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girl-in-the-tower · 4 years

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WHY I LOVE THE SCARABIA CM AND YOU SHOULD TOO

Listen, I don’t even know why you’d actually need to look for a reason to love and cherish this beautiful piece of animation, but to each their own. Regardless, you’re in the right place, because I’m about to gush and cry over this CM just to convince you to show it the same level of love that I feel for it. It’ll be difficult, but don’t worry, I’ll be there with you the entire time. So, let’s start with the beginning.

What makes this CM different from the others? Well, let’s look at the most obvious aspect: it’s narrated by two people, instead of just the Overblot victim like in the case of the Heartslaybyul, Savanaclaw and Octavinelle. There we had only Riddle, Leona and Azul speak because, obviously, as the Prefects and shadows of the villains they would be the most important characters. You could call that antagonist privileges if you want, but there’s a reason a show with a big cast doesn’t go in depth with every single one of their characters. Not only would it be infeasible, but also useless. Narratives need a point of focus, otherwise they end up disjointed and incomprehensible.

So why didn’t this CM just have Jamil narrate? He’s the antagonist of chapter 4, after all. Shouldn’t he get his own moment in the spotlight, separate from Kalim? Well, yes and no. For you see, the thing about Scarabia is that unlike other dorms the relationship between the Prefect and vice dorm leader is much more complicated. By which I mean that no other vice dorm leader is an indentured servant to the family of their dorm’s Prefect. Trey is Riddle’s childhood friend, Ruggie sticks with Leona because it gives him a better chance for survival, the Leech twins stay with Azul out of curiosity, Rook admires Vil, Ortho is Idia’s little brother (?) and Lilia has served as Malleus’ parental figure.

(Also, yes, I’m counting Ruggie and Ortho as vice dorm leaders since that’s basically their role anyways.)

None of them are bound to their Prefect. Trey has a life outside of Riddle, Ruggie will drop Leona like a sack of potatoes if the latter gets too much to deal with, the Leech twins EXPLICITLY say that they will turn on Azul if they get bored, Rook actually points out Vil’s flaws to his face, Ortho doesn’t let his brother get away with everything and Lilia’s position is more of a trusted family friend, than an actual guard/babysitter. The point I’m trying to make is that all these people have choices when it comes to their relationships with their respective Prefects. They stay by their side out of their own will and not because someone is forcing them to be there.

The same doesn’t apply to Jamil. He can’t just decide to leave Kalim’s side one day, because he was getting sick of looking after him. And that’s because he didn’t have a choice in being by his side in the first place. That decision was made for him by his parents. Because that’s how indentured servitude works: when you’re in the service of a lord, especially if you’re a poor peasant, your period of time decided upon entering the contract tends to extend to future generations as well since you’re not given any money to save. Most peasants that found themselves in such positions often would marry and start a family while still in the service of their lord and should they die, their family, unable to provide for themselves because their whole life was spent doing unpaid labour, will also enter the same contract. This process would go on until either slavery, which this most certainly is, was banned or the lord decided to set you free. The former was much preferable to the latter, because in a feudal system to be set free by your lord often marked you as an undesirable servant. You would be hard pressed to find a lord that would ‘hire’ you after finding out your former ‘employee’ decided to ‘fire’ you. So it would be very rare for indentured servants to actually manage to free themselves from that position.

This is precisely where Jamil’s frustration arises from as well. As a capable individual, he’s acutely aware of the limitations his status imposes on him. He’s a servant of the Asim family from birth, much like his parents and grandparents were before him. This is not something he chose for himself, but rather something that was imposed upon him. Herein lies the central issue that defines Jamil’s character: lack of choice. Much more than any character, Jamil’s life is governed by the limitations that arise due to his social position. We see that ever since his childhood he was forced to always take into consideration Kalim’s abilities and model his performance as not to eclipse him in any way. If Kalim placed second place in a dancing competition, Jamil must not be among the top three. If Kalim’s grades slipped, his own grades must as well. If Kalim lost two times in a row at mancala, Jamil must make sure he loses the next three games. Yet, paradoxically enough he mustn’t fall behind too much either, for that would make him a useless servant. And as I pointed out before, inept servants are not considered desirable by those in power.

It is in essence a balancing act that Jamil must make sure he adheres to strictly, as not to bring shame to the Asim family to whom he is, in theory, loyal. In relation to Kalim, Jamil must make sure he performs poorly, but in relation to others he must make sure he performs well. It’s that precise position between exceptional and ordinary that he must achieve, and according to Azul, Jamil is excelling at that.

Azul: You usually never make yourself stand out—A wallflower, so to speak.

You make sure not to stand out academically, too. Whether it’s with class standing, or with practical training. But, at the same time…

You never get failing scores. (4-37)

Yet the question we must ask is why? Why must Jamil follow these demands?

Well, for one it’s the issue of the indentured servant that we have discussed before. Jamil is bound to the Asims and going against them will bring repercussions not only on himself, but on his family as well. In the modern age in which Twisted Wonderland seems to be set in, this would not be much of an issue, we would guess. However, while that might be true, we must consider it not only from a logical perspective, but a psychological one as well. The human brain is fascinating in the sense in which it is able to transform information into patterns. And nowhere is this most apparent than in the impregnation of cultural norms into the mind. We tend to think of some things as innately ‘normal’ and ‘ordinary’ and everything that goes against those beliefs as ‘perverse’ and ‘immoral’. For example, up until a few decades ago, the idea of women as second-class citizens was seen as a perfectly reasonable notion. Those that did not agree with it were considered troublemakers and agitators, and if there’s anything the human individual loves more conformity, it’s ensuring that it’s enacted upon the population at large. The nail that sticks out gets the hammer, as the saying goes.

But what does this have to do with Jamil? Well, the fact is that his role, as Kalim’s servant, comes with certain social expectations.

Jamil: Kalim’s parents were always better than my parents. That’s why… Kalim should be better than me, too. That’s why, I could never surpass Kalim when it comes to studying, exercise, and even playing— (4-36)

The role of a servant is that of support. The Master leads while they provide the conditions and the means to do that. That is precisely the position that the Viper family is supposed to take in relation to the Asim family. For a servant to surpass his master, it leads to a deeply problematic realization: that one’s status is divorced from one’s capacity. Medieval rule was often characterized by monarchs assigning themselves as God’s anointed on Earth. Their right to the throne was not ensured by their capacity or disposition or ideals, but simply by their nature. They were meant to rule, because of the social class and family they were born into. Nothing less, nothing more. It was instinctively understood that there was a great differentiation between them and the common people and that was translated in their position as those to be considered ‘elevated’. They did not mingle with the common folk, because that was beneath them.

And unfortunately, that is a cultural inheritance that is not easily done away with. For though we might claim we left behind the days of feudalism and vassals, there is still a great divide between social classes. It merely took a different form. Lords of the castle turned into politicians, celebrities and glamorous multimillionaires. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, as Shakespeare would put it. Call it what you will, but the end result is that social divide still exists. And we can see that is the case in Twisted Wonderland as well.

Though the game tends to gloss over it in certain aspects, by having Leona’s reception by the main student body be as that of a lazy Prefect, and Malleus’s position is often eclipsed by his elusive attitude, it is constantly made clear that Kalim is someone with an important social background. We might have to be reminded that Leona is the second prince of the Afterglow Savannah, or that Malleus is the next king of the Valley of Thorns, but we aren’t offered the same discretion with Kalim’s character. He is almost always introduced as Kalim, the heir of a multimillionaire family. It is thus impossible to separate him from this title, and by extension, Jamil as well. Whether he likes it or not, as the servant of the Asims, Jamil is tethered to Kalim by being a part of his social image. No true Master can exist without servants, and no servants can be had without a Master. The two are reliant on each other, much like Kalim and Jamil are reliant on the other to define their position in life.

Kalim is the son of a wealthy family because he has Jamil to prove his special status. Jamil is a servant of the Asim family because he has someone to serve. But whether he wants to be part of this system and have his identity be defined by this connection is out of his hands. And that’s the truly unbearable notion that Jamil has to deal with in his chapter: no matter what he does he is never in control of his own life. It’s always something that is decided for him.

This, in itself, is not coincidental I would say. You see, besides being interesting social commentary, it is also an unexpected look into the underlying themes of Disney’s Aladdin. If we were asked to describe what the movie is about, I think it’s safe to say most of us would cite “poor street-rat learns a valuable lesson about not pretending to be someone else and marries the princess” as the answer. And we would not be wrong. It’s obvious that “Be Yourself” is one of the most important lessons Disney wanted to teach to young children and this in itself is not a bad thing. But while these might be understood as genuine life advice at a young age, as adults we often tend to look more closely into the themes and motifs of the movies that shaped our childhoods. And thus I would argue that Aladdin is more than just a story about interclass romance, but rather a look into how the social class system functions as a whole. Aladdin, the main hero, is a street urchin with no money to his name. Jasmine, the heroine, is the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the land. Their romance and subsequent marriage is interpreted as a victory over a flawed and classist system, because they managed to surpass the limitations imposed upon them by society and ‘be themselves’. And though this is a heartwarming message to see performed on screen, it’s important to remember that there are more than just the protagonists in the story. Alongside them we have three more characters we must pay close attention to: the Sultan, Jafar and the Genie.

To do a short summary:

The Sultan: Jasmine’s father and the most powerful man in the country, but rather bumbling and childishly naive. As is typical with Disney parents who are still alive by the start of the movie, he is a figure that possesses authority merely in name. Though kind and generally well disposed, he lacks any real power when it comes to the plot of the movie being tricked by both Jafar and Aladdin, as Prince Ali, and ultimately having to rely on the latter to be saved from the former. The Sultan is the quintessential look at a spoiled monarch whose rule is being facilitated by someone more competent than him, and this informs most of his character as a result. He himself might be a doting and benevolent figure, yet his reign is a prosperous one by accident not by his own making.

The Genie: The spirit who resides in the lamp that Aladdin finds in the Cave of Wonders and who becomes his ally in his quest to marry Jasmine. Perhaps one of the most memorable characters in the movie, thanks to the late William Robbins’ performance, Genie's entire quest in the movie is to achieve freedom by helping out his Master. The parallels between him and the indentured servant position are made abundantly clear by the fact that he is bound to Aladdin until the latter agrees to set him free. Genie’s role in the story is one that is important, but his position is one that mirrors Jafar: they are in the service of someone who is less than them, whether it be competence or magical ability. However, while Jafar detests his position and the Sultan, Genie becomes a father figure to the protagonist. The fact that the two exchange places (Jafar is turned into a Genie and imprisoned, Genie being set free and retaining all his powers) stems directly from how they relate to their social class. Jafar is self-serving and ambitious and Genie is altruistic and self-sacrificial. Genie thinks of the happiness of his Master, though he is still displeased by the concept itself, and for that he is rewarded, proving that putting the well-being of others above your interests is the way to happiness after all. That is, if you’re a Disney hero.

Jafar: The Grand Vizier and the second most powerful man in the land, but is a scheming backstabber that plans to take the throne for himself. As one of the most easily recognizable Disney villains, Jafar makes a strong impression through not only his design, but through his philosophy as well. He’s in spite of his high rank, still pretty much a servant, having to ensure that the rule of the Sultan is enacted accordingly. Yet, as an antagonist he makes certain that whatever he does is in his own interest as well. To say that he is ambitious would be an understatement, but what is it that he wants exactly? There is no clear answer, but the closest we can get to is that Jafar wants power.

But wait, you might say. Didn’t Aladdin also want that? Why is only Jafar the villain, if they were both after the same thing?

That is a good question! And the answer to it is yes and no. Though indeed, both Jafar and Aladdin wanted power it was for different purposes. Aladdin wanted it for the sake of overcoming his social limitations and thus becoming a worthy candidate for Jasmine, while Jafar wanted power for power’s sake. The lesson that Aladdin learns is that he shouldn’t have attempted to do that, because it would have never worked out in the way he intended it to. Though Jasmine can bring herself down to his level, he cannot bring himself up to hers since it would disrupt the social system. One cannot rise up to a higher social standing through power alone, they need recognition as well. Which is why marrying Jasmine becomes an important plot point. Jafar, who achieved power through his scheming, still lacks the recognition, which can only be granted through marriage to a royal or someone of higher social standing. He fails to achieve it, because his rise in social ranks did not have a ‘noble’ purpose like Aladdin’s but it merely satisfied his own agenda and needs.

Jafar’s status as a villain is thus due to the fact that in Western media ‘Ambition Is Evil’ is one of the most prevalent tropes. Think of the Becky Sharps, the Slytherins, the Lucifers, the Littlefingers that populate our literature, their evil nature is more often than not tied to their necessity to rise above others.

To reign is worth ambition though in hell;

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven. (Paradise Lost)

Power corrupts, and ambition corrupts absolutely. Disney characters thus often learn that it is better not to be swayed by power from their role in society for the sake of power, or they will pay the heavy price for doing so. That is why Jafar fails and Genie succeeds, because they related differently to their role in their Master’s lives.

And that is a theme that Twisted Wonderland also touches upon in Jamil’s story. Twisted from Jafar itself it was inevitable that his story would deal with such a topic. However, what deeply impressed me was how self-aware the narrative had been in regards to it.

Ruggie: I feel bad for you. By helping out Kalim you have burned your hands considerably. (R Card School Uniform)

Jamil: I want to avoid standing out. I can’t be satisfied with this. I cannot be too good, nor fall behind, and neither should I get satisfactory grades or fail. This is the best shortcut to success. (SR Card Lab Coat)

Jamil: I am a sworn servant to the house of Asim and thus have a duty to protect the master. (SR Card Ceremony Robes)

Azul: You are always welcome in Octavinelle should you find yourself freed from Kalim. (5-10)

The matter of Jamil’s role as Kalim’s caretaker is one that has been brought up at several points throughout the game. This is usually done with the express purpose of reinforcing his status as his servant, but also to affirm that it is indeed this very position that is preventing him from achieving his full potential.

Azul: If you look at your grades, there are no visible gaps in your classroom lectures, practical skills and physical training. Even I have a weak point when it comes to flying… For you to not even have such an instability is frankly amazing. It is like you can tailor yourself to suit your needs. (SR Card Lab Coat)

Just as Azul remarks Jamil holds himself back on account of his need to perfectly perform a certain persona: the reliable valet. It is a character we often see in media disguised as the Hypercompetent Sidekick or Servile Snarker, who is by his very nature much more accomplished than the master, but must out of financial necessity submit himself to someone else. Or in Jamil’s case, out of filial obligation. And this is where the comparison with Jafar becomes important because while Jamil does embody Jafar’s ambition, it is not treated in the same manner as in the movie. Jamil’s motives for betraying Kamil are similar to the villain: he wants to impose himself upon others and overcome his social position. Having been raised in servitude since young he has been forced to ‘tailor himself’ to the demands and expectations placed upon him. However, because this position has been imposed upon him and it wasn’t of his own volition, Jamil comes to resemble the genie much more than he does Jafar. Which is completely intentional, I believe. But we’ll get to that soon enough.

Taking this into consideration it is interesting to note how the resolution of Jamil’s arc differs from Jafar’s in terms of narrative. The end of Aladdin has us witness the defeat of Jafar at the hands of Aladdin, his imprisonment in the lamp and the release of the genie from his bonds of servitude. It is, of course, a typical Disney happy ending: the villain was defeated by his own hubris, while the heroes prevailed through self-sacrifice and cleverness. The main character has learned the necessary moral lesson (cynically phrased as: do not aspire to overcome your social class through hard work, but wait for recognition from your superiors) and all the characters that aided them during their journey get rewarded as well. It’s the culmination of the Disney formula that selflessness and altruism are the values that separate the heroes from villains, and by extension good from evil. Evil only seeks its own interests, while good works in the interests of others. So what about Jamil?

The end of the Scarabia arc is quite ‘Disney’ to a certain degree: the villain has been exposed, the heroes send to the other end of the ‘world’, they get their second wind, defeat him and live happily ever after. Well, not really. You see, what happens before the heroes go to defeat the antagonist is that Kalim breaks down crying due to Jamil’s betrayal and Azul remarks the following thing:

Azul: Kalim’s gentle disposition towards others is completely different from Jamil and I… No… Taking into account everything, he probably built a grudge over the years. You have been causing trouble for Jamil since you were little, after all. However, you are not in the wrong. You were born a cut above the others. You were loved by everyone around you and we were raised under such a good environment.

You were simply unaware of the greed you’ve been showing. (4-34)

Jamil’s actions aren’t excused, because they are indeed those of a villain: plotting, backstabbing and double-crossing the heroes for his own gains. Yet, they are not simply attributed to his ‘evil’ nature, but rather explained by the environment in which he was raised and the morals that were instilled in him. Jamil is not evil, but rather merely desperate enough to resort to evil means. And that is a profusely important distinction. Though we might commit malicious acts that does not mean that we are malicious by nature, much as committing benevolent acts does not make one irreproachable. And Twisted Wonderland understands this notion: not in the sense that Jamil was right in what he did, but rather than we can understand why he felt like he was pushed to such extremes.

Jamil’s story is one of the more complex ones, in my opinion. It speaks about an issue much deeper and much more insidious than any that have been explored so far in the game. The result is that unlike the other three previous Overblot victims, Jamil has no clear-cut solution to his problem. Even after the incident he is still in the service of the Asim family. Even if Kalim asserts that they are equals at school, he still will remain a servant everywhere else. No matter what he does he is bound to the Asim’s and more specifically to Kalim.

I feel like this would be the note on which I should safely conclude this very long introduction, as we move further and into the real meat of this post: the analysis itself. Thus, without further ado, let’s see why this CM is such a treat from a symbolical and storytelling perspective.

The opening of Aladdin (1992) is perhaps one of my favorites due to the fact that it seeks out to reference its source material: One Thousand and One Nights. By that I mean that it utilizes a technique known as the ‘frame story’: a story which contains within it another story. In the novel the framing device is Scheherezade, the vizier’s daughter who upon learning that she will marry Sultan Shahryar and be promptly killed at dawn, devised a plan to subvert her fate. She would each night begin a tale that would leave the Sultan so enchanted that he postponed her beheading until the next day so she might finish her tale. However, upon finishing the previous story Scheherezade would continue with another one and so on and so on until she eventually managed to avoid death for one thousand and one nights. Hence the name of the collection.

Aladdin uses a similar device in the character of the Merchant who appears at the start of the movie and introduces us, the viewers, to the world of Agrabah which is a place “where they cut off your ear if they don’t like your face” according to the original lyrics of the song. But it also includes a shot at the end of the movie which has the Genie lift up the ‘wallpaper’ and speak directly to the audience. These scenes, though easy to disregard, do reinforce the fact that the movie we’re about to see is not taking place as it happens, but rather a second-hand account of it. Much like Scheherezade attempts to avoid her decapitation, so does the Merchant at the start of the movie attempt to convince us to give the story a try, become immersed and then abruptly reminded of the fictionality of what we have just witnessed. And I don’t mean in the sense that it is a movie, but rather in the sense that even within the logic of the movie, this whole set of events has a certain fictionality to it. The fact that initial plans had the Genie and the Merchant be the same character only strengthens this notion.

But the Scarabia CM doesn’t start with the Merchant now, does it? No, it does not. But rather it starts with the very first image of the movie itself: purple smoke against a red flaming background. Except that there is no red flaming background this time, but a calming blue shot of the dunes with what appears to be the Scarabia dorm building in the background, or even Agrabah itself. There is no smoke either but sparkling dust that emanates from a lamp half-buried into the sand. The images are clearly meant to evoke the general aesthetic of Aladdin (1992), but they can also be interpreted symbolically.

The imagery of smoke is often one of ascension, of leaving the earthly shackles and rising higher towards the spiritual world. But it is also a rather solemn symbol as well, given that it can also be associated with the burning of corpses. Its presence in the movie is explained by the fact that this is after all a story about liberation: most obviously the Genie’s, but also the other characters. Everybody wants to be free in some form or another. The colour symbolism is also interesting to remark upon as according to Richard Vander Wende, the production designer of the original film, certain colours have different meanings within the movie. Red symbolizes heat and evil, while blue is a calm colour associated with water. The red background thus carries negative connotations, but it is eclipsed by the presence of the smoke in the foreground, that is a combination of red and blue. If we were to interpret this visual choice we could claim that the movie is trying to let us know that the story we are about to watch is one in which morally-grey protagonists overcome the forces of evil. For, even though Aladdin is our main character, he is not a pure hero by Disney standards as he is after all a thief and the lesson he has to learn is that he should not attempt to scam his way into a better social position.

But the Scarabia CM uses a blue background instead, so this is certainly not the same message it might try to send. Rather, due to the positioning of Scarabia/Agrabah in the background, I believe that it is indeed a story about rising above, but not above the forces of evil as much as above social norms accepted as standards. The Scarabia storyline is very much centered around the notion of social positions and how they function within a system of indentured servitude, as is obvious through the way in which Jamil attempts to overcome the position of servant through schemes and planning. We most certainly encounter the thread of evil within his character, but though his methods are unsavory, his end is, I would say, understandable: freedom.

Jamil: For me, and my family... I'll do anything for our sake!!! (4-31)

Jamil: I’m done playing servant!! I WILL BE FREE—!! (4-32)

The choice of a blue background might thus allude not necessarily to goodness as in the moral concept itself, but rather to the comfort of social norms. There is a certain stability to be had in a system that declares that all those born into wealthy families shall remain wealthy, and all those born into servant families should remain servants. To quote Aladdin: “It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home.” (Arabian Nights) In such a system that relies on absolute conventions regarding social classes, someone like Jamil is a threat, because he questions and subverts the limitations imposed upon him. He is smarter and more capable than Kalim, yes, but because he must ensure that he does not draw negative attention upon himself, he is forced to adhere to a lifestyle that is not representative to whom he truly is. The similar shape of Scarabia and Agrabah only serves to highlight that regardless of his environment, as long as he remains a servant through his bond to the Asims, he shall never be able to change his destiny.

The lamp is the most important object in Aladdin (1992) as it is the MacGuffin that is coveted by Jafar and the prison of the all powerful entity that is Genie. The lamp in the movie has thus two connotations: power and imprisonment. The juxtaposition between the two creates an interesting image of how power changes according to one’s position in society. Though Genie’s powers are indeed great it seems that he is incapable of wishing himself free, which is I think a good analogy to the position of indentured servitude in which only a lord’s permission would be capable of restoring an individual’s freedom, even though they would be in theory capable of physically leaving their place of servitude. Their choice not to is not only a reflection of the possible corporal punishment they would endure if captured, but also due to the social contract that forced them to remain in that position. As servants they would remain branded forever as second-class citizens at best or dangerous felons at worst. Not a fate one would ever wish upon themselves in those days.

It is clear that besides Jafar, Jamil also bears quite a lot of similarities to Genie.

It’s like being the genie of the lamp, calling me anytime and anywhere. (Jamil Chat 1)

As I mentioned above, Disney draws an interesting parallel between Jafar and Genie when it comes to relating towards their ‘superiors’: Jafar despises the Sultan and wishes to disposes of him, while Genie forms a parental bond with Aladdin and even reluctantly agrees to remaining bound to the lamp if it means his ward’s happiness. The fact that they exchange positions at the end (Jafar being imprisoned in the lamp, Genie being freed) is the result of the moral choices they make. Genie’s altruism is what allows him to be freed, while Jafar’s ambition is what traps him as thus is the rule of Western philosophy: the needs of the others are superior to our own.

But ignoring Jamil’s OB for now, we realize that he does not truly commit to either one of those positions. He is resentful of his enslavement at the hands of the Asims, but I believe he does not genuinely wish harm upon Kalim himself, but rather towards the system as a whole, which is represented by him. This is an idea we’ll return to eventually, but it is important to mention it in advance, because it paints a better picture of what Jamil’s true intentions were during his attempt to take over Scarabia. It was not power for power’s sake as in the case of Jafar, but rather him trying to assert control over an aspect of his life, which in this case would be his position within the dorm. Jamil isn’t truly interested in the position of Prefect as is, but in what it symbolizes: freedom. As Aladdin shows power is not synonymous to freedom, but rather something adjacent to it. Even a most powerful creature like Genie is bound to the whims and wishes of a mere mortal, much like Jamil is bound to those of Kalim. To overthrow him as Prefect would mean to assert himself as independent of social bonds by having no one be superior to him anymore. Yet, because he does it through immoral means he fails and thus keeps in line with the moral of the movie: you cannot advance socially without the approval of your superiors.

The moon is one of the most referenced symbols in literature due to the fact that it innately appeals to writers and poets alike. It is fundamentally female in nature, due to its connection to the Roman Diana and the Greek Artemis, and associated as a result either with the concept lunacy, to which it lent its name, as well as with witchcraft, solitude, power and change. The moon’s circular shape as observed from Earth is also associated with the notion of eternity and cyclicity, which is perhaps the symbol that is of most interest to us when it comes to Western interpretation, as in Japanese culture the moon can represent a person’s core, unaffected by others. It is more succinctly put a representation of the Self, that which is considered quintessential to one’s identity. And it is this imagery which the CM tends to gravitate towards I would argue.

The moon is a particularly prominent symbol in Aladdin (1992) as it symbolizes the notion of change and new beginnings. Aladdin and Jasmine’s flight during the song sequence “A Whole New World” uses the moon as a backdrop and confers upon it a romantic aura of serenity and calmness, which is referenced towards the end of the movie wherein they fly towards it upon their success at convincing Jasmine’s father to allow their marriage. The moon in this regard is symbolic of unity and fortune, synonymous with true love’s conquest over everything else. But there is also a comedic twist to it as seen in the very last scene of the movie wherein Genie’s face is projected upon it. It is thus primarily a positive symbol associated with goodness.

The CM however is closer in meaning to the notion of the moon as the human core observed in solitude. Unlike the moon in Aladdin, whose shadows are barely perceptible and thus looks more natural, the moon here is overtly engulfed by darkness, with the sole space of light providing a sharp contrast in tone. It is not a symbol of unity, but rather of division creating barriers and boundaries between the characters who are positioned at opposite ends of the circle. Kalim, as a superior in terms of social and financial power, is situated upon the side that shines brighter to symbolize his role as the face of the dorm. He is the Prefect, the one that represents his dorm and the ideals that it is founded upon. Yet, upon further inspection we notice that the word ‘Scarabia’ appears on Jamil’s side, which is not only the dark part, but also takes more space. It is an unequal division but so is much of their life: Jamil remains in Kalim’s shadow, though it is only due to the former’s help that the latter manages to shine as a Prefect. This is confirmed by the positioning of their dorm’s name on Jamil’s side, as he is in fact the one that more overtly exhibits the ideals of careful planning that the Sorcerer of the Hot Lands is known for.

Kalim’s face change is interesting if we consider the notion of the moon representing the human core on which one’s identity is formed, because it confirms that he is indeed as cheerful as he appears to be. His cheerful disposition though likened to the image of the sun, lacks the usual masculine and aggressive features associated with it in Western culture, as he tends towards more feminine ideals of pacifism and serenity, which are associated with the moon. Moreover, as it has been pointed out to me, if one is to consider the Japanese cultural context we would be able to observe that the feminine characteristics of the sun are in perfect accordance with the female interpretation of the star in the form of Amaterasu. His body language is relaxed and openly friendly and there’s nothing about him that truly stands out in terms of contradictions.

Jamil on the other hand presents an entirely different picture. His stance is guarded, that much is certain, and his expression is to be considered at best wooden. Unlike Kalim’s dynamic movement, he remains static and unchanging, sporting merely a look of resigned indulgence towards Kalim, and it seems to a certain extent as if he asserts control over his own reaction towards it. In other words, it is not in the slightest bit natural. Moreover, what does attract our attention is not his expression as in the case of Kalim, but rather the shine of the metal of his choker.

Unlike Kalim which is bathed in light in warmth, Jamil is surrounded by dark and shadows, with the sole point of light being the metal around his neck. This is different from Kalim whose accessories do not stand out in the same vein. The reason is that on a fundamental level they represent entirely different notions. In Kalim’s case it is a representation of his wealth and power, with the lack of focus on them hinting perhaps to the fact that he is at ease with his position as the heir of a multimillionaire family. It does not stand out because that is his right by birth and thus just a natural part of himself. Jamil’s core, on the other hand, reveals that his identity is very much forged by the Viper’s bond to the Asims.

Jamil: I’ve been looking after Kalim ever since we were kids. That’s the Viper family’s duty. (Jamil R School Uniform Lines)

In Kalim’s case the accessories are just that: accessories. But in Jamil’s case they are a mark of servitude. They stand out among the darkness because this is how he perceives his own persona: dominated by the image of the loyal servant who is socially inferior to his master. Even the metal itself seems to have a silver tint, rather than gold, symbolizing that even though he and Kalim should be equal (both sporting gold chokers) reality is very much different, since he is forced to be subservient even though it goes against his instincts.

It is interesting to note that in Aladdin (1992) the notion of space and how it relates to characters plays a significant part. Agrabah, the setting of the movie, is a place of social division in which those of lower status live in poverty, financial distress and crowded spaces, whereas those of a higher status enjoy the luxury and the vast space provided by the palace. Compare the streets of Agrabah during “One Jump Ahead” which are constantly filled with people, objects and animals and project an image of recurring chaos, to the quiet serenity of the palace where the Sultan and Jasmine live. The contrast is staggering. But more than that it is indicative how much social class can make a difference.

It is also interesting to note that with the exception of the Sultan, all characters have at some point transversed these two spaces: Jafar and Aladdin move between the city, the palace and the desert, Jasmine sneaks into the city in order to experience real life and the Genie has access to a fourth space in the form of the lamp. However, the Sultan always remains within the palace walls. The reason for that is rather obvious: it is the seat of power and to leave it would be to admit to inferiority in regards to his position. Unlike the other characters that long for something more, the Sultan is content in his role as representative of financial and social power. He does not need to switch locations, because his static nature is what allows the other characters to progress in their journey.

The CM builts on this premise as well, by showing us the very different worldviews that Kalim and Jamil experience. Fulfilling the role of Sultan, Kalim is surrounded by luxury and comfort, as he rests in his room at the dorm. The colours are warm and calming, as the light very gently illuminates the room in order to cause an impression of coziness, which fits perfectly with his own character. Kalim’s personality is at its core a ‘refreshing’ one, orientated towards creating harmony and a content attitude. All his life was spent among servants that catered to his every whim and desire, so his sense of independence was greatly stifled. If we may put in blunt terms, he’s sleeping through life, relying entirely on his social position due not necessarily to laziness, but rather naivety. Because he never had to leave the palace walls, he never had to develop any sense of autonomy and thus has managed to remain faithful to his social role. He does not experience a sensation of contradiction between who he is and who he is regarded as because he lives in accordance to the characteristics deemed appropriate for him as a member of the elite.

The same cannot be said for Jamil. Juxtaposed with Kalim’s scene we see Jamil walking through the desert as the harsh light shines upon him. There is no comfort to be found in this particular shot. Whereas Kalim is sleeping peacefully and at ease, unaware of the difficulties of life, Jamil is wide awake. Unlike the former, the latter’s life is dictated by restrictions and hardships, all which he has to endure without showing displeasure as befitting his social role. He does not have the privilege of laying around not only due to the demands that are made of him, but also due to his innate desire for change. The desert can thus very easily symbolize the unfairness which he has to endure as a servant, but it can also symbolize his ambition and the effort he is willing to spend on making sure he can change his social status. Unlike Kalim, who rests in the palace, Jamil seeks to escape its confines even if it means enduring hardship. For you see, though the palace is indeed a place of stability, it is also a prison.

The similarities between Agrabah’s palace and the Scarabia dorm building are most certainly intentional. They’re places of unimaginable wealth that function as status symbols for the people that control them. Agrabah is, as we mentioned before, heavily divided, but it is paradoxically the slums that offer more freedom than the palace itself. Looking back at the movie we notice that the biggest symbol we can associate with Jasmine is the bird in the cage yearning to be free. The notion, moreover, is also supported by imagery such as setting the birds free after a talk with her father and, as it had also been pointed out by other critics, that the canopy of her bed is designed to resemble a birdcage. As a princess Jasmine is bound by social roles and conventions to adhere to the expectations placed upon her, and her journey in the movie is to assert herself as an autonomous person before her father by insisting that she be allowed to make her own choices. The problem however lies with the word ‘allow’ itself which once again contradicts her ideals. The notion of allowing someone to do what they want situates the power in the hands of the person who is recognized as the social superior. In the case of Jasmine, it is her father, the Sultan. In the case of Jamil, it is the Asims.

The Scarabia dorm as a symbol of the prison is an obvious one due to the fact that it served as such for Grim and Yuu during episode 4. But that is what we might refer to as physical confinement, which at its core is not compatible with the message of the CM and even of the movie. Because the CM does not focus on Grim and Yuu, but on Jamil and Kalim, so this is not a case of a physical prison, but rather a mental one I would argue.

In several respects, the prison must be an exhaustive disciplinary apparatus: it must assume responsibility for all aspects of the everyday individual, his physical training, his aptitude to work, his conduct, his moral attitude, his state of mind; the prison, much more a than the school, the or the army, which always involved workshop certain specialization, is 'omni-disciplinary'. Moreover, the prison has neither exterior nor gap; it cannot be interrupted, except when its task is totally completed; its action on the individual must be uninterrupted: an unceasing discipline. Lastly, it gives almost total power over the prisoners; it has its internal mechanisms of repression and punishment: a despotic discipline. It carries to their greatest intensity all the procedures to be found in the other disciplinary mechanisms. (Foucault 235-236)

Foucault’s Discipline and Punishment: The Birth of the Prison is an interesting look into the social and theoretical mechanisms employed by prisons in order to ‘reform’ convicts. The end goal of these institutions is to reintegrate the individual into society and to achieve such a thing it is not necessary just to punish and torment them, but to discipline them. By this Foucault understood as allowing one’s life to be entirely dictated by “a disciplinary apparatus” decided by those within power. It’s main aim was to restructure one into a “docile body” beneficial for the economical and political necessities of that specific age, which in many cases referred to the idea of one being content to pursue the interests of the state and those that governed it.

I bring this up because I can see the same ideas reflected in Jamil’s character arc as well. Foucault mentions that the prison is a space in which discipline is uninterrupted and unceasing. In other words it is a space which constantly reinforces the ideals that are considered desirable, and we can see that Scarabia unintentionally functions the same way. It is a space in which Jamil is cast as inferior to Kalim once again, trapped into the position of Vice Prefect, despite the fact that he embodies the ideals of the dorm more than he does. Though this is a different place, his routine has remained unchanged: he must still cater to Kalim’s wishes and perform the role of the servant, despite the fact that in theory the two of them should be equal now.

Scarabia Student B: Our family standing and status shouldn’t matter inside the school! We’re all equal here, right? (4-18)

Under normal circumstances, Night Raven College is supposed to be a neutral space in terms of social standing. Leona and Malleus are recognized as princes, but are not given any particular attention in terms of political and social superiority, and rather scrutinized due to their peculiar attitudes and personalities. They are, in theory, equal to the other students at the academy and the same should apply to the relationship between Kalim and Jamil as well. But things are not so.

During episode 4 we find an interesting detail about Scarabia: it seems that the building had been renovated once Kalim was accepted into the dorm. This is not usually a detail that would require any particular attention, but it reveals something about the environment in which Jamil resides: it is representative of the Asims. The ostentatiousness and extravagance are the result of their direct influence and thus molded by their own desires. By remodeling the building they have reforged it into an image of their social position and installed a member of its own family as leader. Its neutrality has been compromised and so has Jamil’s attempted escape. Attending Night Raven College is not merely a case of attending one of the best magic schools in the world, but also one of asserting one’s independence. Jamil was given the chance to finally break free from the system that has had him ensnared for all his life, only to have his hopes be dashed by being reminded that in the end the influence of his masters is much greater than he could have anticipated. Thus, Scarabia was turned into a space of imprisonment which perfectly replicates the dynamics of the Asim household and thus denies Jamil any possible form of freedom. Much like Genie and Jafar at the end of the movie, he is unable to escape his prison without the approval of his superiors.

Jamil is aware, however, that he is not and will most likely not ever be able to receive such freedom from the Asims. And consciously he knows he cannot attempt to break free on his own either.

Jamil: My family, the Viper Household, has been serving the Asim Family since olden times. A retainer drawing his sword against his master is unforgivable. Even more so, if Kalim’s father found out about it, my family will end up being punished. I’m sorry, but I cannot put my family in danger just because of a selfish request. (4-18)

Jamil’s sense of filial duty is one of the driving forces behind his character. It’s not only that he himself wants to be free, but wants his family to be released from their bonds as well. Because the system in which he has been raised permits a master to punish an entire family for the disobedience of one member it becomes understandable why Jamil is such a guarded person. It is not merely his own person that is at stake, but the lives of those he cares about also. It is a thought that has weighed heavily upon his head since young childhood most likely, once he became aware of how exactly the social system set in place works. To go against it would not be an act of brave rebellion, but that of sentencing others to punishment to fulfill his own ambitions. Which for a character twisted from Jafar seems contradictory. Yet we must remember that he has certain traits of Genie as well. Unlike him whose loyalty lies to his Master, Aladdin, Jamil’s loyalty lies to his family. He’s only willing to endure things as they are now due to the fact that rebelling would mean having them suffer the consequences. And Jamil is aware of that.

Yet, it is also necessary to ask the following question: Why does he end up rebelling in the end?

The most obvious answer: accumulated frustration.

As I stated before, Jamil does not hate Kalim. However, it is also obvious that his Overblot had very much to do with the fact that he had become increasingly irked by the latter’s attitude to life. His critique of Kalim’s character, though harsh, was entirely accurate. Kalim is indeed spoiled and naive to an almost ridiculous degree, even though it is not entirely due to his own fault. Moreover, it is not necessarily these particular traits that Jamil takes issue with, but rather his predilection towards inaction. To briefly reference a previously discussed shot: though Kalim is content in his passivity, Jamil cannot abide by the current system. He desires change, but he knows he is in no position to enact it and is thus frustrated that the one who would be able to perform this task is oblivious to the struggles of those around him. Jamil does not hate Kalim as a person, but rather that which he represents: the power of the system itself. As the CM shows Kalim is able to move forwards, uncaring of limits and boundaries, but uninterested in change (initially) while Jamil, though he desires to advance, is stuck in one spot.

The brief image of Kalim reflected in the surface of running water captures this concept perfectly. Jamil is not looking at Kalim as he is, but rather as perceives him to be: an unclear image. Water has the same reflective properties of mirrors, but due to their unstable state they cannot portray accurate images. Jamil attributes maliciousness to Kalim’s denseness as not only a means of explaining his actions, but as a way to excuse his own eventual betrayal of him. If Jamil considers Kalim as a representative of the system, he feels justified in his actions and thus more willing to go through with them, since he can project his frustrations upon a material, solid person rather than an abstract entity. Kalim is in a sense a scapegoat for Jamil’s anger.

The snake is laden with multiple meanings being both a manifestation of evil (Satan taking the form of a serpent to trick Eve into sinning) as well as a symbol of rebirth and transformation. In keeping with the colour motif of the movie the serpent staff that Jafar carries with him has eyes which glow red when he’s using it to hypnotize the Sultan to indicate his evil influence upon him. In the CM we have the image of a red snake coiling around Jamil’s feet which is the physical manifestation of all his feelings of dissatisfaction regarding his position as a servant finally bursting apart. But before he is overtaken by those negative feelings we notice interestingly enough that the snake takes the form of an ouroboros: a snake which eats its own tail. A symbol of eternity.

Jamil: I’ve been raised as a retainer to serve his family, so I really can’t understand. A master is a master and a servant will be a servant. Most probably for as long as we’re alive. (4-26)

When discussing Jamil’s character we must admit to a certain cyclicity. Not one he engages in, but rather one in which he is stuck. He is the son of a family that has served the Asims for generations, creating a chain of servants and masters that is currently supposed to be replicated by him and Kalim. His sense of autonomy is constantly denied due to the intervention of forces beyond his control. Moreover, in chapter 4 itself his plans get constantly ruined by either Grim or the Octavinelle Trio, creating a sense that the universe itself has aligned itself in opposition to him.

But there is more to it still. Jamil is a highly ambitious person, who desires to establish himself through his talent and skill, thus giving him the perfect reason to despise a system that requires some individuals to be subservient to others for arbitrary reasons. However, by his own admission he cannot envision a life outside the system either. This is in essence the insidiousness of such phenomena: they entrap not only the person physically but psychologically as well. Once one’s identity is dependent upon a certain ideology and philosophy of life it is extremely difficult to extract themselves from that mindset. Much like Foucault said, once the mind is disciplined and the individual turns into a ‘docile body’ they become reliant on that particular system in order to form a coherent identity.

Though Kalim can step outside the bounds and limits imposed upon him, by virtue of his social position, Jamil is only allowed to operate within those boundaries. It is precisely why he stops advancing further once he reaches the end of the round court. Though physically he should be able to overcome such obstacles, mentally he is unable to not. Not as long as he remains under the governance of the Asim family, at the very least. It is obvious however that he cannot simply rise against them, and this realization is what causes him to hit the limit in terms of patience. He finally realizes that he has been robbed of his independence even before he was born.

Jamil: But if I have, it’s better you don’t know what I really think of you. If everything goes to plan… I’ll finally be free. (Scarabia CM)

Sight is an important theme to Jamil’s character as he, much more than any other character perhaps, actively attempts to manipulate the perception of others about him. He is not what he appears as Azul remarks in many of their interactions, and that is because to Jamil allowing himself to be genuine would come with a price: revealing his true feelings regarding his social position. And that, as previously stated, is not something he can afford.

Eyes are often called the ‘windows of the soul’ in the sense that they reflect a person’s true intentions and thoughts. Moreover, the notion of sight is one that literary authors often like to explore in their works. Out of all the senses, sight seems to be considered the most unreliable, since it often fails to discern that which exists in obscurity. The notion is explored in Aladdin (1992) too to a certain degree. Everybody sees only what they desire to see, and because the images they form are so contradictory that it creates misunderstandings and unnecessary conflict. Jafar’s power of hypnotism is even more interesting in this context since by definition it allows him to influence a person’s perception of reality and thus a part of their identity and how they relate to their environment.

The end of the CM hints towards this notion as well, as we see that the Overblot first manifests itself is his eyes, obscuring his sight from the reality around him. He’s chosen to throw himself into the negative emotions that have finally overtaken him, and as a result given him the power to recreate reality to his discretion. We see the parallel with Genie and Jafar in his Unique Magic as well, since though he possesses one of the most potent powers, he’s still considered an inferior. Jamil’s Overblot is thus one formed by the depressing realization that for as long as he exists within the system, he’ll be forced to endure the continuous cycle of subservience forced upon him since before his birth. His transformation moreover is the result of a desperate yearning for freedom which has driven him to extreme actions. The appearance of the red eyes behind him symbolize more than the eyes of the serpent staff. They are a stark reminder that he is consumed entirely by the realization of his own powerlessness and over-dependence upon the Asims, even if it’s against his desire.

To note is also the fact that out of all the Overblot victims, Jamil’s expression is the only one that is peaceful. If we take a look at the Heartslaybyul, Savanaclaw and Octavinelle CMs all of the Prefects display either rage or shock during their transformations. It is clear that this process is a horrific one, which explains their reactions, yet strangely enough Jamil seems serene and accepting as if he has come to terms with this course of action. Unlike the Overblot victims before him, his transformation is liberating to a certain degree, because it allows him to finally achieve his goal: get rid of Kalim and instate himself as leader of the dorm. Not because he covets the position itself, but rather because through it he manages to finally become free and unburdened by his social position. In a way, the dark appeal of Overbloting is just that: unlimited power, and for a character like Jamil, who very much lacks this, it is especially hypnotic.

Out of all the Overblots so far, I consider Jamil’s the most tragic because in the end there seems to be no obvious escape for him, perhaps except in the case of Kalim setting him free. But this is still an event that will happen in a few years at best. It does not answer his current need for autonomy. Yet, despite this we see in chapter 5 that there is indeed some improvement. Though he has refused Kalim’s offer of being friends, he nevertheless has begun acting more like his equal within school grounds and their relationship overall seems less hostile on his end. The fact that much of the action of chapter 5 takes place in Ramshackle Dorm is also an important thing to note as it manages to create a neutral space, untainted by the Asim’s interference. In Vil’s system of meritocracy Jamil is finally able to act as himself and stop performing a role for others, thus he is finally able to assert a degree of autonomy over his own person, which he was not capable of doing before.

Coming now to the ends of this post I think it goes without saying that in terms of narrative cinematography the Scarabia CM is currently unmatched. Though short it manages to give a perfect summary of the themes explored in episode 4, the relationship between Kalim and Jamil and a brief but insightful look into the latter’s psychology and reasons for Overbloting.

So, there’s really nothing else to do but thank Yana for giving us such a wonderful CM for what I consider the best dorm and best boys in the whole game.

Additional Links

Indentured Servitude: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qt--B1Y-u6Y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ti7Kbd6gSIo

Twisted Wonderland, Episode 4: https://kanadesmusingsblog.wordpress.com/2020/06/01/masterpost-twisted-wonderland-episode-4-translations/

Jamil Chats, Personal Stories: https://twisted-wonderland.fandom.com/wiki/Jamil_Viper/Personal_Story

https://twisted-wonderland.fandom.com/wiki/Jamil_Viper/Chat

Scarabia CM:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVSx_BvTlmQ

Aladdin (1992) commentary: https://filmschoolrejects.com/38-things-we-learned-from-the-aladdin-commentary-fd9f1d8573b3/

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The peeps over in the Twisted Writings discord know this has been brewing for a while, but I’ve finally managed to sit down, write and edit this monster. It bears witness to the fact that I adore Scarabia more it is healthy (lol).

Also wanted to thank fellow Scarabia stan buddy @chillableu for proofreading and brainroting with me about these boys. You’ve been such a great help and I’m so thankful to you! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

All the translation sources have been linked in the last section of the commentary.

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anachronisticcrab · 4 years

Text

This has been on my mind for a while, but I’ve never actually addressed it, so here’s my honest opinion on the ‘feminism’ in PJO/HOO/TOA (I haven’t read Kane Chronicles in years, and I’ve never actually read MCGA, so I’m not addressing either of those)

The Hunters of Artemis

Fucking misandrists. It’s not feminism

Kicking people out for being wlw? Not feminist

Kicking girls out if they enjoy sex, or if they have sexual encounters? Not feminist, that’s slut shaming and it’s not okay

Preying on 8 to 16 year old girls, whose brains have not finished developing? Not fucking feminist

Treating men like they’re the scum of the Earth? Not feminist

I’m not saying that men are great. Personally, I’ve got a long and complicated history with men. But I don’t treat them like I’m better than them because I’m not a man—that’s misandry not gender equality, and not feminism

Lying and tricking young girls into hunting down mythical creatures for their entire lives (during which they will be children forever), without letting them in on the knowledge that they will be in constant danger and will never be able to see their families and friends again? Not feminist

They are the epitome of ‘not like other girl’ feminism, which is a recurring theme in Rick’s books

Plus they’re inherently ableist. The second you become a hunter, all physical imperfections disappear because they ‘make you weaker’? Plus, no way in hell would someone in a wheelchair, or someone with depression, or someone with sensory issues, or someone whose blind or deaf be allowed to join the hunters. It’s not feminist

The fact that I’m willing to bet that femme nonbinary and/or trans women won’t be allowed to join. After all, if wlw are kicked out for being wlw, why the fuck would Artemis let trans women or nonbinary ppl in? That’s not fucking feminist

Also, half the Hunters don’t think that satyrs are real guys cause they’re half goat? Like shut the fuck up, they ID as a man, they’re a man.

Artemis finds underage girls who are unhappy, tells them that they’ll have no responsibility, that they’ll be immortal, and that they’ll have fun all the time... and doesn’t tell them any of the bad parts until after they’ve pledged their eternal allegiance to her and her Hunt

The fact that she stops they’re education?? How is convincing young girls not to educate themselves feminism??

It also annoys the shit out of me that Artemis and her Hunters claim to support women, but send untrained, clueless, unsure girls who have only been a part of the hunt for two days on deadly quests where 2 ppl have been prophecized to die. Wouldn’t you want to send someone with more experience? Wouldn’t you want to actually support each other and send in someone with a higher chance of survival? And YEA, I’m talking about Bianca (not her biggest fan, but it was still fucking shitty)

In short, I freaking hate the Hunters, if you couldn’t tell. They aren’t feminist. They’re TERFs and misandrists. And Artemis is fucking creepy

The Amazon’s

Worse than the Hunters

In this case, I don’t know if they kick out wlw, trans women, or nb ppl (I don’t think so, but I’m not sure on that) so I’m gonna put that to the side for now

What I do know however is that they have actual slaves. Like motherfucking human slaves

They rape men, and force them into slavery. How the fuck is that okay? It’s not fucking feminism!

It’s not feminist to put someone in slavery; it’s fucking inhumane and terrifying! It’s a violation of about a hundred basic human rights!

It’s not fucking feminist to rape guys; it’s inhumane and in violation of basic human rights (again!)

They are not feminist; they’re misandrist slave owners

‘Not Like Other Girls’

Both Annabeth and Piper were portrayed as feminist icons during the series. Right? Right??

Fucking wrong. They both repeatedly put down other girls for exemplifying feminine qualities, basically saying that being feminine is weakness and it’s disgusting

How is that feminism?

Piper constantly shit talks her siblings because they’re super girly (for the most part)

She and Annabeth treat Drew like shit because she’s feminine and she goes after guys (and ok, Drew is a bit of an asshole, but there are better reasons to dislike her than she’s girly and likes guys!)

That’s not okay— feminism is about uplifting women, and supporting one another. Not about slut shaming and denoting ppl for exuding feminine qualities

Femininity does not equate to weakness. femininity does not mean you are less than. femininity does not mean you deserve less respect. femininity is not inferior to masculinity. Femininity does not mean you’re dumb, weak, silent, or cowardly. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You are always worthy of respect (unless you’re a fascist or anything along those lines)

Thalia Grace

She gets her own category cause oh my gods I hate her so much

Not only does she support the Hunters and Artemis, she’s a dedicated defender of it

On top of that, there’s her Death to Barbie pin. What the fuck? Cause Barbie isn’t feminist?

Barbie is a doll that comes in all different shapes, sizes and colours, a doll that has hundreds of different careers, a doll that shows little girls that no matter what they look like, or where they come from, they can do or be anything (I know that it used to only be a skinny white blond girl, and maybe one other white girl, but that’s changed). How is Barbie not fucking feminist?

How is sporting a pin that threatens to destroy a doll that uplifts and promotes self love and positivity to little girls all over the world feminist? How is she feminist? She’s not-like-other-girls

She simultaneously supports an ableist, transphobic, homophobic goddess who preys on young girls, is actively against anything remotely feminine, and claims to be feminist, liberal, and punk, of all things! She’s not fucking feminist, she’s not fucking punk (I’m gonna make a whole other post trashing her, cause oh my fucking God she drives me crazy)

Basically what I’m trying to say in this is that the ‘feminism’ in the Camp Half-Blood Chronicles is fucking disgusting. It’s not feminism

If you don’t agree with any of this, or if you don’t like this, dni.

#pjo #hoo #og post #the hunters of artemis #anti hunters of Artemis #anti Thalia Grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #anti Amazon’s #amazons pjo #feminism #toa #rr crit #rr criticism

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sapphirestarxx · 4 years

Photo

Testing the Waters

Find it on AO3!

This is a birthday fic for the wonderful @neutronstarchild!! The Inuyasha fandom is so lucky to have someone like her. She’s a joy to talk to, so supportive, and full of incredible ideas!! She requested MirSan from me and I did my best to deliver. Thanks to @fawn-eyed-girl for being awesome and beta reading for me!

SUMMARY: Miroku likes Sango. Sango is unconvinced. Sometimes it takes a wardrobe malfunction at a waterpark to bring two people together.

Pairings: MirSan, minor InuKag

***

The day had started with so much potential, but Sango was now less than optimistic.

She sighed, putting her purse and clothes away into a locker in the women’s changing room. They had just arrived at the waterpark about ten minutes ago, but she already wanted to leave. She straightened the strings on her bikini, regretting wearing something so revealing. Although, she acknowledged, it was modest compared to some of the things the other girls around her were wearing. Maybe if she wasn’t so self-conscious about some of her more...generous attributes, she wouldn’t care as much.

And maybe if a certain someone wasn’t there too.

Pink triangular cups covered her breasts in a halter style, coming to tie around her neck and back. Rather than a traditional bikini cut for the bottoms, the ones she wore resembled boy shorts, something she was much more comfortable in. She knew her bottom half was a bit on the heftier side and she liked the extra coverage it provided.

“You ready yet, Kagome?” she called, trying to keep the annoyance from her tone.

“Just a second!” Kagome called back.

Kagome had invited her to go swimming but neglected to mention that Kagome’s boyfriend, and more importantly, his best friend, would be joining them. She had nothing against Inuyasha, but Miroku was a different story.

When Kagome had started dating Inuyasha several months ago, it wasn’t long until she had started trying to make half of their hangouts a group event, mostly in an effort to get Sango to know her boyfriend better. Sango also suspected she was trying to play matchmaker. Because the flipside was that Inuyasha often brought his own friend Miroku with him, supposedly to allow the flirt to get to know Kagome better too, since things were getting so serious between them.

However, Miroku had been more interested in familiarizing himself with Sango.

Because he was a flirt, constantly finding new and inventive ways to ask her out. He’d at least had the courtesy to wait until their third meeting before attempting to make a move. And maybe if Sango had thought he was serious about her she’d have considered giving him a chance-- although she was reluctant to admit it, she couldn’t deny her own attraction to him. But she was convinced he was just flirting with her for kicks. His charm had been a little too calculated, a little too insincere, for her to truly believe it.

Even if part of her wanted to.

“Why the frown?” Kagome asked cheerfully, coming up beside Sango to loop their arms together. She led them out into the sunshine where the men were waiting. Sango followed unenthusiastically.

“You know why,” Sango replied, refusing to be swayed by her best friend’s bright smile.

“Oh, come on, don’t be mad at me.”

“You never mentioned the guys were going to be coming, too.”

“Why is that a problem?” Kagome asked innocently.

Sango wasn't fooled. “He’s not serious about it and I don’t want to spend the whole day fending off his one-liners, Kagome.”

“Miroku hasn’t even flirted with you that much recently.”

“It’s still enough to be annoying.”

It was true, Miroku had eased up on the flirting, although it hadn't completely stopped. His words used to have a practiced smoothness that made her roll her eyes, but now she was starting to see a more genuine side to him. A side that actually made her like him, despite her best efforts not to. It almost made her question if she had been wrong about him, but she never allowed herself to pursue that train of thought. She was just his favorite game to play and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of winning. Victory would taste sweet to him, but feel far too hollow to her when he inevitably grew bored of his prize.

Sango valued herself more than that.

No matter how she actually felt about him. Which was, perhaps, the real reason she disliked being around him so much. Sooner or later she would slip and he would know.

Kagome shook her head, seeming to read Sango’s mind with her next words. “Miroku likes you. And I mean likes you. Inuyasha says he’s never seen him this into someone before, you know. I wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn, because I’m pretty sure you like him too.”

“Then maybe he should try something new,” Sango retorted.

“He could go about it in a better way,” Kagome agreed with a slight wince.

Sango didn't reply as they walked through the crowd of people and approached the two men who had already claimed a set of reclining chairs. Instead, she gently extricated herself from Kagome's grasp and double-checked the high ponytail she'd pulled her long, dark brown hair into, making sure it was secure. As Inuyasha and Miroku turned their eyes upon them, Sango shifted the towel in her arms in an effort to hide as much of herself from view as possible.

As if that could save her modesty.

Inuyasha’s golden eyes turned heated at the sight of Kagome in her own jade green bikini, complete with ruffled bottoms. Kagome smiled sweetly in return, the black waves of her hair fluttering gently in a warm breeze. All around them came the sound of conversation, water splashing, and loud calls of excitement, but for those two it was like the rest of the world had fallen away.

Sango felt a slight twinge of jealousy, envious of what they had found in each other.

"Sorry to make you wait!" Kagome chirped brightly, and Inuyasha's default surly expression transformed into a loving smile.

"Keh. Took ya long enough," he grumbled, but the affection in his voice was unmistakable.

While both guys were dressed in swim trunks and cut an attractive figure, Sango couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from wandering to Miroku. Her heart started to beat faster as her eyes took him in, feeling a tightening in her stomach. It was impossible not to note, or appreciate, how defined and toned every muscle on his lean body was. Swallowing, she managed to drag her eyes back to his face, the amusement in his indigo eyes making her blush and scowl.

"Sango, my dear. Like what you see?" He teased.

"Not particularly," she lied.

His answering grin was all the proof she needed to know that he saw right through her. It was frustrating.

Giving Sango a playful nudge with her elbow, Kagome set her poolside bag down and dug through it for a moment, unearthing a bottle of sunscreen. She handed it to Inuyasha and turned her back to him, gathering her hair around a fist and lifting it up.

“Do my back, please,” she requested.

“Yeah, yeah. Shit, this reeks of coconut.” Inuyasha scrunched up his nose, taking the bottle from her without further complaint and setting to work. Despite his gruffness, he clearly didn’t consider his task a chore, if the softness in his eyes or gentle way he kneaded the sunscreen into Kagome’s back was anything to go by.

“It smells amazing,” Kagome insisted.

“You smell better,” Inuyasha said.

Sango looked away from them, taking the opportunity to set her own stuff down, all the while refusing to meet Miroku’s eyes. She was nervous to see the way he would undoubtedly drink her in with his gaze, and could already feel his eyes on her back. It made her feel self-conscious, but in a strangely gratifying way. Her suspicions were confirmed when she turned back around, but she still wasn’t quite prepared for the appreciative way his eyes traveled up her body, or his slightly open-mouthed stare.

"Wow," he said.

"Stop staring at me like that," she snapped, feeling herself flush as butterflies stirred to life in her belly at the look in his eyes. She liked it a little too much, and that wasn’t good at all. It made her feel off balance and out of sorts, something that was dangerous around a guy like him, mostly because it might push her into giving in.

"It's only fair, isn't it? After all, you checked me out. Double standards," Miroku pointed out with an easy smile.

"I did not!"

"It's okay, I don't mind if you objectify me," he winked. "In fact, I insist upon it."

"Oh, shut up." A stunning comeback.

“No need to be shy about it,” Miroku laughed. “Want me to apply some sunscreen to your back too? It would be a shame to let that lovely body of yours burn.”

“Not necessary,” Sango said quickly. “I already put some on.”

“She’s lying,” Kagome told him. “Please put some on her, Miroku.”

“Kagome!” Sango yelped. That traitor. She had planned to have Kagome do it, but clearly her friend had other ideas. Like using this as an opportunity to push her and Miroku together. She knew Kagome meant well, but that didn’t ease the sting of annoyance.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment. He knew his girlfriend was up to something, but as long as it didn’t directly affect him then he was keeping his nose out of it. Plus, she had probably already informed him of her little scheme and bribed him to go along with it.

“It’s just sunscreen, Sango. Don’t be so stubborn.” Kagome let her hair fall back down as Inuyasha finished and handed the sunscreen off to Miroku. She gave Sango a bright smile. “Inuyasha and I are going to go get some drinks. We’ll be right back.”

“Wait, but--” Sango cut off with a sigh as they walked off, leaving her alone with Miroku. She glanced over at him and he raised the sunscreen bottle with a smile, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“What will it be? Come on, I’m not so bad,” he coaxed.

“Fine. But watch where you put your hands,” she conceded, shooting him a warning glare before turning her back to him.

“I’ll behave myself,” he assured her, grinning.

Sango was acutely aware of his presence as he came to stand behind her. She reached back to drape her ponytail over her shoulder to keep it out of the way. The pop of the sunscreen bottle opening almost made her jump and she tensed in anticipation. Despite her protests, she wanted his hands on her more than she was willing to admit.

Then his hands were on her and she exhaled in a rush, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. As his fingers pressed into her shoulders she couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“Sorry, I know it’s cold,” he apologized, misinterpreting the reason for her very physical reaction to him.

“It’s okay,” she managed, her voice coming out a little breathless.

He hummed in acknowledgement, gradually working his way from her shoulders to the middle of her back. He took his time, palms slowly smoothing over her and rubbing the sunscreen into her skin with firm strokes. Her heart skipped a beat when his fingers gently slipped themselves under the strings of her bikini so as not to miss a spot. It sparked a warm glow that settled in her chest, creating a pleasant tingle everywhere his hands passed over. Between the heat of the sun and the heat growing inside of her, a sense of languor washed through her and she couldn’t help but relax against him. It just felt so...nice.

“I like that color on you,” Miroku said conversationally.

“I...what?” Sango blinked.

“Your swimsuit,” he clarified, sounding amused at his obvious effect on her. “It suits you. It’s strong but feminine. Like you.”

The compliment warmed her and she wanted to believe that he meant it. It sounded like he did. His voice was low and close to her ear, almost intimate. She swallowed. Words. She needed to say words. But the way his hands felt on her skin was distracting and made thinking difficult, which was probably why the next thing out of her mouth wasn't a cutting reply.

“Thank you...I think.”

“You think?”

“I…” Sango trailed off as his hands moved to her sides and caressed their way down to her waist, his fingers rubbing circles and making her feel things she wasn’t supposed to feel for him. He continued kneading the lotion into her, his palms coming to rest at the small of her back and dangerously close to her ass. She held her breath, her veins thick with the pleasure spreading through her. Her heart pounded and she closed her eyes, leaning back against him.

Then snapped them open when she realized what she was doing. Oh God.

She jumped away and her cheeks flamed crimson.

Miroku looked surprised for a moment then smirked, letting out a chuckle. She cursed herself-- she couldn’t have been more obvious. It was getting harder to hide what he did to her and for a moment she considered being honest. But no matter what Kagome said, there was no guarantee that Miroku’s feelings for her were genuine, and she wasn’t ready to take that chance just yet.

“That’s good enough,” she said, looking away from his knowing gaze.

“Hmm. You’re already looking a little red,” he observed teasingly.

“I’m just hot. You’re imagining it,” she mumbled.

“I couldn’t agree more-- you absolutely are hot. I would even go so far as to say stunning. And I can assure you, I am not imagining that.”

His words broke the spell his touch had invoked and she rolled her eyes.

“Save the smooth words for someone who cares.”

“So you think I’m smooth.” He was as undeterred as ever.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Miroku just grinned, then held out the bottle of sunscreen to her. “Care to return the favor?”

Sango sighed, pursing her lips. “Turn around.”

It was going to be a long day.

****

An hour or so later, Sango was actually enjoying herself (for the most part). Inuyasha and Kagome had returned shortly after, bottles of water in hand, along with a giant cup of banana split Dippin Dots and four spoons. After that, they headed into the water, Kagome voting to hit up the lazy river first. Miroku had looked at Sango with a secret little smile the whole time and Sango had done her best to ignore it and everything it meant. Which was why she had claimed the spot by Kagome’s side in an effort to avoid him as much as possible, something that only made the looks he aimed her way even worse.

He could get under her skin like no one else.

Inuyasha had scoffed that the lazy river was boring, but Sango was pretty sure that was just because he was stuck with Miroku. Kagome had archly replied that he and Miroku could find something else to do in the meantime if he disliked it so much, but “the girls” were going to get some sun and relax.

Now, she and Kagome were in line to go down the biggest waterslide the waterpark had to offer. Kagome was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and Sango smiled, shifting the giant two-person raft in her arms as they waited their turn. Inuyasha and Miroku had already gone down a few people ahead of them and were waiting for them at the bottom.

“Something happened with Miroku, didn’t it.” Kagome didn’t even make it a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sango knew what was coming and decided to play dumb.

“I saw the way you were blushing earlier when Inuyasha and I came back from leaving you two alone. And the way he was looking at you.”

“Nothing happened. He just put sunscreen on my back and I put some on his.”

“Mhmm,” Kagome said, unconvinced. “If you say so.

“Why are you so bent on pushing us together?”

Kagome sighed and looked into Sango’s eyes, her expression earnest. “Because, Sango, I know you like him. You may think you’re good at hiding it, but I can tell you have some feelings for him, and he likes you too. And when two people like each other, it’s incredibly dumb for them to not just be together when there’s no good reason they shouldn’t.

“Also, I’ve seen the way you look at me and Inuyasha when you think I’m not paying attention, the wistful expression you get on your face. And I want you to be happy too, and be able to share that kind of happiness with someone else.”

Sango bit her lip, moved by Kagome’s honesty but also a little frustrated. “What’s the point, Kagome? I’m just a challenge to Miroku. You’re right; I like him. A lot. Which is why I get so annoyed with him, since I’m mostly just annoyed at myself for being so into him. Because I’m smart enough to know how it will end.”

“You don’t know it will,” Kagome shot back.

“You don’t know it won’t.”

“Why are you so convinced he doesn’t mean it? I mean I can kind of understand thinking that in the beginning, but now?”

“I don’t know,” Sango said honestly. Her reasons had always seemed so valid to her, but now she was wondering if it was just an excuse. Or maybe the heat of the sun was just getting to her. Still… “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Kagome beamed.

Sango didn’t reply because they were up next. The sound of rushing water from the slide permeated the air and would have drowned out any words she had to say anyways. She tuned out the practiced spiel of instructions the person manning the waterslide was rattling off as she set their float down and Kagome situated herself in the back with Sango taking the front.

“Okay ladies. Have fun!” The person finished, then gave them a push and they were off.

Kagome let out a shriek of excitement and Sango grinned in spite of herself as the raft was carried away by the currents of water, propelling them down the slide at high velocity. The raft swayed, riding up onto the sides of the waterslide at each fast turn, making Sango feel exhilarated. Kagome grabbed onto her from behind, giggling as they rushed towards the bottom.

“This is so fun!!” She cheered.

Sango agreed, letting out a whoop as the end approached.

Then they were crashing back into the pool with so much force Sango found herself submerged for a moment. When she broke the surface of the water, it took a second for her to regain her bearings. Once her senses returned, she heard Kagome’s excited chatter to Inuyasha over to the side, where they all stood in the pool, out of the way of people still coming down the slide. She waded towards them, a sudden gust of wind raising goosebumps on her wet skin. Kagome turned her way, a radiant smile on her face, before her expression became frozen. Miroku was also staring at her, looking dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

That was when Sango realized her bikini top had gone missing.

"Oh shit," Inuyasha said, turning red and looking away.

Sango let out an embarrassed yelp, her arms coming up in an effort to cover herself as she lowered herself back into the water. Oh God, oh God, oh God. A flush heated her cheeks, making them burn so hot it almost felt like her face was on fire. Maybe if she was lucky she would spontaneously combust and be spared from the rest of this nightmare. And that’s what it was, because this was not happening. She stared fixedly downwards, as if her feet were the most fascinating thing in the world.

She heard voices around her, some of them male, and her self-consciousness intensified.

“Dude, did you see that?”

“Damn look at that girl over there.”

“Holy shit!”

Sango tried to tune them out, almost paralyzed in her mortification. And then Miroku was there in front of her, pulling her up and against him. She was so surprised she didn’t have it in her to resist as he crushed her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the eyes of all the onlookers.

“Oh my God,” she whispered against his neck. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover it.

“It’s alright, I won’t let anyone else see,” he murmured.

An obstinate part of her wanted to pull away because of the intimacy of it all. She was half naked and pressed up against his naked chest, and his arms felt entirely too good around her. But that was silly, especially when he clearly had good intentions. And to be honest, she hadn’t expected such a move from him, which was probably a bit unfair of her. Then again, maybe she had been unfair in a lot of things she’d thought about him. She breathed deep, attempting to calm her racing heart, and found reassurance in his presence.

The nervousness she felt now was for an entirely different reason.

“Let’s just go over here where there are less people,” Miroku suggested, his voice sounding a bit strained. Sango wondered at that, but then Kagome was beside them.

“Oh my God. Sango, hey. I’m gonna look for your top, and Inuyasha is gonna try and keep people away until I find it,” her best friend informed her, sounding concerned.

Sango nodded against Miroku’s chest, refusing to look up and see the reactions of everyone around them. Despite her reluctance, she couldn’t help but be curious as to what expression Miroku was wearing now. Or if it matched the way his voice had sounded. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, reminded again of how tall he was, and how warm his skin felt against hers. Everything she tried so hard to not notice about him was suddenly impossible to ignore.

“Sounds good,” she managed.

Miroku drifted to the side, entering a deeper part of the pool that gave them more privacy, and Sango allowed herself to be led along. Their toes still touched the bottom, but the water now came up to her shoulders, which somehow made her feel more secure. She vaguely heard Inuyasha snarling at some people to stay away, and that would have made her smile if she wasn’t still so on edge over feeling her naked chest rubbing against Miroku’s and oh God she was never going to get past that detail.

When Miroku stopped she finally chanced a glance, peering up at him through her eyelashes. She tried to be as discreet as possible, not daring to separate herself from him too much lest she expose herself to him again-- one time was too many, thank you very much. Although he likely knew exactly what she was doing, he was polite enough to pretend not to notice. And if his arms tightened around her and slid down her back just a little more, then...that was fine, too.

It was hard to tell, but his face looked like it might be a bit flushed, and she wondered if it was really possible that she had such an effect on him. And that if the things he said to her, however ridiculous at times, were words he actually meant . It made something inside of her soften, even as another part of her twisted in anxiety. Her feelings were all in knots where he was concerned and she didn't like it.

"I bet you're enjoying this."

The words came out with more bite than Sango had intended, making her cringe. He was being nice, protective even, and she was being abrasive. Ugh, what was wrong with her? She heard him sigh, felt it in the way his chest expanded and contracted against her body.

"When you came out of the water, dripping and looking like some beautiful siren from the sea coming to lure me to my death...well, I'd have gone willingly and died a happy man," he confessed. "I'm sorry you're in such an embarrassing situation, but I'm not sorry to be the one who gets to help you. In fact, I find myself very grateful."

"Oh," she said. Then, before she could stop herself, “So you definitely saw, then.”

Not that there had been any doubt.

Miroku chuckled and she could hear the timbre of it wash over her, feel the vibrations of it in his chest, making her own tingle appreciatively. It made her breathing hitch for a moment before she sternly told herself to get it together. But it was hard, with all his skin pressed up against hers, and all her pent up feelings for him slipping past the barriers she had carefully erected.

“Oh, I definitely did. And you, my dear, are glorious,” Miroku said unapologetically.

Sango wanted to be offended, but somehow all she could feel was... flattered at his honesty, despite the painful awkwardness of it all. Then one of his hands was reaching up to gently pull the elastic from her ponytail, letting her hair hang free down her back. His fingers worked themselves into the wet mass of her hair, stroking through the tangles and making her shiver at how good it felt.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she sputtered, tensing because she wasn’t prepared for the things it was doing to her.

“Relax. With your hair down it won’t be as obvious to anyone looking that you’ve lost your top,” he replied, sounding amused.

“That...actually makes sense,” she admitted, grateful for his smart thinking.

His hand continued to brush through her hair and she felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on them. Despite everything, she found herself actually relaxing against him, lulled into a sense of calm by his touch. She closed her eyes for a moment, drinking it in. Slowly, she released her grip on herself and let her arms come around him instead, feeling the muscles of his back under her fingertips. The motion made her inadvertently rub herself against him and he let out a choked groan.

“S-Sango?”

She didn’t reply, the words she wanted to say catching in her throat, so she laid her head against his chest, leaning into him. It allowed her to hear the rhythm of his heart, and how fast it was beating. It was so uncharacteristic of how she usually thought of him-- cool, calm, collected. That he was capable of being flustered too, somehow it thrilled her and made her own heart start to pound. She began to shift in his embrace when suddenly his arms around her tightened, keeping her in place.

“Sango...please stop moving,” Miroku said, his voice sounding strangled.

She froze, confused by his request, her mind still in a haze. “Are you really going to complain about me hugging you?”

He took a shuddering breath. “It’s not that. I’m thrilled but... another part of me is thrilled, too.”

Oh. Oh.

“M-Miroku!”

She flushed at the implication, her nipples tightening at the thought of... that. A wave of embarrassment crashed into her, and with it came the urge to move and squirm. She resisted the impulse, knowing it would undoubtedly only make things worse. Where the hell is Kagome? she thought a little wildly. Because as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t fault Miroku for the very physical way he was reacting to her; he was only human and their position was rather...compromising.

“I’d have to be a saint to remain unaffected by all of this.” Miroku’s voice was husky, his desire for her unmistakable.

She was suddenly acutely aware of the hardness of his erection pressing into her and heat shot through her, lighting every nerve ending on fire with want. Oh no. Oh no. She should say something, anything, because oh God this was too much. “I--I’m sorry, it’s just--”

As if waiting for such a moment, a wave flowed through the water and pushed into her, causing her to sway into him. And into the evidence of how much he wanted her. She couldn’t stop herself from shifting in his arms this time, biting her lip against a gasp as the motion rubbed their skin together and her nipples tingled appreciatively. An answering ache, soft as a whisper, pulsed at her core.

This was bad.

Miroku groaned, one of his hands dipping below the water to land on her thigh, squeezing. Before Sango could voice any outrage over the uninvited touch, he used his grip to gently push her away, attempting to reestablish some distance between them. Allowing herself to be nudged back the slightest bit, she peeked up at him. His face was composed but there was a slight flush over his cheekbones and a firm set to his mouth, his eyes looking straight ahead rather than down at her.

He was trying so hard to be respectful.

And that made her like him so much more. Want him so much more.

“Fuck,” he breathed, closing his eyes in an obvious effort to get himself back under control. “Seeing you basically naked, feeling your chest against mine, it isn’t exactly something I can ignore, you know. Especially when I’m so crazy about you.”

“I know. And thank you,” she said softly. “For...I don’t know. Swooping in to save me. Being surprisingly considerate. Being you. ”

He let out a laugh. “That’s surprising, since you act like you don’t like me very much.”

And that was true. In an effort to keep herself from getting caught up in something that had the potential to hurt her, she’d just pushed him away when all she really wanted was to pull him close. No matter how annoying he could be at times. The words that didn’t want to come earlier were now spilling past her lips before she could think about it.

“That’s not true. That’s not true at all. In fact, it’s the opposite. At first, I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I--”

Kagome chose that moment to reappear.

“Finally!! Took me forever cuz some kid found it and decided it was his new favorite toy, then I had to go find his mother and...” Kagome paused, as if sensing she had stumbled upon a private moment. “I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Miroku replied without hesitation, making Sango shoot him a glare he couldn’t see. “But,” he went on in a pleasant voice, “it’s fine. We can continue this conversation afterwards. Right, Sango?”

“R-right,” she agreed. She turned her head, looking away from Miroku’s chest to meet Kagome’s very knowing stare. Kagome was grinning, her cinnamon eyes sparkling in delight. That wasn't surprising; this was exactly what she’d wanted. Sango sighed and held out a hand for her top. “Thank you, Kagome.”

“Of course. I’m just gonna go wait over there with Inuyasha.” Kagome gave her a wink, handing the article of clothing off before swimming away.

Then they were alone again. Sango swallowed, her nervousness returning.

“Go ahead and put it back on,” Miroku said with a slight smile. “Don’t worry, as much as I'd love to look I’ll keep my eyes closed until you tell me to open them again.”

“You better,” Sango mumbled back with a scowl. “I mean it.”

He sighed, as if he was misunderstood. Sango didn't buy it for an instant.

She pulled away, taking a moment to make sure his eyes were indeed closed. True to his word, they remained firmly shut, and the corners of his mouth curved into a smirk, as if he knew she was double checking. Giving a slight huff of annoyance, she moved quickly, looping her bikini top over her head until the back tie was snug around her middle. Although she trusted him to keep his word, her eyes kept flitting back to his face as she fitted the cups securely over her breasts. The tie around her neck had come undone and she struggled for a moment with all her hair in the way.

When she was all done she glanced back at him again, unable to keep a wry smile from her face at his good behavior. Gliding through the water, she stopped in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. His smile widened but he still didn’t open his eyes, waiting for her permission. That didn’t stop his arms from wrapping back around her or one of his hands from resting low on her back, his thumb drawing a line along the hem of her swimsuit bottoms.

As her eyes traced the lines of his face they inevitably landed on the curve of his lips. Her heart started to pound as her stomach filled with butterflies. This was crazy. But somehow, it felt right.

And she felt ready to take a chance on him.

Sango leaned in and kissed him.

Miroku inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their hold on her as he kissed her back. It was soft and gentle, and his lips were supple and warm beneath hers. Warmth bloomed inside her at the taste of him, making her feel like she was floating. His mouth moved against hers slowly, taking his time, demanding nothing but leaving her with a promise for more. It was perfect.

When she pulled back a blush colored her cheeks as she braced herself for the words she was about to say. Somehow this was easier with his eyes closed.

“I do like you, Miroku. You annoy me, you’re ridiculous and a little perverted, a shameless flirt. But...you also make me smile and you’re sweet and charming and supportive and...I like you. I like you so much it’s irritating. And not as a friend, but as...something more.”

Miroku's smile grew with each word she spoke until he was grinning widely. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Um, yes. It’s okay now.”

“Good,” he said, opening his eyes, “because I want to look at you when I say this.”

Miroku’s indigo eyes gleamed at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. Sango licked her lips, nervous and excited.

“Say what?”

“That I adore you, Sango. You constantly keep me on my toes and keep me in check. You’re strong. Independent. Beautiful beyond comparison.” His hand came up to cup her cheek as he spoke, the touch grounding her as her feelings for him threatened to carry her away.

“You really mean that,” she said, feeling his sincerity. There was something about the honesty of his words that made her appreciate his confession so much more than any of his previous, more practiced attempts. It might not have been as smooth but it was more heartfelt.

“I really do,” he confirmed, a tender note in his voice.

“Ask me again,” she said suddenly.

He blinked, his confusion apparent. “Ask you what?”

“The question you always ask me. Ask me again.”

Understanding dawned and he laughed. “Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” she smiled, her body humming with happiness. “I’d love to.”

****

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#Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfic #MirSan fanfic #MirSan #Miroku x Sango #Testing the Waters #Kagome loves to play matchmaker #Miroku wants Sango #Sango is annoyed but secretly wants him too

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comrade-meow · 3 years

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Bad data generates bad research; bad research generates bad treatments; bad treatments generate bad outcomes. The physiological differences between males and females are vast, and stamp their mark on every organ of the human body, not just the genitals and gonads. Ignoring these differences will muddle our data, blur our understanding of physiology, and hinder the discovery of new treatments for diseases. Females are much more likely than males to have autoimmune disorders. Males are more likely than females to develop Parkinson’s disease. Males and females may present with different symptoms preceding a heart attack. Males and females metabolize drugs differently. Blatantly ignoring sex as a variable hobbles the process of scientific inquiry and limits the types of questions that researchers will ask, thereby limiting the answers they get.

About this story: last November I came across some anonymous tweets from a person claiming to be a medical student at an American university where professors were teaching that sex is a social construct. I decided to try to find out if these claims were real, and I contacted the Twitter user, striking up a conversation with “C”. We agreed to meet on a Zoom call, and that C would show me C’s student ID, with their name and the name of the school covered, and that we would then do a written interview. C’s desire for strict anonymity is well founded in my eyes, due to the damage that could be inflicted on C’s career prospects if they were caught speaking to a publication about the ideological lies being peddled and the culture of fear at their institution.

On our thirty minute Zoom call, I met a highly intelligent, critical-minded, and determined young person who was expressing deep concern over the ways that gender identity ideology is distorting the teaching of medicine and the repercussions this may lead to in our next generation of doctors.

C held up their ID so I could see their picture on what was clearly a medical school ID. C told me their school can be categorized as “top tier.”

The irony of using “they/them” pronouns for a single person is not lost on me. I find it interesting that due to the tyranny of gender ideology, I must adhere to one of their tenets and accept the use of the plural pronoun for a single person whose sex I know. But the fact that I have to do this is because any information about C could potentially be enough to raise suspicion (just read their words to understand the climate of intimidation they witness in class everyday), and the knowledge of an individual’s sex is still a crucial identifying feature, no matter what the gender ideologues want us to believe.

C and I agreed that I would offer people on Twitter an opportunity to pose their questions directly and that C would respond in written form. Out of the many responses, the medical student chose what they considered some of the most representative and important of the questions. These are their answers below, beginning with a short message they wanted me to share.

-Sasha White

Thank you, Sasha, for having offered me this valuable opportunity to answer these questions. Before we start, I would like to clarify my stance on basic issues regarding sex and gender identity, so that people can keep these in mind while reading.

Biological sex is not a social construct – male and female are distinct material realities which have significant implications for medical and surgical treatment of many different conditions. These physiological differences are relevant on the levels of clinical practice, research, and policy, and absolutely must be acknowledged in order for physicians to best treat their patients. All patients should be treated with compassion, respect, and high-quality medical care, regardless of their professed gender identity. I remain agnostic as to what it truly means to have a “gender identity”, but will respect the wishes of my future patients in regards to their social presentation and pronouns. I believe that dysphoric adults should be able to pursue transition. Physicians should be aware of relevant aspects of trans healthcare, including hormone therapy and surgery, so that they can better advise trans patients on how medical treatments may impact their gender-related care, or vice versa. It is possible and desirable for us to have a healthcare system which is inclusive and respectful of transgender patients, in a way which does not pretend that biology is arbitrary or merely a social construct. Despite my liberal beliefs, the loudest voices at my institution would falsely accuse me of blowing transphobic dog-whistles, hence my anonymity. This hostile climate is corrosive to an inquiry mindset and critical thinking, and will ultimately be a disservice to the scientific community and to future patients, trans and otherwise.

IDD64 @IDD64 asks: “What happened to “nobody’s saying sex isn’t real”?”

This is actually what compelled me to speak out about this practice in the first place. Well-intentioned non-medical people often assume that medical schools are teaching something like, “Gender identity can be fluid and varied, but biological sex is real, binary, and relevant in medical contexts.” This idea is around five years out of date in the most progressive of institutions. I have been told multiple times in several classes that biological sex is a social construct – not just gender. Granted, I can speak only for my institution, but this change has been frustrating and disturbing to witness.

Robert Woolley @RandomlyBob asks: “Do any of the required textbooks also avoid using those words? If not, might you ask those professors if they think the books are either inaccurate or offensive?”

Our curriculum is constantly subject to revision. Around two-thirds of our written materials have been updated with this new language. For the one-third that has remained out-of-date, our class has received multiple apologetic, itemized emails from course instructors in which they provide corrections, beg for forgiveness and patience, and avow to “do better”. In class, we have been given multiple histories in which the patient’s sex has been deleted, even for cases involving disorders which can manifest differently between the sexes. The words “female” and “male” are being erased and replaced.

Born a space baby @ggynoid asks: “What’s the dynamic like for class participation? Do people start with pronouns? Do people tend to agree, disagree? What’s the female-male ratio in the class typically on these sort[s] of classes?”

When school first began, we were heavily encouraged to include pronouns in our Zoom names and email signatures; around 70-80% of the class did so. Most students and professors would start off verbal introductions with their name and pronouns, though that has subsided since we all have grown to know each other.

A vocal minority of students are loudly in favor of the most extreme aspects of gender ideology, while the majority seem to be vaguely supportive in a nonspecific way. I think that this comes from a mixture of naive goodwill and fear – they are trying to be good allies, and this is the only way they know how. Additionally, it is heavily implied that to ask critical questions, even in a way which is ultimately patient-centered and supportive, is perpetuating bigotry, so they just nod along. A silent minority seems to be secretly skeptical. I have met four or five students who have disclosed to me in private conversation that they disagree with one or more aspects of this dogma but they are hesitant to come forward in group settings. I am sure that more exist, but they are hard to find. None of these people have been transphobic.

The female-male ratio is approximately equal, with slightly more females than males in my class.

David Poole @MrDPoole asks: “Do you think the people telling you these things actually believe it or are they being forced to do it?”

I think that a very small minority of our professors actually believe that male and female bodies are interchangeable with the exception of genitalia and gonads. There are definitely more woke students than woke professors, and the most radical of students are far more radical than the wokest professor. Most of these professors are very fearful of saying the wrong thing, so they delicately couch their language by referring to “XX and XY people” or other such euphemisms, even though that can lead to inaccuracies.

The social consequences for misspeaking are highly magnified, especially when most classes are delivered online (due to the pandemic). Our class has been quietly accused of having a mean streak in regards to social justice. We have had petitions circulated (drafted by few, signed by many) to name, shame, and “hold accountable” various lecturers who used the “wrong” language, to the point of humiliation. One professor broke down crying after a genetics lecture which relied heavily on the use of “male” and “female” by necessity. (Though the lecture also made ample space to talk about transgender and non-binary individuals, this was not enough to appease the critics.) Another professor referred to “pregnant women” rather than “pregnant people” and spent a very uncomfortable few minutes after class abjectly apologizing for having caused offense “by implying that only women can get pregnant”. It was incredibly disturbing to see, for multiple reasons. One, this is based on bad science and zealotry that has the potential to harm patients. Two, the magnitude of the “crime” pales in comparison to the magnitude of the outcry. Three, it is a total inversion of the expected social order to see these physicians —some of whom are literally leading scholars in their field— be reduced to fearful puddles if a student so much as looks at them askance. Keep in mind that these professors are extremely liberal, compassionate, and well-meaning, yet they are turned upon with such venom and verve by the people who they are trying to please.

Chopper @RodeoChopper asks: How are cases presented? Normally the first line is “This is a such and such year old (male/female) with a past medical history significant for…”

Here are some examples of formats I have seen in our coursework:

“This is a 43-year-old woman with ovaries, presenting with …”

“A 3-year-old child, assigned male at birth, not assigned gender as of yet by parents, presenting with …”

“This patient is a 7-year-old child, gendered as a boy by his parents, who …”

“57-year-old woman with testes, here with …”

“A 16-year-old patient (gender non-binary, pronouns they/them) …”

“A 32-year-old woman (she/her/hers) …”

“A 16-year-old patient presents with complaints of …”

Of the myriad problems with this structure, the most concerning is that most of these cases do not accurately identify the sex of the patient, which is crucial in being able to weigh the likelihood of potential diagnoses and treatments. A person’s pronouns are not relevant when deciding to prescribe a particular antibiotic, and at which dose. Additionally, I find it somewhat irritating to be expected to state the obvious for things that are the default of the human experience. We do not say, “This is a 42-year-old woman with both her arms and legs”, although there are certainly women in this world who are missing one or more of their limbs.

MaryWrath @WrathMary asks: “So how are reproductively different bodies described then? How are cardiac arrest and stroke symptoms described, explained and taught as we know now they present differently across the two sexes? There are clearly two bodies in our species so how are the professors acknowledging?”

Organs are referred to by their actual names – penis, testes, vagina, ovaries, breasts. However, referring to patients as male or female is strictly taboo. If there are relevant but subtle sex-specific differences, then they will often be downplayed or ignored altogether. As an example, we were told that the higher risk of heart attacks in men was due only to the presence of testosterone, and not for any other reason, which is patently false. When the differences are utterly impossible to ignore, “male” and “female” will simply be rebranded as “people with testes/ovaries”, “AMAB/AFAB”, or “people with/without Y chromosomes”. My personal favorite is “persons with [testosterone/estrogen] as their primary sex hormone.” Oddly, “man” and “woman” are still used, often with redundant qualifiers (“56-year-old man with testes”).

thames pilgrim @thames_pilgrim asks: “What are the most dangerous medical implications for turning a blind eye to someone’s sex due to a belief that talking about “male” and “female” might offend?”

This is a very important question which should be addressed at the following interrelated levels: clinical practice, research, and public policy.

Clinical practice: Transgender patients who do not disclose their birth sex might be at risk for improper medical treatment. (I have seen a natal female person who identified as a nonbinary man, be suspected of having testicular torsion; this person did not disclose their sex to the physician, which resulted in a delay in their care). Out of fear of being branded transphobic, physicians may not accurately and completely inform trans patients about their sex-specific risk for certain medical conditions. And for all patients, if a poorly-educated doctor is unaware as to how disorders manifest differently between the sexes, then patients can be harmed through the failure to rapidly and accurately diagnose and treat their medical conditions.

Research: Bad data generates bad research; bad research generates bad treatments; bad treatments generate bad outcomes. The physiological differences between males and females are vast, and stamp their mark on every organ of the human body, not just the genitals and gonads. Ignoring these differences will muddle our data, blur our understanding of physiology, and hinder the discovery of new treatments for diseases. Females are much more likely than males to have autoimmune disorders. Males are more likely than females to develop Parkinson’s disease. Males and females may present with different symptoms preceding a heart attack. Males and females metabolize drugs differently. Blatantly ignoring sex as a variable hobbles the process of scientific inquiry and limits the types of questions that researchers will ask, thereby limiting the answers they get.

Policy: Patients who are not transgender may be misled by “inclusive” educational materials and miss out on crucial preventative care. This is especially impactful in women’s health; whether due to language barrier, subpar sex education, or cultural taboo, not every woman will even know that she has a cervix, but she will know that she is female. Additionally, recommendations made by professional medical associations are widely used in clinical practice; if these guidelines are generated based on faulty data, this could negatively impact patients on a wider scale.

However, the most pernicious of possible harms is not the denial of sex; rather, the denial of sex is just one manifestation of a greater problem, which is the corrosion of critical thinking itself. Whatever you call it – this postmodern poison, the triumph of dogma over data – it is fundamentally incompatible with critical thinking, the most powerful all-purpose tool a physician has at his or her disposal. Starting with a conclusion and working backwards, all while twisting the data to fit a narrative, strikes me as more religious than scientific.

Marjorie Hutchins @leakylike asks: “Part of being a doctor is taking on ethical & safeguarding responsibilities[.] Why aren’t medical students challenging something which [could] have health implications for patients?”

Our positions as students are precarious, especially if one is labeled as being on the wrong side of history. Consequences for speaking out can include shunning, being anonymously reported to the school for “remediation”, being informally blacklisted from research and leadership opportunities, and potentially expulsion. Until I have earned my degree and have completed residency, I need to remain anonymous. To do otherwise would be to kill my career before it has even begun, which would also limit my ability to help many more patients in the future.

Although I am very biased, I think it should be on the onus of administration and our tenured professors to stand up against this madness, rather than on lone students to publicly put themselves at risk of debt and ruin. For now, I resist in the small ways that I can; I wish to do so more publicly when I am more secure.

#Anglo.txt

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 4 years

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Why is it that people seem to always support trans women more than trans men?

Lee says:

If you’re part of an online forum community that is primarily transfeminine, for example, then there’s going to be a lot of resources for transfeminine people.

But if you’re part of an online forum community that is primarily transmasculine, for example, then there’s going to be a lot of resources for transmasculine people.

And just as there are particular online spaces and communities that tend to be predominated by a certain group, there are also IRL ones that are primarily transmasculine or primarily transfeminine even if they are not explicitly defined as such.

If you feel like you aren’t being supported enough in the space you’re currently in, see if you can find a community that does focus around the resources you’re looking for!

As an example- you may have noticed that the transmasculine post-op community on Tumblr is pretty small. There definitely are multiple bloggers out there, and I think I actually follow all of them, but this isn’t really a thriving hub of phalloplasty information or support, or a large community of transmasculine folks who are post-op and post-transition (Thanks, Tumblr NSFW ban!).

So instead, I seek out the spaces where the community I want to be a part of actually is gathering. Now I’m part of many different transmasculine lower surgery groups on Facebook (over 20 of em lol), I’ve attended IRL transmasculine lower surgery support group meetings in person, and now I’m in two different Zoom-based transmasculine bottom surgery support groups.

I also believe that if you want to see more of a particular thing, you should be a part of putting that thing out there! So I still maintain my transition sideblog here on Tumblr, where I will eventually document my phallo when I get stage 1 in May. And that’s how I support the transmasculine community, in my own way. So if you want to see more supportive posts for transmasculine folks, start typing!

We also have to remember that uplifting transfeminine doesn’t automatically occur at the expense of support for transmasculine people. We aren’t trying to tear each other down, so being resentful of the transfeminine community for the people who support them isn’t a good look. Transfeminine people can never have “too much” support!

I do think that there are certain spaces online that tend to focus on positivity and support for transfeminine folks, and there’s nothing wrong with that- again, yes, transfeminine people do deserve support! Transfeminine people often face the brunt of society’s violent transphobia, and it’s important that we recognize the way that trans women specifically are targeted more than other groups are.

Trans women are often hypervisible and a lot of transphobic movements are aimed at them as a result; bathroom bills because transphobes don’t want “men” in women’s bathrooms, banning trans athletes because transphobes don’t want “men” to take over women’s teams, trans people being banned from gendered homeless shelters because transphobes don’t want “men” to sleep in the same room as women, and so on. When you listen to any of these politicians who support these gross things, you’ll hear them constantly talk about the “danger” that trans women pose (while insisting on gendering them as “men” and refusing to recognize that they’re even women). Trans men aren’t even an afterthought.

Being culturally hypervisible in the media means you’re the target of a lot of hate and the recipient of a lot of support, which is all happening at the same time. On the other hand, the transmasculine community at large is less visible in the media which means we often slip under the radar as a community which of course does tie into the erasure of the community. Transmasculine people more often slip under the radar on a personal level too, because many transmasculine people are able to pass by at least 5 years on testosterone and many choose to go stealth as soon as they’re able to.

That doesn’t mean that all transmasculine people can pass or want to pass, or that transmasculine people don’t face transphobia and violence either, or that the vitriol targeting trans women doesn’t invalidate us as well or affect our rights too, or that we shouldn’t get to share our experiences or ask for support.

We can and should talk about transmasculine people’s experiences as well, and transmasculine voices shouldn’t be erased. Studies have shown that suicide attempt rate for trans boys is approximately 20.9% higher than it is for trans girls, for example, and there are many similar statistics showing that trans men struggle in many ways and face a lot of discrimination, which of course deserves acknowledgement.

Experiencing discrimination and subsequent mental health struggles isn’t something that should be glossed over, yet there are many pseduo-progressive folks in the LGBTQ/feminist communities whose posts can sometimes come across as “men are bad and trans men are men so they’re bad!” When you point out that there are plenty of marginalized men out there who need support, people are quick to say “Well, I’ll support you for being trans but I don’t need to support you because you’re a man since men have privilege and therefore perpetuate oppression!” But in the case of trans men, supporting someone for being trans is the same thing as supporting them in being a man, you can’t separate the two.

And you can spend all day talking about in what situations transmasculine people have access to male privilege and in what conditions the privilege applies and so on, but that is a separate conversation from the point here, which is everyone deserves support and that includes trans men (and gay men, and disabled men, and Black men, and Indigenous men, and Asian men, and so on).

Things like body-shaming men for having neckbeards or small penises is seen as okay even though body-shaming women for having body hair or having small breasts is recognized as misogynistic. Sometimes folks respond by saying something like “you can’t oppress your oppressor” which... makes no sense in this context. Making people feel that their bodies are bad goes against the whole body-positive feminist movement, and that’s true no matter which people you think you’re targeting.

It’s also pretty obvious that being a man doesn’t inherently make you a bad person, but a lot of the hate and anger directed at men (whether it’s posted as a joke or said seriously by someone who went through trauma) can make it difficult for trans men to recognize that they’re men because they don’t want to become the thing everyone hates.

So how do we navigate allowing marginalized people to vent about groups who have privilege without causing collateral damage to other oppressed people?

Some people have tried to solve it by saying “I hate only cis men, not trans men!” but then of course you’ve created a new issue which is the arbitrary distinguishment between a cis man and a trans man. A trans man can be just as misogynistic as a cis man, and being trans doesn’t mean anything about who you are as a person, all it says is something about the gender you were assigned when you were born.

When you say that you only hate cis men, you’re implying that you don’t hate trans men because you think they’re different than cis men in some way in their thoughts/behavior/actions which is a transphobic assumption.

Or you’re saying you know that trans men and cis men can be identical in their thoughts/behavior/actions because they’re all men, so the reason you don’t hate trans men is ... ?? because they had certain genitals at birth (which they may not have anymore) ?? And that’s also transphobic because it’s saying you hate people solely because of their bodies which they can’t always control or change and implies having a particular type of body is morally wrong somehow or that your body makes you a bad person.

When someone makes a point of telling a trans man that they hate men, it’s sometimes a deliberate transphobic tactic used to make the person feel like having a male gender identity is inherently bad and makes you bad because it’s who you are, so the only way to become a good person is to not be a man which means not being transgender. And this is some how TERFs try and convince trans teens who were AFAB to re-identify as women instead of embracing being men. It’s hard to embrace being something that people have told you is problematic so people try to repress their feelings and ignore who they are.

Yet folks who don’t say “I hate all men” and instead say “the patriarchy sucks but it’s okay to be a man and not all men are bad” have found that statement controversial too.

Even that phrase, “not all men,” is a red flag because it’s primarily used by the “men’s rights” folks who try and defend their misogyny and push their anti-feminist agenda while denying the ways that they personally benefit from the system. All men benefit from the system of patriarchy if they are recognized as men by the system, but that doesn’t mean every individual man is personally responsible for actively perpetuating oppression or that every man is a bad person.

So when someone points out the ways that men are taught to hate themselves by people who are constantly bashing on men in hurtful ways, or the struggles that men face (even if they aren’t struggles unique to men), there are people who just freak out because they think that acknowledging this is in some way trying to say that men can’t be oppressors, or that pointing it out is somehow delegitimizing women’s experiences or part of a pushback against women’s rights because the MRAs have tried to stake a claim over the entire topic.

So any nuanced conversation about ways that we actually can support men and break down oppression and uplift marginalized folks has been silenced because this toxic group has dominated the conversation and nobody wants to accidentally seem like they support those things, so they don’t support anything that focuses on men at all.

Similarly, when someone posts about something that affects trans men people (usually cis people TBH) often will respond with “trans women have it worse with that issue, and everything else too!” which isn’t a helpful response because while it’s important to recognize the way that trans women face multiple axes of oppression, uplifting trans women in a way that makes it impossible for another marginalized group to have a conversation doesn’t help anyone. It’s okay for some posts to not be about or for trans women without starting to play the Oppression Olympics games because transmasculine people also need support and space and allowing transmasculine people to talk about their experiences doesn’t mean that transfeminine people are being ignored.

All that being said, I would argue that people definitely don’t always support trans women more than trans men, and I wouldn’t even say that people usually do so. It very much depends on the space you’re in. While I do believe that there are a lot of positivity/supportive posts about trans women on Tumblr, this is, in many ways, a direct reaction to counter the large volume of hate that’s also actively being directed at trans women on Tumblr. And while there are plenty of “love trans women!” posts, there is also an issue with the lack of practical resources and material support for trans women because most of the content does not go beyond the surface level heart-emoji type post.

So in what I’ve noticed on Tumblr specifically (as this varies depending on the platform you’re using and the space you’re in), there can be more vocal (aka performative) support for trans women but it mostly tends to focus on their identities saying they’re valid women and so on but doesn’t give them much information or material support or anything else that I would deem a useful resource, whereas there might be less support for trans men in terms of “gender identity positivity for being male” but there’s more practical resources and information that they can use to aid in their transition.

Again, whatever you do, don’t complain that transfeminine people have too much support- that’s not the same thing as saying that you’d like more support for trans men struggling with X issue.

And yes, while we do have many things in common, there are some differences in the struggles the community faces and the experiences we have, and it’s okay to want to talk with other folks who are going through the same thing. That doesn’t mean that you don’t care about transfeminine people or that you think they should have a smaller platform or something, it just means you’d like support for your identity and transition (which is wholly unrelated to how much support there is or isn’t available for them).

So if you are looking for more support for trans men and feel like you aren’t getting what you need in the online or IRL spaces you’re currently moving in, you should try finding the spaces that are meant to be supportive communities for trans men and join them, whether they’re specific blogs, Facebook groups, Discord servers, or in-person/on-Zoom support groups, and also do what you can to create the support you want to see for your community!

#Lee says #not really sure what to tag this as #transphobia #discourse #suicide m #Anonymous #trans #transgender #nonbinary #lgbtq #lgbt #transgender teen survival guide #transgenderteensurvivalguide #TTSG

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iturbide · 3 years

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I don't often see stuff about these two, but I'm curious what your thoughts are on Vaike and Maribelle as characters?

I never hear about either of these two and this makes me so excited

How do I feel about this character?

I love The Vaike. You know that thing that’s come up a couple times now, about me having a major soft spot for the characters that have more muscles than brains? Yeah, Vaike counts. From the minute he showed up on screen, I was dying over this muscle-bound fighter talking himself up and getting shot down by my favorite non-delicate princess. And he just keeps doing such outrageously stupid stuff like losing his damn weapon on the road how can you miss something like that sir??? He’s just such a fun guy and he’s always making me laugh, which is something I treasure in a character and which clinches a lot of my favorites.

Also, his supports are generally just so good? Despite being a total jock, he’s got such heartwarming ambitions, given that he came from the slums and joined the Shepherds in an attempt to lift his entire community out of that situation. On top of that, he’s just a really nice guy who looks out for the people around him, and even if he’s a little blunt in how he talks to people, he’s both honest and encouraging, doing his best to help where and how he can. He’s just such an enjoyable character and one who I never see enough of.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Hilariously it’s the other character you asked about (spoiler alert for the other half of this answer). I love Vaike and Maribelle as a couple, this very prim and proper noblewoman with a long and storied pedigree and enough manners to teach Miss Manners a thing or two falling for a man from the literal back streets who doesn’t know a ladle from a soup spoon. I love the way they balance each other, especially: Vaike gives Maribelle more insight into the common folk she wants to help as a member of the magistery court and makes her better able to engage with and help them; meanwhile, Maribelle has the funds and clout to help the village he came from get a better footing and lift itself up. And overall I just think their interactions are great, with Vaike being able to ignore Maribelle’s over-the-top dramatics and cut through to the real issues, while Maribelle can bring him down to earth when his ego gets a little too inflated. They just make for great partners that balance one another out and I love them together.

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Chrom and Sully! Honestly the idea of these three making trouble together is so great to me, and I feel like they would just egg each other on into increasingly daring and stupid antics if left to their own devices. Chrom is someone that Vaike really respects, which is why he challenges the prince so much and treats him as such a worthy rival, and I love the idea of them getting stronger together and pushing one another to new heights. And Sully is just great, I love the fact that she’s so much better with women than he is, and I feel like they would end up with a friendly rivalry of their own -- so having all of them together is just perfection.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

Look, Vaike does not get attention at all from fandom. He barely registers enough with people for there to be opinions, let alone popular ones. The idea that he deserves more attention is unpopular enough, I’m pretty sure -- but I stand by it, because he’s really fun to me and I really wish that more people would engage with his character.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

I kind of wish he’d just gotten more attention in general. I know that there are limitations to who can take focus, and Awakening doesn’t have a lot of room for extraneous stuff with how its story is built, but it would have been really nice to have more little moments with the characters outside of Supports, just seeing them doing things together and interacting. Vaike only got a few small moments to shine as a character right at the beginning, and then the focus shifted away to other people and things; I just wish we could have seen him shine more often.

and who could forget the noblest of Ylissean nobleladies

How do I feel about this character?

Oh, Maribelle. Maribelle is such a strange character for me because on a theoretical level I adore her -- she’s got such drive and passion and conviction, she literally wants to change the system to make things better for the masses! -- but her attitude drives me up the wall. I love her interactions with Lissa and how much she cares about her friends, but every time she’s dealing with someone that’s not nobility or royalty my irritation is boundless. The game, sadly, doesn’t do a really great job showing her growth into a more open and fair-minded person even in her supports, so I don’t usually care for her in canon, but in fanfiction (and especially Future Built where I can put in the real character work and show her change) I absolutely love her to bits she’s so great. She’s capable and talented and ambitious in a way that really could bring about changes for the better in Ylisse, and I’d be eager to see how she does it.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

I’ve already spoiled this part haha it’s Vaike. I love how they interact so much and honestly Brady just makes so much sense with Vaike as his dad? The gangster attitude, the rough language and casual way of speaking, coupled with a ton of noble knowledge -- he uses tea cozies it’s perfect -- just feel like the perfect mix of both parents.

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Lissa, obviously! Maribelle and Lissa are so great together, I love their friendship and how Maribelle will pull out literally all the stops for Lissa’s sake because Lissa was really the first person who gave her a chance and wanted to be her friend. Maribelle really shows how kind she can be when Lissa’s involved, and it’s really sweet to see; I just wish she’d do it more often with more people. Also, it’s really fun to think about her and Gaius eventually working through their issues and becoming friends and allies, and I deeply enjoy her friendship with Robin (primarily in Future Built, because I am in fact super biased).

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

Are. Are there popular Maribelle opinions? I don’t see much of her around, so I’d be pretty surprised to find out any...but I guess if I had to pick something, I’d say that I actually think she’s really prejudiced. Yes, she does want to help the common people, and that’s an incredibly admirable thing to do -- but the fact that she talks down to them constantly in her supports and makes it clear that she thinks she knows better than them (like trying to push new clothes onto Kellam despite how important his armor is to him). That’s a really, really bad attitude to have, and is antithetical to the work she claims she wants to do. She needs to work on that if she intends to get commoners to work with her: she has to be in their corner and support them, rather than expecting them to match her expectations, which is something that’s sadly not on display in canon.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

I really wish her supports had done a better job of showing her personal growth, rather than usually ending with a joke. Maribelle as a character has so much potential, especially considering her ambition to join the magistery court; it’s really a shame that so much of that is squandered by how poorly handled most of her conversations are. She never even gets a sweet moment with Brady, which I will forever be bitter about -- let them bond like so many of the other parents and children do! Let him play the violin for her! Let her be moved by the power of his performance! I just wish the game had bothered to do her justice.

Give Me a Character

#answered #anonymous #meme #fire emblem: awakening #vaike #maribelle #i love these two and i love them together #though i will be honest #future built is what really made me love maribelle #i wasn't a huge fan of her before i started digging deep in there #but she's such a great character and i love to see her shine #and vaike is just endlessly great i love him

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retroyousei · 4 years

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Some Retro Shojo Couples That Ended Up With Someone Else But Should’ve Ended Up Together Instead

•Jeudi/Alicia and Leonard (Alpen Rose)

In Alpen Rose, Jeudi searches for her parent’s whereabouts from Switzerland to France. Along her journey she makes many friends who help her. The one who helps her the most is Leonard Aschenbach, a famous genius musician who in fact was a family friend and knew her when they were little, before her amnesia. Their first encounter is interesting. Jeudi looks for a musician named “Aschenbach” and finding his adress, she break into his house, without him knowing. There she sees a young man who’s angry and ready to shot her she asks to see Mr. Aschenbach but he claims that he’s dead. After that, she immediately realises that he’s in fact him and that he was hiding his music from the Nazis. After saving her from the a French nobleman, they become friends. It’s true that Lundi is her sweetheart and he’s worth it too, but both in anime and in manga Jeudi passes the majority of the story with Leonard, having many adventures and helping other people too, so you get more attached with the idea of their ending up together. Also, it’s clearly that he’s in love with her and there are some hints that she likes him too. Their chemistry and their simultaneity is undeniable. Too bad that they missed out their chance.

•Usagi and Seiya (Sailor Moon)

In “Stars”, the fifth and the final arc of Sailor Moon, Mamoru goes to America for one year to study. Usagi feels very lonely that her future husband is away, but as the first year of high school starts, things are going to change, as popular idol band of three musicians called “Starlights” transferred in their school. The girls are all excited of getting to know them, but Usagi doesn’t pay them much attention. That’s until she accidentally meets with Seiya, the leader of the band and her first Impression is certainly negative, as she finds him annoying, while he fell in love before they even meet properly. Eventually they grow closer and their chemistry is (also) undeniable. He understands her feelings (or tries to) and she likes him very much too, but she already has a boyfriend, so she can’t do anything. Later it’s revealed that Starlights are Sailor Senshis and in fact...women, at least in the manga. In the anime they are guys in their human forms and become women only in their Sailor Senshi forms. At the end Usagi ends up of course with her soulmate Mamoru. The problem is that in the anime, after the two first seasons, Usagi and Mamoru’s relationship becomes boring, as nothing much happens and it feels that Mamoru is insignificant and feels as if it’s his duty to love Usagi, while Usagi is an annoying girlfriend who constantly gets jealous. With Seiya, their relationship is much more interesting because he tries to bring the best out of her and they have much more things in common because they are in the same age. If things were different and everyone were normal teenagers, it could have worked out.

•Oscar and Fersen (The Rose of Versailles)

Just from where to start with these two? Oscar is the youngest daughter of the Jerjeyes family and is raised as a man, to be the commander of the Royal Guard. Fersen is the son a very important noble family from Sweden. Their first encounter was in a masquerade ball where Marie Antoinette went and Oscar had to followed her, as she was responsible for her safety. Fersen and Marie Antoinette met in a balcony and he took off her mask to see her face. Seeing this, Oscar became furious and she demanded his name and state, revealing that the one that he was talking to was the young dauphine, soon to be the queen of France. He was shocked. After a little while he visited Versailles chateau to meet Marie Antoinette and after an accident with a horse, causing the king to nearly kill Oscar and Andre, Fersen took the responsibility and demanded that if Oscar was to killed, he was to be killed too. Oscar admired his sense of justice. Later that day, he visited wounded Oscar and that was when he learned that she was in a fact a woman. After that he deeply admired her courage and stating that she is braver than most of men. Oscar and Fersen became good friends and shared many interests and opinions on many subjects. It didn’t take long for Oscar to realise that she was in love with him, just in time he had left for the American Revolution. After some years he returned and continued hanging out with Oscar, but he was in love with Marrie Antoinette. Oscar, being a good friend with both of them, agreed to help them contact each other, but as her love for Fersen grew more and more, so did her sorrow that her love was unrequited. There was even a ball, where she decided that she was going to attend it as a woman, being more beautiful than ever with a gorgeous dress and haircut. As soon as Fersen saw her, he so very charmed by her, that he forgot about Marie Antoinette and asked to dance with her. As they danced, he asked her where she was from and told her that she reminded him of a friend of him named Oscar, who dresses as a man, but she is in fact a beautiful woman. Oscar leaves the ball determined that she was ready to give him up. Later, Fersen realises Oscar’s feelings for him and said that his heart was aldready set on Marie Antoinette. After that, they rarely saw each other. It’s such a shame because they could’ve been a handsome and sensible couple of two great families. In the manga even Fersen’s sister Sofia stated that he could’ve been truly happy with Oscar and knew well that she had feelings for him. Eventually Oscar endes up with her childhood friend Andre. The problem is that, while in the manga they were romantic and persuasive as a couple, in the anime it seemed forced and compromised from Oscar’s perspective; as if the one she loved didn’t loved her back, so that was why she gave up and decided to stay with someone who loved her.

•Meiko and Satoshi (Marmalade Boy)

I know that repeating the same words is tiring, but I truly mean what I’m saying; Marmalade Boy is a great example of having many many supporting characters that are all very interesting and that their stories evolve in parallel with the main characters’. Meiko is Miki’s best friend, who’s mysterious and refined, while Satoshi is Yuu’s best friend who’s the president of the student council and a charmer. Meiko had an affair with Namora, a young teacher and believed that Satoshi like guys in her age are immature. After the scandal reveal of the romantic relationship between a student and a teacher, Namora quits his job and moves to Hiroshima. Meiko is very sad, believing that Namora is her soulmate. Satoshi has a crush on her that grows more and more and he constantly decides to win her over, first by flirting with her with hilarious ways. At some point, he pretended that he cut his hair because she said that he doesn’t like long hair in men. As the time went by he realises that she’s not buying anything he says, as she dislikes his playboy attitude, so he decided to let her show that he’s serious about her. Seeing that she enjoys reading, she encourages her to start writing and by trying to pursuade her to take place in a writing competition, she realises that she wants to become a writer. He even publish her story without her knowing because he had such a great faith in her that she was going to win and he was right. What’s more he always was there for her and he always made her laugh and bought out the best of her. And every time that she was sad or in trouble, he was the first person that she thought. Not to mention that they look great together. “The elegant and mysterious Meiko who teaches him to be more considerate” and “the happy go lucky and charmer Satoshi that teaches her to be more relaxed and open”. She just was more happy and at peace than ever. Eventually Namora contacted with Meiko again and Meiko went all the way to Hiroshima to make up with him. Satoshi chased after her and fought till the end, but Meiko chose Namora. Satoshi finally gave up because he loved her so and wanted for her to be happy. Meiko and Namora got married as soon as Meiko graduated from school and instead of going to college, she became a working young wife, who did some writing. Her character is such a wasted potential because she was very pretty, smart and refined. Satoshi helped her evolve as a person and was there for her, when Namora wasn’t. Had she ended up with Satoshi, she would have lead a much more wealthier life, she would have acted more her age, she would have studied more and generally she would’ve been happier.

#retro shojo #shojo manga #Alpen Rose #Sailor Moon #the rose of versailles #marmalade boy #Shōjo #anime ships

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undefined5posts · 4 years

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Credit: Jordan J. Lloyd

I've been trying to dive deeper into politics, discover the genuine roots of our society, the origins of our beliefs, and the consequences of our economic system. It's a big, long, wide journey and through multiple sources such as articles, images, videos and multiple social media platforms, I've been trying to educate myself more on important subjects.

Communism, capitalism, libertarian, conservative, the left, the right, the history, the impact. It is scary to commit to everything because once you start, you simply cannot stop, once you start waking up your conscience about the horrible reality, the lies, the truths, you cannot put it back to sleep. You can't just ignore prejudice, especially when you're extremely conscious of it's omnipresence. I have continually tried to build my own opinions all while actively creating bullet point arguments in my mind because I just know that at some point I will have to defend my thinking, and I want to do it right.

Now, I am so far from being enlightened, I am a beginner and an amateur in all of those themes, but I am trying, which is the only way to start and grow.

So to tell you about my beliefs, I am a militant human rights activist, I believe in equal opportunities regardless of gender identity, sex, religion, sexual orientation, ethnicity, race and disability. This is a fact, not a belief, but the system was obviously not built to protect all people, its wasn't created to serve everyone equally but to grant a privilege to some and harm others. The current state of the world is not a slip, an accident or a misfunction of our brilliant system but a testament of it operating remarkably well. I believe that equity leads to equality, and I believe that we cannot "fix" methodologies that were immorally created with absolutely no honor whatsoever. I believe in reproductive rights, in legal, safe abortions for anybody who needs one. I believe in the decriminalization of marijuana. I believe that the death penalty is a despicable punition that should be banned as soon as possible. I believe in defunding the police and the military. I believe that it is a shame that I even have to talk about police brutality, I don't want to have to say that it is one of the most horrible things our world has originated, I feel extremely dense when I do because it seems like the most obvious certitude and I refuse to believe that this is a controversial statement. I believe that everything I have just stated, along with many more, isn't anything grand but the bare minimum, the bar is low, and yet, we still have the fight for basic human decency.

Humanity has become an option. We have normalized supporting people that represent everything wrong in this world under the name of tolerance. The left has never claimed to be tolerant towards hateful beings, We have never accepted homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism and sexism. We cannot, for exemple, accept nazis, as too much tolerance inevitably leads to intolerance. This picture explains it perfectly:

I consider myself a communist/ socialist. The two terms still confuse me a little, some say they are the same, some say they differ quite a bit. What I know is that socialism is the transitional period between capitalism and communism. At the end of the day, the final result and goal is a stateless, moneyless and clasless society that will provide to each his need.

Our capitalistic society has brainwashed us way more than you may think. It is the root of so many of our issues, the underground demon of our problems. Every idea, thought, belief, and misconception of ours were all affected by our current economic system. It has sold us the billionnaire dream which is one of the most toxic things capitalism has offered. We have looked up to billionaires for way too long, why are they so idolized? Most of them come from high upper class families that can easily afford to invest in their inventions and creations. After starting up their companies and occasionnaly stealing other's people ideas to ultimately get undeserved merit, they then can start to properly exploit their hardworking employees's labour. And for unlimited hours and a minimum wage which probably won't even suffice you to survive, you will have to either pick up more shifts or a second or even third job, especially if you have a family to support. All while the CEO barely does any of the work and gets all the praise and money. So no, they don't all come from really poor families and have built everything for nothing.

The worst thing is that we've been so gaslit and brainwashed that we're proud of our own exploitation, we are wired to think that to be successful we have to suffer, work 10 jobs we all hate, constantly pick up extra hours, have 2 hours of sleep, have no free time to do anything we love, waste our entire youth, be depressed our entire adulthood, to finally have a few pennies to spend when we're eighty. We so strongly believe that this is the only right way to be successful that I don't think many of us have dared to question it's authority, and even if we do, we quickly accept that this a truth, a fact we cannot change and this is just the way things are.

We have capitalized water, food, land, forests, oceans, space, and everything in betweeen. Money is social construct and we have deliberately let it take over our lives. To think about the wasted opportunities and the misery that we have to endure so others can enjoy life truly angers me.

Also, communism is not an ideology that has every actually taken place. Despite what they say, there was never actually a communist country. However, every nation that has attempted a socialist system, for exemple Burkina Faso, has thrived. But of course, once capitalist countries noticed that, they decided to murder it's leader. So in conclusion, the only reason socialism failed is because of capitalism and it's interventions.

"As President (1983-1987), Sankara initiated economic reforms that shifted his country away from dependence on foreign aid and reduced the privileges of government officials; he cut salaries, including his own, decreed that there would be no more flying in first class or driving Mercedes as standard issue vehicles for Ministers and other government workers. He led a modest lifestyle and did not personally amass material wealth. President Sankara encouraged self-sufficiency, including the use of local resources to build clinics, schools and other needed infrastructure. [...] President Sankara promoted land reform, childhood vaccination, tree planting, communal school building, and nation-wide literacy campaigns. He was committed to gender equity and women’s rights and was the first African leader to publicly recognize the AIDS pandemic as a threat to African countries. Although Sankara became somewhat more authoritarian during his Presidency, his ideas, and the possibility that they could spread, were viewed by many as posing the greatest threat. President Sankara was assassinated during a coup led by a French-backed politician, Blaise Compaoré, in October 1987. Compaoré served as the President of Burkina Faso from October 1987 through October 2014, when he himself was overthrown."

Via:https://africandevelopmentsuccesses.wordpress.com/2015/02/28/success-story-from-burkina-faso-thomas-sankaras-legacy/

I have been reading and watching some amazing human rights activists, notably Angela Davis, Malcolm X and James Baldwin. The people that were villainized, labeled as violent and radical, when every single word that came out of their mouhs were pure facts. They are probably some of the most eloquent people I have had the pleasure of hearing. Every sentence, every argument, every single detail made so much sense and opened my mind to so many new realizations. This is the perfect exemple of how the media tarnishes the reputation of wise black women and men. I would strongly advise you to research more about them.

"Socialism & communism are demonized in the west to the point of erasing influential individuals' socialist advocacy. Heres a short list of people you may not have known were socialists/ communists:

MLK

Albert Einstein

Nelson Mandela

Frida Kahlo

Tupac Shakur

Mark Twain

Malcom X

Oscar Wilde

Bertrand Russell

Hellen Keller

Pablo Picasso

George Orwell

Shia LaBeouf

John Lennon

Woody Guthrie

Socialism & communism are not dirty words. Some of the most brilliant minds of our history were socialists and communists. Embrace it." Via @sleepisocialist on twitter

So what else can I say, capitalism has ruined our society and the way we act and think. I know a lot of people refuse to support communism because they think it's too much of a perfect ideal utopian world for it to ever actually exist. And to that I say, first of all, so you agree, it is a wonderful theory, and second of all, a world without racism, sexism, homophobia or any kind or discrimination could also be perceived as "too ideal to actually exist", but does that mean I'm giving up on talking, educating myself and others, protesting and trying to build a better future? Absolutely not. This is the objective, it would be so dumb to think that we just couldn't achieve that so let's not even try.

I want to talk more in detail about communism, theory, human rights, etc... but I don't want to make this post any longer. I will however be posting more about it soon enough.

I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I want to speak, tell you all my own opinions, I don't want to just repost activism related stuff. I'll continue to do that, but not exclusively. I know it won't get as many interactions as my other posts, but this is what I needed at some point in my life, and if I could make understanding some basic informations easier to some people, it'll already be a great accomplishment.

Thank you for reading.

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onisiondrama · 4 years

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(Note 1: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those. Note 2: This is just a summary of Onision / James’ video plus screen shots from his video. I’m not accusing anyone or defending anyone. These are James’ accusations.)

“Onision's Dad: Randy Daniel (Pathological Liar & Child Abuser)” Speaks, December 19, 2020 - SUMMARY PART 1

- James shows the Newsweek article where his father was interviewed. He points out the author / interviewer, Steven Asarch, no longer works for Newsweek (James says he was fired, but idk if he was fired or let go). He says Steven has no integrity and his research is bare minimum. He reads his tweets to Steven and says Steven never replied. He points out Steven replied to someone with 8 followers, but not to himself who has 258k followers. James says Steven is openly defending the statements of a pedophile, his father. - James says he warned everyone about Shane and he was publicly lynched, but he was right. He plays a clip from his old debate with Lucidia about Shane. He says the woman openly defended Shane calling a 6 year old girl’s Instagram as “sexy.” He says you people are crazy and you’ll defend anything he’s against, even if they are pedophiles. - He starts reading from the article. (His dad has a Samoan daughter story.) The article says she is Deborah (Randy’s wife)’s oldest stepdaughter. He says if she’s the oldest, his father either had her before he got with his mom or when he was with his mom, so Randy allegedly cheated on his mom. - He points out the article says “an FBI investigation may have started.” He says if the FBI looked into it remotely, they would see there was no grooming and he was actually sexually extorted by and 18 1/2 year old. He plays clips from this video. [Link is to my summary with screen shots.] - The article says he uses copyright claims about any videos mentioning him. James says that’s not true. You can talk about him all you want, he can’t claim videos where people just talk about him. [As opposed to people who show his clips under Fair Use. 🙄] He shows an email to show what Youtube sends him if they don’t agree with his copyright claim:

- He says anyone who says he falsely copyright claimed them are full of crap because Youtube filters that stuff and reject you if it’s not valid. [That’s a ridiculous argument. Youtube can’t manually review ever single copyright claim they get. That’s impossible. This is only for the false copyright claims they caught.] He says he proved Steven literally just slandered him. He says he already notified Newsweek the article is slanderous and they haven’t taken it down. He has ground to sue Newsweek if he wanted to. - The article says James’ drama eclipsed his own drama and his content blurs the lines between reality and James’ fiction. He says this guy is calling him a liar. [James admits to making fake drama videos all the time. Like the fake meltdown videos, the fake abuse video he made with Shiloh, the fake expose video with Cyr, the fake “I Betrayed My Wife Part x” videos, etc.] - The article says Chris Hansen interviewed 5 women who came forward. He says there were 3, but he never met the other two. He plays more clips from the video I already mentioned. He says none of them were children. - He reads some quotes Randy said about him. He lists things Randy was accused of:

- He says his father violated a child. He says when he asked the person who was violated about it, they changed the subject. That’s how traumatized they were. He says that’s how actual victims act. He says she was 7 at the time and his mom put her in therapy. He says he’s not sure why his mother didn’t go to the police.

- He reads a quote from Deborah where she says James bullies and harasses people who speak out against him. He says you have to defend yourself from slander.

- He says he has no fascination with “young girls” in response to another quote from Deborah. He says he has an 18+ only forum and Discord. He avoids young girls. He says Deborah is married to a pedophile. He says he hasn’t seen Deborah and Randy in 16 years and he hasn’t lived with them since he was 15. He says 2 60-year-olds are crapping on a 15-year-old. - He reacts more to the details of Randy’s relationships with his mom and their kids. He says Randy used to shame him and his sister if they didn’t say “I love you too” back to him over the phone. - James says a family member of his cried in-front of him talking about how they were violated by Randy when James’ mom was sleeping. He says Randy shoved his hand and penetrated the woman. He says the woman had no reason to lie, but Randy is getting clout.

- He says Deborah spanked him like a creep. He says she would lift her hand and set / pat it on his bottom while counting. He says she was groping him on the butt. - He reads Randy wanted to give up. He says Deborah just admitted his father wanted to give up on his three children. He says these people are so dumb. - He says the only thing his father did was send him a request to talk to him on LinkedIn after he stopped talking to Randy. - James says here’s where we get to the big lie. The article says James lived with them when he was 17. James’ big reveal is that he was 15 when he lived with them. He says his dad says he was 17 to make himself look less like a child abuser. He shows his college course transcripts to prove it. He took college courses at a college in Washington state while in high school after he lived with his Father. He shows google maps of his high school and college to prove they were in Washington state. He shows the route he would rollerblade from his high school to his college. He points out the church where behind it he lost his virginity when he was 14. He says his father is a pathological liar and his wife is basically a Lannister. - He says he would play the Nine In Nail song “god is dead and no one cars” to mess with their Christian values. He would go to church with them and was cool about that. (Julia story) - He reads a quote that says he threatened to burn down their house a couple of times. He says their house was really nice and beautiful. He always loved their house. If he could visit the house and not them, that would be preferable. He asks why he would burn down a beautiful house. He says he asked someone he knew for 9 years (probably Kai) if they ever remember him threatening to burn anything down and they said no. - He says he once went to his neighbor because his neighbor was starting crap and filming him. James told his neighbor if something happened to a neighbor, you would want your neighbors to help, like if a house burned down. The neighbor asked if he was threatening to burn his house down. James said no, he meant if your house was damaged and had nowhere to stay, you would want your neighbors to be there for you. He says the neighbor said, “oh, ok.” He says threatening to burn people’s houses down is a crime, but neighbors need to know they need to be there to support each other. He said his neighbor was trying to hurt him, so he told them to knock on his door if they have a problem. Don’t send videos to idiots online. [The neighbor worked for the Fish & Wildlife department for the county and reported James to the county when he saw his using heavy machinery on protected land. People online got the video because it was publicly available on the county website.] James says he was doing yardwork too close to the water and he removed plants that made his kids cry. He swears on his own life he never threatened to burn down a house. - He says he never yelled and called Randy and Deborah names. He only called Deborah an “F-ing B” before Randy started choking him because she prevented him from being with his girlfriend that weekend. He says you know how teenage boys can be about not being able to be with their girlfriend. - He says Randy called the police on him because he didn’t want to eat dinner with them, not because he was yelling and cursing like they said in the article. He says you can probably look up the police report. He gives the location and says it was late 2001. He says he had a smirk on his face when the police showed up because he thought it was so ridiculous. Randy says it was escalating and he was afraid there would be a physical altercation. James says he had just beaten Randy down so bad he looked like a whopped dog. He says Randy looked like he was constantly afraid of him.

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quagmireisadora · 5 years

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[Jonghyun / Taemin] After the Fire

Prompt: A is a struggling writer going through a creative block, until B literally crashes into their life, claiming that they are a modern-day muse. Rating: R-ish(?) Warnings: some explicit descriptions Length: ~10,000

Summary: Drawn to danger, I burned my own house down.

(Written as part of the Winter of SHINee fic fest. Please go support all the entries there)

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“... we thank you for your manuscript and applaud your efforts in completing another book. Unfortunately, it is not quite in the vein of what we are looking for. Please stay in touch for…”

In Jonghyun’s eyes, there is only one way to construe the letter—your stuff isn't sexy enough.

He knows the standards the publication house upholds. When he’d first applied to write for them, presenting a short story full of elucidated gasps and pants and whatnot: he’d done his research. The other writers and their works are miles apart from what he could ever produce. Those books are too salacious, too irreverent for him to match.

So, he knows there is a yardstick, and that he is required to be faithful to it, if he must help retain their astronomically high readership.

Honestly, though… the only reason Jonghyun writes erotic literature is because it is easy money.

Coming straight out of college, he first tried his hand at working for obscure webzines. That was a very weird, isolating experience. His colleagues were constantly embroiled in intellectual and cultural debates, the likes of which a man of his upbringing could never participate in—the elegance of noir films, the chaos of punk history, the artful French New Wave. Not only did these subjects evolve outside the barriers he grew up between, the webzines’ subscribers were largely foreigners, rendering a monolinguistic man like him… well. Useless.

Following this, he’d done a stint at small, virtually unknown publications. He’d written largely ignored thought pieces for national papers. He’d even submitted the less embarrassing specimens of his attempted poetry to the Metropolitan office of which, none were imprinted on subway doors. Yet.

To the interested employer, his CV reads like a grocery list of jobs: I did everything I possibly could with my mediocre talent, just so I could earn a living. And he doesn't mind that—encourages that thought, in fact. It is Jonghyun's earnest belief that only by downplaying his past professional experiences will he ever get a step ahead, climb a rung higher. It is also Jonghyun's earnest belief that dream jobs do not exist and, in this economy at least, settling is a good idea when you have qualifications as meaningless as his.

So no, he doesn't turn any work down. Nothing is beneath him. And that attitude has led him here—to writing cheap erotica for easy money.

Except, Jonghyun hasn't a single erotic bone in his body.

He is a man, most certainly. Red-blooded as they come. But something about writing down the act, about describing it in the most colourful and drawn-out details... femininity must surely be a prerequisite, he thinks. To notice the way that things look or sound or feel or taste in those short moments. To recreate that passion, that ecstasy, that urgency with paragraph upon paragraph of meticulous and explicit narration: one must need a very observative mind. Or a hyperactive imagination. Because something that lasts just a few minutes from his perspective, can only be recreated with such intensity if it were a woman on the other side of the pen.

So no, Jonghyun doesn't do sexy. Despite having penned three short novels, all with the reluctant perusal of internet porn, he doesn’t do sexy. He doesn’t do softcore, he doesn’t do taboo or wild or… anything, really. He just isn't capable of indelicacy like that. He reasons he can probably try romantic, but that’s not what this specific job entails, does it? No, and the letter is good evidence of that, he realises, stowing his last manuscript away for recycling.

Where sexual depravity is concerned, Jonghyun is running on empty. And if things don't change soon, his bank account will too.

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His mother doesn't know, of course. She thinks her poor son, her youngest baby, is so deeply mired in the nine-to-five that he doesn't even have time to visit these days. Writing is time-consuming. Writing entire novels, even more so. He doesn’t tell her what his job is, though. He keeps it vague. I’m working at an office. I’m working for a big company. I’m working in a building on Saemunan-ro.

As common a name as Kim Jonghyun is, a pseudonym is useful in many ways, he realises. He doesn’t get strange calls from distant relatives, demanding what the hell does he think he’s doing, while ignoring the fact that they went looking for erotica in the first place. He doesn’t have his young cousins approach him with was that really you, hyung? or can we get an early copy of your next one? His friends and ex-associates don’t have a clue. He would like to keep it that way: Minho already gives him a hard time about growing into an old shut-in, if he had the faintest idea of what was going on behind those closed doors and drawn curtains… Minho would no longer be a friend, Jonghyun wagers with shame.

Even so, the question of inspired writing—if he can call it that—still remains. Rather, the question of how he will pay next month’s rent, how he will settle the stack of overdue power and internet and water bills, still remains. Seoul is an expensive city to live in by oneself, and he cannot move back under the same roof as his mother and sister, not with a scandalous job like this.

At this point he has no way of stimulating his mind without resorting to stealing from other writers.

And so, the idea of a fan-meeting event is a sort of lifeline. He figures it could help if people show appreciation for his work: even if those people are wild-eyed and pimple-faced oily young men who should be ashamed of themselves, his morality yells wordlessly. But he is no one to judge. And if they prove to be a motivation, if they can help him get out of his block, then all the morality in the world can go to hell.

The event isn’t as clandestine as he imagines it to be, either. Outside the venue is a board yelling out a “SHIN YUN BOK PUBLICATION AUTHORS’ CONVENTION”. The doors are wide open. The sound of chatter, the smell of food, the murmur of excitement, all floats out to the lobby just outside.

When he enters, his face obscured by a surgical mask and a large pair of sunglasses, the place is packed. A man is on stage, calling out polite directions for crowd control. Jonghyun recognises him as his employer. Or at least, he is the guy who interviewed him over a grainy skype call late one night. He self-consciously checks his disguise and walks deeper into the fray.

A semi-circle of tables is arranged around the hall, each nominated to a writer. Upon studying the occupied seats, Jonghyun’s premise is solidified when he realises eight out of ten appear to be women. Somehow, this information impresses him.

When he ducks under the ropes and is stopped by a security guard, he points at the only empty table in wordless explanation. Some awkwardness ensues: a request for ID, a weary denial on the basis that pseudonyms aren’t on any ID, a quick consultation by text message, an unenthusiastic “OK, sir. This way, please.” Soon after, Jonghyun has taken his place and assumes the target of many pairs of staring eyes in the room. Some point and snicker, some watch him awestruck, some even take photos. Selcas! Like he is some sort of celebrity! He feels uneasy and oddly vulnerable, fidgeting with his sunglasses as they threaten to slip on the sweat beading his face.

But when the doors are finally shut and the event declared open, Jonghyun’s jealousy soars.

There are lengthy, winding lines of people waiting to speak to nearly all the other writers--but not him. No one approaches him. Not for the first ten minutes, not for the next half hour. In spite of all the staring from before, no one wants to speak with him. No one is interested in getting his signature.

It is only now, at such a place and such a time, that a series of paranoid questions fills his head. Does anyone read his books? Does anybody like them? Is he not popular? Is his work insignificant, even in circles like these?

If the number of people dying to speak with the others is anything to go by… then no. Jonghyun is not in the least bit popular.

He overhears his neighbour chuckle to say things like, of course there is a sequel coming out or yes, I based that character on myself. There are squeals, there are gasps, there is enough veneration to drown Jonghyun in self-pity. Suddenly, he wishes for that love and admiration. He wishes someone would ask him interesting questions and expect fascinating answers; dote on him just the way they dote on the rest of the panel.

His jealousy is poisonous enough that it spreads through his blood. His eyes burn with it, his pulse throbs against it, he feels it bristle in and out of his nostrils with every breath. His sweat begins to sting. His solitude starts to prick. His confidence dwindles to nearly nothing. The weight of envy makes him slide lower and lower into his seat. He plays with his marker and acts nonchalant. Acts like he is unaffected. But in truth he feels like crying. He feels like going home. He feels like quitting--

When his latest book is suddenly slammed onto the table, he yells and jumps a foot off his seat. Eyes turn to him again, this time with thinly veiled distaste rather than disinterest. He looks up at his assailant to find a lanky young man donning fashionable sunglasses and equally fashionable clothes.

“Sign, please,” the guy says in a tone that borders on demanding.

------

What surprises Jonghyun isn’t the fact that he has a “fan” in someone like Lee Taemin, as he introduces himself later. It is more astonishing to him that other people immediately follow his example and accost Jonghyun with copies of his work—some that look well used and dog-eared to the point that he is afraid to touch them. More and more readers who claim to love his writing flock over, while this Taemin character stands by. Silent, watchful, critical.

As he doles out autograph after rushed autograph, Jonghyun can’t for the life of him understand how the situation reversed itself in the blink of an eye.

“Uh… thank you?” he expresses uncertain gratitude. “I was. Surprised.”

“Mm hmm, so what do you want to do next?” the guy counters, folding up the sleeves of his baggy tee-shirt. The crowds have long dissipated. Security has rounded up all the stragglers, even the rowdy ones trying to get too close to that overly popular writer who went by the penname of Eonsook. But no one seems bothered by Taemin. No one cares that he is still here, still engaging in lazy conversation, going at his own pace. Everything about this is so peculiar. Everything is the opposite of his expectations.

“Well, I was about to go home and eat dinner, so—”

“I meant,” an exasperated look berates him. “What do you want to do for your next project?”

There is no answer for that. Jonghyun doesn’t plan these things out. He sits in front of the screen and starts to pour things onto it until he realises none of it is usable. Then he gives up. Rinse, repeat.

But he is expected to answer now. He is expected to say something rooted in a fully formed thought. He is expected to answer this man, this person who appeared out of nowhere and somehow managed to single-handedly create the interest Jonghyun was looking forward to. So, is there also an expected answer? Is there a right and a wrong response? Should he take the question as a cue to say something else, something scripted for such interactions? He doesn’t know.

He settles for a vague, “Uhm, is there anything in particular that Taemin ssi likes to read?” If he has learnt something from his time writing about politics, it is this: the best answer to a difficult question is another question.

An indifferent shrug replies. “Don’t really care. As long as there’s sex in it.”

He’d make a great politician, Jonghyun thinks as he starts to gather his things. “Well. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to satisfy you, then,” he gestures around them at the nearly vacated hall.

The man on the stage waves to him, he waves back. They will probably speak on the phone later on, and Jonghyun will bombard him with questions.

“But I like what you write,” Taemin continues, drawing is attention back. Physically holding his chin and turning his face so they are looking at each other again. “I want you to write more. Much more. A series!” there is a hint of excitement on those puffy lips.

Jonghyun knows not to aggravate people like him. People who are probably more dangerous than they appear to be. He takes a cautious step back. “I… I wish I could, sir. But you see—”

“I’ll pay you to do it.” A sure motion pulls an expensive-looking wallet out. A wad of cash is counted before nearly all of it is set onto the table. “An advance. I’ll give you three times that when you’ve finished the first draft. How about it?”

He stares at the fan of ten thousand won notes. Rent, he reminds himself. You must pay rent by the end of next week. But what the hell is he going to write?! “Sir, I’m… I’m really very sorry. I don’t have any plans to write the next book and. And I’m not even sure what to write so—”

“I’ll help with that,” Taemin insists. “You need ideas, I’ll give you all the ideas you need. I’ll… I’ll be your muse,” he decides.

Jonghyun stares for a long uneasy moment. Where is security and why aren’t they doing anything? he wonders. He takes another step to back away from the weird man. But the money is right there, perfect bright green rectangles that seem to have come fresh out of the mint. The overlapping portraits of Sejong the Great are all pleading with him to be pocketed. Just say yes! the king is shouting out, even in that placid gaze. You don’t have to follow through, just take the money and run! He can’t find you, anyway!

No. That would be disingenuous. That wouldn’t be right. No matter how desperate his situation, Jonghyun would never resort to thievery. He shakes his head and stays his hand, making no move to accept the money.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you, Taemin ssi,” he bows and rushes off.

------

Their story begins and ends at Namdaemun.

She looks at its sombre face, artillery fire still marking some of its masonry and disrupting the course of the story. Their story. It is the gate that reaches out for a hug, she thinks when a cold wind picks up and threatens to swoop her shivering self away. It is the gate that offers an embrace, arms angling out from its stiff middle, like a father consoling his sad and broken child. How odd it looked in its place. How quaint, to be the only survivor of its own story. No more kings roam under its elegant archway. No more guards train their arrows from the pagoda. No more tigers rustle nearby under the cover of trees, desperate to find a meal.

This gate… this thing. It shouldn't be here. But someone has shown it their kindness and tended to it; fed it with mortar and concrete and newly painted timber. Someone has seen fit to breathe new life into it.

Their story begins and ends here.

She met him once, then many times, upon the tufts of grass framing Namdaemun. She met him and with every meeting the distance between them diminished from feet to inches to barely anything. She met him, met all of him, met every place on him with every place on herself. His hands would smell of spice. Of coal and heat and rain… perhaps he tended to a garden in their time apart. He had the gentlest hands. When he touched her, they felt like lamps against her skin. His warmth would intoxicate her.

Maybe he was made of fire, she would wonder in the hours they lay next to each other, breath stuttering and pulse racing. Maybe he was a jinn.

“You’re not small enough to fit in a lamp,” she would tease him when they'd stumble over each other.

In her loneliness, she’d dream of him, floating on clouds made of cotton. She'd imagine him traveling from land to unknown land and sea to unending sea. She would imagine him soaring, his skin burnished and his eyes like bronze.

But he is long gone, now. He has left her side and his hands warm someone else's days. She is the survivor of her own story. She is a stiff gate looking for someone to embrace, someone to comfort. She endures, just as Namdaemun endures. They stay and they wait, the gate and her, in the hope that someday there will be a finale to their respective stories.

And then they will breathe a unified sigh of relief.

------

Jonghyun supposes it would’ve been wise to expect a second meeting.

He is still shocked when the time comes: a buzz from downstairs, a murmured excuse about routine maintenance, a knock on the door that sounds far too eager to be just pest control.

When he opens the door to find the familiar lanky frame, he panics. There are no more disguises obscuring the distance between them now. Each man is plainly visible to the other. Jonghyun feels caught. Trapped, like a wild animal hunted until metal teeth closed around his leg. He frantically searches for something to hide behind, forgetting that he could simply shut the door again.

The creepy man named Lee Taemin invites himself in. He saunters casually, ambling the length of the hallway, looking around the room and humming, appraising it, measuring it. Measuring Jonghyun, who is still shocked and unable to react in a way that protects him.

“Wh-what’re you—?!” he begins when some of the shock has worn off.

“You don’t make a lot of money, do you?” Taemin cuts him off. “Why don’t you accept my offer? I’ll pay you plenty. More than you’ve probably ever seen. Then you can move out of this dump.” Even as he says this, he runs an appreciative hand over a row of books. “I can help you realise all your dreams, you know?”

“How did you even find me?!” Jonghyun counters.

“Does it matter?” the other drawls, shaking his head in exasperation. He swings his arms around himself as he walks, and when his palms meet, he lets them clap together. Like he’s out on a relaxing stroll in the park. Everything about the setting is preposterous. “I tracked you down, now I’m here, and I’m giving you a second chance. Isn’t that what’s important?”

He stares, trying to figure out this puzzle of a human being. What is this guy? How is he so at ease right now? What is this game he’s playing and why? Why with Jonghyun, of all people? Does everything out of his mouth sound like that? Like a simple fairy tale? I’ll do this, then you do this, then we’ll live happily ever after. Ridiculous!

He’s only ever seen people like that on dramas. Badly written and poorly acted dramas.

“Please leave,” Jonghyun requests, maintaining a formal tone despite all the peculiarity of the setup. “Or I'll call the police.”

Taemin clicks his tongue. “Not until you answer me.”

“Sir, I can’t be bought for no reason.”

“But I’m giving you a reason,” Taemin points out as if the concept is too difficult for Jonghyun to understand. Which it is. “I pay you, you write for me. I like what you write, I pay you to do more. It’s like…” he gestures, standing in the middle of the room, his stance oddly graceful and formidable at the same time. “Like when a king enjoyed an artist of his court and promised his patronage,” he illustrates. “That’s what we’ll be like.”

The smile on his face is a perfect representation of a magician’s. Maybe he is something of a trickster, Jonghyun thinks. Maybe he likes to put on a show and confuse people.

“The publication house already pays me,” he informs.

“After you finish the book,” he is challenged. It isn’t a lie, but how does this guy even know?1 “And only proportional to the sales. I’ll pay you regardless. In fact,” Taemin points. “I want you to write these books especially for me. My eyes only.”

So that’s it? Jonghyun wonders. Just a rich kid feeding his own kinks? He scoffs and rakes through his hair, sitting down at his desk to think.

He decides to consider it, because yes, he needs the money. Yes, he wants to stop living in fear of sleeping hungry. Yes, he doesn’t want to be destitute at the age of thirty-one, before he’s even had a real relationship, let alone marry and have kids.

But can he really uphold his end of a deal like that? Can he really write what this guy is expecting him to write?

“I’m not good at… at sexy things,” he finally declares, motioning with his hands as if to show they were empty. “I have to work very hard at it. I can’t do it the way the rest of the authors do, and—” he sighs, remembering the way crazed readers had flocked to everyone else’s tables. Remembering his sales numbers, and the words of the manager of the obscure bookstore as he complained about having to lug all the unsold copies back into storage.

Trash, he’d called them.

“Really, I’m not even sure why you came to me, when someone like… I don’t know. Eonsook? She’s the better choice, clearly.”

Taemin walks closer, his lips pursed like he is thinking of a convincing argument. Maybe he is, from the way his eyes are so focused and bright. There is an unbreakable determination in his every movement. He crouches in front of Jonghyun, sighing as he looks up.

“Your first book,” he begins. “A story about a man with a delusion. That he is in love with a woman. They fight, then they grow close together. And then, the man is cured through therapy. But,” he clicks his fingers. “His delusion has been passed to the woman. Brilliant idea,” he compliments. “Excellent writing. And yeah, sure, the sex stuff left a lot to be desired but…” he shrugs. “I liked the story. I liked that there was more to look forward to than just two people going at it. And you wrote to tell us that story, not to satisfy my needs, I could see that,” he assures. “So why not do more of that?”

Jonghyun gives a soft laugh despite himself. “Because that book sold less than a hundred copies. And the feedback was dismal—”

“Fuck the feedback,” Taemin shakes his head, a frown creasing his features. He looks young; too young to be involved in disreputable matters like this. Or… maybe at the perfect age to waste his time on such prurient endeavours. “Fuck what any of them think. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“And you do?” Jonghyun doesn’t mean to be so standoffish but he cannot help it. Here is a stranger, coming out of nowhere, to validate him and say nice things about his pathetic attempts at writing. Here is someone trying to convince him that sales don’t matter, popularity doesn’t matter, even the adoration of the readers doesn’t matter. Then what does? Jonghyun confronts with a scowl. What does this guy know?

Taemin chuckles. “All I know is this. I like everything you write.”

------

“This world is built on supply and demand,” Taemin explains.

He’s still here, hours later. By Jonghyun’s benevolence, of course. They are sitting on the floor, a laptop with a blank word document between them. The cursor is blinking… blinking incessantly. It taunts with each flicker.

Tell your story, Taemin said to him. Tell your story. Write it all down. Whatever you’re thinking of. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as your put it down in words.

Easy to say. Because try as he might, he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t even have the shadow of a beginning, forget the middle and the end. There is no story in his mind, no words waiting at his fingertips.

This is a waste of time.

Taemin continues regardless. “The readers of this kind of stuff... their lives are filled with disappointment. With reality. They want the impossible: sultry encounters, beautiful getaways, improbable scenarios. You see?” he signals like his words are shedding light on abstruse philosophical concepts. “They want what they can’t have. And writers like Eonsook understand that. They supply that demand. That's why she’s always making bestsellers.”

Jonghyun considers this for a moment, seeing some truth in those claims. He takes a look around his own apartment, eyes roving over the small desk and small sofa and small kitchen. It is a liveable space, he reckons. It is better than a half-basement, or a slum with toxic asbestos roofing and poor access. But he is aware that in the bigger picture, he is still poor. He is confined. He is restricted. He is at the bottom of a heavy and insurmountable hill.

Disaffection comes easily to people like him. And short of being on the wrong side of the law, there is only one way to be at ease with his circumstances.

To pretend.

“But you? You fuck everything up,” Taemin carries on, amusement in his features. “You take that supply-demand model and turn it on its head. You say, I decide what I'll write. I decide what I produce. This is my art, not my bread. This is more than a paycheck for me. This is more than a popularity contest for me. That's what I see you think, and…” he shakes his head, chuckling as he reclines on his palms. “I gotta say, I find that really ballsy.”

A small balloon of pride inflates Jonghyun’s chest at the words, to his own surprise. He shifts and clears his throat. “Th-that’s all well and fine, but… but it doesn’t help that no one will read my stories.”

“Tell me something,” the other contests. “Why did you start writing in the first place? And—” he holds up a finger between them. “Don’t tell me it’s for the money. You could do anything and earn money. Why this specifically?”

“W-well, because… because what else am I going to do with a major in—?”

“No,” another shake of the head stops him. “No. Don’t answer from up here,” Taemin taps his temple. “This isn’t about rationality. This is about how you feel. About why you feel that way. Give me the answer in here,” he reaches forward and pokes a finger into the centre of Jonghyun’s chest.

He stares at the perfectly shaped fingernail, at the faint pink that dissipates into flesh below the joint. Why does he write? What compels him to scribble on stray pieces of paper? What makes him put his thoughts down on phone notes? What is it that surges in his chest when he’s in the shower, when he’s about to go to sleep, when he’s listening to a beautifully sad song for the first time? What makes him write?

“I… I have a lot to say,” he concludes. It feels like an admission of guilt—freeing. Splitting the restraints he’d been struggling against for… perhaps, years. It is like a large weight has come off his shoulders and now he can stand up straight. Now he can float off the ground. Now he can fly. He sighs and closes his eyes. “I have a lot to say. About… everything. And I—” he shakes his head, looks up from the finger, glances at the blank screen, turns his attention to the face of someone who is listening. Someone who is here and who does not appear to be in any hurry to leave.

“I really want someone to listen.”

With a pleased smirk, Taemin tilts his head and nods. “So start talking.”

------

He wonders what sounds he would hear, if he were up on the moon.

Would he hear the distant roll of waves? The rushing and ebbing of tides, their froth effervescent in the shell of his ears, their folding and retreating as sharp as the feeling of sand between his toes. Would he hear the occasional beep of a passing space shuttle? Would he see the face of another human in the window of the craft as it zooms past, their hands mirroring a wave and their faces reflecting each other's smiles?

What would he hear in that vacuum?

Would he hear the patter of his heartbeat, like water dribbling off a tin roof to roll along the eaves and fall against leaves, touch the ground, seep into the earth and become lost? Would he hear it speeding and softening like the tides, waxing and waning like the moon, repeating itself over and over, spinning like the earth does, like the stars do, like this universe does? Or would he feel an urgency in his lungs, the frenzy to drink in as much breath as he could, to gather as much oxygen in each inhale and retain it until his sight shook and his hearing went dissonant and he realised that he could hear nothing on the moon?

Nothing?

Maybe it would be hope. Maybe he would hear the sound of unfiltered sunlight hitting his skin. Maybe he would hear the whisper of a solar wind playing with his hair. Maybe he would hear his smile, his happiness, his joy even in solitude like that. Maybe he would hear something like that. Maybe it would be melodious to his ears, maybe he would dance to it, on the ashen rigoleth, the dead and cracked surface of the moon. Maybe he would float from crater to crater and find himself repeating circles, large ellipses that never ended. No beginning and no end. Maybe he would hear the most perfect sounds that ever existed. Maybe he would hear the sonorous representation of heaven.

Maybe the moon is full of music.

------

Jonghyun stretches his arms and arches his back, rolling his neck tiredly. The light outside his windows has dimmed by a large degree. The sun has gone down hours ago, without his noticing. He blinks and feels around himself to reach for a light switch. An afterimage of the laptop screen remains in his vision for a while as he stands on complaining legs and ankles. A grumble in his stomach alerts him of the time. Dinner time.

“Taemin ssi…?” he calls out, rubbing his eyes. “Taemin—”

It takes him a moment to realise he is alone. “Eh?” he scratches his cheek, trying to recall the sound of the door opening and shutting. He can’t tell how long it has been since the other left. There are no traces of his visit, no discarded teacups, no dirty plates with crumbs, nothing. He checks the bedroom, the bathroom, just to be sure. But it’s true: he has been a bad host.

Jonghyun really has been doing nothing but writing.

Searching for his phone to type out an apology, he realises belatedly that he doesn’t have a contact saved under “Lee Taemin.” With a repentant pout, he hums to himself. Next time, he promises himself. I’ll make it up to him next time.

When he’s settled down in front of his laptop again, this time with a steaming bowl of kal-guksu, he makes a choked sound at how much he has typed. Scrolling through page upon page of a very coherent-looking storyline, a reverberating surprise runs its course through him. Did he really do all this? Was that guy really serious about all that stuff? Has his inspiration finally returned to him, after all this time, all these years?

A muse… he feels the hint of a smile playing under his cheeks. He has a muse.

“That… isn’t that something imaginary?” Minho asks him when he excitedly gushes about the encounter. “Like, something that old men used to think up so they could make paintings and all that?”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to call me old,” Jonghyun dismisses. They’re lying on Minho’s carpet, listening to music. The sun is streaming through tall slider doors, and the usual sound of traffic is absent on a Sunday morning like this. Even the shadows look blue, their hue fluid and sparkling like light bouncing off of water. He feels calm, he feels like he is cradled in a hammock. As they relax side-by-side and read off their phones, there is a plot swirling in the back of Jonghyun’s mind. It buzzes and stirs, waiting to break out and lay itself down in orderly lines and sentences. He nurses it, pets its back, scratches it between its ears. He gives it a name.

But it can wait.

“Look at this,” he scrolls through a namuwiki article on the Muses, holding it out for the other to see. “It says this famous novelist from America calls his bowling trophy a muse. Wah…! He’s written so many famous books!”

“He’s old, too,” Minho snorts before he’s swatted at by an annoyed Jonghyun. “OK, OK!” he defends. “OK. I get it. You have a muse. So, is she hot?” he grins and rolls onto his elbows, a happy glimmer in his large eyes. “Does she pose for you? Do you get to take her on dates? How does it work?”

“It’s a guy,” Jonghyun frowns.

“Really?” Minho hums, the slightest disenchantment pulling at his lips. “But it says here that muses are supposed to be beautiful women. Look,” he wrests the phone away from his friend and goes to the image section of the article.

His point is proven by several old and colourful depictions of elegantly posed women, loose garments draped over their voluptuous fronts. There is no hint of an awkward lanky male form in dark and brooding clothes that blend him into his bleak surroundings. The women’s expressions are calm and filled with wisdom, unlike Taemin’s youthful fervour. The only feature that is barely reminiscent of the young man are the dark, mystical eyes.

Something inside Jonghyun grows uneasy.

“I mean…” he shrugs, hoping to give an explanation. He doesn’t have one, not at that moment. He doesn’t know how to defend his experience. All he knows is a name, some very sound advice, and the promise of money… money he hasn’t yet received, mind. He realises he is dealing with a stranger, after all. That if he isn’t careful, his prefatory suspicions of Taemin being a dangerous guy might still come true.

“Look, why don’t I introduce the two of you when he visits again?” he offers as justification, trying to push the issue aside. “You’ll like him, he’s got an... entertaining sort of personality, you’ll see—”

“I have a better idea,” Minho rejects the response. “Why don’t you just let me read one of your books, eh? I searched for your name and nothing comes up, you know? Are you really getting published at all? Or are they just taking you for a ride and stealing your work—?”

“Let’s just,” Jonghyun holds his hands up between them. He feels alarmed at the turn their conversation has taken. “Look. Let’s talk about this later, OK?”

“Hyung…” Minho makes an exasperated face, but he’s a good friend. His words are rooted in concern. He slowly settles back onto the floor, giving up on his argument, intertwining their legs. The soothing sounds from his music system take over once again.

What remains is Jonghyun’s fear of losing a dear friend.

------

“Who are you, really?” he shoots his misgivings the first chance he gets.

It has been many weeks since their last meeting. He has been progressively furthering the new book, or whatever it turns out to be in the end. What first sat as an idea in his scribbled notes has grown tall and strong. He now has chapters, and multiple plotlines that diverge from and converge on each other. He has dialogues, he has beats, he has imagery, he has descriptions. He has woven all the ends to make one whole, one complete mass, one continuous flow. Things are coming together, and Jonghyun is amazed at his own progress.

But his gratitude doesn’t dilute his distrust.

As soon as he barges into the apartment, Taemin demands to read through whatever there is so far. For a long time, he sits reposed on the sofa: silent for once, interest wavering only when he is addressed.

“Huh?”

“Are you just some rich chaebol kid looking to spend his dad’s money? Is this… just fun for you?” Jonghyun expounds on the interrogation. There is some insecurity in his tone, some residual lack of confidence from previous encounters that have left him wounded. Even he can tell. But he continues, unabashed in his self-preservation. “All this… this muse stuff. What’s in it for you?”

“I told you,” Taemin offers an apathetic shrug. “I like your writing.”

“I thought you like books with lots of sex,” Jonghyun frowns and counters, pointing at the tablet in the other’s hold. “I don’t have any of that in there.”

“Are you planning on keeping it that way?”

“Well, I wasn’t really going to, but—wait, no, listen to me,” he is nearly distracted, and the momentary look of triumph on Taemin’s face leaves him flustered. “I need to know who you are. I need to know why you’re doing this, and I need to know now,” he places his ultimatum. “Or I’m not writing another word.”

Taemin sits up and releases a slow exhale. His gaze is amused. It roves over his host, appraising him like a teacher would a child on his first day of school.

“What if I don’t tell you?” he posits. It’s not a challenge. His tone is chatty, conversational. As if he’s asking, what if cars could fly. He leans forward and smiles that magician smile again. “What will it change, if you know? Is it going to fix your life? Is it going to rid you of all your problems? Is the world going to make sense?” he motions with his hands. “Of course not. So why do you want to know?”

“Because—!” Jonghyun wants to say it will sate his curiosity, but he can’t admit that. Something about that feels like a confession. He can’t speak his mind like that.

“Look, I like that you’re curious,” Taemin reads his mind anyway, still smiling. “I like that you want to learn about things you don’t understand. I think that’s important for a writer. But I think what’s more important is figuring out what the real question is.”

He blinks with confusion. “The real question…?” he shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re writing this thing,” the other waves the tablet. “And you’ve advanced really far into the storyline. Things are getting exciting, characters are finally starting to become full people I can be invested in. I can’t put this book down even if the house was burning,” he compliments. “But there’s something missing. And I can’t tell what it is, except that it exists. In there,” another poke into Jonghyun’s ribcage. “Maybe the question you should be asking then, is what is missing? What else do you need? What else is there for you to find?”

A clearing of the throat, a shift of the seat. Jonghyun won’t acknowledge it, but the words resonate with him.

Missing. Something is missing. Something needs to be found. Something is waiting to be discovered. Something that he requires to complete this story… or maybe complete himself. Something that once sat in an empty slot in his chest must be recovered. He doesn’t mean for the thought to be so profound. But it is that very same profoundness that makes him believe it’s probably true. Something is missing inside him. Something is missing from his life. Something is missing from his world. And he needs to find it.

“Will you help me look?” he entreats his muse.

A magnanimous stretch of the arms replies. “It’s what I’m here for,” Taemin grins and falls back onto the cushions, continuing to read.

------

They stand outside the apartment block and Jonghyun is still not sure about this.

“Look, I really don’t think—” he starts to beseech, but Taemin silences him with a wave of his hand. He clicks on one of the call buttons and a ring starts to go, only raising the panic in Jonghyun’s gut.

“Just meet with her,” the other persuades, rational as always.

When someone answers on the other side of the line, it’s as if his entire body freezes until he is nudged. “U-uhh… yes. M-my name is uh… I mean. That is—”

“Is this a prank call?” the woman asks with anger in her voice.

Another nudge shakes his senses up. “N-no…!” Jonghyun insists. “Uhm, we—you and I. We work for the same company. M-miss Eonsook.”

A long pause. Some rustling of cloth. Some whispered conversation in the background. Then the woman’s voice returns. “OK, come on up,” she finally acquiesces before a loud buzz swings the front door open.

“Go!” Taemin hisses at him, grinning wide under the dark sunglasses that have become his signature.

The building isn’t much different from Jonghyun’s own apartment block, but there is something lighter about everything. It feels… nicer. There are planters with pretty flowers along the corridor. The lifts are clean and fully functional. The walls are devoid of posters and advertisements. TV sets can be heard outside some of the doors, as can the whistle of pressure cookers and the nagging of mothers. The atmosphere is homely, welcoming. He doesn’t feel like he’s intruding on anything, so he continues to walk in confidently.

He reads the numbers on each unit as he passes by, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings and wishing Taemin were accompanying him.

When he’s at the door he was looking for, he rings the bell and waits.

The woman who answers him is somewhat recognizable. He remembers seeing the straight jet-black hair, the round jaw, the parrot-hooked nose, the no-nonsense stare. Even if he has never before glimpsed her puffy lips or heard her soft voice, he remembers her from the fan-meeting—and possibly from other occasions, when they bumped into each other at the publication office.

Nobody can tell she is one of the most popular writers in the country.

“Ah, hello,” he bows low and his sunglasses slip off his face to clatter to the ground. He scrambles to put them back on, but simply pockets the disguise when he notices the turn in her mouth. “M-my name is—”

“You must be the person who writes as Grapefruit,” she guesses correctly. Her diction holds a soft lisp. Barely there, unlike Minho’s often baby-like pronunciations. He blushes and nods at the floor in response to the question.

“Come in,” she invites him, the grille door swinging outwards.

Other than the ordinary-looking furnishings, her home is full of photos. As he pulls the surgical mask to his chin and wanders through the apartment, Jonghyun cannot help but study them all, turn by careful turn. All over the walls she has displayed pictures of herself, her family, her friends, and another woman. A sister, he guesses at first, before correcting himself when his eyes go to a shockingly intimate polaroid.

He doesn’t realize he is staring until he hears his host pointedly clear her throat.

“Some juice?” Eonsook offers the glass on a tray. He accepts and stands awkwardly for a few minutes, shifting from foot to foot.

“Y-you have a very nice place—” he begins.

“So,” Eonsook cuts him off, showing him a seat. “How can I help?”

“H-help?” he blinks, his thoughts clouded.

She raises her eyebrows, wets her lips, digs her teeth into the lower one. “It’s a polite way of asking why you’re here,” she clarifies. He can tell there is laughter waiting to bounce out of her throat. In everything she does, there is an underlying strain of confidence. She exudes it in waves that come off her and lap at his own chest, nearly pushing him back with their force.

“R-right! Yes, of course,” he jumbles with the glass in his hold, looking around for a moment before accepting the proffered seat. “I—I came to ask you for… for advice.”

She follows his example and sinks into an armchair, crossing her legs and watching him for a moment. A long and entertained moment. “Oh?”

“Y-yes…” he insists. “You see. I’m—I’m currently working on this book, and. And I’m at this part that I need to research before I write it. So…”

“What kind of part?” her interest is immediate.

He tries to think of a way to describe it, nervously scratching the back of his neck and fumbling with the collar of his tee shirt. He feels unreasonably nervous, cognizant of the sweat beginning to stream down his back. “W-well…” he tries.

“Is it a sexy part?” she asks.

“N-not really.”

“Hmm, I guessed as much,” she leans back into her chair. “I’ve read your work. You’re not much of an erotic writer, are you, Grapefruit ssi?” she sums him up with narrowed eyes. And yet, there isn’t any sign of malice in her observation. He glance is approving, in fact. Admiring. “Your stories are very different. Emotional. They’re for a very… cerebral audience. Is that always your intent?” she asks with some fascination in her gaze.

He blinks up at the ceiling, thinking of a genuine answer, not wanting to disappoint her for some nameless reason.

“No,” he concedes after a while. “I think it’s just… because of the kind of person I am. I think it requires me falling in love first before… before my characters fall in love.” He runs a finger over the rim of his condensate-covered glass, nodding contemplatively for a moment. “W-what about you?” he asks. “What is your intent? When you write, I mean.”

She hums, crossing her arms across her front. “Intent…” she hisses a breath in. “There doesn’t always have to be one, you know?” she says conversationally. “Like you said, we can feel very strongly about something, and then write about it. Tell a story around it. I think that’s possible,” she accepts. And when she smiles, he feels an odd sense of solidarity with her.

“What… what does Eonsook ssi feel strongly about?”

The woman smirks. “You were staring at her just now,” comes the simply reply. Accompanying it is the smooth motion of a hand coming up to support her chin, a ring glinting on its third finger.

Jonghyun bumbles an apology.

“There is nothing else I feel as strongly about,” she reveals. “There is no one I love as much, no one I care about as much, no one who matters to me as much. And so,” she holds out a hand between them. “I write about her. About us. I suppose…” she finishes with a grin, a clever gleam nestled in her eyes. “I suppose you can say she’s my muse.”

“A muse…!” Jonghyun’s heart runs on a treadmill at the words. “Do you think…” he begins, shifting forward in his seat. She mirrors the movement. “Do you think you could teach me? How you find the courage to tell your stories?” he requests.

“Courage?” Eonsook chuckles. “It doesn’t take courage to make people happy, Grapefruit ssi,” she shakes her head. “Because that is what we do. We ultimately make people happy with our work. They read it, they smile, they feel good. Maybe they forget about it after some time. Maybe some of it stays with them for years. Who knows?” she shrugs. “As long as we get them to smile.”

He feels awe at that. “As long as they smile…” he nods again, this time in understanding.

------

With every jump of his hips, he is filled with a murder of crows that flutter to the far edges of his body—to the villages settled in his fingertips and the townships developed in his toenails. With every jump of his hips the leaves inside him quiver from the force, as birds take to the skies between his stomach and lungs.

When they travel, when they journey through him, his sighs tell the tale of that journey. They sing like bards, reciting how the crows travel carrying messages tied to their feet. The sighs paint pictures of beaks pecking at his outer edges, his boundaries, his geographical territories. With every jump of his hips he is breaking those boundaries, violating the treaties that hold those borders sacred. With every jump, he is less self-contained, less of an uncontested dominion.

He secedes. He surrenders his independence. He lets himself be taken captive by the thrum of the man below him. Inside him.

With every jump of his hips, he abdicates the throne of his identity. He makes the other king. Gives his crown to another head. And the crows carry news of this shift in power to all the lands that were once under his reign. They carry the news, propelled by the sighs, released at every breath, every hitch, every gasp. Every jump.

In his own kingdom, he is now a pauper.

To have meaning, to be defined by a name and description—all this no longer applies to him. The other man has changed his definition. The other man has made him… not him. But if he is not himself, who is he? If he is not who he was born as, if he is no longer the man he introduced himself as, who is he? What is his name, now? What can he call himself? How will he present himself to strangers, if he is a stranger to his own self? If he looked himself up online, what would the results be? Would they just become strange unreadable symbols?

If he is not himself, then he does not exist: or, at least… this is what he has always thought to be true.

But now his hips jump, and his voice breaks, and he calls out a name that doesn’t belong to him. With every jump, he becomes a blurry existence.

------

They grow close, Eonsook and Jonghyun. They become friends.

She talks to him often, sometimes on the phone, other times over dinner. On a second visit to her apartment, he learns the other woman from the photos is Gwiboon, who talks a mile a minute and laughs like an erupting volcano. The two of them accept Jonghyun like he has always belonged in their life, always had a place in their home and their hearts. They are kind to him. They are kinder than most others have been.

Perhaps because there is nothing to hide from them. He doesn't have to lie about what he does for a living, doesn't have to make up stories about how he spends his free time. He doesn't have to shut his doors and draw his curtains with them. There is nothing to be ashamed of, in their company.

It's freeing.

Jonghyun continues to write, faster and longer than ever before. He writes like he breathes. He enjoys how uninhibited it makes him feel. He finds himself feeling more and more confident about this story, even going back to the rejected manuscript and making edits with a red marker. He meets Taemin at a café and spends most of the time scribbling in a notepad as they hide from other patrons in a corner booth.

With every page he writes, a mass of pride grows in his ribcage.

“So, what now?” Taemin asks him one afternoon, having finished the latest draft and giving it his seal of approval. “Where does the story go from here?”

“Hmm...” Jonghyun nurses a cup of coffee. It is early in the morning. He has been organising his books and wardrobe and even his thoughts while the other read. He has been carefully making his way through all that needs to be settled—in his writing and outside it.

“I could write some more about the way the characters feel. You know, build more plot buffer. Or,” he gives half a shrug. “I could. Resolve it in a certain way.”

“A certain way,” Taemin raises an eyebrow. “What way?”

“Well. They could. I don't know. Fall in love, and—” the other is vehemently shaking his head before Jonghyun even finishes his sentence. “What? Why not?!”

“Too forced,” Taemin disapproves. “It would just be pandering to your readers, when the story doesn’t naturally flow that way. Consider everything that’s happened. There is no justification for them falling in love. All they've done is meet a few times and exchange... banter.”

“Sometimes that's enough!” Jonghyun defends, then softens. “Is... is it not?”

“You tell me.”

“No, you tell me!” Jonghyun insists. “Is it not enough for them to know each other? To enjoy the company? To... to feel comfortable with each other? That should be enough sometimes, right? Wouldn't that be enough for you?”

“Is that the real question—?”

“Yes! Yes, it is!” Jonghyun shouts, and as he does, he is painfully aware of the fact that this is not how he had planned for this conversation to ensue. He is conscious of the fact that he has made it a confrontation rather than keeping it within the bounds of an emotional exchange. There is a feeling of being put under an unannounced spotlight, its glare harsh against his face. He breathes hard, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter before him, doubling over in preparation for the rest of his episode.

“Yes, it is,” he repeats in a quieter, gentler tone. When he straightens up, he stares at the other with pleading eyes.

“What am I to you?” he repeats with some desperation.

Taemin looks satisfied at the question, like he has been waiting a long time for it to emerge. He remains relaxed despite the friction, despite the anxiety in his host. He continues to smile like an illusionist, continues to watch like a judge. “Before I answer that,” he begins in a calm, collected voice. “And I will answer it. But before I do, I need to you to tell me first: what am I to you?”

The reaction enrages him. “No,” Jonghyun warns. “No. Enough games. Enough running around in circles. You’re never honest with me. You only talk about this… this shit!” he angrily motions at the tablet the other had been reading from. “You can’t avoid this anymore. You have to answer me now.” He holds a hand up between them and counts. “Who are you? Why are you helping me? What do I mean to you?”

“Hmm,” Taemin rocks back and forth. “You really want me to tell you?”

Jonghyun makes wide, aggravated motions. “Who else will—?!”

“You want me,” Taemin clarifies. “To tell you. Who I am,” he raises his eyebrows. “You really don’t know? Have you really not known? All this time?”

“That’s why I’m asking—!”

“No, you’re not,” the protest is cut off. “You’re asking because other people are asking: what does he do in there all day, who is he with, who is this muse he’s talking about all of a sudden. You’re asking because you need to give them an answer. An answer that isn’t really the answer,” the corner of Taemin’s lip turns up. “Isn’t it?”

“Wh-what…?” Jonghyun shakes his head, the hair on his arms standing on end.

Taemin skips off his stool, meanders around the counter, advances on him.

Jonghyun’s breath sounds like an elasticized gong. His inhales are like rubber bands, stretching on for hours and hours. He is buzzing, like he sits inside something alive. Inside a heart and the lights decorating Namdaemun at night are made of lamps that glow soft and warm as if someone is holding him in an embrace and showering him with solace while their eyes are speaking to him in a different tongue in a speech of a foreign land where jinn live and grant wishes and there is nothing to see for miles except murders of crows carrying messages on their feet telling the world that the empire has fallen the world is coming to an end and the—

------

Mapo bridge.

It talks to him. It asks how he is, if he’s eaten yet. It tells him to turn his head up and look at the blue sky once. It tells him it loves him. It tells him that the brightest moments in his life are yet to come.

Jonghyun cries hard enough that his body shakes from the force. Minho stands very close, looking worried and reaching out for a hug. But he is told to wait. Not yet. He is told to wait, Jonghyun will need him soon.

Words are everything he is. Words are his life and soul. His bone and sinew. His drifting days and sleepless nights. Words have created him, penned him down—not the other way around. They have built him up, bound his loose pages and given him a spine. They have made him Kim Jonghyun. They have made him a writer, a poet, an artist. They have made him what he is. And he would never have realised this, were it not for Taemin.

Were it not for himself.

“I write for myself,” he claims to the sad and bloated waters of the Han, knowing the other is listening. Somewhere. From within the crevasses of his mind, Taemin is listening. “I write for myself.” It is a heavy claim to make. It is heavy as lead. It is tied to Jonghyun's feet as he trains to run his ink across a coastline. The claim is heavy enough to need lugging around on his hipbone. It is heavy, it is full. Like an earthen pot spilling its contents.

His face is drenched when he speaks those hefty words, when he acknowledges them. He sobs and his fingers tighten on the rails of the bridge, the place he would often visit when he felt sad and alone. But he isn’t alone. Minho is here for him. Eonsook and Gwiboon wait in a car nearby. And Taemin.

Taemin exists in the beats of his pulse.

Behind him, traffic swishes past. In front of him, the river hushes his crying. “I write for myself,” he lets go of the full pot and watches it splash, watches its shards rock a little on the ground, after they've separated from the whole.

많이 힘들었구나

He touches the words of the bridge and nearly answers out loud. He nearly says yes. Yes. It was tiring. It was terrifyingly easy to give up on my dreams. He rocks a little in place and finally Minho gathers him into a tight hold, stroking circles on his back.

It was awful, Jonghyun wants to say. But I found him. I found myself. I found contentment. I found it. And now I can walk away from you saying yes. Yes, it was tiring. It was hard. But now my breath comes easily. My heart beats easily. My life runs easily. I am alive. I am free. I am happy.

I love myself.

#jongtae #long fic #shinee

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 5 years

Text

Amy Martinez (Character Sheet TV Tropes Style) U-Y

Uncanny Valley Girl: Has the appearance of a conventionally cute and upbeat school girl... who’s killed at least fifteen people to date, knows how to manipulate people and can display a callous, cheerfully psychotic side whenever she’s crossed.

Undying Loyalty: To her Coven, as they took her in after her parent’s death when Hero Society felt unable to and despite the atrocities and horrors she’s witnessed she’s fiercely protective and devoted to her coven and even sets out back to Japan to connect both the world of Witches and Heroes together so her kind wouldn’t be ostracized or demonized anymore.

Unstoppable Rage: After the culture festival, she goes into one of these and beats her teachers and Midoriya when they attempt to stop her. She’s only stopped when Midoriya starts crying and when Shinsou gives her a sad look and gently talks her down, followed by Cordelia.

Used To Be a Sweet Kid: Amy’s certainly still capable of being sweet, but she used to be a relatively stable, genuinely happy child who had yet to do anything horrible. In fact, the worst thing she did as a child was steal a bouncehouse so that way Shinsou could have one for his birthday party. In modern times, while she’s gradually improved and her sanity has strengthened, she’s still a troublemaker who performs much more lethal pranks and still participates in murder.

Violently Protective Girlfriend: She knows that Bakugo can take care of himself, but doesn’t stand for Madison taunting him, and beats the HELL out of two other witches who attack and threaten him.

Amy: Get the fuck away from my Katsuki you bitches!

Vitriolic Best Buds: With Midoriya and Iida mostly. She and Midoriya’s relationship was strained for a time during their first year in UA but slowly started to patch up over the course and while Amy still likes to tease Midoriya, he holds no ill will towards her and they have managed to rebuild their friendship and Amy still adores him despite everything.

She and Iida bicker nearly every single day and Amy pranks him constantly and gives him a hard time every chance she gets, but Iida still cares about Amy and looks after her, and Amy secretly appreciates him, respects him and cares about him enough to adhere to him at times.

Weak But Skilled: Amy’s an EXTREMELY gifted witch and knows how to use her powers and spells very well, but isn’t the most physically powerful girl nor is she as skilled in combat as others are.

We Want Our Jerk Back: Inverted, Amy’s always been something of a jerk but was still a cheerful, supportive and comical friend to her class, but when she leaves the class notes that it didn’t feel right without her and missed her immature sense of humor.

Also shown in the Internship arc where Amy does briefly return to intern with Endeavor along with Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki, only she’s apathetic, bored and downright emotionless and the three boys each make at least one attempt to see if a glimpse of her old self is still in there. With Bakugo outright demanding her to crack a smile or at least laugh or giggle as she always used to in the time he’s known her.

Weight Woe: Despite what she preaches about body positivity, Amy is actually very self-conscious about her weight which is why she wears considerably more conservative and modest clothing compared to her other female friends. Doesn’t help that she gains weight easily and can even fall into a depression when it becomes very apparent.

What The Hell Hero?: Midoriya gives her one of these when she acts callously after she and Bakugo are rescued and later during the Culture Festival where Amy refuses to partake in their class dance out of spite towards him. Amy later starts to give herself these when she realizes that she’s gone too far, particularly in having the intent of seriously harming Midoriya during a fight she wins.

Why Did It Have To Be Snakes?: Amy doesn’t have much phobias, but she IS afraid of seagulls for some reason, calling them the ‘devil’. She’s also terrified of cockroaches, centipedes and holes.

Wicked Witch: She at times acts like this, mostly just to troll her friends and scare them even though she DOES have some of the habits such as the evil cackle, penchant cats and wearing black and even lives in a mansion just outside the city.

Wife Basher-Basher: Amy doesn’t hesitate to threaten to personally murder and torture Endeavor if he ever raises a hand to Todoroki, his mother or any of his children again.

Wild Card: Amy’s on neither the heroes side or the villains side, but she IS on her coven’s side which means she does as she pleases, shows no obligation to UA or Hero Society and is there primarily for Shinsou’s sake and for the sake of battling other people to show off her powers. This becomes subverted when she develops strong friendships with her classmates, falls in love with Bakugo and makes friends with her classmates, especially Ashlen.

Witch Hunt: Was the victim of one even in Japan as witch hunters broke into her house, destroyed her home, killed her dog, burnt her mother to the stake and lynched her father. She was nearly burnt to the stake herself only for the Pro-Heroes to save her, but because they weren’t willing to care for her with the risk of other witch hunters infiltrating their society as well, Amy was forced to move to America with other witches, but the hunt didn’t stop there as her godmother’s husband was a witch hunter who nearly killed her and her other sisters until they were all killed by the Axemen. Amy states that witch hunters still exist and while the war may never end, that she and her sisters fight back more.

Woman In Black: Just like her sisters, Amy loves to wear black and adorns an all-black Hero Costume.

Woman Scorned: After Amy confesses that she’s in love with Midoriya, he doesn’t think she’s being serious and instead scolds her for her lack of cooperation in the Culture Festival and overall fluctuating attitude. Which leads to a big argument but when he calls her selfish and cruel, Amy completely loses it and challenges him to a fight out of nowhere, in which she lashes out her anger at him by beating him and spewing her now negative feelings towards him as she wins the fight. She gets over this thank goodness but it’s still something she’s not proud of.

Whenever Bakugo breaks up with her, she’s aggressive and cold to him and on worse days she’ll attack him with her telekinesis.

Women Are Wiser: Generally averted as Amy’s actually the least mature girl in Class A, but can display common sense when it’s needed.

Woobie, Destroyer Of Worlds: Amy might be a crazy, spiteful and wicked girl, but was forced to abandoned her best and only friend, including said best friend’s family who loved her like a daughter, and she felt rejected by her own society when they gave her away to strangers, didn’t even bother to check on her even though these strangers ended up indirectly exposing her to even more horrors that further traumatized her the point where she suffered nightmares, bullying from eve other witches and has contemplated suicide.

Would Hurt a Child: Implied but never shown. Amy notes that with children having superpowers now, that there’s not many lines to cross since their powers can be used to fight back and has no qualms roughing up younger kids should they piss her off.

Inverted also, Amy has no problems killing adults, nor did she have any issue in beating the shit out of her own teacher.

But also Averted. Despite Amy claiming that she will hit a child should they piss her off, she’s never actually done it. In fact, even when she disliked Eri, she did absolutely nothing to (physically) harm the girl because she said she’s “not a monster” and couldn’t do anything like that to her.

However, she DOES hit a younger witch of 10 when she kicks her in the groin and Amy pays back the favor by punching her in the stomach.

Yandere: She beats the tar out of Midoriya when he accidentally spurns her feelings for him, attacks Uraraka via telekinesis in a fit of jealousy, treats Eri coldly out of jealousy due to Aizawa offering her care and also beats the tar out of him too for not stepping in to take care of her when she lost her family.

In a moment much more Played For Laughs, she threatens and shouts at Bakugo for dumping her for the first time and says that she’ll murder him in his sleep before he thinks he can get away with it. However, Amy DOES relapse into insanity when she thinks that Bakugo doesn’t love her.

Yaoi Fangirl: It’s much less to do with the fetish and more to do with Amy being extremely passionate about gay rights as she squeals whenever she sees a healthy gay couple between two men and was more than happy to help John Henry Moore into getting out there to start dating men again.

Then there’s the fact that she’s written erotic fanfiction about her own friends (much like Tina Belcher) and reveals that she ships Bakugo and Todoroki, Bakugo and Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo, Kaminari and Sero, Tokoyami and Shouji, Tokoyami and Kouda, Shinsou and Tokoyami, Midoriya and Kirishima and Shinsou and Monoma and even Shinsou and Kaminari.

You Are Better Than You Think You Are: To her shame, Amy tends to be uplifted when people reassure her, especially from Shinsou, Ashlen and Cordelia. Shinsou often reassures her whenever she thinks she doesn’t belong in Hero Society, and Cordelia gladly tells her that despite what her society did to her, that the coven wouldn’t be complete without her and her sensitive heart. And then Ashlen comes into the picture and appears to love her for all her flaws, as she embraces her imperfections and tells her that she wouldn’t be her best friend if she weren’t the way she is.

You Can’t Go Home Again: After her parents are killed by witch hunters who infiltrated Japan the pro-heroes were unwilling and unable to watch over and care the young witch, which urges Aizawa to call the coven from New Orleans. And when Cordelia, Fiona and Myrtle arrive to retrieve her and take her to Robichaux Academy, a safe haven in New Orleans, America for young witches such as herself to be her new home. However, they also tell her that she won’t be able to return to her former life in Japan and can’t stay in any contact with Shinsou and his family for not just Amy’s protection but for Shinsou’s protection as well. Thankfully she IS able to return to Japan, but only as she got older and witches being outed to the world which encouraged Hero Society to be more accepting of witches.

You Got Spunk: She goes with Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki during the Winter internship with Endeavor and because Amy has no filter with the pro-hero, openly disrespects him to the point of threatening him, he is partially amused but impressed by how ballsy she is.

Endeavor: This brat has hellfire in her...

You Never Did That For Me: The minute Amy finds out about Eri’s existence, she’s initially sympathetic... until she hears that the pro-heroes are going to take care of her and that UA is going to adopt her and place her into a more caring environment with responsible adults and older kids who look after her. As it all sinks in, Amy realizes and calls them out for taking in a girl with unstable powers, but didn’t do the same thing for her at all even though she was also a girl with unstable powers, and that instead they gave her away to strangers who did a less than stellar job and her ‘guardians’ exposed her to even more trauma. This is what triggers her into attacking and injuring Midoriya and Aizawa, and then leaving UA for 2 whole months out of anger and hurt.

You Wouldn’t Like Me When I’m Angry: No... you really wouldn’t. Amy even says this word for word at times, or just outright warning others to ‘get the fuck out’ or else she’ll ‘get angry’ and she normally lives up to her warnings as when truly angry, Amy’s powers cause things around her to break and the building to tremble if she’s really pissed off.

Yuri Fangirl: Much like it’s stated above, Amy also grows very excited and happy when she sees a healthy lesbian couple and also likes to pair her friend Mallory with Coco due to their strong friendship. Amy also adores the Steven Universe cartoon because of the prevalent lesbian relationships in it, and was disappointed when she found out Yuri! On Ice didn’t have actual yuri.

#amy martinez #tv tropes #american horror story #american horror story coven #ahs coven #bnha #mha #bnha oc #mha oc #boku no hero academia oc #my hero academia oc #ahs crossover #mha crossover #original character

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zorilleerrant · 4 years

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Okay so early season Desperate Housewives is great because it’s all sublimated housewife rage and the personal and interpersonal lives of women. And like it gets worse later on because it devolves into just another show blaming all of men’s faults on the women in their lives, constantly endorsing toxic masculinity, and pitting women against each other. But like.

Tom, and I hate Tom so much, is all “you can’t support me even though I supported you all those years, taking a backseat to your career” and it’s like. When, Tom, when.

Was it when you demanded she quit her job to be a stay at home mom, even though that job was her dream and you hated yours?

Was it when you refused to use contraception and got her pregnant again even though she only wanted one kid, right when she was trying to go back to work? And guilted her into keeping it? And then refused to help with the baby even a little, so she had to choose between her job and her family?

Was it when you decided to take a job that meant you would be gone huge portions of the time, leaving her alone with four kids, without even talking to her? And then when you refused to listen to why that was a bad idea, and she talked to your boss instead just so you’d be around for your family, you up and quit your job leaving your family with zero income, and demanded she go back to work instead?

Or was it less than a year later when you got bored of taking care of your damn kids and demanded a job in her company, bullying her into it when she said that was a bad idea, and then constantly took it out on her because you were jealous that she was your boss?

Was it when you abandoned your career to start your ‘life-long dream’ of owning a pizza place, something you had absolutely no experience in, and refused to listen to her well-reasoned suggestions on how to prevent losing your entire life savings in the venture? And then refused to tell her how you were fucking up everything you needed to do to get the place to turn a profit, because you thought it was ‘emasculating’ if she helped you?

Or was it when you demanded she help you with your thing, even though she could lose her job, and when she did lose her job, treated it like a good thing?

Or was it when you yelled at her for firing an incompetent employee, demanded she treat you like you were the boss instead of being equal partners, and said she owed you being passive at work because she was such a ball buster at home and you deserved to be in charge?

Or was it when she got someone who turned the restaurant around, finally making enough money to stay afloat through a bad week, and you fired him because you didn’t trust your wife around another man?

Was it when you decided that rather than work you wanted to ‘take a break’ and stay home, even though your family was having money problems? And ignored how much harder she had to work to make up for it?

Was it when you decided to go back to work, and then instead of doing even the baseline level of research in your chosen field, you claimed your wife was sabotaging you for not prepping you for the interviews, even though you’d told her you didn’t need her help and didn’t want to listen to her?

Was it when you got her pregnant again and demanded to take over her job while she was on maternity leave not only without consulting her beforehand and making sure she was comfortable with that, but in front of her boss so she couldn’t even say anything about it later?

Or was it when, again without consulting her, you told her boss and her friends that she would not be returning to work at all and would in fact be staying at home with the baby again?

Was it when she said she needed help and hired a nanny, and then you fired the nanny and brought your mother in to shame her about wanting a job?

Was it when she said she needed suits for work and you said it was ‘too expensive’, but when you decided you needed plastic surgery that was just your decision, whether she liked it or not?

Was it when you decided to go back to college without paying attention to costs or time? Was it when you wanted to abandon your business to go on a cross country road trip? Was it when you forced your kids to work for you for free just so you wouldn’t have to take your wife’s advice? Was it every time you told your wife she was making everything about her, including that time she had cancer and never considered your feelings on the matter?

Tell me one time when you ever let your issues take a backseat to hers, Tom. Tell me one time you ever supported her.

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hookedonapirate · 5 years

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The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.

A/N: I wanted to clear something up because I think people may have misinterpreted what I wrote, which is my fault because of what POV it was in and the order of the scenes, but I promise there is a reason to my madness. So, what I'm talking about it is, a reviewer had said my notes about Killian taking sterile concubines didn't match what I wrote in the last chapter. That may be true, but what was said about it in the chapter was not coming from me as the narrator, it came from James in Emma's POV. Just because Kira thinks Killian would ask the concubines to become sterile doesn't mean he would, it was just one of her fears because normally she brings him what he wants, and now she wants him to sire a prince, and she doesn't want anything to get in the way of her plans. There is a scene in the next chapter where this is clarified, but because I think I had upset a few over this issue and probably lost some readers because of it, I felt it needed to be said. Honestly, I didn't think really think about it when I wrote it, and anyone who reads my other stories knows that I always have a tendency to write Killian as over the top perfect because that's how I view him, so I never intend to write him as a character who puts a bad taste in anyone's mouth.

Hopefully, this puts people who were concerned about it at ease, but if anyone has questions about this or anything else regarding this fic, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or shoot me a pm. I had originally wanted to write the women to be naturally sterile, but that was something rare back then, but I realize that sometimes sticking to writing what is realistic is not always the best route to take.

Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4

Chapter 5

When Emma rushes back to the women’s quarters before she has to be present at dinner with the other concubines, she’s completely and utterly smitten for the Sultan. She’s never felt like this, her skin is flushed, her heart doing a pitter-patter in her chest and her head is spinning. She may have to change her strategy a bit because she knows she won't have to fake any affection she shows the Sultan. The intensity of their kiss is something she couldn't fake if she had truly tried. A passionate, toe-curling kiss was something she’d only heard about from her mother and the maids at the castle. It was something Emma had only dreamt about. And the fact that the Sultan is genuinely kind and sweet and the most handsome man she's ever seen, is a complete game changer. He is all the things Baelfire is not. She'd expected the Sultan to treat her as his property, she could've only imagined that if he'd seen a naked concubine outside of the women's quarters, he'd have raped her and had her beaten, but instead he had asked permission to kiss her and promised to only have her in his bedchambers when the time was right. Emma is still perplexed by this. Obviously, she has formed a very false and narrow-minded opinion about him before ever meeting him.

She has to banish the smile from her lips when she slips into her oda to change out of her damp clothes. She's relieved to find it empty, but to her surprise, Elsa emerges from the curtain before Emma can fetch a dry outfit.

“Where have you been, Emma?” Elsa asks curiously, scanning her clothes and hair before meeting Emma’s gaze.

“Oh, I was just in the bathing area,” Emma replies nonchalantly as she retrieves some dry clothes from her cupboard which is located behind the bottom half of the wall paneling next to her bed where her personal belongings are stored. “I was afraid I'd be late for dinner, so I left in a hurry without even bothering to dry off.” When she turns to face her roommate again, she fears the silver blonde is on to her, judging by her narrowed eyes and questioning half-smirk.

Elsa crosses her arms over her chest, casually making her way towards Emma. “So, what's it like to bathe outside the harem?”

Emma gapes at her friend in surprise. She thought she'd been careful enough to not be seen whenever she'd snuck off. “How do you know I left the harem?”

Elsa gives a soft, casual shrug. “I just assumed since I saw you leaving one day. I followed you to a room and you disappeared into it, so I crept up to the door and saw you at a chess table.”

Emma’s heart flutters in panic “You saw that?”

Elsa nods. “I thought it was odd because there was no one else in the room with you. Were you playing against yourself?”

Emma shakes her head, her eyes laced with apology for not telling Elsa of her escapades. “No, I’ve been playing against the Sultan,” she murmurs, placing the fresh clothes on the bed. She sits next to the neatly folded fabrics, sighing as she looks up at Elsa in shame. “I have been playing chess since I was young so when I saw the chessboard for the first time, it tempted me. Only then did I find out it was the Sultan’s chess game, for it is in his study.” Emma looks down, fingering the material of the dress she will be changing into. “You will not tell anyone, will you?”

Elsa shakes her head. “Of course not. You’re my friend and I do not wish for you to get into trouble,” she assures Emma and lays a hand on her arm. Emma peers up at her, offering a gracious smile.

“Thank you, Elsa.”

“Of course.” A wide grin blossoms over Elsa’s lips, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Have you met the Sultan since you’ve been going into his study? Have you ever caught him in there, or has he ever caught you?”

Emma blushes and smiles, shaking her head. “No, he is never around when I enter the room.”

Elsa quirks a brow, a mixture of curiosity and confusion etched in her features. “If you’ve never met him, then why were you smiling when you returned?”

Emma was hoping her friend would not inquire about that, but Emma doesn’t see any reason not to tell her, about the pool anyway. “You promise you won’t say anything?”

“I promise I won��t.”

“I was smiling because I felt freer than I had in months,” Emma claims, which isn’t a complete lie. “I was in one of the gardens when I found a pool. I bathed by myself for the first time since we were brought here.”

Elsa’s mouth opens in a gasp as she plops on the bed, sitting next to Emma. “So that's why your clothes are damp?! Oh, how lucky you are!” Elsa chants enthusiastically. “Where is this pool? Perhaps I will go, too.”

“But you might get in trouble,” Emma laughs.

“So will you!” Elsa exclaims, playfully swatting her shoulder.

“Okay, maybe I will show you one day.”

Elsa claps her hands in excitement. “Thank you, Emma, I look forward to it.”

They’re so immersed in conversation they do not realize someone is listening on the other side of the curtain. The eavesdropper casts a shadow over the red fabric, which goes unnoticed by the gediklis because they are facing away from the curtain. The shadow disappears once they change the topic of conversation and get ready for dinner.

~*~

The early autumn sun is strong, and the fresh breeze does nothing to cool him down or help with the sweat forming at his hairline. The unabating sounds of metal clanging against metal resonate throughout the courtyard, the sunlight’s reflection bouncing off the blades as the two men attack and parry, swinging and blocking, jabbing and thwarting each other’s movements. They move with expert precision, each ducking and twisting when necessary to avoid the path of the other blade.

Killian remembers when he’d held his first sword in his hands, even though he was too young to truly learn much—he was not yet five years old, and he was clumsy back then, for his fingers were small, his muscles weak and the sword heavy. But Killian was the grandson of a Sultan and if Sultans knew anything, it was determination, strength—both physically and emotionally—and how to wield a sword. Killian not only wanted to learn how to use it, but he also needed to learn it.

It meant that for his weakness as a young lad, he had quickly learned what to do with a sword. He quickly learned what it meant to become strong and fight like a Sultan. And yet, at the moment, he feels very weak, though not physically weak; his mind is constantly drifting off to visions of green eyes and golden hair. Emma’s vibrant smile, her beautiful breasts, her alluring scent and the taste of her lips drown him, weakening every part of him.

James swings his sword so quickly, Killian doesn't have enough time to block him, and instead, the Sultan’s sword is knocked out of his hand. Soaring through the air, it lands in the grass as Killian leaps back to avoid the end of James’ blade, falling to the ground with a groan.

James stands over him, holding the point of the blade at Killian’s neck as the Sultan raises his hands in surrender. “You were great with a sword when you were a child.”

Killian frowns at him. “Your words cut like a sword.”

James offers a grin as he removes the blade from the Sultan’s neck and extends his hand, helping Killian off the ground. “You’re still pretty great at it.”

Killian gives in to a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. No other man would be able to send me to my back. This moment makes me glad I am not your enemy.”

“I am glad as well,” his concierge chuckles. “Normally, I would not be so lucky to send you on your back. That is what your concubines are for, Your Majesty, is it not?” he teases as they sheath their swords and find a shady spot underneath a fig tree. They relax in the grass where Pages bring them olives, cheese and sherberts. Every day, he and James either engage in sword practice at the palace or travel to the Meydan with their arrows and spears for target practice.

“Indeed you're right,” Killian chuckles, anxious for one concubine, in particular, to have him on his back as she rides him into oblivion.

James drains his silver goblet and selects an olive, chewing it slowly and childishly spitting out the pit into the chalice. “Your Majesty, tell me what troubles you.”

Killian glances at James, catching a knowing smirk on his face. A rosy blush spreads over the Sultan’s cheeks as he scratches behind his ear, a smile threatening his lips. “What gave me away?”

There’s mirth dancing in James’ eyes as he regards the Sultan with a quirked brow. “The better question is what hasn’t given you away .”

Killian takes a sip from his chalice, deciding what he shall divulge to his concierge. The most James knows at this point is that Killian has been playing anonymous chess with one of his concubines, and there is really no reason not to tell him, except he isn't fond of anyone knowing how much Emma has affected him over such a short period of time.

“Since when are you hesitant?” he asks playfully, mocking Killian’s words during a conversation they had a while back.

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “I am not hesitant… it’s just…”

James playfully cocks a brow and waits for him to speak, but Killian is still uncertain as to how he can precisely explain in words the thoughts endlessly roving his mind. He’s not really sure what to say, which is unheard of for him. He is never at a loss for words like this. He speaks with such confidence and passion at the council meetings in front of his army officers. Killian had told them not too long ago he would one day rule the seven seas, and yet here he is, hesitant to speak of his feelings for a woman to his closest friend. “My apologies, you are so confident today,” James jokes with a soft chuckle.

Killian sighs in defeat as the soft breeze washes over him. “I met the woman I’ve been playing chess with.” The words leave his lips much more weakly than he had intended, and he looks down, picking up an olive and studying it carefully to avoid eye contact with James.

“So she is indeed a woman?”

Killian lifts his gaze and pops the olive in his mouth, carefully removing the pit and discarding it on the silver tray. “She is. Her name is Emma.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of her from Ruby. She is the one who challenged your partisan policy.”

Killian’s eyes dart to his concierge, although he shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, a woman who dares enter his study would also be daring enough to speak against his policies. “She is the same person?”

“Yes, she is one of the lush gifts your mother will present to you on your birthday.”

“Ah, I see,” Killian nods, trying to remain impassive when in reality, he already knows of his gifts and is beyond excited to have the honor of being graced with his blonde concubine’s presence at his birthday fete.

Nemo had informed him of the virgin gifts the Valide Sultan had requested from him and the great lengths the Chief Eunuch had gone to procure them. He had ensured Killian they were not sterile. Other than that small bit of information, Nemo hadn’t said much about them, only that they were four new gediklis in training, and Killian would not meet them until his birthday. At first, the Sultan had not been very welcoming to the idea of taking concubines who were capable of bearing children, to his bed; he would’ve rather gone to his bed alone to save himself from another possible heartache. He also hadn’t shown favor to the idea of his mother making decisions for him and putting more pressure on him to sire an heir, but that was before he’d met Emma and had come to the conclusion that he wants to start a family.

“Does it disappoint you knowing she is challenging your policies?” James asks, pulling Killian from his revery.

“Not in the least.” A smirk threatens Killian’s lips; if possible, he is even more intrigued by his swan.

James studies him with curiosity. “Do tell how you met her in person, Your Majesty.”

Killian blushes profusely, a bashful smile spreading across his lips as he casts a timid glance at James. “You cannot tell anyone else of this.”

His concierge shakes his head. “Of course I won’t, Your Majesty.”

Killian’s breath quivers as he exhales slowly. “I met her yesterday, she was outside the harem, swimming in the pool.”

A mixture of shock and fascination washes over his face. “Is that so? She does like to test the limits of the palace, does she not?”

“Aye, she does.”

“And what happened when you found her in the pool? How did you know it was your mystery opponent?”

Killian smirks. “I had the privilege of joining her and we spoke briefly before she gave her identity away. She mentioned the gardens, so I told her gardening was my favorite pastime, and she let it slip that she thought chess was my favorite pastime instead.”

James opens his mouth, his eyes dancing with bemusement. “And how did you respond?”

“She feared I would punish her, and perhaps I should have, but James, how could I punish someone who challenges me at a very compelling game of chess? She is currently winning, so I took a break from the game to consider my next move carefully.”

“She is very brave, I'll give her that.”

“She is,” Killian nods in agreement, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, “and I must admit, her bravery is very attractive. Where did she come from?”

“She’s from Misthaven.”

“Misthaven?” Killian asks, a slow smile curving his lips. “From your homeland?”

James gives a nod. “Yes, and she's a princess, Your Majesty, or so I was told. I was taken from Misthaven long before she was born.”

“A princess?” he parrots, arching a brow. It seems his swan continues to surprise him.

“Yes.” James sends a questioning glance, scrutinizing the Sultan carefully. “So tell me, Your Majesty, how do you feel about the princess?”

Killian’s smile widens, taking over his entire face. “She is beautiful and charming and smart.”

“That I’ve gathered, but how do you feel about her?” James asks again.

“You would really like to know?”

James gives a nod, a smile gracing his lips. “Do tell, Your Majesty.”

Killian has to sift through his thoughts a moment before he can possibly begin to supply an answer. He’s not even entirely sure how he feels about the blonde temptress, or at least he’s not sure how to describe his feelings in words. He lets his mind drift off to the previous afternoon when he’d seen her naked in the pool, and how it felt to be in the presence of his mysterious opponent upon discovering this lovely woman was the same person. He also thinks about his moment of clarity in the pool when she’d left.

“Well…” Killian pauses when his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat, hoping he can compose himself as he speaks of his feelings for her. “When I saw her, she was naked and her body was exquisite.” A smile pulls at his lips as he stares off into space with visions of her stunning figure on his mind. “My heart was racing, and I felt as if I was drowning. Even though I was above water, I could not breathe. Now I can’t stop thinking about the lovely curves of her body, but I know I must wait to have her until my birthday, out of respect for my mother.” Killian looks over at James and sees him shifting uncomfortably. The Sultan frowns in confusion. “Tell me, my head concierge, why does this topic discomfort you so? Are you not the one who inquired about it?”

James blushes, offing a small smile. “Apologies, Your Majesty, but since she was brought here to the palace as not only a gift for you, but a possible future Kadin, I have no doubt she is exquisite, so I wish to hear more of how you feel about her, rather than her physical beauty.”

Killian nods in understanding, and suddenly the blush floods his cheeks once again.

“There you are blushing again,” James taunts him. “Tell me why she makes you blush.”

The Sultan chuckles. James is right; Killian seems to blush every time he thinks about how he feels about her. He takes a deep breath before answering. “We shared a kiss,” he admits, suddenly becoming shy again. “It was…” He blows out a breath, his mind frazzled from simply thinking about it. “It was life-changing,” is the only way Killian can honestly describe it. “And since then, I have felt… I've felt like for the first time since Milah, I can find love again. I can finally begin to think of starting a family.” He tears up at the idea and looks over at James, afraid of his concierge’s reaction, although he shouldn't be. He knows James only wants him to be happy.

A slow grin creeps across James’ lips. “You can, Your Grace, and you are on your way there. This woman is already affecting you, I could tell before you spoke a word of her.”

Killian raises a brow, surprised. “You could?”

“Well yes,” he chuckles. “I have known you for many years, and never have you allowed me to win at sword practice. Nor have you ever been at a loss for words, so yes I could sense a change.”

“Apologies, my friend.”

Both men push themselves up, ready to head inside the palace.

“Please, do not apologize, I am glad you are finally opening your heart up to the possibilities that await you.”

“Thank you, James.” Killian smiles appreciatively and draws his concierge into a hug. He is grateful for James and the brotherhood they have formed. He is thankful he still has someone to lean on after losing his blood brother and father, and he hopes that one day, the Sultan after him will also have a brother to lean on, whether he is blood or not.

He pats his concierge on the back, and James’ features are creased with confusion as they break the hug. “I would like to say you’re welcome, but I’m not so sure what you are thanking me for, Your Majesty.”

“For making me see clearly again. I have done everything in my power to avoid getting close to a woman again, but you have reminded me why it is important to start a family... and not because I do not yet have an heir, but because I want my children to become as close as you and I are, as close as Liam and I were. I want them to lean on one another, not start rivalries for the throne.” He looks at James and smiles. “You have always been there for me, and I want my children to be there for one another, too.”

“And I will always be there for you,” James promises sincerely, raising his hand to gently squeeze the Sultan’s shoulder. “You will be an amazing father, so I have no doubt you will teach them the importance of family.”

“Thank you, James.”

They walk casually inside the palace, discussing another hunting trip to occupy Killian so he can think of his swan without being tempted to seek her out before his birthday. But before they go their separate ways to prepare for the trip, James turns to look at Killian once more.

“Tell me one more thing, Your Majesty.”

Killian looks over at him, lifting a brow. “What is it you wish to know?”

“How will you continue the chess match?”

A mischievous smile crosses Killian's lips. That is a question he can easily answer, for he knows precisely how to continue it.

~*~

After Emma’s schooling for the day, she heads to the Sultan’s study with butterflies fluttering around her stomach. It’s been three weeks since she had seen the Sultan at the pool, but she hadn’t been able to find an opportune time to leave the harem without anyone seeing her, and she is hoping—hoping might be an understatement—no, she is beyond anxious to see whether the Sultan has finally responded to her previous move or not. She had been too enamored by him and not brave enough, if she’s being honest, to ask why he has not made his next move yet.

Emma steps into the room and approaches the chessboard. Her eyes widen as she scans the board. She is amazed beyond belief, her mouth falling agape, and she has to blink a few times to make sure she is seeing the board correctly. He has left his king wide open for her. Normally she'd think it’s a trap, but once Emma makes this move, the Sultan will be done for, since she can easily sweep in and checkmate his king, claiming her victory. He has let her win. But why? For what purpose? Could he be trying to send her an abstruse message? But what message? Perhaps he is trying to tell her he surrenders to her? And by that, he is also telling her he is surrendering his heart? Or perhaps he is testing her to see if she is willing to surrender herself to him by not taking his king, and then he will sweep in and take her king after she leaves his white one be.

Emma is confused as to how to proceed. She thinks about it for a long while, her lips pursing together as she ponders what to do. If Emma surrenders to him, he will have the upper hand and all of her efforts will have been wasted, but if she wins, she will prove to him she has power over him, and perhaps he will be turned off by her insolence, and he will seek out another concubine? Shall she take that risk? After all, she doesn't wish to be intimidated by him nor feared by him. As James had said, if Killian does not see what value she possesses then he is foolish.

Emma is not vain by any means, but she is well aware of the effect she’s had on men in the past. They had desired her and would’ve gladly taken Baelfire’s place to be married to her. She even thought, at one point, Graham was one of those men. He was a friend or at least pretended to be, but she’d often wondered whether his feelings for her were purely platonic or something more. Emma’s features grow solemn. Thinking about the man who’d betrayed her makes her shiver.

The last time she’s trusted a man, he had let her down. She has put much faith in her uncle and sees her father in him, yet she still doesn't know if he is truly trustworthy or not, though she really wants to believe he is. Emma is not one to back down from a challenge though. Her uncle is challenging her to steal the Sultan’s heart and the Sultan is challenging her to steal his king and simultaneously his own heart. Or so she hopes.

After several moments of internal debate, Emma finally makes a decision. She reaches for her black queen, and as she starts to move the piece, the door flies open, causing Emma to whirl her head around.

Standing at the doorway are Nemo and two guards. Emma releases the game piece, her eyes widening as she stands up. How did they know she was in here? “My apologies for leaving the Harem, I’m afraid I have gotten lost.”

“I’m sorry Emma, but we have been ordered to bring you to the Valide Sultan.”

She nods cooperatively, swallowing thickly. She’d expected this would happen eventually; it's the risk she’s been taking by leaving the harem and entering the Sultan’s study. “Of course.” She quickly moves to the corridor, and with a guard on each side and the chief eunuch following behind her, she wonders how the Valide Sultan knew she was not in the harem. She thought Elsa was the only one who knew. Perhaps someone had noticed she was missing and went searching for her. Emma's thoughts are put on pause for the time being as they reach the harem courtyard where Kira appears to be very angry.

“My Sultana, I am very sorry,” Emma apologizes sincerely, bowing her head. “I wandered off too far and lost my way.”

The woman moves swiftly and lifts Emma’s chin to look her in the eye. “That is enough lies. You have intentionally disobeyed the rules bestowed upon you. Leaving the harem, walking down the golden road without my son’s summons and entering his study?” Kira scoffs, her features twisting in disgust as she releases Emma's chin. “You may be beautiful, but beauty fades over time. And Nemo tells me you have a razor-sharp mind and have excelled in your studies, but intelligence will not warm the Sultan’s bed. We don’t need clever, we need well-behaved, and you are certainly not.”

“But I am well-behaved, Your Majesty, I am just not accustomed to the cloistered life of the palace. I will try harder, I promise.”

“I don’t care for your excuses!” she shouts, her sharp tone startling Emma. “You have no doubt been drummed with the expectations of the palace and are clearly aware of what is forbidden, where you can go and where you cannot! You want to venture off wherever you please, perhaps you will enjoy venturing off to the dungeon.” She looks at the guards and tilts her head towards Emma. “Get rid of her.”

Panic is rippling through her as the guards grab her arms. If Emma's in the dungeon, how is she supposed to dance for the Sultan on his birthday, which is in two days? If she's not there for the ceremony, he will undoubtedly choose someone else to take to his bed, someone who could potentially give him a prince, and her plans will be ruined. Emma's eyes widen in panic as she looks around, seeing Mother Superior and other servants and eunuchs who, judging by their puzzled expressions, clearly do not agree. There is a woman standing beside the Sultana, whom, as her elegant clothing suggests, Emma presumes is the sister of the Sultan she’s heard about, but the young woman appears to be impassive to the whole situation.

“But Your Majesty, she is a gift for the Sultan’s birthday, as you have asked me to procure.” Nemo reminds her in a stern tone, and although he is questioning her orders and has a very strong position as Chief Eunuch, Emma can sense he is afraid of Kira. A smile almost graces Emma’s lips as she looks at him, thankful he is speaking up for her. She prays this will convince Kira, for the Chief Eunuch is correct—the entire reason for Emma being here is so she can be presented on the Sultan’s birthday with hopes of giving him a prince.

“I asked you to bring me the best concubines you could find and you have done a fine job with the others, but unfortunately you have selected this woman poorly. Find an odalisque to take her place.”

Nemo’s fear floats to the surface as he looks at Emma, for he knows she will be impossible to replace. “But my Sultana—”

“Do not argue with me!” Kira snaps angrily. “Take her down to the dungeon and lock her up, or your manhood will not be the only thing you are missing!”

Nemo looks like he has just swallowed his tongue as he nods his compliance. “Yes, my Sultana.” He turns to the guards, gesturing for them to move. “You heard our Sultana, take the girl to the dungeon.”

Emma squirms against them as they pull her out of the courtyard.

“No, you can’t do this to me!” she screams. “Pleeeease! Let me go!”

The Valide Sultan pays her no mind and dismisses the staff from the courtyard. Following behind her mother, Regina has the hint of a smirk on her face, for she is the one who had overheard Emma’s conversation with another concubine about leaving the harem, and waited to witness her leaving with her own two eyes before informing her mother. If this little slave girl thinks she can come and go from the harem and do as she pleases, she is sadly mistaken.

~*~

The day has finally come. It's his birthday, and he's not sure he's been this excited in all his existence. Not only of the possibilities of a future with the swan girl from his harem but also the conclusion of the chess game they've been engaging in. He is anxious to see how she's responded. He had made the move weeks ago before fleeing from the palace for another hunting trip with James. He had been too afraid he’d be tempted to seek her out after their encounter at the pool. Furthermore, he doesn't wish to take another woman to his bed in order to cool the lust he feels for Emma.

As a young Neverland prince, he had been taught the ways of women and had grown to be a healthy and virile man, as Sultans normally are, but unlike his father, Killian has sustained some self-control and discipline when it comes to physical intimacy. Thank the Gods he has, because, after the pool incident with Emma, his patience to take her to his bed is wearing thin. And he had arrived at the stark conclusion that no other concubine will be enough to quell the ache he feels for the blonde houri, so why bother trying when he knows all attempts will prove to be futile? He’d made a promise to himself that not only will Emma be the first maiden he will take to his bed as Sultan, but she will be his first wife, and he doesn’t plan on breaking that promise.

Killian steps into his study and strides over to the chess board, scanning it over. His heart sinks when he sees all of the black pieces are still intact, apart for one piece that is slightly off-kilter. He wonders what had happened. Did she hear someone coming and pause the game to hide? Has she been unable to return from the harem since then? Or did she simply decide not to continue the game with him?

He moves to the door, hauling it open, but pauses before he leaves, turning towards the chess table once more, his eyes studying the piece that had been slightly moved. He’d left his king open, simultaneously laying his heart on the line for her, and returned, hoping she would have responded, hoping she would have laid her heart on the line for him as well. What holds her back from doing so?

Killian steps out of the room and heads down the corridor to his private bath to wash off the smell of sweat, horses and forest from his skin as he ponders the question eating at him. Perhaps it’s the first scenario, and she's been too busy preparing for the ceremony that requires his presence in the Imperial Hall tonight, to return to the game. His mother has, undoubtedly, imposed a mountain of pressure on Emma, the other maidens as well as the servants of the palace to make the event seamless. And perhaps Emma has been too overwhelmed with the expectations of the ceremony and the events that may proceed. Though he is hardly present in the harem, he knows very well of the responsibility drummed into every concubine who enters the harem, to please the Sultan. For someone who’s never been intimate with another, let alone a Sultan, the prospect of the first time can be very frightening to think about. He imagines Emma’s mind is too frazzled with all of these things to worry about a silly chess game.

Yes, he's sure, or at least hopes those are the reasons why his lovely swan has not returned to finish the move.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @followbatb @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #princess emma #sultan killian #the princess and her sultan

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