#so fun to wonder what assumptions could be made based on what my blog looks like and what i post

[peachssodapop]

online anonymity is fun, sometimes I like wondering how y‘all would think i dress irl

[karniss-bg3]

Something I think about an bit is spiders are cold blooded so are driders and if so how dose kar’niss del with winter or the shadow lands they look quite cold and last question could you ever tell me how you think an drider book lung works (aha sorry that’s all and I love your posts)

I had to go down some wacky rabbit holes to really hash this one out. One thing I will say for this blog, it’s made me more educated about topics I never would’ve considered before. I expect by the time my tenure is finished I’ll walk away a certified genius.

...Or just as goofy as I’ve always been. Either way it’s a net positive.

Here is the problem I run into when trying to work out the intricacies of fantasy creatures...I don’t know what rules to use. By that I mean there are nuances to consider when asking “How does Kar’niss _____?” Am I basing this off of real world examples or examples from the world in which they are from? If so how does that impact the overall conclusion I come to? Is it fair to compare a drider to an animal from our planet without knowing the physics of Faerun? Is their gravity the same, the climate, the oxygen distribution, the atmosphere? It’s the classic “Adrian overthinks bullshit because he doesn’t know how to do otherwise” story hour. That isn’t even taking into consideration how magic may impact the answer especially considering magic is intangible and a made up concept whose rules change from medium to medium. This is the world’s most frustrating fun house where every mirror reflects a different outcome and I’m too derpy to consider them all.

Now that I’ve got the long winded non-sense out of the way, here is the best assessment I could cobble together.

The problem with Kar’niss’ anatomy is it’s unclear how the two halves work together. Spiders in our world do have lungs but they do not have active breathing mechanisms like a diaphragm in humans. However, Kar’niss has the ability to speak, ragged as it may be. This leaves me with the assumption that the lungs in his torso still function, giving him the ability to inhale and exhale in order to talk. But Kar’niss’ heart and lungs would be far too small and pathetic to maintain the spider half with as large as it is. So I have to conclude that even if the two halves of them are attached, the only thing shared between them is a digestive tract. The blood he consumes has to go somewhere and he can’t nourish only one half and neglect the other. I believe all of his digestion is done in the spider half and the stomach in his drow torso is basically non-functional as a result.

Where we run into a bit of a hitch more stems from how big Kar’niss is. Even if his spider body doesn’t have to worry about maintaining the drow torso via heart and lungs, it has another issue; Available oxygen. Prehistoric insects from the Carboniferous period were huge, far larger than anything we see today. This is because of how dense our air was with oxygen which allowed them to increase in size without side-effects. So I have to ask, how high is the oxygen content in Faerun? Does it matter? Probably not! It does make me wonder how an arachnid body that large, whether drider or giant spider, survives if the oxygen in the air is low. Humans, giants, demons, driders and all manner of creatures can co-exist in a fantasy realm where the rules are made up and the points don’t matter.

While I could go into detail about the difference between human lungs and spider lungs I think I’d be splitting hairs at that point. When it comes to Kar’niss I think both bodies have working organs that are suited to the body they are in, which is the only reason this macabre union works at all.

As for how Kar’niss survives the cold that is also an interesting question to answer. Driders don’t usually wear armor but they can if so inclined, which means they aren’t worried about being naked as a jay bird. This question is a bit compounded by the fact that most driders don’t leave the Underdark, an area notorious for lack of sunlight. So I had to tap dance my way back to real world spiders to find a reasonable answer for this.

The first step in how spiders survive the winter is by adapting to the cold temperatures. They do this by increasing their metabolic rate, which helps them generate more heat. This allows them to stay warm even in the coldest temperatures. They also produce antifreeze proteins, which help them survive in temperatures as low as -10°C. Another strategy spiders use to survive the winter is by avoiding freezing. When temperatures drop too low, spiders can start to freeze with the water particles surrounding them. To prevent this, spiders produce cryoprotectants, which help them survive in sub-zero temperatures. These cryoprotectants act like antifreeze, preventing the spider’s cells from freezing and allowing them to survive even in the coldest temperatures.

While I am not sure if this is the same thing driders would do, I imagine they must come with some way to contend with ambient temperatures to keep themselves from freezing. I vote slapping a striped scarf on him and hand him a cup of hot cocoa. It’ll taste like ass to him, but it should do the trick all the same. Just don’t let him spit out the hot liquid onto your face, I am not responsible for any burn related injuries that may occur.

I hope even a fraction of this made sense. It was the long way of saying “RANDOM BULLSHIT, GO!” Eh, close enough.

Thanks for the ask!

(Side note: I just learned drider vampires exist. As if things weren't already fucked up enough for the poor bastards.)

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 8}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian didn’t have to go into the bar until noon, so until Viviane arrived for her first day at 11:30, it was just him and Nyx.

The sun was out, and Cassian intended to take full advantage of it. Nyx was in his stroller and Cassian was jogging down the side of the Sidra. He’d only had him for the last half hour.

After Cassian’s breakdown last night, Nesta had apparently decided to let Cassian sleep in. Before Nyx could even cry, Nesta had gotten him up, ready, and fed before she left for work that morning.

He was mortified that she’d had to see that, that he’d broken down in front of her like that. But there was so much of Rhys looking at him, all the time and he’d been holding it in for so long. And knowing that he hadn’t been able to figure out what Nyx needed was the final straw last night.

After Nesta had hugged him, he’d finally gotten the strength to pull himself together, and he pulled from her grasp. He’d noticed the dress she wore to go out then, showing just as much skin as that damn towel had, and had made an excuse about being exhausted. He’d shut himself in his room, staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep around two or three in the morning.

He wasn’t surprised she had barely wanted to see him this morning. She probably thought he was an irresponsible mess, probably figured she was better off taking care of Nyx on her own.

And maybe she was.

Nesta had some natural motherly instinct, just like Feyre and Elain had. It was an Archeron trait, Cassian had no doubt.

And although the Archeron sisters certainly hadn’t had a perfect upbringing, the three of them had always had each other.

Cassian couldn’t say the same.

His mom died young.

He’d never had a father.

Or siblings.

Or any other extended family.

He’d just had Rhysand and Azriel, and although fatherhood had come decently easy to both of them, Cassian couldn’t say the same for himself. He was the goofy, unpredictable uncle of the group, he was good in that role.

Not the ideal father figure.

Cassian picked up his speed.

Nyx giggled and threw his hands in the air. 

Regardless of his mood, he couldn’t help but smile down at him.

He loved this kid, and he knew that this kid loved him. He may not be his father, but he would do his damndest to make sure he knew how much he was loved. Every damn day.

*

Cassian had just gotten out of the shower and gotten dressed when he heard the doorbell chime.

Nyx was standing in his playpen, holding onto the padded railing when Cassian rushed to the door, throwing it open.

“Viviane, hey,” he said, opening it wide enough for her to step through. She gave him a polite smile and he shut the door behind her. “Okay, so Nyx is over there, Nesta left a note on the fridge with our cell numbers, the number for her restaurant, my bar, uh, his pediatrician-.”

Viviane laughed quietly and headed for the playpen. “I’ll call you if I need anything, but I’m sure this little dude is going to be an angel.”

She reached down and scooped him up and Nyx did nothing but beam up at her.

“He’s in good hands,” Viviane went on when she saw the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

“I know,” he smiled, although hesitantly. “Nesta will be home at four-thirty.”

“We’re going to have fun,” Viviane promised, and Nyx giggled.

Cassian took that as cue to leave and hurried out the door. It was stressful, leaving him for the first time, alone with someone they had only just met.

He found himself wondering if Rhysand or Feyre would approve.

He prayed they did.

When he got to the bar, Kallias was already there, making sure everything was ready for opening.

“You’re two minutes late, boss,” he teased.

Cassian snorted. “New nanny. Had a hard time leaving.”

Kallias raised a brow. “Hot nanny?” 

Cassian grinned as he came behind the bar. “Just your type, actually.” 

Before the conversation could deepen, Cassian seeing the intrigue in Kal’s eye, he was heading to the store room, grabbing a few bottles to keep within reaching distance when they undoubtedly got a little busy over lunch.

“I like hot nannies,” Kallias hollered. “It would be nice of you to share.”

Cassian snorted, heading back up towards the bar. He didn’t reply, shaking his head as he glanced at his friend, and he set about cutting and readying the garnishes for drinks.

With a dramatic sigh, far louder than it needed to be for Cass to hear him, Kallias began turning on the televisions around the room, two on different sports broadcasts and one on a local music channel.

Maybe he would set Kallias up with Viviane.

Even he had to admit…they’d make a pretty damn cute couple.

*

It was just before 4:30 when Nesta pushed open the front door, prepared to find the house thrown into chaos.

But, it was spotless, Nyx was sleeping, and Viviane was on the couch, reading a book. She looked up at Nesta and smiled.

“You’re home,” she whispered, even though Nyx wasn’t in the room. “He’s been down for about forty-five minutes. We played hard today. I think he’s worn out.”

Nesta blinked, carefully stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “He was good?”

“Oh, he was great,” Viviane promised, standing up and closing her book with a bookmark placed neatly between it’s pages. “Although, his diaper rash is getting pretty bad. I changed him more often to try and keep him as dry and rash-creamed as possible. But, you may want to keep an eye out. I’ve seen worse, but you still may want to get a prescription from his doctor to help clear it up.”

Nesta hadn’t even noticed that Nyx had had a rash and chastised herself. “Yes. Absolutely, I’ll make him an appointment as soon as I can.”

Viviane smiled again, stopping to grab her purse where it sat by the floor of the couch and dropped her book inside. It was well loved, Nesta could tell, and for a moment, she considered asking what the pretty, young woman was reading.

And then she remembered who she’d been here alone with that morning.

Her eyes popped open. “Oh, gods, I hope Cassian was okay this morning. He’s not…always on his best behavior.”

Viviane brows bunched towards each other, confusion on her face. “I don’t follow?”

“I hope he didn’t say anything too inappropriate,” she rushed out. “He can be a bit much in the mornings, and-.”

“Oh, no, no,” Viviane interrupted, her crystalline eyes going wide. “No, he was an absolute gentleman. On good behavior.” She then added, “And please, don’t mistake my enthusiasm for this job, Nesta, I’m not interested in your husband or anything like-.”

It was Nesta’s turn to interrupt. “Husband?! No, no, Cassian isn’t my husband. Cauldron, no we just have to live together. He’s not even my boyfriend. I can barely stand the guy.”

Viviane hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed-.”

“It’s alright,” Nesta said, and knew her cheeks were red. “I could see how it would be easy to make that assumption.”

Viviane nodded and rocked back on her heels, uncomfortably. “Right, well...I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Nesta said, trying her best to give a convincing smile.

She knew she was failing.

Convincing smiles weren’t her specialty.

But, husband? As if she would ever marry a man like Cassian. They may have had a moment where they didn’t absolutely loathe each other the night before, but that’s only because he was having a complete mental breakdown.

Nesta may be a bitch, but she wouldn’t kick a man when he’s already down.

Well, at least not in that situation. In a different set of circumstances, perhaps she would. 

Viviane let herself out and Nesta said her goodbyes, and shook her head.

Husband.

Oh, fuck no.

After a quick call to Nyx’s pediatrician, and an appointment made for the following afternoon, Nesta set out to make dinner. Nothing too crazy, just a new recipe she’d been toying with at the restaurant and she needed an unbiased opinion - one from someone whom she didn’t employ - to give her an honest opinion. She knew Cassian would be at the bar until eight-thirty or nine, but the chicken salad would be better chilled anyways.

Or she thought it was. She’d have to ask what he thought about that.

She was halfway through chopping up the roast chicken she’d spiced and marinated all day when the monitor to her left let out a lonely cry. Washing her hands, Nesta was hurrying up the stairs and found Nyx standing in his crib. He immediately reached for her, those blue eyes still drowsy with sleep, but Nesta knew he needed to be changed as soon as she got within sniffing distance. Hopefully he’d be sleepy enough that he wouldn’t fight her on the diaper change.

“What did Cassian feed you for lunch, kiddo?” She asked, scrunching her nose as she unsnapped the onesie he wore, and swapped out his diaper for a clean one.

True to Viviane’s word, Nyx had developed a splotchy, red rash on his bottom. After setting Nyx up in a swing by the door, Nesta took a few minutes to Google what a normal case of diaper rash looked like. Afterwards, she had wiped her search history and was thankful she’d gone ahead and called the pediatrician’s office, especially considering they were now closed until the following morning.

She also had to figure out a way to thank Viviane for her suggestion. Nesta almost felt like she owed the girl an apology for her initial reaction to her, based on her assumptions of Cassian. Not that she had any idea how Nesta had felt, but she still felt bad.

She may know a few things about Cassian Nazari, but she knew nothing about Viviane, not yet. Nesta should really give her the benefit of the doubt.

Even though such a thing was not her specialty.

The second they walked into the kitchen, Nyx was crying and reaching toward the fridge. Nesta put him in his high chair, letting him cry it out as she fixed him supper.

In the meantime, she dumped a pile of strawberry puffs on his tray.

He was immediately stuffing them into his mouth.

“You know, I’ve tasted those and they’re not all that great,” Nesta said, preparing him a small bowl of sweet potatoes.

Nyx looked at her and held up a star-shaped puff. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, but thank you for the offer.”

Nesta finished her salad and put the rest in the fridge for Cassian to eat once he got home. After taking a seat, and placing her salad and Nyx’s potatoes on the table, she dug in.

It was, obviously, delicious.

Nyx even seemed to be enjoying his sweet potatoes, though, as always more ended up on his high chair’s tray than in his mouth.

“You have an art for making a mess, buddy,” she said, shaking her head as she lifted another spoonful of the sweet potatoes to his mouth.

He took the bite into his mouth, and sprayed most of it back out in a raspberry.

She raised an eyebrow, setting the bowl down in front of her. “You’re just playing at this point, aren’t you?”

To say yes, in fact, he was, Nyx smacked a chubby hand into the mushed up mix of puffs and sweet potato on his tray.

“That means it’s bath time and then bed time,” she mused, wiping as much of him down as she could. She decided to go ahead and ditch his smeared onesie in the laundry room, and carried a diapered Nyx up to the bathroom.

A mostly uneventful bath later, she discovered Viviane must have been telling the truth about playing hard today. Nyx had been asleep before she’d made it through the second page of his favorite book, his pacifier falling out of his full, little lips.

She gently laid him down in the crib, and tiptoed downstairs to flip through bad reality TV until Cassian got home.

She hated how much she had thought about Cassian throughout the day. For once, it wasn’t about his body. Instead, it was about the fact that he had spent five minutes in her arms the night before, sobbing. She wasn’t sure what to think.

Cassian had a rough exterior. 

He was known for his good looks and how many women those looks attracted. Since Nesta met him five years prior, there were only a handful of things she could say about Cassian.

He was beautiful, but that much was obvious.

He knew how to make beautiful instruments, which meant he was good with his hands.

Nesta would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about just how good he was with those hands.

Lastly, Cassian was cocky as hell. He was hot. He knew he was hot. And he had to convince everyone who didn’t think he was hot that he was hot.

But, one thing that Nesta hadn’t known about Cassian until the night before?

He cared.

He really, really cared.

And he was scared.

She had been willing to put aside their differences for Nyx. They’d come to that agreement when he’d begun to depend on them. But now, she wanted to make things work…for him. He was terrified of letting Rhys down, something she understood. Every time she thought of something she may have done wrong, all she could think about was how disappointed Feyre would be in her.

Except…she knew that wasn’t true. Just like she knew that Rhys would never be disappointed in Cassian. The fact that he’d stepped up, had been willing to care for Rhys and Feyre’s only child…

She just had to make sure Cassian believed it.

Nesta was half asleep on the couch when the door unlocked and opened, Cassian walking through. He blinked once upon seeing her, clearly not having expected her to be downstairs when he got home.

“Hey,” she said, stretching. “How was your day?”

He tossed his keys on the table by the door, looking around, pointedly not looking at her. “It was good. Where’s Nyx?”

“He’s been down since seven-thirty or so, Viviane did great today,” she said, watching him as he walked into the kitchen. “I owe you an apology. You were right, she’s good.”

She heard a grunt of acknowledgment as the fridge opened. He came back into the living room, shaking up a bottled protein shake and cracking it open.

“I made a roasted chicken salad,” she said. “I put leftovers in the fridge for you.” “That’s okay,” he said, voice low. “You can take it to work with you tomorrow. Don’t want to take your food.”

Nesta blinked. “I put it in the fridge for you-.”

“I’m tired,” he said, heading toward the stairs. “Night.”

Nesta’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Cassian stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

I made you dinner. I stayed up to make sure you were alright. “Nothing. Just didn’t realize you were so insistent on being an asshole this evening.”

“An asshole?” he repeated. “I just got home, I’m tired, and now I’m an asshole?” 

Nesta just shook her head, falling back on the couch. “Nevermind. Goodnight.” 

Cassian just stood there, looking half like he wanted to go upstairs and half like he wanted to chuck the half-empty bottle at the back of her head. He’d already had a long, horrible day full of shitty, rude customers. He hadn’t even realized it was nearing Spring Break until the underage kids with shitty, fake ID’s had descended on the bar today. The amount of customers he had to turn away since they were practically children possibly outweighed the actual customers he and Kal had served.

He’d also had Nesta on his mind all day, on the pity she had to feel for him after he lost it the night before. The fact that she made him dinner was just proof of it, that he was right.

“You didn’t need to make me dinner,” he said, staring at the wall behind her head. “I can take care of myself, alright?”

Nesta’s eyes were closed, her arms crossed as she laid back on the couch. “I didn’t say that you couldn’t.”

“Just because I lost it for a minute last night, doesn’t mean that I’m helpless,” Cassian went on. “I’m just as capable of taking care of Nyx, of being a grown ass adult, as you are.”

Nesta’s eyes opened, then, and she slowly looked over to him. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, simply.

“Really?” Nesta asked. “Because you’re acting like a gods damned child right now.”

Cassian snorted as he shook his head. “I don’t have the patience for you tonight. Goodnight.”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nesta snapped.

“It’s all you think I’m good for, so I guess I may as well act like it, too,” he called out, not turning back to look at her.

The words struck her, made her feel two feet tall, especially considering how she’d begun to regard him instead. But she wasn’t able to stop the bite of her words as she snapped, “Oh, fuck you.”

Cassian didn’t say a word as he topped the stairs and headed down the hall.

She almost wished he’d slammed the door, almost wished he’d made a spectacle of being angry and shutting her out again, after what she’d thought may have been progress the night before. 

It was almost that much worse that his door shut with a soft click.

[evanescentjasmine]

I’m going to talk about a little pet peeve of mine with regard to portrayal of poc in fic, TMA specifically since that’s what I mostly read and write for. 

I suppose I should first start by saying that, of course, poc are not a monolith, and I’m certain there are other poc who have many different views on this issue. And also this post is in no way meant to demonise, shame, or otherwise discourage people from writing poc in fic if they’re doing something differently. This is just a thing I’ve been noodling on for a while and have had several interesting conversations with friends about, and now that I think I’ve figured out why I have this pet peeve, I figured I’d gather my thoughts into a post.

As a result of the fact we have no canonical racial, ethnic, or religious backgrounds for our main TMA cast, we’ve ended up with many diverse headcanons, and it’s absolutely lovely to see. I’m all for more diversity and I’m always delighted to see people’s headcanons. 

However, what often happens is I’ll be reading a fic and plodding along in a character’s PoV and get mention of their skin colour. And nothing else. I find this, personally, extremely jarring. In a short one-shot it makes sense, because you’re usually touching on one scenario and then dipping out. Likewise if the fic is in a different setting, is cracky, or is told from someone else’s PoV, that’s all fine. But if I’m reading a serious long-fic close in the poc’s head and...nothing? That’s just bizarre to me.

Your heritage, culture, religion, and background, all of those affect how you view the world, and how the world views you in return. How people treat you, how you carry yourself, what you’re conscious of, all of that shifts. And the weird thing is that many writers are aware of this when it comes to characters being ace or trans or neurodivergent—and I’m genuinely pleased by that, don’t get me wrong. Nothing has made my ace self happier than the casual aceness in TMA fics that often resonates so well with my experience. But just as gender, orientation, and neurodivergence change how a character interacts with their world, so do race, ethnicity, and religion. 

As a child, I spent a couple of years in England while my mother was getting her degree. Though I started using Arabic less and less, my mother still spoke to me almost exclusively in Arabic at home. We still ate romy cheese and molokhia and the right kind of rice, though we missed out on other things. She managed to get an Egyptian channel on TV somehow, which means I still grew up with different cultural touchstones and make pop-culture references that I can’t share with my non-Arabic-speaking friends. She also became friends with just about every Egyptian in her university, so for those years I had a bevy of unrelated Uncles and Aunties from cities all over Egypt, banding together to go on outings or celebrate our holidays.

As an adult who sometimes travels abroad solo, and as a fair-skinned Arab who’s fluent in English, usually in a Western country the most I’ll get is puzzled people trying to parse my accent and convinced someone in my family came from somewhere. When they hear my name, though, that shifts. I get things like surprise, passive-aggressive digs at my home region, weird questions, insistence I don’t look Egyptian (which, what does that even mean?) or the ever-popular, ever-irritating: Oh, your English is so good!

At airports, with my Egyptian passport, it’s less benign. I am very commonly taken aside for extra security, all of which I expect and am prepared for, and which always confuses foreign friends who insisted beforehand that surely they wouldn’t pull me aside. Unspoken is the fact I, y’know, don’t look like what they imagine a terrorist would. But I’m Arab and that’s how it goes, despite my, er, more “Western” leaning presentation. 

This would be an entirely different story if I were hijabi, or had darker skin, or a more pronounced accent. I am aware I’m absolutely awash with privilege. Likewise, it would be different if I had a non-Arab name and passport. 

So it’s slightly baffling to me as to why a Jon who is Pakistani or Indian or Arab and/or Black British would go through life the exact same way a white British character would. 

Now, I understand that race and ethnicity can be very fraught, and that many writers don’t want to step on toes or get things wrong or feel it isn’t their place to explore these things, and certainly I don’t think it’s a person’s place to explore The Struggles of X Background unless they also share said background. I’m not saying a fic should portray racism and microaggressions either (and if they do, please take care and tag them appropriately), but that past experiences of them would affect a character. A fic doesn’t have to be about the Arab Experience With Racism (™) to mention that, say, an Arab Jon headed to the airport in S3 for his world tour would have been very conscious to be as put together as he could, given the circumstances, and have all his things in order. 

And there’s so much more to us besides. What stories did your character grow up with? What language was spoken at home? Do they also speak it? If not, how do they feel about that? What are their comfort foods? Their family traditions? The things they do without thinking? The obscure pop-culture opinions they can’t even begin to explain? (Ask me about the crossover between Egyptian political comedy and cosmic horror sometime…)

I’m not saying you’ll always get it right. Hell, I’m not saying I always get it right either. I’m sure someone can read one of my fics and be like, “nope, this isn’t true to me!” And that’s okay. The important thing, for me, is trying.

Because here’s the thing. 

I want you to imagine reading a fic where I, a born and raised Egyptian, wrote white characters in, say, a suburb in the US as though they shared my personal experiences. It’s a multi-generational household, people of the same gender greet with a kiss on each cheek, lunch is the main meal, adults only move out when they get married, every older person they meet is Auntie or Uncle, every bathroom has a bidet, there’s a backdrop of Muslim assumptions and views of morality, and the characters discuss their Eid plans because, well, everyone celebrates Eid, obviously.

Weird, right? 

So why is this normal the other way around? 

Have you ever stopped to wonder why white (and often, especially American) experiences are considered the default? The universal inoffensive base on which the rest is built? 

Yes, I understand that writers are trying to be inoffensive and respectful of other backgrounds. But actually, I find the usual method of having the only difference be their skin colour or features pretty reductive. We’re more than just a paint job or a sprinkle of flavour to add on top of the default. Many of us have fundamentally different life experiences and ignoring this contributes to that assumption of your experience being universal. 

Yes, fic is supposed to be for fun and maybe you don’t want to have to think about all this, and I get that completely. I have all the respect in the world for writers who tag their TMA fics as an American AU, or who don’t mention anyone’s races. I get it. But when you have characters without a canonical race and you give them one, you’re making a decision, and I want you to think about it. 

Yes, this is a lot of research, but the internet is full of people talking about themselves and their experiences. Read their articles, read their blogs, read their twitter threads, watch their videos, see what they have to say and use it as a jumping-off point. I’m really fond of the Writing With Color blog, so if you’re not sure where to start I’d recommend giving them a look. 

Because writers outside of the Anglosphere already do this research in order to write in most fandoms. Writers of colour already put themselves in your shoes to write white characters. And frankly, given the amount of care that many white writers put into researching Britishisms, I don’t see why this can’t extend to other cultural differences as well.

[historicallyace]

Hi hello, I've gone through your whole blog and it's fantastic! Now for my question, which is actually a general...wondering? Have you heard or seen sources for why the AVEN founder, David Jay, is apparently homophobic/misogynist/AntiSemitic? Myself and other Ace Twitter people are looking, but so far all we've found is normal queer growing pains and people making stuff up. I saw that you intended to look into AVEN eventually, so I thought maybe you'd have info?

I’m not planning on doing a post on AVEN any more at this point, because I’m so far removed from that drama and that website that at this point it just feels silly, but yeah, we can talk about David Jay. That might as well be how I start my day.

Let’s start with the fact that these arguments, regardless of any truth to them, are always being made in bad faith. The argument is never “David Jay is a bad person and shouldn’t be in charge of AVEN (aside: is he actually in charge of anything any more? He’s not listed on the moderation team at AVEN any more), and you probably shouldn’t use him as a source of information about asexuality,” it’s always “David Jay is a bad person, and therefore asexuality is bad, and therefore all asexual people are bad.” One of those, given reasonable evidence (take note of that disclaimer, it’ll be relevant later), is a reasonable argument. One of those isn’t.

With that said, let’s break down the arguments under the cut.

If they’re saying “David Jay is homophobic!” what they most likely mean is “David Jay made a joke on an AVEN thread once that involved a slur that I don’t think he has the right to use!” Here’s the thread, which is a shitshow all the way down to be honest, but is peak 2003 Internet. User AVENguy is David Jay, and posts in the thread about changing a university LGBTQ+ group’s acronym to include the word f*g. Given that no such university group has any web presence at all, ever, that I can find (and in particular, Wesleyan University, which is the school Jay attended, seems to generally use queer for its services and student groups), I’m reasonably confident that is is meant to be a joke poking fun at the length of the extended acronym, which you’d think exclusionists would love given how much they love chopping that acronym off at the knees in defiance of all history and logic. Now, I’m not saying that it’s a joke in good taste. But it smells like a joke to me, and doesn’t get treated as one in the court of Internet opinion.

Whether Jay actually has the right to use that particular slur is, to my mind, up for debate as he has had relationships with men (I believe he’s currently in a committed polyamorous relationship with a man and a woman?). I don’t know whether he IDs as bi in addition to ace, although I know people on Tumblr have made that claim. I’ve never seen a source one way or the other. I don’t know whether he’s attracted to men. I do know that I’m 100% not interested in interrogating what words he does and does not have permission to use based on a detailed history of his relationships.

If they’re saying “David Jay is a misogynist!” what they most likely mean is “David Jay has had sex and didn’t enjoy it, and the way he talks about it in interviews is uncomfortable.” See this interview for an example of this. What statements like this get interpreted into is the classic exclusionist line of “asexual people are being manipulative if they have sex”. The way Jay talks about sex is definitely not the way that someone who isn’t ace would expect to talk about sex. It’s not the way that I talk about sex, as an asexual person. But I’m not uncomfortable in a “this man is definitely treating these women badly” way, I’m uncomfortable in a “oh boy, you were obviously making some choices here that weren’t great for you” way. YMMV.

I’ve also heard allegations that Jay was “documenting his sex life with his ex-wife on AVEN.” Given that 1) Jay has never been married, 2) I don’t have enough search terms to go on to find the threads in question, and 3) I definitely don’t remember seeing something like that back in the day when I was actually active on AVEN, I’m inclined to discount that, but it’s an argument that’s out there.

If they’re saying “David Jay is antisemitic!” what they most likely mean is “I don’t like the AVEN logo.” This is honestly one I’d never heard before, and I’m not confident that this is right. If David Jay has actually said or done something that is antisemitic, though, I’m not able to find reference to it. So I’m guessing it stems from something like this, in which an anon is calling out the AVEN logo as antisemitic (under the assumption that is is based on the pink triangle). AVEN’s triangle gradient logo is based on the Kinsey scale (see here for an example of this diagram in use). It is a reconfiguration of the Storms Model. The fact that it is the same shape as the pink triangle is coincidental.

I feel like there could also be a connection to the AVEN mod drama of 2015-2016 - at the time, AVEN’s forums had rules that were enforced in such a way that peoples’ threads would get locked for pointing out that something someone else had said was bigoted (under “personal attacks” rules IIRC). I don’t remember whether there were specific incidences around that rule with antisemitic hate speech, but it is possible. Striking this part because I’ve managed to pull up some of the old references to the mod drama (see here for some details) which was actually older than I remembered it being, and am not finding any references to antisemitism accusations. So it’s probably just the triangle, which again, has no connection to the pink triangle. Two things can be the same shape without being based off each other.

So there you have it. These are the crimes of which David Jay has been accused. I find the evidence to be specious and open to interpretation at best, and flat-out lies at worst. You can, of course, make your own judgement calls.

My personal opinion is that I don’t really like the guy, but I will defend to the death the facts that he is not the be-all and end-all of asexuality, and he probably doesn’t deserve all of the vitriol that is slung at him.

[thegrandkinghimself]

who is oikawa tooru?

i guess that’s a weird way to start off a post, considering just how popular oikawa is in this fandom. i’m absolutely certain that he’s still one of the most popular characters if i can take the #oikawasear trend on twitter a couple of weeks ago seriously. (i will be mourning that iwaoi is no longer the top ship in this fandom. it’s devastating to me on a personal level). and i can’t say that i’m any different, either, otherwise i wouldn’t have made this blog or this post. but i guess the reason i’ve been itching to write this is because i’ve been in this fandom--and more specifically, a fan of oikawa--for about four or five years now. i devour the content available, and i can assure you that i’ve read too many of the fanfictions on ao3 to be healthy, and never before have i seen a character whose characterization is so hotly disputed. 

and i get it. he’s a complex person. he’s kind of awkward in that there is a very clear disconnect between his outward personality and who he is alone. it’s a very hard balance to strike, especially when you consider just how much conjecture goes on in his characterization among fans and in discourse. he’s really easy to project and certain traits, correct or otherwise, are amplified based off how authors perceive him. there’s plenty of presumptions that can be made based on his on-screen actions/thoughts/beliefs that can be taken to some very logical conclusions. 

but i’ve also seen people write him in ways that don’t strike me as particularly truthful. he’s type casted into stereotypes that don’t do him justice, or made into something that is vaguely like oikawa, but not quite. in the following post, i’ll be trying to dispel misunderstandings of his character, if only for my own sanity. 

tl;dr i think that oikawa is chronically one of the most misrepresented characters in fandom and i want to fix that

exclaimer: i am solely an anime-watcher; i have seen snippets of the manga and therefore have a general idea of what is going on.

let’s establish some very very basic stuff. just to keep it simple, i’m not going to talk about anything beyond what has been published via the anime (as of season four). 

Oikawa Tooru | 及川徹 

gender: male

d.o.b.: 1994.7.20. or 20 July, 1994

height: 184.3 cm

weight: 72.2 kg

occupation: high school 3rd year, class 6

position/number: setter, 1 (captain)

here’s something that’s never pointed out: oikawa is in class 6 which, if we go off the trend of every other school in haikyuu!!, means that he is in a college preparatory class aka he’s pretty dang smart. it’s not confirmed or anything, but it a. follows the trend of every other class 6 student and b. is the highest class available among seijoh 3rd years (classes 5, 3, and 1). don’t get the idea that he’s dumb or unintelligent, or even that his strengths only lie in the classroom because that would be a gross understatement of his skills.

anywho. 

generally speaking, i like to start with the building blocks of his personality because there’s so much room for assumptions. here are the things that i think make up his core personality:

intelligence/knowledgeable: not only academically speaking, but he’s also well-versed in people. he knows how to play them--what will make someone more confident, more doubtful, what will help his teammates succeed. clearly, oikawa is very knowledgeable in human thought patterns. or he’s dedicated a lot of time to knowing them. 

loyalty: of all of oikawa’s traits, i think this one gets talked about the least, but we know it to be true. we make jokes about “you should have come to shiratorizawa” but it really shows you exactly how loyal, how much trust, oikawa has in this team that he has spent three years shaping. he never stops believing in the work that he has put in, and especially the hard work that his teammates have put into their volleyball. 

hardworking: one of the most well-known things about oikawa. most fans already know that his white knee pad is actually a knee brace. ‘nuff said. i salute you, good sir. 

insecurity: oikawa’s insecurities are perhaps his most notable trait. in a sense, he’s sort of the underdog--so good, but never quite good enough to accomplish what he’s set out to do. and we know that he’s struggled with his doubts since junior high, literally since he was 12 or 13, and that’s informed all of his character from the moment he ran into ushijima. oikawa is someone who is defined by his insecurities. 

oikawa is a lot of things. he’s introduced as someone who is very flamboyant--he’s built up by kageyama as the best setter, his senpai literally and figuratively, his initial shots are all of smug smiles and easy, unfaltering swagger in the face of this new team. even his theme, all rambunctious brass and jazzy, is meant to be all in your face, here’s the big boss! he’s someone who is petty and silly and seems to favor shallow conversation. but he’s oikawa, so there’s a surprising amount of depth in the little time that we have with him. there’s a reason that, in any other franchise, he’d probably be the protagonist.

he is someone full of contradictions. he’s childish and he spends time with a bunch of girls and is very clearly someone who likes to project a certain image of himself to the public (see: his cute lil’ humming run after his yell in s4e23 to make him seem kind of normal). but he’s also spent a lot of time with himself. in fact, if we take the few scenes we have of him alone and his bedroom (bare, spartan, meticulous) into account, oikawa actually is much more solemn and/or serious than the image he projects. he’s comfortable in the silences between all the white noise. he’s alright just being with iwaizumi. he allows himself to dwell on the past and his shortcomings, while also looking forward to the future. his ambition and passion to improve drive him, but his past failures weigh him down. they haunt him.

personally, i think that he’s naturally a pretty silly guy when given the chance. it’s not just for show. iwaizumi would even corroborate this à la oikawa’s introduction speech in s1. he likes having fun when he can with his friends. if we assume that oikawa is most himself with iwaizumi, then we definitely know that’s the case (see: “are you my mom, iwa-chan?”), and there’s nothing wrong with that. but i think that the most basic traits of his character, combined with his experiences in volleyball, have pushed him to be this person who is mired in doubt. it’s forced him to go down a path where something that he once loved for the fun of it has now become the source of his ire. it’s really just that simple. maybe in another life, things would be different and oikawa wouldn’t have to struggle as much. but that’s really just a part of the human experience, isn’t it? and, in all honesty, would we really love oikawa as much without all his vices?

and maybe this is getting into speculation, but i don’t think it’s a difficult argument to make that oikawa is really mature. he’s introspective. i say introspective because the revelations that he’s had in regards to his own strengths and weaknesses--those are things he’s had to confront and deal with since he was in junior high (starts at 12 years of age). it takes someone with a lot of maturity and self-awareness to realize those kinds of things about himself.

and he’s stronger than he gets credit for. most people depict him as a crybaby, but he’s really not. he doesn’t cry or give up in the face of ushijima or kageyama’s unfettered growth and successes, he doesn’t cry when faced with defeat. oikawa is there to support iwaizumi in his own doubt as ace, and lend support to his teammates. and oikawa doesn’t get stuck on the what-ifs or has-beens. driven by his infamous ambition, he looks forward to the future. 

it’s kind of a double-edged sword. it’s pushed him this far--he’s put in this much effort to be one of the best in the prefecture--because of his competitive spirit, but it’s also something that has caused him serious injury. oikawa’s motto (”if you’re gonna to hit it, hit it until it breaks!”) is the very epitome of this mentality. it’s a message to work hard to finish what you started, but i also think that you could interpret that hard work breaking you, too. he’s steadfast—obsessive, really—to the point that oikawa will let his passions break him before he would ever give up. it’s the point of all the strife in his life, because he would never have the problems he does if he were even a little less enamored by this sport. 

and you really have to wonder where he would be without ushijima and kageyama as his obstacles. his drive will always be there, that is an intrinsic part of him, as are the standards to which he holds himself, but you really have to wonder just how good oikawa would be if he didn’t have such direct competitors. this is an incredibly important question to ask about kageyama and oikawa in particular. yes, oikawa does loathe ushijima: for his disregard for oikawa’s decisions, for his disregard of oikawa’s loyalty, for his flippant attitude of seijoh, who oikawa has poured his blood and sweat into creating. but ushijima is an opposite hitter. oikawa is a setter. those are two very different positions with little crossover. but with kageyama--that is a clear rivalry. they push each other to be better, made all the more potent by their differences as players; one setter’s growth as a player directly impacts how the other performs in each subsequent game. seijoh’s defeat by karasuno in season 2 just feeds into oikawa’s drive for the future. he has not intention of giving up. a light was lit under him, pushing him forward, to do better, to be better. 

this is something that has been pointed out in a different analysis (linked below) but, narratively speaking, oikawa is kageyama’s foil. their interactions inform their characters and are a major cause of tension in their development. their relationship is really the most complex in the story that i have noticed, and is something that has not been appreciated enough. the iwaizumi-oikawa thing has been expounded and studied in every facet possible (i love the alexander the great/hephaestion allusions), but it’s true that kageyama has impacted oikawa the most. they begrudgingly respect each other’s talents, what it is that they bring to the court, while also envying what the other has in spades that they do not. in oikawa’s case, his strength clearly lies in his interpersonal relationships--his ability to intuit exactly what his teammates need to be at their best. kags is just a fount of overwhelming technical skill who has a really hard time getting to know those around him. living up to the standards that oikawa places on himself, in tandem with kageyama threatening his position as setter, leave oikawa floundering, fearing his own incompetence against opponents who are naturally much better than he. so he’s left with the knowledge that maybe his best isn’t good enough, but he still continues on anyway. he pushes himself past a seemingly unreachable threshold just to go toe-to-toe with this monster. it’s the purpose of his character--to tell this story of the ordinary v. the extraordinary--and it is perhaps the most relatable arc that a story like haikyuu!! can tell.

their connection naturally causes oikawa to seek out help, seen in the flashback scenes where he is talking to an unspecified coach/adult. that coach’s words then become the creed upon which oikawa plays, maybe even more than what iwaizumi has taught him, and is the final push that completes oikawa’s character arc in s2ep24. that change in mindset allows oikawa to see kageyama’s unbridled talent not as an obstacle but as a challenge. it’s very nuanced, but it makes all the difference. it’s why, following seijoh’s defeat, oikawa has the audacity to declare to kageyama and ushijima his plans for the future. in a sense, karasuno and kageyama and ushijima have won the battle but not the war. it’s the tipping point in his story and, more than anything, what makes oikawa so compelling. we have seen what has led up to the change, but now we want to know what he’s going to do to meet that challenge. what will he be doing beyond the story when he is no longer relevant to the narrative? we don’t know the details at this point, but we know that oikawa’s love and ambition for volleyball have been reaffirmed in this moment. 

but to bring it back, the kags-oiks connection also makes us question what it is we are watching, makes us as the audience think: what qualifies someone as a genius? are there any limitations to what that genius can do? what can ordinary people do in the face of those geniuses? 

these are questions that exist beyond the reality of sports and transverse into other disciplines. for me, those are very real questions that i have had to ask myself as a musician. i have dedicated nine, almost 10, years to my practice but there are still 10-year-olds who are just better at it than i ever will be. part of it is time and practice to be sure, but some of it is just innate. and i think the more appropriate version of those questions would be this: what qualifies someone as a prodigy? are there limitations for prodigies? what can we do in the face of prodigies? 

oikawa is a genius player--he knows the ins-and-outs of his sport better than anyone, and he can accomplish great feats that others in his same position can’t. but even with all that veritable experience and skill, he is ultimately still overtaken by a prodigy whose talents seem endless. it’s why he can hate ushijima but fear kageyama. one is something he can actively fight against, the other is inevitable. 

and really, i think that’s the beauty of oikawa tooru, why he’s so beloved by the fandom, even years after he has stopped being relevant to the narrative. beyond the fluff and goofiness and hijinks, there’s someone there who is really, truly, human. 

an aside with much less significance/why do people think this??

so here’s one thing: even though oikawa has fangirls, i wonder what he actually thinks of them. for one, it’s only natural for anyone to be super flattered if people think you’re hot stuff. that’s just... i don’t think he’s weird if he pays attention to them. but i think that people are conflating his being kind to them to being genuinely egotistical due to the attention. actually, i think these are opposing ideas and a contradiction of who oikawa is. when you’re an arrogant person, you think that you deserve all the attention you’re getting and you’re not going to bother with the people who worship you.

but that’s not at all what oikawa does. he’s rather kind to his fans. i would never say that he’s self-effacing, but knowing what you’re worth is different from being pompous. and think about it. it’d be a real jerk move for oikawa to not say nice things to them and thank his fangirls when they spend time, energy, and effort to make him food and see his games. he would just be a genuinely awful person if he didn’t at least give them thanks. it’d be more alarming if he didn’t talk to them, at least in my opinion. more than anything, we should consider this: why is it that oikawa has the fan club and not anyone else on the seijoh team? i’m sure a part of it is because he’s attractive and the captain of a team, but i think it’s more than that, too. we see these interactions from other perspectives, but i think that reflects more on those around oikawa than oikawa himself if they don’t understand why he acts the way he does with those girls.

another thing: i don’t think that anyone can question that oikawa is very pretty, or handsome, or whatever descriptor you would like. it’s prevalent in fandom (see: pretty setters squad), but he is also the only person in canon to be acknowledged by other characters as being particularly good-looking. maybe the miyas count at this point? i’m not sure. but i don’t really understand where people get the idea that he is particularly focused on his appearance, though. there is literally no indication of that from the material that i have seen. and maybe he uses that to his advantage with his fangirls, but i highly doubt that, in all honesty. i think that it’s fun to imagine him being into these things as a hobby, but it irks me greatly when i see that people spend time saying that oikawa wakes up extra early just to fix his hair or slather on foundation/concealer just to look presentable. 

he’s a teenaged boy who clearly has other things that worry him, he’s a full-time student, and volunteers to coach at lil tykes volleyball classroom in his free time. he wouldn’t have time to spend on his hair or makeup. and we even seen in the hanger tooru special that he even wakes up looking like that. 

he is au naturale, my friends. and we even know how little he gives thought to his own body, if you take into account his knee brace. for oikawa, his body is merely the medium through which he can accomplish his goals. we even have evidence of this when we see oikawa up all night studying karasuno game play or via his knee brace. he doesn’t know how to stop or understand when enough is enough. he breaks himself if there’s no one to watch him. 

also, just... how would makeup work, logistically speaking? i don’t wear makeup, but i’m thinking that foundation and concealer and hair product would be, um, really bad. like, it’d run down his face and stuff. also, it’d probably get into his eyes, too? seriously. i’m not against oikawa wearing makeup in the slightest cause he’d be even prettier, but we know that oikawa would absolutely not jeopardize his chances in any way. 

thank you for reading this long-winded, probably awful look into my favorite character of all time. and i do mean that. he is my favorite character in all of media. which, like, says a lot when he’s competing against the casts of a:tla, call me by your name, and my actual favorite book, the song of achilles. after all of that, if you would like another (better) analysis of oikawa’s character, i suggest this reddit thread: https://www.reddit.com/r/haikyuu/comments/94irsi/character_analysis_16_oikawa_tooru_discussion/ 

[transgamerthoughts]

What I Found In The Leaves

Last August, as the lease to my apartment was about to end, the roof began to smolder until the place I lived was full of smoke. When all was settled and done, my apartment had no roof. My room was spared and most of my things were okay—this part of the story being set in late capitalism, I am required to assure you that the things I purchased were okay too—and I decided to leave New York City to return to New England with my family. One of the first things I did when I arrived was look at the sky and imagine I was up there. Falling or sailing or flying. It didn’t really matter. I wanted to touch a cloud, to feel the whipping wind.

I promise… this is leading to something. In the months since, in spite of comfort and proximity to my family… in spite of the arrival of my nephew into this world—a child I would climb a mountain and punch God for if I needed to—and in spite of a happy job… I have spiraled into depression. My solution was work and writing. To throw myself into my job and to, somewhat foolishly, take on the task of novelizing my favorite game: Skies of Arcadia. Because if you’ve read my work long enough, it always comes back to Arcadia. I am proud of that project but it sparked a yearning in me. To truly connect to the world I was writing. It lit a fire. Before we proceed, let me be clear that by depression I don’t mean the woes of pandemic living or some disaffection with the reality of entering my 30s. I mean a deep and painful darkness with all the implications therein. Regardless to say, my efforts to combat it drained me. To the point that I burnt myself out and with some prodding from my boss, took a vacation. Which I am currently on. This is not the first time this series of events has played out. I made a promise to myself when I started vacation: no writing. I am breaking it because I have found, yet again, a moment where I must desperately drain the wonder in my heart and attempt to explain to you that I think there are magical things in the world, and that I believe there is some type of magic in art—in that strange alchemic or shamanistic way—that transfers to us. This will be my second attempt to explain it, and to explain what it has to do with video games. (Forgive the indulgence of this introduction by the way; an editor would surely have cut it all but I need you to understand two things: I am in pain and there's a part of that pain which I think points to something important.) This is a story of ritual and tea. Of how my senses and imagination came together to send me on a journey around a fictional world, in search of heroes who both do and do not exist. As part of my love for Skies of Arcadia, I’ve become something of a paraphernalia collector. I bought an old light novel from ebay, I used my rudimentary Japanese skills to set up a warehouse dropbox so that two fan magazines could be sent there and then subsequently shipped to America, and I have drank tea based off the game. At the time, I wanted to collect the little tins the tea came in; they seemed excellent collector’s items. What I found with my first round of tea was art unto itself; balances of flavor and spice and blends that symbolized characters and connected me to them. These were crafted by a dedicated fan and fellow writer. I don’t have the time to sit and research all the ways in which tea is used in ritual. Because I am tired and older and depressed and writing a blog post that perhaps thirty people will read. Regardless, to my delight I found that the tea-maker had created blends based off the various moons that dot Arcadia’s skies. For those who do not know the game, which I assume is many of you: each nation of the world rests under a magical moon. There are six, with one—a Black Moon—theorized to have gone missing. Here was my opportunity for a journey.

I bought teas based on each moon, and one based on the world itself. I will post a separate collection of all my individual tastings and reviews later. The important thing is this: I had been given an amazing gift. With these teas, I had something of that digital world which was actual. When we play games, we hear them and see them. Perhaps with certain haptics we can feel them. But we do not smell them or taste them or literally consume them. Eight teas, eight chances to smell and taste that wonderful world. To touch the clouds. Quem quaeritis? This is a famous question asked by an angel to the three Marys visiting Christ's tomb: his mother the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, and Mary, who is the sister of Lazarus—the man Christ brought back to life after his death. It means: “whom to do you seek?” I was journeying, one tea cup at a time, around Arcadia. From continent to continent, I tasted their spices and experienced hints of their values, their cultures as expressed through the tea. The question played in my mind: Quem quaeritis? Whom was I seeking? The answer is complicated. First, I was seeking something of myself. The part of me that understood magic and wonder. The part of me that believes in the soul and believes that art, in allowing the complex interaction of creators and characters with players, performs some type of soul-magic. It impresses upon us, real and actual changes. I was seeking that piece of me; that part of me that understood that each cup was a ritual that brought about a communion with a distant world. I was searching for the younger part of me that believed in wonderful things. 

I drank the teas in the order our heroes travel the world, and in doing so I was performing a sort of perseveration of their journey. I communed with some place distant and followed in their footsteps. Which answers another half of the question. Whom did I seek? I sought my heroes. I sought the adventurous Vyse and his dogged determinism, I sought the firecracker Aika and her swift rushes to action, and I sought Fina. The woman I wish I could be: feminine, slight, beautiful, kind, brave. Quem quaeritis? All of this sounds like nonsense and when I try to explain the nonsense, I feel a deep embarrassment. To care in the 21th century, particularly in America, is to be weak. To be publicly vulnerable is to make yourself a target. You must be hard and solid as a rock. You cannot believe in magic or else you are doomed. But here I was, chasing myself and my heroes one cup at a time. And I need you to know that it hurt to do that. 

I went to the corner store today to buy some energy drinks. When I got back home, my father asked: “did you find what you were looking for?” I told him “That’s a very complicated question.”

Let me explain. Let me do the thing that I feel I cannot do well anymore; let me do some game criticism. In the world of games, the entities we control exist as two things. They are actors; manipulatable bodies, guided by code and controller inputs, that we guide around as we see fit. In this way, players have extraordinary power. In some ways, it is a… fraught power. We can, as Soulja Boy did, leave Braid’s protagonist in a perpetual flux state: jumping and rewinding. Back and forth, forth and back. Eternal puppets for our amusement, avatars for our power fantasies. Sometimes, as in the case of a game like Skyrim, our controllable actors are little more than flesh suits But actors are, more than anything, just… avatars. Video game actors are also characters. Within their worlds, which are fictional, they have motivations and wants and desires and dreams. They want to live and grow and succeed. Cloud Strife wants to defeat Sephiroth and uncover the truth about himself, Joel wants to protect Ellie and survive in a cruel world. Arthur Morgan wants to find a calmer life and redemption for his sins. They are, as characters, people. But since they are also actors, we can deny them their hopes and dreams whenever we want. We can have Cloud while away his days gambling at the Gold Saucer and, if we want, we can force Arthur Morgan to murder to population of an entire town. The core truth of a player's relationship to the character is this: we decide if their dreams are fulfilled. I find that troubling and I will try to explain why. But first let’s be clear: I do not think the character in games are sentient entities. I outlined this relationship of players and characters in a GDC talk a few years ago, using highly rhetorical terms and my reward was the ridicule of countless gamers who questioned my sanity. Some made videos about my presentation. It was hell. To be a woman, perhaps especially a progressively minded trans-woman, in games is to know a very real hell. To this day, I cannot go a week without some type of horrid experience on the internet. Some judgment of my worth, some assumption about my competency, or in the worst cases some proclamation about my right to live. No doubt this is part of why I needed my vacation. But here is why I find the player/character/actor relationship troubling. It is not merely the abstract notion, the thought experiment that elicits fun but meaningless philosophical natter. The reason I find that relationship troubling or at least complicated is because for all of their fiction, the characters in games can give us real things. They can, through some type of power—a deep power found in the act of story-telling itself—impart aspects of themselves on us. For instance, they can teach us lessons which we then carry into the rest of our lives. My father, for reasons I can’t recall, once told me: “the meaning of life is to serve others.” Though he does not know it, that truism has been etched into my soul. It is a “thing” that my father has given me. But my father is not the only person who has etched something into my soul. Vyse, that dashing pirate, has etched many things into my soul. For instance: “impossible is just a word people use to make themselves feel better when they quit.” That is etched on my soul too. Just as much as anything my father has taught. So we come to the heart of it: what does it mean that Vyse can so alter my being and values, and that he can do it with the same strength and “realness” of my father? What does it mean for a character, who is also often an actor that I guide, to give me such a powerful gift? Because let us be clear: values are “real” things. When I tried to explain that I believe that certain things are actually true, for instance that looking at landscapes does mean that we are looking at something real…. I spent an afternoon with former Jeopardy! contestant Arthur Chu and a cohort of Twitteristas attacking my philosophical surety. So, again, fuck the internet… I digress.. Let’s explore: I believe in the realness of things because of the depth of the emotions those things make me feel, and I refuse to believe that life is just endorphins, hormones, and instinct. That music or games or anything else can make us weep for joy is proof-positive to me of the existence of a soul; of an ineffable thing that is “us.” Not necessarily all enduring but certainly extant. And if this thing exists, it can be acted upon. I know this because my father, with his truism, changed my soul. Changed the core of me. I know this because Vyse and the others did so as well.

I’ve written that games criticism is a kindness; that it seeks the good in art and attacks the banal explicitly because art is beautiful. I write today to suggest this: art is magical. It alters us, not metaphorically, but in the ways it can affect our souls. Which brings us back to character and actors. I control Vyse since he is an actor and I am a player; but he is a character with dreams and hopes and personality. And values. Wonderful values which he shared with me. So what does it mean now that I can send actors to their doom? What does it mean that I can control them utterly when I know for a fact that they can affect and change me? I do not have clean answers for this. Perhaps there are none. Perhaps all I have written is silliness, even as I beg you to please understand. Please. 

Understand the power of stories, understand it in the way that Tolkein did when he said: “Creative fantasy, because it is mainly trying to do something else … may open your hoard and let all the locked things fly away like cage-birds.” Understand that I am telling you that the locked thing is your heart and soul, and that just as a lover or parent or mentor can open that thing… so can the people we meet in our fictional journeys. Vyse is not just the captain of a ship. He is my captain. That means something. Art is ritual and play is ritual. In creation, we place something of ourselves in another thing. In play, we allow ourselves to be transmuted and changed. This is magic, of a sort. I am left wanting however. I followed the path of my heroes in as literal a way as I could, pulling on new senses to understand the world they live in and touch their skies for a fleeting moment. But I cannot reach them; I am Tantalus in the mire. Ever reaching, ever chasing. For that moment I can be the person that my heroes trusted me to become. Note by musical note, word for written word, tea cup by tea cup, I am chasing my captain. When I went back to my apartment the day after the fire, I looked up at the spot where the roof used to be. All I could see was blue sky and I thought I might fall into it. Perhaps in superficial ways I have shared something with my heroes; I have tasted something they have, even though the tea is not actually from Arcadia. It was merely a conduit to my imagination, to the transformed parts of my souls. Yet, I did not find him and I could not find myself. Which is why it hurts, in spite of how wonderful it was. Quem quaeritis? He is not here. So I will keep sailing after him.

[clairecrive]

“Unsaid” - Bane x reader (Part 3)

As promised here is part 3! I really hope you enjoy it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. We need more Bane content and I already miss writing him. But requests are, as always, open and I wouldn’t mind if you’d hit him with another Bane requests. Just saying lol.

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog​, @br0ck-eddie​, @evelynshelby​, @deaflikehawkeye​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @fandom--0verdose​ ( let me know if you wanna be added)

From that moment, despite your best intentions, nothing changed. Bane was still M.I.A. and the only "interactions" you had were with the guys that brought you food. And by interactions you mean the looks that they sent you whenever you would tell them that you didn't want to eat. So maybe one thing did change, now you had a plan: hunger strike.

It had been only a couple of days but you had been sending back every food tray they brought. It wasn't about trying to get Bane attention or to get him to come back. What he was doing was apparently so important that he couldn't be bothered about anything else. You imagined that his men had notified him about you and your no eating situation and there still had been no sign of him. Sending away the little peng in your heart at the realisation that this meant that you weren't important enough, you tried to see the cup half full: this way it will be easier to carry out your plan. 

He's your captor, y/n, get a grip on yourself he just took you for fun. You often tell to yourself when you'd feel yourself missing him or worrying for him.

Your plan was based around the assumption that if you were ill, they have to take you to the hospital, right? Well, they had to otherwise you're screwed. You knew that without food the human body can survive a lot of time but you hoped that without water the process would be quickened. This felt all so crazy to you but you knew that there was no other way that they would let you leave this place.

It was the third day of the hunger strike, there was still no sign of Bane, which was good, and you could feel the energy leave your body as you sit on the bed. Although this was exactly what you had planned to happen, you couldn't help but feel a little scared when you lost grip of the book you were holding and when black spots filled your vision, as though you were looking through a Snapchat filter. If the tump noise made by the heavy book when it hit the floor wasn't enough to catch their attention, you tried to call for help but, scaringly enough, you found that you couldn't. Your legs gave up when you tried to get off the bed and the sound you made was enough to get the attention of the men guarding the door. You heard the door open but after that, you weren't able to feel anything as everything turned black.

***

When you came around, the first thing you felt was the dryness of your throat. Then the needle in your arm and the throbbing feeling in your right wrist. You tried to open your eyes but with the bright white light of the room, you found that even if you opened them, you couldn't see. Fortunately, you just needed a little time to adjust. Your eyes moved to your wrist and you noticed that it was wrapped in white bandages. You must have dislocated it or something when you fell from the bed, you guessed. It appeared that was the only damage you had, well dehydration and malnutrition aside. 

After you finished a little check-up of your body, you looked around the room. It looked like your plan worked, recognizing the walls of a hospital room. Then another thing hit you, or well, your eyes. There was someone shouting. You didn't know if their voices were loud or if they were near your room but it was a woman's voice. She was arguing with someone about another woman and how she was taking the attention away from the plan. Hearing no one answering her, you thought that she was talking at the phone and your attention shifted away from her. Closing your eyes, you found them to be tired already for all the lights. Ad if it wasn't enough you could also feel a headache growing because of the woman's yelling.

Just as you were drifting to sleep, the door of your room opened and so did your eyes. There he was, in all his glory, standing on the threshold with his back to you. You heard him saying something along the lines of: "now is not the time to argue Talia. we'll talk later" and then he turned around and walked into the room closing the door behind him. He didn't notice you were awake, he sat on the chair at the side of your bed and rested his head on your hand. Staying still, you acted as if you were still sleeping, opting for studying him instead. 

Your head was a mess, your feelings and thoughts all over the place leaving you unsure about what to feel. A part of you was relieved and you dare say, happy that he was here at your side. The other part though reminded you that this man was your captor and that no matter how kind he had been to you, he still had left you alone for weeks and had been a mean asshole about it. the logical thing to feel would be anger, and wishing that he would just leave you alone. Turns out it wasn't that simple. Maybe you had Stockholm Syndrome, that's why it was all so hard. Yes, that must be it. It would explain a lot of things.

"So it was all for a woman, eh?" You speak up catching his attention and putting an end to your thoughts. Your voice came up raspy and barely above a whisper but it did the job. Bane looked up at you and for the first time in weeks, your eyes met. His eyes had always been a way to understand what he wasn't saying. Now, they looked clouded and troubled. You must have not been a pretty sight but you hoped it wasn't that that troubled him. Something happened that made him conflicted. Who was that woman? Is she the reason why he had disappeared all of a sudden? She must be. Maybe she was also the one that gave him so much trouble. But why was he here then? Why not trying to work things out with her?

"It's always for love." You continue when he doesn't speak. He just sits there and stares at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

"A little too sappy, even for you." Those were the first words he had said to you after your last conversation. It certainly was better but not nearly enough.

"Is she the reason why you're doing all this?" You then asked with a pointed look, already knowing the answer but asking it anyway to prove your point.

"Vengeance is why I'm doing all this. We have a plan." Poor Bane, he was more delusional than you thought.

"She has a plan, I'm sure. You're just tagging along and I've never thought you would submit to someone."

"You're talking about something you know nothing of."

"You're right. I don't know what you're doing and I don't pretend to understand your motives. But I've heard your men talking about your plan and let me tell you, that it was enough for me to know that you're putting yourself in the front line for someone who wouldn't do the same for you."

"You got yourself almost killed to escape and now you're worrying about me? You should make up your mind."

"I wasn't trying to escape you, you weren't even there. I was trying to get out of the cage you had put me in. Never said I'd like you to die."

"No but to have my ass kicked."

"That's because you were mean to me for no reason. I hate rude people. It costs nothing to be kind."

"I'm sorry about that." He apologised after a while. 

There was still a lot you had to talk about, so many things left unsaid, that you could only nod in appreciation. Who would have thought that a mass murder could be capable of apologising? To a hostage nonetheless. Still recovering, you felt weak and after a while, you fell asleep again, your hand holding Bane's. 

The next time you came around, it wasn't your throat to wake you. The culprit had been the loud deafening sound of a helicopter. Looking around, you found yourself indeed on a helicopter, with an I.V. still in your arm but this time you weren't laying in a bed. You were in the backseats, protected by the seatbelt, your head laying on someone's shoulder. When you lifted your head to look around, the person sitting next to you held your hand to reassure you. Looking up, you weren't surprised to see that it was Bane, his grip now familiar to you and his eyes reassuring you that everything would be fine.

[possiblyimbiassed]

What happened to Sherlock? Part VIII - The Sign of the Hetero Norm (1)

Why does Mary Morstan play such a prominent role in BBC Sherlock? 

I’m surely not the only one asking myself this; while she’s barely mentioned in canon after marrying Watson, she’s all over the place from TEH and onwards in Mofftiss’ adaptation. And when I recently read this excellent fic by @discordantwords, a couple of things dawned on me, that I think have been brewing in my mind for quite some time. Which brings me to the long promised continuation of my marathon meta series about what I think we’re actually seeing in this show. Because the entire point of Mary Morstan seems to be to prevent Sherlock and John from getting together in a romantic relationship - a story of hetero norm. This eighth installment will explore the ‘case’ of little Rosie, and the role she and her mother plays in this show. 

This far I’ve published an intro and seven installments, each with corresponding attempts to test my hypotheses:

Introduction - The game is on (explains the method of analysis) Part I - Blog vs TV-show Part II - Re-living memories Part III - Drugs and weirdness Part IV – Heartbreak and coma (1) Part IV – Heartbreak and coma (2) Part V – Bizarre scenarios Part VI - Live and let die (1) Part VI - Live and let die (2)

Part VII - The Importance of Being Earnest (1) 

Part VII - The Importance of Being Earnest (2)

This installment will also be parted in two, and the second half can be found here (X). Many of the screen caps from BBC Sherlock in this meta are from Kissthemgoodbye.net - thanks! And thanks also to Ariane DeVere for the incredibly useful transcripts!

My next hypotheses is, in and off itself, a clear and straightforward prediction that can be explicitly verified or falsified once we finally get to S5, so it will be extra fun to see what happens with it in future: 

Hypothesis #8: John is not the father of Mary’s baby

(Disclaimer: My suspicion here only concerns John’s biological offspring. It would still be possible that John, and perhaps also Sherlock, might father the child - if it exists - by adoption. It does not exclude a metaphorical reading where the baby represents, for example, Sherlock’s and John’s relationship. I also want to stress that this hypothesis is an attempt at logical reasoning based on observations in the show and in ACD canon; it’s not meant to be ‘gossipy’ and has nothing to do with whether I would actually like to see this happen or not - that’s a whole other story. ;) )  

This hypothesis has been brewing in my mind for quite some time now, but I don’t think it’s just a hunch; there are actually a series of reasons that have made me come to this conclusion. 

(Continued under the cut)

But first of all: can we debunk my hypothesis at this stage in the story, by testing it ‘scientifically’? Well, not really, since the show doesn’t provide any reliable evidence that confirms John as Rosie’s biological father. Not even IRL would this have been possible without a DNA-test (or without physical circumstances that would have made any other option impossible). And the only thing that the show tells us about human DNA-tests is that not even this procedure is 100% reliable, as shown in ASIB:

JOHN: You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you. IRENE: DNA-tests are only as good as the records you keep. JOHN: And I bet you know the record-keeper. IRENE: I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear.

DNA is brought up in TGG (Ian Monkford’s blood) and again in TST (the identification of Charlie Wellsborough’s body), but since John’s fatherhood is never questioned in the show, little Rosie is never tested, as far as we know. The remaining evidence that speaks for John being the father is circumstantial: that John and Mary obviously must have been living together at the approximate time of conception. And that they both act as if they’re both Rosie’s parents.

So I guess that in order to get any further with this, I’ll have to start at the other end, analysing the characters and see if I can find evidence that support my hypothesis - on a textual level as well as metaphorically and on the meta level. 

Mary’s function in the story

I think we can safely say that Mary is the most controversial character of BBC Sherlock. Some viewers love her, others hate her, but I can’t recall anyone claiming to feel indifferent towards her. Mofftiss have indeed managed to push forward a character who is hardly even visible in canon, once she’s married to Watson. In BBC Sherlock, however, Mary totally dominates the show from HLV and onwards. Her appearances may have been increasing in numbers and length already from her introduction in TEH. But from the point where John wakes up in HLV, there isn’t a single case where she’s not somehow involved. Up until TFP, everything is about ’Mary’. And even then, once we might have believed we’d got rid of the ghost of this hijacking protagonist, she comes back, only to once again take over the narrative with a weird and basically inexplicable voiceover. She seems like some kind of obsession; a brain ghost stuck on someone’s mind.

This is rather different from ACD canon, where Mary Morstan has extremely few lines as soon as she’s no longer a client, but Watson’s wife. Personally I find it hard to see the lovable aspect of this character in BBC Sherlock, since she constantly shifts appearance, behaviour and motivation; it’s almost impossible to pin down who she actually is. Which makes me convinced that Mary is not meant to be a real, believable character that we can relate to as such - at least not all the time. And maybe that goes for canon as well.

But what then is the purpose of her, what’s Mary’s actual function in the narrative, looking at the subtext? I think there’s basically three of them, and by no means mutually exclusive:

1. Mary is a metaphor for heteronormativity and its power over people when they internalise it

2. Mary is a façade or ‘beard’, where a straight marriage is established to cover up a story of a gay relationship

3. Mary is a mirror for Sherlock; by substituting himself with a female spouse for John, Sherlock can be with John ‘by proxy’, trying to figure out John without having to face his own real problem: reveal his emotions and risk failure.

As soon as Mary firmly puts her foot in the show, it all becomes a spectacle, a demonstration of how to keep up a straight facade at any cost. After TSoT, no-one ever assumes John and Sherlock are a romantic couple; Mary is the ultimate ’proof’ that John is indeed straight. Which is of course illogical, because why would a bi person stop being it because they married someone, no matter of which sex? Mary admits it herself by telling Sherlock that ”neither of us was the first, you know”. And Sherlock complains that John is dancing around Sholto ”like a puppet” even after the wedding ceremony. But in all the episodes after TSoT, John is happily freed from people’s assumptions regarding his sexual orientation. Gone are all the gay jokes, and John Watson is miraculously ‘cured’. 

I think this is perfectly illustrated in the fic by @discordantwords​ that I mentioned above. The plot follows logically on TFP, as things would be if everything we’ve seen from HLV and onwards is actually meant to be ‘true’. Mary is now dead and John lives alone with little Rosie. For a case, in order to get close to the suspects, Sherlock is planning to fake his own wedding with Janine Hawkins, and John is feeling jealous and excluded – especially when he finds out that one of the murders that Sherlock is investigating had involved a wedding of a gay couple:

"Why all of this, then?" he asked. He tipped his head towards the kitchen, where Janine was fiddling with the kettle. "I could have just—wouldn't it have been easier for us to just—?"

"You're not gay," Sherlock said.

"Well," John paused. "No." He cleared his throat, looked back at the wall. "But everyone already thinks we're a couple. Wouldn't be that much of a stretch, really. For a case."

"No one has thought that for quite some time."

This fanfic rings perfectly true to me, considering S4 on the surface level; John and Sherlock appearing as a couple wouldn’t work after John’s own wedding in TSoT. Because gone is now every allusion to John being anything else than straight. Gone is also John’s admiration for Sherlock; from HLV and on, he hardly ever even speaks about Sherlock in a positive way. (Which also makes me wonder: was ‘The Fall’ also about Sherlock feeling he had fallen from John’s pedestal of admiration?). For the rest of the show, it’s only Sherlock whom we see suffering from (presumably) gay pining. It’s only in Sherlock’s Victorian imagination that Moriarty tells them to ’elope’ together, while John in TLD is shown to be exclusively fixed on his dead wife. 

On the surface, Sherlock seems to support John’s relationship with Mary, while I’m sure he is actually suffering deeply. But I think, metaphorically, that Sherlock is acting like some kind of self-sacrificing Christ figure. (Don’t forget Irene’s words from ASiB: “I think you’re damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it’s yourself”). He bears the ‘cross’ of torture by seeing John with someone else, until he can’t stand it any more and trashes himself on drugs. This is what we see at the beginning of TEH, John holding hands with a woman in front of Sherlock’s grave:

Why can’t we see Mary’s face already here? I think it’s because this is from Sherlock’s POV; he’s either seeing or imagining them from behind. She might have a hidden face but a familiar shape because by the time Sherlock is recalling this, he already knows what Mary looks like. But at this point in time, maybe he didn’t? In any case, it must be devastating for Sherlock to see or imagine John with someone else, when he should be there to mourn him, Sherlock. 

Thinking about John with Mary, Sherlock can’t even sleep. He is tortured on a cross and dies for all our ’sins’, doesn’t he? On the meta level Sherlock Holmes sacrifices his life, he extinguishes his true self, in the name of heteronormativity. So that John can have his straight marriage, even if it’s dysfunctional. But our worst ’sin’ as an audience, I believe - our ultimate mistake - is to buy into this narrative without questioning it. That’s literally letting the hetero norm rule.

King David the Adulterer

Mary’s ex-boyfriend David is introduced in TSoT, but after this episode he never shows up again. But this seems very random to me; why is David even there, and why is he depicted as some kind of rival to John? What is his narrative purpose? David is often blurred out in the scenes, but he is definitely present during the whole wedding reception, where his role is to be an usher (showing people their places/seats). David gives the impression to be single, since he attends Mary’s wedding without any partner as company.

Sherlock, who meets David alone at 221B during the wedding planning, deduces that he still seems to have an intimate relationship with Mary. Only recently I discovered this meta from 2014 called The Baby Problem by @abitnotgood​, which brings up pretty much exactly the same suspicions I have had for quite some time now. The main points are the following:

Mary was dating David for 2 of the totally 5 years she had been undercover with the false name Mary.

They’re still close enough friends for David to attend the wedding, which might indicate their breakup was unwanted from one or both parts.

Mary’s reactions during the wedding reception indicates that she still cares for David.

Sherlock finds out that David has “offered to be her shoulder to cry on no less than three occasions.” 

David sits at the same table as most other major characters, which indicates that he’s important.

David doesn’t look particularly happy while toasting for the bride and groom.

To these I could also add that Sherlock gets so suspicious about David that he threatens him with keeping a close eye on his whereabouts with Mary. From a story telling POV, when a character is suspected by the main character who is a genius detective, there should actually be some reason for this - shouldn’t it?

So who is David? Does he appear anywhere in canon? I actually think he does. In ACD’s short story The Crooked Man (CROO), the name David plays a symbolical role. The story is about a (supposed) murder of a middle-aged military officer, colonel James Barclay. It’s a classical Sherlock Holmes mystery with a door locked from the inside and the key missing. The death seems to originate from a domestic quarrel between the colonel and his wife. (Which is particularly interesting considering the Watsons’ ‘domestic’ in HLV). 

Turns out the colonel died of fright when he saw his old rival Henry Wood, whom he had betrayed in the war and deliberately left to be captured by the enemy. Henry was repeatedly tortured and crippled and held prisoner for many years, until he could escape back to London and a coincidence brought his old love interest in his way, who was now married to the colonel. (Hmm... tortured by the enemy. Been away. Love interest married. Does this seem like anyone we know? ;) ). Henry was “the crooked man” of the story, who was bereft of his loved one because of James. 

But the name David was mystically uttered by Colonel Barclay’s wife while quarreling with her husband - why? Holmes claimed it was a biblical reference to the drama of king David, Batsheba and Uriah. King David committed adultery with the beautiful Bathsheba, who was married to his soldier Uriah. Bathsheba got pregnant after sleeping with David, while Uriah was out fighting a war. David tried to cover up that fact by sending Uriah home, but Uriah refused to leave his comrades. Then David betrayed his rival Uriah the same way James betrayed Henry: by deliberately leaving him exposed to the enemy. The only difference was that Uriah died on the battlefield, while Henry was caught and crippled. Which leads us almost inevitably to Captain John Watson - he is a soldier who was crippled by the enemy too, wasn’t he? ;)

What about Rosie?

Although Mary is dominating the show from TEH and forwards, John’s and Mary’s daughter - little Rosie - is subjected to the opposite treatment; she has very little screen time, and we never learn about a single character trait of hers. In ACD canon the Watsons never had a child, as far as I know. And – even in Victorian times – I believe it would have seemed strange with the Doctor spending so much of his free time (besides work) together with Holmes, obviously neglecting his family duties. So since Mofftiss have introduced a totally new ingredient to their adaptation - a time-consuming baby - one would think this has to have a clear purpose, right? I would have expected Rosie to play a part of her own, someone the audience could relate to just like the other characters, if only still a baby. 

But instead, Rosie is seen most of all as an obstacle. Mary is balancing her while discussing a case with Sherlock. Rosie is handed over to John like a sack of potatoes when the family goes on to solve a case with Sherlock; she doesn’t make a sound and we don’t even see her little face. We see John change Rosie’s diaper once (basically to show that he has a toy daisy behind his ear, which is apparently a good flirting device), and then we see Sherlock trying to babysit her at 221B, getting hit in the eye by her toy. We also hear her cry in the background once, and see Molly hold her once. And that’s about it. 

When Sherlock texts them from the London Aquarium at the end of TST, Mary and John debate which of them is going to have to stay with the baby, but finally both of them show up at the Aquarium – without Rosie. And this happens not long after Mary has taken a ‘little trip’ around Eurasia ending up in Morocco and John and Sherlock going after her – little Rosie staying at home. Which means weeks without any of her parents. If S4 were real, I’d feel truly sorry for little Rosie.

In TLD, Rosie is more absent than her dead mother! While Mary haunts the episode, all we hear about the baby is John’s tremendous guilt for neglecting and abandoning her (which he manages to do completely). John does seem to have enough spare time and energy to go on another case with Sherlock, though, in the middle of his therapy session. At the end of TLD, all is supposedly fine again with Rosie (until John gets shot with a tranquiliser), but we never get to see it. But then in TFP John goes on a long journey with Sherlock to a far away island, and not a word about Rosie. She’s not even present when John receives Mary’s DVD at home. At the end she’s suddenly there again, though, without any comment. 

Based on this, it doesn’t seem farfetched to ask if this little character is even supposed to be real. There’s a subtle hint in TLD which could point in this skeptic direction: 

Sherlock: “And, of course, I hadn’t really anticipated that I’d hallucinated meeting his daughter.” “Still a bit troubled by the daughter. Did seem very real, and she gave me information I couldn’t have acquired elsewhere.” 

John: “But she wasn’t ever here?”

An earlier quote from TGG could also question John’s fatherhood: ”Of course he’s not the boy’s father - look at the turnups on his jeans!” (Sherlock while watching telly with John in TGG, right after the fourth ‘pip’).

And - of course - if S4 is all imaginary, only happening in Sherlock’s head, Rosie would probably not even have been born yet. 

There are also some more subtle hints about Rosie’s narrative function: John’s guilt about cheating on Mary in TLD is connected to the baby. John specifically mentions that he was “cheating” on Mary while she was taking care of Rosie: JOHN (to Ghost!Mary): “We texted constantly. You wanna know when? Every time you left the room, that’s when.  When you were feeding our daughter; when you were stopping her from crying – that’s when.” This does make the (otherwise rather exaggerated) texting affair sound a bit more damning for John, doesn’t it? ;)  If this is all taking place inside Sherlock’s head, it might rather reflect one of Sherlock’s (possibly) major excuses to himself for not confessing his true feelings to John; it might (once the baby is born) disrupt a whole family and affect an innocent little child.

John and Mary’s relationship

The other day I took to re-watch this little piece of extra material from S4: statements by Martin Freeman and Amanda Abbington about John’s and Mary’s relationship (X). Every time I see this video I’m just laughing so hard. Please don’t miss how Martin is struggling to keep a straight face without smiling, after claiming “they’ve been through stuff already in S3 that would test any couple.” (Yep. Like the discovery that Mary is actually a contract killer who shot his best friend and hasn’t even revealed her real name to John). Or how Amanda avoids looking at the camera when she’s lying talking about Mary’s feelings towards John, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Great acting! :)

I mean, this cannot even be intended to fool anyone; I think this is meant to signal to the audience that the marriage we’re seeing is a dishonest, superficial construction made up of empty words. It’s very similar to the scene in HLV where Sherlock tells John about his ‘relationship’ with Janine. Platitudes like “we’re in a good place” are not only included, but also called out in the very same dialogue. John: “You got that from a book!”  Sherlock: “Everyone got that from a book!”. In the video clip, overly sweet violin music is playing when Martin and Amanda talk about their characters’ supposed deep love for each other, but this is mixed up with sitcom-like scenes where this love is made very hard to believe in, like Mary about to give birth in the car and roaring to her husband to pull over, or John telling Mary that he simply intends to forget about a recent past where she very nearly murdered his best friend.  

John’s marriage actually seems terrible from start; he can’t even keep himself off Sherlock’s blog comments during his own honeymoon. Which I believe is canon consistent; in ACD’s stories Mary Morstan even encourages Watson to never leave Holmes’ side. And the bad marriage is also confirmed in HLV by Wiggins’ and Sherlock’s deductions about John’s cycling to work and keeping his shirts ‘folded and ready to leave’ at any moment.

But what’s Mary’s position in this? Let’s say, as a mental experiment, that she knows from start about John’s feelings for Sherlock. Why would she want to be together with, and even go on to marry, a man who is obviously in love with someone else? Well, while I don’t buy the facade-climbing Ninja!Mary who tries to kill Sherlock in HLV, she could still be dishonest in her approach to John. She could still be on some sort of mission related to Sherlock, where her role simply is to get in between John and Sherlock, while she actually is together with someone else (and even carrying that someone’s child). Her aim could be to hurt Sherlock as much as possible, for a specific reason. 

As far as I see in TEH, Mary seems suspiciously eager to befriend Sherlock. Instead of behaving like one would expect from someone in love who just got their special moment ruined by a rival; with anger or at least annoyance, and of course supporting the beloved - Mary immediately sides with Sherlock.

And she seems to side with him most of all on an intellectual level, taking part in his explanations of how he managed to fake his death.

“Oh, he would have needed a confidant...”

So - what can we deduce about Mary?

If everything we see in the show after TSoT only has happened inside Sherlock’s head (as I’ve tried to make a case for in this meta series), from this follows logically that in Sherlock’s ‘reality’, there is no Assasin!Mary, no SecretAgent!Mary, no Martyr!Mary and - of course - no Ghost!Mary. Because up until the wedding, Mary seemed to be just an ordinary woman. The character’s appearance from HLV and onwards would all be fabrications of Sherlock’s drug-influenced mind, albeit loaded with a lot of metaphorical meaning from his subconscious. 

But Mary still seems to exist on some level, doesn’t she? She is referred to by John on his blog, talked about by other people on the blog (including Sherlock), and she even makes comments on it on no less than ten occasions. On the blog, John is clear about getting married to Mary. And after Sherlock’s final blog post ‘The Sign of Three’, it also gets obvious that Mary is now pregnant. 

And – most importantly – if S4 is all-fake, this also means that in Sherlock’s ‘reality’, Mary’s drama-loaded death in TST never happened. Mary is still alive! So if Mary is a ‘façade’, a ‘beard’ and/or a mirror for Sherlock on a meta- and sub-textual level, who is she on the textual level? Well, I think there are some clues in the show, and also a lot of subtext material in ACD canon to draw from, which might have been developed into actual story line in the show.  

And this will bring us to the second half of this meta, which you can find here (X).

Tagging some people who might be interested: @raggedyblue​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @sarahthecoat​ @gosherlocked​ @loveismyrevolution​ @sagestreet​​ @tjlcisthenewsexy​​ @elldotsee​​ @88thparallel​​ @devoursjohnlock​​ @sherlock-overflow-error​​ @yeah-oh-shit​

[dariamalek]

Musical Mediation: “Sign of the Times”

Hello friends! I am trying a new series on this blog called “Musical Mediation,” where I intervene with different songs in order to resolve a final theme of the song; essentially I will unpack these songs based on their lyrics, background, style and elements in order to tell you what they are truly about. 

On my Instagram, I had put a poll for which song I should do for my first post between Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box” and Harry Styles’ “Sign of the Times.” Of course, as I predicted, the Harries had took over and SOTT had come in with over 90 percent. 

If you follow my Instagram, you would also know that I have been following Harry Styles quite closely the past year. I can confidently say that his success, as well as the societally challenging Vogue cover, have truly made him one of the most powerful musicians in the world. 

Sign of the Times is Style’s first solo song released upon his seperation from One Direction. I didn’t follow One Direction but, if their music was anything like this song, I understand the hype. The ballad was rumoured to be about a mother who is told, upon giving birth, that her child is fine however she was not going to make it. This was later confirmed by Harry himself in an interview with NME, in which he was quoted saying: “go forth and conquer.” 

Though this may initially be dark and sad, and you wonder why such a bright young man would write such a deeply saddening song, it actually is a brilliantly written song about “fundamentals.” 

Of course, you know the drill: here on this blog, we are all English majors. Thus, we all need a reason to think there is more to this text and lucky for us, there actually is. 

If we go into this reading with the understanding that this is about a mother who is giving up her life for her child, we will read the lyrics much differently however, I wanted to introduce a new theory that perhaps Harry himself may be intrigued to hear. 

“Sign of the Times” is a saying which refers to popular culture; it is a sign that differentiates a certain time period based on what is popular or important during that time frame. Some people see this as a way of knowing what was in fashion during that time, however us English majors are going to take it one step further. Perhaps this is a way of differentiating the values of society; understanding that the pop culture of the time defines a certain amount of the values of that society. Reading this in the case of the mother and her child, we can see that the mother values her child’s life more than her own because she believes her child can achieve greatness while she has lived a certain amount of her life; she believes that the value of life is so thick that she is rather content with giving up hers to let her child experience it. 

With that being said, we move into the most iconic lyric of the song, as well as my favourite one: “you can’t bribe the door on the way to the sky.” 

This one line speaks volumes about our current society. What Harry is suggesting is that getting into heaven, which is what society has told us is the end goal of our lives, can not be bribed into. In order to achieve goodness beyond the grave, we must do good while we are alive. Our society has become so fascinated by materialism and wealth that they had forgotten what it means to be a good person. They are so concerned with the societal norms of beauty that they would rather focus on the way they look than compliment someone who doesn’t fit the set norms of society; not to mention that bullying is still very much alive. 

Though our society is much more empathetic than our past generations, it’s the artificial values that have tainted the way we think as an easily influenced society. 

“Just stop your crying, it’s the sign of the times” is speaking to the individuals who feel excluded from these norms of society. If we read this in terms of the mother and her child, it simply refers to the fact that she shouldn’t be so sad, this is what is important: the life of her child and the fact that her child will go on to life a full life. 

If we put these two assumptions together, we get this: rather than crying about not being within the current norms of society, we should smile about the true values of what life hold. The simple fact that we are alive on this planet is a gift. 

Another one of my favourite lines in terms of our new theory is “I hope you’re wearing your best clothes.” I love this because I personally believe it’s a satirical knick on the actual values of our artificial society: our appearances. Everyone wants the nicest clothes, the nicest shoes, the nicest bodies; we forget what is underneath them. Perhaps he’s also critiquing the fact that people are so vigilant about the things we wear; our society has learnt to judge based on appearances which is why we must wear the nicest clothes. To further this, in the beginning of the song he says: “you look pretty good up here, but you ain’t really good.” This is referring to the fact that no matter how gorgeous you look to other people, you are the only person who is self aware of the depression that comes with hiding your true face with a guard of materialism. What are you afraid of?

The chorus further develops to finish with: “why are we always stuck here running from the bullets?” In order to understand this, we must understand what Harry potentially means by “bullets.” If we continue with our theory of values, perhaps “bullets” are a metaphor for our true selves? If we think about it, bullets come really fast. There’s no dodging a bullet...unless you’re Samuel L Jackson or Arnold Schwarzenegger. But in the case in which we are neither of those men, bullets will always catch up to you. 

If these bullets are a metaphor for our true selves, perhaps Harry is asking why we mask ourselves as these false personas; hiding under these materialistic things, and are always running away from the truth. “Just stop your crying have the time of your life” could be the solution for this problem; just live your life to the fullest, understand the true value of your life because according to Harry, it’s not the car you drive or the gold on your neck. And damn, he’s right. 

As if Harry Styles wasn’t done giving us a revolutionary societal critique in music form, he continues to say: “we don’t talk enough, we should open up, before it’s all too much.” The wisdom is undeniable at this point. He is directly telling us that we should open up our true selves to this society before it’s “too much” and we are wallowing in the deep rooted sorrow of these false personas based on the developed norms within society. Eventually, we will be screaming “we got to get away” like he does in the final phrases of this song. Eventually, the constant over-materialism will be too much and we will need to get away from this society because we will never be satisfied with ourselves if we don’t have these materialistic things. We lose all sense of identity; in order to understand the true value of life, we must give up these artificial values of our society. However, if we do that, we will be excluded from our society but that last line of the song is referring to the fact that we will want to be excluded; a musical rendition of “I hate it here!” 

We shouldn’t want to “get away from here.” How could we as people build a society that is so artificial when we are fighting for the things that are truly of value in the world: human rights, gender and race equality, etc. How could we ever achieve these things that are of true value to society if we are so worried about which part of town is most dangerous, who has more money, who wears counterfeit things, who has the highest education? Why must we judge eachother on these artificial things that don’t mean anything when we could be putting that energy towards solving LGBTQ hate crime or helping neighbourhoods with poverty so that they, just like us, can value their lives and feel safe within their real selves? 

Yes friends, we got all that from a song. This is the power of music and Harry Styles nailed it! This is the real definition of #TREATPEOPLEWITHKINDNESS. 

I had a lot of fun unpacking this. It was a blast and this song is a truly influential piece, especially in 2020. Tell me what songs I should do next in the comments! 

Be kind, look out for the details and stay safe!

[yellingmetatron]

I Just Need to Get This Out (Political Content Warning)

Now more than ever, I am going to be avoiding politics on Tumblr.  This is, with any luck, the last political post I will make on my blogs.  It is meant to serve as an explanation of why I’m going to be a lot less tolerant of political content on roleplaying blogs.  TL;DR, I don’t fit in on the right or left and I’m fucking tired of seeing politics everywhere.  I deal with it at work, and I deal with it at home.  I don’t want to deal with it here.  I’m going to start unfollowing people when I see it.  That doesn’t mean our friendship is over, it doesn’t mean we can’t RP.  But I’m so tired of it all. If you want the long explanation, keep reading.

From about middleschool to shortly before the election of the current president I considered myself an ardent conservative.  Listing out a lot of my positions, this might have seemed not to be the case: I’m not religious (try as I might to be so).  I’m pro-LGTBQ+.  I’ve always been a proud member of what Rush Limbaugh used to call the Wetland Gestapo. I think anthropogenic climate change is a real thing.  I want pot legalized.  I think military interventionism is a mistake in all but the rarest situations (granted this is a more recent position).  I think the welfare state is necessary and in places ought to be expanded.  I am enthusiastic about multiculturalism. On the other hand, I am pro-religion despite not being religious, and feel religious conservatives shouldn’t be compelled to violate their own religious beliefs as long as it’s not hurting anyone (and my definition of ‘not hurting anyone’ seems to be a bit broader than most progressives).  While I’m not anti-union, I think that unions can be corrupt as any other institution, particularly at a national level, and that the Left is too inclined to overlook that.  I’m solidly pro Second Amendment.  I consider illegal immigration a bad thing (mostly because it’s an excuse to exploit the poor and undocumented).  I think “states’ rights” is not just a dogwhistle term for racists, but something that really does need to be taken into account given the way the American republic works. I could have expanded the above to paragraphs, but they’re already ungainly and, I’m sure, a pain to read through.  Where am I going with all this?  Well, first I wanted to establish that I COULD consider myself “an ardent conservative” while holding a lot of varied opinions (like literally everyone on the planet has).  Secondly, I want to establish that I hold all of the above views, and have for some time, while bearing a specific label—right winger.  I’ve ended up rejecting that label, and rejecting what for want of a better term I’ll call “the conservative movement”, but my positions haven’t changed.  And, most importantly, stopping thinking of myself as a conservative DOES NOT mean I’ve come to think of myself as a progressive. Let me try to tell a story. I’m decent at stories. Metamun in middle school and high school was a lonely creature.  He was sick a lot, and pretty socially awkward, although he could make up for it by being funny and knowing some trivia.  But he mostly kept to himself.  Since being on the bus made him sick (it was at a time of life when people experimented with scents that screwed him up at close quarters) usually his dad picked him up after school.  That’s where Metamun picked up his politics, those drives home with dad.  Dad listened to a lot of Rush Limbaugh, and so Metamun did too.  Metamun was already sort of inclined to conservatism—he had a pessimistic view of the world, distrusting the US government and feeling that people ought to be able to protect themselves (i.e. own guns).  Rush did not convert Metamun, but he did affirm Metamun.  He didn’t usually say anything that seemed greatly outrageous to Metamun. (Mark that “usually”.) Now, as Metamun was living in suburban New England, it happened that conservative politics did not go unchallenged as they might have, say, farther south.  To Metamun it seemed as though he was in a tiny minority, especially where authority figures were concerned.  Looking back he’d realize this wasn’t the case— particularly not in terms of his actual views.  But remember, Metamun didn’t get out much.  And furthermore, although he considered himself conservative, he found he usually didn’t like the company of conservatives— they tended to be less interested in the things he was, like books and acting.  So most of his friends and acquaintances tended to be, if not self-identified progressives, at least the kind of people who sneered at conservatives and made the obligatory comparisons of Bush II to Hitler. Because that was who Metamun dealt with day-to-day, he was left with the impression that this was the norm for the society he lived in.  Most of what was on TV, with the exceptions of Fox News and South Park, seemed to confirm this. And so Metamun became genuinely terrified of people learning that he was not like the majority. Being homebound so often, Metamun spent a lot of time online.  That did nothing to lessen his terror.  Lonely as he was, Metamun went looking for conservative blogs.  Pajamas Media was the big one, but there were plenty of smaller ones.  One important thing he learned was that post 9/11, there were a lot of people who sort of fit his description—socially liberal, but mistrustful of leftist politics for various reasons.  Ex-leftists. Neo-Cons.

One important factor was patriotism: It seemed like all progressives genuinely hated the United States on principal.  Unflattering and quite often spurious comparisons to other countries seemed to abound on the Left.  One of Metamun’s new acquaintances explicitly wrote on their blog that they’d always wondered how the Right “co-opted” patriotism before concluding the Left simply threw it away. This acquaintance, a gay Seattleite, would be a touchstone for Metamun’s sense of political self for some time.  During the Tea Party era, the Right genuinely felt more fun and open than the Left.  Metamun still felt like an underdog, but also like he was part of a ragtag resistance movement with real emotional bonds.  And yet, even with all that, his prime political emotion was fear. (Mark the recurrent theme of fear.) Some of you might see the shape of this narrative and guess that Metamun was fed a steady diet of paranoia by nasty wingnuts.  Yes and no. The conservative blogosphere was a scary place—it told him that his basic values were under constant assault. That some of the “basic values” in the package were not actually his was beside the point, because Metamun just generally hated the thought of State force being used to coerce people into violating their own principals.  Metamun was happy to fight for values that were not his own, on that account.  It did bother him, sometimes, the assumptions conservatives made, but by this time he had gotten used to thinking of himself as a minority, so the majority being different wasn't so jarring.  Of course there would be a few differences of opinion. But the Right accepted those differences in the way that surely the Left would not.  And he knew that this was true, because he’d seen it with his own eyes. The Left was VICIOUS to conservatives, sometimes in a very personal way.  In some ways, sick and often absent though he was, Metamun still got the basic high school experience as he watched insults and worse fly fast and thick.  Leftists expressed GLEE at any conservative misfortune.  They made absolutely insane comparisons between conservative pundits and Nazis.  “Republican” was a punchline to very cruel (and sometimes racist and sexist) jokes. Sometimes they seemed to outright lie.  Metamun remembered a novelty song about Satan claim he was “in all Rush Limbaugh’s rants”, and Metamun KNEW that was untrue because he’d been listening to Rush for years and couldn’t recall the man even referencing scripture outside of holidays. Metamun heard people casually cite Glenn Beck as routinely opposing gay marriage when Metamun had heard the man himself arguing that the government shouldn’t even be involved with marriage (and thus that it couldn’t compel churches to validate gay marriages, sure, but that seemed a separate issue). But it was watching his conservative friends’ comments sections and twitter feed that solidified the image of progressive-as-persecutor.  It was blatantly apparent that these people hadn’t come to engage, they just wanted to take potshots.  Ad hominem abounded, total lack of reading comprehension was displayed, and just general delight in cruelty was rampant.  He was particularly appalled by the treatment of minority conservatives, who received all sorts of abuse based on race, sex, and orientation. Something that stuck with Metamun for years was watching conservative women get rape threats, death threats, and admonitions to kill themselves.  One of his best friends got such an admonition in response to mentioning on twitter it was her birthday.  That was it. Nothing political.  Just excitement for a special, personal day.  And none of his Leftist friends seemed to understand what their own wing was doing.  They talked about the Right doing such things, which baffled him—he’d never seen anything like that, or, if he did, it was only once or twice and never anybody HIS friends actually associated with.  Every movement has a few bad apples, right? (Mark the irony.) It didn’t help that once, depressed, Metamun DID admit on twitter that he was a conservative, and moreover that he was afraid people would stop being his friends over that. He promptly lost two friends. When he asked a third friend if they could please ask if he’d been unfollowed on purpose, they said they’d do it. And then THEY never talked to him again, even when he reached out.  He was convinced the only reason he didn’t lose everybody was that they hadn’t all seen the tweets—he deleted them quickly. So there Metamun was: Lonely, convinced that even if he didn’t line up perfectly with conservatism that at least conservatives accepted him, and very angry at the Other Tribe that was so cruel and callous to him and his friends.  But he was starting to grow up, and as he did he began noticing certain discrepancies.  Now and then the movement that was supposed to have a Big Tent felt oddly crowded. People sometimes rubbed each other the wrong way.  Metamun particularly hated it when the term RINO got thrown around, because he was all too aware that might apply to someone like him. Then there was the lack of nuance.  He slowly came to realize people on both sides of the aisle would sometimes use “nuanced” as a snide insult.  When the Dalai Lama described himself as anti-capitalist Metamun was disappointed, but understood (and also His Holiness was on record as saying when someone’s shooting at you it’s reasonable to shoot back, which Metamun thought made up for a lot). He did not expect certain conservatives to not only sneer at His Holinesses “nuanced” relationship with capitalism (accepting material support to fight against Mao) but actually accused him of being a PRC puppet. What?  Hadn’t they read anything about the man’s life?  Or his own writings?  Yes, he’d tried to work with Mao, but that fell through because Mao hated religion unequivocally—how could any religious leader work with that?  Why were they jumping to such insane conclusions?  This wasn’t what conservatives were supposed to do! There were a thousand other cracks in the façade, but two stand out. First, Metamun admitted to a dear friend, full of apprehension, that he voted for Mitt Romney. And not only did she not cut him out of her life, she explained WHY she wouldn’t do that.  Metamun was elated but also very confused—this wasn’t how the script in his head went.  He was admitting this because the pain of keeping a secret was too much, and he fully expected to pay a price for that.  He was (and remains) a drama-addled moron that way.  He was also a creature who put a lot of stock in narrative, and this narrative was nothing like he expected. Next, Metamun himself cut two friends out of his life over politics—years apart, but the number is important.  The first hurt, but felt very justified.  The second haunted him.  Metamun was easily haunted, but by this point he’d started really struggling with intrusive thoughts.  Around and around they went in his head, and although there was extreme, maddening monotony, now and then he’d see angles he’d missed before. The number was important. Two friends he’d definitely lost (he was never really sure of the third).  Two friends he’d rejected.  Why did he reject them?  Because he figured they’d hate him if they knew he didn’t agree with them.  He figured they had made their positions so strident that it was just inevitable that they would cut him out if he didn’t cut them out first. And he realized, stupidly, after years of realizing nothing, that maybe that’s exactly how the people who left him had felt.  Oh, perhaps they didn’t.  But what if they did?  What did that say about what, ultimately, they had in common? We’re getting closer to the present, so I’m going to start talking about myself in first person again. I recognize this version of myself more easily. As time went by I grew more and more jaded with American conservatism, but I still thought of myself as a conservative.  A lot of people were like that, children of the Tea Parties who had thought that the Right was the only alternative to all the abhorrent things we saw on the Left. But familiarity breeds contempt, and soon we were well acquainted with abhorrent things on the Right.  It seemed as if there was a rot spreading, something that had started as a speck and was now growing.  The spirit of fellow feeling was starting to evaporate.  There were a few things going on, but by this point I was barely paying attention to any of them.  I hadn’t looked at a conservative blog in years.  I didn’t listen to Rush.  The fracture of American conservatism could probably be better documented by someone who still gives a damn, but we all know what was the final crack in the glass. Donald Trump’s candidacy split the Right seemingly overnight, and not neatly down the middle. The big question is, of course “love him or hate him”, but even people who don’t go to those extremes get caught up in the animosity.  This, really, was when I couldn’t call myself a conservative anymore—no, not because his election was an indictment of conservatism, but because as the jagged rift grew, I suddenly realized that literally everything that scared me about the Left was present in the Right, both the MAGAheads and the Never Trumpers. All the bile.  All the cruelty.  All the callous disregard for our shared humanity.  All the absurd stereotyping and reductionism. Everything I’d seen on the Left that made me feel that the Right, imperfect as it was, was my only refuge, was suddenly EVERYWHERE, from quarters I’d thought were safe.  A lot of my conservative friends were hit even harder than I was; a few people desperately tried to reconcile people who had once laughed and dined together, but were now swearing never to speak again, or worse, verbally assaulting each other on a daily basis.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  This was not the way we were supposed to work.And then, at last, I realized that the only reason I was just seeing all this awfulness NOW was because it hadn’t been directed at me and mine in the past.  And here we come to the main point I want to impress on everybody who’s bothered to read this far: My short-sightedness was in no way unique. We always try to show our best face to our friends—and to our Tribe.  We are thoughtful and considerate of people on our side.  We roll our eyes at the people on our fringe—silly things, aren’t they?  Imagine someone taking them seriously. Our enemies do not see our best face.  They see our war face.  We fight them tooth and nail.  We exult in their defeats, which become our triumphs—somehow.  And we see this horrible, poisonous crest at the top of their wave that threatens to engulf everything—their fringe. A leftist is not going to be threatened and insulted for being a rightist—at least not consistently outside of “purity” arguments.  A leftist will be more cognizant of the threat posed by rightist fringes, because those fringes are not attacking the Right, per se.  And you know, this goes for all conflict.  You don’t see a problem as clearly if it’s not directly shoved in your face every day.  And you will become convinced that the problems that ARE shoved in your face every day are the only ones really getting worked up about, because everything else seems so ephemeral. I read people scoff at their own fringes—“Oh, nobody REALLY believes that stuff, and people who complain about it are just showing their white fragility/race baiting/gay agenda/whatever the key phrase to stop critical thought is in a given situation”. Guess what?  Those fringes are constantly needling at the other side. THEY are what is representative of your tribe to the Other Tribe.  They are loud, and they are cruel, and ignoring them because the other guys “deserve it” or you hope “now they’ll know how it feels” is fucking insane.  And yes, one of the reasons the Other Tribe sees it so often is that they go looking for it, but they go looking for it BECAUSE THEY ARE AFRAID OF IT and they want to make sure they know what it’s up to. The only thing worse than seeing the devil is losing sight of the devil. I’m no longer a conservative because that ideology is poisoned by hate.  But I didn’t become a progressive, because that ideology is also poisoned by hate.  Or maybe both ideologies have actually been abandoned, and now we just have two flavors of hate in opposition to each other.  Please believe me, I do not WANT to be apolitical.  Everybody hates the apolitical—we don’t even like ourselves much. And anyway, I’m one of nature’s conformists; I like belonging to a group.  But at this point committing to ANY political movement feels like I would be sacrificing my integrity.  And I would not want to be part of a movement that accepts people without integrity. I call myself a localist these days.  Something risk analyst Nassim Nicholas Taleb came up with.  Keep power close to the ground, don’t try to manage everything from the top down, resist interventionism in communities where you don’t have skin in the game.  Not aiming for a world without blowups, but keeping them at a smaller scale than we currently experience.  Forget fussing over socialism and capitalism; both are bad at large scales.  Both can work together at smaller scales.  The false dichotomy is a tool of tyrants. I want my country to get better.  But that’s not going to happen until people admit there are malicious, corrupting forces even in their own Tribes.  It’s not all the Other Tribe’s fault.  I still see people I love treating other people I love as subhuman.  And when I point this out, tentatively, people nod their heads and tell me I’m correct and then go back to thoughtless hatred. What I want people to understand, please, is that I want nothing to do with  political mass movements.  It’s all about different flavors of hatred.  It’s all about hurting people.  It’s all about hypocrisy and cruelty.  Fuck it. I am going to try to be a good person without hitching my ego to too many abstractions.  I am going to try to make the world around me a more pleasant place, and I am going to do that without giving a fuck about whatever sacred cows the Left Tribe and Right Tribe are busy genuflecting to. So.  I’m going to work harder not to deal with it here.

[vios-rockland-corner]

Rockland: The balance of good and evil

The date of this post is 3/27/20.  Please note that information revealed at this time via Patreon or any of the creator’s blogs may be subject to change after this date

I’ve been debating lately on how dangerous the Rockland universe is.  Lately it seems like there’s been more focus on the horror, so things start to look bleaker by the minute.  I was wondering if Rockland is primarily ruled by more evil forces and characters, but there may actually be some shred of light in this world.

I feel it’s best if I try to tackle this by looking at a few of the major groups I’m aware exist in this universe.

Let’s try examining alignments and see where we go from there with just a few (not all) of the main groups that exist in Rockland.

The Misfits

Alignment: Evil

Just based on the Misfits: First Blood demo and everything else we’ve seen and heard, I think it’s safe to say that the Misfits should generally be considered one of the more sinister elements of Rockland.  Now we haven’t seen all the characters yet, so characters here may indeed range between how evil one character is versus another.  Even the Misfits you meet in the demo game mention they do normal stuff from time to time.  They just have a propensity for murder.  Murder is a “no no” though, so I’m still classifying them as bad guys.  We’ve yet to see how big the group is, so how much of a hold they have over the town/city they live in is an unknown factor.  This group could either an occasional problem for society, or a much more serious danger.

The Professionals

Alignment: Evil

We have some names and faces now, but we definitely lack far more information on the Professionals than we do the Misfits.  Still, considering these characters have some confirmed blood ties with the Misfits, and even dialogue in the demo confirming that murder basically runs in the family, it’s probably safe to assume this group is just as dangerous as the Misfits.  In fact, they are possibly even more dangerous.  I went through some ideas in a previous post on the dangers the group could hold in society and how these familial connections mean you better watch out who you make an enemy of in Rockland.  I also touch on how this group may end up being the reason why so many of the human characters get away with murder.  Especially if it’s through the generations.  Same with the Misfits though, not sure how many characters make up the Professionals.  Numbers and positions in society would determine the overall threat they pose.

Fallen Angels

Alignment: Neutral?

After we get some games out on the Misfits, we’re probably going to head back into the focus on Zeitgeist (Cain’s remake game).  It sounds like we’ll get a lot of lore in said game and better learn about the Fallen Angels themselves.  Now, I’m not 100% sure on the alignment here, but I’m taking a stab to consider that the Fallen Angels are part of the natural order.  They have specific jobs to do relating to the mortal world, so that’s their main focus.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the reason they’re likely not going to swoop in and save people from characters they’d likely punish in the afterlife (like the Misfits or Professionals) is because they simply aren’t allowed to, or aren’t that invested in every single small infraction made by mortals.  I mean, if you live for thousands of years, you may not be that interested in solving every single little problem that occurs.  

Now...specific angels may fall into different alignment categories.  Sam Volkov my current guess is that he’d be something like Lawful Neutral.  I think he’s still a reaper in this universe, and when it comes to death everyone is pretty much equal (good, bad, young, old, you get the idea).  He can be a friendly character though from what we’ve seen in the Zeitgeist demo.  Another fallen angel I’m aware of that we haven’t seen yet (he WAS referred to though in the Zeitgeist demo) is Michael Volkov.  Now I have no confirmation on what his current role is, but in the past he was basically the fallen angel of war and chaos.  He wasn’t necessarily a character you wanted to run into either.  Now if he still has that role...he can TECHNICALLY still be neutral.  If it’s based on the natural order, sometimes you need entropy and conflict in the universe.  If it’s his job and he happens to enjoy it, *shrugs* we may just consider him chaotic neutral in this case.  Cain Zeitgeist is....well we have so many spoilers but this fellow makes me keep changing my mind as to what he’s about.  For now my guess is he’ll either be true neutral or chaotic neutral.  He still keeps me on my toes, but he may not be as bad as his previous incarnation.  

Then we have someone like Damien Morningstar.  In previous lore, he was both against Cain and honestly his father’s work in general.  Cain may be changing but I think....Damien in the Rockland universe is not only still going to be a priest, but also still hates his dad Luke (aka Lucifer).  So he may not stand for the same beliefs as all the other angels.  If he resembles some of his older incarnation, he could be one of the few angels who actively works in the mortal world to assist humans as much as he can.  Still not a lot of information yet, so I can’t be sure if he’s still neutral or if he jumps up into a good alignment.

Mark of Belial Main Cast

Alignment: Good

Much longer down the road, the creators want to work on a set of detective games known as the Mark of Belial (or at least that’s what the first game would be called).  In those games, you actually will be working to find a killer.  So naturally, you’re working with a specific police precinct to catch the perpetrator.  I think that blatantly tells us we’ll be working with the good guys for once.  Only way I could see the main cast here as a bad alignment is if we get the rug pulled out from under us and find out ALL the characters and division are corrupt, haha.  Not an impossibility, but I don’t think that’s the plan.  The original concept I believe was an all human cast, so I’m going to keep up with that assumption here.  So unlike the Fallen Angels who (mostly) probably keep their nose out of most mortal affairs unless it’s job related, this would be a group of human characters actively working towards the safety of the citizens.  So yay, finally some hope in all this!  This tells me not all the characters in Rockland will place their tail between their legs and bow to characters like the Misfits or the Professionals.  There may be SOME cowardly or corrupt members of the police/detective division you work with, but I believe the games WILL be geared towards trying to catch the culprit.  You do stand a fighting chance.

The Hand of God

Alignment: Good?

Another group without a lot of information, but the name gets thrown around here and there.  Now if the characters of the Mark of Belial Cast are all human, they will most likely end up dealing with (and being more competent with) human affairs.  The Hand of God we’ve gotten hints that they are more aware of some of the more supernatural elements of Rockland, including the Fallen Angels.  That means they KNOW stuff, which is a big help to keeping citizens safe.  The creators have said they are aware of the dangers some of these supernatural entities or characters pose.  I’m making the assumption for now that this group is actually made up of good guys trying to quietly keep the peace from behind the scenes.  While normal citizens are busy fearing disappearances or murders that are committed by human characters like the Misfits and the Professionals, the Hand of God is likely being kept busy by “bigger fish to fry.”  Not to say that humans can’t be extremely dangerous (either via a violent nature or a dangerous intellect), but between a human serial killer and a supernatural one, I’m placing my bets that the supernatural killer is much more of a threat.  Also, the reveal of certain supernatural elements to the public might cause a mass panic.  So I think the Hand of God group will be working for the greater good, but it’s very possible that they’ll have only so much time and resources to spend on dealing with the more dangerous elements or Rockland.  The police and detectives will just have to be left in charge of taking care of the more sinister human characters in Rockland.

I have to say...I feel a little better.  Yes, the more evil characters and elements of Rockland are likely still going to be EXTREMELY problematic.  They probably have ways not only to survive and avoid judgement, but to continue their heinous deeds as they please.  I wouldn’t have it any other way because it’s more fun and interesting when you have villains capable enough of committing evil deeds and getting away with it.  They won’t be a joke.  BUT, it does seem like not every character we meet in the Rockland games is going to be against us.  Sure, we may not know right away which characters we can trust or not, but it looks like there will be some who mean you no harm or even want to keep you safe.  It’s just a matter of which opponents the good guys are up against, and if they are in the right place at the right time to save the day.

You know what’ll be fun to see though?  I’m sure several of these groups are going to end up intermingling with each other at one point or another.  What each party is aware of about the other when they meet is also interesting.  For example, if you’re doing police/detective work in the Mark of Belial games, you might have to go check a dead body or two for clues.  Said dead bodies may be currently kept in a funeral home they’ve recently arrived at.  That means we literally have some strong potential of getting at least cameos of the Willow family (which consists of Misfits and Professionals characters) in the MOB games.  Now wouldn’t that be fun?  You have to talk obliviously to literal murderers while you’re hunting for a murderer.  I wonder how characters like Quill and Alchemy would view the case.  I always imagined with the MOB games though that they’ll make a brand new character to be the main killer for those.  Who knows though?  Maybe you find out the killer IS a pre-existing character.  Maybe even one who’s usually “immune” when they commit crime.  Could end up being quite a pickle.

Also I have a weird feeling Quill will just go out of way to be super creepy to the detectives when they visit.  Just a feeling, haha.

Will be fun to clashing sides, though it may be quite a while before we get to that kind of content.

[kris10tisme]

Social Anxiety Origin Story

Social Anxiety is classified as a disorder. Isn’t that crazy!? You can actually read up on it on the MayoClinic or Webmd websites which shows that it really is a legitimate thing; it's not just you being a pussy. Most people who have social anxiety disorder don’t know what it is or why they’re like this. When we first become aware of our incomprehensible phobia we usually feel completely alien. People with this ailment tend to feel like the ultimate freaks, which knocks down their self esteem tenfold. If you have desperately searched online to potentially find answers: I feel you. The first time I felt a sense of belonging in this world was browsing through internet forums, reading about how people had the same irrational fears I did. You can find comfort in it sure, but it's definitely not the same as finding belonging in person. I didn’t know that I wasn’t completely alone in this struggle until I was maybe fifteen or sixteen years old navigating through my insufferable high school life!  During that time google searches quickly became my best friend.

I can’t even really pinpoint where my SAD began for me. As a child I was pretty shy but I’d eventually open up once I became semi-comfortable. I didn’t ruminate whether or not I made some sort of fool of myself publicly. I was just having a blast man. Childhood is all fun and games but you really do get the carpet ripped out from under you when you enter adolescence.

 I grew up a very privileged child financially - my parents both being middle class. My bills were all taken care of, and I didn't have to worry too much about the connections I would make with others in life. I was a kid. When a kid has no friends it's sad, but when an adult has no friends you wonder what they did wrong and you try to steer clear of them. There must be a reason why they are friendless: they must fetishize feet in their spare time! When you’re a child your only occupation is being a student. I’d wake up, go to school, learn stuff, socialize a bit among peers and then go home to watch TV and repeat, not questioning or overthinking the minutiae or idiosyncrasies in my life; just living day by day. Everything was smooth sailing. I figured I would hit my peak as a teenager and do all the cool teenagery things I saw on television like going to parties, making the cheerleading squad (though I’m not athletic at all; it would just happen), and have a tumultuous relationship with several boys. I’d pick the most special one to lose my virginity to on prom night! Then college would come, I’d go there and graduate and get a job. Sounds simple right!?

WRONG!

Hitting puberty was a big eye opener for me. It’s like once I menstruated my self-esteem plummeted. Everything about life just seemed a lot more competitive. There are all these milestones that society expects you to complete by certain ages: your first beer, your first kiss, your first fornication, your first job. All terrible and unfamiliar things! Now that I had bled and grown boobs, I was in the process of becoming a woman. I had to start making preparations to accomplish these milestones.

Seventh grade was the first year of my life I was depressed, and that terrible feeling hasn’t really depleted all that much since. In sixth grade I felt like a rock star… until the end of the year. I was a downright bully, mocking people in my class for the way they looked and acted. Some of my classmates found me funny, and I liked feeling that bold. I liked knowing that people were on the edge of their seats waiting for me to comment on a situation. It wasn’t until the end of the school year when one of the girls I heavily bullied called me out on my malicious means of garnering attention from my peers. She didn’t even insult me, she just spat out the truth. “You’re mean KRISTEN! You’re a BULLY!”

I can’t even explain how thrown off I felt by that mere observation. I never questioned why I did what I did; I liked the attention. I liked being someone people would be eager to hear from to know my latest outrageous comments on what surrounds us. Hearing this girl call me out for being a mean bully was a gut punch like no other. I couldn’t believe my ears. To me this girl wasn’t a person; she was a vessel. Someone to make fun of. Someone who was an easy target because she had a whole line of insults thrown her way since even before I saw her as easy prey.

No one ever downright called me out on my behavior. My dad did tell my mom that I was a horrible daughter, and he even asked who would want to have a daughter like me. But that was mostly because I was disrespectful towards him. Such a justified comment for a parent to make about his adolescent daughter right in front of her :)

That summer break I had tons of time to reflect upon my actions. I recognized how downright awful I had been to a lot of my classmates and vowed to make amends in the coming school year. I want to say, most of the bullying took place before I began menstruating, so you can blame my abhorrent behavior on my lack of emotional resonance and the fact that my womanly empathy and sympathy had not yet kicked in. That’s how I excuse how I acted.

So by seventh grade I was menstruating, and I grew D cup breasts overnight. I became a stand-up person - someone who didn’t throw vulnerable people under the bus for my own benefit. I became what you would call... “compassionate.”

Seventh grade was the year everything went downhill for me. Maybe it was the hormones kicking in and getting the better of me, or maybe it was me becoming more aware of what society deems as acceptable and proper. I felt like I should be cultivating a role in society, and I didn’t know what role to take.  I couldn’t be loud and obnoxious anymore because my victims were starting to bite back and I realized the biting back hurt me more than I could handle.

For the rest of Junior High I struggled with my transitioning into a new person. My classmates instantly recognized how much softer and kind-hearted I became. I didn’t throw around as many insults, and if I did it was just playful banter.  Me and the girl I had so savagely bullied were on decent terms, though we never really interacted with one another except for when obligatory social protocol called for it. I struggled with finding my niche again within my class. I got along with people just fine, but I suffered through a big identity crisis: I didn’t know what I could contribute without being outwardly obnoxious. I didn’t know what stereotypical personality trait defined me. Things got a bit more fucked at home for me, so that really took a toll on me mentally. I’ll get into how family influences your socialization tendencies in another post.

I’ve never wanted anything more in life other than to be liked. I know they say that not everyone’s gonna like you and that you should accept that, but I can’t! I just can’t accept it! The only way I will accept someone not liking me is if they’re completely indifferent to me, like when I have not done anything to them or in front of them to warrant them having an opinion on my character. So I keep my mouth shut. BUT THEN… I worry about what a weirdo they must think I am. If I’m too quiet then I give people the opportunity to make assumptions about me based on the impressions they have on me. They can be thinking anything, like that I watch tentacle porn, or that I collect toenail clippings or something.

I wonder if keeping my mouth shut all these years has done me more harm than good emotionally. Speaking up opens you up for attack, and I always feel like I have to be on the defensive. But when you say nothing to anyone, are you really living your life to the fullest and taking advantage of opportunities that could benefit you?

Meeting someone and getting to know them feels kind of like a step by step interrogation for me. The worst question I always get is, “What do you do?” Which I assume means “what do you do for a living?” Another one is,“Do you have a boyfriend?” It seems to me that the general public believes having a solid and steady job and being in some sort of romantic relationship completes the prerequisites for having a satisfactory life. Do these people even consider that you may be unemployed AND single? And that they’re unintentionally making you feel shitty about yourself? Just keep the convo focused on the weather for god sake. 

I started this blog to vent about my feelings. I have been journaling a lot recently to blow off some steam because it's uncomfortable to complain about this stuff in real life. Only people on the internet can understand certain problems. I don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but I feel like social anxiety is an underrepresented disease in mainstream media. It’s embarrassing to tell people that you are anxious for your next family gathering because you don’t know if you should greet someone with a kiss on their cheek if they’re sitting down. Do I just bend down!? Should they stand up? Am I being too forward, or are they gonna be offended if I don’t make a move to embrace them? That's a whole ordeal for me. It's not what people call a “real problem” but this is the shit I think about while I lie in bed at night. So if shit similar to that wanders through your mind when you contemplate the world, maybe you can find some sort of catharsis through this blog. We may not have a very mainstream disease, but at least we’ve got each other to relate to. We’re people who find solace in reading about similar experiences we’ve experienced online. 

 Just thinking back on the fact that what jump started my anxiety issue was a small little comment made by someone whose life I made torturous. I don’t place the blame on this girl, as I just enabled her to pull the trigger on some deeper rooted issues I bore. Although it is quite the struggle I am glad that the nastier person I was eventually transformed into a more compassionate one. I never got to formally apologize to that girl. I hope I didn’t leave a big lasting impression on her. I was really shitty to her. I would reach out to her through social media and apologize, but I’ve got way too much social anxiety for that!

Well now that we’ve covered my origin story I would love to hear about all of yours. I will continue to write about various social situations or predicaments that freak me out, as well as stuff I’ve been through at home and in high school and how I’ve evolved and haven’t evolved. I don’t want this blog to be filled with negativity. Hopefully it's self-effacing in a not too depressing way. If it’s too depressing please let me know. I don’t want to spread the feeling of hopelessness with this blog. I want people to find comfort and humor, and maybe we can come up with some potential resolutions for certain scenarios and give each other tips. If there are any readers out there, thanks for reading. I hope this in some way made you smile and feel like less of an outcast. Keep trooping on! You’re not alone :)

[baddieromanova]

so you falice shippers still ship that mess who fucked once, even after alice willingly took him back after what he said to her and won't even talk to his new son? and are happy about it? lol sucks to be tasteless

This message has been sitting in my inbox for roughly 2 days and I’ve been going back and forth on whether to dignify it with a response or not. While I tend to ignore and delete hateful messages such as this and not give the coward behind them any form of the attention they crave, after careful consideration, I decided to abandon that belief because answering this question gives me a great opportunity to tell you about yourself and how wrong you are, sit back and get comfortable.

First of all, I’ll never understand how people who have 99% of a fandom blocked and filtered tags pertaining to what that fandom makes posts about and produces content for, still manage to make posts about what said fandom is doing, saying etc. Why do y’all make so much assumptions about a group of people you’ve sworn off all contact and interaction with for well over a year? How would you know what goes on in the Falice section of the fandom? So my main question here is, what’s the point of even using the block button against us if you’re still going to come to our blogs and goes through the tags to seek out what we’re up to? If these blocks weren’t in effect we could all have mature discussions instead of resorting to this, so I have to wonder, is it because the block button on your end prevents us from shutting down your bullshit so you can happily enjoy your idealistic totally pulled out of your ass version of Riverdale and it’s ships/characters? Hmm

Second of all, I can assure you no Falice fan is happy or even satisfied about their sudden reunion with no reconciliation or acknowledgement over what happened in 3x15, which we knew was bound to happen, hence why a lot of fics were produced back in the SUMMER containing the content we knew we were not going to get. Would we have loved to actually see FP apologise? Alice to punch him in the face? His reaction to Charles? A touching moment between all three after being reunited for the first time in 25 years? FP to practically grovel to Alice till he was on the brink of tears? Alice acting cold towards him? Heck yeah, we all at least wanted her to spit at him, I don’t know anyone who didn’t want her to act physically towards him, he deserved it, which is why we took our dreams to Wattpad and AO3. Personally I wanted a resentful anadonned child plot to play out where Charles initially hates Alice and we see that play out while they try to build a relationship. We have ranted, we have rambled, we have argued and we have moved on. We don’t watch this show with rose colored glasses and an idealistic perspective. We know it’s a joke and the writers are incapable of decent and realistic execution of development for friendships, relationships, break ups and reconciliations and use time jumps to avoid doing so, we’ve accepted that. We’ve made our peace with that, which is why we can still watch and find some enjoyment while you and others literally complain every single day over the most minor instances.

Thirdly, I admire your attempt to use the writers incompetence when it comes to writing relationships to push your “Falice is a mess who fucked once” arguement and even throwing in the 4x04 time jump matched with FP and Alice suddenly being together and little mention of Charles to put emphasis onto it. You’re trying to twist it into a Falice problem when it’s actually a Riverdale problem sweetheart, their problem with accurate story development and execution and just being lazy with any character and ship outside of Archie, Betty, Veronica and Jughead. If we want to go by that logic then I suppose by default Tom is a bad parent for being conveniently absent during his sons participation in a farm cult and not noticing his missing kidney despite being a cop thus immediately being able to pick up on that. I guess Sweet pea is a shit friend for “not saving” his bff from said cult and I guess Polly’s a bad mother for putting the same twins she was willing to run away from her family from to keep safe, up for adoption, and not even acknowledging their presence now or even having a say in who has custody of them. Of course none of these things are actually true, they’ve just unfortunately happened because of either plot convenience for the core four characters or just complete lack of care from the writers. Just the fact that they still seem to be in their newborn phase despite being nearly three years old according to the shows timeline says it all. They don’t care. As for “mess of a ship who only fucked once”, as much as you people love to clutch onto season one canon or what was established back then for dear life and disclaim 3x04, you sure do love to ignore certain parts of that season and keep 3x04 in your mouths when it comes to Falice. Seasons one and two always implied much more happened between Falice as teens than what 3x04 presented. You don’t go from telling someone you’d still sleep with them if they weren’t so stuck up, impulsively telling them to leave their spouse, doing a parole violating act to protect them, writing an apology letter despite being unable to strong two sentences together, talking about your kids making said mistakes you and your ex did and then snapping back with they weren’t all mistakes and having your heart broken upon seeing the woman you love return to her husband to “Yeah we just fucked once”. Falice were more than a one time thump, and that’s the canon I’m choosing to stick with, the same way you choose to believe Hal fathered Charles despite there NEVER being any implication through dialogue, backstory or characters that he was and there being a higher chance of the father being Tom or Fred before FP being a viable candidate. I’m not going to suspend belief of that just because the writers were more concerned with the sensationalism and “fun” aspect of the teen actors playing their parents, and essentially just doing dress up because none of their portrayals of their parents were accurate or even done to a high standard, Lili’s acting was decent but her acting is decent in general, Cole’s mannerisms were superb and KJ looked like Luke’s twin but outside of that, I didn’t see any of them as young versions of the parents and I promise nobody else did, and doing a storyline revolving around a bootleg Dungeons and Dragons game and making it borderline supernatural rather than just giving us a simple episode about the parents as teens based on the stories that have told on the show already.

You’re most likely a Halice or crackship that will never happen stan, you’ve got bigger priorities than FP and Alice and their relationship love which I’m sure has no impact on you or your faves whatsoever , maybe if you spent the time you did crying over Falice actually minding your business and shipping your ship you wouldn’t be so bitter.

[nikkiwriteswords]

Hey there! I have a TUA theory that's been going through my head for weeks, and I'd love to hear what you think of it/if you can expand it in any way. Basically, I wonder if the powers the Hargreeves siblings have are somehow linked to the country they were born in. Luther, who has a Norther-European-sounding name, has a Viking's strenght, Klaus is from Austria/Germany, countries with a long history of wars (and therefore, death), Vanya is from Russia, homeland to great composers... (1/2)

(2/2)… a friend of mine suggested that Five could be from England, a country which used to control most of the world, because he can go wherever he pleases. I have a couple of ideas about the others, but I’m less sure about them. I’d love to get your feedback on this, and maybe hear your ideas! I think you do a magnificent job on your account (I literally opened my account today cause I couldn’t get enough of the content in your blog!) All the love, and thanks in advance!

Hey! Oh wow, thank you so much!! It makes me so happy to know people are enjoying my blog - so much so that you started your own, that’s amazing! I’m looking forward to seeing what you write: this is a great theory to start with, and I have had some ideas about the characters’ origins before, so let’s see what we can tease out of it: Now, let’s start by saying that we don’t have actual canon confirmation of the siblings’ origin and ethnicities (at least not that I can recall). For one, it’d be inaccurate to try and assume anything from the comics because the style is not true-to-life. However, what we can say is that Netflix’s casting choices for the show brought a much clearer diversity to our (anti)hero family. This is a good  backlash against the prevalent whitewashing in tv and film (specifically Hollywood) of the last few years, but (1, is it diverse enough? and 2) it raises the question of how far we should read into the ethnicities of the cast as reflective of the characters. We must be careful not to 1) confuse comic canon with tv canon, and 2) conflate or assume things about a character identity based on assumptions about the actor/actress, unless they are qualities the cast themselves want to give their character. For instance, I’ve no idea if Cody Ray Thompson is Jewish, but he has confirmed (along with sharing a ton of other personal headcanons) that Dave was Jewish, based on Dave’s surname in on the dogtags. Meanwhile, Robert Sheehan disguises his Irish accent, therefore we can’t assume Klaus is Irish just because Robert is. Accent is a pretty big signifier, tbf, so this one is probably pretty obvious. 

So what can we use as identifiers? Language cues, for one. Although it’s not conclusive evidence, we can theorise that Klaus knows a little German, and speculate that he wanted to feel connected to his German/Austrian heritage and distance himself from his upbringing. Therefore, from a linguistic perspective, names are also quite telling.      

(They could have always been picked out of a hat, of course, but that’s no fun, and name meanings are so beautifully subjective.) This actually ties in with my own ideas on name analysis and what they can tell us about each character. (It’s in my drafts somewhere, but it’s only rudimentary so far). I was inspired when I saw this post [x]. What I had not considered, though, is how their heritage might be alluded to through their powers. The point about Russian composers is really interesting. Of course, other countries have great composers too, so how do we prove that link? If I had any classical music knowledge, I’d look through both the comics and the show for songs Vanya plays, or  music associated with her in the show, or see if there’s any background details that could point to Russian composers in association with her character.  Klaus, Germanic, means ‘victory of the people’. It originated from the Greek Nikolaos (coincidentally… so does Nikki. Just throwing that out there). It sounds heroic, but Klaus is decidedly anti-heroic for most of the first season. So perhaps we can interpret him as, quite literally, not living up to his name. Then there’s the elephant in the room: his untapped potential. Within that meaning, ‘victory of the people’, there’s connotations of conflict (and therefore death); revolution; the underdog rising up out of oppression. As Klaus does. Of course, if we’re talking about German heritage and conflict, we’ve got to mention WW2. There could be tenuous parallels to be made between Reginald and toxic ideologies like Nazism, and the outfit he wears as he stands in the door of the mausoleum did remind me of the uniforms of SS soldiers in Schindler’s List. But honestly, that would need fact-checking against reality, not another movie, and I don’t really want to touch Nazism any further than that without proper research. Nonetheless, I do wonder what the reaction would be to a man with a German name meeting a man with a Jewish name just 20 years after the end of WW2. However, I’d be more inclined to think about that name meaning again - victory of the people - and how it might allude to the Berlin Wall. But again, I’d need to research, because I know next to nothing about it. Could any of this explain his power to see the dead, though? If Klaus was intended to be Germany personified, specifically history of Germany wars and ideological conflicts, I’d say - it’s a stretch. There could be something there about carrying your past with you, learning from it instead of rejecting it, but it’s too vague. I also had brief thoughts on Luther. It is also a Germanic name, likewise derived from Greek, and means ‘soldier of the people’. In Greek, it derives from a word meaning ‘free’. Now, Luther is the conventional hero to Klaus’s antihero. (Does that place them on two sides of the metaphorical wall?) Where Klaus does not live up to his name, Luther does. He is the people’s soldier, with the strong moral conviction to protect and dish out justice. To that end, strength plays into that image. That said, I don’t know if there’s any signifiers from Luther’s character about his ethnic origins other than his name. However, the German theologist Martin Luther, founder of Lutheranism, is thought to be a key namesake for ‘Luther’. Martin Luther was seminal to the Reformation of the Roman Catholic Church, from which Lutheranism was born. Of course, the topic of religion might not relate directly to Luther, but the ideological crisis surrounding the Protestant Reformation - devote worship of a higher power, and a crisis of free will following challenges to predestination (all events in one’s life are predetermined by God) - could be equated with Luther’s crisis of faith in Reginald. All that being said, I also have a very vague recollection from my research that it also literally means ‘strong’. So. Mystery solved?As for Five, I really don’t think we can conclude anything that wouldn’t be pure headcanon. He’s an enigma, and is likely to stay that way. The only thing I can say is that his name - just a number - makes him elusive, hard to pin down, just like his powers.    And, just a final thought: what purpose would it serve, to have heritage linked to powers? Sure, there’s the implication of the effect it has on identity as a whole, which is the underlying assumption of this entire post. But what else does it imply, to use these powers for good (or bad)? Global unification? We know that Hargreeves’s entire purpose for the Academy is to ‘save the world’, but even though they are facing down the apocalypse, the show makes it feel very personal, not universal. A family united. 

[stevieang]

May I Have This Dance? 2/?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size Reader Insert

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going.  This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff.

Tags:   @3dsaunt​  @andiyholly​  @averyrogers83​  @babybluesunsets​ @bettercallsabs​ @brittyevans​  @brookebarnes​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @cecygee​​   @csrfavs​​   @docharleythegeekqueen​​  @dorito-distractions​​  @everythingisoverrated​​  @fabicchi​​  @favhearts​​  @flawless-disaster​​  @gifsbysimplysonia​​ @hazeleyedgirl7​​   @hennessy0274-blog​​ @inumorph​​ @jaguars2007​​  @jaamesbbarnes​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​​  @janeyboo​​ @joshburtonhellzyess​  @jouhainak​​ @learisa​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @lilylovescomics​​   @lojo83​​   @lookwhatyoumademequeue​​  @lostinspace33​​  @madicardi​​  @magellan-88​​   @mamapeterson​​   @me-a-hopeless-romantic​​  @meyoko10​​  @mindingmyownbusiness​​ @mizzzpink​​ @neverleturheartshow2​​  @nomadicpixel​​  @part-time-patronus​​ @patzammit​​ @pinkieandthebrain1​​ @redqueen1221​​ @sebbytrash​​  @sgtjbuccky​​  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​  @stark-spangled-banner-man​​  @st-eve-barnes​​ @stillherebiandabitch​​ @sunriserose1023​​ @suz-123​​ @the-real-kellymonster​​    @tutis24​​ @winterismyfavoriteseason1945​​  @winters-beauty​​ @yaykitty3​​

Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding.  At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston.  Much polite flirting ensues.  Will there be more to come?  (That’s not a rhetorical question, I’m honestly asking for your input about whether I should write more.)

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful responses, reblogs, and likes on this, my first RPF! I am always stunned at how wonderfully supportive this community can be, and it makes my day better each and every time I get one of those notifications.  Here’s a second chapter and I have a third planned.  We’ll see how folks feel about it, if it’s worth continuing.  Thanks again!!!!! Happy V-Day!!!!!!!

Chapter 2

**All Italicized dialogue indicates characters are communicating using American Sign Language**

When you turned over and saw the sun peeking around the edges of the hotel curtains, you reached out lazily for your phone and yelped when you saw the time.  It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and you were just waking up.  You hadn’t slept that late since...well...ever.  You quickly did your “morning” stroll through the land of social media and after eating a protein bar you stashed in your suitcase and drinking a large bottle of SmartWater, set up on your balcony with a book and your music.  Life was very good.

Around the same time on the top floor of the hotel, Tom awoke to several messages from his team - his agent, manager, director of his next project - all wanting to check in with him and ask when he planned to return to work.  After letting them know he’d be in D.C. for a few days and that he was relatively unscathed, his thoughts turned to you.  Though it was your voice that grabbed him - honey and whiskey with a touch of bright sweetness - it was your easy smile and raucous, unrestrained joy that pulled him closer.  When you danced and he saw how comfortable you were in your life, in your circle of friends, in your body, his feelings shifted from interested to intrigued.

To be honest, he’d become quite accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, or, at the very least, not making it difficult to get to know them better.  You immediately stood out with your gentle stubbornness, obvious kindness and undeniable intelligence.  It was a potent combination that made him eager to learn more, though he surprised himself when he honestly could not say whether you were as interested as he was.  No time like the present to test the waters.

TWH: Good afternoon.  Sleep well?

Nothing.  No conversation bubble, no “read” receipt, no response.  

Nothing.  You were surprised Tom hadn’t been in touch after last night.  You had tried very hard in recent years to enjoy each moment as it came, to live in the present, rather than pissing it away by focusing on the future.  You were disappointed, no doubt, but figured it was a time and experience you’d always hold close to your heart.  It had been awhile since you’d felt a connection with anyone, and to think it was with someone as kind and gentlemanly as Tom? Well, that was icing on the cake.  (Not to mention that he was shockingly handsome, funny, and intense).

You showered with the intention of washing off the cobwebs and went out in search of dinner.  D.C. had many amazing restaurants, but you were only interested in one thing - pizza.  With your wallet and phone safely tucked away, you headed down to the lobby to find your idea of oooey, gooey, cheesy, heaven.  You confirmed the address with the concierge and were almost out the door when you saw Tom standing out on the sidewalk, talking and laughing with a stunning woman with black hair, a figure worthy of Vogue, and 6-inch heels.  You ignored your instinct to hang back, to avoid being seen, but there was no need.  He saw you and smiled, excused himself, and walked over, kissing your cheek.  His companion kept her focus on her phone, so you quickly filled him in on your current mission for pizza and started for the door.

“You don’t have to rush off, we’ve got a few minutes.” He glanced sideways at his date and reached out for your fingertips, playing with then as if they were piano keys. That started all kinds of unexpected conflicted feelings and you suddenly found something shiny to pick up on the ground, allowing you to step just out of his reach. He noticed.

“I tried texting you this morning, but when I didn’t hear back I wondered, again, if I’d done something that upset you.”  His arms were crossed across his chest and his upper body leaned forward.  It was casually done but felt intentional, powerful.  You felt important.  After assuring him he hadn’t and showing him that you hadn’t received any messages you quickly determined that he had transposed two numbers when he entered your info into his phone.  You laughed thinking about whomever received a message from him and if they had any clue of their unintentional brush with celebrity.  

His companion quietly made her way over, looping her arm through his and lazily laying her hand on his bicep.  She smiled and whispered, making a small smile appear as he patted her hand and bid you goodnight with a small bow.  You smiled and walked away, intent on yummy sustenance.  Little did you know Tom’s eyes followed you until he ducked into the waiting car.

You were in search of heaven and you found it.  The same pizza place you frequented in grad school was still in business and walking in was like stepping into a time warp.  You were hit with a wave of memories some bright and happy, others sadly nostalgic.  Pushing the past aside, you stepped forward and ordered.  As you waited, you took some pictures and posted them, tagging your grad school friends that you’d be seeing the next night.  You decided to Uber home (for the sake of the pizza) and you were soon ensconced in your room, pizza and new teenage rom-com queued up.  You glanced over when your text alert sounded, fully expecting responses to your Instagram posts.  Nope.

TWH: Was your quest successful, m’lady?

You: Yes, kind sir, thank you.  How’s dinner?

TWH: Delicious, but my mind’s elsewhere, to be honest.

You: Your poor date! She doesn’t deserve anything less than your full attention.  I’m disappointed. :(

TWH: My date?? You mean Laura? We’re not on a date.

You: Oh, ok.  Sorry to make an assumption, but you were standing next to a ravishingly beautiful woman, both dressed up, and you left together in the same car. Hmmmmm….wonder why I thought that? LOL

TWH: I can see why you did.  I’m sorry I didn’t disavow you of the idea, but Laura is the producer of an upcoming film and we were meeting the backers tonight.  It’s work, that’s all.  Money talk.

You: Well, at least you’re getting a nice night out with hopefully nice people.

TWH: Yes, that I am.  They want to go out to a bar for drinks, but I’m thinking of begging off.

You: You ok?

TWH: Yes, but as I said, my mind is elsewhere and I think I’ve successfully done what was asked of me.  I believe I’ll be able to exit gracefully without repercussion.

You: Ok, well, as long as you’re alright.  I’ll let you be so you can extricate yourself and enjoy the rest of the evening.

You smiled and pressed send.  Before you could start the movie, there was a text alert immediately followed by a knock at the door.  

TWH: I’m extricated and I hope to, thanks.

Your look through the peephole had you chuckling as you quickly opened the door and smiled.

Tom’s suit jacket was open, his hands clasped behind his back. “I told you my mind was elsewhere.”

“I didn’t think that meant here, but I’m happy it did.”  He smiled brilliantly at your response.

“Since you mentioned pizza and movies, I’ve been preoccupied with both.  I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but could I join you?  I come bearing gifts.”  He brought his hands from behind his back, one holding a very good bottle of wine and the other holding a tub of chocolate ice cream with caramel and chocolate.  You almost jumped him then and there.

After ushering him in, freezing the ice cream, pouring the wine, and offering him his choice of seat and slices, you started “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” the new movie that transported you back to the days of Sixteen Candles and Jake Ryan, your first movie crush.

You had seen it a few times before (ok, 15.  Ok, ok maybe more than that when you fast forwarded to the smooshy parts), so you were glad to show off when you answered Tom’s questions.  The script was based on the best-selling YA novel of the same name, the lead actors were new-ish with crazy chemistry, and it had been such a success that Netflix had already ordered a second installment.  Tom’s laugh prompted you to turn to him with an “are you making fun of me?” look on your face, which started him roaring.

“You are adorable.  You are so invested in this story, it’s infectious.”  You pushed his shoulder as you turned red.

“I’m not making fun, darling, I guess I’m just jaded.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to see a movie through the eyes of someone looking at the finished product rather than the million moving parts that go into making it.  It’s beautiful.”  

He grabbed your hand, both of you looking down as he intertwined his fingers with yours and spoke so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if you weren’t side by side.  “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Tom.”  His other hand had come round and was softly placed on your thigh.

“Is this ok?” was barely audible, but you nodded.  As you covered his other hand with yours, your laptop screen lit up, making you drop his hand, bounce off the couch, and shriek with happiness.  You ran over to accept the Video Relay Call from your one of your grad school roommates, Jason.

Tom was sure you wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you, but instead, he was sitting alone, dumbfounded.  You were staring at the laptop, clearly engaged in a hilarious conversation with the person on the other end, in sign language.  He stood up and walked next to you, watching you use a variety of facial expressions, both obvious and subtle, that would make many actors jealous.  He wished he understood.

You were so engrossed in the conversation that you barely noticed Tom sitting near you, watching you, with zero clue of what you were talking about.  You didn’t feel right about that.

You: J, hold on a sec, I have someone over and he doesn’t sign.  Let me catch him up.  

Jason: “Someone?” Who is this someone? Do I know him? Go ahead, I’ll wait.

When you pulled yourself away from Jason, it was surreal to see Tom quietly staring, as if he was studying you.  

You were struck by the uniqueness of the moment and threw your head back with laughter.  “I’m sorry, Tom.  I remember what it was like when I first started signing - I would watch fluent users for hours but have no clue what they were talking about, but didn’t really care because it was so beautiful, so graceful.  This is Jason, he was one of my roommates in grad school at Gallaudet University, here in D.C.  We’re getting together tomorrow night to see a play on campus.”

Tom took a deep breath in and blew an equally long one out while he took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.  “You were transformed….so expressive, so energetic.”  After looking at your face, he quickly added, “Not that you aren’t those things usually, but….”

You jumped in to save him from himself.  “You’re absolutely right.  When hearing people communicate, we rely on our tone of voice and the way we combine words, to convey the strength of our emotion.  In ASL, that responsibility is transferred to the body - facial expressions and body language are grammatical markers and necessary to communicate fluently.”  You turned your head back to the screen as your peripheral vision caught Jason waving for your attention.  

You: Sorry J, I was just going down the Intro to ASL road….I should introduce the two of you, you do it way better than me.

Jason: Hey, any friend of yours….why don’t you bring him to the show tomorrow night.  There are plenty of tickets and I need to do my male roommate duty of vetting potential suitors.

You: Who says he’s a potential suitor?

Jason: Your blushing, smiling face every time you even mention him.  What’s his name by the way?

“He’s asking about you and wondering if you want to come to the play tomorrow night.  I think he really just wants to embarass me.”  Because you were signing and speaking at the same time, Jason jumped up with a “YES” so loudly that it clearly took Tom by surprise, as it did most people.

“Do you want me to come? I don’t want to intrude on a night with your…..friend?” His eyebrows were raised expectantly, hoping the reality was something different.

“J says there will be voice interpreting, so you’ll wear a pair of headphones and hear everything the actors are signing.  I think you’d love it, if for no other reason than seeing a type of acting you’ve never experienced.  It’s unforgettable.  Please come.”  He nodded and you finished up the call after finalizing the details for meeting up the next night.

Non-stop yawning commenced as soon as you sat back on the couch, and Tom excused himself for the night.  As he kissed your cheek and slowly pulled back to look at you, you wished your body chose another time to yawn so big you felt like you dislocated your jaw.  You both chuckled and wished each other a good night, with promises to get in touch late morning.  

“I’ll call you with the details, if that’s alright?”

His smile made you think of the Cheshire Cat.  “Of course it’s alright.  You have my number.”

Chapter 3