#please research beyond wikipedia okay?

[finsterhund]

This is literally not how it happened. Other way around.

Development was basically done and then-publisher Virgin fumbled release (there were things like a language barrier and a conflict of interest between Eric and the Virgin head) and Virgin dropped the project around the time that the SATURN,not the game, would be at the time outdated.

I cannot stress enough also that DEVELOPMENT was not "abandoned" this was all on the end of the PUBLISHER.

This, for the record, is why the game would release in 98 after new publisher was found.

Journalistic slant is important and this is so obviously slanted by the singular pretty much contextually irrelevant rumor mill quote from specifically a Sega Saturn gaming magazine that someone selected for the Wikipedia page for some fucking reason 🙄

Behind the scenes Martin Alper(?) I think was trying to pressure Eric into throwing all the game development under the bus to sell the rights to DreamWorks to make a movie INSTEAD. In an interview Eric said that Virgin head claimed that video games were a passing fad but "movies were forever" and he was so adamant about trying to push this on Eric he few out to Paris at least twice.

Fred has gone on record (some of his statements can be inconsistent so YMMV) that development was finished in 96 and it took practically no time for him to program different ports when the publisher wanted it for another console.

Additionally, this is an indie game so idk why it's continuously such a big deal that the game took 5 years to release. Regardless of the fact that it was executive meddling's fault.

*edit" my dyscaclia ass didn't even initially see but she's got the dates off too. Sega Saturn was completely off the table by 98 because Virgin was out of the picture by 98. When they left Virgin they left all those deals and such behind. This happened sometime in 96/97 and yeah it was because the publisher was struggling and also creative differences between them and the team. 98 and subsequent publishing was entirely Infogrames (with additionally interplay in the US)

[behindthewox]

World of 波特 [pinyin: bōtè]

In case you missed it, WoP is expanding with a server in Chinese! That makes sense since it's a HUGE market that you'd definitely want to get into, but what doesn't make sense is the way it's being handled at the moment.

Unlike all the other WoP servers in other languages the ordinary rules don't seem to apply. Usually the site leaders must be natives/native speakers and it's up to them to hire staff and teachers that know and use the language for their content. Everything must be written in the server's language and it has to be original material. You can't just copy from other sources, that's plagiarism and we have rules against that.

The Chinese server is set to launch January 29th, and a message has been sent out to fill the teacher positions. It outright says (I'm paraphrasing slightly) "you don't need to know Chinese, just use google translate and chat GPT to cover the minimal text requirements" (i.e. PT/BS and answering owls, maybe say hi in the chat). The message also makes clear that it's only temporary until they find actual native Chinese speakers that will fill the positions, and the newly implemented job limits don't apply here.

I can understand that it's hard to find native Chinese speakers within our current WoX community, and Chinese isn't just one language: it exists in many variants, Standard Chinese being the most common in China followed by Standard Mandarin and Cantonese in Asia (source: quick wikipedia research, I'm not an expert, don't quote me on this). In a way it makes sense to create something temporary to start with and then build from, but this doesn't feel right. This feels shoddy and disrespectful, using google translate for an entire website. Chinese is one of the most ancient languages in the world still spoken today, and like all other languages it's complex and nuanced beyond google translate.

It makes you wonder if the people who decided to launch a Chinese WoP server really thought things through. Troubleshooting and consequence analysis is important, and we've got plenty of people in the WoX community who could volunteer to do just that. We have so many experienced people who know exactly what to look out for and what to expect, what they'd personally consider red flags in a website and what they'd want to see as a user.

We don't have the full insight in what goes on in the creation of this new server, but looking at it from the outside a lot of us agree that it doesn't look good and we have concerns: Are the lessons copied from existing sites and just translated, and if so: do they have permission to use the content? Are the lessons just AI-generated? Who is going to translate all the Harry Potter-specific words and terminology (google translate doesn't do fictional concepts like polyjuice potion). Is this a serious attempt to expand the WoP family or is it a desperate attempt to get new users that will generate more income for the company?

If anyone knows, please share! Asks is open, and so is post submissions.

[note: yes, I googled "Chinese for Harry Potter" for the post title and that makes me a hypocrite, but in my opinion singular words and phrases is fine to translate by manually looking it up on the internet. What's not okay is running an entire text-based RP website through google translate and expect it to maintain a good quality. Spoiler: it does not.] [additional note: I could write a lot more but I won't, at least not in this post. There is more to be said though.]

[nighthawkes]

Ok now I’m interested in boring guy. Funny little man. Shaking him in a shoe box with holes in its lid so he can breath. I noticed that some of his tagged posts shares a tag w business casual though 👀 bureaucracy as camp?? Elaborate for the peasants please

this is so exciting, okay:

Yes!! He’s definitely an office worker of some sort so he winds up in my business casual tag too sometimes. I think whatever he does, he doesn’t get paid, he just showed up one day and started working.

Bureaucracy as camp! So “camp is an aesthetic style and sensibility that regards something as appealing because of its bad taste and ironic value” (Wikipedia) is what I think of when I say "bureaucracy is camp to me."

Little business men and women dress up in their special Professional outfits and gather in groups to do special Professional things like discuss quarterly reports and client dossiers and market research findings. And they jump through hoops to impress people who’ve never had to do the work they’re doing. And they’re sending emails and memos and attending working lunches and “putting it on the company card.” And they’re all treating it sooooo seriously even though all of that shit sounds completely fake and/or pointless.

It’s that tweet that’s like “‘Business school’ sounds so made up. It’s what a kindergartner would say if you asked them where dads go all day.”

I think that American corporate professionalism and business culture is appealing because it’s lame and beyond ironic.

If you've ever seen any posts on here about resumes or office culture or adult etiquette, you'll probably know that of course officespeak and bureaucratic norms have their place in the world for a reason. They function as a common ground/language that people of different backgrounds can use to get work done cohesively (in addition to functioning as a tool of elitism/racism in a lot of ways). Theoretically though: You dress in suits to show respect for clients, coworkers, and your job. You say things like "circle back" to politely give people time to get their shit together. You participate in certain company activities to be a good sport and to build good will with your teams. And these things are valuable for the purposes they serve!

I'm obsessed with the idea of a guy who naturally and perfectly shapes himself to fit these language tools/norms and does so wholeheartedly because he thinks they're what's real. Rather than seeing norms as signifiers, he places the value on them at face value. He's not dressing in a suit to show respect or to fit in or out of a personal sense of fashion/enjoyment—he's doing it to wear a suit. And it isn't begrudging or thoughtless or anything but straightforward.

And I feel like tech bros and American corporate culture in the wake of what I generally know about 80s economic shifts have adopted this sort of serious idea that the business world is the real world. The Kendall Roy archetype. Patrick Bateman and that guy on the bus someone tweeted about who said he'd never seen American Psycho because he's too busy trading. Those types of guys.

So boring guy is like those guys but less emotionally fraught. He's not doing it for a power trip or a sense of superiority or to feed into his daddy issues (of which he has none). He's doing it just to do it.

And that's extra camp to me. The idea that the business world and anything it produces is real or more valuable than most other things—believing that—is camp to me by the Wikipedia definition. And I absolutely love projecting that onto the most bland guy imaginable.

He's no thoughts, head empty. It doesn't occur to him to have hobbies. You'd have to Sever him to give him anything close to a personality beyond "business" and even then his innie persona would just be like "hmm, I wonder if my outside personality is being as efficient as possible. Probably, since he decided to make me." and "Rewards for productivity? No thanks. I'm just here to work. I try not to keep track of metrics like that."

I also like the Merriam-Webster definition:

1. a. : something so outrageously artificial, affected, inappropriate, or out-of-date as to be considered amusing

[ohwellokcomputer]

why do some of y’all even bother making your OCs <insert minority ethnicity/nationality> if you’re not gonna bother to do like. any research on that ethnicity’s culture. can I PLEASE stop seeing indigenous american OCs that were clearly written by someone who skimmed the wikipedia page for Navajo Nation or whatever. and on that same note when y’all make OCs that are a different race from you maybe try not to reduce them to their stereotypes? you can draw your jewish OCs with a small nose its really okay we will still be able to tell they’re jewish if you’ve done your job as a writer/artist. but I guess most ppl just prefer the idea of a diverse story without bothering to expand their minority characters beyond stereotypes or even do like. basic research about what their life may have been like lol.

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

.

.

.

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[godsporncollection]

So… you’re asks are on so I assume it’s okay to ask for help or advice but if not please just ignore, no worries ^^

I was raised by very Mormon Mormons and had a bit of a mental breakdown yesterday about if or not it was okay to say I was traumatized or had been in a cult. I know it’s fucked up but those are some pretty heavy labels to use and I don’t want to intrude or trample.

I’m not asking you to diagnose me cause that’s a fucked up to put on a stranger and don’t think anyone but a therapist/psychologist and myself can figure out if I’m traumatized. (I know other people have been traumatized by but my experience hasnt been horrifying so much as misleading and addictive, thinking praying healed my illness but I still get to watch not-gospel approved things and go to medical doctors and therapists and stuff. It’s not affected my life much beyond not smoking or drinking which i wouldnt do anyway for medical reasons.)

Basically, is the lds church a cult or is it just regular religion pain? Sorry for the rambles, I’ve never talked about this before and have zero basis for where I am vs where other ex-members are.

I love getting asks! I'm not often good at giving advice - mostly because my experience of leaving was 15 years ago and predates my queer identity, which means I really don't know what most of the kids leaving the church these days, especially those on tumblr since most of them appear to be queer, are going through - but I'll usually encourage my followers to suggest stuff if I don't feel like my answers are adequate.

Short answer

The word 'cult' has a fairly simple and neutral definition, but you're likely asking me if I think the church is a dangerous organization. I really, really do.

Long answer

I think that the fact that you've had a breakdown over this question is something that could help you find the answer for yourself. Obviously our gut feelings aren't always right, but you clearly feel something is wrong with the church. If it weren't a cult, or at least a big bad organization, do you think they would do so many things that make people suspicious of it? I know we were taught that those feelings come from satan, but I feel it's nothing more than a mechanism of control.

So, what is a cult? The word 'cult' actually has a pretty innocuous definition. Merriam-Webster has a few, the most relevant being:

"a religion regarded as unorthodox or spurious."

"great devotion to a person, idea, object, movement, or work (such as a film or book)."

"a system of religious beliefs and ritual."

I'm sure there are many innocent organizations that qualify as cults with those definitions, but most people ascribe negative connotations to the word. Wikipedia touches on this, saying, "This sense of the term is controversial, having divergent definitions both in popular culture and academia, and has also been an ongoing source of contention among scholars across several fields of study."

When people say that the lds church is a cult - and many people agree that it is - they mean that the church is a harmful, controlling, and manipulative organization. That is the definition I intend when I use the term.

Now, how do we identify a cult? There isn't an official test, but we do have the BITE Model (Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotional control). The BITE Model is a list of recruitment and control tactics compiled from research done by psychologists and psychiatrists in the fields of mind control, brainwashing, indoctrination, organizational culture, and cognitive dissonance. It's generally accepted that if your organization meets most of the criteria listed in the BITE Model, it's a cult.

Many of the points within the BITE Model regard personal experience, and personal bias can influence your interpretation. Those who are within the mormon church may only consider the worst possible interpretation of each of the BITE Model points, and neglect to fully appreciate how to apply them to the actions of seemingly innocent church members. By minimizing the responsibility of church members, and the church at large, they invalidate the damage done not only to others, but to themselves.

I haven't written out my own assessment of how the BITE Model applies to mormonism, but John Dehlin, a prominent exmo, has shared his. Dehlin colored the bullet points in the following ways:

Green: “I don’t think the Mormon church does this in modern times.”

Orange: “I see this happening sometimes in the Mormon church (like on Missions), but not as a general rule .”

Red: “This occurs regularly within the Mormon Church.”

Having it 'easy' can make it difficult for us to realize just how insidious certain acts and doctrines of the church can be; it really makes us doubt ourselves and think we're just overreacting. But whether or not the church's teachings were used to abuse you, classifying mormonsim as a cult is pretty straightforward: it is. It alienates it's members, harms those who try to escape, and offensively bewilders those who come across it. It's missionaries and leaders are charismatic and dangerous. It hoards wealth, paying the leadership very well, while still demanding that 10% from it's poorest members. It preys on our weak moments, dangling the carrot of eternal peace if only we suffer and give enough, only to leave us tired and in pain.

No one else can give you permission to feel what you feel. That's something that belongs to you, and your trauma is legitimate.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

how does one know if they're ace or aro?

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhhhh, well, sadly this is a different experience for every individual, and I can only speak for myself. I am not Aro, so I can’t give you that personal anecdote, but I am ace.

You see, I grew up in a very conservative city, and went to catholic school, so you just... don’t think of anything other than boy and girl. Except I didn’t think of ANY of that at all. I thought maybe I was just a late bloomer. I got to college and still... nothing. Just what the HELL is wrong with me?

For me, growing up, I just... never understood why everyone was so obsessed with sex, and why making out never “turned me on”. I genuinely thought I was broken, that there was something wrong with me. I like being cuddled and hugged and just having emotional intimacy, but the second someone wanted to go beyond that, I was like “NOPE”, called a prude and a bitch, and that was that. I wanted all the aspects of a relationship but not interested at all in ever having the sex part of it.

But I never brought it up to my doctors, and I’ve never been in a serious relationship because “Hey, I’m broken, no one will want me anyway”, so I focussed on my career instead. I’ve essentially shied away from relationships because I didn’t want to explain to someone that “I’m broken, I only want cuddles, and it has to move at a snail’s pace”. So yeah.

This was all made worse by a mother who constantly told me “what’s wrong with you, why haven’t you given me grandchildren, HAH AHAHAHHA the movie “40 Year Old Virgin” is about you isn’t that hilarious??” 

No, mother, it wasn’t. 

What clued me into possibly being ace was actually really funny. It was when I got into the Sherlock fandom and people discussed Sherlock’s sexuality, and I believe it was Brönte who mentioned something about asexual Sherlock, since she was a literature major. "Asexual” is one of those terms I’ve heard, but didn’t really know anything about outside of what it meant.

This is where my almost-4-year sexuality crisis began. It has its issues, but I started my journey by reading up everything on Asexuality.org. EVERYTHING including the forums. Then I watched asexual TED talks (there’s one by the founder of Asexuality.org and another by a young person (sorry I can’t remember their pronouns) that are really good and informative) and YouTubers like Amelia Ace and Slice of Ace (Anthony Padilla actually has an interesting “I spent a day with” video with aces that I recommend, and youtuber Ash Hardell came out with a VERY good series I watched when I was learning about myself). Suddenly everything clicked. It was LITERALLY an “Oh.” moment. Then I learned about the split attraction model, which aces use to help clarify where they are on the spectrum, and about 2 years in, I suddenly realized that “Hmm.  I’ve always said I want to be with ‘some ONE’ not some man” so I had another long think, did more research, and thought yeah, you know what? I don’t care about the gender presentation of who I end up with, as long as we’re happy and we enjoy each other’s lives.” So yeah that was a bit of a surprise to me. 

Then I met other asexuals at 221B con.That was what sealed it for me: their advice and help and just genuine kindness and understanding of how I feel. I’ve NEVER had anyone say “yeah, I feel that way too!”, rather than “I just don’t understand how you can’t want sex. Everyone wants sex!”.

So now, I’m 2 years “out” to my online friends, I’m glad I’m not broken anymore, but let me tell you, it’s a fucking scary thing to go through at 34. 

I still am not publicly out, but I don’t make it a secret that I go to Pride week and I support LGBT causes. And I never leave home anyway, and will probably be alone the rest of my life, but I feel at peace with myself, you know? Just simply KNOWING that I’m NOT broken is a fucking weight off my shoulders.

I know the running joke in the fandom is that “Sherlock Fandom Made Me Gay”, but honestly, there is a grain of truth in it. A lot of us just... don’t KNOW until we’re around other queer people. Which I wasn’t ever UNTIL I came here AND moved to a very liberal city. Everyone was very understanding and helpful, and in turn and in thanks, I was able to also help other lovelies who, like me, didn’t know and were scared.

So yeah, Lovely, for me it was a sense of “something’s different, but I’m not sure what”. And then a lot of research. I knew I wasn’t aromantic because I do desire and crave romance probably in the same way allosexual people crave sex... I wouldn’t know, I’ve never craved it, LOL. 

Personally, I encourage everyone to just have a period of their lives where they learn about different sexualities and different types of romance. You always hear these stories about someone not knowing they were homoromantic until they had a roommate they fell in love with. One of my best friends found out he was trans in his mid-thirties... He just thought he was a tomboy who just... felt different. 

It’s a different experience for everyone, Rory, and one that only you can discover on your own. Read up information, watch YouTubers, go down the wikipedia rabbit hole, and talk to other people in the various communities. 

But let me tell you, Rory, remember this term: Split Attraction Model. Discovering this term helped me a lot on my ace journey. Remember Asexuality and Aromanticism are both very VERY wide spectrums and very VERY different things, and it’s going to take awhile to figure out where you belong. But once you do, I think you’ll be at peace. And it’s OKAY to not “settle” on a label. Please know that. Sexuality is fluid.

Good luck Lovely, and don’t hesitate to ask if you have any other questions. <3

[touchmycoat]

I LOVE YOUR PORN AU!!!!! LIKE SO MUCH - and i'm just. if you don't mind me asking, how - the way you flesh out the characters, their motivations, and feelings in every scene in such an eloquent way, and just little things here and there, a habit or an activity that adds dimension to who they are, and - your prose is wonderful. you achieve this addictive, engrossing narrative space that readers just absolutely melt into, and i have to ask - how did you develop your writing style? 1/2

what books did you read that formatively shaped the way you write? or you know, what did you do to improve your writing? i'm so in awe of how you world-built and established the porn au - like lqg & hc being national taolu champions?? how do you come up with that stuff? i cannot comprehend the amount of research and effort that must've gone into porn au, and i'm just so deeply thankful that you decided to share that with us. i apologize if i'm coming on too strong, but wow. thank you 2/2

--

oh my god please don't apologize, when i saw your ask i rolled on the floor giggling hysterically for a solid 15 min, bless your heart

part of the answer to your question—i've taken like, 8 years' worth of creative writing classes/workshops! there was also a transnational literary component to my degree so whenever possible, i took literature classes fksjdfksd so whatever you see and like is definitely the result of a lot of work. My writing from not even 10 years ago but like, 5? horrid, ridiculous, wild, cringe. The Porn AU itself is the second draft of a MUCH more lackluster piece.

about my writing style. gosh, you really know how to make a writer blush. "I like your writing style" is literally an instant kill LMFAO okay okay, the useful answer: my primary criteria for choosing what to write is, don't be obvious, be interesting. Fiction tells us to show, not tell, right? Poetry is about concretizing the abstract. Screenwriting says cut all useless lines. A lot of writing rules and advice—never start with the weather, avoid detailed descriptions of the characters, don't use adverbs, etc.—are all really about this exact sentiment.

I once took a seminar on writing for horror movies. The golden rule of the horror genre is Never Show the Monster, because whatever the audience is imagining is always going to be scarier than what you actually show them. There are obviously exceptions to this (to all writing rules), but in my mind, it's all the same principle.

LONG answer under the cut

So you start with building a scene. I approach it like essay-writing—I state my thesis for the motivations/main propulsion of the plot. "In this scene, LQG and SY are motivated to save Cang Qiong's porn production, so they have sex on camera." Then you build the sub-motivations: "LQG is also doing this because he's pining after SY."

I learned this "thesis-writing" from theater, specifically from writing 10-min plays. Theater is all about characters being driven by their wants and needs, and the reason I say 10-min plays in particular is because longer forms of writing will give you more leeway, but in 10-min, you pretty much need your character motivations established from their very first line. That's why you need that very clear thesis for yourself—if you don't even know what the character wants from the get-go, then you can't establish who they are, what they want, and where they're going to go in a dynamic and interesting way.

So this thesis drives EVERYTHING that happens in your scene, just like an actual thesis for an essay, just like topic sentences for your paragraphs. Once I do this, I have the emotional direction & narrative scope of how much this scene will cover, I have a sense of where it begins and ends. "Begin with the dynamics of their sex. LQG starts showing signs of his feelings. Reveal LQG backstory for exactly what those feelings are and why he isn't telling SY. The rest of the scene implies that LQG's feelings may not be so unrequited, but also sets up the fundamental problem at the heart of the whole fic—SY's inability to comprehend his own feelings." This is kind of my new thesis now. They're having sex; LQG pines; SY doesn't know he himself is pining.

Now it's time to manifest. This is the "storytelling" part, and the hardest lmfao.

Personally, my approach is largely shaped by my very cool screenwriting teacher, who hammered into us: don't fucking waste lines. The Golden Rule of screenwriting is that every line should reveal something new. I found my old writing kind of repetitive, especially on the emotional front, so this is kind of my editing mantra now—is this line either propelling the story or revealing character? If it's revealing character, is it a revelation that has to happen right now, or is it slowing the momentum of the scene?

But these aren't rhetorical questions! "Momentum" doesn't just mean tumble forward as fast as you can, it also means taking the time to draw the bowstring back further, so your next move has even more propulsion. That's why you get the little "LQG has been in love with SY..." cut scene in the middle of the fucking (at least, that's my reasoning for putting it there). Every line has to bring a fresh revelation that "proves" your thesis further.

That brings me to the details. You said you like the details I inject into the world-building, and honestly that's so gratifying to hear, because that means I'm successfully manifesting my intentions, y'know? "Every line has to bring new info" kind of sounds like a tall order, but the most effective way I've seen it done in books and onstage/onscreen is with these hyper-specific details. If you're writing a scene in which someone feels dirty, never have them just say that—have them say they want to take a shower. Show them running out of bleach again as they scrub down the stall after they wash. Begin the scene like "Steve always washes his throat first now." Then pack the scene with even more revelatory details: "Soap in hand, he heard the pipes above his head groan for a half note on adagio, and readied himself for the blast of icy water that always followed." Shitty shower, probably not rich, is likely a classical musician.

By the same token, I want to build LQG's character. The "Liu Qingge has been in love with Shen Yuan" section is the first insight we get into his background and perspective, right, so: I need to establish LQG's emotional context for filming this scene -> I can characterize him as a nut for martial arts in the same stroke -> so this takes place at a gym, beating up sandbags is a classic way of showing manly emotional distress -> so give me more details on this gym -> Puqi Gym, XL the martial god is obviously the owner -> how do I have XL & LQG a relationship beyond gym owner & client? They spar together -> I want XL & HC's position in this AU to mirror their god/ghost king statuses in TGCF canon -> how can I concretize their fighting prowesses in real-world details? -> they're martial arts champions -> what's an actual competitive martial art form that involves weaponry? -> wushu -> wikipedia Wushu, find taolu weapons sparring

(I just realized that in my songxiao daycare AU, Hualian are Olympic gold medalists by the same narrative logic laksjdnflaksjdnflsd)

So, that's the flow of logic behind my world-building lmao. It's all in the details. Leverage is one of my all-time favorite TV shows and the way they build their stories is super inspiring. If their thesis is "the rich and powerful take what they want, we steal it back for you," they manifest it in the most specific and concrete narratives: mine workers who like the work but are fighting for workplace safety vs. the money-grubbing mine owner who will blow up their livelihoods if it means a bigger payday; the little girl from Iraq with refugee status forced to be an accomplice to antique smuggling vs. international smuggler with a fetish for British royalty.

Last pieces of writing advice I've gotten: pay attention to the real world. A writing exercise we did was just sit in a public spot and make concrete observations on our surroundings. There are stories in everything!!! I learned to observe things like weird holes in the concrete (earthquake? drilling accident? bullet mark?), odd patches of moss or bird shit (look overheard: it's an AC unit dripping water for the former and nesting swallows for the latter), ladies in flipflops walking alongside ladies in high heels (excited mother walking her antsy daughter to the bus for the daughter's first job interview—the daughter's shirt collar is unfashionable and she's taking the bus, so there's a good chance the shoes were passed down, maybe from an office lady aunt. Maybe she's even overdressed for the interview, so will her outfit be an unintended source of tension once she gets to the interview? Is it a group interview, to make the comparison more stark?).

Also, write what you know. You know why SY is a video editor in porn AU? Because I'm a video editor. One of my more popular MDZS fics is set in a plant shop 'cause I worked in a plant shop. SL was First AD in Bachelor!AU 'cause I was First AD on a set once. Concrete details like the editing software having a split-screen, always answering questions about how often to water plants, and being up until 3AM editing call-sheets are the ones that will fully immerse your readers.

And if you can't do the actual things, just watch someone who is, listen to them talk, pick up lingo, and fake it. I watched like a 15-min vox video on fencing for the fencing!AU and a 45-min music theory video on the hospital pianist!AU (also I started learning piano sklfjnlsdjlfkjsd). Of course, I just finished reading a wangxian fic that had me going, "holy fucking shit, the author is literally getting their masters in a music program" so my 45-min youtube video ain't shit, but if you just need a little bit of character establishment, then it's enough to do the trick.

Anyways, tl;dr. Find the details, find the tension. Never tell outright what the tension is supposed to be, manifest it instead. Make the manifestation as interesting as possible, and if it's meant to be funny, make it funnier.

Sorry this turned into a fucking lecture lskjnflskdjnflskd but last thing, someone asked me before if I had formative authors, and this was the list I wrote at the time:

Angels in America (play) by Tony Kushner

The God of Small Things (novel) by Arundhati Roy

The Penelopiad (novel) by Margaret Atwood

“Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out” (poem) by Richard Siken

Night Sky with Exit Wounds (poetry) by Ocean Vuong

Giovanni’s Room (novel) by James Baldwin (and then Go Tell it on the Mountain and then his essays)

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

And, ooh, now that I have this list I think I can even roughly sort it as such: Kushner, Atwood, Siken, and Salinger I really latched onto for their dialogue and very present narrator voice—same is true for Go Tell it on the Mountain. Roy, Vuong, and Giovanni’s Room, I think, are texts more representative of the kind of saturated figurative language I like, and emulate. Of course they all do imagery and voice and overall structure amazingly, but that’s the rough dividing line I’d draw.

But yeah James Baldwin is my fucking hero.

[gaylotusthatexists]

may i have one 'shot with an arrow" with intrulogical, please?

hunting

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: intrulogical 

prompt: shot with an arrow

trigger warnings: morally grey/sympathetic remus, weapons, animal death, blood mention, injury mention

word count: 2391

a/n: hey!!! it's been a while since i posted anything for the @badthingshappenbingo but! i'm back babey, here we go! thank u for requesting this friendo u know how much of a slut i am for intrulogical. 

ao3

The one thing that Logan hadn't expected today was for Remus to break down his door and drag him out to the Imagination, very much against Logan's will. Logan supposed he didn't have an excuse to get out of it, though - he was ahead of schedule in doing his jobs for Thomas, and had actually allocated that day to rest, perhaps to read a few astrology books from the steadily increasing pile on the corner of his desk. However, those plans were soon thwarted as Remus explained his own plans.

Logan somewhat got along with Remus, unlike the other light sides, although he'd never thought that he would ever be Remus' first choice to play around with - or 'torment', as Remus liked to put it, although Logan knew that was just his way of showing affection. Apparently, Janus had been busy that day - something about Thomas working too hard lately, the two of them were having a 'self care day' according to Remus - which meant that Remus had come to Logan instead. Which would usually be fine - Remus often came to 'hang out' with Logan, although that usually consisted of Remus ranting at him whilst Logan worked. This was the first time that Remus had taken Logan into the Imagination.

"Might I inquire what we are actually doing here?" Logan asked, calmly walking alongside a bouncy Remus through the Dark Forest.

"I was bored," Remus said.

Logan sighed. "Yes, Remus, I'm quite aware of that. But that doesn't explain why I am here, or what activities you have in store for us."

"Basically, I was reading The Hunger Games last night-"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You can read?"

Ignoring Logan's statement but throwing him a glare, Remus continued, "-and I wanna learn archery. And maybe go hunting. So I made an archery range to practise!"

Logan breathed in. "Is that safe?"

"Who cares about safety?"

"I care about safety."

"Well, you're a nerd-"

"I'd just prefer not to die."

"Boring."

Logan sighed. "Please just tell me it's safe."

"Yeah, sure, it's safe or whatever." Remus grinned. "You'll like it, though!"

Logan nodded. "Sure." Over the years, he'd found that it was better to just agree with Remus.

Eventually, the two came across an archery range, where two targets, two bows and several arrows were waiting. One bow had been painted a sickening shade of green and decorated with tiny tentacles, and the other had been painted a solid dark blue, with some white lines dotted around. Logan hummed.

"Did you make these yourself?" he asked, as Remus picked up the green bow and got himself into position.

"Yeah. I didn't sleep last night."

Logan frowned. "Remus, sleep is important, you shouldn't be skipping out on that just to paint something."

"You can't say anything, I know you stayed up late last night reading Sherlock for the hundredth time."

"That's only because I don't have time to read it during the-" He paused. "Wait, how do you know what I doing last night?"

Remus shrugged. He hooked an arrow onto the string and pulled back, sending it flying into the air. It flew straight over the target, landing on the ground a few metres behind the targets.

Logan sighed. "Remus, if you're going to shoot an arrow, at least aim." He stepped towards Remus, as Remus went to get another arrow. "Oh, Lord, you're not even holding it correctly. Here-" He reached up and moved Remus' fingers so one was above the arrow and two below, then fixed his grip on the bow itself. "Alright, now pull to your cheek, try to centre the arrow on the target, and-"

Remus shot the arrow, landing straight on the target. A little off centre, in the red section, but still a pretty good shot. Remus grinned in excitement and immediately went to get another arrow, taking another shot. This time, the arrow bounced off the board, landing in the ground below. Remus pouted.

Logan chuckled lightly. "You need to keep up your technique with every shot, Remus. Don't loosen your grip."

"You're such a nerd, Logan," Remus said, taking another shot and this time getting closer to the bullseye. "How come you know how archery works?"

Logan didn't want to tell Remus about his three am Wikipedia trips learning about subjects that had never particularly interested him but sure were fascinating when he had nothing else to be thinking about, or didn't want to go to sleep, so instead he grabbed his own bow and took a few shots himself, all landing pretty close to the bullseye, one only just off the centre. Remus turned to him, admiration in his eyes.

"I take back what I said about you being a nerd, that was so cool."

Logan gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the fact he was blushing a little. "Well, you're doing a good job yourself, as well."

Remus grabbed his hand and began to run off, dragging Logan with him. "C'mon! We can go hunt real things now-"

"Remus, I don't think-"

Remus shushed him and continued running, deeper into the Dark Forest. He summoned a quiver around his own shoulder and one around Logan's, filled with a never ending supply of arrows. It didn't seem like Logan would be able to get out of this.

Eventually, they stopped as they came across a clearing, with a few deer standing around. Remus ducked under a bush, dragging Logan with him.

"Try to hit that one," Remus whispered, pointing to a large one in the middle.

Logan sighed. "Do I have to? They're deers. They haven't done anything to us."

"They aren't real deers, Logan. They'll be fine. This is just for fun."

Logan breathed in. "Alright." He hooked an arrow onto his bow and aimed towards the deer, trying to keep his breath steady as he released it and watched the arrow soar through the sky, hitting the deers shoulder. It cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor, the other deers running away. Logan couldn't help but feel a little sad.

But Remus was smiling so much, and Logan did like seeing him happy. "You did it!" He exclaimed, jumping out of the bush. He clicked his fingers and the deer came back to life, looking a little confused but beginning to wander around the forest again, the arrow previously stuck in its back disappearing. "C'mon, let's go find more things to kill!"

The two began to walk through the forest now, falling into a comfortable silence as they looked around for their next prey. Logan had to admit that he was... somewhat enjoying this. The forest was a fairly pleasant place to be - being surrounded by nature was calming in a sense, and seeing the various creatures that Remus choose as his targets was actually quite interesting, some of these creatures Logan had never seen up close before and it was certainly an eye opening experience. Of course, he would have much preferred seeing the animals in a context where he wasn't killing them, but still, it was an enjoyable enough experience.

And there was something about Remus' forest that made Logan want to explore even more. He very rarely came to the Imagination, usually only popping in to check on Roman in times where Patton was unavailable, but he had never come to the Dark Imagination. He'd been expecting something a little more... dark, to put things simply, although what he'd been met with was a pretty realistic forest, with a scientifically accurate ecosystem, hardly any nonsense (asides from Remus' apparent ability to revive dead fauna). It was a stark difference from the Light Forest, with danger at every turn and a hundred different species that Logan was a hundred percent certain did not exist in real life, or should even exist in the realm of fiction.

This forest was nice, though. Logan was half tempted to come back here alone at some point, it seemed like an alright place to carry out some research, perhaps a little camping trip would do him some good. He could almost imagine it, a little tent by that stream over there, the berries on that bush didn't appear to be poisonous, there was a family of deer just beyond the stream that he could work with...

"Logan, duck!" Remus shouted, from behind him.

"Duck?" Logan spun around to face Remus, then looked around the area for this supposed duck. "Where?" He failed to notice the arrow quickly flying towards him, and the look of horror on Remus' face as the arrow pierced through Logan's chest.

Or rather, he noticed it a little too late. Logan glanced down at the arrow lodged quite a bit into his skin, looked at the blood beginning to soak through his shirt, and promptly began to freak out. On the outside he tried to maintain a composed look, but on the inside his mind was screaming and he was fairly certain that he was about to die. Well, logically he knew that he couldn't die, and even if he did Remus could just bring him back to life, but damn he had never felt this much pain in his life-

Pain. Pain. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt. He felt himself fall to his knees as all his limbs began to ache, the sharp pain extending from his chest and spreading across his entire body. He felt tears prick at his eyes and his vision become blurry - or was that just his glasses falling off, or- no, no, everything was growing dark as well, and he could feel the blood dripping down his skin, finding it harder and harder to breath.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, pulling him up and reaching around the arrow.

"No!" Logan exclaimed, wincing at the sudden movement as he twisted his body to face Remus, a look of panic spread across his face.

"Logan, you-"

"Taking-" He took a gulp of air. "Taking it out will make it worse."

"Are- Are you okay?" Remus asked, gently.

"Yes, Remus, I'm doing just great, it's not as if I have a fucking arrow in my chest."

"Okay, okay, that was a dumb question, I'm sorry, I-" Remus breathed in. "If I'm not allowed to take it out, what are we supposed to do?"

Logan bounced his leg up and down, trying to get his thoughts straight and to push the pain down. "I don't know, this is your imagination, can't you get it to go away or something?" Remus' various weapons never usually hurt Logan when he was hit by them, Remus could never usually affect him, why was it different here?

"It's not my imagination, it's Thomas', I-"

"You fixed those animals earlier, can't you-"

"They weren't real, Logan-"

"So? I'm not real either."

"You're real to Thomas."

"Just do something," Logan snapped, getting increasingly frustrated with their back and forth.

Remus glanced around the forest for a second, trying to figure out his next move, before snapping his fingers and picking Logan up. A building had opened up in front of them, some sort of Medieval-style hospital, or... no, more like a witches hut. As he was carried inside, Logan glanced around to take everything in, another attempt to distract himself from the pain. There were bottles of various coloured liquids lining the walls, along with more modern looking medical supplies on tables, and a bed in the far side where Remus went to place Logan down. A woman came out and began to treat Logan's wound, carefully taking out the arrow and rubbing various liquids into it until the pain had soothed just a little. She then wrapped a bandage around Logan's chest, a little too tight for comfort but it kept the blood in, at least. The entire time, Remus held his hand, squeezing it in a comforting manner.

Eventually, the woman disappeared, and Logan's vision slowly return to normal. The pain was still there, but a lot better, and he could breathe much, much better now. After a long silence, he looked up at Remus, frowning at the tears staining his cheeks.

"Remus, are you-"

"I'm so sorry," Remus choked out, squeezing Logan's hand tighter. "I didn't- I didn't realise-"

"There's no need to be sorry, Remus," Logan said, calmly. Inside he was anything but calm, but he needed Remus to know that he wasn't mad at him. "I'm actually rather proud of you, that was quite an impressive shot, considering earlier today you could hardly hit a target-"

"Now isn't the time to compliment me, Logan, you could have died, I almost killed you!"

"I seriously doubt that I would have died," Logan said. "I don't believe it's possible for me to die, being a figment of Thomas' imagination and all-"

"That isn't the point." Remus was crying again. Logan couldn't quite figure out why. "I- I was worried, what if-"

"Why would you be worried about me?" Logan asked, genuinely confused.

"I fucking care about you, Logan, why wouldn't I be worried about someone I care for almost dying?"

Logan blinked. "You... care about me?"

"Of course I do, why would you think I don't?"

"I- I don't know." Logan hummed. "I mean, you hit me with all those weapons daily, and I know it never really affects me but it doesn't exactly scream 'friendship'. I was under the impression that you didn't care about anyone, actually."

Remus collapsed onto him, hugging him tightly. Logan tried not to wince at the sudden pressure, and instead awkwardly patted Remus on the back. "Well, I care about you. Don't scare me like that again."

"I mean, you're the one who hit me in the first place-"

Remus shushed him. Logan sighed, sitting up in the bed and pulled Remus into a proper hug, to which Remus' eyes lit up.

"Maybe we should stop with the archery," Logan suggested.

Remus snorted. "Yeah, okay, in hindsight, it wasn't really a good idea."

Logan smiled. "I did have fun, though."

Remus gasped. "Really?"

"Of course."

Remus hugged even tighter. Logan planted a small kiss on Remus' forehead, and then allowed Remus to sink into his body, as Logan tightened his own grip around Remus as well. The two refused to ever let go.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Supers and the Not

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Okay. The original request was for Cyborg!Jimin, but I made a few tweaks. I’ve been recently intrigued by this Stephen Hawking excerpt, where he warns about the future of designer genetics v. humanity. So.... Jimin is not a cyborg, but a genetically engineered superhuman. AND, GO. (OH, + this dialogue: “Are you warm enough?”)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 3,637

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The term superhuman has held many meanings throughout history.

In comic books, superhumans are superheroes. They are beings who use their powers for good, who protect society from unnatural adversaries. The term has changed greatly since then. When science grew bolder and human curiosity surged, the word superhuman began to transform. It became a label; one which separated a new category of human from old.

The supers from the not.

Back in the old days, designer babies (as they were called) were edited merely for defects. Scientists easily identified potential genetic diseases like sickle-cell or Huntington’s, sending in nanotech to modify and fix the code. Obviously, there was debate around this and obviously, humans were wary – but the benefits were proven to outweigh the cost.

Scientists did not stop there. No longer did they research disease, but the human psyche itself. As the map of human DNA filled in its corners, their research became riskier, more complicated and far more exciting. Once all human defects were eliminated, what else remained but the good traits?

Good traits – which could become great.

The first superhumans were not called super. Super was a nickname generated by an overenthusiastic media before they grasped what their existence truly meant. The supers were a class of human beings all on their own – able to see further, hear better, run faster. They were taller, more beautiful and far more intelligent. This was the real kicker – humans have survived extinction based on their wit alone. The appearance of supers meant regular humans could no longer compete.

The so-called supers were turned against the not.

You are not super. Your parents could not afford you to be. While many your age were conceived in a tube; their embryos tested, operated on and perfected; you were conceived the old-fashioned way, with a virtual roll of the dice.

Still, you have always done well for yourself. In a world where you were born at a natural disadvantage, you have always managed to survive. Survival is truly the best-case scenario given your circumstances. Always, you have harbored the unique ability to assess a situation, determine its risks and choose the right outcome. Some call it luck, others skill, but you know it for what it truly is – the only option.

Take now, for instance.

Currently you sit in a white, pristine lobby on a white, pristine couch in front of a white, pristine receptionist. She keeps glancing your way, wrinkling her nose as though you have a strange smell. Warily, you shift in your seat and wonder if somehow you do. Maybe her sense of smell is so acute she can pick up on an aroma you cannot.

Or maybe she is only an ass. This option seems more likely to you.

When the door to the waiting room swings open, you look up. A woman holds it ajar with her hip, checking the hologram hovering above her wrist. 

“Y/N?” she asks, sounding utterly bored.

“That’s me,” you say, rising to your feet.

Swiftly, she looks your way and wrinkles her nose. “Follow me.”

She turns, the door nearly falling shut behind her. You are forced to run in order to catch it, barely grasping its edge before it closes on your hand. From behind you, the receptionist snickers and, glowering, you step through the door. The hallway beyond it is equally pristine and white.

The assistant is already halfway down the hall.

“So,” you pant, practically jogging to keep up with her stride. “The ad didn’t mention what specifically I would be doing. Do you have an overview?”

For the first time since meeting, the woman smiles. Paused in the middle of the hall, she looks at you as though you are something to be pitied and you repress the urge to slap the look from her face.

“And yet you still answered the ad. Most peculiar.”

Drawing yourself to your full height – which is still several centimeters below hers – you glare. “As though I have a choice,” you say coldly. “There aren’t many jobs left which accept normals.”

“Pity.”

She walks past you, opening a doorway you had not yet noticed. The seams of it blend into the wall, barely even noticeable unless you have super vision. The room beyond seems darker than the hall. Finally, the walls surrounding you are not white – it takes you a second to adjust to the lighting.

“He’s waiting,” the assistant says, as though you are a gigantic waste of her time. Maybe you are.

Walking forward, you hear the door fall shut behind you. The new room is utterly silent, nothing to be heard but the sound of your breathing – and his. Your potential employer stands behind a large desk, as though this were a formal gathering of businessmen, and not a rather sketchy job interview.

Fuck, supers are beautiful. 

It is hard not to be dazzled by his outward appearance. A sculpted jawline, bright gaze and sharp nose – standing before him, you feel rather meek in comparison. Before you can speak, the man clears his throat.

“Sit,” he says, waving at the chair opposite. “Please, Y/N, sit. Are you warm enough? Sometimes the temperature of this room is far too cold.”

Of course, he would need confirmation of this. Most supers can sustain greater temperature fluctuations than normals. It is one of their many improvements.

Warily, you take a step closer. “You know my name.”

He smiles politely. “You did fill out an application, you know.”

“I know.” Stiffly, you pull the chair back to sit.

Silence stretches between you, both of you staring and trying not break first. Finally, he speaks. 

“How silly of me.” Chuckling good-naturedly, the man ducks his head. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Park Jimin, but you may call me Jimin.”

“Most supers prefer to be addressed by their surname.”

Jimin’s smile falters. “Yes, well… Ah. All the same, I prefer to be called Jimin.”

“Alright.” You say this as though it is neither here nor there. “Jimin, it is.”

“Wonderful.” Jimin flicks a hand over his desk. A blue hologram appears. “Down to business, then. You’re probably wondering why my ad was so cryptic.”

Uncaring, you shrug. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Jimin pauses. “That would have been my first question.”

He seems genuinely curious and in response, your gaze narrows. The underlying implication is obvious – you normals do not think things through before acting. Not in the same way they do. Normal thought is somehow ages behind that of the supers.

Gritting your teeth, you lean forward. “The ad didn’t surprise me because, based on prior experience, supers tend to be vague about illegal requests.”

Jimin’s cheeks color. Slowly, he lowers his hand and the blue hologram fades. “I see.” Quickly, he glances at the door you entered from. “You’ve answered this kind of ad often, then.”

“Not a question.”

“No, merely an observation.” His gaze becomes shrewd. “I can see you don’t trust me.”

Not wishing to implicate yourself any further, you remain silent.

Jimin arches a brow. “Well, do you?”

“No,” you say simply. “I do not.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. My kind can be… well, cruel to yours.”

Again, you say nothing. Part of survival is knowing when to hold your tongue. Part of survival is knowing when to play the part of the lower, sub-species and when to let them know you understand.

“I need you to trust me, though,” Jimin says quietly. “I need you to trust me, since I’m going to be very, very honest with you.”

Despite your best interest, his words pique your curiosity. Supers do not often care about honesty. 

“It will be difficult to undo years of training,” you note.

Jimin laughs. The noise escapes before he can help it. “Yes,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose so. Perhaps it would be good, then to tell you who I am.”

“You’re Park Jimin. You’re a super.”

His eyes are dark brown with flecks of gold at the center. The effect inspires warmness, emotion and you trust absolutely none of it. Everything about this man is designed to draw people in. Idly, you wonder how much his father paid for it.

“True,” Jimin says. “But I am also Park Jimin, of Park Enterprises.” Launching into what can only be assumed to be his Wikipedia biography, he continues, “My father is Park Jiwoo, researcher and entrepreneur. I have no siblings. I am 169 cm tall, which is considered below average for a super and I –”

“Okay, none of that matters to me,” you interrupt, waving your hand. Jimin ceases talking immediately, blinking owlishly and you wonder if this is the first time he has been interrupted. “God,” you groan, slouching low in your seat. “You supers are all the same, aren’t you? Listing facts and figures like that’s all people care about.”

Jimin bristles. “That is what most people care about.”

“Not normals,” you say, softening a tad. “Not humans, really. Tell me something different. Tell me something personal.”

The blue light from his desk makes him seem almost haunted. Likely, the lights in his room are intelligent; designed to reflect his mood and adjust appropriately. You wonder what they glean from him now, since he seems stressed in your gaze. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his grip tense on the table before him. Uneasily, you wonder what a super could have to be worried about.

“I don’t really know what you mean.” His brow puckers. “Do you want my government ID number, or something? That’s personal.”

“God, no,” you choke out, trying hard not to laugh. “If you gave me that, they’d just think I stole it.”

His lips lift in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, they would.”

“I know I’m right. I want something different. I want to hear about…” Glancing around, you wonder what could possibly make you trust this man. What could possibly make you relate to this super. There are photographs on his desk – a family photo, which is interesting. Looking up, you meet Jimin’s gaze. “Tell me the last time you cried.”

“The last time I… cried?”

“Or, can you not?” Politely, you cross one knee over the other. “Are you supers so far removed from humanity that you no longer feel? Were your tear ducts removed along with your defects?”

“I can still cry,” Jimin mutters, gaze heated.

“Then, prove it. Tell me.”

Slowly, he leans back in his seat. “Last Thursday. 10:12 AM.”

“And what happened to make you cry?”

“I learned information which scared me.”

His honesty catches you off guard. Either Park Jimin is a very good actor, or he is telling the truth. He truly does look fearful, which does not bode well for you. Fearful people tend to make bad decisions – and fearful supers tend to make cataclysmic ones.

“What information?”

Jimin shakes his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that. Not without you trusting me. Not without me trusting you.”

“Then, trust me.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Jimin slowly exhales. “Meeting you like this goes against everything I stand for. There are so many things which could go wrong... I have done the probability calculations over and over – twice while we were sitting here – and it is ludicrous to think I might find the solution, when –”

“Jimin.” Quietly, you interrupt.

He pauses before he looks up.

You meet his gaze. “Why am I here?”

Jimin’s expression morphs from stoic to helpless. “Because... you’re normal.”

“And?”

“And,” Jimin says, closing his eyes. “That means you are immune to the problem.”

The way he says problem sends a chill down your spine. He speaks as though he has exhausted every option and this is his last resort – and likely, you are. That is what tends to come from meetings like this.

This is not your first meeting from an unlisted number. This is not your first interaction where a person has disguised their voice while answering the phone. It isn’t your first time meeting someone in an unknown location and receiving details of a task said person needed performed. 

You do what you must. You receive payment. You survive.

This seems different, though – Jimin seems different.

With his eyes closed, Jimin looks almost human. You suppose that he is, but not in the same way you are. His skin is flawless, the milk of it dusted with blue veins and dark lashes. When he opens his eyes, you expect the illusion of his beauty to fade. It does not.

“What’s the problem?” you say, pushing these distracting thoughts aside.

“It’s easier… if I show you.” Reluctantly, Jimin reaches out to pull up a hologram. Blue strands of DNA twist before you in mid-air. “There have been many accepted edits of the human genome. Some are more progressive than others. The ampliointelligens procedure, for example, is the most widely known. It is where –”

“A person’s intelligence is increased,” you interrupt, bored. “I know. It’s Latin.”

Jimin quickly covers his surprise. “Of course. Anyways, the procedure was considered the first of the… super procedures. The ones which diverted from genetic correction to genetic improvement. And, as with any new field… there were errors.”

“Errors?”

This fact is news to you – nothing about mistakes was reported to the public, which explains Jimin’s trepidation on the matter. In the entire history of the supers, there has never once been any admittance of error. Their strength is their narrative, after all. The supers deserve their positions, their wealth and their influence because they are better. Because they can foresee things normal humans cannot. All of this fails to be relevant if they are proven to be imperfect.

“The concept of intelligence.” Jimin uses air quotes on the word. “Is hard to understand and even harder to change. Gene editing is simple. Take something like Huntington’s disease – we know the genetic defect which causes it. We can simply screen the DNA, cut out the harmful bit and replace it. That’s an over-simplification of the procedure of course, but – there’s low risk of something going wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“However, with something like intelligence… there’s still debate about which portions of the human genome are the most impactful. There are several accepted versions of the ampliointelligens procedure because of this disagreement.”

Hearing him say this, you blink. Again, this is news not known to the general public and you wonder why Jimin is telling you this – any one of these tidbits would be worth a fortune if the supers have covered them up for so long.

The surprise on your face must be obvious, because Jimin then sighs. “The variables increase with intelligence. There isn’t one DNA strand to consider, but millions. Trillions. Each tweak a surgeon makes has far-reaching repercussions; ones which geneticists admitted were impossible to know definitively at the time. And yet…”

“And yet, people underwent the procedure.”

“People were greedy. They are greedy,” Jimin corrects with a tick to his jaw. “Once a reasonable procedure was created, people wanted it – no matter the cost, no matter the risk. If there was a chance their children could be super, they took it.”

You notice Jimin says the word super with a bitterness usually reserved by your kind. This surprises you, if nothing else. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he is any more than you do.

“So.” You tap your fingers against your knee. “Back to the problem you mentioned.”

You assume this problem is why you’ve been asked here. There’s something Jimin needs and the sooner he asks it of you, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you can cease sitting before him, becoming oddly charmed by a man you despise.

He nods. “We’ve known about a mutation for years, but it has recently transformed into something insidious. One of the ampliointelligens procedures is the cause of this mutation. The DNA edit takes over, it spirals out of control and overpowers the human ability to empathize. This leads to rash decision-making, high levels of narcissism and the inability to relate to others. It can be… crippling.”

“Narcissistic and unable to relate?” Pressing your lips together, you keep them from twitching. “However will you separate them from the rest of the supers?”

“It isn’t the same,” Jimin says, a bit heated. “Supers can empathize, even if they place less value upon emotion than normals do. Supers still factor in an emotional response.”

“How noble.”

“You don’t understand.” Jimin leans forward. “Those afflicted by the mutation are incapable of decision-making – and what’s worse, they control every major resource in the country. Yes,” he says, spotting the look on your face. “The problem is bigger than just supers versus normals. If this disease spirals out of control, there won’t be a world left to save.”

“Is that what you intend to do?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Save the world?”

“I intend to try,” Jimin says quietly.

Maybe it’s this that convinces to you how serious this is. Jimin stares, brow furrowed, and you get the idea he doesn’t lie very often. Slowly, you tilt your head and observe him.

“How many?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“How many supers are afflicted?”

Staring at you, Jimin seems to sag in his seat. If he had a glass of alcohol in his hand, you imagine he would drink it. 

“About half the existing supers underwent the affected procedure,” he admits. “And it does not seem to be a question of if, but of when.”

“Oh.”

“Take my father, for instance,” Jimin continues, not looking away. “He began to exhibit symptoms last Thursday morning. I, on the other hand, have yet to show any.”

“How…” You pause, licking your lips. “If the procedure is as certain as you say, how does the public not yet know? How has it been kept quiet so far?”

“Those in power have methods of silencing.”

Not wanting to know more than that, you glance away. “I take it you think these methods will not remain effective for much longer?”

“I do not.”

“So, then why am I…” Glancing sharply upwards, understanding dawns. “You want me to be your guinea pig. You want to perform experiments on me because I’m immune. Because I’m normal.”

“Lord, no.” Jimin winces. “At least – not in the manner you speak of. I would like to compare samples of our DNA, yes. I’d like intelligence testing, brain scans – all of that would be on the table, but what I need you for most is observation.”

“Observation. Like, me in a glass room and a strait jacket?”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. I need you to observe me.”

“You?” 

“Like I said.” A sliver of desperation seeps into his tone. “I have no idea when my mind won’t be… my own. I’m seeing firsthand how my father has changed. I need someone neutral – someone not prone to the problem themselves – to weigh in.”

“And that person… is me?”

“Based on this meeting, I think so.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Y/N, has your intelligence ever been tested?”

“Are you serious? Intelligence testing is reserved for supers. Surely, you know that. Normals have no need to be tested.”

“And yet,” Jimin says calmly. “Since you entered this room, you’ve corrected me multiple times, synthesized complicated arguments and even translated Latin to English. Whatever you are,” he says, leaning forward. “It is more than what you let on.”

He sounds so self-assured in this statement, you almost believe him. Pushing the idea away, you glance at the door and gather your thoughts. No matter what choice you make, there’s no good way out. You were stuck from the moment you agreed to this meeting. Jimin has revealed too much to you – and yes, information is power, but not the kind that you hold.

Knowing weaknesses about the supers places a target on your back. Slowly, you return to him. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you say softly. “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’ll just send people after me when I leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Why not? I would, if I were you.”

“Because.” There’s something hard, something unreadable to his gaze. “I really need you to trust me.”

Variables flash through your mind, a fight or flight instinct warring in your bones. Eventually, you ignore all of it and instead, listen to the voice which whispers in the back of your mind. 

“Find,” you say slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Jimin sags into his chair. “Thank the fucking gods.” He sighs. “I didn’t really have a Plan B.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I’m afraid this is my final resort.”

“Then, why –”

“I think that’s enough chit-chat for today.” Pushing back his chair, Jimin stands from his desk. Pressing a button on the side, a noise buzzes in the hall. “I think it’s time you reviewed the terms of the contract. One of my assistants will show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms?” 

Without thinking, you stand as well.

“Of course,” Jimin shrugs. “You’ll be staying with me for the duration of the work period. Everything is outlined in the contract – which you will have until the end of this week to make amendments to. Will that be that satisfactory?”

“I…” Blinking at him, your mind reels. “Yes.”

“Good.” 

Clasping both hands before him, Jimin morphs back into the image of super. Banished is the distressed man you saw briefly but still, he lingers around the edges. 

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” he says quietly.

The door opens to reveal the tall assistant from earlier. She glances in surprise from you to Jimin, as though she did not expect you to stay.

Seeing her reaction, your smile broadens. “I look forward to working with you, too, Jimin,” you announce, walking towards the door.

It is mainly for the benefit of the assistant, but you cannot help but realize there is some truth to the words. Despite all you have said, that voice still exists deep within you. The one which usually warns you of danger is unusually silent in his presence. This unsettles you for a moment and then you walk past, stepping into the hall.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[tonyglowheart]

I have to ask, since I feel like you may have used "fandom wank" as a tag deliberately ... what are your thoughts on yaoi?

I think it’s very delightful? idk ya gotta give me a bit more to work with here anon

okay almost posted this as is but then my braincell skidding across this ask crashed into the next one and I started having some thoughts.

So I’m hardly the end-all be-all on this topic and honestly I’m hardly an expert or even necessarily well-read on, like, all of the scholarship. But what I have done, is done a cursory search beyond cherry picking individual sections of a wikipedia page, and also read a lot of threads by Jpn ppl about BL & fujoshi, as well as my own opinions formed from my experiences reading yaoi/BL and also being a part of the m/m romance community on Goodreads (essentially the indie-pubbed community).

Yaoi itself, tho it’s become a sort of “blanket” term as far as EN/Western side uses it, actually refers to a genre more akin to “PWP” - so accusations of it being shallow or whatever are... kind of dumb, in that context. Beyond that - and I know I linked to a Quora, but you can search up the papers by Mizoguchi Akiko-san which the answerer cites - one of the things that struck me about what the answerer said was pt 3), about control, and how in the context of yaoi/BL being a “safe place” for women to explore explicit material that doesn’t put a “target” on them as being perceived as “accessible” the way that like hentai would, this sets up yaoi as a space wherein the reader can explore dynamics which they may not be able to so easily access or explore in real life. Another interesting (to me) point highlighted here is how relational the approach to interpersonal dynamics are. Whereas (generally speaking) in Western Anglophone cultures you have more emphasis on the individual, as opposed to how your standing relates to someone else and the accompanying power differentials, Jpn culture, being what one might generalize to call a “collectivist” culture, has more emphasis on the dynamics between ppl, in terms of conceptualizing relationships. So then in addition to a place to explore fantasies (which you see in Anglophone fiction too... like it’s not just a “weird depraved thing” of Jpn culture) which one would not enact in real life such as the rape fantasy, this space also lets yaoi-readers explore a power dynamic that might be difficult to access or inaccessible to them irl, or might be an action they would not enact in real life.

Speaking on the rape fantasy itself, there’s... definitely a lot of discourse around it and stuff and whether it is wholesale morally objectionable and should or should not be allowed, and whether or not it is antifeminist or whatever, but one thing I remember from all of the discourse is that rape fantasies are NOT the same as irl rape and in fact the power to control the fantasy still exists with the person having the fantasy.

Plus also..... tying this back to my salt about what set this off (it was ppl calling the incense burner extra “rape” full stop lmao), this is another case of like..... reading comprehension...? because like individually you maybe don’t like them, which is fine that’s valid! but that doesn’t mean it IS the wholesale Extra Objectionable content you think it is. The whole “MDZS is rapey/yaoi tropes” is liked a tied up mess of “it’s not as “rapey” or “yaoi” as you apparently think it is, the text does not bear that out” and also “I would like you to challenge your pre-conceptions of why “yaoi” is “bad” and especially would like to invite you to like... study the context of yaoi a bit more before passing judgment. Imo the argument of “well it’s taken to mean something else in EN-spaces-” is absolutely invalid. Of course it can/should be addressed, but I do not think we should perpetuate colonialist/Western cultural imperialist tendencies with no self-reflection or criticism.

Ultimately my deal is: please do your own research into the *actual* meanings and context of these words and concepts, and read info from the ppl who created or are creating in the genre, and talk to people of the source culture ESPECIALLY ppl from the in-group of the subculture, before passing judgment. 

[jane-fucking-seymour]

Making It Up as I Go Along

Another from the archives.

Jane Seymour had been a mother for twelve days.

She had wished on all the stars that it had been longer.

Most of that, she doesn’t remember: she was in bed, sick and dying. Infection, she later found out. 

All she remembers is pain.

Regardless, the main point is that Jane Seymour had no idea how to be a mother. The others had more time with their children - or one of the other’s, in the case of Parr - and Jane simply didn’t. She didn’t think she was ever going to regardless of the time period she was in, either; it just didn’t sit right with her, having a child now. Not when she’s back for another reason.

That all changed, however, a few weeks into rehearsals.

At first, it’s just small things: asking Katherine about her day, telling her to put a jacket on, general caring things she’d say to any of the girls. The two of them got along well enough already, already pretty good friends.

It was at night when Jane heard Katherine sobbing that Seymour started to realize how she felt about Katherine.

Jane had been headed back to her room when she stopped at Katherine’s door; a weird sound had made her do so. It was soft sobs, she realized, and instantly she’s knocking gently on the door.

“Katherine? It’s Jane. I… can I come in?” she asks quietly. When she hears a small sound of approval, she enters slowly.

There, Katherine is curled up on the bed, knees to her chest, trying to breathe.

Jane quickly moves over to the small girl and kneels down in front of her.

“Hello,” Jane says, giving her a soft smile. “Did you have a nightmare?” 

Katherine nods, which makes Jane nod right back.

“Alright then. Let’s…”

She trails off. What exactly is she supposed to do here? 

It takes a moment, but she stands back up and sits next to Howard, arms outstretched. She hesitates, but Kat is eventually in for a hug. Jane tries to help calm her down, but not much does. 

Jane doesn’t know what to do.

“How are-” she starts, but then Katherine pulls back, still sniffling.

“I’m okay now,” she says. She’s clearly not, but she’s putting on a strong face. “You can go back to your room. I’m sorry for keeping you up so late.”

Jane doesn’t want to leave; she wants to help make Katherine feel better, to get her to smile genuinely. 

But she also wants to respect Katherine’s space.

“Okay,” Jane says, giving her a soft smile of her own. “Just… if there’s anything - anything - that I can do, please let me know, okay? I’m only a door down.”

“I know,” Katherine replies with a smile. “Thank you, Jane. I’ll talk to you in the morning.

The door shuts behind Jane and she stands there for a moment. She hears Katherine pick up on the crying and her heart hurts for the girl.

So she makes the resolution. She makes the promise. She’s going to be there for this child. She might not have ever had a chance with her own, but… she can do this. She can help Katherine.

But now, she had to learn.

That night, she walked into Parr’s room, asked a few questions outright. Parr had an idea of why she was asking, but never confirmed it. The two discuss caring for children, how that worked for Parr with Edward and Elizabeth, and various other tips and tricks. 

“You’re gonna do great, Jane,” Parr says knowingly. “You’ll figure it out. We all do eventually.”

Later on, Jane manages to corner Anna this time, asking questions about her relationship with Howard and how the girl generally operated. She asked about their history - she had read about them online, but she felt like it wasn’t enough - and how Katherine was back then versus now. Jane had tried to be subtle with the questioning, but the more she continued, the more the knowing look on Anna’s face made it apparent.

“Trying to go above and beyond for Kit, hm?” Anna asks, a smile on her face. “It’s good. It’ll be nice to have someone else also actively looking out for her.”

Later that morning - okay, well, afternoon - she manages to corner Boleyn and ask her a bit about caring for Elizabeth. Anne didn’t seem as willing to discuss it all, but she answered things easily enough. She gave a few pointers that Parr didn’t, told her some cute stories about the child, went on and on about how brilliant Elizabeth was and how important she was to her.

“For Howard, though,” Boleyn says, knowing easily enough what this was about. “I think you should just… feel it out. You have the instincts, clearly.“

Finally, later on that night, she gets the courage to talk to Aragon about Mary. 

Mary was a bit of a sore subject for Jane as well; though she had managed to get Henry to reconcile with her, she knew that Mary wasn’t exactly thrilled to accept Henry’s demands. If Jane was a bit stronger, a bit wiser, she might have been able to figure something out that could have helped Mary, but at the time she just wasn’t aware. Regardless, this was still the conversation that Jane was the least looking forward to; not because of Aragon herself, but rather because of Mary’s legacy.

It’s something Aragon didn’t talk about in public. Even on press tours, most people don’t discuss it. Jane’s heard the queen cry late at night, mumbling Mary’s name and “why” and so many questions that fall on intruding ears. 

She knows this is going to be painful for Aragon. But she does it anyways.

At first, Aragon is surprised to be asked that by Jane of all people. But then, she answers questions almost as simply as Parr does, and with little resistance. When Jane has enough information, she can’t help but add:

“I’m sorry,” Jane says, “If this was a bit much for you.”

“It’s fine,” Aragon replies. “I’m sure Howard will appreciate the guidance you’ll provide.”

Jane wanted to ask how Aragon knew about her intentions, but Aragon is out of the room before she can put in another word.

So it starts there: researching from primary sources is complete. Next, online.

Parr warned her about online sources, as apparently they might not be totally reputable. 

“You’ll need to keep things in context,” Parr explains, “and figure out if that’s good for the situation. If there’s any questions, just call me, okay?”

So Jane starts on Google. Goes on Wikipedia, reads a bunch of blogs, watches videos from YouTube, as much as she can. She’s deep into a fifteen minute video when she just sighs and turns it off; it wasn’t helping. Nothing was.

These are for normal parents with normal circumstances; certainly not what this was.

So, Jane decides to just… figure it out.

Progress is slow and awkward; Jane tries to make herself a bit more available to Katherine, who notices the increase of attention but is not bothered a bit by it. They talk a bit more often and more in-depth: not just their histories, but their feelings, how frustrated Katherine was with Parr about some trivial thing, about how Boleyn was off doing shenanigans or something. It’s funny, sometimes, but most of the time it’s them being there with each other, with Jane supporting Katherine as much as she can.

That doesn’t come without awkward moments, however. Sometimes, Jane tries to make Katherine do something - “clean your room,” for example - and it earns a weird look from Howard. Jane is quick to backtrack on that, however, as soon as she sees the weird look on Howard’s face. Parr or Boleyn or Aragon is quick to recover for her, either reinforcing the request or making a quick joke that alleviates the tension. 

Jane makes notes all the while, but apparently, Howard has as well.

One morning, it’s just the two of them before a matinee. Jane’s already made breakfast for the group - a normal thing, now - and Howard’s up a bit earlier than expected.

“Hey,” Jane says, smiling brightly at her. “You’re up a bit earlier than usual.”

“I heard you in here and wanted to hang out,” Howard replies, yawning. “That, and pancakes.” 

Jane chuckles. “Fair enough.”

They settle into comfortable silence before Howard finally speaks:

“You’ve been… off, lately,” Howard says, sitting down at the counter. “Is something the matter?”

“What?” Jane asks, trying to laugh it off. It only makes her more suspicious. “I… what??? No, nothing’s the matter, absolutely nothing, completely and totally fine and-”

“Definitely not panicking right now, got it,” Katherine replies with a bit of a smile. She slides her arms across the counter and puts Jane’s hands into her own.

“It’s okay, Jane. You can tell me. We’re family, remember?”

Jane blinks.

“I… just like that?” she asks, tilting her head.

Katherine mimics Jane’s movement.

“What do you mean? Of course, just like that.” Katherine replies with a bit of a chuckle. “After everything we’ve been through… I, at least, thought we were family.” 

She frowns, a scary thought forming:

“Unless… you don’t think so?”

“Oh! No, no, that’s not, nope.” Jane laughs awkwardly again. “No, I just… I really-” she sighs, putting her head in her hands. “I don’t want to mess it up,” she says through said hands, looking back up at Katherine. “I want to help you, Kit. That’s all I want to do. Because I know how hard it’s been for you, and I just… I want to be there to support you as best as I can.” 

Katherine smiles and moves around the counter to give Jane a big hug.

“I know. And I love you for it, Jane,” she says. Then, with  an impish smirk, she pinches Jane’s cheek in jest.

“You’re such a mom.”

With a wink, she moves away and back to her room with food in hand.

Jane looks over towards Katherine’s retreating form with a wondrous expression. Then, to herself:

“Did she just say…?”

“Told you you’d figure it out.”

Jane looks over to find Parr leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, smiling brightly. Jane nods quickly before smiling as big as Parr’s ever seen it.

“Yeah… I guess I have.”

[spnfanficpond]

January 2020 Pond LiveChat Recap - Writing RPF

We had a great time chatting with Taylor,  @impalaimagining​! Thank you so much for joining us and sharing your thoughts and experience!

Our topic this month was Writing RPF, and we talked about the legal, moral, and emotional aspects of writing about real people.  A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

We started off the chat with the legal side of things, most of which was covered back when we talked about Monetizing Fan Works back in May. Here are the related links that were brought up:

Wikipedia: Legal issues with fan fiction (The section dealing with RPF is near the bottom under Right of Publicity.) Boiled down, RPF has to deal with a celebrity's Right of Publicity. Famous people have the right to control the commercial use of their name, image, and likeness, sometimes even their broader identity or persona. Most states’ laws on this only apply to uses for commercial gain. So, don't try to get paid directly for RPF, and you're safe.

From NPR: We Stan: Real Person Fan Fiction Comes To Life. This is a fascinating discussion about RPF, the legalities, and how it’s been changing in recent years. This argues that basically since “fiction” is right there in the name, RPF is inherently more legal than regular fan fiction based off of characters. No one is trying to say that the real people involved are actually doing these things, it’s just fiction.

Goodreads Genre: Fan Fiction - Real Person Fiction. When I was researching, this link came up, and I clicked it, not knowing what to expect. Finding that Fan fiction, much less RPF is on Goodreads was surprising to me. (I thought Goodreads was only about books that could be purchased and didn’t touch “unpublished” works, but I guess not?) What I found most interesting was exactly how many of the titles listed on that page are J2-related. There are more J2-related titles than all of the others COMBINED. As a fandom, we rock!

The discussion started with most folks saying they hadn’t considered the legalities of fan fiction, or RPF in particular, when they began writing. Their first concern was just getting the story out of their head and onto the paper. Also, since no one was getting paid for it and it’s so popular, no one questioned the legalities. Also, since it’s fiction, there’s no defamation of character.

@mrswhozeewhatsis​ (Michelle): Most people know that I generally don’t read RPF, unless it’s an AU. Way way way back, when I first started reading fan fiction, I used to read the occasional RPF. Honestly, before SPN, I never really liked an actor enough to want to know more about them. (I've been burned by some jerk actors in the past.) One of the first RPFs I ever read was from Jared's POV, and it contained a scene where he was on stage at a con, and detailed his thoughts. I forget what the inciting incident was, but suddenly he was thinking, "Great, now they're all thinking about how big my dick is," and it made him spiral. Something about that stuck with me, to the point that I cringe every time I see Jared on stage and anything remotely sexual comes up. That's pretty much what stopped me from reading RPF. I have no problem thinking about how big Sam's dick is, but I can't ponder too much about Jared's dick, or I can't look him in the eye when I see him at cons!!!

Taylor: I definitely think there is a very fine line to be walked when you write RPF, and I generally don't cross into the area of writing from an actor's POV.

Q: Is that how you keep it separate so you don’t stare into their faces at a con during a photo op and think about the smut you wrote about them?

Taylor: It can be hard to keep it separate sometimes but it's actually very easy in the moment of a split second photo op. They move so quickly, I don't genuinely think I have ever had the time to consider the things I've written about them while I was talking to and hugging them!

Q: Anyone else who doesn’t read/write RPF, do you think that the whole not being able to look them in the eye is an internal thing for anyone in your life, or just celebs? 

@manawhaat​ (Mana): For example, I have A. FUCKING. LOT. of sex dreams. With tons of people, celebs and people I know in my real life... and I don't want to say that it's jaded me as far as thinking sexual thoughts about people, but in a way it kind of has. I don't have that moral dilemma of not being able to look Jared in the eye after thinking about his dick.  Taylor: I completely agree. I think writing it has made me kind of impervious to it bleeding into my daily life. I see Jared and my heart goes ohmygodwelovehim first and in person, then later when he's not around is when the wowowowbutwhatabouthisdick comes in. Michelle: I don’t think I could write about anyone in a smutty way. Just characters.

Q: I wanted to talk about 'characterization' of rpf. Do other rpf writers out there think of the people as characters and treat them that way, or do you humanize them? Idk if that question makes sense but it's along the same lines of keeping them separate. 

@fogsrollingin​ (Alex): I cast them in other stories when it's rpf. I always write rpf AUs with only a couple exceptions. We know their onscreen mannerisms, so making them astronauts terraforming a new planet with evil aliens on it is like "oh easy". Taylor: Characterization is huge for me. If someone writes an actor outside of the way they portray themselves, it's impossible for me to read. While we don't know these people personally, we know how they act outwardly and in the public eye, and that's enough to get a good idea of the kind of person they would be.  Michelle: I have no trouble reading AUs, because it's just another character who happens to look like and have the name of one of my favorite actors. In AUs, they're characters. If they are actors on a show called Supernatural, then it's too humanizing for me. Taylor: See, Michelle, my mind can't separate it to that degree. If I'm reading about someone named Jared who looks like our Jared? It's Jared. AUs give me a lot of trouble, to be honest.  Both writing and reading. Alex: I feel like it's no different than if Jared did a scifi movie during his summer break from spn & it's so low budget they just kept his real name for his character name.

Q: Do you feel differently reading ship RPF than reader insert RPF?

Michelle: Most of the RPF stories I read are ships, but I do read some reader inserts, too. It’s not an intentional choice either way. Alex: I don't feel differently about it, rly. I know I prefer reading ships over reader insert but that's just my personal jam. Mana: I have a hard time reading ship rpf mainly because I like the versions of my ships that I've built in my head, so when someone deviates from that it is a little turn off for me. Like, your version of Cockles is not the same as my version, which is totally fine, you do you, but it isn't gonna tickle me the same way ya know. so when I get into like non-mainstream ships it's extra difficult to find writers who represent them in the 'right' ways. Taylor: I feel that way about pretty much everything I read, and I think that has a lot to do with the whole characterization piece of it. I know that my idea of and the way I portray Jared or Jensen is probably a million times different than the way other people, including my readers, think of them. I try really hard to make sure the way the actors come across is "right". Mana: I think the one big piece of characterization is kind of using the way they have presented themselves as a moral compass. Obviously they don't present their whole selves so there's always wiggle room and areas where you are free to project your ideas of them into the fic, but that's also the trickiest area and where so many people drop the ball.  Taylor: YES. So, so many people take that wiggle room and take it leaps and bounds beyond what is public (fandom) knowledge. 

Q: How do you feel about RPFs that support certain theories about the wives being beards and such?

Mana: I try to not write anything that would feel as if I'm slandering anyone, etc. I wouldn't want to write a Jensen x reader fic where Danneel cheats on him and that's how they get together. If I mention it at all I just say that they've peacefully and amicably parted ways. If I don't mention it then they simply don't exist in the timeline. But never anything negative about anyone, especially the wives.  @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ (Kaisha): I don't write smut (only read) so I have a very different interpretation on a lot of the things being discussed. I tend to stick with non-AU, sister/daughter!reader insert RPF fics because I don't feel creative enough branch out beyond that. I feel the same as Mana, and I actually won't read fics that are based on the premise that someone cheated for the storyline to work. Alex: I'm okay if ppl deviate far into fantasy realms tho. As long as it's not too support a real life conspiracy theory about the actors, if ppl wanna write it & others like it, all the more power to them. I mean as long as you're like "I killed the wives during the zombie apocalypse in my fic but I love them in real life please don't kill me" I'm like "cool". Taylor: I avoid bashing fics or beard fics. Admittedly I have one where Jensen and Danneel never got married, but they still had a daughter together and Danneel hid the kid from him until her 5th birthday. That doesn't feel like a bash/slander fic to me because I'm not painting anyone as a bad person - things just played out differently. 

Q: The person who suggested this topic mentioned “how to write your first RPF.” Any suggestions?

Michelle: Have Mana finish it for you! (The only one I’ve ever written, she had to finish for me!) Alex: My first rpf was a ballerina!Jared & yogi!Misha romcom. It was so goofy! Taylor: I don't know if I can even answer that question. It literally just poured out of me when I started. I took the tiny little idea I had in my head (my daydream, as it was previously and so aptly named), and put it into words and it ended up being a 10 part series. Mana: How to write your first rpf: READ RPF FROM A LOT OF DIFFERENT WRITERS. find what works for you and for the people you're writing about. do a couple of trial runs with shorter fics. you have room to play, but try not to stray too far from what they've presented themselves as in real life. Kaisha: For me, when I wrote my first RPF (which was also my first fic), I was in a mental place where I was watching a lot of con videos and reading a lot of sister/daughter fics. It was more "I need an outlet for how I am feeling right now and I don't have anyone to talk to"...so I talked to the image of the boys I had made in my head from what I saw of them online.

Q: Does character shipping affect the RPFs you read? Like, if your OTP is Destiel, do you mainly only read Cockles?

Kaisha: I will read almost anything that's related to one of the Js, either RPF or SPN. But I don't have strong ship feels one way or another that changes what I read/write for RPF. Taylor: I don't know if character ships have any kind of effect on RPF ships. Because there are a lot more people involved in cons than we see on the show, and cons are my primary source of RPF inspiration. Like, we see Henry, what, twice in the show? But Gil McKinney is a whole other story. He's all over the convention circuit (or at least he used to be) and also all over fandom twitter. It just feels easier for me to write RPF because I see these actors in my real life, interacting with other real people. I have interacted with them, which makes things feel a lot more real than writing about two hot fictional dudes from my TV screen. Alex: I'm definitely up for Sam/Dean as much as I'm up for J2. Oddly tho it's Mishalecki at real life con panels that's gotten me totally happy to write/read Mishalecki.

Q: (From Taylor) The piece of RPF I struggle with the most is bringing events from the actors' real lives into my stories. Writing about Jensen and the brewery, about their kids and stories they tell about them at cons, that's where my already grey area turns even more grey. 

Kaisha: I am right there with you Taylor! My fic started as mostly the reader and JJ interacting and then I remember the twins existed, too. And with my new fic I am trying to figure out if the San Jac and FBBC will work in or not. Mana: I'm interested in this, because I don't seem to have that issue or gray area. It just doesn't exist for me and I'd like to hear more about it from you guys. Taylor: It's so hard haha. I have something coming up that deals with Jared being arrested and of course I didn't post it before that whole event went down so now it looks like I'm taking that part of his life and twisting it for my personal fiction needs. Which feels kinda (adult word for "not good").  Kaisha: For me the gray area thing is because I want to write a believable story. A believable story has realistic details and if I am ignoring or overlooking things that my audience knows to be true, I feel it takes them out of the story. Mana: So it's a case of omit it entirely or commit to it entirely? I ask in regards to like FBBC and the kids. Do you feel differently about incorporating those aspects into your fics? would you be more comfortable writing about fbbc than you would the kids? Or does that gray area cover the same on both? Kaisha: The same thing goes for when I beta read something. A detail that I don't remember or agree with will take me out of the story and send me on a research rabbit trail to know if the author is correct with what they said. I want to stay in the story as much as possible and I want that for my readers too. That's probably a good way to differentiate it. If I state in the A/N that J1 only has 1 kid, then I don't have to consider what year the story is occurring in. But if I tell you it's non-AU, well then everything that is happening in our universe should be happening in my story (otherwise, it would be AU, even to the slightest degree). The kids vs. FBBC thing I think could be very personal on which someone feels more comfortable with. I say that because I know ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING about alcohol. Kids on the other hand I get. Taylor: For me it's the same. Just, actual concrete aspects of Jensen's life are harder for me to write about. Because then - again, just for me - that feels like writing from their point of view, which is something I try to avoid.

Q: Do any of you read/write RPF outside of SPN?

Taylor: SPN is my only fandom. Michelle: I tried to read fics from other fandoms, and just couldn’t get into it. I might be getting sucked into The Witcher fandom, though. Haven’t found any Geralt fics that really align with my image of him, though. Alex: There are CW network RPF AUs I read. Taylor: I feel like, as SPN fans, we have a wonderful privilege and incredible pool of writers to choose from when we want to read. I don't know, because like I said SPN is my only fandom, if any other fandom has this level of talent or dedication.

Q: Have you ever read an RPF fic that changed the way you viewed an actor? Or given you a sense of gained insight into their lives?

Michelle: That's actually why I don't read “canon-compliant” RPF, actually. Because then I might think that idea is real, and won't see that it's not, even when proven wrong. Like, maybe Jared actually loves it when we think about how big his dick is? But I can't stop thinking that it embarrasses him and makes him uncomfortable because I read it in that one fic. Kaisha: @crashdevlin​  has a Jensen x reader series that also heavily features Tom Hiddleston. My view of Tom has forever been changed because of her story!  Michelle: My brain is very malleable. Sometimes, I'm so open-minded, my brain falls right out. I have to be careful what I let influence me. Kaisha: It wasn't something that I intended to happen. Crash just wrote a very compelling character and I think my opinion would have been altered no matter who it was that she used as the face. Taylor: I've never read anything that has changed the way I view the actors. I've certainly read things that have given me new ideas about the things they enjoy (bitey and/or rough smut), but nothing that's changed the way they appear in my mind. I think the biggest part of all of this is just remembering that all of this is 100% FICTION and should never be taken as reality in any way, shape, or form.

To close out the chat, Mana requested fic recs! Here are the recs that were mentioned:

Michelle: If you're into serial killer AUs, There's a J2 AU in my AO3 bookmarks that's genius. Adoration. The other RPF bookmark I have is called Beholder. Jared runs an animal shelter, and Jensen is a homeless man with a TBI who gets dumped at the shelter one night.

Alex: My favorite rpf fic is Tails by keep_waking_up. Werefox!Jared & kitsune!Jensen law enforcement murder mystery AU.

Taylor: One of my favorites to read is by @thecleverdame​: Modern Technology. (Jared x reader) This is unfinished but it's quickly becoming one of my favorite Jensen-things I've ever written, AND IT'S AN AU!!! Rockabye. Also, there’s You Saved Me (Jared x Reader). And have a J2 x Reader for funsies! Something is Happening

Kaisha: This is my favorite RPF. Underneath verse (series) - J2 -  Jensen is the undercover FBI agent sent to take out Jared, the boss of Chicago. #Self-promo, but I am pretty proud of this one, too: Nanny, Sister, Daughter...Family (Jenneel with sorta daughter!reader)

Mana: Here’s the Cockles x Reader fic that Michelle and I wrote: Rumor Has It And, of course, (Jenneel x Reader) Fools In Love.

Feel free to reblog with your favorite RPF fics!!

Also, the February LiveChat info is still TBD. Feel free to send in your topic ideas and suggest guest speakers!!

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever! Next up is organizing the tagging system on the blog to make it easier for readers to find the stories they’re interesting in and for writers to find the help they’re looking for!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work!  IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

Say hi to December’s New Members and January’s New Members! (If we missed someone, let us know!)

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details!  The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We’re getting lots of requests for more Big Fish, lately, but so far, only one applicant! If you know someone you think would be a good Big Fish, tell them to apply!!

[polarisavi]

tenderness is in the hands

or, Eliott’s favourite cinema has cheap popcorn, a lot of foreign films, and a blue eyed boy behind the counter. // 3k // ao3

The Lallemant Theatre looks half dilapidated from the street. Old fashioned, with faded vintage posters in dull, scratched up frames outside, and half the light bulbs blown out, throwing odd shadows on the movie titles.  

Eliott is there at least once a week.

The scuffed up wooden floors feel like home. Golden walls littered with more decades old posters, velvet love seats in deep red and purple scattered at odd intervals along the sides of the room, the scents of melted butter and bleach inescapable and constant.

“There you are. I was worried you were dead in a ditch,” says the only other person in the building. Eliott, before he’s had a chance to lift his head to find him, grins on instinct. Lucas’ voice, lilting and teasing, washes away the bad mood this week has left him with.

“Serious bodily harm is the only thing that would keep me from you,” he allows. Lucas just scowls, bristles, and puts aside the magazine in his hands. Eliott keeps smiling. It’s hard to predict exactly how Lucas will react when he says things like that, but whatever response he gets is a treasure.

“You’re almost late, you know.”

Eliott finally reaches the counter, places his hands on it and leans over a bit. Lucas’ hair is defying gravity, his eyes bright under the lighting, and a red plaid scarf that would contrast delightfully with his skin is curled next to the keyboard. Eliott wriggles his eyebrows. “You’d wait for me though, right?” Lucas rolls his eyes, so Eliott wages forward. “What’s on tonight?”

“Some Australian horror.” Lucas runs a hand through his hair, some of his fingernails flashing with chipped colour. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it, to be honest.”

Eliott hums vaguely and pulls out his wallet, finds a creased note between a collection of abandoned loyalty cards and faded concert tickets. The ticket stub he gets in exchange has a thick yellow line down the side, and the hand giving it to him has badly painted nails, each one a different shade of green.

“You’re really bad at that,” he says, nodding to Lucas’ hand. Lucas squints his eyes, raises his chin a little.

“I had to use my left hand.”

“Uh huh. Let’s see your other hand, then.” The other hand in question immediately disappears from view. From the way he shifts, there’s a good chance Lucas is sitting on it.

Eliott grins in triumph. “There’s no shame in being truly terrible at things, Lucas.”

“I suppose you would know a thing or two about it.”

Valiantly, Eliott lets that slide, stuffs the ticket in his pocket. The colour changes every month or so, and soon he’ll have enough of them saved to do - something. A collage, a sculpture, something worthy of this building, of the memories inside its walls. “Why don’t you think I’ll like the movie?”

“I’ve only seen pieces, but it doesn’t seem to have any… sincerity in it. Which I know you don’t have a lot of tolerance for.”

“You remember that?” Not a lot of people actually listen to him when he talks about film, the thread sometimes unspooling too quickly, tangling and looping, and making it hard for anyone to follow easily.

Lucas expression goes warm, kind, and something boarding on sympathetic. “I remember everything you say, Eliott.” There’s an implied obviously in the air and, well, no one would blame him for the way his heart beat rushes, especially when Lucas says his name like that, affectionate, weighty, like it’s valuable, like it matters.

Eliott looks to the side, coughs, brings the lighter out of his pocket just to have something to fiddle with.

“Has anyone else got a ticket for it?”

The way Lucas shakes his head makes his hair dance. “Just you. How much popcorn do you want?”

Eliott shoots the popcorn machine a look, its yellow glow a physical presence in the room. He can almost feel the sheer quantity of butter clogging up his veins from here. Simultaneously they take the couple steps to the side where the confectionery part of the counter technically starts.

“Depends, how hungry are you?” he asks, smirks, when Lucas has the audacity to look surprised Eliott is asking.

“Who says I’m joining you? I have a job to do, you know.”

It’s a good argument, but one that would probably work better if they were in a theatre that had more than roughly fifteen customers a week, most of them not at 9pm on a Wednesday.

“You would rather sit out here doing magazine quizzes and waiting for customers that don’t exist than sit next to me for a few hours and prove just how bad you are with accents?”

“You’re so annoying, and I have nothing to prove to you. “

Eliott softens. “I know you don’t. So how hungry are you?”

Without argument, Lucas shoots the popcorn a longing look. “So fucking hungry. Don’t worry,” he adds, flaps his hand like he can reverse Eliott’s move to take his wallet out again. “it’s included in your ticket price.”

A blatant lie, but Eliott doesn’t call him on it, just shrugs. Lucas nods and starts piling popcorn into the biggest box they have, the cardboard checkered orange and white. Lucas’ maman, the owner, seems to love colour, the theatre drenched in vibrancy, texture, calling out to a city that’s too blind to see it.

When Lucas passes the box over, their fingers overlap, and Eliott sets the food down in favour of getting a closer look at his hands. It’s a good thing Lucas has started painting his nails, he doesn’t have to reach for an excuse. It’s a lot smoother than Lucas’s I think there’s a bug, oh no wait my mistake, I’ve always liked tattoos, why do you have mardi written on your knee? It’d been a warm day, on the cusp of summer, the arms of their singlets plunging low to their waists, both of their legs’ exposed,  and it was a good thing Lucas moved first because Eliott had been trying to find reasons for why Lucas really should stop sitting properly and drape his leg’s across Eliott’s. He’s as shameless as Lucas, really, just hides it better.

And this, this is slightly subtler. He leans down like he’s properly inspecting Lucas’ hands, face serious, touch gentle, and Lucas doesn’t resist, bends easily to make room for Eliott’s whims.

The colour isn’t really that badly done, really, but still.

“You can practice on me, if you want,” Eliott offers. Nicely, in his opinion, but Lucas’ eyebrows furrow.

“I’m really bad at it.”

“…Which is why I offered.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t mind being bad when it’s my own body, but you have nice hands,” Eliott chokes on nothing, Lucas mouth quirks. “I don’t want to ruin them.”

“You couldn’t ruin anything.”

“Well, some things,” Eliott doesn’t think he imagined the seconds Lucas takes to flick his eyes down Eliott’s body, “but if you insist, I’ll gladly use you to experiment on.”

Eliott doesn’t know when they started having, how they keep having, multiple conversations at once, but it’s a bit too much. His hand automatically moves to tap at his lips, a nervous tic, but, right, they’re still holding - no, not holding, just touching - hands. He can feel the edge of a callous on one of Lucas’ fingers. Drums? Guitar? Wire sculpture? Carpentry? Before he can ask further, Lucas slips his hand away and he jumps the counter.

“Come on, I don’t want to keep you out late.”

Lucas sets off towards the splintered hall that most of the theatres spring off, and Eliott follows him automatically, absently reclaiming the popcorn when Lucas picks up a jacket, presumably his own. “You don’t?”

“Well, not for this,” the tips of his ears go slightly red, but nothing else. One day Eliott will make him blush for real, and it will be a beautiful day. “Isn’t a regular sleep schedule good for you? For stability, I mean.”

“I don’t remember telling you that.”

“That’s because you didn’t. I did some research, after you told me. The Wikipedia article for bipolar disorder is very well written.”

“No WebMD?”

Lucas shakes his head. “Yahoo Answers was very educational, though.”

“Well, primary sources are important.”

Lucas takes a right turn, a direction that can only take them to two cinemas: the Burgandy and the Woolf. The former reasonably large, wide seats, a bronze curtain unveiling the screen, and the width between aisles just that little bit too small for his liking. The latter is smaller, screen half the size, the walls dark blue, ceiling tall, and a collection of deep couches to seat the audience. It is, undeniably, Eliott’s favourite, and the way Lucas is looking, pleased, content, a slight bounce to his walk that usually isn’t there - Eliott has to resist the urge wrap his arms around him and, possibly, never let go. The ecosystem here would support them; they’d never have to leave.

The next time he glances over at Lucas his heart stutters when he finds those blue eyes already trained on him, eager, adoring. The barriers between them erode the deeper they roam into the guts of the building. The architecture is tricky, clever, expands beyond the barriers granted to it by the city, and something similar happens to them. Eliott feels paper thin, transparent, emotions bleeding into the space between them. Lucas reaches across, tugs on his arm, and leads them, unsurprisingly, into the Woolf. And it’s okay that he’s bleeding, that this far deep the physics of the room demands honesty, because it’s Lucas, a fixed point in the universe, who, underneath the snark and pouting and dramatics, has always ever only gathered up all the kindness and joy and tenderness he could find in his hands and offered it to Eliott freely.

Lucas softly nudges Eliott towards a couch in the centre but doesn’t follow him down when Eliott sits, sinks, into the middle of it, wanders away to do whatever is required to start the movie. The lights dim, first, then the screen clicks to life with a kind thank you for choosing Lallemant Theatre for your movie going experience. The room is a universe unto itself, and the last traces of the day slide off of him, every bad thought getting lost in the dark.

Lucas, when he returns, drops down on Eliott’s side, close, confident, and reaches across his body for a handful of popcorn. Eliott had placed it beside him, next to the armrest, without thinking, but clearly it had been a great idea.

Lucas’ neck arches back when he relaxes, stares at the ceiling, chest moving slowly, deeply, his collarbone refracting light. It’s - Eliott shouldn’t stare like this, should try and tame his greedy eyes, because Lucas isn’t his to stare at so blatantly. Not really. Whatever nebulous, shifting, sometimes delicate thing they’ve morphed into over these months, there are some lines still intact, things left unsaid under a gossamer veil of… deniability, caution, something.

Like he’s been summoned by the current of Eliott’s thoughts, Lucas flops his neck, looks at him. “Can I take you up on your offer?”

“Of course,” Eliott answers automatically, without bothering to figure out exactly what he’s referring to. Yes, of course, literally whatever Lucas wants. His responding grin is visible even in the low light, and in the seconds Eliott takes to bask in and appreciate his smile, Lucas straightens up, whips out a small bottle of nail polish from somewhere, its lid silver and the polish colour unknown.

Right. Eliott has his doubts about how well this will go given the changing light levels, courtesy of the pre movie ads, and lack of a solid surface, but Lucas twists to sit sideways, takes Eliott’s hand and places it on one of his thighs, and, really, if Lucas has deemed this environment adequate, who is Eliott to tell him otherwise.

The denim of his jeans is warm, the muscle underneath firm, and Lucas pats his hand, just once, before opening the polish and securing the bottle in the crease of his other leg.

“What colour is it?”

“Dark orange, kinda.”

“I don’t know if it’ll go with my complexion. “

Lucas snorts. “You can take the hit.”

The first brush is on his thumb, and leaves a sizeable streak on the skin beside his nail. An edge of a smile is visible from Eliott’s eye line. The next nail goes about the same way, and Eliott makes the decision to study the room, the ads, the tumble of Lucas’ hair, rather than watch in real time as burnt orange varnish settles into the grooves of his skin.

By the time he finishes painting that hand, the movie has started, and Eliott really should pay attention, but his gaze is stuck. There are stars in Lucas’ eyes, his skin stained rose from light thrown from the screen, veins in his arms; Eliott vibrates with the need to touch, to feel, to trace the shape of his hands, his arms, the sweet curve of his neck.

His hand, the one on Lucas’ thigh, clasps, squeezes, subconsciously, and Lucas finally, finally, meets his gaze properly. His mouth feels sticky, stuffed with fairy floss, and he wants to apologise but the words won’t come out. There are stars in his eyes, an entire ocean, every sublime mystery the universe has to offer.

Characters are talking, their accents grating, and the light burns white.

Lucas’ hand finds his and squeezes.

“Can our next date be somewhere else?”

Eliott’s mind goes blank, tries to force the fairy floss away. “Our next date?”

“Or our first one, either way,” Lucas says, and his smile is cheeky, eyes teasing. Eliott takes a second to readjust to this new reality, this beautiful, divine reality, and lets himself smile too, gentle, and probably slightly awed.

“We’ve been doing this for how long, and this is how you officially ask me out?”

Lucas’ cheeks bunch with how big he’s smiling. “You had something better in mind, Romeo?”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I would’ve convinced your maman to play my favourite romance, and then recreated one of the scenes with you, which would make you swoon and win your heart.”

Lucas’ mouth gapes for a second, incredulous. “That sounded very well planned for something that I only just asked you.”

“That was one of my top five plans.”

“Five?”

“I’ll tell you about them later.” Lucas looks curious, like he wants to ask more, want to keep interrogating every romantic scenario Eliott has ever thought of, eyes flicking across Eliott’s features, and when he bites his lip Eliott’s gaze drops to them, plush, pink, begging to be captured. Normally Eliott would indulge him anything, but there are some better things they could do. “Can I please kiss you now?”

Lucas starts nodding before he’s finished speaking, smiles for a second, and he doesn’t have to lean far because Eliott has already moved forward, curled into his space.

“Please,” Lucas whispers, leans his neck up, and Eliott falls into his gravity. The first tentative brush of their lips feels like the first ever breath of air, vital, stabilising, impossible to live without. His hands go up to cup Lucas’ cheeks, keep him there, keep him close. His veins fizz and heart flutters, bounces, around his chest, but this, the sweet drag of Lucas’ lips, his soft sigh when Eliott tilts his head, kisses his deeper, slower, this is the most certain, the most right, he’s ever felt about anything. The universe was designed to place him here, with this boy, so close he’s almost in his lap. Placed him so he can hear the low noise Lucas makes, the vibrations travelling straight down to his core, when he breaks their kiss.

Lucas, dazed, confused, and smiling, looks back at him. “Why’d you stop?” his voice is a little gravelly.

Eliott strokes the cut of his cheekbones with his thumb. “I just - I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he murmurs.

“Really?” Lucas asks, with a level of shock that shouldn’t be there, that Eliott will have to rectify every day they’re together. For now, though, he shrugs, raises his eyebrows teasingly.

Lucas makes a dramatic sound, some kind of sigh/groan hybrid, and looks heavenward. “I wasn’t sure if you were like that with everyone, or just me.”

When he looks back down Eliott guides their foreheads together, shakes his head gently so they don’t get displaced. “Only you. Ever since I saw you, it’s only been you.”

[nothingofnotereally]

Unpacking the Mother of Skeletons

So I was just talking to some friends about this page and those references, and my psychology degree-possessing butt started explaining the wire mommy reference, which led me to researching the other references, and now I’m going to unpack them here for your benefit.

Before I do this, let me be clear that I am not agreeing with Grant Morrison or his portrayal of Talia nor am I agreeing with this use of these cultural, religious and social sciencey references.  Just trying to break down what he’s getting at here. 

Ahem.

So the context is this:  Morrison’s Talia is 1. On a rampage of destruction because Bruce won’t date her and 2. Rejecting Heretic’s desire for her love and approval.  Noteworthy: Heretic is Damian’s clone, so he is her genetic son.

Okay, here we go... in order, except for Kali which is last because boy is that a reference to unpack.

Tiamat: Okay so Tiamat is a goddess, in this case the ancient Mesopotamian goddess of creation, the mother of gods and monsters.  She gives birth to the gods, but her husband realizes they want to depose him, so he wars against their children and their children destroy him, and then Tiamat wages war on their children.  She is ultimately killed but not before creating the dragons who have poison in their veins instead of blood... but anyway I’m pretty sure the point he’s getting at is that her progeny rebels against her and she in turn wages war on them.  This may also link back to the final bits of Batman Inc where Ra’s is set to unleash Damian’s clones - Talia’s unnatural children.  Dragons with poison instead of blood, metaphorically.

Medusa: This is a stupid reference because the actual myth (at least the ones I’ve personally encountered) is that Medusa was r_ped in the temple of Athena.  And Athena decided to act like a Greek God does, blaming the victim and cursing her to become a monster.  Not super relevant except that Morrison has previously referenced this as the story of a beautiful woman who became a monster after her love was rejected - no idea where he got that from, but I think that’s fairly self-explanatory in the context of a Talia who has gone warpath because Bruce won’t date her.

The Wire Mommy: So I’m pretty sure this is a reference to the Harry Harlow rhesus monkey studies in the 1930s.  So basically this was a study conducted in, I believe, the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where Harlow got some babby rhesus monkeys and removed them from their mothers and placed them in one of two primary environments:

An inanimate substitute mother made of wire holds food and a similar substitute made of terry cloth is without food.

An inanimate substitute mother made of terry cloth holds food and a similar wire mother does not have food.

Okay so the findings of this study were basically that the baby monkeys didn’t like the wire mother.  In the case where the food was with the wire mother, they would go over and eat and then dash it over to the terry cloth mother and cling to that one.  

What I gather from this, especially in the context of the above where Heretic is looking to Talia to love and nurture him, is that she’s saying that, despite having given him life and physically supported him (in other words, having the metaphorical food), she has no warmth or love for him.  She is made of wire and without comfort or softness.

The Red Queen: I’m not superfamiliar with the Alice books beyond Wonderland so I did look this up on Wikipedia as well.  Therein lies this quote from Carroll:

The Red Queen I pictured as a Fury, but of another type; her passion must be cold and calm - she must be formal and strict, yet not unkindly; pedantic to the 10th degree, the concentrated essence of all governesses

So, again, a comparison between Talia and a cold, dispassionate anger/hatred, and a female/maternal figure without warmth.

Mother of Skeletons doesn’t seem to be a specific reference - if you’ve got one, feel free to drop that on me, too, but I couldn’t find anything.  I’m guessing it’s another way of reiterating this point that she is a destructive maternal figure who devours or destroys her unworthy children.

And finally...

Kali: Kali is a major Hindu deity, the wife of Shiva, and one of the more famous Hindu gods.  Please note I am not Hindu, I’m not going to front as some kind of expert and if you know better than me, feel free to correct me.  Anyway, Kali has many aspects, some of which are extraordinarily destructive and some of which are less so.  To find out which one he’s specifically referencing all we need to do is look at the art, though:

Kali’s most common pose in paintings is in her most fearsome guise as the slayer of demons, where she stands or dances with one foot on a collapsed Shiva and holds a severed head. She wears a skirt of severed human arms, a necklace of decapitated heads, and earrings of dead children, and she often has a terrifying expression with a lolling tongue which drips blood. --Ancient History Encyclopedia

So okay looking at Wikipedia because I’m lazy... some relevant references, and you’ll see how the other names she gives for herself back this up:

Rāmprasād comments in many of his other songs that Kāli is indifferent to his wellbeing, causes him to suffer, brings his worldly desires to nothing and his worldly goods to ruin. He also states that she does not behave like a mother should and that she ignores his pleas:

Can mercy be found in the heart of her who was born of the stone? [a reference to Kali as the daughter of Himalaya] Were she not merciless, would she kick the breast of her lord? Men call you merciful, but there is no trace of mercy in you, Mother. You have cut off the heads of the children of others, and these you wear as a garland around your neck. It matters not how much I call you "Mother, Mother." You hear me, but you will not listen.

To be a child of Kāli, Rāmprasād asserts, is to be denied of earthly delights and pleasures. Kāli is said to refrain from giving that which is expected.

So, a mother who, having been born of stone herself, lacks mercy and warmth.  Given Morrison’s take on Talia’s background and her relationship to Ra’s... self-explanatory pretentious reference.  But that’s not all:

Vamakali is usually worshipped by non-householders. The pose shows the conclusion of an episode in which Kali was rampaging out of control after destroying many demons. Shiva, fearing that Kali would not stop until she destroyed the world, could only think of one way to pacify her. He lay down on the battlefield so that she would have to step on him. Seeing her consort under her foot, Kali realized that she had gone too far, and calmed down.

Okay this is super relevant because one thing that people often miss about Morrison’s Talia is that her acts of destruction are ultimately meant to get Bruce’s attention.  She undertakes this villainous rampage because he only pays attention to villains: she doesn’t even think it’s interesting, she mocks her own plans and calls them stupid.  She says she’s doing this because Bruce prefers things black and white and over the top.  

And in the end, she shows up in the Batcave, declares that they’re going to fight to the death, and then has a passionate kissing session with him...

...seriously, everyone remembers the kiss but no one talks about how Bruce is still into it.  

But anyway, so they make out, and she poisons him...

...then declares she’s doing all this as a gift to him, expresses frustration that he doesn’t understand, and demands that he beg her for help.

Here’s my point:  she’s not actually trying to kill him or take the world down.  She’s trying to force Bruce to submit to her, at which point she would feel satisfied and come back back from the edge.  As evidenced by her earlier panels expressing her frustration that he won’t stop or admit defeat.

In fact, a great deal of what she does in Batman Inc. seems to be done to elicit a specific response from Bruce - for example, she has a hit put on Damian, but it’s really just to mess with Bruce’s head, it’s not really meant to result in Damian actually dying.  I would say this comes back to this idea that the opposite of love is apathy not hate - love and hate are both intertwined and Morrison’s Talia both hates and loves him, or rather loves him until she hates him and hates him until she loves him.

This reminds me, one day I should write a thing about how Morrison’s Bruce/Talia story is basically a tragic romance and Talia is the actual love interest of his run... or should I because I don’t really want to be the person who writes longass meta about runs and interpretations that I actually hate.   

Anyway, SIGNING OFF AGAIN, it’s...

Me!

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01E08

If you read all of this, congratulations. I think this is by far the longest culture and translation post I’ve done yet.

CLIP 1: Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way or Another

I didn’t get to this part last episode, but as some people have mentioned, Nora lives with her parents. Spanish grammar has a feature called “masculine generics.” I’ll quote Wikipedia: “Grammatical gender in Spanish refers to how Spanish nouns are categorized as either masculine (often ending in -o) or feminine (often ending in -a). As in other Romance languages—such as Portuguese, to which Spanish is very similar—a group of both males and females, or someone of unknown gender, is usually referred to by the masculine form of a nouns and or pronoun.” Because of this, we can infer that one of Nora’s parents is a man, but we don’t know whether the other parent is a man or a woman. Twitter likes the idea of making the Eskild expy her parent, and Linn his husband, but I don’t think it’s caught on in here.

Buah, ¿sabéis quién triunfó también en la fiesta? (“Hey, you know who also triumphed at the party?”): I have never seen “to triumph” being used this way in English, but that is the verb Amira uses and I really wanted to keep the idea of hooking up with people as a victory, something you win at.

Es que me parece súper fuerte, ¿no? (“I just think it’s too much, no?): “Fuerte” (literally “strong”) is Spanish slang for something that crosses a line or is “extra” in some way.

Hombre, pues no sé cómo lo veréis (“Man, I don’t know about you”): What Viri says would be literally translated as, “Man, I don’t know how you’re going to see it.”

Ya, y a ésta le van a llegar los cuernos hasta el techo del gimnasio (“Yeah, and the side girls are going to reach the gym ceiling all standing on top of each other”): Okay, so here is a line where I took liberties in order to get the most out of the line and the visual. In Spanish, when someone cheats on their significant other, we say that the person being cheated on has “cuernos” (horns) or is a “cornudo” (horned). So, Cris says that Cristian is cheating on Lara so often and so much that her horns are going to grow as high as to reach the gym ceiling. In English, the closest translation is “cuckold,” which comes from the Old French word for the cuckoo bird. Since I couldn’t work with the actual translation, I reworked the line to say that the side girls could reach the gym ceiling if they stood on top of each other. Sort of like that factoid that says if we stacked every human up on one another, we’d be 1/4th of the way to Venus.

I think Nora means that it’s better if she doesn’t flash a UV light over her room, but it’s not clear in Spanish either.

I really can’t remember whether we ever played dodgeball in high school P.E., but the whole premise just sounds like a pair of broken glasses waiting to happen.

CLIP 2: Skam España didn’t come to play

Fun fact: like Lucas, I hadn’t had anything to eat all day when this clip dropped, and a kebab sounded amazing, lol. Another fun fact! When I realized what Lucas was doing, I had to stop the clip and take like 5 minutes to regroup, I was that shook.  I was really late recapping this clip on Twitter because I couldn’t deal with the enormity of it all.

Mis padres se pelean como cada mes, mes y medio (“My parents fight every four to six weeks”): Lucas says, “every month, month and a half.” “4 to 6 weeks” was shorter and, I felt, closer to the way English speakers talk about time. But really, Skam España is basically hell to sub because they talk quicker than any other Skam, including the French. If a sentence can be made shorter, but still keep the exact same meaning, we as a team feel blessed, lol.

Just in case it wasn’t immediately obvious, they literally just bought the kebabs and Eva didn’t spend the whole morning fixing them. And, also, that Lucas comes out to Eva over kebabs is an intentional homage to the og. In fact, in Spain, we eat kebabs like sandwiches, we don’t pick at them with forks/tongs, so Lucas and Eva are eating them like Jonas and Isak did.

I thought this would be as good a place as any to link to the Wikipedia article on LGBT rights in Spain. I’ll quote from the article: “Spain has been recognised as one of the most culturally liberal and LGBT-friendly countries in the world and LGBT culture has had a significant role in Spanish literature, music, cinema and other forms of entertainment as well as social issues and politics. Public opinion on homosexuality is noted by pollsters as being overwhelmingly positive, with a recent study conducted by Pew Research Center in 2013 indicating that more than 88 percent of Spanish citizens accept homosexuality, making it the most LGBT-friendly of the 39 countries Pew polled. LGBT visibility has also increased in several layers of society such as the Guardia Civil, army, judicial, and clergy. However, in other areas such as sports, the LGBT community remains marginalised. Spanish film directors such as Pedro Almodóvar have increased awareness regarding LGBT tolerance in Spain among international audiences. In 2007, Madrid hosted the annual Europride celebration and hosted World Pride in 2017. The cities of Madrid and Barcelona also have a reputation as two of the most LGBT-friendly cities in the world. Gran Canaria is also known worldwide as an LGBT tourist destination.” 

CLIP 3: Making his way downtown

Tampoco es para tanto (“it’s not that serious”): Another translation would be, “it’s not as bad as all that.” I think the line I went with was clearer and more specific.

Yo creo que ha mejorado (“I think it looks better”): Eva says, “I think it’s gotten better,” but I reworked it. Lol sometimes I wonder if people read these and wonder why I just do whatever the fuck I like, but I promise I try to stick to what sounds more natural to me in English.

Te está durando mucho (“It’s taking too long to heal”): Cris actually says that the cold sore is lasting too long (presumably lasting too long on Viri’s face, lol).

Okay, so my experience with Spanish guys is that they initiate cunnilingus on their own and without prodding (i.e. will eat girls out), in the hopes that the woman will return the favor. I have surveyed my friends and they have reported similar experiences. Girls have said that guys have never not gone down on them, and guys have reported having no issues doing it. Og Skam actually backs me up, as Chris says that a guy did it to her, once, in Gran Canaria. So, while the girls are pleased for Viri that Alejandro went down on her, they’re not about to give him the King of the School slo-mo treatment Jonas received for doing the same. (I do have to note that the girls were impressed that Jonas not only went down on an older girl, but that he actually got her to come with oral only.) Given what we later learn about Viri and Alejandro’s encounter, I’d bet money on Alejandro hoping Viri would take the hint and suck him off in return, but since she doesn’t mention doing so, I think she just didn’t.

I think Viri did allow Alejandro to go down on her when his cold sore was already visible, and I’m legit appalled, tbh.

I learned of the Callao youth center through Skam España, because I’ve never needed to go. That said, it is a real youth center and they were pleased and touched about being featured on the show. Honestly, if even one teenager in need learned of their services through the show, I’ll consider Skam España a resounding success.

I love that Amira has seemingly gone with Cris to that youth center sometime before the show. Tangent, but I love the way the Amira/Cris friendship (and relationship, if you wanted to read into them that way) has been developed through the season. I remember having discussions early in the season about why Cris would join the losers, when Viri referred to her as “that pretty girl over there” and Cris was surrounded by a group of people when she was first introduced. In my opinion, Amira and Cris are best friends, and before the girl squad, everyone else was just along for the ride. But I’m looking forward to what we could learn about Amira and Cris’ friendship (and relationship) in further seasons.

CLIP 4: 8 Simple Rules for Dating my Spanish Daughter

Dating in Spain! The concept of “a date” exists in Spain, it’s called “una cita.” But we rarely, if ever, use this word. In fact, I don’t think it’s been used at all through the season. What we do is “quedar,” i.e. arrange to meet at a specific place and time. But it’s important to note that you can “quedar” with your friends, a hookup or a boyfriend/girlfriend. Since this arrangement isn’t exclusive to romantic relationships, I’ve translated it as “hanging out.” Again, the word “cita” (date) exists in Spanish, so if it’s ever used, I want to make sure it has the proper impact for the audience. Other dating vocab:

“Salir juntos” (to go out together): If two people “salen juntos,” they’re a couple.

“Salir conmigo” (to go out with me): If you ask someone to “sal conmigo,” you’re asking them to hang out as a couple.

“¿Quieres ser mi novio/novia?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend/girlfriend?): This is how you’d make a relationship official, beyond just arranging to hook up.

Pillado (“hung up on her”): Lit. “caught.”

Cris says “bye!” in English. Jorge then says, “Really?”

Y parecía tonto (“And he seemed dumb”): This is a truncated, common Spanish idiom. The full idiom is, “y parecía tonto cuando lo compramos” (and he seemed dumb when we bought him). It is used when a person who is frequently timid or a wallflower does something assertive or takes charge.

Pero que andar quedando es de novios (“but that to have standing dates is a couple thing”): As I mentioned earlier, we don’t use the word “cita” all that often, and, as Hugo tells it, Cris didn’t use it to turn him down. Here’s what Cris meant: Cris thinks she and Hugo had a good time at Nora’s party, but she doesn’t want to make a thing out of it. She doesn’t want to hang out one-on-one. That includes hanging out together at each other’s houses, like Eva and Jorge sometimes do, or go do something together, like going to the movies or to get something to eat.

A veces Cris se pasa un poco de directa (“sometimes Cris is a bit savage”): I reworked this because “directa” means “straight-forward,” but “se pasa” is slangy. “Se pasa” would mean “to go too far,” so a literal translation would be, “sometimes Cris goes a little too far with the straight-forwardness.”

A mí me parece guay que haya ido con la verdad por delante (“I think it’s cool she was straight up”): Okay, so the literal translation is, “I think it’s cool she was honest upfront.” But…  It’s Jorge. He’s the Jonas expy. And I just could not and didn’t want not to use “straight up,” i.e. Jonas’ catchphrase.

El sábado ¡a las nueve, tío! (“Saturday… at 9pm, dude!”): This is another underrated moment. I don’t know if people remember, but Jorge’s excuse for not attending Nora’s party was that he was playing football at 9pm on a Saturday. Here he actually gets a text to play a game at 9pm on a Saturday, and he’s like, “who the fuck are these people?”

As I explained on Twitter at the time, Jorge mimics calling the cops over Eva being hungry. The joke is that Jorge would consider it an emergency that necessitates police involvement. This is a really common (and corny, natch) joke in Spain. We’re very dramatic, so obviously any situation, no matter how mundane, is on the verge of needing police intervention.

We all know that when Jorge asked Eva what she wanted to eat, her answer was pizza. Right? Just checking we’re all on the same page.

CLIP 5:  Vaginas and languages

Note about the message in Arabic: I was the one who originated the translation, after I asked a Middle Eastern friend if she could translate it for me. She translated the note as saying, “Equality between women and men – Rashid Alfadhili.” I thought it might be a direct quote from a writer or an activist, but if you search for the name online, all the references are to my Twitter. So, who is the mysterious Rashid Alfadhili?

The obgyn is singing Havana D’Primera’s Me dicen Cuba. The actor is indeed Cuban, and the character speaks in a noticeable Cuban accent.

If you have further questions about The Herpes Thing, I reblogged a post by @niteskycs and added my own commentary, including quotes from this scene.

There’s one more thing I want to mention wrt candidiasis/thrush/yeast infection. Candidiasis is an opportunistic infection and so, it’s an infection that takes advantage of an opportunity not normally available, such as a host with a weakened immune system. Because of this, and before antiretroviral drugs, people with AIDS often suffered from candidiasis and could die from it. Thus, it is notable that the obgyn thinks Viri may have candidiasis (which, again, gets ruled out). It makes it really obvious that he suspects Viri’s actual problem might be that she has a weakened immune system.

If you have further questions or commentary about this scene, feel free to hit up my inbox, reblog, reply, etc.

The positions of the girls behind Viri are a reference to og Skam.

CLIP 6: It always comes back to dicks

Cris is playing a game which consists of pulling the tab on a can back and forth as she recites the alphabet, until the tab breaks apart. The letter that she was saying out loud when the tab broke apart is the initial of her crush/loved one/person she’s fated to be with. Which in this case is H!

Alguien que haga que, sabes, te entre aquí una cosilla en el estómago (“someone who makes it so… you know, that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach”): The literal translation is, “someone who, you know, makes you feel a little thing in your stomach,” but Eva is referring to the “butterflies in your stomach” metaphor. The metaphor exists in Spanish as well (that’s what Bely Basarte’s Mariposas is about), but I think it’s been adopted after the English idiom became well-known in Spanish.

Un gilipollas integral (“an unadulterated asshole”): Viri says “integral,” which is a word we’d normally use to refer, like, to whole-grain bread or rice. While I think Viri calling Alejandro a “whole-grain asshole” would’ve been hilarious, I thought “unadulterated” would also be just as funny. As in, Alejandro’s assholishness has not been contaminated with any niceness. He’s 100% pure asshole.

Unos colegas y yo hemos alquilado un local (“Some buddies and I have rented a place”): This is a very Spanish way of putting things, I think. “Un local” is basically any business premises or shop unit (such as, for instance, at a mall). It can be as sparse as four walls and a water outlet, or a fully furnished club, or even factory premises on the outskirts of a city. Alejandro wasn’t very forthcoming with details, so I wasn’t sure what to expect from the “local” when this clip dropped. But, we’ve since come to learn that, in the universe of Skam España, there’s a Kose Club, which can be rented for private parties. And this is the place Alejandro and his buddies rented.

Capullo (“Prick”): “Capullo” is yet another word for penis. Its non-penis meaning is “flower bud” and, when talking about dicks, makes reference to the head of the penis. “Capullo,” in the dick sense, is pejorative.

CLIP 7: Doing recon

I’m assuming that, for this specific party, Alejandro and his buddies hired people who would serve alcohol to minors. Or just had some friends play the part of bartenders unofficially. Because this is some illegal ass shit.

De puta madre / De fruta madre (“That’s fucking great” / “That’s ducking great”): It looks as if Amira has renounced swearing, as well. I seem to recall that Sana Bakkoush would swear, but I can’t think of any example off the top of my head. Anyway, Amira accidentally swears when she compliments Cris’ pumpkin accessory. The girls call her on it, and she says a clean version. I’ve seen it subbed as “fruiting great,” which is the literal translation (“fruta” is fruit), but I looked into the ways Americans censor their speech, and went with “ducking,” myself.

Either way, I was really proud of myself when this clip dropped. There were several instances where I could’ve gone for a swear word while subbing Amira, but I had the feeling the character was intentionally keeping it clean. It felt great to have that feeling confirmed within the show.

Edward Scissorhands is really iconic, but Sweeney Todd came out in 2007. And, you know, it’s Tim Burton, not Benh Zeitlin. Hardly an obscure director. I guess Johnny Depp as Ichabod Crane wasn’t specific enough?

Is one of the second years dressed as Inu Yasha, or is it just me?

Que son súper chungas (“those girls are bad news”): I’d say “chunga” is most closely translated as being “ghetto.” These girls are bad news, girls you don’t want to fuck with, because they will fuck back with you ten times as hard. You know how in 90s sitcoms there are always older girls hanging in the school bathrooms teaching the underclasswomen to smoke? A girl who is “chunga” is that older girl.

Putivuelta (“slut round”): I’m pretty sure the concept doesn’t exist in English and, if it does, I haven’t come across it yet. When you arrive at a club, you and your friends check out the whole place, scoping out hot singles. As far as I’m aware, “putivueltas” are only ever performed by women and queer men, and the targets can be of any gender. I’m sure straight dudes have a name for what is essentially scoping out the place for chicks to hit on, but straight Spanish men, at least, do not call it “putivueltas.”

Uh, what is that awkward Hugo and Amira’s conversation about? Amira lets Hugo know that Cris is scoping out the place for singles, so she’s both letting him know Cris will be back and that Cris has moved on from Hugo onto newer pursuits. And then there’s a medium close up on Amira’s expression, and she looks Over It. Is Amira jealous of Cris because she wants Hugo? Or jealous of Hugo because she wants to be able to pine for Cris openly??????? (By the way, I assume saying “slut round” doesn’t count as swearing, Amira?)

The song in this clip is Brisa Fenoy’s Free. Brisa Fenoy also wrote Lo Malo, which the characters make references to and eventually shows up later in the season. Here’s Free, in English:

Baby, I am free I am free

Baby, I am free I’m ready for me I go out in what I want to go out I’m better without you I like everything

Without additives Without artificial flavoring, without lies Without regrets Without giving everything and lose it afterwards Without baggage to travel lighter

Without terms that put a brake in my progress Without modifying us with so much augmentation Let’s be flesh and bone people With a lot of virtues and few flaws

Let’s get together already Through transformation we have to demolish What we were will last me the day before The future is today, what are you going to be?

Baby, I am free I’m ready for me I go out in what I want to go out I’m better without you I like everything

Without tricks like those that hurt us Without losing those pounds that fool us My body is mine, and if I want I eat what I like, I’m the one in charge

We’re what we do to change what we are No more sexism, together with each other We’re not sex symbols, there’s a bit of everything here Let’s be so authentic that they can’t prevail over us

Respect and freedom We have to demand it Let’s be a unit They won’t be able to create us Respect and freedom We have to demand it Let’s be a unit They won’t be able to shut us up

Baby, I am free I’m ready for me I go out in what I want to go out I’m better without you I like everything about me

Respect and freedom We have to demand it They won’t be able to shut us up

Here and now let’s all shout Baby I am free

CLIP 8: Moments before tragedy strikes

Si nos hubieran cobrado la entrada, se hubieran sacado un pastizal (“if they charged for admission, they’d have made out like bandits”):  The literal translation would be, “If they’d charged us for admission, they’d have made a pasture.” Much like in English, you can say “dough” to refer to money, in Spain you can say “pasta” to do the same. A “pastizal” is a word with its own meaning (“pasture”), but it sounds like it could be large amounts of “pasta.”

Satanasa (“Lady Satan”): What Amira says can be literally translated as “Lady Satan.” I’ve never it before, but I think she’s going for a Halloween version of “Cheese!” 😂

Se le ha ido la pinza a Lara (“Lara lost her mind”): This idiom, which Jorge used all the way back in episode 1 to say something slipped off his mind, can also mean that Lara just lost her shit entirely!

It’s worth noting that the song playing when Lara slaps Eva, is actually playing in Eva’s mind. As you can see if you check the social media for the episode, Post Malone’s Better Now is still playing when Lara is pulled back from Eva. Here are the lyrics for the song playing in Eva’s mind (Jorge Marazu’s Simulacro), in English:

If this was a drill I bought it to the end It’s not going to be cheap to climb back up I have lost the measure And even though I had a taste I forget it’s a two-way street

The star lights went out Their circuit breaker tripped It hasn’t stopped snowing all day And even though they’re hurt My hopes and dreams I forget it’s a two-way street

The whims that get in the way Of instinct and reason, don’t know a goodbye without pain

Let’s not wait until tomorrow I wish you the best Now we’re getting to the end…

Social media: 

This episode had a lot of references to og Skam. I’ve noted the references in the clips where they happened. There were also references to og Skam on social media though. Most notably, the club where Alejandro hosts the Halloween party is called Kose Club, after Kosegruppe. Die Antwoord’s Baby on Fire, which is the song that plays when Iben’s squad fights the girl squad, is playing on the background of a couple ig stories.

It took me a while to notice that the kitty in the background of Cris’ pics switches from being Viri, to the second year girl Cris hooks up with.

Other:

Halloween has only become a thing in Spain in recent times, and mostly as an excuse for young people to host parties or clubs to host Halloween-themed nights. Kids don’t go trick and treating, although their parents may buy them Halloween-themed candy in grocery stores. As such, I’m not too bothered about Alejandro hosting a Halloween party in Saturday.

That said, if he wanted to host the party on Halloween proper, he could’ve done so. The 1st of November is a national holiday, All Saints’ Day. Traditionally, religious people visit family graves on this day, and leave flowers or candles. Since the 1st of November fell on a Thursday, schools were also out on Friday.