#the definition of “complicated legacy”

[linnetagain]

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re comfortable answering questions about your fics here so please feel free to ignore this if you’re not.

I’m a russian queer who left a comment under chapter 3 of The Season and I’m super qurious why you decided to make Астарион :), Cazador and Halsin russian. In Good Men and Monsters you mention that Astarion has been called upyr, does he have Eastern European background in that universe as well?

I’m completely enamoured with and fascinated by your works and wait for new updates religiously. Thank you so much for sharing them with us, you’re a солнышко! 🖤

Hello friend!! I am slow to answer but happy to! I can't promise I'll be very eloquent or be able to provide a satisfying answer but I'll do my best.

First of all, I haven't specified Astarion's background in Good Men and I likely won't, so if you want to read him as Eastern European please do! I can absolutely see how it fits. In the context of that discussion it's the concept of Vampirism and the folklore surrounding it that is focused on Eastern Europe rather than he himself. I am absolutely not going to touch some of Stoker's vampiric lore because he was a xenophobic Victorian man (the boxes of dirt... goddamn, Stoker, what the fuck - the grave dirt of course is relevant in Good Men but it's 'the soil the vampire was buried in' not 'fifty boxes of soil from his homeland'). I could write a whole essay on the symbolism of the outsider as a threat and the crossover of the ostracized sections of Victorian society in Dracula (non-english, lower class, homosexual, the list goes on and fucking on) but this is already a long reply so I'll spare you and look at Season.

There are a couple of reasons that it fits, for me, and a lot of it is to do with the Russian history of competitive ice skating. Writing a modern AU Astarion who wasn't a vampire meant I knew I needed to find another way to have that aspect of his character where his life hasn't been his own, where it's been shaped by other people for their own purposes, and even as an adult and being 'free' to make his own choices, he's living with the legacy of who they made him, and working to be more than that. Competitive sport definitely has that aspect already, unfortunately, and ice skating even more so.

I also never wanted him to be the only Russian, because then of course you're risking tokenizing him. Cazador made sense for obvious reasons, but Halsin too. I considered him because he's the other high elf companion, but also because in game he's the one with a history of war. Transferring him to a modern day context was harder than a lot of the other characters, but I wanted him to have that similar ground with Astarion that he has in game, even if they never address it. Unintentionally, it means that in Season he and Astarion have very different experiences of their culture and identity, especially in context of the diaspora, which is something I really enjoy exploring.

Of course that then raises the question of the current geopolitical state of Russia and the wider Slavic regions. Having real world issues as a basis for plot is always somewhat fraught, but it's also something very close to my heart and that I want to write about. I also didn't want to make them all British to avoid any of that difficulty, that would be both unrealistic and uninteresting.

I think the ultimate reason is that fiction, even fanfiction, is our way of processing and reflecting on and exploring our world. It's less obvious in fantasy settings, but it's still very much there. The ultimate reason I choose to do anything is because it's interesting - and usually, in a real world context, that means it's fraught and complicated. I want to write about things that matter, to me and to anyone who might read it, and I want to do it in a way that means anyone reading from a different context might feel seen.

The reason I started writing in the first place, however many years ago, is that I didn't see any asexual rep in fiction and I knew that if I needed it, someone else needed it too. I do the same now. I have queer Russian friends who feel like the world has moved on from what's going on in Russia at the moment, or that all Russian people are being treated like they MUST agree with what the Russian government are doing. The nuance of the situation and their identity is erased by oversimplification. I suppose part of writing this is just me wanting to do anything I can to combat that. It's not much, but I hope it's something, to know that you're seen and still being thought about, and people still care.

Writing characters who have dealt with miscarriage, drug abuse, xenophobia, chronic pain, emotional neglect and all those kinds of things is because I have feelings about these subjects, I want to discuss them, I want to explore what it means to live through something like that and how it affects you as a person. Fiction is a space to do that, and to invite people into those conversations that we wouldn't have otherwise. Art has always been a starting point, and it's always been at the forefront of social and political change. I don't write fanfic thinking it's going to change the world, obviously, but I do write it with the intention of treating real life situations with the respect and consideration they deserve, rather than just using them for drama or brushing over them because it's a difficult thing to talk about.

I know that Season is a love story. That's the ultimate goal, and I presume that's why people are still reading. But it's also, to me, a story about what it means to be queer in our world today. What that looks like, how far we've come and how far we still have left to go. I want to give people a story that is real, in that sense. That takes in all the fucking awful shit that can come with being queer and out and open, and still have hope and a happy ending. It's not easy, and I don't ever want to pretend that it is. But fiction also gives us a place where we can imagine what a happy ending might look like, in a world that doesn't provide them as often as we'd like.

So. Sorry for the essay as a response, but. I suppose I made Astarion Russian because it made sense for his character, but also because I want to write with hope, and not manufacturing false hope by turning away from the world as it is. I want to write all the awful, difficult, horrible things, and believe that happiness and hope are possible anyway, despite, and including them. We don't live in an ideal world. Sometimes I want to cave to despair and think that things will never be better. I write because I don't want to believe that's true.

[kingofdoma]

best description of morgan spurlock's legacy ever

[rotteneldritchhorror]

I love being autistic enough about historical accuracy to check things like underwear in 1830s but not autistic enough about it to care enough if it’s too annoying to write in

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Diana Rigg (On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, The Assassination Bureau, A Midsummer Night’s Dream)—Though she may be most famous across the pond for her Game of Thrones-era career, here on her native soil she is an icon of the 60s and female empowerment! Arguably best known for slaying as Emma Peel in The Avengers, her biggest pop culture legacy is definitely playing the only woman Bond truly loved - Tracy di Vincenzo - and absolutely stealing the movie (OHMSS) from under George Lazenby’s nose. The Assassination Bureau is also an extremely fun and underrated period adventure film where her boundless energy and wit is better matched by Oliver Reed. She excelled at playing alluring women with a sense of humour and darker complications underneath. Undoubtedly one of England’s most lovable, intelligent, funny, sexy and unforgettable actresses of all time, I entreat you VOTE PRINCESS DI !!

Barbra Streisand (Funny Girl, Hello Dolly)—I love her smile!! I love her nose!! I love her Brooklyn accent!! She's hilarious and gorgeous and real!!! I love her sense of humor! I love her voice!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Diana Rigg:

"She lived with a director/partner/boyfriend for eight years in the 60s and told the tabloid press '[I have no desire] to be respectable'"

Barbra Streisand propaganda:

"If you want to know why I’m submitting her, you’ll just have to read her 900 page memoir My Name is Barbra. It’ll explain everything!"

Lovely, smart, funny and a GORGEOUS VOICE

have you seen her? she could sing and dance and i love her so much in funny girl

Her most famous movie line is telling herself “Hello Gorgeous,” what else can I say lol. One of the most famous Hollywood divas of our time, who’s still alive and going strong. All of her outfits in Funny Girl are also soooo pretty. Plus she got to act alongside Omar Sharif, who was in the Vintage Men Poll.

She IS the greatest star! Her voice! Her eyes! She has one of the most stunning profiles I've ever seen. Talent in SPADES! (And honestly, as a wlw it's disingenuous to ignore it - a truly beautiful cleavage)

[crimsonmoonlight88]

Noa's Potential Love Triangle

"You like her--Soona."

"We were born within a sunset."

Okay listen, I never thought I'd be here considering a potential love triangle in this series, but here we are.

Now, I won't even touch on the interesting choice of having Mae of all characters ask this, but there are so many answers Noa could have given that ultimately tell the audience "yes, I like her."

Yes. Of course. I do. Sure. Maybe. Why wouldn't I? What, no! *looks nervous*

(I could go on all day.)

But no, he only says, very matter of factly, "we were born within a sunset."

So with that baffling response, I thought about it some more, and two things came to mind for what he might have meant:

They were born close together, like family, indicating his feelings are familial. (This jives with the actual vibe between them in the movie, imo.)

It doesn't really matter. They were born within a sunset and that (possibly) has some cultural meaning for their clan, like a sign they were meant to be together. Therefore, a relationship would be expected of them, no matter how they feel.

Now it could be one or both of these scenarios, but with the second I can see that playing into Noa's upcoming hero journey of becoming who he was meant to be. Interestingly, in this trailer we get:

Owen: Noa has to make a choice Proximus: Do you choose a human, over an ape? Owen: And only one will prevail. Proximus: Together, you will die. Noa: No, together--strong. *cues scene of Noa reaching for Mae on horseback and saving her*

From that trailer alone, you get a sense of what his choice will be. But in the movie itself, when Proximus lays this out for Noa, he does not choose. (Yet)

"Do you choose a human over an ape? Your sweet, little Soona or that stinking human?"

I think that's intentional for now, as I think the love triangle is potentially a catalyst for Noa, and Mae and Soona in particular, are meant to represent two different paths (and endings) for him. With this concept in mind, it could mean:

Choosing Soona means following the path that is expected of him, the one laid out since birth, the one he would have gone down had Mae not come into his life. Following the rules, following tradition, upholding his clan's legacy, and choosing for the world to stay as it is with apes dominating humans. (Apes, together, strong)

Choosing Mae means following the path that defies expectations, the new one that was forged because Mae came into his life. Questioning the rules, embracing change over tradition, upholding Caesar's legacy, and choosing for the world to evolve with human/ape coexistence. (Together, strong)

So Noa's answer of "we were born within a sunset" is not a yes or a no, just as Mae's response to "can ape and human live together" is not a yes or a no, because these characters have not chosen this "together strong" path yet. They are questioning everything they've ever known, are changed by this connection to each other, but they're still following their "expected path" at the moment.

Now I might be wildly off base with this theory of course, and I acknowledge that Noa could definitely become who he needs to be with Soona by his side--but I'm looking at this from the two path/two love interest narrative, along with many other factors. But I'll just finish with these quotes from Wes Ball.

"Her [Mae] whole journey is changed by meeting Noa, just as much as his journey has been changed by meeting her."

"These characters [Noa and Mae] have now saved each other, and they have a complicated connection. There is now a history and real feelings between the two, and that’s going to be important moving forward."

"Can apes and humans live together? Can we coexist? So that will be a continued theme throughout future movies, and if there’s any chance for peace between these species, it will probably be between these two characters."

"There's literally a door that opens at the end to hopefully many more possibilities. And the relationship between Mae and Noa and how they've changed each other, you know, is going to be crucial moving forward as they navigate the future together."

[fadingstudentbananacookie]

It's hilarious how Daemon and Rhaenyra's grandchildren carry the Green's legacy in spirit by destroying House Targaryen through internal conflicts decades later.

Aegon IV grows up to be far more extreme and gluttonous than Aegon II could ever be, coupled with a greater degree of cowardice (Aegon II would never). His sister Naerys is a little Helaena/Alicent-coded, but her cousin Daena mirrors Alicent more than I could imagine. And I am precisely talking about book!Alicent here.

Both Alicent and Daena were unapologetic in their pursuit of power after years of abuse and neglect, demanding the realm recognize their sons as kings by birthright. Neither of them gave two fucks about starting a civil war and I call that a slayyy. Go, my queens!

If Daena had been more like Rhaenyra, believe me when I say I wouldn't have liked her as much. It's their defiance that makes both Alicent and Daena more compelling characters.

I don't necessarily think Daena would have liked Alicent, but she would have definitely felt grudging respect and admiration for her courage.

Daeron the Young Dragon is just like Daeron the Daring (both are extremely popular among the nobles and the smallfolk). Both died young and were eternalized. Baelor the Blessed is obsessed with catholicism and guilt to a point that would even scare Alicent and Criston.

Aemon the Dragonknight is essentially a more refined, though not necessarily cooler, version of Aemond One-Eye. Aemon literally stood aside while his sister endured years of sexual and psychological abuse from her brother-husband. Aemond would never have stood by if Aegon II had tried to harm Helaena. His loyalty and protectiveness towards his sister would have driven him to intervene. Their love stories are similar too, with many fans shipping Aemond with Helaena, and Aemon with Naerys.

Elaena is intriguing, but there's not much to say about her or her sister Rhaena.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's grandchildren are worse than the Targtowers in every aspect. Alicent (the Hightowers) and her children de-stabilized House Targaryen during the Dance, but Rhaenyra's grandchildren did so much worse by starting a civil war that lasted for generations to come. Team Black got the realm and power back, and they still fucked up. Again.

Another intriguing aspect is that Alicent and her children had legitimate reasons to resist and fight for Aegon's claim to the throne by feudal right—even if those reasons were fueled by spite and revenge. Alicent endured years of sexual abuse from Viserys, bearing children he barely acknowledged. She was humiliated in court and called "mad" when her son lost his eye, and Rhaenyra's son faced no repercussions—not even a slap on the wrist.

The Targtower children were neglected by their father for years and were practically forgotten when Rhaenyra lived in the Red Keep with her sons in tow. (And if you think Rhaenyra didn’t use her father’s love and rejection of his other children as a political machination, then you’re an absolute idiot.) If usurping her throne was the biggest fuck you they could give Rhaenyra and Viserys, then I fully support it!

Despite their complicated and angry feelings towards each other, the Greens would never act on them to cause significant harm. They understood that they only had each other for support and protection. But Rhaenyra's grandchildren, who were also in a similar situation, harbored outright hatred for each other for no reason! You'd think after the Dance, they would have learned a thing or two about the importance of family, but the gang didn't give a single fuck LMAO.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's grandchildren didn't have significant opposition. House Targaryen still held substantial power and ruled over the other Great Houses. Although they had to be more cautious without having dragons to threaten others, the internal strife could have been avoided if Daena and her sisters had been treated like actual human beings rather than cattle. The lack of care and respect towards them sowed the seeds of war, leading to the internal conflicts that ultimately weakened the dynasty.

The generational cycle of abuse and neglect within House Targaryen is one of the main key reasons why they were driven to extinction in merely three centuries. House Hightower only did so little to show their true color.

Rhaenyra's claim that "The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself," couldn't be more accurate!

[found-family-tournament]

Found Family Tournament Round 2 Part 7 Group 31

Propaganda and further images under the cut

Archive Staff: Jonathan Sims, Sasha James, Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood

Mighty Nein: Caleb Widogast, Nott the Brave/Veth Brennato, Fjord, Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay, Beauregard Lionett, Yasha Nydoorin, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Kingsley Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Archive Staff:

They’re trying their best to understand

Mighty Nein:

Originally, they were only seven, and the Nein part of their group name was a running joke about rolling nines and Caleb's German accent. Then, after Molly's untimely death, the group picked up Caduceus, making seven again. Later, they ally with Essek, who makes eight. And finally, through the power of love and found family, they defeat a villain named Lucien (who inhabits the body Molly had, it's all very complicated), and revive the body to become Kingsley Tealeaf, who looks at Molly as his brother but ultimately makes the group Nine. His revival is literally an act of divine intervention, fueled by the love and loss they all felt after chasing their beloved friend across the continent.

Internally there are other fantastic family bonds. Caleb and Nott/Veth having an incredible bond, Caleb and Beau being the Empire siblings, Molly and Yasha being the circus kids, Beau and Fjord, Cad and Fjord, the chaos crew, Nott and Jester, it goes on and on. They all change each other so significantly, they grow together, and canonically even though they live apart, they all have regular meetups in the tower Caleb created for all of them, with a stained glass window in Molly's honor and rooms dedicated to each member of the group. Even now in the new campaign, they've had cameos that prove years later they still work together and have each other's backs.

This is THEE definition of found family, these assholes were thrown together through circumstance and mostly hated each other to begin with right up until three of their own were kidnapped and then it was ON. And when Molly died, they took his ideals and turned them into a legacy SO POWERFUL they took Essek from a cold, self motivated war criminal to a man willing to die for his friends. They refused to let Beau face her abusive family alone! They helped Yasha heal from her trauma! They took down the whole Cerberus Assembly for what they did to Caleb! They saved the whole dang world together WITH THE POWER OF FUCKING FRIENDSHIP 😭! THEY LOVED MOLLY SO MUCH THAT IT SAVED THE WORLD! THEY NAMED THEMSELVES AFTER A STUPID PUN AND THEN THERE REALLY ENDED UP BEING NINE OF THEM! I WOULD DIE FOR THEM!!!

official art by Ari Orner, fan art by exmakina and tobyjamessharp

[genderkoolaid]

Hello! Non binary here. I'm trying to genuinely understand how saying bi lesbians are a thing are not harmful to the trans, lesbian and bi community. I saw some of the bi lesbians history and this label seems to be something they used to say to identify that they felt mostly attraction to women but could eventually like a man / people that liked men in the past but now go as lesbians. On the first example, Isn't it just bisexuality with a preference to women? and in the second, lesbians with comphet. I understand the need to use those labels in the past, but now it seems harmful to use bi lesbian because lesbians are not attracted men and bisexuals are not lesbians. I have also seen that the use of bi lesbian was a reactionary push to the TERF movement of excluding men from queer spaces as in a way to "purify" women

While someone in either of the groups you described might identify as a bi lesbian, that is certainly not the extent of bi lesbianism.

I think the problem emerges for many people because they are viewing the definitions of queer terms as objective descriptions we discovered. From this perspective, people used to use lesbian in a more expansive sense essentially because they didn't know any better. But I dislike that; our foreparents were not identifying how they did because they didn't know better, their constructions of gender and sexuality are just as valid. And it's important to understand why those definitions formed instead of going “well it's different now so stop it.”

I'm not sure if you are saying you've heard TERFs came up with the term bi lesbian. I wouldn't be surprised, since it's a fairly common rumor. But it's very wrong. To give a very general history, “bi lesbian” came about to describe people who identified with lesbianism– in the sense that they identified with being queer, having some personal relationship with womanhood and loved or desired women– who also were multisexual in some way. “Lesbian” emphasized your love/desire for women as an important part of your identity, and “bisexual” gave nuance to that, creating visibility for bi people within the community. The outrage against bi lesbians came from the same source as the hatred for trans lesbians (of all kinds): radical feminist beliefs in political lesbianism, the insistence that being a lesbian is a political choice to end all personal relationships with men & manhood.

The idea that “lesbians, universally, aren't attracted to men” largely comes out of this shift. You cannot separate the idea that “bi lesbians” don't/shouldn't exist and the legacy of transphobic radical feminism which encourage black-and-white thinking and hostility towards Bad Queers who dared to love or desire men, be men, dress like men, or fuck like men (anything from BDSM to using a strap-on). This divide is artificial and we do not need to just accept it. Bi lesbians are not the source of harm, the ideology that insists on their exclusion is. On top of this, in many physical queer communities bi lesbians & other people with complicated identities are very easily accepted; the idea that it's somehow impossible for these identities to be safely normalized is just queer conservatism.

There are many reasons someone might enjoy the bi lesbian label: personally, I'm multigender and using a single sexuality label doesn't accurately express my sexuality. A lot of times I see people who counter reasons for bi lesbian identity by saying “but that's just being a lesbian/bisexual!” which is another product of this black-and-white thinking. The idea that someone else with a similar experience using a different label than you– or someone with a different experience using the same label– is somehow a threat to your identity is very reminiscent of the way radical feminism relies on patriarchal ideas that everyone in a gender group must self-police that group to ensure homogeneity. Someone with a totally “normal” bisexual experience may still identify as a bi lesbian, or use both bisexual and lesbian in varying contexts, because they feel it accurately expresses their personal sexuality & relationship to queer communities.

There's famously an Alison Bechdel strip about a character being a bi lesbian, but I think my favorite piece of bi lesbian art is this poem by Dajenya. It's a very defiant and wholehearted response to anti-bi-lesbian sentiment and how it harms people within the community far more than bi lesbian identity does. this site is a collection of primary resources on bi lesbianism, including a few interviews from bi lesbians which might be helpful for you.

[verysium]

『01』 到着: arrival

ft. rin itoshi, sae itoshi

summary: the forces of nature abide by a single law: all cataclysms are creators of their own collapse. in the wake of such destruction, rin tumbles his way down to earth, and along the staircase of heaven, a new star is born. cw: mild swearing, childhood nostalgia and growing pains, rin being embarrassing, social anxiety, sae being somewhat parental, sibling dynamics, kamakura and japanese culture, spanish lessons, very dense prose (cus i suck ass at dialogue), star analogies, orange peels and other fruit metaphors, fluff but bittersweet.

word count: 6.4k

series masterlist || next

The first word Rin learns is star.

It is spoon-fed to him in glittering globules of milk fat, dense and pooling around the gums. Stars are what he senses when rough hands slip around his torso, stuffing the nib of a plastic bottle into his mouth. He is only a week old and can't see yet, but he already knows the set of eyes he is staring into. There are tiny pinpoints of blue-green light, reflective and shiny, a mirror to his own.

The world is blurry but somehow Rin finds his own image. His newborn legs are scrunched inside a wad of cotton blankets, poised and ready to strike. Rin doesn't like being confined, but the four walls of the hospital room offer him no reprieve. He cries and bawls and screams to go back. Only the silence answers.

Rin hates this place. The world out here is a different state of mind: too bright, too loud, too much. Anything and everything has been etched into a single frame, time scorched into untouched skin. It is to the point his senses cannot handle any more.

Every morning the shadows of nurses gorge themselves on daylight, waistlines growing by the minute as they enlarge into his field of vision. They pry at the wires of his crib, brushing off invisible dust as they try so hard to make his heartbeat sync with their incessantly beating machines. His body refuses to obey. They should've known the moment he was born that he'd always be one step behind.

Rin wants to screech his head off again. This time he babbles that the milk tastes like car grease, that he'd rather die free than live in pain, but a firm hand stays the bottle between his lips, insisting on its delicacy. Rin blanches. He isn't hungry. He tries to pull away. But his mother's voice cuts through the silence, a warning.

"Sae-chan, be careful with your brother."

The two-year-old grunts, lips twisted in annoyance as he tries the balancing act of feeding a newborn with one arm. His gaze is ancient, too piercing for a child. Rin's fingers crawl up Sae's face, clumsy and blind as they grope for his nose bridge. There are stars in his older brother's eyes, ones Rin cannot reach no matter how hard he tries.

Rin ends up spilling milk on himself, crying as he drools white rivulets down his chin. If Sae could swear, he most definitely would’ve called Rin an ungrateful little shit. But Rin knows it is an honor to be born where he was. He is a legacy to someone else’s dream, both a spare and a second chance at living. He butters himself up in their nasal tongues, machinating his lips in tandem. 

When his brother offers him another drink, his mouth is already open.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It turns out life outside the womb is actually far greater than it was inside. Rin learns that real people walk and talk and grow up to find something called a purpose. He doesn't understand why the adults deem it complicated though. How could something so simple take years to discover? After all, his brother has already figured out his purpose, so why couldn't he?

"Rin-chan, you must find something to do with your life," his grandmother mentions over dinner, smoothing her weathered hands down the locks of his hair. The family is gathered around the table for tea, sitting like a portrait on the zabuton. Rin tries his best to emulate, his three-year-old spine drawn taut with practiced humility.

"Your brother has already paved the way. You can do the same, can’t you Rin-chan?"

Of course he can. Rin's heard these words a thousand times before. Sae isn't called the family's star collector for nothing. His nii-chan has already amassed tens of thousands of these five-pointed shapes, a few of which sit in a glass trophy case Rin isn't allowed to touch. He’s seen this all play out before.

A fortune teller once read their futures, thumbing her way along his brother’s palms as she spilled the very same oracles. Rin still remembers that day clearly: a morning visit to the shrine, the image scattered like water. The torii unfolded like a vermillion tongue, moseying its way down Komachi Street. He had been dressed in his little navy blue hakama, toes tucked politely into his tabi, his round eyes reflecting the world like a fisheye lens. There was much to observe from the hustle and bustle of life. Peculiar squiggly lines danced along the signage of shops. Candied lacquerware displayed themselves behind glass windows. Rin even stopped to point out the goldfish hanging in their crystal bags, giggling when the force of nearby windchimes sent each fish for a tumble. One soba stop and two taiyaki ice creams later, his small feet had grown tired from the hours of excursion, and his mother carried him on her back for the latter half of the trip home. 

It was then that he spotted her. 

An old lady sat in a booth by the wayside, framed by colorful curtains. His father had told him that she could foresee the future with the mere touch of her hand. Sae had gone first, holding out his palm with assured poise, as if he already knew the outcome. Rin wasn’t surprised when he heard the verdict. The old lady claimed Sae was destined to become the world’s greatest star, to bring glory to the nation of the sun. Rin didn’t doubt it if this was true at the time. His brother’s existence was proof enough. Sae’s certainty was a lesson Rin learned before object permanence, before any preconventional stage of development. Nii-chan is always one way and not the other. He is on track to do something important, and nothing can sway him from it. 

That was the first truth Rin learned of this world.

Even now at the family dinner, he doesn't even need to look to know that his brother is sitting with near perfect posture, the precision of still life running through his veins. Sae is an adult before he is a child, a handcrafted figurehead for the Itoshi name. Rin lifts his chin a little higher, his toddler hands raised in firm conviction.

“I’ll follow Nii-chan! Follow him to the end of the world!”

His grandmother nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Rin doesn't say anything else, quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn't understand the words she exchanges with his parents, nor does he try to. Adult talk still isn't his strong suit, especially not when it concerns the future. But his mother's eyes shine wet and proud, and his father chuckles more than usual. Rin decides his purpose right then and there.

He wants to be a star too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day after starting kindergarten, Rin shows off his first masterpiece, cradling two sheets of rice paper as he runs up to the front door. By the time the fusuma slides open, he has already uncrumpled his work, dramatically revealing a bold shock of color. It appeared to be some sort of assemblage, painstakingly inked in blue crayon and pieced together with painter's tape.

"That's a pentagon, Rin."

"No, it’s a star! See? 1…2…3…4…5 points! Star!"

Sae isn't amused. Rin does not know why. His brother’s eyes are hardened slats of light, the still water of an abandoned lake. There are no mouths to swallow the light, no twinkling ripples at the surface, not even the gasps of glimmering excitement. There is only the mirrored slate of the sky: one shade of blue bleeding into the next. Rin feels his stomach plummet into its depths. This isn’t the soft look of pride he wanted to see. Not in the slightest. 

At first he thinks about crying, his bottom lip already curled with the onslaught of a pathetic sob. But spite unfurls in his lungs, so instead he turns his nose up with huff, trying to seem unaffected. He would be very proud of his star. And it most certainly was not called a pentagon or whatever stupid name Sae learned in his stupid math class. But apparently his older brother always had something else to say.

"Just come here and erase it. I'll show you how to make a proper star."

"But I don't want to! It's my star. It's perfect!"

Rin can hardly utter another word before Sae's glare nearly freezes the living daylights out of him. Nii-chan is scary, especially when angry. He doesn't even have a choice when he sits down at the chabudai, pouting in reluctance. Sae works out his magic on paper, crafting ley lines within the grain of paper. Rin does his best to follow, licking his lips as he guides his crayon through the dotted lines. It gets increasingly difficult though when Sae's hand echoes warmly around his own, gentle but firm in its direction. Rin tries to avoid his brother's eyes, but Sae's kindness is as disarming as his gaze. Had Nii-chan always had that crease between his eyebrows? The slight upturn of his lips when he bit his tongue in concentration?

Rin tries to trace the lines, but he ends up tracing Sae's face instead. His focus isn't even on the paper when he scribbles out a mess of incomplete pentagons, some geometric concatenation he cannot translate into real-time. Sae would have pinched his cheek, scolding him in disappointment.

Sae never did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next time Rin traces a pentagon, it is on the surface of a black-and-white ball, shot like a meteorite through a football goal. His brother becomes a comet, light on his feet as he thunders down the field, weaving seamlessly between defenders. Rin can only stand on the sidelines, drowned out in his second-hand hoodie, face smushed up against the fence as he tries to get a good view. The team's been at it for hours, and Rin's pretty sure he now has the diamond imprint of chain links burnt into his cheeks.

"Somebody stop him!"

"Get after him!"

"Mark Sae Itoshi!"

There will always be someone up to the challenge of his brother's prowess, but no one ever comes close to toppling him. Rin doesn't think Sae would ever miss a single step, not when he's so far ahead. His brother is strong and calculated, absolutely unwavering in his ascent to the top. The only way Sae Itoshi could ever fall is if he buckled under his own weight, caving into himself.

Rin's eyes follow the reporters as they trail after Sae, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. They were no better than a pack of bloodhounds, desperate for a small taste of his brother's victory. How dare they? His Nii-chan outshined everyone at everything. Rin wasn't the smartest boy, but even he knew that a star could never be caught. They didn't even belong on Earth in the first place.

"Let's go, Rin."

Rin doesn't complain when his brother calls him to return home, oblivious to the media's chagrin. Like Sae, Rin is utterly indifferent to their plight, side-stepping one of the reporters who dry-heaves on his shoes in exhaustion. It was definitely their fault for failing to outrun both an eight-year-old child and his kid brother, let alone try to feast on their glittering remains. If they couldn't catch a star, they ought to eat the dust left behind. After all, that was how the world worked according to Nii-chan.

Only the best could succeed. All the rest would implode with the universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It is the summer before his tenth birthday when Rin takes back every single one of those words. He is that reporter now, completely humiliated and exhausted as he collapses on the sidelines. The afternoon workout had just entirely rearranged his guts, so much so that he's foaming at the mouth, the remnants of his hasty breakfast speckled all over his cleats.

Out of every star in existence, the sun has to be the worst one. A pool of sweat trickles down his back, melting into a sticky discomfort along his nape. It’s too far up his jersey for him to do anything about, and he might just die from the sweltering heat.

Perhaps it was true that sports stars had to suffer in order to burn bright, but Rin would never wish this fate upon anybody. Sae is shouting at him from somewhere outside his periphery, insisting that the sun has never stopped revolving, that Rin has to never stop practicing if he ever plans on keeping up. But at this point, he could care less about a goddamn metaphor, let alone rub two brain cells together to interpret it.

"That shot was shoddy, Rin. Redo it."

"But it's so hot, I can't—”

"It's not hot. It's lukewarm. Redo it."

Sometimes Rin regrets ever thrusting himself into the orbit of his brother’s football dream. Playing on the world stage sounded so much easier in his head back then, but now it might as well have been an impossible fantasy. He most definitely wasn’t cut out for this line of work because his legs feel like shit, his arms feel like shit, and his whole body can’t even breathe under the thick, grimy layer of sweat. Blinking his eyes against the burning salt, Rin curses to himself. He should’ve taken that energy drink from earlier. At least the caffeine would have kept him sane. Sae snaps Rin out of his reverie, his thin voice seeping into Rin’s bones. There’s something softer in his tone this time.

“Suck it up and redo it. I’ll buy you ice cream after practice.”

There is silence. Rin stands back up, wiping his forehead as he stares his brother dead in the eye. The field has never been larger, and the goal has never been closer. And just like that, he is off, powering down the turf.

Under the supermassive gravity of his brother's ambitions, Rin becomes a supernova, his body charged with enough energy to last through entire lifetimes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In the oppressive sunlight, Sae's cold stare becomes a welcome sight. Augusts in Kamakura are the products of heat waves, the sun so scorching Rin can see a visible mirage above the asphalt. The heat spares no one, and Rin feels his cargo pants stick to the crease of his thighs. Even Sae’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, unusually slick behind the ears. They had just met Sae’s agent that morning, taking the Yokosuka line back from Tokyo. Sae had even left early, planning to evade the weekend’s tourists. But neither of them ever anticipated the harshness of the afternoon heat. After nearly an hour of searching, their only refuge was this 7-Eleven, some tiny microcosm practically stowed away between two utility poles.

The oba-chan at the konbini greets them with a seasoned smile, chirping with polite bubbliness as she rings up Sae’s Garigari-kun popsicles, a total of 70 yen for the original soda flavor. Rin waits demurely in a corner, eyes drawn to his brother’s silhouette. Some oji-san sits himself down nearby, fanning himself with a newspaper as he twirls a toothpick between his gums.

“Trying to avoid the heat, eh? You and your brother come here often?”

The man looks middle-aged, crowned with an artificial toupée and a cracked tooth. His eyes dart between Rin and Sae, a knowing smile plastered on his lips. 

“Nii-chan and I just found this place. We don’t come here a lot.”

“Ah. Is that so? You seem awfully young to be shopping without parents. What’s your name?”

Rin doesn’t want to answer. He hates this man already, even more so his strangeness. There’s a disarming nature to his beady eyes, like he knows something Rin doesn’t. Rin looks down at the floor, his sneakers toeing a shy line across the linoleum tiles. 

“R-rin.”

“Rin-kun, eh? You must look up to your Nii-chan a lot, huh? Your gaze hasn’t left him since.”

Rin feels his throat close up, cheeks flushing with heat of embarrassment. On second thought, he hates everything about this oji-san now, even down to his obnoxious friendliness. The old man winks, bending down in a conspiratorial whisper. Rin wrinkles his nose at the stale smell of beer, feeling embarrassed for even bothering to converse. This man was clearly drunk out of his mind, and Rin secretly hopes no one else is watching him. But unfortunately, the whispers are loud enough to travel across the entire convenience store, right into Sae’s ears.

“Oh-ho? Are you blushing?”

Rin vehemently shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Rin-kun. Your secret is safe for me. You must be your brother’s little shadow, right?” The man pumps his fist out, his voice distorted in a childish imitation. “Nii-chan's number one supporter!”

Rin’s hands ball into fists at the oji-san’s teasing, his ears red to their tips. Sae is looking at him from over the cash register now, a confused look etched onto his face. Rin clenches his teeth in annoyance. Stripped bare of all defenses, he is now analyzed for what he is. Was his admiration that obvious? Did Sae know about his feelings? He didn’t want to be taken for some stupid, awestruck fool. The old man’s question is barely answered before Rin makes a break for it, the bell on the door ringing with his sudden departure.

The road outside swirls in holographic patterns, a dizzying blend of feet and socks and concrete. Rin has to take a moment to steady himself before Sae comes up behind him, armed with a plastic bag of wrappers and blue ice between his teeth. Rin licks his popsicle with caution, burning away his shame as his tongue freeze dries itself to the candied surface. Sae crunches his ice cream in two bites, an amused lilt to his voice.

“What was that back there?”

“N-nothing! I didn’t know him.”

“You’re too shy to talk to strangers?”

“N-no…H-he was just talking to himself.”

Sae gives Rin a weird look, but he doesn’t question further. Instead, his hand reaches down to slap Rin on the back of the head, ruffling the hair there until it somehow resembles a bird’s nest.

“Next time someone asks you something, just answer. Stop acting like a damn coward.”

Rin’s entire face burns with humiliation at that comment. He wishes the ground could just open up and swallow him whole. The last thing he wants to be is the laughingstock of his brother’s dry humor, but the fact that Sae rarely even cracks a joke makes this entire situation much worse. Instead of replying, Rin follows what he does best and rapidly changes the subject. His voice trembles as he stares at his popsicle handle, noting the hiragana carved into plywood. Atari.

“Ah, look. I won a prize.”

Sae’s eyes widen momentarily, pausing in his step as he looks down to check his own stick. Less than a minute later, he grimaces, tossing it away.

“Tch, don’t waste your luck on something so meaningless.”

Rin knows what Sae means. Only becoming the best matters, and with the sparse amount of luck to go around, he might as well spend it on a real victory. The Itoshis can’t afford loss, not that they’d ever know what it was. A foreign emotion flickers through Sae’s eyes, something akin to uncertainty. Rin brushes it off as a trick of the light.

The trek back home is tinged with a golden hue, the sun milder as it cascades rays down both their faces. Sae's appearance has always been unsettling, even in the mellow glow of summer. Rin recalls his mother used to say that Sae inherited all the sharpness in the family. His mother was definitely right. Sae’s nose is too straight, the slant of his brows too unnatural. If Rin took a ruler to his face, every measurement would come back scientifically accurate. Nothing about Sae is soft. Nothing about him should be comforting. But when his brother looks at him, Rin feels someone’s breath brush across his forehead, the skin still warm from the imprint of their lips.

He grips Sae’s hand tighter, knuckles looped between calloused digits. They tread silently, all thoughts of victory forgotten, the coastal breeze whispering their names into air. Rin can’t take his eyes off his brother, and, despite his lack of situational awareness, Sae notices it too.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing… It’s just… Back at the store… If it were you, you’d never be afraid to speak up, right?”

“Of course. There’s nothing that I fear.”

Sae’s tone is stiff when he says this, his face tilted towards the horizon. Rin almost misses the slight waver in his voice. His brother does everything to keep his word. At least that much holds true. Rin silently wishes that too would never change.

Sae always looks forward, always stares towards the skyline, always plans for the future. Not once has Rin seen his older brother look fully back at him, let alone pivot toward the direction he once came from. One side of Sae’s face is always hidden, not too dissimilar to the far side of the moon. His Nii-chan might as well be some celestial body, cast under the penumbra of his own eclipse. No one could ever know him in his entirety.

Sae’s eyes must be lonely, Rin ponders. They’re trapped on opposite ends of his face, two stars that could align but never cross. He swears to always remember the constellations in his brother’s eyes.

He'd follow them wherever they took him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sae has his eyes set on Spain: a land of gold, guts, and glory. The streets are somehow more burnt than its people, and the nation itself flickers with twisting tongues. It is also the only place where Rin cannot follow, and he is inconsolable.

Sae hadn’t even given a week’s notice before he broke the news on a Sunday, stating his plans factually over a family dinner. Rin nearly spit out his ochazuke right then and there, choking pitifully on his tea-steeped rice grains. Who in their right mind would willingly travel to a country that sees the sun for nearly three thousand hours a year? Perhaps Sae was immune to all natural phenomena, but Rin would rather die than train in that hellish heat. And most importantly, what was with the sudden announcement? Did his brother not even care about the people he was leaving behind?

He thought about it hard during dinner and even harder when Sae blow-dried his hair that night. They had both stepped out from the tub at the same time, arguing after their shared bath. Rin complained his brother turned the water temperature up too high every time, and Sae pointed out he was dripping water everywhere, the suds still stuck deep in his scalp. Their fingers had been at each other’s hair, clawing and tugging until their mother finally intervened, wrapping Rin up in the family towel as she knelt down to dry him. Rin stood there, an angry flush on his cheeks and his features pulled into a petulant sulk as he observed Sae clean himself with elegant precision, a quiet look on his face. Life at ten and a half was simply unfair. Rin couldn’t wait until he was his brother’s age. Apparently being a teenager meant Nii-chan could have his own towel, a custom gift embroidered with seagulls on the hem. Nii-chan could dry himself without any help from others, no longer needing his mother’s guidance. He could even leave the house if he truly wanted, and no one would come after him. Rin’s scowl deepens, glowering at Sae as his mother forces his little arms up, tugging the pyjamas over his head. In another life, he would’ve admitted that he was envious of Sae’s independence, the sheer effortless grace with which he carried himself. But Rin was too prideful to do that. A confession of his own failures was equivalent to suicide in his book.

The best he can do is bite his tongue, forcing back the angry vitriol that would have otherwise spilled from his lips. His brother stands on a stool behind him, blow-dryer in hand as he ruffles through Rin’s tresses, the nozzle spewing warm air across his forehead. Sae’s fingers are rough and heavy, riddled with calluses underneath, likely from the months of weightlifting and grip training. But as solid as they are, they are also nimble, delicate as bird wings as they gently comb through strands of hair. The hot air massages around his temples, and Rin feels the tender brush of something against his nape. He cannot tell if it was the blow-dryer or the warmth of Sae’s body behind him. 

In the end, he decides he does not want to know.

By now, the water droplets have cleared from his skin, his locks rusted from a dark olive to a coarse black. Sae turns the blow-dryer to his own head, tousling his hair as he shakes out the excess moisture. Rin watches silently through the mirror, squeezing a fine line of mint paste down the center of his toothbrush. He chews on the plastic bristles as he contemplates, moving his arm back and forth in a repetitive scrubbing motion. Sae had inherited their mother’s hair and their father’s countenance, his visage a perfect combination of both genetic features. His obaa-san once remarked that the kami had accidentally spilled wine on Sae’s birthday, anointing his head in a rich maroon. In Japan, red is the color of all things joyous, a shade Rin identifies with the uchikake at weddings and the rope decorations his parents pin onto doors for good luck. But to be associated with joy, Rin finds that fact highly ironic. He has never seen Sae express any semblance of happiness before, except maybe the occasional grimace he tries to pass off as a smile. 

Still, the connotation of their contrasting hair colors does little to ease the ache in his tiny chest. If Sae is the blood of an early sunrise, then Rin is the death before night. Black is not a marriage but a funeral, the makings of an era filled with fear, violence, and misfortune. In a way, Rin is the end to Sae’s beginning, both the antithesis and the complement.

A soft touch against his chin interrupts his thoughts, and Rin looks up just in time to see Sae retracting his hand, wiping the excess toothpaste off Rin’s chin. And in that moment, he wants to scream. How dare Sae try to leave him? To act like everything was alright. He said the end was another beginning when really it was just the end. There wasn’t any coming back from it. Sae would disappear off to Spain, and he would never come back. At least the version of Sae he was seeing now. 

In the dim lights, Rin’s hair is darker than ever, the inky tendrils plastered around his ears like a vacuum devoid of light. He brings a death omen, a curse wherever he goes. In between the liminal space of bathroom mirror and tile, he divorces memory from mind, separating the flesh until it can last no longer. He’ll kill this memory of his brother if he has to, suffocating it in the most gruesome of ways. He doesn’t want to admit this might be the last time he’ll ever see Sae. 

And most importantly, he doesn’t want to admit that he just might miss him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Rin resolved to give Sae the silent treatment after that night, avoiding him throughout the house and acting like he was repelled by some nameless force. But his plans sadly never seem to work. The more he turns away, the more he is reeled back in, as if cast on some invisible fishing line. Now he’s here in Sae's bedroom, forty-eight hours before D-day, trying to mouth out words that aren't his own. 

His brother has somehow convinced him to adopt a new language, something about how he needs to be bilingual to play in different countries. Rin didn’t understand most of it before he complied, letting himself be dragged onto his brother’s bedspread. His English flashcards sit opposite to Sae’s Spanish ones as he crosses his legs, mouthing the shapes on his brother’s lips.

Manzana. Banana. Naranja.

Translation: I am undoing everything that has ever made me whole. 

In the middle of their lesson, Sae hands his brother said fruit, as if to accentuate his point. He peels the orange in a perfect spiral, thumb under the calyx as the spongy white fiber separates from ochre flesh, the pulp inlaid like jewels beneath skin. He cracks the segments hexagonally and tosses Rin the larger half.

“Naranja.”

“Naranja.” Rin repeats, curling his tongue around the foreign vowels. He catches the fruit with ease, shoving the flesh into his mouth until juice pools between teeth and his mouth is bursting with flavor. The language trickles down his throat, settling into the hollow of his larynx.

Naranja.

He looks down at his own orange, a half-imitation at best. His fingers are still stuck inside the skin, the liquid squirting into his right eye. It is sour, acrid even. The flesh has gone bad, wrinkled like soft cherries. A tangerine blooms saffron yellow beneath his nails, zest building up under the cuticle. He makes a mental note to wash his hands later.

Mi media naranja.

Unlearning, Rin decides, is a very difficult process. It makes him feel like a child again, an estrangement from his old self. Sometimes two halves aren’t enough to make him whole, and other times it is a section too much. There are many things in this world that elude his grasp. One day perhaps he will know them all. In another life, he would have been able to tell the difference between an apple and an orange, to draw the line between his half and Sae’s half. But for now, he is still discovering, still plucking and choosing, still floundering in a body he has come to hate. Rin picks up another flashcard, right next to the yellow one labeled starfruit, named estrella for each of its five points.

“What’s this one?”

“Desastre. Spanish for disaster.” 

"Dis…as…star?"

"It's disaster. You have to enunciate the r."

"Dis…as…ster? What the hell even is that? Another star?"

Sae deadpans, and Rin mentally braces himself for another harsh remark, probably a brutally honest insult about his own stupidity. But this conversation has long evolved past fruits and colors and my half and your half. His brother’s eyes soften with shadows, as if bruised by something far deeper. A contusion forms beneath the surface, purpled and pained. Rin’s mind fills with confusion when Sae suddenly stares out the curtains again, his gaze strangely wistful. The room is so quiet he almost misses Sae’s answer.

"Yeah...it's a star.”

Disaster is a bad star.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day before Sae leaves, Rin wishes on a bad star. He wakes up at an unlucky hour of dawn, slinking past a sleeping town as he goes to find his brother on the embankment near the sea. The streets bend around this corner of the peninsula, gaping like a mouth, lips pried apart at the seams. Located between a rock and a hard place, the coast of Koshigoe Beach oscillates between two types of constant turmoil, battling the erosion of natural forces from the east while facing the gentrification of construction in the west. During early mornings, the tide is sometimes low enough to expose the rocks up to the seawall, the desiccated seaweed forming fishing nets along its edge. Occasionally, the imprints of a stranger's footsteps leave behind small pockets of water, each one a home to an assorted array of abalone and oyster shells. Rin remembers the family vacations he spent here, the storm-cloaked skies. He had been so excited to go clamming after watching every episode of Chibi Maruko-Chan. In his red bucket hat and plastic shovel, he raced to the water’s edge, his little cheeks puffed out in exertion. He had anticipated sunny weather and clear skies, the glitter of rainbow sea glass, maybe even the golden sands he had seen in many of Sae’s travel brochures. But his first impression had been one of utter disappointment. 

The sand was a dull, drab grey: a single expanse of color that stretched on forever across the horizon. There were no clouds, only the stinging brittle of salt stuck inside his lungs and nestled between his toes. And to make matters worse, there weren’t even any clams in the first place, no sparkling bits of the golden treasure he had been so desperate to bring home. He felt his spirits dampen with ocean spray, his little feet coming to a sudden halt as he stared crestfallen at the waters.

Rin learned two major lessons that day. One, Maruko-chan was a big fat liar. And two, he should never believe anything that he sees on screen. Unfortunately, his folly cost him a hefty price: one tantrum on the car ride home and zero pretty seashells to add to his collection. Looking back on it now, Rin feels a strange sense of comfort in his disillusionment. In all four directions, his home is still the same greyish wash of color, unchanging as the sea and as unforgiving as its waters. At least that is something he can rely on. Nowadays, the constants in his life can be counted on a single hand, and the number of childhood remnants dwindles down to even fewer. 

Still, he can recall one memory clearer than the rest.

While Rin had been busy lamenting the lack of clams, Sae had tugged him by the back of his shirt, pulling him to the wayside as he stuck his fingers into the earth. Obviously, Rin was too caught up in his misery to notice, but his sniffles soon died down when he saw the faintest of bubbles lurk beneath the sandy surface. Sae taught him how to dig, how to plant feet into the ground, how to scavenge for survival. And Rin followed without question.

Soon, a cast of translucent crabs spilled forth from the pits, scuttling in massive red tides. Rin scooped some out with bare hands, sectioning them into segments: the ruby shells of a pomegranate, dividing and dividing again. He held a hermit up to the light, a look of gleeful amazement on his features. Was it their shells that determined their shape or the tender bodies inside them? Rin could never tell. All he knew was that these crabs were a different sort of treasure, ones that he cradled gently with bare hands and shielded from the foraging gulls. They were creatures meant to be loved.

The waves now break across concrete fortifications, crashing upon cubic breakwaters. By the time Rin reaches the paved promenade near the shores, Sae is already there, feet drowned in the freezing Pacific, the shirasu swimming between his toes. He doesn’t even turn when the sand crunches with footsteps, and Rin silently curses his brother’s superior senses. 

“I thought I told you not to come, Rin.”

“I know....But I still wanted to.”

In Rin’s mind, it doesn’t matter if Sae didn’t want him to be there. It doesn’t matter that he should’ve never come. He’d always keep chasing this dream if it meant he could stay. In fact, any ill omen would be better than this sinking pit in his stomach, this feeling that something was about to change forever.

The twinkles of light in the sky ripple across the sea, and Rin can’t help but see the view reflected in his brother’s visage. Sae’s eyes are like the ports of Sagami Bay, hardened with the carapace of cold comfort. Absence, Rin believes, would be his brother’s ultimate paradox. Sae could do everything and nothing all at once, and he would still be both the empty hole and the overflowing home. If eyes could be waves and faces could be stars, Sae would be the coldest, but he would also burn the brightest. Right now Rin just wants some of that warmth.

“So...you’re really leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m going ahead of you now. You better catch up.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best to become scouted like you.”

“Right. And then onto the world. The two of us will become the best there is.”

A silence hangs between them, loose as a thread. The wind whistles across the boardwalk, stirring up small spirals of volcanic sand. Sae notices Rin’s contemplative expression, following his gaze until he finds the moon still in the sky, lit up by the fading light of Polaris. Rin prays silently, knees tucked into his chest as he clasps his hands tightly together. His soft whispers are frequently interspersed by distant murmurs of the sea.

Please let Nii-chan be safe. Please don’t let him forget me.

The sunrise is about to start, one more hour until the day fully begins. Sae has to put an end to this, or else he'll never leave.

“Stop praying, Rin. They’re just stars. They'll die before your wish can come true.”

Rin peeks an eye open, unfurling from his tucked position. He looks to the stars then back at Sae, a familiar prickling in his eyes. Sae doesn’t even need to check to know that he’s crying.

“I just...” Rin’s voice wavers, “I think I’lll miss you, Nii-chan. At least send a message home?”

“Maybe. When I have the time.”

“Oh...okay.” Rin looks down awkwardly, staring at his feet before perking up again, “Do you think our dream can be achieved in a few years? I’ll come visit you in Spain! Maybe we’ll even play for Royale together.”

“You better. Don’t slack off just because I’m not here.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Rin had never been particularly good at farewells, let alone his first one. His voice is watery now, as if liquid and unable to be contained.

“Hey...Sae?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think we’ll make it big?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the length of it too long for Sae’s liking. For once, certainty does not come to him as easily. But Rin already knows there is a fundamental difference to the depths of his brother’s greed. Sae’s eyes harden into flints, his voice crashing across the sandy beaches, unrelenting in its harshness but still shapelessly soft.

“We have to.”

Rin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Neither of them do. If killing himself meant living forever, then Sae Itoshi would have died a long time ago. 

He would have died and become a star.

author's note: to whoever made it down here, thank you for reading the words i’ve curated at the cost of my sleep schedule. this chapter was supposed to be a purely self-indulgent one-shot about rin’s character, but it quickly devolved into a multi-chapter fic (oops.) majority of the content is pulled from the official manga, the spin-off novel translations, and occasionally my own personal interpretation. the extended star metaphor is inspired by @hanyjar (my lovely moot) and franny choi's poetry in the atlantic. while the plot follows the original canon chronologically, you can theoretically read the scenes in any order, and the vignettes are meant to vacillate between different scenes and interactions. regardless, rin seeks the same path of self-destruction throughout all scenarios, even if it means losing himself. (atp he needs to go to therapy, and i need to go touch grass.) anyways, thank you for reading, and it genuinely means a lot to see people interact with my works!

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[mspaesthetic]

Tidbit: The "Threshold" Effect of Desaturated Objects Due to Increased Contrast

If you've ever asked how to replicate an effect like this...

...it's likely someone told you to apply the threshold filter, which converts any light colors to pure white, and any dark colors to pure black. And it's perfectly fine to do so. It's simple, straightforward, efficient. But I take issue with the assertion that it's definitively the only conceivable way Hussie did it when the evidence points to the contrary. Scrutinize the following examples under a microscope:

Did you see it? The singular detail that distinguishes these images from ones that have been thresholded? Congratulations if you noticed that these contain not only black and white pixels, but GRAY pixels as well! A threshold filter's conversion is binary; a pixel is either black, or it is white. No in-between. The presence of these gray values rules out its use, then.

One thing is clear, at least: these images are black and white in the traditional sense of the term, i.e. "grayscale", even if it's in drastic form. They've been stripped of any color, hue, chroma. Completely desaturated, in other words.

So from this observation, we can reason that they were converted to be grayscale at some point in the process of editing.

Of course, this is still lacking in the pure black and pure white departments. If only there was a way to adjust the intensity levels and push them both to their extremes... oh wait, THERE IS! Using the Levels adjustment tool!

Pushing the black input levels slider to the right makes all dark colors turn darker, and conversely, pushing the white input levels slider to the left makes any light colors turn lighter. This is a great way of increasing the contrast and adjusting the brightness. Speaking of which, the Brightness/Contrast adjustment tool in Photoshop with "Use Legacy" enabled also accomplishes a nearly identical effect.

This timelapse demonstrates how the Brightness/Contrast adjustment is basically equivalent to using the Levels one when used this way

I say nearly identical because raising the contrast all the way to 100% with Brightness/Contrast makes it actually identical with the Threshold adjustment tool. The black and white input levels sliders can't fully join in the middle because of the gray input level slider occupying the space, hence why there are some stray gray pixels even when pushing them to their limits.

Well, there could be several reasons explaining why there could be gray pixels other than the contrast not being high enough to clip them, but I'll spare you another needlessly complicated and overly technical rambling on how I can tell it's most definitely the Levels adjustment tool always.

This post is getting a little long, so I'll stop here and elaborate a little more on pertinent things under the read more link, like semi-opaque pixels, scaling down, sharpening, and the gamma slider. Also here's the potted plant PSD if you wanna check it out I guess.

ADDENDUM

Semi-opaque pixels

When separating objects from a background, it's usually easiest to do so with a magic wand selection tool, which selects regions of similar colors. There's an option to make the selection anti-aliased, smoothing the edges of whatever you've cropped. Unchecking it will make the pixels hard and jagged. The wine bottle and picnic basket are a good example of each, respectively.

If you've already cropped out something with anti-aliasing enabled, there's still a way to sharpen the edges after the fact. Duplicating the layer multiple times will increase the semi-transparent pixels' opacity. Do it enough times and they'll eventually become completely opaque. An analogy would be stacking multiple panes of tinted glass on top of each other. Stack enough of them and you wouldn't be able to see through anymore.

These semi-opaque black pixels would appear gray on a white background, and so would semi-opaque white pixels on a black one. That's the reason for the gray pixels around the edges on some of these examples.

Scaling down/Sharpening

Suppose you've already gone ahead and went through the whole rigamarole of editing the object to be black and white before deciding firmly on the size of it in your composition, and now you think it could be a little smaller. You could always resize it and scale it down, but with the interpolation method set to none/nearest-neighbor, it's going to look kind of shit, and with it set to something else like bilinear or bicubic, the anti-aliasing is going to make it a bit blurry (introducing these gray values). You could increase the contrast again, or you could use the Sharpen filter to do it.

Not to suggest that this particular example was scaled down after editing, it's just the one that looks closest to it since I'm too lazy to make one.

Sharpening repeatedly will bump up the contrast, plus Photoshop's Sharpen filter has the added benefit of hardening any semi-opaque pixels as well, making the edges sharper.

GIMP's Sharpen filter doesn't do that latter part, unfortunately, but if the layer has an opaque white background, it'll do the same.

Gamma slider

This effect might not be so obvious, but really take a good look at these board games:

Actually, maybe this Problem Sleuth bonus panel shows what I mean better:

The dark values are cranked up very high, and so are the light values a bit, but there's an inordinate amount of midrange values that are on the lighter side than what would be normal. That's because of the midtones input levels slider, the gray slider, the gamma slider, whatever.

I'm toot tired to explain any more than that, so make of that what you will. The end.

[lunamond]

"And yet you toil still in service to men. Your father, your husband, your son. You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?"

Rhaenys Targaryen, Ep 9

There are a lot of moments in Hotd that are quite dumb. But this is probably one of my most hated quotes in the whole show.

What does Rhaenys even mean by this?

"You toil in service of men"???

Ehm, Rhaenys?? That's literally all you've been doing this whole season?!

There could definitely have been a version of Rhaenys (based on the book) who is ambitious and focused on her own power, but that is absolutely not show!Rhaenys. Throughout the show, Rhaenys continuously helps Corlys to advance his various schemes to build his legacy.

Not her or even their legacy, no, it's all about HIS legacy.

She is even willing to sacrifice her children for this purpose (marrying Laena to Viserys, and Laenor to Rhaenyra). And while she is critical of this both times, she still goes along with her husband’s demands.

Her behaviour perfectly lines up with what Alicent says:

“We do not rule, but we may guide the men that do.”

And then the most offensive parts:

"You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison."

Ok? What should Alicent do then? Just casually dismantle the entire system of patriarchy?

This line is just utterly baffling to me. It would be one thing if this moment revealed a deep internal bias on Rhaenys' part, but based on the way this entire scene is framed and discussed by the fandom, it seems to be meant as a badass moment in which Rhaenys really calls out Alicent.

But, if we take this prison metaphor a bit further:

If Westerosi patriarchy is the prison and Alicent crowning her son and exerting power only through her influence over him is merely a window, then what does that mean for every Targaryen dragonriding princess or queen that have come before her?

What have they done to dismantle this prison?

I'm personally confused about what exactly Rhaenys is calling Alicent out for? Is she criticising Alicent for not elevating other women? Is she criticising her for not breaking herself out and seizing power?

If it is the former, then Rhaenys is being quite hypocritical, considering that Rhaenyra, in the previous episode, just convinced her to give Driftmark to Lucerys instead of Baela.

Rhaenys herself has scarcely done anything to liberate herself, her daughter or her granddaughter.

If it is the latter, then this is quite tone deaf, considering Rhaenys is part of the ruling dynasty, almost became ruling queen, and in her big show of defiance is literally breaking through the ground massacring hundreds on a dragon.

Rhaenys calling out another woman who has none of these things for not breaking free of these constraints while she herself couldn’t even manage it is quite frankly dumb as hell.

"Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?"

This last sentence is probably the dumbest part of this entire quote.

I'm quite honestly baffled by what Rhaenys is even supposed to mean with this. Is she asking if Alicent ever considered ruling through her husband/son? Then, yeah, that's literally what she is trying to do.

But if Rhaenys is asking if Alicent imagined herself literally sitting the throne in her own right.

Like, no? Alicent is only a consort?! Should she do a coup? Overthrow the Targaryen dynasty?

Ultimately, this scene is just really indicative of Hotd's greatest flaw. The writers are aware that the driving source of conflict in both Alicent and Rhaenyra's lifes is the misogyny they experience, but not enough to comprehend this struggle in a nuanced and complicated way.

So instead, they end up putting their female characters in anti female oppression and pro oppression categories.

Either they're rebellious punk rock and not like other girls, or they are a prudish trade wife and are part of women for trump. Either they're Team Black or Team Green.

This is just super disappointing because for one feudal patriarchy doesn't work like that, but it also takes away all sympathy from the women who don't have the ability for open defiance out.

In the end, the show is more concerned with giving the "good" women, badass girlboss moments, showing how they defy the system.

[wilwheaton]

These were definitely dark times for you, but are you able to take pride when you see comments like these knowing you helped bring it to life?

I've spoken about this a LOT in the last few months, while I've been promoting my book. Short version is that I'm incredibly grateful to have had the experience, and for that performance to be part of my legacy. It's complicated, but it's okay.

It's hard to watch, because 36 years later, after escaping my abusers, Just about all I can see and remember the pain, the sadness, the insecurity, the overwhelming certainty that I was worthless, all because of the way my dad treated me and my mom used me.

But I'm so grateful that it opened the door to Star Trek, which opened the door to the life I have now, the life I love. Actors can go their entire careers (most do) without a single movie like Stand By Me on their resume. Not only did I get to be part of something that means so much to so many people, I've had the privilege of standing on its shoulders ever since (once I stopped trying to get out of its shadow).

I'm still friends with Jerry. I just saw him on my birthday, as a matter of fact. Rob goes out of his way to always make sure I know how proud of me he is, and how much the movie means to him.

But here's the thing that's probably most valuable: I was Gordie. I was the invisible kid. I was the scapegoat. My brother was the one our dad loved, and our dad didn't try to hide it. Neither of my parents gave a shit about me as a person, and my mother only cared about what she could use me to get for herself. I didn't believe in myself. I thought I was no good. I believed in my heart that I was worthless.

For decades, people lauded me for being a great actor in that movie. The truth is, I was just existing as the person I was, translating my lived experiences and feelings into Gordie's experiences and feelings. And I did that with the guidance and help and gentle support of Rob Reiner.

To this day, my parents lie about me and my life. They lie about his abuse, they lie about her manipulation. They gaslight me about things I lived through.

And I can point to Stand By Me, fifty feet wide and towering over the seats in the theatre, and show the world the child they hurt and used, because it's captured on film for the world to see.

Like, I'm a fine actor. I can get it done. I'm absolutely above average. But I'm not that good. I'm not good enough to create that stuff. I was just in an environment where it was safe to feel it and express it for the very first time.

Stand By Me is a wonderful movie that means more than I can imagine to at least one generation all over the world. Even though I cannot ignore the pain in my eyes, or forget the uncomfortable way I felt in my own skin, I'm so grateful to have been part of it, and honored that so many other people who worked on it feel the same way.

[canmom]

watched a 30 minute video about hajime isayama and his development as a mangaka and a person. it talked a great deal about his self esteem and inferiority complex and anxiety, which i agree are all relevant to his work, knowing it's a lonely (maybe autistic? he kinda has the vibe) guy in his 20s trying to navigate a first serialisation explains a lot. but not a single word about his political ideology, and like. surely someone has asked him about it? at some point?

there was a period he was getting death threats from Korean readers after it came out that a positively portrayed AoT character was modeled after a certain Japanese general who participated in the occupation, it's not like it's a niche subject. and more generally there are points where AoT comes across almost as a roman à clef for the Japanese far right, the Marley arc onwards throws out all this Holocaust imagery, it's a story full of military coups and people getting radicalised into paramilitaries and geopolitical tensions and genocides and the bloody legacy of nation building, generally handled with about the subtlety of a train. he definitely was a nationalist at one point, and the general consensus on this website tends to be it's simply youjo senki levels of fash. I still feel like the situation is more complicated (at least there is a lot that would undercut a straightforward fascist reading), but I kinda want to hear what Isayama would say about it.

not that he entirely seems to have the strongest ability to discuss the themes of his work in explicit terms. like not even in a 'the work should speak for itself' sort of way, which i would respect - he seems to talk a lot about his hesitance over what readers would accept, his worries he didn't stick the landing, his difficulties connecting with his main character, how the anime adaptation affected his writing. he's happy to talk about a lot of things! and i don't mean some interviewer should corner him like 'so man, are you an actual fascist or what, the people are dying to know' - more I just kinda want to know what the hell he was going for with all this. whether he feels his worldview changed over the course of the story. if what I think I am picking up is what he thought he was putting down. because i can speculate and all, but... whereas with someone like Hayao Miyazaki, or Yoko Taro, they've talked quite a bit about their respective ideological development and how it's reflected in their stories, with Isayama there's just nothing I've been able to find...

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Diana Rigg (On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, The Assassination Bureau, A Midsummer Night’s Dream)—Though she may be most famous across the pond for her Game of Thrones-era career, here on her native soil she is an icon of the 60s and female empowerment! Arguably best known for slaying as Emma Peel in The Avengers, her biggest pop culture legacy is definitely playing the only woman Bond truly loved - Tracy di Vincenzo - and absolutely stealing the movie (OHMSS) from under George Lazenby’s nose. The Assassination Bureau is also an extremely fun and underrated period adventure film where her boundless energy and wit is better matched by Oliver Reed. She excelled at playing alluring women with a sense of humour and darker complications underneath. Undoubtedly one of England’s most lovable, intelligent, funny, sexy and unforgettable actresses of all time, I entreat you VOTE PRINCESS DI !!

Anna Karina (Une Femme est Une Femme, Pierrot Le Fou, Vivre Sa Vie)—When you watch a Godard film, it's impossible not to pay attention to her beauty and charisma, it's impossible not to like her, even if you hate the film

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Anna Karina:

“How can you say no to those eyes?”

Link to Paris Review essay: Finding Anna Karina (https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2020/02/25/finding-anna-karina/)

Diana Rigg:

"She lived with a director/partner/boyfriend for eight years in the 60s and told the tabloid press '[I have no desire] to be respectable'"

[aihoshiino]

chapter 151 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 8

Aqua Hoshigan Status: Black

Kana enjoyers continue to eat good in this new arc, as 151 very clearly parallels what's considered one of the more iconic AquKana chapters from the first half of the manga with a bit of role reversal in the mix. 'Reversal' is sort of the keyword for this chapter for a handful of reasons but we'll get into that when it's relevant.

the usual shout out to mengo for Peak Faces this chapter. my faves were kana's blushy face as she takes off her glasses and aqua covering his blush with his baseball glove… it does NOT get cuter than that.

It's pretty cathartic to see Kana get a similar TV spotlight to BH!Ruby, where she's centered in B-Komachi's success and Ruby is sort of just in the background lol. That said… kinda of hate that OnK is continuing to frame the ShimaD shit!!! I have a lot of complicated feelings about it but I will say that overall, it's pretty fucked that the story made all those correct assertions about sexual harassment in the entertainment industry and how women and young girls specifically are pressured to kowtow to men to retain their place in the industry and then like… not? link any of this?? to what happened to Kana??? Weird and bad!!!!

on the plus side. megarima and maskua <3

It feels like a good step for Kana to confidently assert that they are, in fact, on a date and their shared visible embarrassment is pretty cute. This is what I meant when I said this chapter was a bit of a reversal of chapter 30, which Aqua even calls explicit attention to - running from school to play catch vs running to school. It works well, imo, as a sort of marker of both change and consistency for both of these characters, showing us how far they've come… but at the same time, how much has managed to stay the same. This return to the early AQKN dynamic is really nice… their moment to moment rapport is the one I enjoy most in the series so even though it's definitely jarring to whiplash back to it after the Movie Arc… idk!! I am still enjoying it all the same.

aqua calling her out on it being a baseball date was really funny btw

And their talk about dreams is… Very Shrimptresting. I keep waffling back and forth on what to take from it, because hypothetically I think it's really interesting but whether or not I really end up liking it is going to depend on how things are handled with Aqua going forward…! IDK, this is the obvious pitfall of analyzing the story like this week to week,

I guess all I'll say now is that this falls in line with how I was reading last chapter's framing of Gorou -> Aqua, where Aqua's inheritance of that identity is just that - an inheritance and it's up to him what he chooses to do with that legacy. He can decide for himself what parts of it he wants to take with him into the future and what he chooses to leave behind.

That said: this is still black hoshigan Aqua. Is this just a 'dream' because it's something he wants but doesn't think he'll be able to have? Or is Aqua starting to seriously consider a future for himself past the end of his revenge quest? It was Kana who prompted him for an answer, after all, and he's already had to make a promise to her that he won't 'disappear'. Is he just lying here to put her at ease? Much to consider…….

Kana's side of this conversation is also really interesting. Kana is a person who acts out of genuine love for her craft, yes, but she's also correct that she kind of already got her assumed end goal of 'be a nationally famous actress' when she was a kid and it didn't necessarily make her happy or fulfilled. To a degree, she's been operating on momentum and desperation to cling to the industry so much of her identity was formed around. But if a 'dream' is something she just wants for herself, without her career coming into it… then what does Kana really want?

And the answer, obviously, is Aqua. With another 'oshi no ko' title drop, to boot…!

It's a little sad that even as Kana makes this tentative confession to him, she still downplays herself in favour of Memcho and Ruby but the emotional stakes she's putting on the table are very loaded. This essentially, without either girl knowing it, puts her in direct competition with Ruby who very much seems to still want to milk her sensei's Little Aqua and I don't imagine that conflict is going to go off without fireworks.

Interestingly, though, this isn't the only point on which the two are opposed here: this is what I mean when I said this chapter's keyword was 'reversal'. While Ruby insists that 'Sensei' is her oshi, Kana offers to be Aqua's oshi. This isn't the first time it's happened, either - when Kana talks about her feelings last chapter, she describes them as 本気の恋 (honki no koi), i.e, seriously, earnestly, truly in love whereas Ruby's confession uses the term ガチ恋 (gachikoi), a slang term referring to a fan who considers themselves to be legitimately in romantic love with a celebrity/idol/etc - and specifically says she's gachikoi for Sensei. Gachikoi is also how the first generation of B-Komachi are described in both Viewpoint B and 45510 in the original Japanese text. On just about all fronts, these two are bound to clash going into the final arc of the story and I'm tentatively interested to see where it goes.

No break next week!

[comradekatara]

I cannot perceive sokka as being cis after I read one of your posts abt him being dykey and playing gender chess?? It just makes so much sense in my head, for me sokka sees being a man as a duty of sorts because he wants to protect others

right like sokka internalizes patriarchal logic but is also able to detach bioessentialism from that logic no problem the second he puts on the kyoshi warrior outfit and realizes how good it feels…. like his relationship to gender is actually so difficult to define because on one hand he views men and women as ontologically equal very early on into the show, but on the other hand he still believes that it is his duty to perform a certain role, and he doesn’t really understand how that role is harmful or incorrect because he stakes it so entirely to his identity and, indeed, his raison d’être.

so sokka performs Manhood insofar as he associates it with being a protector and a provider, but that’s also kind of complicated by the knowledge that his idealized identity is also so closely staked to his desire to martyr himself like kya did. or like yue did. he wants to a protector and provider and warrior but that model is largely founded (concretely at least, not just within his imagination) on examples of the women and girls in his life. whereas he desperately attempts to live up to this vision hakoda provides him of manhood (“knowing where you’re needed the most”) but the irony there of course is that hakoda is gone. sokka is attempting to fill an absence but is also actively modeling his ideal embodiment off of the legacies of women.

so on hand he’s enmeshed in these patriarchal ideals of what it means to navigate a war, but he is also actively learning from women how to fight and die for your people. and one of the first things we see sokka actively realize is that women can embody that same role he has idealized his entire life, and he can embody “womanhood” and take pride and personal satisfaction in that (even if others don’t fully understand it). but that also isn’t to say that i think sokka is just straight up transfem (although im not against that reading either), but rather that his relationship to gender would be something he approaches pragmatically and conditionally because he sees it as a tool rather than a key piece of his identity.

the fact that he was “born a boy” and had to be “the last man” of his village and take on those specific roles all by himself is such a deep injustice (even if, as katara somewhat rightfully points out, it also afforded him a certain privilege) and even though he quickly understands those designations are arbitrary, he can’t just let go of how that role shapes his identity either, especially because he is actually needed to provide for and protect and fight, and he can’t just dismiss those roles as being purely trivial and constructed either. there is a need for people who can do those things, which is why the roles exist in the first place, and why they’re so valorized (especially during wartime).

but if he ever actually bothers to look inward (lol, as if) for even a single second, he’d probably realize that even if he takes pride in inhabiting those roles, he no longer feels as if it is something that is directly staked to his “manhood.” because he knows from people like suki that there isn’t a logical correlation. and so his gender is something he feels no personal attachment towards, but is rather externally constructed, a matter of social perception. and perhaps someone who is less resistant to exploring their own internal world would also come to realize that their gender nonconformity constitutes an “identity” in its own right, but i don’t think sokka is that thoughtful when it comes to who he is or how he identifies.

if anything suki is the one who bestows him dykehood and dictates the terms of his gender, and he’s just like “yeah that sounds right i guess.” because like, he’s definitely not cis. but does he know that?? unclear.