because of what she might consider a misguided or even unjust attempt to diversify ballet by lowering standards. They’re not really good, but they are allowed to be here. In this space that is rightfully yours, in this art form that is rightfully yours. They’re never as good as the white girls, a sweeping generalization that grants no individuality, no humanity, to any nonwhite dancer. They’re all the same, and they never deserve to be here. But don’t worry. Your excellence is a given. You belong here, while their presence is conditional or even ill-gotten.

A few minutes later, Sasha took the stage and performed her solo. She ended up placing ahead of that white dancer.

From then on, Wilmara traveled with Sasha to every competition, paying the additional travel costs to make sure that, if something like that ever happened again, she’d be there to support her daughter.

“That has stuck with me,” she says. “And it’s one of the reasons I make the sacrifice and I go with her everywhere. Even if there are others going, I feel like I need to be around should comments like that pop up. I just don’t feel like I can take that chance, you know? And what cracks me up is that . . . she doesn’t even look as dark as I do, which makes me feel like, ‘Oh my God, if you were darker, like, what else?’ ”

Sasha grew up in a suburb of Indianapolis and is now 16. She trains at the Royal Ballet School in London, an exclusive training ground that serves as a feeder school for the Royal Ballet. It’s widely acknowledged to be one of the best ballet schools in the world.

Wilmara says that people often express their surprise at the quality of Sasha’s training and technique. “Oh wow, you’re really good,” Wilmara says by way of example. “Where do you train? Have you been dancing for a long time?” She says that while she tries to give these white people the benefit of the doubt, she knows what they usually mean, and she’d prefer they just come out and say it: “I’m surprised you’re that good. You’re Black and you’re dancing and you’re good.”

Now that Sasha is a little older, Wilmara talks to her about the racist assumptions embedded in those surprised comments. “You know she’s asking because she doesn’t think a person of your color can do this,” she’s told Sasha, who now “gets it when she hears that tone of voice.”

And, she says, she’s been frank with her daughter about the kind of resistance she should expect from the overwhelmingly white ballet establishment if she keeps excelling—which she shows every sign of doing.

It’s moms who do the bulk of the work of ballet parenting: the sewing of costumes, the schedule keeping for rehearsals and recitals. And when you’re a ballet mom to a dancer of color, there’s an even higher price to pay.

“Not everybody’s gonna be thrilled,” Wilmara says, paraphrasing her conversations with Sasha. “Even if you’re not a dancer of color, it’s cutthroat. And on top of that, you are a dancer of color, and so that poses another threat in some ways. So you have to be mindful of your things and what you are doing, and know what things are okay, and [pay attention to] when you are uncomfortable.”

This emotional labor, the work of helping young dancers understand what “that tone of voice” means and why it’s being used—or the work of deciding whether to tell your child about the racist remark you just overheard or absorb it yourself and shield them from it—is a part of parenting not demanded of mothers of white dancers.

Then there’s the payment in time and money required of Wilmara to make sure that Sasha’s ballet experience is as fair and worry-free as possible. Once, at a competition, Wilmara forgot to color in the “nude” pale pink straps on one of Sasha’s competition costumes. Wilmara scrambled to find brown foundation because none of the vendors at the competition had a leotard in Sasha’s skin color.

“Come on, people, you are here,” Wilmara remembers thinking. “There may not be that many [dancers of color], but they are all here and you should be able to bring various shades of nude leos.”

Succeeding in ballet, or even just surviving, requires extra talent, extra work, extra resilience, and extra sacrifices from dancers of color, especially Black and brown dancers, and their parents. White ballet moms might have to talk to their white daughters about how cutthroat ballet is. But they don’t need to issue additional warnings about how a white girl’s success will be received by that cutthroat culture, because almost all the successful girls and women in ballet are white.

“They’ve had to grow up a lot faster,” Wilmara says of Black and brown ballet dancers. “I think the ballet world makes you grow up a lot faster, but on top of that,” there are the “extra hurdles that other dancers don’t have to think about.” There are the overtly racist comments backstage before a performance and the subtly racist “compliments” after. There is time spent frantically searching for the right leotard or adapting the default pink leotard. There is the knowledge, internalized first by parents and then by their kids, that if you make it over all those hurdles your success will be viewed with suspicion and resentment—that ballet does not have a “diversity” problem; it has a white supremacy problem.

“Our kids,” Wilmara says, “are thinking about this and thinking about it early on.”

The organizing principle of ballet—of training, of performance, of making a ballet body—is control. Control of your rigid torso while your foot shoots upward from the hip in a battement. Control of a silent and compliant class of otherwise giggly 9-year-old girls. “The traditional and classical Europeanist aesthetic for the dancing body is dominated and ruled by the erect spine,” wrote dance scholar Brenda Dixon Gottschild in her landmark book The Black Dancing Body. “Verticality is a prime value, with the torso held erect, knees straight, body in vertical alignment. . . . The torso is held still.”

It all demands control. Control of your smiling face as your feet scream in your pointe shoes at the end of a long pas de deux. Control of your weight, of your turnout, of your stretched and strengthened feet that now arch into a shape no ordinary foot can make. “The ballet audience, attuned and habituated to view control as a prime value, applaud its display and are embarrassed when it isn’t fulfilled,” Gottschild wrote.

Discipline, order, adherence to strict and unquestioned rules. That’s what ballet is. When Gottschild asked Seán Curran, a white dancer and choreographer who performed with the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company, what he pictured when he thought of white dance or white dancing bodies, he said, “Upright. . . . For some reason, ‘proper’ stuck in the head a bit, something that is built and made and constructed rather than is free or flows.” A body that is rigid, obedient, and disciplined, remade from something natural and unruly into something refined and well behaved. Proper. “Whiteness,” Curran said, “values precision and unison.”

Curran’s assessment identifies a central underlying prejudice of white supremacy: the belief that people of color, and their bodies, are wild. Uncivilized, animalistic, subhuman. That white people—who, by contrast, are assumed to be organized and civilized—have both a right and a responsibility to tame that which is untamed and impose order, precision, and unison on it. To suppress and control that which is savage; to press it into something that approaches whiteness but will never be truly white and thus never truly equal.

This is the logic that underpinned white colonization and American slavery. It is also the logic that makes racial segregation possible: that which is pure and organized must be kept separate from that which is profane and undisciplined. And central to this worldview is the idea that the work of white supremacy is unending, not because white supremacy is flawed, but because the very people it seeks to suppress are inherently inferior, naturally incapable of complying. Because of some inborn lack—of will, of understanding, of discipline—people of color will never fully obey, never properly assimilate, never be redeemed by whiteness. In this way, white supremacy perpetuates itself, justifying both its worldview and the permanent need for its existence.

It’s little wonder, then, that ballet—with its fixation on control, discipline, and uprightness—wraps itself so neatly around whiteness. It makes sense that white Americans, reared on the belief that whiteness is synonymous with order and refinement, also believe that people of color have no place, or a limited place, or a conditional place, in classical ballet.

Furthermore, it is easy to see how the ideal ballet body—so controlled, so upright—is everything that white supremacy imagines a Black body is not. And because of deeply ingrained American cultural associations with musculature, loose movement, brute force, and untamed sexuality, the Black body is believed to be everything a ballet body is not permitted to be.

“When we talk about the ballerina,” says Theresa Ruth Howard, a former dancer and a teacher, diversity strategist, and the founder and curator of the digital ballet history archive Memoirs of Blacks in Ballet (MoBBallet), “we’re talking about the ideal, our stereotype of the desirable woman, and that is reserved for white women.”

Howard has made a career of helping the people who run ballet companies and schools to examine their ideas about what makes for a “good” ballet body, asking them to question their biases about the inherent fitness of white bodies and unfitness of other bodies, especially Black bodies. She says that long-standing racist tropes about Black women’s bodies make Blackness and ballerinas seem antithetical.

“You have the trope of either the jezebel, the mammy, or the workhorse of the Black woman,” which are incompatible with desirability, fragility, and sexual purity, the ideal of white womanhood at the heart of the ballerina’s appeal.

“She’s desired. It’s the epitome of beauty, of grace, of elegance, and these are not adjectives that are assigned to Black women,” Howard says. “Especially not darker-skinned Black women. This is why the closer you look to the white European aesthetic as a Black woman, the better chance you have at occupying that role. Especially at a higher level.”

Despite the long tradition of Latin American dancers carving out successful professional careers in the U.S. and the enormous success of Misty Copeland—a light-skinned Black dancer whose ascent to the pinnacle of American ballet was a watershed moment for Black dancers and audiences alike—the archetypal ballerina is still a pale-skinned white woman with slender limbs, negligible breasts and hips, and long, sleek hair. In the American cultural imagination, the ballerina is still white.

George Balanchine famously said that “ballet is woman,” but that’s not the whole truth. Ballet is white woman, or, perhaps more precisely, white womanhood. Ballet is a stronghold of white womanhood, a place where whiteness is the default and white femininity reigns supreme.

Excerpted from Turning Pointe: How a New Generation of Dancers Is Saving Ballet from Itself by Chloe Angyal. Copyright © 2021. Available from Bold Type Books, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

[bleachhaven]

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 2/6

Here is the highly requested Part 2!! I know I said it was going to be a 2-part series but it turns out I have a lot to say about Shunsui getting the romancing he deserves...so it’ll be a bit longer than expected.

I’m always excited to hear your feedback!

Read Part 1 first!

Dear Shunsui,

It’s been a while since I last saw your face, and I find myself missing you.

I confess, thoughts of you have me distracted. I keep looking for you no matter where I am, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you.

—

She found herself staring at the parchment for a while, contemplating the dilemma she was truly in. She was in the process of writing another letter to him. Another one that he might not even read let alone take seriously. It had her sighing at the hopelessness of the whole situation.

In the end, a letter or two snuck into the Soutaicho’s office would be as close as she would get to romancing him. He was the most powerful man in the Gotei 13. She, a lowly third seat, had no hopes of catching his attention let alone his love. To him, she might as well be a newborn shinigami who had no clue about anything.

What hope did she really have? None, that’s what.

But to her...he was more than just the Soutaicho. So much more.

It brightened up her day to see him in that ridiculously pink kimono. He was probably the most handsomest man she had ever seen. While most men look almost too pretty, Shunsui was so manly. The hair smattering that chest, peaking through his uniform did terrible things to her. The way those grey eyes would look at someone...not that she’d been truly privileged to have them on her in her time as a shinigami. Maybe a passing glance at best. Direct eye contact might have had her bursting into flames on the spot! The eye patch didn’t make him seem any less. In fact it seemed to add just a bit of a dangerous aura to him that only worked to make him seem even more attractive to her.

He was always kind to everyone, always teasing, always smiling that lazy smile of his. She had been sad to notice that he smiled less and less nowadays.

She had been slowly falling for him while he was still in the Eighth. Even then, he was way out of her league but now they might as well be from two different planets. Their statuses in life felt that far apart.

Her being hopelessly and endlessly in love with Kyouraku Shunsui was the reason why she hadn’t been able to date anyone in over a decade. Not that she minded. Any man she knew couldn’t hold a candle to what he made her feel.

She didn’t begin writing these love letters for the Soutaicho because she had any hope of him reading them and reciprocating her feelings. She maybe naive and romantic, but she wasn’t stupid enough to have such foolish hopes. She knew there was no chance of him finding out who she was. She wouldn’t get in any trouble. So it just felt like a safe way to brighten up his day and give an outlet for her pent up feelings. But then one letter became two. Then two letters became a weekly thing that she looked forward to — sharing her thoughts with him even if he had no clue who she was.

It was still hers. This was just theirs. And maybe it could be enough. If this was all she could have, it had to be enough.

She was so deep in thought, contemplating the futility of her love story, that when someone walked into the room, she was completely taken off guard. But realizing who exactly it was had her blushing like a startstruck fool while she rushed to hide the parchment she was writing on. For there stood the object of her affection himself squinting down at her in confusion.

“Soutaicho!” She gasped.

Oh. My. God. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Oh good lord. How embarrassing would it be if she actually passed out and that ended up being his first ever impression of her? This was the worst thing that could ever happen to her. The absolute worst considering she could feel her cheeks flush even redder.

— — —

Shunsui wasn't Yamaji. He wasn’t one to sit in an office or be strictly all business. It wasn’t in him to be that way.

In fact, even Nanao-chan insisted that he try to stick to being his wandering self so that he could hold on to the truest parts of himself while he was handling the responsibilities of being Soutaicho, without having the title absorbing him whole. He wanted to cultivate his own traditions in the Gotei 13 rather than adhere to the old ones, doing everything exactly the same way they had been done for a millennia or more. Rigidity could spell death. For the Gotei. And also for his sanity.

One of his favorite traditions so far would be his impromptu visits to the other divisions. It wouldn't ever be formal, though the other Taichos never seemed to get that memo. He just liked to know if the Gotei was doing alright under his care. What better way to know than to see it for himself?

Kuchiki Rukia had just become the Captain of Squad 13, and that squad held a special place in his heart after all. Why wouldn’t he want to check up on her?

Fine. Who was he fooling? That was not the reason he was here at all. The moment he left his office, his feet were drawn to Squad 13 and the ugendo purely out of habit. It wasn’t until he was already there, startling the squad’s third seat out of some paperwork that he realized where he really was.

“Soutaicho!” The third seat, whose pretty face he remembered but the name he couldn’t recall, stood up instantly, shuffling her papers around hastily. “I...I..uhm...I didn’t realize...”

The door opened and Rukia walked out interrupting the poor girl’s stammering. “It’s alright, _____-san. I think he’s here to see me.”

“I thought I forgot a scheduled inspection, Taicho!”

Rukia looked at him as if to ask if that was the case, but they both knew it wasn’t. After all, it wasn’t the first time that Shunsui had wandered only to end up here.

Just the same, he wanted to put them at ease. “You’re not in trouble,” he said with a smile. “I just felt like a walk and I thought I’d come see the new Taicho.”

The third seat, still probably mesmerized by Shunsui and the fact that she was actually standing before the Soutaicho of the Gotei 13 itself, stared at him with wide eyes. She was a tiny little thing. Barely reaching even the top of his shoulders. And in that moment, she looked a bit like a doe caught in headlights.

“You go on ahead, _____-san,” Rukia said gently, taking pity on her subordinate. “The workday is already over. We can finish the rest of the paperwork tomorrow.”

“Oh! Uhm...yes, Taicho!” _____-san said. Then she turned to Shunsui and bowed before making a very hasty exit.

The scent of lemons that softly teased his nostrils as she rushed past him was the first breadcrumb. Looking back at that moment, he would think so. But in that moment, he didn’t really make note of it all.

His mind was too busy trying to think of an excuse to give Rukia for randomly showing up. One that wouldn’t have her feeling too sad for him.

Besides it made perfect sense when Rukia offered him lemonade that the third seat usually made for the squad once in a while to keep up their morale on summer days. What else would smell like lemons if not delicious lemonade?

——— 

When Shunsui reached back to the office to see if Nanao-Chan had anything more he had to attend to before he headed out, the office was empty.

But there at the center of his desk was a carefully placed envelope with his name written in the same beautiful handwriting he had grown to know so well and wait for with anticipation.

Dear Shunsui,

It’s been a while since I last saw your face and I find myself missing you. I confess, thoughts of you have me distracted. I keep looking for you no matter where I am, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you.

And in the rare moment that I do, I wish I could just run up to you and greet you with a kiss. As if you were truly mine.

I see the sadness you hope no one would notice. I see how it lingers even when you smile. You could never know how much I wish I could take away the pain but I know that is beyond me.

So I wish I could just hold you close and maybe make you forget the rest of the world and the weight upon your shoulders. I wish I would get a moment to make you smile just so I can kiss the curve of your lips.

But my love must remain confined here to ink and paper and that breaks my heart.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

—

This one tugged his heart in the strangest way and had him holding the letter close to his chest.

He did indeed have people around him. People who respected him. People who revered him. People who flirted with him and the ones he flirted back with.

Yet he longed for the kind of companionship in which even proximity could offer comfort. In which even silence could soothe him.

These letters started out silly and romantic and seductive...all things he definitely enjoyed.

But now, on a day like this, when he felt too low and too alone, this letter had him yearning too. It had him hoping, and wishing in a way he hadn’t felt the need to in a millennia.

He had to find her. He just had to.

——

Read Part 3 next.

Get add to the Tag List here!

PS: THE ASK BOX IS OPEN FOR REQUESTS!

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander​ for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit. 

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad. 

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend. 

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life. 

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business. 

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge. 

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him. 

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man. 

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance. 

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet. 

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. 

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned. 

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter. 

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but  -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine. 

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on,  he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago. 

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him. 

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too. 

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it. 

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was. 

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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Professor!Javi Taglist: @misslolasworld  @mrsparknuts

[mxgilray]

I... have some thoughts on the Loki finale. It was not what I was expecting, but I'm still hopeful for season 2.

This felt like a meh finale, like how a lot of season finales felt in Spring 2020 when they unexpectedly quit filming and had to cut things short by a couple episodes thanks to the pandemic. Only this was the planned out finale, they should've given a bit more oomph. I'm quite a fan of exposition and character development usually, but all the dialog was centered on He Who Remains, so it felt like our main characters were just side pieces.

Plus, the final "cliffhanger" of Mobius not knowing Loki and the statue of HWR replacing the Time Keeper statues felt quite lackluster. Not sure how they could've made it hit harder, but it didn't deliver the "oh shit" vibes they intended, but maybe that's cuz Mobius not remembering Loki has been an expected plot line on tumblr for half the season so it wasn't a blindside.

I get the point of the Sylki kiss. From what I've seen on tumblr so far I feel like the nuance of Sylvies actions was lost to most people (both Sylki fans and antis just Didn't Get It). It wasn't a big declaration of love like the fans are grasping onto it as, and it wasn't shoving selfcest into the canon to keep the heternormativity like antis are accusing it of being; it was Sylvie using Loki's attachment to her to trick him. She needed Loki out of her way, and she knew the only way to get past him and get He Who Remains' tempad was through emotional distraction. She used his love against him and betrayed him, a kiss was simply the most efficient way to do it. I did a whole post last week about Sylvie's feelings towards Loki, but to sum up I firmly believe that while Loki harbors some romantic feelings for Sylvie, she feels strictly platonic towards him, but is very aware of his attraction. She took advantage of his care for her to get the upper hand during their fight. Heck she even foreshadowed it herself in ep 5. "There are more important things than friends" "like taking down the TVA" she told Loki that taking down whoever is behind the TVA comes before everything; it's priority #1 in her book, above friendship or love or trust. Loki proved that his priority now is the greater good of the universe not her revenge, so Sylvie has no use for him anymore (partners only when it's convenient, because she is a Loki and that's how emotionally stunted Lokis behave).

I would like to point out the irony of her being worried about Loki betraying her, only to turn around and betray him. It's in the realm of "people who cheat assuming their partner is cheating" / "not using a turn signal when changing planes to avoid being cut off because when you see someone else use their signal you tend to cut them off", it's assuming other people will behave like you do. Sylvie feared in ep 5 that Loki would betray her in the end because she knew if it came down to it she'd betray him. But the thing is, he's actually grown past that. Loki is finally thinking about how his actions can damage others, not just his own wants and needs. Sylvie saw this moral change in Loki, realized there was no chance of getting him back on the blind revenge boat, and decided to exploit his newfound selflessness and emotional attachment to get him out of her path.

This whole season Loki has been maturing emotionally and growing into the best, most heroic version of himself. Sylvie, on the other hand, still has that deceptive, selfish, can't trust anyone persona that every Loki develops to combat insecurity. She hasn't had the emotional growth needed to see the bigger picture, she's still trapped in her own self centered mindset. As such, she disregards the impact her betrayal will have on Loki, the impact killing HWR will have on the universe. She doesn't even take a beat to consider whether revenge is still the right path cuz she doesn't practice self reflection yet; revenge has always been the goal and she refuses to give herself a chance of changing her mind. I hope in season 2 she'll get some character growth, now that her 1 goal has been accomplished.

Now on to Mobius. I enjoyed his scenes, I wish we'd been shown more of what he did to reveal the truth to the rest of the TVA. Again, I feel like too much time was given to HWR's monologing and not enough was spent on the other characters so Mobius and B-15 got very little screen time to display their plan. I am happy Mobius got the opportunity to throw Ranslayers betrayal back in her face, and his attemp at attacking her...my boy you work a desk job you ain't no fighter, she used to work in the field collecting variants, you had no chance. Also, where the F did she go??? I kept expecting her to show up at the end of time but she didn't. Where did Miss Minutes send her??

I'm sad Mobius doesn't know Loki anymore, but I can't say I'm surprised. I've got a few different thoughts on what the heck is going on with him and the TVA:

Sylvie accidentally sent Loki way back to a time early on in the TVA before HWR created the Time Keepers for anonymity. As such, this is a past Mobius who has yet to meet Loki or even learn of Loki's existence. If this is the case, then I think Loki and Past!Mobius's interaction at the end of ep 6 will be the catalyst for him becoming a Loki expert. The 63 branching timelines Mobius and B-15 are discussing before Loki interrupts are from some currently unknown disaster that'll be a plot line in s2. (This is my least favorite theory, but nevertheless a possibility)

HWR was correct when he said that if Sylvie kills him and destroys the TVA then another variant of him will just start it all up again. This variant didn't care to remain anonymous, hence the big statue of him, but kept all the memory wiped variants working there. Because time is a chaotic bitch, the changeover from one HWR variant to another may have been near seamless at the TVA and just involved a quick memory wipe of anything relating to the Time Keepers, Loki and Sylvie, or knowledge that the TVA are all variants. The 63 branches may be thanks to something Renslayer is doing like killing all the HWR variants in existence in order to negate the need for the TVA. The branching could also be from Sylvie's revenge still, we have no idea how much time has passed between her killing HWR and a new HWR taking over so the branching she caused could still be an issue.

There have actually been multiple TVAs running simultaneously, each in their own multiverse. Each one employs memory wiped variants, each one is in charge of a certain subset of timelines, and all work under the one HWR. Sylvie used HWR's tempad to eject Loki back to the TVA, but she accidentally sent him to the TVA of a different multiverse not realizing that's a Thing. The 63 branching timelines Mobius and B-15 are discussing are indeed from Sylvie killing HWR, but there's only 63 as opposed to the countless we saw diverging from Sylvie's perspective because this TVA only sees branches on timelines within their own multiverse. Mobius doesn't know Loki because he isn't our Mobius and in the multiverse he works in maybe Loki's aren't as much of an issue because none of them ever escaped the TVA like Sylvie did (or none of them have Tom's face so he doesn't recognize him as a Loki). If this is the case, then Loki is gonna have to find his way back to his own multiverse in order to be reunited with his Mobius, and that could end up happening thanks to Renslayer. Miss Minutes gave her a file that I suspect only HWR should have access to. Maybe it was tempad coordinates for other multiverses? It took til the 31st century for the multiverses to be connected despite Tony figuring out time travel in the 21st century because travel between universes is much harder, maybe HWR is still the only one who knows how to do that. (If this theory is correct then all the time travel done during Endgame was through timelines within one multiverse) Also just thought of this but what if the reason there are so many extreme variations of loki that grew to adulthood is because the criteria of "sacred timeline" is different in each multiverse. Classic Loki and maybe President Loki and Kid Loki are from the same universe as MCU Loki, but red haired Loki, Croki, Boastful Loki, etc are all from other universes. Think about it, Classic Loki, 2012 Loki, and MCU Loki all have an exact identical path up until their nexus event (or death in MCU Loki's case). I think other than identifying as female, Sylvie's childhood was identical as well and that her nexus event was coming to terms with her adoption as a child, which erased the catalyst of 2011 Thor's plot and would've changed everything for her future path. Had her adoption remained a secret and she grew up on asgard, I believe her story would mirror MCU Loki's. It mildly hit me weird that there would be such wild variation amongst Lokis, even with him being a shapeshifter, because there's a rigid sacred timeline (that supposedly the MCU movies have all adhered to) and they all felt like too big of a divergence to have been left unchecked so long. If boastful Loki was telling the truth about getting all 6 infinity stones then he should've triggered a nexus event as soon as he got more than the 3 he is "supposed to" interact with, unless in his multiverse the sacred timeline criteria is different. Another theory: the agents employed in each TVA are from multiverses other than the one they're working in. It would make sense, keep them from running into their own past by fully detaching each agent from their home timeline/universe. So the Principal!Renslayer that B-15 found will never in any future become the TVA judge we know. The one we know maybe came from the universe Loki got sent to, and that's how the two of them will end up crossing paths again.

[mahizli]

Odds And Numbers (Cody and Obi-Wan, 22 BBY)

Part 13 of ‘Sparks of Hope- A Star Wars Advent Calendar’.

***

Commander Cody did not believe in chance or fate. Those were for the dreamers, those General Kenobi called enthusiasts – people who believed there was a greater purpose in everything.

Cody had been taught that safety resided in numbers. In calculating the outcomes, studying the battlefield, placing the troopers carefully, according to their abilities.

And of course, his training on Kamino had also taught him that strength was achieved in brotherhood. Adhering to values like honour, loyalty and duty. Taking care of one’s vode, making sure they stayed focused, strong and reliable.

Cody did not believe in chance or fate – but General Kenobi believed in what the Jetii called the Force, and over those first months at his side, Cody had tempered some of his views with what the General called nuances.

His Jetii General believed in the Force, was able to feel it all around them and use it when he fought, spinning so fast the eye could not follow, deflecting blaster bolts almost before they were shot and leaping like he had wings. He was able to will the pain away, to heal light injuries and to stay without eating and drinking for days. But mostly, General Kenobi, like every other Jetii, was able to sense feelings and thoughts in the Force, to absorb or reflect them, and to read what he called signatures.

The first time they had met, Cody had stood to attention, back rigid and gaze straight, studying the Jetii who was to become his General – face seemingly blank while his mind assessed him.

Jetii General Obi-Wan Kenobi was slightly shorter than him, but not small. He was lean, but not frail, grave but not intimidating, yet Cody quickly calculated that with those linen tunics and thin trousers and layers of plain fabric, the Jetii wouldn’t stand a chance on the battlefield.

That was before he saw him in action, fighting and spinning before him like nothing Cody had ever witnessed before. General Kenobi was not one to linger behind, not one to leave wounded on the field either – and after that first battle together, where the Jetii’s tunic had soiled with dust and blood that was partly his own, both had struck what the General called a compromise.

Jetii General Obi-Wan Kenobi would be wearing a chest plate, pauldrons and vambraces, as well as blacks and boots, like a vode. But he would keep a Jetii tabard, and his Jetii belt, and stay without helmet or blaster – because he had his lightsaber.

Cody did not believe in chance, or wonder, but after two months at General Kenobi’s side, he had come to the conclusion that this Force the Jetii worshipped did not work randomly. It was something like tipping the odds, changing them to fate, then to facts once more. Or rather, making the odds clearer around them, allowing some trust to sip below Cody’s carefully kept armour.

He had come to trust General Kenobi. And not because he was a Jetii. But because the Jetii he was did not only rely upon the Force. General Kenobi did not just jump into battle carelessly – he always made sure to know everything he could about the field and the people they were dealing with. He had not just one plan, he often conceived at least another, if not two – and he worked. Tirelessly. Always improve his knowledge in battle and strategics, always seeking for the peaceful solution whenever they were on a mission, training whenever he could to perfect his combat skills – and teaching, of course.

That impulsive former hibir of his who was defying odds all the times, driving the General nearly insane – yet Cody knew just how much he cared for General Skywalker, whom he had raised like a child of his, until he became a friend.  

And that nehutyc little Commander, who had not learned yet that some odds could not be defeated, but was so endearing in that childish belief.

“She will learn. She is young still”, General Kenobi had told him, after they had evacuated her and her remaining troops on Felucia in a last-minute rescue – but Cody read his eye-language now and had seen sadness and worry and care there.

Just like that day General Kenobi had learned about the way the Kaminoan made the vode age faster, so that they could be battle-ready at ten. That day, the Jetii had paled, body getting very still at Cody’s side, who had not, ever, spared a second thought about it.

Seeing his Jetii-General so upset had made something in him stir, though. And so, being assigned to a Jetii who loved words and kept weighing them with such care, Cody had begun to think about them as well.

Words completed numbers, sometimes – they defined things better, like looking through electrobinoculars.

Enthusiasts. Nuances. Signatures. Compromise.

Cody had lost count of those words opening his inner world like small crevices. Some made him think. Some made him reconsider. And some left him in a state of silent wonder, because it felt like finally putting a name, an explanation to some patterns he had studied silently.

“Serendipity”, General Kenobi told him, one night, as they were sitting together on the Negociator’s bridge, going through medical supply-lists.

“It means: found by chance, by accident or coincidence – not by reasoning.”

Cody raised an eyebrow, face carefully lowered, but General Kenobi smiled at him, because he could read him through the Force.

“Not something you like, my dear Commander. Yet that is how the precursor of Nysillin was discovered. A researcher one forgot a box containing a colony of germs into a cupboard, and it became mouldy. When she finally remembered that box, she realised the germs had not grown. Rather, the mould seemed to have prevented them from colonising the box – so she tried to isolate it and to study it better. And that’s how we are able to use Nysillin now.”

“So… if she hadn’t forgotten that box…”, Cody said, slowly, frowning down at his data-pad and at the carefully drawn lists.

“Well, yes, Commander. Perhaps we would stand very differently now…”

Cody stayed silent a while more, then he raised his face and met General Kenobi’s calm, shrewd grey eyes.

“Is it something you like, sir? That… serendipity you just spoke of.”

The Jetii’s eyes turned soft, something very intimate sweeping briefly through his features.

“It is a word that is very dear to me, yes. You see, Commander, I do not think there are such things as immutable fates. I think every little act, and word, and thought probably plays a part into shaping the world around us. But I also think we will all remind blind, either wholly or partially, until we join the Force. So, serendipity… I like to think it is the Force’s way to give us a nudge.”

He smiled at him, wrapping his hand around his mug of tea.

“Yet it is but that: a nudge. We still have to deepen the course it shows us, and steer ourselves in the right direction.”

Cody nodded, slowly, assessing and processing the General’s words. And somehow, that night, working very late along his Jetii’s General side, another crevice opened in him, allowing few, precious words to pour out as well.

That night, he told the General that every vode had, in fact, something more than a number. Something they kept secret, only known by batch-brothers, because numbers were long and dull and hard to remember when one was just a kid.

“It is not a name. It’s… something that happened that made us laugh, or a special event involving a vode. It’s… I think it’s like the nudge you spoke about before, sir.”

The General’s eyes were still bright and alert, despite the late hour. His hair was tousled, though, because he had run his fingers several times through his hair, trying to rouse himself as they completed report after report. The Kaminoans would have brought him a comb, wordlessly radiating disapproval for everything that was not neat or symmetrical. But Cody just thought it made one want to speak to him, knowing one would not be judged.

“A nickname?”, the General questioned, softly, and Cody’s heart soared, for a brief second, leaving him almost helpless in the feeling’s wake.

“A nickname”, he repeated, tasting the word like some unknown flavour.

General Kenobi nodded, face growing thoughtful, eyes gentle as so often.

“Your signatures are so different, Commander. You may look alike – but I can assure you are not, in the Force. You all have a very unique way to be. And to become, as we all do.”

“They call me Cody. And it’s not Mando’a, even though Kote… Kote is another name they call me now. Because…”

“Because you are a fine leader, Commander. One that gave much glory to his troops – along with pride and strength.”

His General had a unique way of praising, too. It never looked like flattery. It just looked like facts, spoken with something warm Cody was finally identifying as care. And respect.

“Cody didn’t come from Kote, though, sir. It came from me… well… always telling my vode that safety was in numbers. Not just odds. And so they called me Codes, first, but quickly switched to Cody. I think only Rex remembers Codes, now, sir.”

General Kenobi smiled at him, and Cody almost smiled back, keeping his face straight just in time.

“I like all of these names, Commander. And I think… it is a wonderful thing to encourage, is it not? As much as I trust numbers and plans, as you so well know, I do prefer addressing people by names or titles.”

That night, General Kenobi called him Cody for the very first time. Sometimes he would use his title, sometimes he would combine both. Cody himself did not call him Obi-Wan – that was a name kept for Jetii and non-battle-friends. Instead, he called him sir, General, or General Kenobi – it was enough.

Or perhaps, it was because, sometimes, there was no real word for the fissures and light shaping people.  

Sometimes, words and names were simply not enough – but infinite.

And deep inside, it made Cody smile.

[constablegoo]

@astralglam​​​​ filed a report .

mint: does your muse view themself as virtuous & moral? what do these words mean to them?

OHOHO. hey hi ily. this is, of course, one of odo’s deepest ongoing battles, and the moment he stops questioning it is the moment he becomes a founder.

the founders grant themselves god status.  GOD!  status. they just reach out and pluck it. Within their range of power, the founders become unquestionably Just and Virtuous and Moral, their Word becomes Law, it becomes “the way things are” and “fact” and they create their own reality stemming from thousands of years of intense xenophobia. they’re above it all. gods don’t make mistakes, right? sure, maybe changelings were hunted and feared ages ago but they still fear it, and that drive for Order and Control over the galaxy is now encoded into their genes and they place a companion structure into the genes of every other species they control, subjugating them to the founders’ own cozy position as Gods, or-- ‘gods’. the founder (i rly don’t like saying “female” founder so she’s THE Founder. she speaks for the link.) makes it quite clear on many occasions that the founders are not here to negotiate. they fully intend to control EVERYTHING at any cost. it is absolutely  chilling  when she cuts garak down with: “they’re dead. you’re dead. cardassia is dead.” and draws the line between the dominion and everyone else miles deep into the sand.

that same genetic coding is one of the first semi-concrete things odo comes to understand about himself and, horribly, he’s landed into conditions under the occupation that very easily could have taken advantage of a less meticulous or stubborn changeling. no, odo says initially (and incorrectly), i am not bajoran** and i am not cardassian and i stand apart from either side of this conflict and so i am bound to PURE Virtue and Morality because of it. he can’t be bribed or bought or won over, and he won’t allow for anything less than a kind of incorruptibility. this effectively wins him allies (and enemies) on both sides, however -- that’s just not how the universe works. the truth of it is that no matter how much he tells himself he is not a part of their regime, his working with the cardassians makes him a collaborator in that he has then recognized their authority and ultimately upheld their legitimacy, even if he never agreed with the cause, even if he was also on some level a casualty of it. at some point when he moves past ‘contract’ investigation and begins to work permanently, he falls into the trap of thinking Order is the same thing as Justice... huge yikes. in that moment he becomes a true and apathetic villain, but he’s subsequently haunted by the resulting execution of innocents. it shakes something up in him. years pass and he still wonders, what other mistakes has he made? what other less direct consequences of his ‘neutral’ arbitration exist? he (and everyone around him) has to live without really knowing, and it’s a constant reminder to him of the power he holds and it informs his understanding of what Real (and imperfect) Justice Means.

**sidenote but later in s7 he introduces himself as ‘from bajor’ and AAAAAA. its good. very good. yeah, you’re bajoran, odo. he gets it now.

Mirror odo is really the ultimate example of an odo having taken those instincts to extremes in an environment that rewarded him for them -- there is no guilt there, and even a sadistic kind of pleasure in it. i’d argue that gaia!odo is another, less extreme example of an odo who’s been alone too long and lost sight of things when he single-mindedly (and against kira’s wishes) chooses her (one person) over 8000. like holy shit? NOT ok? uhhuhhhhfff. anyway. very fortunately, neither of these are OUR odo, but act as great foils to reflect on the worst (bastard cop) qualities or potential qualities of our goo pushed to highly visible extremes, which star trek just loves to do all the time.

but regular/prime odo isnt exactly a rule-follower, either. throughout his life, he frequently takes things into his own hands, uses his abilities to his advantage, spies, wiretaps, eavesdrops, and yes, harasses [quark] sometimes -- he develops his own set of values and personal rules and follows them; even starfleet comes in wary of him and how he operates and hes on thin ice. but because of possibly his most redeeming quality, odo is able to adapt those self-ordained values toward something increasingly honest: for how rigid he can be in personality, he is HIGHLY influenced by the world around him,  listens hard  to what his friends and allies have to say and adapts that feedback; this allows him to evolve and grow and take important matters to heart. he becomes more flexible and better able to hold onto what’s really most important after locking into a decision, because above all else, he is passionately committed to doing the Right Thing. he PLEADS with himself in things past, “your job is to find the truth, not obtain convictions.” by his tendency to push back against what is laid down as ‘law’ (something he becomes more and more aware of and effective at doing) as not always being good or right, or necessarily even creating Order (the thing he’s driven genetically to want), he prepares himself to challenge the most deadly voice of authority -- that of his own people.

so... yes and no. odo’s role and persona as ‘your average security chief’ might dictate that he be virtuous and moral, but he so obviously can’t fit the same exact mold as others in his position -- he has these insane abilities and this mind-consuming nature and it requires he tread with extra care, but he also has a potential for more adaptive, more nuanced morality. he has to build up his own definitions to the words, constantly examine and tease and test them, or else he risks straying too far from what he really wants to achieve -- harmony, honest justice. he has to accept that he’s a part of the system he operates in (not, in fact, alone or isolated! something he actually wants), and know that he is not exempt from making the wrong choice, just like anybody else.

carnation: what is your muse’s relationship with their gender? how do they express or not express this relationship?

ODO AND GENDER!!! i love odo and gender. let’s take this one step at a time. he starts out as an amorphous glob -- he has no gender. there’s no basis for assignment, no culture of difference, and all the goos are goo. odo takes on the shape of the first living thing he sees / the thing he sees most frequently: dr mora. he adopts an image of masculinity from mora and he adopts the hair. that’s about it, and it’s pretty much arbitrary. (maybe the hair is simple enough for his skills, too?) the next people odo meets are also these very masculine, military, cardassian leaders, so again -- this is all he knows! this is neutrality. i imagine it takes him some time to work out what the differences in gender are, and sex, and orientation, romantic vs sexual stuff, all of that. it’s all got cultural baggage he knows nothing about and does not experience, and he’s also dealing with multiple, clashing cultures to boot. since he doesnt have any strong inherent leaning, he simply opts out. he/him becomes his default because thats where he started, thats what he’s been able to successfully present and how people know him, and, terrifyingly, under cardassian rule, it probably offered a bit of safety, too, which was obviously something he needed at the time.

way way way way way down the line in season seven, odo asks kira to (paraphrasing) look at me. what do you see? [i see you.] but this is NOT me, this is only a shape ive assumed in order to fit in. she says, yes, i know that. but this is who you have chosen to be. “a man. a good and honest man.” (i knowww shes not really talking abt gender here BUT) its hard as a trans person not to read the metaphor. he’s chosen to express SOMETHING. he’s chosen something other than what he was given (neutrality) and although he doesnt personally buy into what ‘masculinity’ “should be” (ie the ferengi, smh) / would certainly not argue he doesnt feel non-binary, this is how he has presented all his life, its how hes been treated, and it is what he has chosen to adhere to. there’s a choice in that, kira’s right, and now it reflects something about him.

parallel this, i’ll mention the “female” founder again bc of course there is no discernable reason for her to have a gender -- other than to appeal (im not talking sexually here although there’s,, obviously weird shit happening with the link... yike) to odo in the sense that until that point odo has lived with “gendered” individuals and, i think importantly, kira is with them when they first meet. i think its safe to say the founder saw her, figured she was a friend/ally to odo or at least familiar to him, and took her general representation to appeal as a friend/ally.

otherwise... why, honestly? the founder’s got NO love of humanoids lmao why would she bother.

anyway i’d like to see odo experiment a bit. because when hes safe, he can!! aside from his own doubts and insecurities about shapeshifting, at some point he really has no reason not to, at least a little bit. really, it should just be another thing to practice, much like becoming a convincing rock or a leaf, its just that there are other significances in the cultures around him. i’d just like to see him loosen up a little. have fun. grow ur hair out a bit, odo, why are u still looking like ur terrible dad.

[colortheorydesignco]

Making the most of your class subscription | Weekly Classes

We are thrilled to be launching a refreshed version of our online floral class subscription in 2021! When we initially launched it, somewhat haphazardly, we loosely referred to it as anything from “virtual floral design education” to “weekly floristry classes online,” depending on our mood that day. Now that some time has passed and we have had an opportunity to further clarify our vision, by identifying our core motivations and intentions for providing an online educational resource, we have decided to rename (or name properly for the first time) our offering to Flowering Minds.

We wanted to give our subscribers, both current and future, a little more guidance on how to most effectively make use of this virtual floral education resource now that we’ve added extra features to the subscription in 2021.

To ensure you are keeping your mind activated and engaged, here are a few suggestions to help you maximize the returns on your investment in this online floral class subscription!

Choose one dedicated day a week

TIME. We all have know just how quickly time can get away from us. We are celebrating another New Year’s Eve and then before we know it we’ve arrived at the beginning of summer. It is so easy to get swept away with errands, children, car repairs, last minute meetings and more. Time seems as if it is a rigid, constant and linear construct, but the human brain experiences it as anything but that…our perception of time shifts, distorts, speeds up, slows down, expands, contracts, etc…it’s quite fascinating, truly. In acknowledgement of our dynamic relationship with time, we recommend that you regularly dedicate a specific day to watch each week’s newest video. Not a mental note to watch on Tuesday morning but, rather, a calendar alert on your smartphone calendar to watch precisely at 10am on Thursdays, or whatever works for you. A meaningful commitment to dedicate a regular slot of time for personal growth. Knowing that our newest videos are generally released between Friday & Sunday, it would make sense to set time aside on a day between Monday and Thursday where you know that every week without fail you have the opportunity to learn something new.

Choose a dedicated time to watch the video

In the same way that an entire week can slip right by without notice, the same can occur with the hours in a day. Certain events in our lives are scheduled to occur at a precise time, often down to the minute. Clocking in at work, doctor’s appointments and wedding ceremonies. We tend to conform to these restrictions without putting up much of a fight. The floral design processes on wedding days generally adhere very tightly to a predetermined timeline and we always make it work without fail because of the importance of the event. We would argue that personal growth should be held in the same regard as we would view a wedding ceremony timeline or any other “important” time-specific event.

A common thread that has been observed in the daily routines of some of our society’s most prolific creatives is that of self-disciplined time management by way of reserving periods each day to focus solely on activities which directly promote growth in their chosen field of work. At that time every day, without fail, they are doing the work. It’s the 10,000 hour concept. Choose a time and make it work. No excuses. If your entire upcoming week just looks too impossibly busy already, just wake up earlier on one day. 5 am, 4 am, whatever it takes. It’ll be difficult when the alarm goes off that morning, but after you have put that time into yourself, you will not regret it. Stepping through obstacles and over hurdles tends to trigger positive-feedback loops in the human psyche. We are built to struggle and overcome and nothing feels more true to our nature than to overcome a challenge and bask in the resulting growth of character. This is what successful people do. Select a time and allot at least one hour to learn and reflect, regardless of how short the floral class video happens to be.

Take notes and generate questions

It is quite easy to passively breeze through a video and feel as if the new knowledge you have encountered translates immediately into growth. When we are exposed to new or motivating ideas while watching a YouTube video or listening to a podcast, we often feel the buzz of potential. But that buzz of potential should not be misconstrued as effective and lasting personal growth. Exposure to knowledge is merely the first step towards personal growth. That new, yet latent, knowledge, must be applied, and applied often..time and time again…before that latent knowledge becomes experiential and becomes woven into the fabric of your work ethic and artistic vision. When we witness an expert demonstrate a process that they are highly skilled at (by way of their experiences applying knowledge…their 10,000 hours) we are often deceived by the perceived effortlessness of that expert’s actions into feeling that we, too, could quite easily achieve that which we have just witnessed.

Actively watch. When you watch a floral design video, actively study the nuances in the design. Identify repeatable principles or patterns that are at the foundation of any particularly desirable result and then consider how these principles could be adapted or applied in different design scenarios. You want to assemble a personalized tool kit for creating your own personalized designs. Find the tactics and strategies that speak to you and place them into your tool box for future use. Understand how to use each tool and, more importantly, when and why you would want to use that particular tool. With time and practice, you’ll learn to instinctually reach for the right tool at precisely the right moment in the design process. Search for the unanswered questions within the video, because there are always questions to be asked. This is what critical thinking entails. Anyone can ask obvious questions- critical thinkers present questions that an average person wouldn’t think of. Once these questions are asked, the average thinker sees the question as obvious, even though they didn’t come up with it.

Utilize the Forum

Take your questions and notes to the forum. Start a discussion and share the questions you came up with so we can explore that topic together. When you think critically, you will come up with new insights, questions and assumptions than others wouldn’t, based on your unique brain and experiences. Sharing your unique perspective and receiving feedback from others is how interesting and enlightening conversations are started. Community outreach is a true catalyst for personal growth.

Put the education into tangible practice

As we mentioned above, there is a difference between latent knowledge and applied knowledge. Take the education you are absorbing and put it into practice shortly after watching the video. Many people will make plans to apply knowledge, feel charged and excited about making those plans, but then fail to make good on those plans. The actual work of the taking action doesn’t “feel” quite as good as the buzz of the planning stage. Nothing good comes easy. Practice delaying short-term gratification and play the long game. Short-term gratification is fleeting while the results of long-term, determined efforts are lasting and life-changing.

Educate yourself. Make plans and follow through with them. Act on what you learn.

This is how you achieve success.

Find out what a Flowering Minds membership entails!

Want to become a Flowering Minds member?

[enthusiasticsobrietyabuse]

Parent Manipulation Part 2 - Originally posted in 2005 OnTheEmmis.com, a Meehan Program Survivor Website and Discussion Forum. (ICECAP is the former incorporation of enthusiastic sobriety programs, it has since dissolved due to the effectiveness of OnTheEmmis.com)

So what’s the harm?

Well, it’s a dishonest way to make a living, for starters, and that is the very least of the harm done to people.

Let’s start by looking at the staff.

ICECAP has several lines for the skeptic who attempts to question the professionalism and integrity of their general staff.

“I may not be a doctor, but I’ve had my face in the ground long enough to know what the dirt looks like” is the sort of catch-phrase one may encounter when asking about ICECAP staff qualifications. The idea is one borrowed from Alcoholics Anonymous, that only a drunk can help another drunk. AA has been widely successful in rehabilitating alcoholics based on this principal, in which the catalyst is that one’s experiences lends him/her the ability to identify with the ‘alcoholic who still suffers’.

Further, the staff of ICECAP claims to function therapeutically from the platform of Alcoholics Anonymous principals and spiritual conditioning. The reason for all of this is so the ICECAP staff and methodology has a credible ‘foundation’ to justify its hiring and facilitation of non professional counselors. In short, AA is a household name, and is widely recognized as something that works. ICECAP uses this fact as a springboard for its operations.

The big problem with that idea is that ICECAP programs are not in any way similar to, affiliated with, kind of like, or even remotely in any way like AA. Alcoholics Anonymous is a non-profit self-help environment which has many safeguards cemented into its foundations that prevent any sort of ‘ego’ or for-profit interests from plaguing its members. Specifically, what AA refers to as ‘The Twelve Traditions’ are rigidly adhered to and aggressively enforced as guidelines to keep the AA name from anything that would divert the program from its primary purpose. The only similarity between ICECAP and AA is that they both have their members often form in a circle at the beginning and at the end of their meetings. Beyond that the two are apples and oranges.

Anyone who spends more than six months in both programs can easily see the canyon of differences that separate the two programs. The truth is, ICECAP drops the name of AA when it is convenient for them to do so, and rarely if ever gives the program any real credence.

“We are not AA, we are not trying to be AA, and we don’t play by the same rules as AA” (-direct quote- Michael C. Stonebraker, director and board member of ICECAP).

Ask ANY graduate from ICECAP, and they will tell you that a common dilemma that nearly every graduate experiences after leaving ICECAP and moving on to AA is that they are troubled with the inherent differences between the two groups philosophy’s for recovery. After years of ICECAP meetings, they are confronted with having to adjust to an entirely different program. In fact, most would say you are not off the mark if you suggested that it would have made just as much sense for them to graduate ICECAP into a monastery, or a school for lion tamers; instead of AA. They all have about the same in common: nothing.

Shouldn’t a program that claims to operate out of AA’s principals lend an easier transition to its clients from its rooms to AA itself?

I am painting this picture to illustrate that there is really nothing holding much water in ICECAP’s claim that its staff has credibility to function with kids from ideas that it ‘borrows’ from AA. To whatever extent a particular staff member of ICECAP attends or postures themselves as AA members, they do not deliver the principals of AA in a therapeutic manner to their clientele.

So what does that leave them with? Not much. The average ICECAP counselor is a high school drop out with no college or accredited training whatsoever. If asked for their credentials, they will respond with an array of phrases and ideas, all of which are meant to lead one away from any real answer. They will suggest with confidence and bravado that since they ‘come from the same place’ as their clients, they have an ‘edge’ in dealing with them the rest of the ‘professional’ community doesn’t. All of this can be very convincing to a parent, especially since their child seems to have taken so well to the given staff member. Again, this is ICECAP using the ‘unorthodox is better’ angle to begin the process of manipulation.

If long hair, dated language, concert t-shirts, a pretty face and a proletarian understanding of AA principals were all it took to rehabilitate a drug addict, then the world would be free of drug addiction tomorrow. The problem is that that is pretty much the only thing the average ICECAP counselor has going for him/her in terms of professionalism. They are funny and good looking. They know how to say ‘dude’ without looking like an old nerd. Kids love them and worship them. But they are INEPT AT ASSISTING THEM TO RECOVER FROM REAL DRUG ADDICTION!

So what then, does the average ICECAP counselor provide for a kid, if not sound professional guidance into the world of recovery?

Here are some of my observations on ICECAP provisions:

Kids in ICECAP are subjected to enormous pressure to take on the identity of a ‘dope fiend’. The ‘dope fiend’ model is constantly being illustrated to newcomers by staff and group members. It begins with traits that a lot of teens possess…rebellious action/ideation, foul language, ‘shock value’ expressionism, etc. But the irresponsible thing that ICECAP does with kids is that it sets them up to feel inadequate if they do not measure up to the complete profile of ICECAP’s ‘dope fiend’. The reason that this is such a bad idea is because the majority of ICECAP clientele are NOT ‘dope fiends’. If your kid is in ICECAP for any period of time, you will see a mental, physical and emotional change in them. Most parents (especially the ones who have invested thousands of dollars into this) view this as a good thing. If the changes in the child were not for the worst, I would agree with them. However, these changes include almost invariably the following:

Separation from school/education/career

Increased use of tobacco. Non-smokers will be encouraged to take up smoking (bizarre, but true).

The decline of a coherent or educated vocabulary. This is no joke. There is a rigid ‘dummied up’ dialect spoken by every member of ICECAP.

The encouragement of illegal behavior (curfew violations, trespassing, vandalism, underage smoking, etc.).

Limited exposure to outside influences. Music, films, books, clothes, sources of education, hairstyles, jewelry, where you get a cup of coffee, tattoos, leisure activities and more are all mandated by ICECAP doctrine.

Maladjusted/confused sexual behavior (more on this later)

One dimensional thinking/ apparent inability or unwillingness to think diversely or with any complexity.

Extremely narrow elements of thoughts applied to a very wide range of ‘life factors’, or; every problem life presents seems to have the same two or three things as an answer/rationale.

Constant fear of being ‘fucked up’, or ‘spiritually bankrupt’. ‘Negative’ actions by other people are consistently the result of these things.

Inconsistent/erratic emotional responses to seemingly normal situations.

Why would a kid willingly subject themselves to this?

The hook for teens is fairly obvious: Their parents leave them alone, they no longer have to go to school, they are allowed to smoke cigarettes, swear, and die their hair indigo blue if they want to, and there is usually a large enough pool of attractive peers to make the whole idea of ICECAP treatment not sound so bad.

Ask any current group member, and they will tell you that they do not feel controlled…that it is their choice to attend ICECAP. They will defend their positions with feverish resolve. They will claim moral high ground and a better way of life as what motivates them to ‘keep coming back’. Tell them that they are brainwashed, and they will respond by saying ‘well, maybe my brain could use a little washing…considering how sick I was’. Tell them they live their life in a ‘bubble’, and they will respond by saying ‘if this is a bubble, than I’m glad I’m in it…compared to the sick world I was a part of before!’

Two things are happening here: First, the child is offered nearly unlimited freedom, which in most cases is like a dream come true to them. What fifteen year old would turn that down? Second, instead of providing competent therapy or treatment, each kid is given this ‘dope fiend’ model, and as long as they adhere to this model, than they are ‘ok’. Everything that made Johnny ‘Johnny’ will be whittled away as he progresses through the ranks of ICECAP. He will attribute the changes to ‘getting rid of old behavior’, or ‘changing old tapes’, when in fact he is being herded and molded in a way that only a program facilitated by foolish, irresponsible amateurs can handle.

The sickest thing about this to me is the way they are manipulated by ICECAP into such devotion. The adolescent is such an impressionable creature, and everything that can possibly be used to woo them is carefully applied by ICECAP.

In Bob Meehan’s book, ‘Beyond the Yellow Brick Road’, there is a chapter called ‘The Teenage Psyche’. This is another decent chapter in this book. I’d encourage anyone to read it, because it perfectly illustrates what I am saying. If there is one thing that Meehan certainly has his finger on the pulse of, it’s what will attract a teenager. The ‘dope fiend’ model in which Meehan’s programs are forced to operate out of because of their gross lack of sound professional tools combined with the fact that ICECAP targets kids who are NOT ‘dope fiends’ creates a crippling environment for teenagers who would have otherwise just gone on with life.

Why would Meehan build his programs on such weak foundations professionally? To me that’s simple: Cheap labor. It’s not so hard morally to build a staff out of a bunch of negligent weirdoes like Mike Weiland, when your real aim has nothing to do with helping kids in the first place.

I believe that Bob Meehan has had two objectives from the very beginning. One was to satisfy his enormous ego, which he had never been able to accomplish prior to these programs. More importantly and certainly more dangerously, he wants money. It is no coincidence that every single person on the ICECAP payroll has been farmed from the group. These kids spend years trying to live up to those they believe (because they are told) are the most spiritually evolved humans on the planet (staff), and then picked to become the next generation of over-worked, under-paid servants of Bob Meehan’s empire.

Who pays the price? You, and more importantly…your kid.

And what of the rare occasion that a true addict walks through the doors of ICECAP?

It’s even worse for them. Many of them die.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

@4amkatara re: this thread (it’s getting long to reblog):

ohh yes!! i agree so much w what you said abt prioritising the collective. i think him putting others’ needs before his own is partly based in trauma, but i also think there’s a difference between that happening in personal/esp. familial relationships, and him putting the collective over his personal needs as a leader. the first may feed into the second, but i don’t think prioritising the collective is necessarily bad or unhealthy. imo it’s the duty of a leader to do that!

Yeah, exactly. I think his relationship with LWJ is definitely the most, mmm... draining for him in that sense, because so much of that is him looking after LWJ’s emotional needs, including when they’re both still children (the LWJ-kneeling-in-the-snow scene definitely gives me the vibe of LXC having to put aside his own grief because LWJ is being a bit more... disruptive, about how he’s expressing that). So I think he’s definitely got some unhealthy inclinations when it comes to expressing needs of his own. But yeah, I just don’t think that acknowledging those needs in a healthier way is necessarily diametrically opposed with continuing to serve others in a more institutional way (as opposed to interpersonal). And i think taking up his duties again after being in seclusion would probably be good for him.  

 and even if prioritising the collective was unhealthy, i don’t think pulling a 180 and just saying fuck the collective is the way to deal w that. lwj does jump from extremes like that but i don’t think his repression and obedience -> extreme devotion and putting love over all else is really. good or healthy or even romantic? i can see the appeal but it’s just not really for me

OH MOOD. I get the appeal of LWJ’s single-minded undying love of WWX as a trope, but I personally get a bit uncomfortable when people emphasize that aspect of their relationship, because I think that LWJ’s “my boyfriend, right or wrong” attitude is in many ways just as maladaptive as his teenage rigidity about The Rules. (And I think a lot of that is based in his trauma around WWX dying, too.) I think that’s part of why I prefer LWJ staying with the Lan and finding a way to make the sect rules work for him without completely uncritically adhering to them, to LWJ just leaving his sect so he can spend his days wandering around with WWX. Because his upbringing and his values are important to him, and I don’t want him to just chuck those out the window for the sake of love. (Especially because part of what I like about wangxian is that they have very different lifestyles and approaches to things like values, and so much of their relationship - I want to say especially in CQL? - is about compromise and actively coming to an understanding of each other. And I prefer that aspect of them to “abandoning the rest of the world because all we need is each other.” And he’s also got the juniors! Whom he cares about and who are a good place to funnel his energy that is not WWX.

(This is also related to why I really want LWJ to make some other friends post-canon.)  

and oh!! not to write for ages lol but yeah he’s not like his mom in that sense! i was thinking more of what he saw of his mom, which we at least see in cql as her smiling and pretending everything’s fine even in a situation that, though lxc didn’t know the details of, could probably sense was not. ideal

which is partly why the thing w deprioritising himself is imo linked to his childhood with his personal relationships. the idea that that’s how he should act as a parental figure, esp. after madam lan is gone and lwj is still kneeling at her door waiting for her to come back, influences his relationship w lwj a lot imo where he tries to kinda imitate it w lwj (though the deprioritisation/always putting on a smile/etc is partly is just who lxc is and how he deals with the pressures placed on him)

Ohhh, yeah, that makes sense! And what’s so telling to me is the way he seems to present her not making a fuss as a positive thing to WWX - and while I’m sure he’s still aware of the tragedy behind it, and how she was kind of forced to behave that way by her situation, it still seems to have influenced a lot of his notions of virtue and good behaviour.

(And I feel like LWJ took the exact opposite lesson from it, given that he would not fake a smile for diplomacy if you paid him. Part of that is just how his face is, but he also has zero interest in placating people he does not care for or respect.)

[script-a-world]

Is it honestly actually possible that bad people run most of the galaxy or several galaxies? Or at least even just an entire planet? It's done in sci fi a lot. However in real life that obviously has never happened. I'm not sure how to well, begin, create the circumstances that will give them that kind of vast power and not be defeated before. Even if they are the good guys, still, can't see how they can run everything either.

Bina: Totally possible since “bad” is relative depending on you who ask. If they have a believable facade of being “good” (or if they ARE doing good....... to just the right people (such as, politicians or powerful allies who will back them up)), and if they have a lot of supporters who think they’re the good guys, then it’s super feasible that they can take control of the majority of the galaxy with very little opposition.

Heck they can even get away with people just not thinking badly of them. They don’t necessarily need supporters who think they’re the right people to have in charge. Having people be neutral towards them can also be also good enough for them to take control without anyone complaining. All they need is people not caring. People supporting them is bonus, but apathy from the common man also goes a long long way in helping bad people come into power. 

In the end it’s all about controlling their narrative and their own publicity. They can be totally truly evil, but if they cover their tracks with enough propaganda and efforts to appear like they’re doing nothing wrong, or even that they’re doing things for the benefit of the people (or that they’re beneficial for powerful people who have more sway than the average person and can thus override the wills and desires of the common people), then the baddies can take power and the common man would either take no issue with it or be unable to do anything about it. 

Tex: The thing about leadership is that morality doesn't really calculate into it - they're two separate areas with very little overlap, especially if a leader is a successful one. The longevity of a leader's reign has more to do with their bureaucratic competency, organizational skills, competency to set and achieve certain goals that benefit those whom they rule (in some form), and ability to manipulate people. And, I hate to break it to you, but both "good" and "bad" people are manipulative, just for different reasons.

Al Capone is a classic example of how "bad" people can do good things that legitimately benefit others. He was a gangster that directly or indirectly had a hand in killing a great deal of people - but he was incredibly influential in making sure milk had expirations dates, among other things (Atlas Obscura). It could be argued that running bootleg alcohol at all was a good thing, given that a significant portion of the US population did exactly the same thing (to various degrees) during Prohibition. Is profiting off civil disobedience in such a manner against the mores of altruism? Murder or no murder, Capone straddles the line of "good" and "bad", depending on your point of view.

Martin Luther King, Jr, while on the surface might look like a paragon of virtue, did purposefully break laws with specific goals in mind - while his civil disobedience resulted in drastically fewer deaths than Capone's, he did still break the law. There are some schools of thought that believe adherence to the law is virtuous, and thus moral (and thus, "good"). Is MLK virtuous in this regard? Does his position as a minister of his faith grant him more morality than the average person, who isn't an official representative of a codified set of beliefs?

Both MLK and Capone caused immense upheaval in their respective eras and societies. Is this necessarily good? Is upheaval - change - bad? I'm sure there are proponents regarding both of them that can see the advantages and disadvantages of their respective actions. One is classically referred to as a "bad" person, and the other a "good" person. Why? And through whose lens are these judgements being made? Is the perspective itself moral?

Let me bring some fictional examples into this.

Emperor Palpatine, of Star Wars, is coded to be a distillation of evil - the evil, a scourge upon the galaxy. And yet, when he rose to power and declared himself emperor of a new empire, he was lauded as an incredible unifier. General evil-doer he may be, but his grip upon his own galaxy was ironclad, and his background as a senator and then chancellor shows that he was canny, able to organize his political agenda in influential ways that effected significant change upon the political and even economic landscapes of the respective eras of his life.

He was respected - yes, even by the Jedi - for his affable demeanour and bureaucratic acumen. His death, depending on the canon you subscribe to, did not end the vast reach of his influence, with post-mortem orders that were followed with the same fervent veneration as in life. Palpatine's opinion was trusted, and regardless of his moral compass, trust is still something that needs earning. What perceptions his followers are predisposed to, well- that's certainly another topic.

Aragorn II, son of Arathorn, of Lord of the Rings fame, ruled over the reunited kingdom of Arnor and Gondor after the war against Sauron. He is typically coded as the exact opposite of someone like Palpatine - generous, compassionate, wise. A unifier that began an unequivocal era of peace. However, his death toll is proportionally similar to Palpatine's during the war that secured his place upon the throne, and he had eschewed his responsibility as blood heir to the throne for a great deal of his life, a time during which there was famine, suffering, and death from Sauron's own influence. Are his reasons for obscuring his identity and being a Ranger good enough to justify the expansion of Sauron's reign through his relative inaction, his non-acceptance of leadership? Does the end of the war justify the means that Aragorn took to get there?

Is Aragorn more moral, more good than Palpatine, because his reign was brought about through total bloodshed? Palpatine's was wrought through the genocide of the Jedi, and yet his own reign brought a stability to his empire. It can be argued that the inaction on Aragorn's part, and the action on Palptine's part, during their respective wars pre-coronation, were a manipulation of the masses. They both chose to guise themselves for who they really were - the son of Arathorn II and the Lord descendant of Bane's line - only to unveil themselves at an opportune moment hastened on by their own actions to claim, and unify, these warring factions.

All four of these individuals, be the real or fictional, share something in common - the ability to be a successful leader. Their morality did not, in the end, impede them from swaying the masses to their opinions and leveraging the influence that they had - through argument, through force, through lineage - to assemble under a common goal. They all enacted dramatic, sweeping changes upon the society in which they lived, and utilized the power granted to them through their public's opinion to direct society in a direction that they wanted. They were good leaders, but that doesn't mean they had to be good people. 

Saphira: In my novel, I am working with two different rulers. One is an Empress and the other a Tyrant. I'll see what I can glean from each of these two to provide more context in a fictional setting.

The Empress has a positive perspective from her people, as he is backed by her Goddess and her long family line of rule. She has  well developed court, council and structure set by both the Goddess and generations of Empresses before her. (Yes, it's an all female-ruling lineage because they're Elephants and the species is largely Matriarchal, but I digress.) She uses generations of Faith-based morality and ideology  to cultivate the values and perspectives of her subjects. Her choices are just because the Goddess has told her to do it, and our Goddess is Benevolent for all. Behold, she has given us life and freedom beyond our bestial origins. She makes her decisions and rules her people using rigid methods and strict guidelines to keep the common life consistent and rational. Whether she is aware of it or not, it is not so much the faith or the prestige of her rule that is powerful, but that selfsame consistency and rationality of her people.

What I mean is this: because the way of life is consistent, it feels rational. Any good or bad that she does is ruled by the same beliefs as those before her. That makes it easy for her subjects to accept her decisions because it makes sense in the context of their everyday lives. Of course she is going to hoard all the 'non-essential' food in storehouses for the war, because we, the entirety of our people, have been preparing for the war that dominates over other races since our inception. Of course we will put finances into the arts, because we are the great race that will take over the planet and arts show how sophisticated and glorious we are. All of the laws that control, govern and guide her people tether to the same principles, and that makes her powerful. There is minimal resistance, because to resist is to change their daily life and core philosophies.

The Tyrant, on the other hand, has by definition stolen the power for himself by force, and that leaves him with a radically different set of tools to stay in power and rule his territories.

First is the Legacy. The narrative of his glorious victory, his noble war that dominated over the nations to protect the underdogs, helps give him some positive influence, but force is force. He is still dealing with those who will be able to mentally reject or object to his power. He could have taken one of two simple routes: A. Quell or crush any rebellion, or B. Wield that rebellion and outcry as a tool for positive change. A sometimes needs to be done, but his ideal is B. This helps create a positive influence over the territories to help reinforce his Coming to Power Narrative, and also fixes problems in the nation that allows him to turn his focus to other problems. Fun stuff.

His true power is that he is cheating. He is using his arcane ability (which won him the war in the first place) to A. live far longer than anyone has any right to, and B. give the overall impression that he can snap his enemies with the thought of snapping a matchstick. This makes his greatest tools Benevolence and Fear. Or, rather, Love and Fear. This gives the people two reasons to hesitate against him: "I don't want to because he does a decent job most of the time," followed by "also I just like being alive in general." 

Where he lacks in 'legitimate rule' with a long lineage, he has made  up for in a single, long lifespan. The current generation has never lived outside of his rule. Their parents were under his rule. Their great grandparents were under his rule. This also introduces a fear of change, and the fear of change is the greatest tool of all. If there is no great and colossal reason why something should be different (like, I dunno, a lot of people dying) then things tend to stay as they are.  

So what it comes down to are three factors, for staying in power. 

1. The populace thinking it's honestly not that bad, or it could be worse. 

2. Fear of change, or that this thing that claims to be better, isn't. 

3. The consequences of change are too dire. This person can murder me, my family and if they die the economy dies with them.

The moral strength of the character may be a direct influence over these factors. That moral compass might be completely irrelevant. That depends on the characters you want to write and what the narrative needs to present your ideas xor experience. Either way, it's how the ruler handles these factors, ether with skill or great lacking, that determines the strength and distance of their power. 

Constablewrites: Cracked just had an article about this from the perspective of the citizens: http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-ways-normal-people-allow-evil-rulers-to-thrive/ It's got some good links to sources discussing real-world regimes and historical examples.