#without stepping on discourse every scroll i take

[tiafrye]

It's against my own rules to let this side of discourse into the shipping tag so it will stay clean. Yesterday, regarding infamous Valentine's Day vid from Larian, I was essentially asked:

"Doesn't it bother you that people associate BW with AA?" (allegedly)

The short answer is - I don't give a single fuck.

But why? I asked myself, and with a bit of a digging came up with an explanation.

Disclaimer: I don't participate in Spawn/Ascension war, I don't understand it, you do you. People who do, they usually have their Tav or Urge to ship with Astarion and do I need to tell you that it's a self insert most of the time? So, people's feelings about the topic usually come from their own likes/dislikes or experience.

When it comes to shipping origin characters I (and many more) view them not from own perspective (mostly) but from the dynamic these canon characters (not ours) have.

Being narrative foils of each other, Gale and Astarion can affect one another's perspective on their shared Want - to be in control of their lives once again. And ascension for both is an obvious way out. What they Need, however, as any book on screenwriting will teach you, is something not quite obvious.

This leads to Negative and Positive arc of a character respectively. Would they recognize their truest deepest wish or continue on the path of something they can clearly see but suffer downfall in the end? Either way it's a story, it's content.

And I'm here for content. Whatever it might be.

Hell, last week I saw someone's playthrough gone wrong and both Gale and Astarion failed to ascend. The screenshot that person have posted from epilogue with Astarion on his knees alone at the reunion party was heartbreaking and still it was a peak representation of BW.

Shippers gonna ship. And in game such as BG3 with so many paths to travel do you really think that just because it's not someone's happy ending people gonna collectively pretend it doesn't exist?

Watching characters corrupt each other, destroy each other or failing at it is as juicy as watching them heal each other and finding their happiness in terms of the story because there's a fully realized arc behind it. It is essentially a quality collaboration between authors of both characters. Not a quick tumblr fanfiction.

In the end - we all want to see our favs happy together. I mean, look at majority of the fanart. People are fine. But denying yourself many possibilities of other paths?

Well, it's your money.

[gffa]

Idk why but whenever on I see Jedi discourse, it feels like I'm being gaslighted into thinking that I don't understand the film's.

I have no idea if you're saying that Jedi-positive or Jedi-critical meta is making you feel this way, but I'll address it earnestly either way: If you feel like you're being gaslit by fandom, please stop reading those posts. Unless those people are coming after you individually, you have the choice to just not read that commentary, you can walk away and not have to have that experience. I understand that you're most likely being hyperbolic about this, I don't think you seriously mean that you feel like you're being gaslit, but my advice is still the same--if a sub-section of fandom is getting to you and it's not like anyone is coming after you specifically, then it sounds like you need to take some steps back. I'm not sure what else you want from me or that I can tell you--other people aren't obligated to change their meta for you (the only thing we're obligated to do is treat real people as more important than fictional stories, to treat real people with care and compassion), just as you're not obligated to change your views because someone else disagrees with you and has written a post about their views. I'm assuming that commentary has nothing to do with you specifically, which means they're just doing their own thing and it's up to you whether you want to emotionally engage with it or train yourself to scroll on by without reading something you know is going to affect you. I wish you all the luck in that, it's not an easy path to learn to ignore stuff and scroll on by, but I promise--as someone who has to work at doing that every day (I have been working so hard on letting shit go in the DC fandom, let me tell you)--it gets more rewarding as you learn to do it more. It's fandom, don't let it have power over you that you don't want it to have. If you're enjoying that experience, by all means, continue! If you're not enjoying it, train yourself to walk away, you'll be better off for it.

[mcmoth]

Dream SMP fandom etiquette

So. This post is probably too little, too late, considering the fandom and the issues I'm about to talk about have existed for so long now, and a lot of the people who need to hear this probably aren't on tumblr anyways, but I just wanted to dedicate a quick post to talk about fandom etiquette. Mostly pertaining to discourse, and interactions with people outside of our circle. These are just going to be my own personal thoughts, of course, but I felt it could be good to bring some of this to attention. So without further introduction:

Where to (not) talk about discourse:

Don't go into other streamer's vods to only focus about a different character. If you want to analyse, for example, c!Techno, do it in Techno's stream. Don't go into unrelated streams, like Tommy's, Tubbo's etc. to do it, even if they were a part of the event in question. This is, of course, with the exception if the character in question didn't stream their own pov. But otherwise, stay in your own space. This is to prevent cluttering a streamer's comments about unrelated discussion. To give further example: Tubbo's vod comments should primarily focus on Tubbo's character. Not Tommy's, Ranboo's, Techno's or whoever else's.

Don't start discourse in the comments of animatics. Seriously, stop that. Animatics aren't discussion boards. The comments are there to analyse and appreciate the video presented, not argue. It's especially rude if you pick a small detail, that wasn't even the focus of the animatic, or even a completely unrelated issue to rant out your frustrations about. To give examples: starting disc discourse in an animatic of Tommy talking to Wilbur, or rambling about how tragic Techno's character is in an animatic focused on clingy duo, etc.

This applies to fan songs as well.

Video essays are the exception to these rules. I think it's safe to say they're the place to bring your hot takes, if you really feel so inclined to argue in youtube comment sections (Though I'd personally advise to still keep the topic relevant).

Keep negativity out of fanfic comments. This isn't nearly as big of an issue as the last points, but I've seen it happen a couple times, so I'm deciding to mention it. Fanfics are written for fun. Even if you disagree with the characterisation or something else, unless the author is clear in accepting critique, keep criticism to yourself. And definitely don't rant about how you dislike a character unrelated to the fanfic. Sharing your thoughts on the fanfic itself is of course fine and welcomed, but when it turns from discussing the author's story to talking about how you dislike a character in canon, that's when it crosses a line. Example: comment talking about what you don't like about c!Tommy on a Bench Trio fanfiction.

When commenting on art, keep the feedback positive. Even if you dislike any presented character, keep that to yourself. Example: Don't say things like "I hate x character, but this art is good". You might think the author would feel honoured, but it's actually just hurtful.

How to deal with discourse:

This is gonna be a shorter section, because I think we all chose to do it in different ways, and that's valid. Also, it's just that I, myself, am still learning how to do this well, but I thought it could be good to try to lay it out anyways.

Try to scroll past takes you disagree with instead of arguing if you don't think you'd be able to keep your cool. Noone likes a random person yelling at them through a screen, and if you rant, you'll get an equally frustrated reply back, and noone will be happy. Either explain your point in a calm manner, or scroll past/ unfollow/block.

On the keeping cool thing, remember to just step away. Take a deep breath and calm yourself down before proceeding. To minimize the frustration you feel on a daily basis, filter tags, block people, avoid videos and youtube comment sections that you know will upset you, and leave certain internet spaces if you find yourself unable to escape negativity even with all those steps. Remember: in the end, it's all a game played by friends, a story, and your enjoyment of it lies in what you take from it. Abandon what makes you unhappy. Marie Kondo your fandom experience.

Also, here's your reminder, to whom this is relevant, to take care of yourself. Hydrate, eat, sleep, clean up, get fresh air, remember the things outside of all this. There's plenty to do outside of this fandom, and what you can do here can wait. There is no pressure, or obligation. Not for the content you create, not for the discussions you bring, not for responding to discourse, not for anything. Fandom is meant purely for fun, so take care <3

Interacting with people outside of the fandom:

This is something that I've seen a bit of talk about, and I thought I'd drop in my own thoughts on this as well. No matter the differences, we're all just trying to vibe, and I think these are important things to keep in mind to leave both sides better off:

Don't interact with hate posts. Just don't. You don't want to see them, they don't want to see you. Even if your response is lighthearted, their animosity is not. They will feel frustrated regardless, and the grudge will only grow. And if they're being agressive, calm discussion most likely won't happen even if you're being polite. Just leave it, please.

Correct misinformation calmly. I completely get how it can be frustrating to see blatant lies and all, but with our reputation, people will not listen if you're being antagonistic. Provide sources, explain, and leave it at that.

Don't be hateful, send death threats, or assume privilege or whatever else. That's stepping into the same shoes of the people you hate. Misunderstandings go both ways, and the fact of the matter is, I think most people who dislike DSMP, even the ones who are agressive about it, don't have their stance rooted in maliciousness. To expand on why the situation became what it is today, taken from a discussion on discord:

I think it's just a combination of Dream growing so insanely quickly + how internet spaces have changed over the years. When ccs like jackstepticeye or pewdiepie etc. grew popular, activism wasn't as prevalent and held to such importance. Now it's thankfully more talked about, but that also leads to Dream being more scrutinized in comparision. Add twitter trends and the general prevalence of the fandom, and you've got everyone feeling tired and frustrated and paranoid. People also tend not to fact check stuff, especially when it comes to celebrities and stuff they're not really interested in, so rumors spread fast.

And actually, I think there's absolutely valid reasons to be made uncomfortable by Dream SMP, either in it's creators, content or fandom, and there is, of course, stuff to criticise in general. The problem is the hate and misinformation and overexposure, but we are not going to solve any of that by being aggressive in return.

(This is, by the way, not talking about more serious cases. Like doxxing, or leaving gore images in hashtags, or similar instances. That's a whole different complicated issue that I don't feel qualified to tackle.)

And finally, don't overwhelm outsiders who merely mention the Dream SMP. Don't send asks asking them to watch it, don't write paragraphs explaining the lore, don't confuse them with inside jokes, just... Don't jump on people like that. Unless they're explicitly clear in wanting interaction and getting into the fandom, that kind of thing will just drive them away. This is in no way exclusive to the Dream SMP fandom, pretty much every fandom has people enthiastic to have more people involved, but since there are so unbelievably many of us, it's especially easy to go overboard with this stuff. Just... be polite, and don't pressure anyone. Be nice, please.

So.... ya! This would be it for this one, I think. Sorry that it's kinda long, thank you if you read it at all. Hope y'all have pleasant days ^^

[minisoysquares]

As fun as the events and ideas you posted about 19days would be, wouldn’t it also just bring in more negative stuff - like fandom in general has become a field of land mines and I fear that something that’s supposed to fun will turn into some sort of battle. Like how some people get extremely heated over any other ships outside of their fave ship and they cannot possibly have other ships except theirs, etc. The last thing anyone wants is for content creators to be targeted simply for making something they thought would be fun

(This ask and answer is about this post.)

First of all thank you so much for addressing such a big and valid concern. I agree that that has indeed happened in certain fandoms - I can say I've been in the thick of it and witnessed quite the warfare - but in others it has also brought fans and readers and content creators together even closer and tighter in a wonderful thriving community.

I have the feeling this'll get quite long so please proceed under the cut with that in mind.

I believe all things are potential harbingers of both discord and harmony. There will always be people who feel entitled and who want - even demand! the audacity! - authors and artists to create for their ships and their ships alone. And there will also always be people who can appreciate the writing and the art without judgemental treatment regarding the pairings/characters depicted, no matter their preferences.

All of that happens and will continue to happen, whether we go forward with these events or not. And yet authors will still write what they want to write, artists will still draw what they want to draw, graphic designers will still make the edits they want to make as well. What we could do, in this small and close knit fandom, is take in our hands this powerful rich opportunity and try our best to make a model of positivity out of it.

In these events, there would be no bashing or shaming allowed. The content created would be to be enjoyed by those who are attracted to it, and those who do not have a taste for that fanwork in particular would be asked to remain respectful. (As it should always be.) There would be no ship wars in these spaces. Discourse, hate-speech or anti-behaviour would not be tolerated by the moderators of the event.

Creators who indulged in it would be immediately disqualified. Any unnecessary commentary or complaints from the audience would be deleted and reported as spam. Anyone instigating conflict would be only painting a target on their back, really. Because most of us - I dare say - are only here to appreciate the brilliant artwork and fanfiction woven and crafted by the talented people who share it with us.

If it came to it and it escalated, this hellsite has several tools that can be put to use to that regard. Accounts could be blocked and/or even reported. They wouldn't be able to interact with the blogs created to run these events from then on. We would be able to create a black list and post it publicly so everyone else who wished to could simply block those unruly pesky accounts and remain at peace and free to enjoy themselves to their utmost.

Let us not forget that this is all fiction and it's all for fun. Everyone's allowed to have their own opinion, likes and dislikes. There simply is no need to step on anyone else and their interests to elevate them.

Let's exemplify, for the sake of clarity:

Do I personally ship A with B? Imagine I do not. I do not search for it. If I come across it? I scroll past it. Once or twice, I may even like - and even reblog - if it happens to catch my attention and it's well written/drawn! (I have tags along the lines of 'I don't ship it but' and 'look at this beautiful art' or 'drown in the power of these words.')

It's so easy to interact amongst ourselves without coming with pitchforks at one another. Know what actually needs effort? Being a meanie and a party popper! Who in their right mind wastes their time on things they don't care for? Dum dums, that's who! Of course, we're all dummies at times... and that's okay! Let's just not harass people or crash their fun while we're at it!

If nothing else: you wouldn't like if others did this or that to you, therefore don't do it to others. It's a simple concept to grasp.

Very important: in these events, every single piece would be explicitly and properly tagged and warned for right at the very top of each post, so there would be absolutely no excuses for anyone being nasty.

We would just have to be open to the experience. Enjoy our ships and let other enjoy theirs. We do not have to all like the same thing. That would be just boring. But we can cohabitate devoid of trouble in fandom. Each one of us just has to be respectful. No need to even be nice. No one has to compliment something they don't like. They also don't have to step on what others do.

Don't like a ship/character/theme? Don't read stories focused on it. Don't put down authors who write it or readers who enjoy it. Same for art. No need to shout about how awful it is just for the simple reason that it does not fit into your personal shipping preferences. It can still be still be a tasty and wonderfully baked cake, it's just that you're not fond of vanilla or strawberries. It's okay. There are all kinds of cake for everyone's tastes!

Further examples: If a ship happens to be a NOTP for me or I don't care for the character(s)? I filter the tags. All of them. Any and every tag I can think of. It's very easy to protect ourselves on Tumblr from content we do not wish to see. (My own list is huge and just as effective.) Filtering is incredibly important.

So go ahead and filter out the ships you can do without! Filter out porte-manteaux like Tianshan, Zhanyi, Qiucheng, Tianxi, Tianyi, Lishan, Litian, Liyi, Shantou, Polydays, (...) Filter out any ship tag that doesn't strike your fancy like Q x MGS, HC x JY's mom, (...) Filter out characters that aren't your cuppa tea like HT, HT's dad, SL, JY's mom, XH, (...)

Make it safe for yourself and for others. That way you won't rage at the sight of your NOTP, won't feel the compulsive need to trash the people who ship it, no one is hurt and everyone is happy!

There are many steps we could follow to prevent rotten eggs in our coop. And many more actions we could take to throw them out if need be. I firmly believe, however, that if we're all of the same mind everything would go well and with very few bumps along the way.

If we only ever feared the possible negative consequences of our actions, never taking the risk for the possible positive ones, we'd never get anything done. I say let's not let our beloved fandom stagnate or dry out. Let's incentivate and motivate and inspire! Let's share! Let's have fun!

Think of it in these terms: it wouldn't be a competition at all but rather a charity event. Performers and spectators coming together for a common good, raising content and spreading joy! There would be no winners or losers or prizes. What would matter would be good old-fashioned participation, both by providing content and/or consuming it.

It could also a good way to get people to express themselves more. Many content consumers tend to lurk or keep to themselves even if they like the content posts. (I used to be one myself and only a couple months ago started to come out of my shell.) I myself advocate for reblogging instead of liking - if you have to choose one or the other, I mean, why not do both? - and leaving a word on every single post I like and/or reblog. Sometimes I go nuts commenting, sometimes I leave a small note in the tags.

It doesn't matter how. Even if you're shy or introverted (*raises hand*) or don't know what to say I guarantee a single emoticon or a string of disordered letters symbolising incoherence will make the creator's day all the same. Getting feedback is so important and motivational for creators and also a great way for fandom members to keep in touch and support each other.

Additionally, if a person would like more of a certain type of content here are some healthy actions they could take: a) commission a creator and pay for it if they can; b) politely make a suggestion to a creator with an open ask box; c) post a prompt publicly for possible interested creators to use; d) do it yourself and share it with others!

This turned out into more of a "behavioural guidelines" thing than I'd have liked. I am not in any way whatsoever telling anyone what to do. This is what I do, and it works wonders for me. I stay completely out of toxic arguments and in on all the goodies. I'm able to fully enjoy my fandoms. And isn't that what we all want?

Thank you again for sharing your thoughts with me. And I apologise for the long rant!

Of course, this is only my personal stance on the issue. I did go for a survey first exactly for this end, to get their opinions on the subject and see if it would be worth a shot. I shall hope many other people will think as I do, but I will wholly respect those who don't.

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) |

Ch.4: Touching you (2)

Naruto's marriage is a heavily popular topic now. Every beast tamer knows about it, and if every beast tamer knows about it, everyone else and their mothers know too.     The opposition he encountered within his own clan is only whispers now. Hinata's presence has been nothing short of perfect in the compound and his father's sad discourse has quelled every other worry people have. It does help that Naruto has a firm grasp of his own clan and most people inside answer to him and him only.     His only worry now is having his ceremony without trouble. Security has been harsher ever since Hinata came, then even harsher since the whole Neji fiasco and now, just days away from her actually becoming his wife, Naruto knows ants would have to present papers to enter this place.     As it should be.

    The Inuzuka's have been working closely with the Aburame's, and the reports keep coming to him every day. Nothing here, nothing there. His father does his best to reassure him, but Naruto can't help it. Big ceremonies are particularly worrisome for him. Too many eyes and too much to gain from having him get out of control.     The amount of meditation Naruto has had to do is out the charts. It would already be bad if Hinata had only been his bride, but the fact is, he likes her, and thinking about how he has put her in more danger than ever is enough to make him angry at life.     And anger and a beast tamer should not be friends.    Naruto can't help but remember his father, who lost his wife soon after having him. And they were in love in love with each other.     The pain... even thinking about it throws Naruto out of it.    Hinata is walking through the gardens with Ino right besides her. Hinata nods along as Ino points to some flowers and gives a spiel only the daughter of a florist could handle.     Naruto has a smile in place before he knows it. His pace quicken ever so slightly and he hopes Hinata catches sight of him soon.     And then he hears the sound of Kiba's dog running at full speed towards them. Naruto spreads his own technique out of habit and is running before Kiba can scream, "Intruders!"    Hinata raises her head, Ino puts herself in front of Hinata with a kunai in hand and readies herself for impact. Kiba leaves Akamaru behind as his dog pounds into one of the servant-looking strangers and bites into their neck. Kiba runs towards the other intruder, who's running directly towards Ino while bringing his hands to the front and making seals with his hands to call forth a technique.     Naruto is too far to do anything from his distance, but in a second he appears in front of Hinata. Hinata startles, but Naruto brings Ino behind him and grabs the oncoming attacker from the neck. The man, surprised, clutches Naruto's arm in an attempt to free himself, but Naruto looks undisturbed and presses into the man's neck. Kiba turns around immediately and rushes back, losing himself on the roofs.     Naruto feels the man losing strenght by the second and after letting him fall unconscious at his feet he keeps his foot over him for good measure.     "Where's Sakura?"    Ino has Hinata grabbed by the arm and is looking around with sharp eyes, "In a meeting with Lady Mito on the outer compound."     "Stay with me then."     "Yes, my lord."     Naruto spreads his technique and starts walking to the walls. "Stay close to the building, Ino. Kiba's coming back now."    Hinata remains silent as she follows Ino. Chakra is not something you see unless you have a technique like the Hyuuga's, an yet, with the naked eye, Hinata could see sparks of red chakra glowing out of Naruto.     It is both mystifying and terrifying. And Hinata can't look away.    The next intruder jumps to the wall and then to the ground. Focused on Hinata he doesn't realize Naruto lies waiting in the shadows of the wall behind him.     Naruto throws a kunai towards the man and just as the weapon is about to hit, Naruto reappears and stabs the man in the neck.     Blood spews out and Naruto grabs the man's head before he can register the attack and slices the kunai along his neck. His kimono's sleeve is soaked in blood and hangs heavy as he moves the kunai absent-mindedly in his hand. A twirl, a circle, a twirl.     He feels the rumbling before anything and he can feel his chakra spiking.    Naruto coats his arm with the red chakra from the beast inside him and waits a second as the rumbling gets closer to him. When the enemy is under him, Naruto smashes his fist into the ground, sending debris everywhere and finding a surprised ninja there.     "Found ya."     The man is dead in a second, buried in the ground and with a gaping hole in his chest.     Naruto has no time to calm himself down before two new enemies jump from the wall.     "You really don't know when to stop, huh?"     The ninja disperse in an attempt to lure Naruto away and leave the other free to attack.    Naruto sends his kunai towards one and teleports immediately, as his bicep crashes with the enemy's neck. The other man is caught by a red claw flowing directly from Naruto's extended arm. In unison, Naruto crushes his hand and his arm and both men fall lifeless to the ground.    Kiba reappears a second later atop Akamaru and stops a little farther away from Naruto, careful, "We handled the others," his eyes still scan the area, even though neither his nose nor Akamaru's catch any suspicious smells, "Shino got held back with cleaning, just wanted to come here to let you know."     Naruto is still surrounded by his red chakra.     "My lord?"     "Heard you, just give me a second."     "You need me to call for Lord Minato?"     "Nah, I'm fine. Thanks for the report, go handle the rest."    Kiba leaves but not before throwing a knowing glance to Ino. Hinata tries to walk towards Naruto, but Ino grabs her. "My lady-"     "It's all right, Ino," Naruto assures. "Everything's under control."    Ino lets go of Lady Hinata with a reluctance that Naruto notices. Hinata hurries and walks until she is in front of Naruto. "Are you all r-right?"     Naruto chuckles and finds himself relaxing, "I am. Are you all right?"     "Nothing h-happened to me."     "Good."     Hinata stares at him, mesmerized by the red dancing around him. "Is it...?"     "The beast's chakra, yes."     "Can I?"     Naruto takes a step back. "No," and immediately after watching Hinata's disappointment, "it's dangerous."    Hinata looks full of questions and Ino is now closer to them. Naruto should wait till they are bound by law to share his secrets. But he has already skipped that part already so what's one more?     "It's corrosive to the skin," Hinata glances to the body next to him and sees the burnt marks left on the body, she looks at Naruto immediately after. "I'm fine, don't worry."     Naruto uses the beast's chakra an expands his technique as far as he can. There doesn't seem to be any more disturbances, so he lets the red disappear from his body. He cups Hinata's cheek and kisses her lips. "Seems like I'll have to go and get this sorted out. Stay with Ino, all right?"     "Yes, my lord."    Naruto instructs Ino and leaves the place full of questions and with an unconscious attacker he hands over to the first Aburame he sees.       Kiba is sitting inside Naruto's office, with his hand behind Akamaru's ear.     "Done with everything?"     "Yes, my lord. It was a small unit, 10 of them."     "How did they get in?" The question of the day.     "A servant from the compound used a summoning scroll."     "A servant?"     "2 years working and counting."     Naruto lets himself fall into his seat, "My grandma and my dad?"     "Both are all right, none of them were attacked."    So they were playing the long game and only attacked Hinata. "I want a sweep of every nook and cranny in here, also a background check of everyone who works in the clan."     "Consider it done."     "Should I add a personal guard to Hinata?"    Kiba cocks his head, "They will probably not attempt anything new till after you're married and probably we'll be fine until she's pregnant."     Naruto lets his head fall back. Oh, right. Right. Because she will be pregnant at some point. With his child. And then some people will try to...     "My lord?"     Naruto closes his eyes and puts all of his mind into controlling the rage boiling inside of him. "Got it."     "We have to tell Lord Minato."     "Yeah, I will."     "I mean it."     Naruto scoffs, "I will, Kiba."    Kiba looks worried and Naruto can't blame him. Even he's getting nervous. The beast's chakra has been making him more volatile as of late and that only means his seal has been wearing off.     He needs to reinforce it.     Again.     After so little.     Naruto sighs and crosses his arms. He misses Hinata.

[skybird13]

Why I Think Fair Game Works

So we’re coming up on the midway point in this mini RWBY vol. 7 hiatus, and I have a serious addiction to Fair Game. With no more canon content coming out for another week (😭), I thought I’d provide some self-indulgent rambling in-depth analysis as to exactly why I think Qrow and Clover work so well together. I’ll be pulling off of what we have in the show so far (because I tend to base my ships off of canon context), but I’ll also be making some reasonable assumptions regarding Clover’s character since we don’t have a whole lot on him yet. 

[Note: I’m not really trying to sway anyone with this post, so if you don’t agree or don’t like FG, feel free to scroll right on by and have a nice day. I’m all for discourse but that’s not the point of this particular post. Make your own and invite me to engage and we can have a convo.)

That being said, and without further ado, here are my top reasons for being Fair Game trash. Be forewarned, this is loooong. Damn thing turned into a dissertation. 

Reason #1: Clover is a source of stability

One of the biggest criticisms I’ve seen aimed at Fair Game (aside from the more inane ones, which I will not dignify with an acknowledgment on this post) is that Qrow hates specialists. And people are right. It’s one of the first insights we get into his character in his volume 3 debut episode, right after the fact that he’s an alcoholic. I completely agree that if these two men had met in volume 3 or even 4, there is no way they would have gotten along. Clover is a soldier. A military man. He goes by the book and, in his mind, there’s not a lot of wiggle room when it comes to doing things the right way (see: his conversation with Robyn). He would have driven volume 3 Qrow up the wall, and not in a sexy way.

But the fact is, Qrow has been through a hell of a lot since then. He lost Ozpin twice (once to death and once to the lies Oz himself told), lost his way and sense of purpose because of it, almost died on multiple occasions, fell into deep emotional darkness, came under the influence of the Apathy, and had to finally acknowledge his own depression and poor coping mechanisms, or lack thereof, as a result. Shit like that changes you in deep and fundamental ways and, while I would have loved for a bit more in-show focus on this transition, I think RT gave us enough to infer the rest.

Thanks mostly to Ruby, Qrow is finally in a place where he is trying to heal for the first time since we’ve known him. He started the show as an impulsive– albeit manipulative and brilliant (see: him baiting Winter into a fight)– alcoholic who had no problem whatsoever with getting under people’s skin. The only relationships he really seemed to value were the ones he had with his nieces and with Ozpin, and everyone else could take a flying leap. Now I can’t deny that there was a certain charm to that. It’s one of the reasons I think he became such a fan favorite so rapidly; a lot of us can relate to that desire to not give a shit. But the underlying implications of that type of behavior are, I believe, pretty damn dark and serve as the earliest signs of Qrow’s depression and emotional isolation. Consider: his only functional relationships were with people who were incapable of really knowing him on a deeply personal level. Oz couldn’t because he was the one to give Qrow a purpose, thereby establishing a certain power imbalance in their relationship, no matter how close they were (I love Oz despite his mistakes before anyone comes after me for that statement and have nothing against Oz x Qrow, these are just my thoughts). And Ruby and Yang couldn’t, and still can’t, because they’re his damn nieces and being the adult in a relationship with kids means you maintain a certain distance between them and any insecurities or struggles you might have. Anything else is just not okay. He bungled that in volume 6 but he has clearly been trying to re-establish that supportive adult role in volume 7, which is amazing all by itself.

This brings us to Qrow’s emotional and mental state at the start of volume 7. Again, he’s in a place where he’s trying to heal. I don’t know how many people can relate, but that place is friggin’ terrifying because it’s the place where you have to stop lying to yourself about your problems and commit to dealing with them. But it also comes with a weird level of mental… stillness? Peace isn’t the right word, but when you’re not constantly fighting yourself anymore, you are able to breathe a little and that’s worth a lot to someone who has been trying to suffocate themselves for most of their lives. I think this has a lot to do with his shift in outlook. He’s less antagonistic because it no longer serves to feed the self-loathing monster inside him. Or rather, he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t feed it. The fact that he comes into Mantle, gets arrested for doing his job, and doesn’t immediately get in James’s face, or Winter’s for that matter, attests to the fact that he has changed. Qrow isn’t the one to call James out on the embargo or the state of things in Mantle. Instead, he steps into a role that we have never seen him in: the gentle voice of reason. He points out that James doesn’t need an entire military presence to build and launch the communications tower, and when James reveals his plans to tell the world about Salem, Qrow doesn’t outright disagree or go after him for it (as he certainly would have in earlier volumes). He simply points out that Oz spent every lifetime he had keeping that secret and then lets James explain his reasoning (flawed as it might be).

In short, all that outward anger he displayed in earlier volumes was most likely a manifestation of the self-hate storm he had brewing inside. Now that he’s decided to try to move away from that, he’s different. Of course he is. It would be completely unreasonable to expect otherwise.

Enter Clover Ebi. By sheer virtue of being who he is, Clover provides a source of stability for Qrow that he both sorely needs and has severely lacked up to this point in his life. Healing is an internal and independent process for the most part, and Qrow is going to have to sort out his issues on his own, but having someone in your life during that process who is solid is invaluable. And so far, Clover has been nothing but solid. He has been the one to pull Qrow back from bad old habits (self-deprecation and self-hate regarding his semblance). He’s been the one to take Qrow’s semblance in stride and even to get him to joke about the whole concept of having luck, good or bad, for a semblance. And so far? He’s done all of this with absolutely no strings attached. He’s not like Oz, who needed Qrow to be functional enough to carry out his spying missions, and he’s not like Ruby or Yang, who reasonably need Qrow to be solid for them because he’s their uncle. Clover is the first person who doesn’t need anything from Qrow, and so he is able to offer the type of emotional support that Qrow has never received from anyone else. They’re not even official battle partners, despite them being paired quite a bit. The lack of strings, of ulterior motives, of complicated and messy ties, and even of familial bonds, means that Clover can be the solid one. He can be a safe place where Qrow can fall apart and put himself back together if he needs to, because nothing is going to cave in if he does. Qrow won’t be putting too much weight on his nieces or on someone who relies on him for information and support. He can lean on Clover without having to worry about any repercussions. 

Reason #2: Qrow is a source of disruption 

Now for the fun flipside of my first point. While Clover provides a source of stability for Qrow, Qrow has the very real potential to provide a much-needed source of disruption for Clover, thereby balancing out what we have gotten of their relationship dynamic so far.

Being a military man, stringent structure and unconditional loyalty to his superiors are likely major aspects of Clover’s character. We have enough in the show so far to assume that’s accurate about him even if it hasn’t been blatantly stated. 

Clover carries out his orders without fail, to the point of arresting a bunch of kids and Qrow in Mantle for operating outside of official parameters. His conversation with Robyn is also extremely telling. He doesn’t have a problem with what she wants; he has a problem with how she’s trying to get it. He doesn’t believe that the ends justify the means and, in that same vein, probably also believes that institutions are there for good reason. He is the epitome of lawful good.

Qrow, on the other hand, has never operated within official parameters. He was a spy, for god’s sake, and therefore is intimately familiar with the inherent grayness of the world. He’s not someone who is going to see things in black and white, and because of this, he could offer a sort of push back against Clover’s blind loyalty to Ironwood. 

Not only is Qrow not in the military, and therefore not bound by its restrictions and dictates, but he has known James for a long time. He, more than anyone, is in the perfect position to call James out on his crap, and he’s probably the one with the best chance of actually getting through to him. Not with the same aggression and vehemence he displayed in volume 3, but with more of a tough-love approach. I fully expect this to happen at some point (and will be very sad if it doesn’t. I like James and want him to snap out of all this).

So how does this relate to Clover? Well, it forces him to acknowledge that, military or not, always trusting that the people above you are doing the right thing or the best thing is never a good way to go. He would have to step back and re-evaluate his general approach to life, which is the core of character growth. Clover never questions authority (that we’ve seen) whereas Qrow’s existence has always been in stark contrast to it. If anyone is going to act as a catalyst for Clover’s potential evolution from strict military man to a more free-thinking, free-acting individual, it’s going to be Qrow. And I think the pieces are set-up for that exact thing to happen.

Obviously, we’ll have to wait and see where CRWBY takes this one (if they take it anywhere) but the potential for growth from Clover is there because Qrow has come into his life. One of the best things couples can do is challenge each other, and these two are primed to do exactly that.

Reason #3: Opposites attract for a reason

We’ve all heard the phrase, right? Opposites attract. Sometimes I think this statement falls victim to a lot of misunderstandings so let me clarify what I mean by this. I don’t mean their chosen routes in life (rogue and spy vs. structured military man), or their semblances, or even their different combat styles. I’m talking about the complementary nature of their personalities. 

Qrow has always been a bit impulsive. It’s been established that he sometimes doesn’t fully think things through, or if he does, he doesn’t care about the consequences and is willing to deal with them (see: his battle with Winter again). Don’t get me wrong. The guy is brilliant. He baits Winter knowing it will give him the opportunity to pick a fight with James as well and call him on his shit. But I’m pretty sure he also does this knowing full well that’s all he’s going to get: a fight. He’s not going to convince James not to bring the full Atlas military presence in for the Vytal Festival by shouting at him. He knows this and does it anyway. In his fight with Tyrian, you can see more than one instance where he’s planning his moves so his semblance has the chance to work on his opponent, but it’s at the risk of his own safety as well (see: the roof stunt). There are plenty of other examples throughout the show. Qrow runs off instinct and momentum.

Clover, on the other hand, strikes me as someone who exercises a bit more caution in his life. He thinks through a situation before he steps into it and overall just seems a little slower to take action. This is true in combat situations, as the whole mine mission was meticulously planned out beforehand. You can also see this approach mirrored in the way the Ace Ops work on the whole. Vine and Elm definitely don’t rush in when they encounter Grimm in the mine, and while Marrow and Harriet might be a bit faster to go after the main target, they don’t do it without a fully formed plan. It’s not foolproof, obviously. Marrow does cut off that piece of Dust with no one there (that he knows of) to catch it, but the point is still valid. 

This tendency to go slow and feel his way is also true in Clover’s personal life. In the truck scene, you can see him watching Qrow while he talks, gauging his reactions, trying to find the best way to reach him. Nothing he says is mere chitchat. It’s all meant to pull Qrow into a conversation, which Clover tries to keep focused on Qrow himself. His opener might be Ruby but he ditches that line of thought as soon as Qrow gives him the opening to do so and shifts his attention to where he really wants it to be: getting to know Qrow.

Then you also have Qrow’s penchant for falling into dark mental places balanced against Clover’s good mood and playfulness; Qrow’s willingness to be a little more open with his emotions and Clover’s tight emotional control; the fact that Qrow feels things fully and deeply while I suspect that Clover might have emotional walls he hasn’t learned how to lower yet; Clover’s ability to follow orders and Qrow’s ability to question. And that’s all out of only 3-ish minutes of total interaction between them so far. I think as the volume goes, we’ll only get more insight on the ways in which they balance and round each other out. 

Reason #4: Shared semblances

So this has been the biggest kicker for people so far, and I’ve seen it as a point both in favor of and against FG. Some people theorize that Clover’s semblance might have some balancing effect on Qrow’s, making it much safer for Clover to be around him than it is for others. Others think that it might be more of a trade-off: good luck part of the time and bad luck the other part (I’m in favor of this). And yet others seem to see Clover’s semblance as a negative thing for Qrow, somehow dampening his own semblance or countering it to the point that it’s mentally or emotionally detrimental for him. I personally don’t quite see the logic behind this given what we’ve seen so far, but I’ll just make my point and get out of this debate because the truth is that we still don’t quite know how their semblances function together. 

What we do know is that they are two sides of the same coin, and as such, are not nearly as far apart as they might have seemed at first. They both carry around luck semblances, which I assume is pretty damn rare. Almost every other semblance we have seen has existed more in the practical realm (Yang’s damage absorption, Blake’s shadow self, Weiss’s glyphs, Ruby’s rose petal thing, Marrow’s ability to slow time, Tyrian’s ability to rip through Aura, etc. etc. etc.) And then we have these two who operate in the realm of chance, something intangible and completely unpredictable. They are fairly unique in the RWBY-verse in this sense, and uniqueness usually breeds a certain degree of separation. 

A ton of theories are floating around about how Clover’s semblance has affected him throughout his life. I’ve posited a few myself. We obviously have no idea what the canon backstory for Clover is, and while I do think it’s pretty safe to assume that while Qrow has dealt with ostracization because of his semblance, Clover might have experience with some sort of idolization or even over-reliance (which can be damaging in its own right) because of his, there isn’t a whole lot we can speculate on without more information.

So where does that leave us? With the scene depicted above. Regardless of how their semblances might play off each other or what these two have suffered (or enjoyed) as a result of them, one thing is certain: they understand one another. Qrow may not know what it’s like to be able to draw good luck to himself, but he knows what it’s like when his semblance does work in his favor and screws over an opponent. Clover, by the same token, probably doesn’t understand what it’s like having to constantly watch out for misfortune, but he most likely does know what it’s like to have his semblance flip on him and give the edge to his opponent. Additionally, them both having such similar semblances means that learning to look for signs of each other’s being at work won’t be much of a stretch for them. They would be able to adapt pretty fast to working together. Note, I’m assuming their semblances function in the same way and that Clover has no more control over his than Qrow does because it just makes narrative sense. 

This puts them in the unique position of being together in their semblances, even if they’re on opposite ends of the spectrum. Qrow has not exhibited any jealousy or bitterness towards Clover because of his semblance, and Clover sure as hell hasn’t put any distance between them out of concern for Qrow’s semblance. They get each other, and after only half a season, they have developed a level of comfort with one another that already allows them to joke about it. An inside joke that no one else could possibly understand. And that is some powerful shit for two people who have potentially (one person we know for certain has) been isolated in one way or another because of their semblances throughout their lives.

Reason #5: Clover is new

Okay, if anyone partial to a different Qrow ship has somehow made it through this monster of a post, you might want to skip this bit. Because I’m going to make an argument for why bringing in a new character to be Qrow’s love interest is actually a good idea. This is not to hate on I//ronqrow or S//nowbird or any other popular Qrow ship, but it might annoy the shit out of you so… fair warning. I’ll keep it brief, though. 

I think Qrow getting involved with someone who he has no past connection to would be insanely good for him. When it comes to James or Winter or, really, anyone else who knew him before this volume, there is a lot of baggage there. And I mean a lot. At this point in his life, Qrow is dealing with enough of his own internal shit that throwing external interpersonal baggage on top of that probably wouldn’t help him in any way. Sometimes, you just need to start over somewhere (especially when you’re trying to pick up the pieces of yourself and figure out how they go together), and Clover offers Qrow the perfect opportunity to do that. There are no preconceptions that Qrow has to deal with, nothing he has to make up for or prove. Clover won’t be hovering over him anticipating a relapse or using his past behavior to interpret his current actions, or wondering why he’s changed, or holding things against him. He can figure out who he is now without the pressures of who he was hanging around his neck. And that, like so many other things these two have going for them, is unbelievably powerful. 

Reason #6: They already have the nonverbal thing down

This one is more for funsies than anything, but come on. They’re already communicating non-verbally? 

It took me a while to pinpoint that expression on Clover’s face but I finally got it: his brows don’t lower in annoyance or anger. They furrow: the universal sign of concern. What exactly he’s worried about, I’m not completely sure. It could be any number of things at this point, from a hint that he’s not totally supportive of this particular order he’s getting (bringing Robyn into custody) to a concern that he and Qrow might be approaching a clash point (not so far, though if Qrow is going to be the disruptive force Clover needs, that point is probably coming). Either way, this look speaks volumes. I’m just not entirely certain how to read it yet. 

But in the interest of keeping up on the analysis, note his answer to James. It’s not a “yes sir” or a “whatever you say, sir”. He says “we’ll figure it out”. Qrow looks at him and only then does Clover shoot him that sideways glance thing. Is he making it clear that he means to include Qrow in this? That he wants Qrow’s help? That he knows they’re all in a crap situation but the Amity project is stalled and they need to try something so they should at least try this? They’re communicating something here and just because I don’t know what it is yet doesn’t mean this is any less significant in terms of their relationship. This kind of thing only happens when you click with someone and these two definitely click.

Bonus: They’re just so damn cute together

If you made it through that nonsense, congratulations! Have some Fair Game goodness as a reward. These two are adorable together and you will never convince me otherwise:

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Melee

Part 3 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

Zuko has been living in Pohuai Stronghold for two months, and would very much like winter to be over now, please.

It had snowed a few weeks ago, just enough to cover the top of one's foot when one stepped in it, and Zuko had hated it at first sight. There was just something unnatural about how Koh-damned cold it was, forcing his inner flame to burn hotter in his chest to compensate. Most of the snow is gone now, only little piles of dirty slush left in the corners of the yards where the weak winter sun doesn't quite reach, but it is now somehow colder than it had been when the snow had first arrived. None of the other Archers are firebenders, and Zuko honestly has no idea how they cope—Kai actually seems to like it, but Kai is also mildly insane and not to be trusted.

Zuko is now triply glad that he took the Commander's deal. He gets three meals a day (plus access to all the snacks he could ever want—all he has to do is blink and people shove food at him), he'll be learning from the most badass soldiers in the entire world (although he has yet to actually start training—Dr. Atsuko says he needs to gain more weight before she'll let him even touch a bow, and Dr. Atsuko is really scary so he doesn't want to cross her), and he gets Agni-blessed warm clothes (Zuko will bite anyone who touches his koala-sheep wool cloak—Zheng and the twins make fun of him for his attachment to it, but Zuko ignores them with the ease of someone who literally couldn’t care less). And all Zuko has to do is figure out new and interesting ways of getting past the Stronghold’s security, like the voyage through the ventilation system he’d taken last week that had allowed him to access the single most secure prisoner holding cell in the entire complex without even Captain Katsuro, leader of Banli Squad and the oldest and most experienced member of the Troop, knowing where he was.

Considering that two months ago he’d been staring starvation in the face, Zuko feels that maybe the luck that he’d used up just by being born is starting to come back.

Now if only winter would end.

Zuko is sitting with Kai and Jiyoti at breakfast in the mess, watching with increasing skepticism as Kai discourses the merits of arrows made out of ice, of all things. He’s neglecting his bao, and Zuko waits until Jiyoti distracts him with a salient point—how would one make ice arrows without waterbenders?—before swiping one. Mmm, sweet bean paste.

Kai pouts at him when he realizes what has happened, but Zuko is distracted by Commander Toshiaki coming their way.

Privates, Zuko, good morning, he greets them.

Good morning, Commander, they sign in unison.

Zuko, you need to report to Dr. Atsuko in the medical wing when you finish breakfast, the Commander informs him.

Zuko nods. Yes, sir.

Commander Toshiaki nods, the faintest trace of a smile playing at his stern expression, and Zuko feels like a million gold pieces. The Commander had been impressed with his breaking into the secure cell, and Zuko can’t wait to impress him again on his next “mission” to test the Stronghold’s security. He can only hope that nobody’s too disappointed when he inevitably proves how much of a failure he is at archery and non-bending hand-to-hand. He’s already resigned himself to never completing his firebending training, since the Yuyan are all non-benders. He’ll just have to hope that he never gets into a situation where firebending is his only weapon. He wonders if the Commander will let him continue learning the dao, since it’s a non-bending form of combat.

He still needs to be cleared by Dr. Atsuko though, so after Commander Toshiaki signs for them to carry on, and he steals Kai’s other bao (and ducks the listless protesting swipe the older boy aims at his head), Zuko heads over to the medical wing.

For once, the CMO seems pleased to see him, and within moments Zuko is stripped to his underwear and standing on a scale. He tucks his hands in his armpits and shivers in the chilly air of the medical wing.

“Good news, you’re just on the right side of healthy weight for a boy your age and height,” Dr. Atsuko declares briskly. She allows him to step down and get dressed while she scribbles on the scroll that contains his medical information.

Does that mean I can start training? He asks, smiling hopefully.

Dr. Atsuko rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, you can start training, put that look away, you brat,” she grouses. “But don’t overdo it, understand? If I see you in here because you did something stupid, I’ll have Toshiaki triple the time you spend on the bench for recovery.”

Zuko nods rapidly as Dr. Atsuko scribbles on a small square of paper and rolls it up. “Take this to Toshiaki,” she orders, handing the note to him. “And tell the Commander that I’ll have his hide if he breaks you in ways I can’t fix.”

Zuko has absolutely no intention of telling the Commander that; he’s not a complete idiot, no matter how stupid Father and Azula and his tutors and combat instructors thought he was. He knows perfectly well that he’s exactly one screw-up away from being tossed out of the Stronghold on his ass, Zheng and the twins never let him forget it. Better to keep his mouth shut and his hands still unless spoken to directly—he’ll likely have fewer bruises for doing so when they do finally get sick of him and kick him out.

The sentiment is appreciated, though. Dr. Atsuko is scary (not quite as scary as Azula—it’s doubtful that anyone’s as scary as Azula except maybe Father—but Dr. Atsuko is close), but she cares in her own way. Zuko forms the Flame and bows, she scoffs and waves him off, and he departs.

His grin hurts his face, especially where the muscle of his cheek wrinkles the stiffened scar tissue of his burn. He doesn’t care, though—he can finally start training with the Troop, instead of watching from the side like someone’s useless kid brother! He can’t wait to tell Kai!

But first he has to find Commander Toshiaki. At this time of the morning, the Troop is usually on the target range, working on speed drills.

Commander Toshiaki is exactly where Zuko thought he would be, along with the rest of the Troop. He presents the scroll to the Commander, who favors him with a quietly pleased expression.

This is excellent news, he declares. He then assigns Zuko to Chihese Squad for PT and weapons training. Zuko and Kai exchange grins, and Zuko ignores the ferocious glare Zheng sends him.

Captain Hiroki, Chihese Squad’s leader, looks Zuko up and down. Ever touch a weapon before, kid? He asks, and Zuko can see the sarcasm in the way his hip is cocked, his half-lidded eyes, and the smirk lurking just below the surface of his stoically flat mouth.

Something about him reminds Zuko of Azula when she was fishing for something to torment him with, and his spine snaps straight. I studied the dual dao for three years with Master Piandao before my father demanded I stop, he answers, keeping his hands and expression tightly under control. Father forbidding him from continuing his studies with the Master is a memory almost as painful as that of the Agni Kai, but he powers through it, refusing to let this potential Azula-replacement have any kind of ammunition against him. My Uncle helped me continue learning, as well as helping me learn other blade techniques. Such as this.

As fast as thought, Zuko draws his pearl dagger, flips it to grasp by the tip of the blade, and throws it handle-first at the closest archery target. It hits a fraction of an inch off of dead center, buried to the hilt. The target is at least twenty feet away.

Kai looks like Summer Solstice has come early. Mika and Jiyoti are smirking. Zheng is audibly grinding his teeth, dark eyes narrow and furious. Captain Hiroki looks… impressed.

The Captain walks over to the target, pulls out the dagger, and examines it as he walks back. Zuko watches like an eagle-hawk, but all Captain Hiroki does is look it over, shine the blade on the sleeve of his tunic, and hand it back to Zuko, who immediately tucks it into the sheath in his belt.

Very nicely done, he signs, all traces of sarcasm gone from his face and body. And quick, that’ll serve you well with a good set of real throwing knives. Why did your father make you stop learning from Piandao? I thought he was supposed to be the best swordmaster in the Fire Nation.

My father didn't like Piandao, and believed that weapons were beneath a firebender's dignity, Zuko replies, and doesn't miss the sneer that crosses Zheng's face. Annoyance churns in his gut, but Zuko's been ignoring Zheng's sneers and jibes since he was able to understand the Yuyan hand-language, and he's not about to break that streak.

A firebender, Captain Hiroki signs, almost absentmindedly, hairless eyebrows furrowed in thought.

I'm not very good, Zuko shrugs.

It seems as though Zheng can no longer hold his peace. You can't possibly be going through with this, Cap! He signs, fury in every line of his body, his hands flying so fast that Zuko can just barely keep up. He's a thief! He should be shipped back to the Home Islands in chains, not be trained in our ways like he's actually one of us!

Shut up, Zheng! Kai's hands snap out. Don't pretend you're not just jealous that Zuko's better at shadow walking at fourteen than you are at twenty!

Why would I be jealous of a spirits-damned street rat? Zheng replies, sneering. He's obviously lying about studying under Piandao, wanting the Captain to fawn over him the way the Commander does, while all he's doing is using his ridiculous street rat tricks to make it seem like he's actually useful and not planning on selling us all out to the closest dirt-eater forces––

Zuko can't take it anymore. He's many things: a failure, a soft-hearted weakling, a useless embarrassment to his father and family. But he is here now in this new life because he believed, and still believes, that it is wrong to sacrifice loyal subjects of the Fire Nation as battle fodder. The idea that he could be a traitor to his people burns even worse than Father's fire-whips, or the handful of flames he'd held to Zuko's face.

He breathes, and exhales fire. The force of his rage produces a plume of reddish gold flame that roars toward Zheng like a stampeding komodo-rhino, causing everyone to jump back to avoid being burned.  

Zheng is white under his Yuyan tan. Kai once again looks like the Summer Solstice has come early, with his birthday next. Mika's eyes are wide, and Jiyoti is practically hiding behind the older woman. Captain Hiroki looks thunderous, but before he can even move his hands, Zuko is already signing.

You don't know a damn thing about me, you giant piece of shit. His entire body is trembling, he’s so angry he feels like he’ll actually burst into flames. He doesn't even care that he might get kicked out for this. Zheng's been a boarcupine quill in his side since Commander Toshiaki and Chihese Squad had pinned him to the storeroom wall, and Zuko is done. I stole so that I wouldn't starve, because I was dumped in the middle of Koh-damned nowhere with the clothes on my back and a single useless knife, and I didn't even make it out of the Stronghold before I got caught anyway. I was going to die. I was supposed to die, but the Commander decided to let me live because he thought I would be useful. And I will never be able to repay him for that, for giving me a home and a new life, so I will stay here and learn everything I can and be as useful as I can possibly be, and you can shut up and stay the fuck out of my way!

He can feel the force of his glare in the pressure on his temples and the ache in his scar where his left eyebrow used to be, and the expression must be something because even Captain Hiroki seems reluctant to get close to him.

A hand lands gently on his shoulder, and Zuko flinches hard before whirling around to face the new threat, which is—

Kai, with an easy smile on his face, though his dark eyes are pained. Come on, he signs, let’s go to Master Arata and get you kitted out. Cap can deal with Zheng.

Kai leads him away, and Zuko glances back to see Captain Hiroki turning on a still white-faced Zheng.

Master Arata, the bowmaker for the Yuyan Archers, takes one look at Zuko and gives him the one bow with the single lightest draw weight in the entire Stronghold. Kai laughs himself sick as Zuko tries and fails to draw the bowstring back to his chin.

The Commander finds them in one of the training areas used by the regular Army companies that are stationed at the Stronghold. Kai is showing Zuko the strengthening and conditioning exercises the Yuyan use as part of their archery training, and Zuko recognizes many of them from both firebending and sword training, so they're in the middle of a planking contest when boots appear in Zuko's vision. He falls flat on his face when he realizes just who those boots belong to.

He and Kai both snap to attention, but Zuko can't look anywhere but at the ground, shaking as he awaits the Commander's punishment for firebending at Zheng. His shoulders ache with tension. He wishes the Commander would just hit him and get it over with.

Boots reappear in his vision, and Zuko squeezes his eyes shut and braces for the impact.

And nothing happens. Slowly, the fuzzy buzz of panic enveloping Zuko like a suffocating blanket falls away, and after a few moments he gathers every scrap of courage he possesses and opens his eyes.

The Commander is crouching in front of him, his head level with Zuko's chest, looking up at him with calm dark gray eyes. In this position, Zuko is head and shoulders taller, instead of the Commander looming over him, and he can't understand why the Commander would do this because it has to be absolutely demeaning for the leader of one of the world's best strike forces to take such a position before a useless idiot child like him––

Peace, Cadet Zuko, Commander Toshiaki signs slowly, expression serene.

Oh. Duh. As if Zuko needed another reminder that he's an idiot.

Captain Hiroki has informed me of your altercation with Private Zheng, the Commander continues. As the instigator of the incident, Private Zheng has been reprimanded and assigned a punishment detail. He has also been transferred to Banli Squad, per recommendation from Captain Hiroki and Sergeant Mika. However, firebending at someone outside of training scenarios or active combat is forbidden here in the Stronghold, by order of Colonel Shinu, and I'm afraid that means that I need to give you a punishment detail as well.

I understand, sir, Zuko signs haltingly.

You are to report to the komodo-rhino barn half an hour after dawn for the next two weeks, where you will perform tasks assigned by Stablemaster Guo until the mess opens for breakfast, the Commander declares.

Zuko blinks. He can't have understood that correctly. The Commander wants him to help take care of the komodo-rhinos… as a punishment?

But he has definitely learned to hold his tongue in front of superiors, and has probably pushed his luck enough for the next year, so he simply signs Understood, sir, and bows with the Flame.

I have also spoken to the Stronghold's firebending master, and he is happy to take you on as a student, Commander Toshiaki adds. You will report to him at dawn every day after your punishment detail is complete. He wished me to inform you that he understands if you have gotten lax in your meditations in the recent past, but he expects you to resume them immediately, so that you are well in the habit once your training resumes.

For the second time in as many moments, Zuko is shocked. He honestly hadn't expected to be allowed to continue his firebending training, and he could admit that a small part of himself had been just a tiny bit relieved. Before, even with Uncle's intervention, firebending training had not been a pleasant activity. No one had dared to physically harm the Fire Prince, but Zuko knew full well how the palace masters compared him to Father, to Uncle Iroh, to Azula, and never really seemed to care if he hurt himself in the process of trying to prove himself worthy of them.

But now, there's no one to compare himself to other than the soldiers who bend, and the master who oversees them. Anyone to whom he might try to prove himself wouldn't care about his firebending, because they don't bend themselves. Zuko isn't the Fire Prince, the Crown Prince, anymore, he doesn't have anyone's boots to fill but his own.

And that is a very exciting prospect.

So he grins widely at the Commander and signs Yes sir!

Previous | Next

[grokebaby]

What's back home?

Katherine got up at 6:05. She always got up first. And most always at the same time. She got into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker. It started working a cup with a conveniently quiet Humm. She took out her sugar free yogurt and organic fruits and started putting them in the bowl in an aesthetically pleasing order. After setting the bowl down on the table with a fresh cup of black coffee, she voice commanded the radio on her favourite channel and began doing her morning exercises. It was all the same routine she'd been doing since turning 20. And her body simply couldn't start up without a good exercise and a stretching.

Her husband Gerald slept for another hour until finally crawling out of the bedroom. "Good morning dear", Katherine said in a neutral tone, reading an e-book she'd started earlier that week. Her breakfast table-ware had already been run under the tap and put in the sink neatly. "Mornin' honey. News!" Gerald responded, opening the fridge. Their radio switched to the news channel as Gerald put last night's lasagna in the microwave. "Don't yell at the radio", Katherine quipped over the noise of the empire's latest happenings. "I didn't" Gerald responded. "You just did." his wife pushed back, not even lifting her head from her reading. "It runs on voice command Katey, I just commanded it" Gerald explained drowsily, pulling up his boxers. "The AI doesn't need to be convinced of your authority to do it's job honey" Katherine notified half seriously. The microwave made a little ping, opening the door to a lukewarm plate of lasagna. Gerald took a fork and sat in the matching armchair next to his wife's. "Katey I love you but we have this same conversation literally every morning." He sighed, taking a forkful of food.

"No we don't. Not literally. I love you too Gerry" Katherine retorted, adding the nickname most likely out of some frustrating way to get back at him. He snorted in amusement, sharing a look with the woman. There was still the same warmth under an ever thinning layer of self centered dignity. She continued reading. But they did have this same conversation yesterday..

Kalvin was forced to take a standing spot in the train again. He was fortunately used to standing around by this point in his life, since his job included alot of walking anyway. He looked out the window as the tubular vehicle slid up the tracks, above the ground level traffic. A person he usually didn't think about popped up in his mind. It was in the form of a childhood memory, probably brought on by two small children running into a store. He and Luke used to shoplift every now and then. They'd see a cool train set in the window, or a packet of muffins in the aisle, and immediately get the same idea. Sharing a brain cell stayed with them for years after the orphanage, even after their little brother circle was broken. One of them would always distract the employees either by asking incessant questions about a random product, pretend to buy something, or fake an injury. Or sometimes get an actual injury. Luke was a clumsy kitten.

He smiled a little, catching his tail wagging subconsciously. It stopped once he acknowledged it. His mind swam to a more recent memory of his brother. Frustrated growls and tense tail flicking. He remembered how astounded he was upon hearing what Luke actually did for a living.. "Oh cmon, we used to do vigilant-y stuff all the time! What's so shocking here?" Luke'd said. Kalvin tried to list all the legal and physical trouble his brother would be in, if anything were to happen.

"It's secret, Kalvin! We hide our traces! Obviously!"

That wasn't explanation enough. They eventually ended the discussion. For that evening at least. But it was the start of many more arguments. Not that it was the only subject of discourse. His brain skipped to the part where Kalvin was done packing his belongings into the van, gotten in himself and looked to his brother. They shared eye contact. It was cold. It hurt. It didn't lessen his anger. The next time he saw his brother was on the news. A mugshot. A crazy headline. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream "I told you so!" to his brother's face. He couldn't.

The train smoothly slid to a stop, intercom announcing where they were now. Kalvin was shaken out of his reflections. He stepped out.

Ash groaned and decided to finally give studying a rest. He'd been reading the same paragraph over and over again, not really digesting any of it. He sighed heavily and stared at the screen for a few seconds, blankly. After spacing out for a solid minute, he simply shook his head and got up to fetch himself ice tea from the fridge. There wasn't much else in there. He strolled into the livingroom, wanting to get away from what his brain considered "Studying space". The tea was kinda stale but the coldness of it refreshed him a little, relaxing his body.

He glanced at the clock, only to notice it was afternoon already. He smiled a little at the timing of his tea - his mother would be doing the same back home right about now. He should call her. He texts her regularly but the poor woman only takes the time to write in the evenings, right before bed, as she's scrolling her phone for one last reality check. She'd definitely appreciate the call. Everything's on voice command back there anyways.

He had her number on quick dial, and the phone was ringing in a second. She took a bit to pick up, but soon enough an old woman spoke from the other end. "Yes dear?" Ash swallowed. He way preferred non-instant methods of communication - talking directly to someone was so easy to mess up.

"Hi mom. What's up? I just uhh.. Took an ice tea from the fridge and thought of you, I guess." he said into the phone. "Oh, I was just putting on my own tea right here, right - right about now. It's boiling. But it'll come fast for sure." she stuttered back. "Yeah, that's why -.." Ash started before being cut off. "Yes how's studying dear? You um, you had that big exam coming up." Ash stifled a sigh. He definitely wasn't in the mood to get right back to this topic again. "Yeah.. Yeah I was just taking a little break here. There's alot of material to.. you know, take in."

The rest of the call consisted of small talk and affirming to his mom that yes, he does indeed still live by the basic standards of hygiene, and that yes, his friends at school are doing good but are just busy. He eventually hung up.

Could've gone worse. He let his thoughts wonder for the time it took him to finish the ice tea, after which he begrudgingly returned to his materials again

Amalia turned off the TV. The news always gave her anxiety. Something bad always happened, either on the news or whenever someone was watching them. If it was something she really had to know, it would surely come to her knowledge some other way.

She got up to make herself cocoa. Knowing Colin would be coming home from football practice around this time, she prepared two cups.

Out the window she could see the local neighbourhood. It wasn't the fanciest one, but she'd gotten comfortable in it by now. It was already dark out, and most work-going people would be inside. Only a few people floated by, illuminated by the street lights. A group of youngsters on their way to the pub. Elderly people going to the store last minute to get something they just remembered. Late-night workers picking up trash. A band of strangers lurking behind the corner.

Something about that didn't sit right with her.

She looked away, afraid they'd notice her at the window. Pulling the curtain, she dared quick glances every few minutes. About three or four people, waiting around for something. Nobody hung out for fun in spots like these. They were talking with each other, although probably not pleasantries. Most of them wore sizeable coats, and the ones that didn't had stuff to carry. Her palms dampened with sweat and she looked away again, trying not to focus on whatever thoughts seeing them originally brought up.

Her cocoa got cold as she forgot to drink it.

Memories tried to push up to the surface. Of large groups of strangers surrounding her. Being held against a cold brick wall. Manhandling. Her claws slid out, pushing against the wooden table. She'd managed to tear into a cloth, or perhaps an ear with them in the past. She wanted to avoid conflict at all costs. The house around her felt too empty. Cold. The stinging phantom smell of alcohol and blood slid up her nostril

The door opened and shut. "Evening! I smell cocoa!" Colin meowed from the entryway. He quickly threw his coat to the rack and peeked his head into the kitchen. Amalia blinked and tried to shake the anxiety away. She picked her claws off the table subtly enough to seem casual, and smiled to the young tom. She took a breath and started purring. "Oh, yes. I put your cup on the table right here. Go wash up first sweetie". He was always a bit ruffled up after practice, considering what kind of sport football was like. Amalia found it a bit too intense and always worried about Colin getting hurt amongst the kicking and tackling. "Yes ma'am", he trilled, making his way to the bathroom. Once he was out of sight, she glanced out the window again. The group had left.

Stella changed her reading position. Judging by the neckpain and the heaviness of her eyelids, she'd probably have to put away her book soon. And she decided to do it now before she got lost in the charmingly papery pages of her vintage reading. She tucked it on it's designated place on the shelf, right between two other books. She was very happy with the collection she'd amassed thus far.

She stretched, mind still swimming in the mythical stories of old. She absently looked out the window. It was dark, except for her reading light. The house was quiet. She knew she had places to be tomorrow morning, but didn't feel like being there just yet. She wanted to savor the rare moments of peace and freedom that, unfortunately, mostly happened during the late hours. Her eyes, as if on instinct, looked for the moon. She remembers going outside every day for weeks on end, just to look at it with a periscope. It had offered her some semblance of comfort, getting to see where her brother was kept. She knew it was virtually impossible to go see him in person. The phone calls around New years were always emotional.

She didn't see it. Must've been the time of month. She decided not to devote any brain power to worrying, and just sat there. No stars were visible through the light pollution, but that wasn't new.

She slowly and begrudgingly changed into her pajamas and sat on her bed. Jeremy was also a night owl, wasn't he? He'd always be fixated on something random, like cleaning some closet in his room, or looking up monster sightings in their area, or how toffee was made. She smiled a little, though it was gone in a second as longing pricked her chest. For the thousandth time she went through all the thoughts of denial and disbelief. Ones like "He's such a sweet guy, he wouldn't just straight up kill a person", "There's no way he got into a guarded building unassisted. What if it was staged?", or "Where did he even get a farmer's stunner that strong, they're only available in very specific, company oriented businesses". She swiped the thoughts away and forcibly tucked herself to bed. She'd cried enough over it, and decided to let life be as it was right now, whether she liked it or not.

Things don't always work out how you want them to

[lady-plantagenet]

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 2: SOdden (or Sod ‘Em depending on your persuasion)

(Dont know how long I’ll be able to keep these puns up)

Catherine, like this woman, does not really fit into this era. But while this woman seems dropdead cool and at least looks the part, Catherine just...

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes:

The baby cloth lifting into the ceiling of the chapel had nice ‘myth of the demon countess of Anjou (ancestress of the Plantagenets)’ vibes. I am 100% that was unintentional. I get this impression by the cringiness of the baby’s screams (what’s up with those sound effects? It sounded like a zipper).

Henry gives me such softboi vibes? It’s pleasing to me because it’s making me attracted to him as a viewer, but no good in convincing me this is Henry VIII.

I think Catherine’s exposition about how she feels is pretty ok actually, it’s fitting that she would feel anger.

CHARLES’ FATHER IS NOT MAXIMILIAN, IT���S PHILIP (or rather it was). ~~ A quick wiki search guyz, a quick wiki search. Ughh

Again with the whole everyone acting like Catherine is Queen. Can they cut it out? Also while we’re at it, what was Catherine’s attendance in councils even like?

The music was nice

Post Child announcement phase:

Oof I hate to say it but I lowkey wanted de la Pole back in this mother. Mainly because it would mean more Margaret Pole and by this point I am scared her storyline will fade in prominence now that there’s no longer a Yorkist subplot (showhorned as it was, it was the crowning glory of last season tied with Arthur x Catherine).

More x Maggie Pole and all of it over Seneca and learning :’). I already know this will be the best part of the episode.

‘We certainly know stoicism in our family’ ~ I guess she’s referring to Reggie? Because our boi Clarence was no poster boy for stoicism. Though could she be making an ironic reference to her father~?

Edmund de la Pole Debacle:

Well this convo at least passed the bechdel test.

Maggie and Edmund’s interactions here are touching. I know this plotline was rushed but I think it was just right to bring us back here for 5 min as a mournful throwback to the bygone era to which Maggie Pope belongs to and now continues to do so alone. It is emotionless and you can just feel how the York cause was hanging on by a tired old threat by that point.

Maggie Pole is becoming matronly now and I like this transition.

What bothers me about a lot of fans of Margaret Pole is that what they don’t realise is that she wasn’t all like ‘I want nothing to do with my family I’ll stay low and obscure’. While far more cautious than the likes of her ancestors, she did engage in land disputes with Henry VIII and was an outspoken supporter of Catherine and Catholic. Having her be a woman woth dubious loyalties towards the Tudors is accurate.

Scotland with Meg and Jammes:

LMFAO it’s like they read my mind when I spoke of how much I laughed when Meg was like ‘Alexander Steward you pig!1!!’ last episode.

Nice reference to Aulde Alliance

I like James.

Henry and Catherine on the balcony:

Was she commander of the forces? Was Howard appointed that? Regent she was, ok.

Charlotte Hope’s new hairstyles really suit her!

‘Will you please stop cursing’ agahsjdk ahah

No offence to women (of which I am one) but this comparison between childbirth and war is just... wrong. I know Starz think they are being smart but childbirth is far less impressive than winning or surviving a battle - comparing the two diminishes the bravery of soldiers. YET ,having said that, childbirth is necessary for our society whereas war is almost always futile and by comparing them, it wrongly represents violence as something inherently as natural to us as birth and continuing of civilisation. overall not a smart, respectful or accurate parrallel to make.

Meg and prep for invasion + Catherine in her weird armour:

So Margaret dreams that her husband is dead and bloody in her bed. Ughh show you neeed to get more creative. But I did like the whole ‘dreams are how our ancestors talk to us’ line from Angus Douglas.

Re: Meg in her beret... Why is Meg dressed like me going to the London shops in October? Digging the aesthetic but not sure about the accuracy.

Rich of Catherine to bring up Edmund.

Why is Ursula Pole crying??? What is all this to her really?

Did Howard just call the guard... sonny?? Is this some WW2 crossover?

Catherine - James and the tent parlay:

Did Catherine just insult Meg’s intelligence??

Also lmao I’m going to miss James.

Re: Howard saying ‘I’m not going to get insulted by a man wearing a dress’ .. UMMM Starz, you do know that just thirty years ago men were prancing about in dresses and leggings (essentially). From around the middle of the 14th century to the beggining of 16th century (if not earlier), Englishmen were also essentially prancing about in ‘skirts’.

Am I getting a weird cooperation-partnership vibe between Meg and James?

The Battle:

Charlotte Hope looks so good with the helmet, she’d really suit an english hood! Such a shame they won’t give her one!

Ewwww he’s eating mud, why?

Just standard battle scene. They are all the same to me no matter which movie.

Aftermath:

Jesus, I find the whole Meg crying over James IV so heartfelt ‘you arrogant bastard’ for some reason just came out so full of emotion. Can someone please explain why the hell I ship them more than Henry x Catherine?? Like how ??

Awwww Linna is sooooo adorable ughhh. Also this whole Catherine going into armour among all the women crooning over the children gives this adorable sense of Catherine boyish and bloodying herself out to protect their peace, idk. All I have to say is that these series is less eager to pitt women against each other than the previous. I think that’s a step forwards.

Also, good to see Catherine being modest about her victory so Henry can save face. Finally starting to seem like the real Catherine.

‘Go on you dog’ arghh ahah he sounds like some public school rugby lad egging his mate on.

Re: Wolsey cock-blocker; the real Catherine would know it was uncatholic to have sex when you were pregnant. Also Catherine is not technically speaking in confinement if she’s wandering about.

It’s nice to see Catherine sticking up for Howard, she at least learned to respect him during the battle.

I foresee Oviedo having enough of this Christian stuff and wanting to return to the berber domains (I suppose Spain is out of the question)

Knighting Ceremony:

Apparently Margaret Pole herself was made Countess of Salisbury during this same ceremony... right? @houseofclarence

Also Maggie Pole being like: “being a rebel is in my blood, or so they tell me”... gahhh what’s with these shows and the Clarence erasure? Can’t they make one bloody reference to her dad or grandad Warwick? Ugh. Especially with lines like this. Actually? You know what? Ignore my previous comment about the stoic remark and it being an ironic reference to Clarence. I put such subtlety above this show’s writers.

Catherine has a habit of going to the coldest places possible to lose her children...

Haha @ Henry asking Bessie Blount (of all people) where Catherine is.

Conclusion:

6/10

What I’m happiest about is that Flodden got dealt with in one episode because warrior xena Catherine is not what interests me most about this show. Having said that, it was a true shame that James IV died because his were some of the best scenes. This whole show is starting to feel so historical fantasy-ish because the aesthetics are so confused. Granted it’s still pretty (not eyesore like Reign) but it doesn’t penetrate.

I am as always invested in the Poles (and More) but am also starting to get attached to Princess Mary whose actress exudes plenty of charm. This show remains confused with its feminist message because while it shows women being proactive there is so much emphasis on babies that what remains with the mind after watching is this womanish birthdrama, as opposed to a show about struggles which affect both genders.

You might tut at me and say I’m being ridiculous and that it is historically accurate to put so much emphasis on women’s babies and I say that’s swell. I would happily watch a show where that element is strong (most pre 1995 historical dramas are like that with traditionally feminine characters and I gulp them up like sustenance), but if a show promises feminism and women-men being partners I want it to deliver that properly. As I said in my previous post, why do we keep trying to make women engage in acts like war as if such an abhorrent act is the only way to take them seriously? I await the day where cunning, rationality and cool-headedness will be the traits portrayed as feminist ones.

There is nothing else to really comment on... the only potentially deeper message in this is the gender discourse. I am unsure about the accuracy so I can’t speak of the historical value of the interpretation. But what I will say is that though I remain excited for each new episode... I’m just not as invested as I was in TWQ (rewatch every year dont @ me) or TWP despite their many flaws. Some characters pull me in eg Maggie Pole (Carmichael is a bae), Thomas More etc but not the whole cast like TWQ. Anyway... would be interesting to see if anything happens with Lina and Oviedo tommorow as their storyline is conspicuously slow.

[whumpbby]

Ok, because I am not in a habit of reblogging anons who are assholes, let me answer in my own post. 

The yesterday’s fiasco wasn’t me misunderstanding a poor op who just ‘wanted people to tag things right’. I’ve made it perfectly clear that proper tagging is important for the system to work efficiently at every opportunity I had. 

What the op wanted was not ‘proper’ tagging, it was tagging in a way they wanted things to be tagged to make their personal experience easier. (And none of it was worded as a request, mind you). 

There were 3 clear demands in the original post: 

1. Tag all /’s in the Batfam as incest

2. Rate them all as Mature content regardless of their actual explicitness

3. Keep the summaries PG

And all of them are unreasonable on the platform of choice, because:

1. Starting with the fact that not everyone agrees what is ‘incest’ in that particular side of the woods. Because most of these characters weren’t siblings/family at any point in their lives and for some that is enough. Because some people don’t know them as anything but strangers (those that are not interested in the wider canon, just saw two characters that look cool and decided to slash). Because there are canon aus where they never knew each other. Because a person writing an AU like that didn’t set out to write incest and would like to keep the tag for the things that in their opinion deserve it (a situation where characters are stated in the text to be a family, for example). Throwing on a blanket tag on each of these situations because op sees the issue in one way only doesn’t mean others who don’t somehow don’t have the right to protest. Eye of the beholder.

2. Mature content already has a meaning on the platform and it pertains to the letter of the text. It pertains to explicitness of the text (not only in sexual way, mind). Marking something as M-rated creates an expectation of it containing certain content in the head of the reader who searches for that kind of content and cluttering the rating with fluff slice of life pieces only because they have a certain / in them is disingenuous. Remember, everyone has the right to a working rating system that allows them to navigate the website efficiently - not only the op. Efficiency of the system > self-perceived safety, because the efficiency of tagging = safety of the reader as long as the reader does their part. Not their half - their majority of the work, because tagging/rating system isn’t a nanny, it’s a tool. 

3. Summaries are how authors decide to advertise their stories, its up to them to set them up however they want. If you read one by accident that is not the author’s fault. If a person’s triggers are so acute that a moment of accidental exposure is enough to switch them on, then it’s not unreasonable to expect of them to take their time and stop at the tag level and approach the rest with caution and retreat at the first sign of trouble. If someone is fine with explicit material in the fic, but not in the summary, then it’s their problem and I find that to be entirely hypocritical - and also, something they have to come to grips with on their own. There was a comparison to a bookstore and explicit covers there that kinda failed, because when you walk up to Erotica bookcase and pick up a cover more explicit that you’ve expected it isn’t anyone’s ‘fault’ - coming into M tag and seeing a summary more explicit than you expected isn’t a ‘fault’ it’s the nature of the section you’re browsing.

If someone honestly can’t scroll through the fic list without issues - then they should not be scrolling through the fic list - use fic recs, ask others to vouch the story for you, ctrl+f on the opened page to search for the triggering words and avoid them, follow only the authors that are safe for you and their bookmarks, etc. And it’s on you to make sure your tag list is up to date and your reading speed is adjusted so you don’t step into a puddle by accident. No, it’s not efficient and it’s not quick when you’re on a reading binge, but if the issue is so severe you can’t cope with it - you have to create your own safe corner for your own sake and work constantly on improving your defences, because you can’t trust others to do it for you. 

Some will agree to help - and they did, some are on board with that idea, good for them I have nothing to say to them - but that’s all you can count on, just as you can count on some disagreeing an opposing for various reasons, and in the end all you’ve accomplished is an argument that pits people against each other on the basis of morality. Because it always comes down to morality, because every other argument can be ping-ponged back and forth at nauseum.

And I am going to mention that there were already anon hate massages sent on that account so, hey, usual Friday in the discourse land.

To reiterate, I am sure the whole thing started in some sort of misguided good faith, because op is outspoken about certain things and on many issues I tend to agree with them (hence it came across my dash at all, cause I was a follower). But they are wilfully misunderstanding the way their platform of choice works and shielding that misunderstanding with personal trauma. As you do. I feel for anyone having to deal with things that harm them. I don’t feel for anyone expecting the ‘courtesy’ of shielding them from strangers.

And that is that on that from me. 

[the-kestrels-feather]

Alright, I'm not tagging this as TMA so with any luck this wint make into the main tag but I need to scream for a minute.

Every day I get closer and closer to unfollowing every TMA twitter I follow, sans a handful of friends, and just have it be there because I'm tired. I'm tired of every time I log in seeing the discourse of the day, I'm tired of the fighting, I'm just in general tired. I refuse to take part in it personally, not because I don't have opinions, but because its exhausting. And I feel like everyone being in Quarantine is just making it worse, and I don't know how to explain to people but it's never going to end. Unless everyone can sit down and have a discussion and come to some sort of agreement (which would be great but no matter how small this fanbase is it's highly unlikely), it's not going to stop. You can't just bend a group of people to think like you, and the amount of fighting is just getting exhausting. I'm not saying don't stand up for what you believe in, but at some point it feels like a line needs to be drawn, and I'm drawing mine personally. TMA used to be my "good" fandom, like most of the other ones I was in were garbage fires but TMA was the one where people for the most part got along and were supportive and it was actually a fanbase I was excited about getting into, but now it just feels like everyone is always fighting over something, and watching it is taking a toll on me. I want to step back before I gave another Hamilton situation on my hands and end up not liking TMA because I can't listen to it without thinking of the fandom. I don't know what the answer is, but this isn't it. I'm tired of all the arguing and with everything going on in the world and being back with my family for the foreseeable future, I just don't have the spoons or the willpower to listen to it anymore.

Anyways, I'm not entirely sure what the point of this was but I just needed to get it out. Feel free to keep scrolling or yell at me in the asks or whatever.

/rant

[fishxx]

Se Qing and the Naked Truth

February 24th, 2017

Below the rooftop of a Beijing building that shudders against a glaucous sky of factory moans is an unextraordinary office building. In it, perhaps on the sixth floor, sits a man in a suit at a desk. The phone on his desk rings. He probably picks it up. Maybe he shifts his weight in his seat, undoing the buttons on his cuffs. Maybe he texts his wife, tells her not to wait up, a client needs this or that document tonight.

It’s 11 degrees Celsius, and a pair of broad-boned feet rest on the ledge of the rooftop above the office building. The owner of the feet crouches over them, back bent round as if in a snail shell. He looks down to the street below, speckled with pedestrians bundled in scarves and cars blaring their horns. He thinks about what kind of people might be in the office building.

Seven months prior, he’d written in a series of diaries published online:

           我总是能听到开枪的声音，开始的时候我有点害怕，时间久了，也就习惯了，那声

           音也像有人在用槌子往我脑袋里钉钉子，好像有一个建筑工地，有人要盖摩天大楼

           ，盖了这么多年也没盖好，好多无家可归的人在我的脑袋里面哭啊闹啊，我要被吵

           死了，他们不让我睡觉，也不让我出门。不睡觉也好，不出门也好，反正每天出门

           前，穿上精心挑选好的衣服，照着镜子怎么看都觉得像要去参加自己的葬礼

           I am always hearing gunshots. In the beginning it scared me a little, but over time I’ve

           grown used to it. Someone has taken up a hammer and is knocking nails into my head,

           it’s a construction site where someone is erecting a monstrous skyscraper, they’ve been

           building it for years and it still isn’t done yet. The many homeless people in my head are

           crying and jibing, they won’t let me sleep, won’t let me out the door. Staying home and

           awake suits me just fine, because every day before heading out, after putting on the

           clothes I’ve selected so meticulously for myself, and looking into the mirror, it looks to

           me as if I’ve dressed to attend my own funeral.

It had always felt this way. For much of his life, since his childhood in a suburb of Changchun, the capital of China’s northeastern province of Jilin, Ren Hang had felt as if he was stumbling through a shadowy psychosis, a jammed film reel in disparate shades of gray.

Still, through the fog of voices and visions clouding his consciousness, in Ren’s pulsing circuit board of veins, he has always felt a deep connection to his family, to his hometown, to China.

And this has never wavered, even as he moved what seemed continents away to study marketing at 17, to live in the 4-to-a-room cramped quarters of Beijing’s university housing, high from the ground, amidst the haze and cancers and pollution of a city of chaos.

–

Fragmented light splashes across the bare thighs and torso of a man whose face cannot be seen. Each hand holds a disco ball, whose mosaicked faces refract the flash’s exposure. Between the disco balls, an erect penis. In another photograph, from the last series Ren published, two nude men sit curled atop one other on the ledge of a building, pasted against a jumbled, silver skyline. Their eyes meet the camera’s gaze steadily.

As Ren crouches on the windowsill, many of these photos are already on exhibition at Foam Fotografiemuseum in Amsterdam. Museum curator Mirjam Kooiman says of the work, “It’s visual poetry. It’s without limits.”

Ren is not without limits.

The man in the office shuffles a stack of paper, maybe. He sighs when the phone rings again. Perhaps he stares at the minute hand on the wall clock.

Ren, some days, can’t tell wall clock from whiskey.

He rises slowly in the frame of the window. Stands, looks. Maybe he is naked, like so many of his subjects are. Maybe, as always, he’s meticulously selected what he believes to be the proper attire for the occasion. In one month he’ll be 30. He is always hearing gunshots.

He steps into the air.

–

January 15th, 2010

           我只会注意那些病态，结巴，物质，2维思维，单亲家庭的男孩。有一种男孩是我

           在涨潮几个小时之后会打电话给他，听到他的声音我知道虽然我还在水底，但是我

           还没有溺亡。

           I will only pay attention to those morbid, stuttering, material, two-dimensional- thinking

           boys in single-parent families. There is a kind of boy who calls me after hours of high

           tide. Hearing his voice, I know that although I am still underwater, I am still not dead.

Huang Jiaqi has the broad, hopeful eyes of youth and lips full as if they’d been stung by honeybees.

It’s been nearly a year since he ran away from home, leaving his university entrance examinations unfinished, his childhood tucked somewhere in diaries with thick-pulp pages, like those still made by tired men in the Qinling mountains.

At only 18, Jiaqi is slight of build, and can often afford nothing more to eat than a box of fried rice with a cucumber for five yuan. He devours the meal shoulder-to-shoulder with his lover, beneath the opaque and oppressive Beijing sky.

Jiaqi and Ren sleep in a house with five or six others who pad silently through the space like apparitions, also hungry.

Ren takes Jiaqi to rooftops. He snaps his shutter.

And with friends pitted naked against mosaicked Moroccan-style floors, between red curtains backlit by pale light, in reeds and bushes, amidst the haze of cigarettes in dingy apartments, Ren snaps his shutter. Boys and boys, girls and boys, girls and more girls mingle, mangled in limb and wire and branch.

Ren graduates from his compact analogue camera to a $29 Minolta X-700 film model. He is not interested in digital cameras. He says, “I like film. It’s exciting to wait.”

His work is featured in small group shows in Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Nanjing.

Still, it seems no one in the art world knows Ren Hang’s name.

Jiaqi knows Ren Hang’s name, his mother’s name, the pock-marks of his left cheek, the sound of his heartbeat. In and out and in and out like the tide.

Jiaqi is Ren’s greatest muse, the reason for all things.

In eight years, an image of his face will splash the cover of an international art book published by Taschen and Ren Hang will be dead.

–

June 8th, 2008

           写给周耀辉的信

           每个人都是同性恋，每个人都是霸权者，每张脸都打上马赛克，每颗心都穿上防弹

           衣。所有的亲吻都是一味毒药，所有的��抱都是一个牢房。

           Letter to Zhou Yaohui:

           Everyone is homosexual. Everyone is a hegemonic person. Each face is marked with a

           mosaic. Each heart is wearing a bulletproof vest. All the kisses are blind poisons, and all

           the hugs are a jail cell.

Ren books his first solo show in 2010. It opens in July under the name “Eat Naked Lunch!” at Yuyintang, a cozy underground live house in Shanghai.

One photograph features a young woman lying on her back, her knees drawn against her bare chest. Between her legs sprouts a tangled bouquet of leaves and red wildflowers. No genitalia can be exposed in the photographs on display, though the work Ren produces is often explicit, featuring cigarettes with seething red heads protruding from vaginas and lilies with their stems tucked into anuses.

He begins to exhibit quietly in other galleries and live houses.

And gradually, like a moonflower unfurling, Ren Hang’s work begins to bloom in the art world. The influence of boundary-pushing erotic photographer Robert Mapplethorpe becomes increasingly apparent, yet curators and collectors insist they have never seen anything like it before.

They are eager to comment on its starkness, its unapologetic sensuality, its balance and color, and its function as a bold fuck you to the Chinese government.

–

In the spring of 2018, Chinese social media platform Weibo announces a three-month “cleanup” effort of its site, a censorship initiative launched on the heels of President Xi Jinping’s new cybersecurity jurisdiction. Weibo quietly begins removing all content related to homosexuality. In response, social media users storm the platform with the hashtag #Iamgaynotapervert.

Though homosexual sex was decriminalized in China in 1997, members of the LGBTQIA+ community continue to face prejudice and a dearth of political discourse about their rights. Today, gay marriage is still not legally recognized in a single continental Asian country.

The Dream of the Red Chamber, the Qing dynasty-era novel oft considered the peak of Chinese literature features a number of steamy same-sex relationships, and passages of dialogue brazen enough to make even the most indiscreet of patrons blush: “What’s it to you if we fuck asses! It’s not like we fucked your dad,” says one character. Hand scrolls of the same time period depict what appears to be recreational sex between male friends, one colorful panel portraying a man hiking up his robes, sitting upon another man’s lap while they enjoy a cup of tea.

So whence came the disdain for homosexuality in China? Anthropologists argue that the influence of Western socio-cultural norms and exposure to foreign media rendered the subject taboo, casting shame over same-same relationships as the perverted product of delinquency or mental disorders. Others assert that the filial values of traditional China that have dominated social life since the era of Confucius are to blame.

Ren says, “We hide the body in our culture,” because it is “a demoralization to show what they think should be private.” But instead of hiding, Ren rebels—worshipping both the sacred and the sacrilegious in the human form, twisting and contorting it into geometry and shadow.

Everything about Ren’s photography is charged with the electric current of sexuality. Much of it is homoerotic. Much of it is not. As one curator puts it, “There’s no hierarchy between the female and the male model in his work. It’s very telling about these tendencies of sexuality and queerness in Chinese society and how his generation is dealing with it.”

What does this one represent?, they ask. It must be a commentary on the political state of modern China, they whisper.

When asked whether his pictures are meant to inspire or incite a sexual liberation in China, Ren responds flatly, “A sexual liberation? No.” He says, “Nudes have always been around. We were born nude. So I don’t think there’s anything to revolutionize. I just photograph things in their more natural conditions.”

Ren Hang didn’t intend to become a photographer. He became one accidentally, toying with a compact camera in the ennui of his days at the Communication University of China, snapping photographs of his roommates here and there, often naked, scuttling to the showers from their room with four bunks like narrow coffins stacked atop one another.

Perhaps he didn’t intend to become a poet either, although after his death, Tim Crowley of the KWM Art Center in Beijing says, “He was, in a way, a poet who just happened to be a great photographer.”

At times, he writes:

           "My cock"

           When soft, it’s like a piece of meat

           When hard, like a knife

           I give you soft when you eat

           Wait for you to eat hard

           Use it to kill you

And, at other times:

           "Real desperation"

           I found

           My breasts are bigger every day

           My vagina is wider day-by-day

           I can be ashamed

           I can hold hundreds of rivers

           My time is finally coming

           But I also felt for the first time

           What real despair is

           I stand in the highest place

           But I dare not take a look below

And as Ren Hang comes barreling into the world of contemporary Chinese art with images that incite gasps, fury, and arrests, he perplexes and enchants by straddling, unapologetically, the worlds of straightness and gayness, of kink and custom, of truth and deception, of masochism and tantrism, of woman and man.

–

May 9th, 2013

           还有一次连续几天晚上我都觉得我的隔壁睡了两匹马，我能听到他们的喘息，还有

           那种马的“突突”的鼻音，我每天回到家都小心翼翼地怕吵醒了他们，有一天我的朋

           友来家里住，我跟他说，我的邻居是两匹马，他们一直在睡觉，你今晚还是不要洗

           澡了，洗澡的声音太大了，我们说话走路也小声一点，不然会吵醒他们的，我已经

           三天没洗澡了。我朋友说我疯了。我说，他们不是一般的马，他们会说人话，会躺

           着睡觉。开始他以为我在开玩笑，但是我的表情越来越严肃，他说你真是疯了。后

           来我也不知道该怎么跟他解释，他再也没有住过我家。

           For a few days in a row, I felt like there were two horses sleeping next to each other. I

           was very careful not to wake them. One day, my friend came to stay at my place. I told

           him that my neighbors are two horses. They have been sleeping. You shouldn't take a

           shower tonight. The bathing sound is too loud. We can only speak quietly. Or I will wake

           them up. I haven't bathed for three days. My friend said I was crazy. I said that they are

           not ordinary horses. They speak ‘people’ and lie down to sleep. At first he thought I was

           joking, but my expression became more and more serious. He said that I was crazy.

           Later, I didn't know how to explain to him. He never stayed at my house again.

In China, mental illness is like homosexuality. It exists. We don’t talk about it.

–

April 5th, 2016

           我适应了逆来顺受，就像掷骰子，每次都掷到同一个点数，后来你发现，其实每一

           个面的点数都是一样的。这个房间里我最熟悉的就是头顶的那块天花板，它就像我

           的天空，白色的天空，没有任何阴晴变化的天空，我幻想过楼上的邻居就是住在天

           上的神仙

           I have adapted to obey just like a die that is rolled over and shows the same number every

           time. In the end you realize that each side of the die is exactly the same. I am most

           familiar with the ceiling from my room. It’s like my sky, a white sky. There is no

           pleasant change in my sky. I imagine that my neighbor from upstairs is an angel living in

           heaven with the gods.

“I love China, and I like shooting Chinese people,” Ren tells Vice Japan. “The more I’m limited by my country, the more I want my country to take me in and accept me for who I am and what I do.”

Ren is arrested a number of times—for shooting nude models in public places, where indecency is punishable by up to six months’ jail time, and, perhaps more scandalously, for self-publishing.

The Chinese government exercises nearly complete control over the press, and the country’s commitment to extensive media censorship is a well-documented phenomenon. Self-publishing, while technically legal, is a highly regulated procedure requiring an ISSN number and authors’ compliance with mandatory censorship policies.

Ren begins publishing his work underground in 2011 with the help of a friend who works in printing, knowing that he will never be able to publish his work otherwise, as the distribution of explicit photo or video content in China is illegal. The Communist Party once dubbed pornography “spiritual pollution.”

In 2015, in the vindictive heat of a Beijing summer, when asked about if he considers his pictures erotica, Ren tells a magazine intern, “I don’t like the word ‘erotica’ (in Chinese, qing se). I prefer ‘pornographic’ (se qing). I think it’s more direct.”

In China, a lifetime behind bars may await anyone who produces, disseminates, or sells “obscene materials.”

Naturally, Ren sets out to do all three.

Within five years, he produces 16 of his own zines and monographs, filled with glossy pages of penises urinating into corded telephone receivers, bodies twisted into fantastical shapes, vaginas splayed open like raw wounds. Many of the earliest of these books were sold underground in small shops whose owners knew his work.

A posterboy millennial, Ren has generated cult followings on his Weibo, Tumblr, and Instagram profiles. He publishes his photography freely on his website, alongside collections of poetry and an unassuming tab on the sidebar menu bar labelled “My Depression.”

His website is shut down unexpectedly. Once. Twice. Again. Law enforcement officers swarm Beijing galleries in wailing Volkswagen Passats, calling for the stop to his exhibitions. A man attends an exhibition and spits on one of the photographs.

He is arrested, but never imprisoned. While Ren operates as an anomaly, a dark creature inhabiting the fringes of Chinese society, authorities seem ambiguous about his status as a criminal. Is he a political rebel? Is he subverting the zhengfu?

They hesitate further because the mind of China is evolving. The economy, taking new shapes.

Chinese citizens born in the 1980s were taught that the country’s “pillar industries” included the automotive, construction, mechanical, electrical, and petrochemical sectors. But these categories are not static. In recent years, biotechnology, advanced energy, and IT have made their way to the forefront of the economy. These new pillars are China’s loyal heed to the call of science. Yet—more than anything—they’ve become the cherubim upholding the god that is capitalism to this country of atheists.

What is largely unexpected is the State Council’s 2009 announcement to make “culture” one of its pillar industries by 2020. In 2016, the Ministry of Finance earmarks nearly four and a half billion yuan in funding for cultural development initiatives. Beijing, Shanghai, and Shenzhen are booming. The art world, rising.

“The market in China has greatly matured, and this has enabled us to present exciting, emerging artists from China and across the Asia-Pacific region,” says Alexander Montague-Sparey, the Artistic Director of Photofairs Shanghai.

It’s no wonder that authorities cannot put their thumb on Ren Hang with enough accuracy to stamp him out like a cigarette butt. Instead, they fumble with his burning edges.

–

May 19th, 2011

           这几年你一直在寻找一张失踪的桌子，生活在一只倾塌的杯子里，逐步进化成愤怒

           的杯底。这世界就是离你这么近，却摸不着，又看不清楚。就像一束光要和影子做

           爱，那么难，我活得像一个影子。却只能再黑夜里出没。

           In the past few years you have been looking for a missing table, living in a falling cup,

           and gradually evolving into an angry cup. This world is so close to you, but it can't be

           touched. Just like a beam of light to make love with a shadow, so difficult, I live like a

           shadow. Only to haunt the night.

Ai WeiWei is China’s most beloved and most despised political dissident. The irreverent artist is known for designing the Beijing National Stadium for the 2008 Olympics and for his controversial visual arts challenging the institutions of modern Chinese society. In 2014, he exhibits an entire collection featuring only photographs of his left hand pitted against the background of famous global monuments and religious buildings, his middle finger raised in bullish protest.

The state media deem him a “deviant and a plagiarist.” He’s arrested in April of 2011 and held for 81 days by authorities. Officials allude vaguely to his “economic crimes” without filing specific charges. His assistant, Wen Tao, mysteriously disappears and is never seen again.

In the consistent spirit of controversy, he champions the work of underground photographer Ren Hang.

In 2013, he curates an exhibition called “FUCK OFF II” at the Groninger Museum in the Netherlands, featuring the works of Ren and 36 other contemporary Chinese artists, many of whom are pioneering a neo-avant-garde driven by a need to challenge the sociological, environmental, and political climates of modern China. It contributes to a burgeoning, global Ren Hang following.

Ren always maintains that he is simply making pictures the way he wants to make them.

“Politics is interested in me,” he tells the press at the OstLicht Austrian photography gallery in 2015, “but I am not interested in politics.”

–

March 23rd, 2015

           我昨天在超市

           偷了一管牙膏

           前天把邻居的锁孔

           用口香糖堵住

           上周把小区门口的

           一排垃圾桶

           全都踢翻

           每次我做了坏事

           都觉得生活好像

           又变得美好了一些

           I was in the supermarket yesterday,

           I stole some toothpaste

           The day before yesterday,

           I blocked the neighbor’s keyhole with chewing gum

           Last week, at the neighborhood entrance,

           I kicked over

           A row of trash cans

           Every time I do bad things

           I feel like life

           Is getting better again

Ren hasn’t spoken much to his family since he left Changchun at the age of 17.

He calls his mother. He paces the length of his apartment slowly, watching one foot move in front of the other, the pattern in the floor’s wood grain rendered into clusters of tiny faces.

“I’m wondering if you’d like to model for me in a photo shoot.”

His voice hangs in the air like a bird riding a current of wind.

“Do you want me to take off all my clothes?” she finally laughs.

He is jarred by the realization that his parents must know everything. Here, all along, he believed they couldn’t have suspected a thing.

Of course he doesn’t want her to take off her clothes—she’s his mother, for goodness sake.

She doesn’t mind.

He insists that a bra and underwear will do just fine.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

She smokes a cigarette. Ren snaps his shutter.

Expressionless, she holds a pig’s severed head. Ren snaps his shutter.

–

February 2nd, 2010

           《我爱你》

           想在你身后，

           看你走路的姿势，

           盯着你并不丰满的屁股看。

           想去你家。

           想跟你睡一张拥挤的铁床，

           在半夜突然醒来，

           舔你的眼睫毛，

           摸你冻裂的嘴唇。

           想在早上抢着穿你的内裤，

           让你穿我的，

           看你站着小便，

           拍下你用过没冲的厕所。

           "I Love You"

           Want to be behind you,

           Look at your walking posture,

           Stare at your not-so-plump butt.

           Want to go to your home.

           Want to sleep with you on a crowded iron bed,

           Wake up suddenly in the middle of the night

           Lick your eyelashes,

           Touch your cracked lips.

           Rush to wear your underwear in the morning,

           Let you wear mine,

           Watch you standing, urinating,

           Photograph the toilet you used without flushing.

Sometimes Ren darts into traffic, or lunges himself ahead of an encroaching bus, only to leap backward at the last moment. Sometimes he stands too close to the platform’s edge in Beijing’s swollen subway stations. When he swims in the chlorine-blue pools of hotels around the world—places where his work is championed, where he receives bottles of wine and dinners of black caviar and foie gras from museum directors—he keeps his eyes closed, lets his body sink to the bottom of the basin, listens to the muted sparkling of the water.

He feels most at peace when he is close to death.

“Since I was seventeen,” says Jiaqi, “the most important thing for me has never changed—to protect you and to protect our love.”

Jiaqi is well on his way to establishing himself as a leading fashion stylist, editor, and model. He makes his own pictures, too. In 2018, his photography glosses the cover of Tatler Hong Kong.

He snaps an iPhone photo of Ren. Beneath the glow of a red umbrella amidst geometries of sunlight, Ren stands in a blue Umbro soccer tank top. He looks into the distance blankly, his broad and elegant cheekbones lending to his perpetual appearance as gaunt, as exceedingly gentle, as older than he is. It seems so far removed from the world of art that they both have learned to inhabit in different ways.

–

January 10th, 2013

           《最亮的光太快》

           我从来不想变成最亮的光

           最亮的光太快

           比流星还快

           我愿意变成黑夜

           我愿意缓慢得就像静止

           我愿意经常被你遗忘

           偶尔被你仰望

           即使在那仰望里

           我只是一张背景

           “The Brightest Light is Too Fast”

           I never want to become the brightest light

           The brightest light is too fast

           Faster than meteors

           I would like to turn into night

           I am willing to be slow like static

           I am willing to be forgotten by you often

           Occasionally you look up

           Even in that gaze,

           I'm just a background

Ren Hang steps into the sky.

The gray of Beijing’s carbonate heavens flashes against fragment of glass, of skyscraper, of silver branch. Perhaps a bird darts past, cutting through the air careless—careless as one must be to have been given the great gift of flight without cognition of one’s privilege.

Perhaps before peace,

He sees his mother’s face. Her harsh mouth in a line, a stream of smoke curling around her.

Perhaps

He sees a boy with bee-stung lips.

The boy says: “I didn’t even know about this thing called depression the first time I saw you crying and telling me you wanted to set the flat on fire so we could die together.”

Maybe he hears the boy’s voice ringing in his ears, a kind of private, radiant sonar.

“You said you were my home, and I was yours.”

These words are true.

But these ideas are all simulation, are all romantic projection.

The BBC runs the headline: Ren Hang: Death of China’s Hotshot Erotic Photographer.

It is all romantic projection.

He is not an erotic photographer. He is, unapologetically, a se qing photographer, an artist of the bizarre and the beautiful, unmarried to any creed or movement, an artist brazenly throwing forth pictures of a violent peace, an artist, an artist, an artist. A mere observer of his world.

And he is, by no means, a hotshot. He is simply a student of the human condition—what his lover calls, “a kid who loves life, but lacks the skills to live it.” He is only human, diseased and obsessed, incurable and in love.

So more than likely,

When Ren Hang steps into the sky,

He does not take note of the clouds reflected in the windows of the office building tearing through space, or the dusky thrush floating above him. He does not see his mother’s stern face or hear the voice of Huang Jiaqi.

More than likely,

He thinks of nothing.

When Ren Hang steps into the sky,

He refuses to become the brightest light.

The brightest light is too fast.

Kendra Clark is a New York-based editorial content creator and part-time residential student in the creative writing master’s program at the University of Cambridge. Her poetry and nonfiction have appeared in or are forthcoming in Into the Void magazine, The Evansville Review, Emrys Journal, and more.

[spnfanficpond]

October 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with @evansrogerskitten tonight! Thank you so much for joining us and sharing your wisdom!

Today, we got together and talked about writing smut! We discussed the legalities around sharing smut on the internet, vocabulary choices, created a spreadsheet of terms we can all share and use, and encouraged each other to not be afraid to just write. A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut. Due to the nature of the chat, there may be some parts of this recap that might be considered NSFW. 

To start us off, @mrswhozeewhatsiswrites shared some research into the legalities of posting erotica on the internet as it relates to minors. (We are not legal experts. This information was obtained through Google searches. If anyone can provide links to sources that contradict these, we will add them to this post to ensure the most correct information is provided here.)

Michelle: To try and keep it short and sweet, from everything I read, if a minor reads smut online, it's not the writer's, poster's, or web site's responsibility to keep it from them. It is the parent's, or the school's/library's responsibility. (Basically, whoever is providing the internet connection to the minor is responsible for filtering out content that might be harmful to that minor, not the parties creating or disseminating that content online.) Schools and libraries and other institutions that get government funds are usually required to have some sort of filter in place to prevent minors from accessing porn and erotica. 

What makes this so difficult to research is that written erotica is not mentioned very often in obscenity laws. Most laws focus on images or videos, not the written word. 

No matter what it is, though, to be prosecuted under obscenity laws, the material must first be ruled to be obscene. Legally, there is a difference between obscenity and erotica. Obscenity is generally illegal, and erotica is protected speech. There are many different sets of rules and guidelines that have been used to determine if something is considered obscene or not. The most widely used current set of guidelines is the Miller test. From my research, most (if not all) erotic fan fiction would not be considered obscene because of its ‘literary, artistic, political, or scientific value’.

Some interesting links in relation to this subject that go into detail:

Wikipedia - US Obscenity Law - About halfway down, there is a section on non image-based obscenity cases in the US. The first part of this section, which deals with the written word, is very enlightening about the differences between obscenity and erotica. Further down is a section about criticism of the laws which shows some of the gaps in the law where free speech lives. Continuing on, the section about censorship in schools and libraries explains the part CIPA (Children’s Internet Protection Act) plays in protecting minors from material that could be considered harmful to them.

Online Art Rights - Sexual Content - This site details the many attempts at limiting indecent material on the internet through the years. (Scroll down and click on the plus signs in the black bars to expand each section.) In each case cited, the court ruled that to ban all objectionable material would interfere with free speech because it would reduce all content to a level appropriate for children. They also concluded that since less restrictive means exist, such as user-controlled filters and the like, those tools can be used without reducing all discourse on the internet. The section on Child Pornography at the bottom might be of interest to anyone who writes Weecest smut, though.

The only possible exception that I think would affect the SPN fandom would be those who write Weecest smut. Child pornography seems to be the exception to every rule that protects free speech. Where every other depiction of a sex act might have a ‘but’ that makes it erotica (and therefore legal) instead of obscenity, child pornography in any medium is considered obscenity. Anything that even just looks like child porn is considered child porn, even if no children were a part of the making of it. This includes cartoons and CGI and adults made up to look like kids. If it’s advertised as children in a sexual situation, it’s child porn. So, I imagine it could extend to written erotica IF someone were to decide to push it.

Now, that’s a huge if. Someone would have to read it, object to it, and insist on prosecution for it. I think if that were going to happen, given 15 years of SPN fan fiction, it would have happened by now. But I would still keep my Weecest smut-free, or implied, or at least over the age of consent (which varies, so 18 is just easiest to use). 

Also, AO3 complies with the laws regarding filtering for minors. If you do not have an account, you are required to click through a step that tells you that you are about to view something explicit. That's really all that sites and such are required to do. Hence, Tumblr making you click through and view on dash blogs they mark as explicit.

@emilyshurley I think there might also be a sorta solution just to play it safe. I saw that people who make mods for games like Sims 4 and stuff have a page for terms of download. What that is is that if you click their masterlist it will take you to a post where they list their conditions and have the words "I agree" and link the actual masterlist to that. Now this might take a little effort but we could add something similar before our masterlists.

This is all legal stuff, not site-specific rules. Each site can implement their own decency rules and enforce them how they see fit. For example, Tumblr, as a company, can decide to delete your blog. (They’ve stopped doing this since The Purge, now just marking each blog explicit and making you click on a couple things to get to those blogs they deem explicit.) Should they choose to do this, it does not mean that you’re in trouble with the law.

Now, onto the fun stuff!

Q: What is the first thing you think of when someone asks you for advice about writing smut?

Ash: Word choice- don't make the reader cringe. It's easy to fall into that because smut can be graceful and tasteful if it's done right. And that starts with thinking through word choice and how the scene is flowing. It's not easy to write smut! I think a lot of non-writer readers do not realize that.

Note: During the chat, we created a Google Sheets spreadsheet, with two sheets in it, with lists of words to use to refer to different things when you’re writing smut. The first sheet is Good Words, and the second sheet is Bad Words. Everyone can enter words they like and don’t like on both sheets, and we’ll crowd-source this problem! Check it out and add your favorites!

Michelle: A smut scene takes ten times as long for me to write as anything else. Just keeping track of limbs is difficult! And clothing....sometimes, I just make them dry hump so I don't have to deal with removing all the clothing! Other times, it's just, "Somehow, you suddenly found yourself naked." Like, there's a million great ways to get characters naked, but if I'm tired, angels snap.

@fictionalabyss (Mel): I've read stuff where a position makes no sense and it ruins the whole thing for me. Michelle: I actually bought a couple of those posable dolls from IKEA. (IKEA - GESTALTA, Artist’s figure)  @babypieandwhiskey (Cam): I’ll have to use my daughter’s old Barbie dolls! I can keep track of both limbs and clothing!

Q: Ash, what are a few of the words that turn you off when you're reading smut?

Ash: It's usually words that sound so "romance novel"-ish to me. So "turgid member" is a good example. Please no one ever write that. Mel: Sometimes, keeping it simple is the safest and best bet. Ash: Absolutely, Mel! Sometimes we don't need all the extra words if we're showing the heat that's already there between them. 

[What followed was a long discussion of various terms you definitely should not use in serious smut. They’ve all been added to the spreadsheet linked above, so fee free to check it out.]

Michelle: EVERYONE has those words that squick them, and it's damn near impossible to write a smut scene that doesn't include a word that will squick someone out there. So, don't stress about what words you do or don't use, cuz there's always gonna be someone out there who doesn't like something. Just make sure YOU think what you're writing is hot. If you don't get warm under the collar from it, no one else will, either. Ash: I highly recommend everyone is reading their fics out loud to see how it all flows. You'll catch errors and weird words there too.

Q: Ash, how do you get in the frame of mind to write something you personally have never experienced? For example, certain kinks.

Ash: Whiskey? LOL No, I do a lot of research- google, porn, erotica. Trying something out in person helps too! But we're writing fiction. You can make a kink work for your scenario too.I mean, I've written a reader squirting after 5 minutes to move things along but we all know it takes longer usually. And that's the fun! I've never actually been with 2 dudes but I f-ing love writing it. @atc74 (Angelina): I've always said I don't need to kill someone to write a murder scene. Ash: Smut is all about having an open mind. It lets us and the readers be someone else. 

Question submitted earlier by @erins-culinary-service: I've wanted to try writing smut but never known exactly how to start and what words to use to describe everything. I've had sex so I know the sensations, positions, etc I'm just not sure how to write it all down any advice?

Ash: So sometimes I can't just start from "they kissed..." I start wherever I can see it best. So is it oral sex, or already doing it, I just jump in. And then I come back and fill it in. And I just write, no stopping once I get going. So the "cock into her hole" can be fixed later on my next edit. I just gotta get the idea out and then go back and make it hot. My smut is never hot in my first draft.  Michelle: I think that's what stops a lot of writers, is thinking they have to publish their first draft. Editing is totally a thing. Just get the ideas on paper, and then make them hot later. Ash: Oh yeah, I go through at least 3 drafts per fic. Plus my beta version. Yeah, no one is ever going to see your drafts so don't worry about starting somewhere, anywhere.  Michelle: And remember, practice practice practice - As with any writing, the more you write it, the easier it becomes. I wrote Third Wheel as a way to challenge myself with writing smut. Do a kink bingo or alphabet challenge. Just remember, you’re gonna write crap at the start, but crap makes good compost. Ash: Taking some time between edits is important too. It'll help you see different ways, AND you'll start having breakthroughs during the time away. Bingos are a great challenge that will help a writer grow.  Cam: Writing smut is like sex, you're first time is going to be awkward and things won't be perfect, but with practice it gets better. Mel: I have a series that shows even the millionth time having sex isn't perfect and can be all laughs 🤣. But yeah.

Question submitted earlier by @focusonspn: i wanted to know about ways and words to describe orgasms and how to approach the moment after it without being awkward or forced. some people say those are the easiest things to write, but somehow i always have a hard moment trying to write them.

Ash: Hmmmm, as for the moments after- that's understandable, it is hard because its a transition. I think it's doesn't have to be an extended part of it- unless they're about to have a talk or aftercare needs a scene, it can be as simple as "we drifted off to sleep." Michelle: As always, my advice is to read smut that other people write that you like, and take note of what they do. Mel: Someone can get up and get dressed and leave. They can play in the fluids. They can lay there catching their breaths for a moment. It can be simple. Sometimes it doesn't need a flourish and that flourish can make it seem forced. Michelle: I think it depends on what type of smut fic you're writing. Is it fluffy smut where they're all in LOVE and kissy and stuff? Or is it Soulless Sam and Demon Dean just getting down and dirty and claiming you for themselves? Or, Soulless Sam or Demon Dean just getting their rocks off and they don't give a shit? @emilyshurley (Emily): Also this might be my f*cked up brain but I think if someone is not comfortable with a lot of fluffy buildup to smut trying soulless!Sam or Demon!Dean could be a great start. You also have a little room to do a little out of character.  Michelle: We are blessed with a world that includes all types of characters and all types of situations, from curses (sex pollen, love potions, etc) to supernatural beings, to inspire and give us chances to write all kinds of smut. There are no limits to what you can do in Supernatural, so there are no limits to what we can write.  Ash: Yeah we can really make most kinks work in some way in the SPN worlds.  Emily: Also again with going out of character I read a captain America fic where it could have been a little out of character how he jumped straight to sex (someone commented that) but sex pollen made it work. So basically these tropes/kinks can also be good devices for writing NSFW fics to if you struggle to get the characters write in the beginning.

Other links mentioned:

Emily: I saw this advice list on Tumblr, so thought I should share it: List of Smut Writing Guides

Ash: This one, too: @smut-101′s Smut Tips Masterlist 

And last, but definitely not least...

Ash: Always, always, always write for you. Readers come and go but you have to be satisfied and proud of what you've written. And everyone should get so much credit for trying to write smut. It's difficult but its does get easier and more fun with practice!

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever!

Reminders:

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

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

Say hi to September’s New Members!

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

We don’t have a topic or speaker set up for November’s event, yet, so if there’s something you want to talk about, or someone you want to talk to, LET US KNOW!

[lichtweh]

sunshine yoonkook / gen / 3.8k // for drea ♥

prompt: A. “Ow! What was that for?! 8. “Its not like you gave me a choice.”

(yoonkook, geckos and coincidences)

_______________________________________________

“oh, go back!”

“no, his eyes are—”

“no, the one before that—this one. this one’s cute.”

“ohh. that’s a trustworthy face.”

yoongi has to squint at the phone screen thrust dangerously close to his face, leaning back from the approximately 78th picture of some reptile he’s been made to look at only today. which should be annoying, because he never asked for even one of them, but he’s used to these happenings by now. this particular creature, like all the ones before it, is lanky with big round eyes and a wide mouth that sort of looks like a derpy smile from the front. he looks up at taehyung opposite him, a wide derpy smile on his face. yoongi shrugs.

“trustworthy. why not.”

the first hour, jimin was still trying to argue that pets aren’t allowed in the dorms and they know nothing of lizards or how to take care of any living organism for that matter. taehyung pointed out they were doing well enough in taking care of yoongi, and yoongi grumbled his disagreement into his americano, face behind a hand, but nobody listened. they’ve been immersed in browsing pictures of their soon-to-be new family member since.

yoongi doesn’t bother to ask why it can’t just be a hamster—the expected might just be too boring for them. it wouldn’t quite be them, either.

he lets his head rest on his palm again, the slightest quirk to his mouth, ready to drift off until the next time his valuable opinion is needed.

admittedly, he doesn’t mind it. he’s thankful, even, no matter how ridiculous their topics of conversation can get. it’s a welcome distraction and fun and although he rarely says it in words, the way they carry on despite his eye-rolls and sighs tells him they know as much.

he sent jimin a text at three a.m. the previous night, asking if he thought yoongi could make a career as a cashier in a convenience store when he can’t even say one sentence right, and he doesn’t know what grammar is, and he doesn’t even like people all that much but he needs some career perspective and money and he likes night shifts and maybe he’s really a gremlin deep inside and gremlins can’t produce music so it only makes sense that he’s failing everything and namjoon is disappointed in him.

it made sense at three a.m.

jimin almost broke down his door with taehyung in tow before noon, bodily dragging him out of his cave to save his life and sanity. yoongi barely complained.

now they’re sat in yoongi’s favorite café on campus, and he didn’t think himself one of these people to sit in a café or coffee shop for hours to relax or even work, but—it’s cozy here, light earthy colors, low mid-tempo beats, soft cushions. seokjin had told him about it more than a month ago, mindful of his taste. it became one of the few comfort zones he has outside of his dorm room and the one studio that isn’t his, necessarily, but it’s the same one he goes to every time.

they’re all the way in a corner without windows, yoongi guarded by a wall at his back and side, and jimin and taehyung’s lizard discourse in front of him. it’s pleasant.

then the boy walks in. the boy.

the most beautiful boy yoongi has ever seen.

the bell chimes with yet another customer coming in, yoongi only half paying attention, lazy eyes slow around the scenery. but then he sees who it is, straightening in his seat, because in through the door comes—an angel. the angel. a boy sculpted by god himself, perfect skin, sun-kissed honey-glow, terribly sweet. probably. it looks like it. shiny soft hair, hazelnut, yoongi wants to touch it. just to know what heaven feels like beneath his fingers, once. his eyes are so big, glancing around as he steps up to the line in front of the counter. he checks the menu above it, gaze drawn to the snacks in the glass display. his eyes seem to glitter somehow.

he’s a student, too—young, ripped jeans, earrings, a worn backpack slung over one shoulder. also, they’re on campus right now. in yoongi’s new favorite café. it’s the only place he ever sees the boy.

it’s not why it’s his favorite, but both facts happen to be true at the same time.

the pretty boy turns his head in their direction and yoongi stares down at his americano, his hand around the cup, the bracelet on his wrist. silver, big chain links, it’s his favorite one. hoseok gifted it to him last year. taehyung and jimin are still huddled together, whispering. yoongi glances back up.

the gorgeous boy advances towards the counter. unsurprisingly, his profile is as aesthetically pleasing to look at as ever. he has a pronounced nose, and yoongi is mostly ambivalent about noses, most of the time, but it’s a good nose. a pretty one. the curve of his lips is pretty, too, his jaw sharp. his neck—

“hyung.”

a foot digs into his ankle and yoongi kicks his own out on reflex, hitting a target. jimin groans, eyeing him sharply.

“so what do you think, hyung?”

“about what?”

the boy’s wearing a giant yellow sweater today; it engulfs his entire form, falling all the way down to mid-thigh, making him look small and cute. soft. yoongi’s never seen a boy this soft.

he inhales deeply, curling both hands around his knees to alleviate the urge to squeeze.

a fake cough distracts him.

jimin’s looking at taehyung. taehyung turns to look at yoongi.

“what?”

“nothing, hyung.”

jimin’s mouth and eyes start to curl in a way that sends shivers down yoongi’s spine, fox-like and nothing but trouble. yoongi shrugs a shoulder, deflecting with raised hands.

“i’m still not into reptile talks, you can handle your family issues yourselves. fight it out in the parking lot, i don’t care.”

with two judgemental gazes on him, yoongi keeps his own low. he snatches his phone up to scroll through his five notifications, all from namjoon, in varying degrees of panic over the right choice of backing track for their assignment due next week. yoongi should answer, but his brain still feels like shapeless goo wobbling around in his skull pointlessly. jello. his brain is jello. that’s why he’s here, with jimin and taehyung and their gecko dilemma, because he’s heard tiny cute animals have healing effects. he’s waiting for it to kick in.

in his peripheral, the sun-yellow sweater makes it to the counter. the boy’s mouth moves slowly, attention still drawn to the sweets. he caves more often than not, but his determination is worth pointing out regardless. he’s athletic enough that some snacks shouldn’t matter, skinny jeans having brought yoongi to the brink of death by choking on a coffee before, but he’s conflicted anyway. maybe it’s a sporty-person thing, like diets, or attempting to live healthily; yoongi wouldn’t know about that. the employee isn’t done typing in the order when the boy says something else, then bows a little and steps aside to wait.

he always waits by the register, and yoongi’s never been close enough to catch his name.

it’s not like yoongi’s here all the time—it is his favorite place to go to outside his own spaces, but he only comes here once a week week. maybe twice, he isn’t counting. he may drop by every other day for a coffee to go, which doesn’t count.

it’s the only place he ever spots the boy. it’s been a few weeks.

yoongi can’t hear his name when he hurries to take his order this time, either. a barista slides over a small plate with a slice of cake on it, and the boy grabs for it immediately, hands emerging from the depths of the sweater. he takes his drink a beat later, almost an afterthought. the corners of yoongi’s mouth twitch.

he straightens to full height to look around for a place to sit. it’s crowded at this time of day, people pouring in for lunch break before afternoon classes, almost all seats taken by students chatting or working or procrastinating on work by chatting with their friends instead. it’s what yoongi’s doing. yoongi tries to lower his gaze.

taehyung says, way too loud:

“over here!”

yoongi snaps his eyes up—taehyung is turned around in his seat, hand raised, motioning at the boy. the boy is now looking towards them. panic bursts in yoongi’s stomach, rushes up his throat and through his veins and he instinctively kicks taehyung in the shin.

“ow—what was that for?!” taehyung lowers his hand, damage already done.

“what are you doing,” yoongi hisses back, taking note of the splash of yellow moving towards their corner.

“it’s not like you gave me a choice.” taehyung shrugs, no remorse in his eyes.

jimin, on the other hand, glares at yoongi, gently rubbing at taehyung’s knee. “this is a chance. take it, old man.” that’s not even where yoongi hit him. maybe he should’ve aimed for jimin instead.

the boy comes up to their table, steps slow. he looks between them, question obvious, and jimin smiles at him, expression bright in a split-second. yoongi continues to glare at taehyung.

“it’s pretty full right now, so we thought you could sit with us if you wanted to.”

“oh,” the boy says.

oh.

what a pretty voice. airy, light, yoongi feels a breeze around his head. he stops glaring at taehyung.

taehyung, who is opposite him, jimin glued to his side. sitting with them means—

“yeah, i—that’d be great, thank you.”

the syllables come out flowing, gentle, like a cozy yellow sweater—followed by a bow of his head, soft strands bouncing along with it.

yoongi feels warm already.

he shifts to his left, further into the corner, to offer more space. when the boy catches his eyes, he adds an affirmative nod. it’s not that yoongi doesn’t want him here; it’s that yoongi would prefer not to spontaneously combust into flames of gay panic. not in public.

“i’m jimin.”

“i’m taehyung.”

jimin smiles readily, comfortable even with strangers. taehyung mirrors him, a hand raised in a tiny wave, as the unknown beautiful boy sits down.

his voice is honey-gold, clear, glittering right next to yoongi. “ah, hi. i’m jungkook.”

jungkook.

taehyung and jimin throw yoongi a look, and yoongi scratches at the back of his head, meeting the other’s eyes only briefly.

“yoongi,” he murmurs.

jungkook. he can feel jungkook’s body at his side, in the warmth and slight movement against their shared seat and it’s a bit distracting. he frowns down at his cup. there’s barely anything left, so he nibbles at the straw to not have to talk.

taehyung leans halfway across the table, back arched and arms flat on the surface, elbows to palms.

“do you like geckos?”

jungkook says he does—although even yoongi might say that out of politeness and obligation in return for a seat—and so he gets a quick rundown of their so far favorite candidates, pictures held to his face as he sips on his drink. it’s light brown, lots of milk, probably sugary. sweet. it’s fitting. he nods and hums at appropriate times, echoes in question at breaks in their storytelling. he sounds earnest.

jimin and taehyung strike up conversations easily—include jungkook easily, no hesitance, all open gestures and genuine smiles. they don’t need to ask questions: they offer up little bits of themselves and invite anyone willing to join. it’s how they got to yoongi, too—and he still sticks around.

there’s a wish to say something, to engage, too, pressing into his lungs. but he can’t bring order to the disarray in his head, what to say, how to start, would jungkook care? what relevant information could yoongi even contribute to their talk? he doesn’t know anything about geckos, he’s never had a pet.

yoongi listens to them, usually comfortable as an observer, eyes dropped to his phone. he drags his finger down the screen again, lets go, watches a tiny line go around in circles. nothing new since a minute ago.

jungkook only touches his cake after his coffee is empty, careful tiny bites he takes his time to savor.

“is cheesecake your favorite?”

jungkook hums in affirmation around a bite.

“i think the strawberry shortcake here is the best,” jimin muses.

“i still think you don’t know what a strawberry shortcake is supposed to taste like. the IT’s café has the better one.”

“how many times—”

then taehyung yelps, jimin’s body flung against his, squishing him against the wall. he tells jimin to stop, but he starts laughing, and jimin’s shape only melts into his further. yoongi doesn’t check how many heads are turned their way; he watches the loading circle go round and round.

“uhm, you—” jungkook angles his body towards yoongi, and he has to speak up a bit, laughter tinkling around them, “what course are you in?”

his voice comes out in careful tiny pieces, one after the other, sweet and lightweight. it’s nice.

yoongi lets his gaze drift over, but it gets stuck on jungkook’s cheek. there’s a small scar there.

“uh, music.” he clears his throat. “composition.”

“oh,” jungkook breathes. “me too.”

yoongi snaps his eyes up. jungkook’s are already on him, wide.

“i mean—” the boy tenses, leaning back a little. “not composition, i’m in the vocal department, but—i just, i love music,” he murmurs into his chest, “is what i mean.”

“oh.”

yoongi chews on his words, nothing valuable assembling right in his mind. oh, he’s so endearing in person. oh, he loves music, too. oh, he must sound breathtaking when he sings.

taehyung’s foot nudges his. yoongi blinks to attention.

“oh, huh. i’ve never seen you in the music halls before.”

“you speed-walk to class and back and never pay attention to other people, so i’m not sure that statement is worth anything, to be honest.”

yoongi kicks at jimin’s legs, but jimin dodges it. he’s half on top of taehyung, head on his shoulder. not to tickle him anymore, but now just because.

there’s a soft snort to yoongi’s right. something does a little jump in his chest.

yoongi looks over and jungkook turns his head the other way, subtle flush to his cheeks. pretty.

“ah, well. it’s true, i guess,” yoongi shifts in his seat, twirls his straw between his thumb and pointer.

jungkook shakes his head.

“ah, it’s okay, we probably don’t have the same classes, so.” he shrugs. “freshman, here.”

yoongi regards him closely, tension visible in the line of his back.

“senior,” he offers as response.

jungkook keeps averting his gaze, but his eyes are bright and attentive nonetheless; he’s probably a good observer. he listens well, too. yoongi feels comfortable with this, even though he’s a complete stranger. an unfairly attractive one at that.

“so you can make music? yourself?”

jungkook speaks with awe, eyes glinting. there’s a loud thud inside yoongi’s ribcage.

“uhm, yeah. i can. i compose and produce, mostly for classes right now and a lot is classical but—i also make stuff for myself, on the side, so…”

yoongi touches a hand to his ear, thumbing at the silver hoop in his lobe. talking about his music feels both necessary and embarrassing at the same time. he wants it to be out there, in the world, someday, in some form. but it’s also the most private part of him that exists, put into notes and beats and given a name and saved on a hard drive. someone can click on it, and there it will be: a part of yoongi, in melodies and lyrics, playing from a speaker. yoongi draws his arms closer.

“oh, that’s so cool.”

jungkook all but whispers, eyes so round. yoongi catches his gaze, and then doesn’t know what to do when he gets stuck there. his eyes are pretty. chestnut. he means it.

“ah, it—” yoongi shrugs, drawing a blank. jungkook hurries on.

“i mean, i have no idea how to do that, really, that’s so cool. i’ve tried, but it was so bad.”

now jungkook is running a hand through his hair, tugging the strands behind his ear.

“all i can do is sing, but lots of people can, and—” his shoulders are drawn up, tight, “ah, composing must be such hard work.”

“singing is hard work, too,” yoongi furrows his brows. “you have to practice it too, just like composition. like any other craft. not everyone can sing well or pursue it.”

jungkook has his bottom lip between his teeth, looking up from beneath his lashes. his mouth moves silently around thought after thought, until one makes it out.

“thank you,” he exhales. yoongi isn’t sure what for.

jungkook looks up at him earnestly, and yoongi averts his gaze. he swallows hard.

taehyung brings a hand down in front of them with a loud smack.

“so!”

jimin has his chin propped up on his palm, lips curved in a way that makes vague dread climb up yoongi’s spine. jungkook blinks at taehyung.

“we have to go now, but we were wondering—”

yoongi straightens at that, ignoring the pang of disappointment low in his gut. he looks at taehyung, but taehyung subtly gestures for him to stay put.

“if you’d maybe like to hang out sometime,” jimin finishes, smile genuine for jungkook.

“oh,” jungkook’s fingers curl in his sleeves. “oh, yeah, sure.”

“hey,” something doesn’t sit right with yoongi here. these two are straightforward and sociable, to a point where someone like himself has trouble to not be overwhelmed by it. if jungkook is anything close to the impression yoongi has of him, this is moving a little fast. a little too intentional. “he doesn’t even know you, can you come off any stronger?”

“so he can get to know us!”

“who ever said he wants to?”

“he wants to, doesn’t he?”

“how can you—”

“ah, it’s—it’s okay!” jungkook raises his hands. his gaze flicker between them, voice thin. “i still don’t have many friends here yet, so—yeah. yeah, why not?”

his smile is lopsided, a hand back in his hair.

“cool,” jimin beams, eyes crinkling. he looks childlike and innocent like this—a very misleading effect, yoongi learned.

“let’s exchange numbers.”

jungkook has a bit of a flush to his cheeks, but he nods. he pulls his phone from his pocket, and yoongi can only watch in both excitement and dread. he knows jimin and taehyung. there will be more to this at some point.

jimin adds, “ah but—”

or right now.

“we don’t have our phones with us, so could you just give your number to yoongi?”

yoongi blinks. 78 gecko pictures, within only two hours. he pointedly directs his gaze to where he assumes taehyung’s jeans pocket is.

“the batteries just died. both. a real shame,” jimin rushes.

they’re out of the seats in a second, removing their legs from kicking distance just in time. they dare to throw this at him so offhandedly, no hint of regret or shame. yoongi stares at them until his eyes sting. jimin flashes a brilliant smile.

“uh.” jungkook mumbles, and yoongi doesn’t want to look.

“ignore them,” he grimaces, “you don’t have to.”

“ah, uhm—” jungkook’s eyes dart between the three of them. “okay.”

because it isn’t bad enough yet, jimin and taehyung just stand there, waiting to see it unfold in all the ugly details. jungkook throws a few awkward glances yoongi’s way, and—yoongi actually has to take part in this now. he unlocks his phone with stiff fingers and opens a new contact form, then slides it over the table, careful and slow. there are two pairs of eyes on them. jungkook’s a bit pink around the nose.

he has pretty, slender fingers, silver rings on both hands. he holds yoongi’s phone with care, thumbing in his number before giving it back. yoongi stares at it. jungkook.

taehyung claps his hands.

“great! thank you so much.”

“we’ll be going now.”

“have fun you two.”

taehyung grins wide, and yoongi doesn’t care to find out what kind of expression jimin has on his traitor face. yoongi’s sort of curiously grateful, sort of about to excuse himself and run. jimin and taehyung are sort of dead to him right now.

for an hour or two, at least.

they wave enthusiastically and all but flee outside. taehyung pulls out his phone as they exit the door.

yoongi slumps in his seat with a groan.

“sorry about them,” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i can delete your number, don’t worry about it.”

“ah,” jungkook’s voice is soft, gentle. he’s a soft, gentle boy. he doesn’t deserve to be pushed into anything like this.

“no, i—” there’s shuffling, and yoongi cracks an eye open to jungkook fidgeting in his seat, hands hidden in his sleeves. he stares at the table. “it’s okay.”

truthfully, it’s hard to ignore: the chaos and pounding behind his ribs. yoongi swallows around the lump in his throat.

“yeah?”

his voice comes out raspy, strangely weak.

jungkook takes a careful look at him, from his eyes down his face, over his slumped shoulders and the leather jacket and black ripped jeans. then he stares at his plate as if it wasn’t empty, but there’s a slow quirk to his lips.

“yeah.”

warmth bursts in his middle, sudden but gentle, calms the nervous flutter down to a pleasant buzz. yoongi licks his lips and straightens up with a hum.

“so…”

he spent an embarrassing amount of time admiring this boy from afar, never taking a single step towards him. he didn’t intend to, not keen on leaving his comfort zone when he doesn’t have to, on putting himself out there for a stranger to say yes or no. maybe if it was coincidence—if coincidence put them together, he would say something.

jimin and taehyung are coincidence, in his life and in general, so it counts.

maybe seokjin, too.

yoongi gently nudges jungkook’s arm with his own to catch his gaze. it– he—is sort of breathtaking, up close. yoongi nods at the empty plate.

“another cheesecake?”

“oh, you don’t have to,” he starts, eyes going round, but yoongi raises a hand to stop him.

“as an apology… because that was mortifying. let me get you another.” yoongi rubs at his nose, face warm.

he tried not to sound too eager, but he clearly sounds too eager. jungkook bites down on a grin.

“and you can tell me more about that singing thing. if you want to.”

jungkook’s smile is a flower here: it grows from an unassuming curve, slowly, surely; stretches out bigger and fuller and blossoms so beautifully, he’s beautiful—cheeks bunched up, eyes in crescents, sparkling so bright.

“yeah, i’d like that a lot.”

[lizthefangirl]

So.

I’ve had a good, long think about some things in my life, particularly how integral this blog has been to it for the past five years—and have finally come to understand what I’ve been running from for a while now: 

I’m very dependent on it—too dependent on it. 

When I say that, I mean all of the fandoms therein, the humor, the [often uhhh slightly biased] discourse. . . I can’t recall ever going over a week without engaging in my blog for five and-a-half years now. And I’m starting to get curious as to just how much time I’ve wasted, how much negativity I’ve been exposed to, how many addictions have been reinforced—and what exactly would happen if I gave that up for a bit.

In religious terms, it’s “fasting.” And I am religious. It’s something I very rarely directly discuss on here. In the past two years of college, I’ve gone from calling myself a Christian to actually investigating theology, having an incredible, unexpected, unconditionally loving family in Christ—and overall, having to face some really tough things about the way I’ve lived, and how unhealthy some of it was. 

It’s so challenging, especially as an artist, to participate in a community where unbelief is sometimes still spiritual, where everything is questioned (which is actually a very good thing), where it’s often quite literally all about sex and money and yes—drugs and everything else. And where it’s essentially not quite normal to be what I’m trying to be. Yet, it’s not that I’ve met any hostility—seriously, people have been far more accepting then I anticipated. I’m determined to be loving in spite of it, to believe in the Gospel in spite of all of the flack people give it (to put it lightly), while still acknowledging the very human faults of many branches of the faith and doing my best to renounce them, and live a better way,  

It’s still devastatingly difficult to constantly be surrounded by these groups of people though, though—even if it is a reflection of a lot of the world. But art is the industry I’ve always strived to be in, the skill I’ve been passionate about my whole life. I’m determined to come out of it successful and resilient in my faith—and maybe even earn respect in the process. I’m still learning, and being exposed to the world. It’s been a wild ride, certain to get wilder.

This kind of parallels the world of Tumblr. I follow a lot of people (they stack up over five years), and discourse that didn’t bother me years ago leaves me uncomfortable now. Things I used to indulge in that developed into a very personal, internalized addiction (which I’ve since finally sought some help for in trusted friends and mentors). 

For a platform on which I’ve always thought I was being myself, I realize that I was being a version of myself that was, frankly, engulfed in sin. And that language makes me cringe a little bit, it really does. Because the negativity that has been associated to Christianity is something that weighs on me every single day, and I get it—you don’t know how much I get it. I have spent the past two years being a fish out of water, being the one who accidentally cusses during service (quite frequently), who cuts up. And I’ve questioned everything, I still do. But. . . it’s standing up to it. This God, this theology, these beliefs—nothing has managed to crack against my questions and doubts yet. And I’ve seen change, felt it. I travelled to another country and felt it more intensely then I ever have in America.

In the past couple years, I’ve separated from some of my closest friends—including my best friend of seven years. The principle reason was our divergent lifestyles. I have been shockingly better off since then.

If I can do that in my everyday life—with people I know and love—why is it so hard to do it to people I have never remotely known? 

Why does that follower count matter to me so much? Why does pre-meditating everything I post, analyzing notes, seeking personal replies—why is that more important to me than doing my work? Forming relationships?

It’s a big, big question that I simply don’t know the answer to (okay, the answer is “because my ego” but i don’t wanna admit that so). But I’m asking it—and for once, that’s not all I’m doing. 

I’m not happy on here anymore, not really. Like yes, I love these stories I’m so invested in. So much! And I’m not ashamed of that, or of anyone else who does. Even though some have. . . well, had negative effects. Do I have to go there? Read between the lines, y’all. 

It’s just that everything I post—even my artwork—becomes a need for response, for validation. That’s what those notes are. They’re fleeting acknowledgement, and I feed on it. Creating fan art is a privilege—visually rendering the stories I read is a joy, and sharing it makes me so happy! But I have my own stories, too. And right now—I think I want to do something with that. 

I’m just tired of constantly monitoring the numbers. I’m tired of encountering things that I don’t want to encounter every time I scroll down my dash. It’s going to be hard to separate myself from it—but I have to try. 

As of right now, I’m going for 21 days. 21 days of not posting. Not reblogging. 21 days of not thirsting for notes. 21 days of getting ready to go back to college and eventually doing so, and seeing what else is out there besides this. 

I do love you guys—the ones I’ve known and spoken to for years. And literally anyone who has ever left a kind comment, or a like, or a reblog (and wasn’t a creep). This platform has transformed my life, and gotten me through a whole lot. More positive than negative has come from it, I think. I’ve developed an identity that has been problematic at times, but ultimately I wouldn’t change one bit. Because it’s gotten me here.

I’m just going to see what happens—I’m going to do this for myself, and see what happens. I think I’ll surprise myself and be fine. But this is a step towards living the lifestyle I want to live, that the people I admire most live. I’ve given my heart and soul and mind to this thing. I’m going to take them back for a while.

Until next time, with much love,

- Liz.xx

[3s0t3ric]

Vantage

Hi Friends, 

In scrolling around the creative circles I’ve found myself apart of I was inspired to find a wedding cake that was hung upside down to allow for easier maneuvering by guests. How insightful. I thought of other things in my daily life that use this principle. There is also a hanging basket design that goes through apartment gardening discourses where one plant, usually tomatoes, are planted 180 degrees inverted, to maximize soil space, therefore also maximizing fruiting plant production. In looking at my life, I have thought of each design that work by being upside down.

I saw a conceptual cross over as well with a beginner drawing exercise I had learned in my first drawing class. Turning the reference photo upside down is a vantage point our brains are not often exposed to, therefore challenging your mind to look for the shapes, shading and visual architecture that has been in front of you all along, that you have yet to be exposed to. With this in mind I thought, what else have I missed being right side up? What else have I missed by neglecting to take in every vantage point of the world around me? 

When I started to dive into this I started to become more intentional about the way I perceived things. Not only physically manipulating knick knacks and such I find in my surroundings but also dissecting how I knew what I knew, and how I could replicate the results of others. Their tools, but also their insight they needed to accomplish the feats that stand in front of me.

In my sensory and perception class I had learned more about how our body perceives the world around us, and what our brain does with this information. Similar to looking into your own reflection in a spoon, our eyes actually mirror the sensation of the world around us to be both upside down and flipped horizontally. A sensation in the top right of your field of vision is percieved by the bottom left sensory neurons. Because of this, our brain has evolved to reassess these sensations to perceive them into the correct position where they exist in the space around us. 

It seems as if our bodies know the world around us, but sometimes our brains only highlight what is needed for the means of productivity. Our brains know we benefit from seeing right side up for things like coordination and balance in navigation (this is called proprioception; or were our body is in space) however it largely discounts the benefits we may find from exploring the would in this flipped state. This is an extremely primitive development our brain has made to our senses to better navigate the world, but what would happen if we intentionally fought some of these autopilot responses?

Step out of autopilot and take a second without the interpretation of your brain to make your own notes around the world.

You'll start to notice the beauty in your daily commute.

You'll start to notice your friends chipped tooth actually holds a fond childhood memory.

You'll start to notice your daily rituals hold the success from just days before as they slowly solidify in habits.

Suddenly nothing is good, nothing is bad, no positives no negatives.

It just. Is.

Take a second to truly be with yourself and others. Intentionally fight the ordinary and celebrate the state that you are currently in before your mind flips it upside down, in all senses.

With these thoughts in mind I have intentionally flipped the orientation of my lock screen of my phone (album covers and a neon sign I found in a small boutique) to invite me to flip the narrative of the ordinary perception, and to consume the world around me without judgement of default perception.

Hang loose,

AK