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pinktom · 10 months

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hi pink I wanna ask how do you perceive tom in canon ? Do you think he had any chance for redemption? And would there relationship work in canon ?

Hi, Anon. Firstly, thanks for asking. 🐥 I welcome any and every opportunity to ramble about Tom. I could go on and on (and on). I really have too many thoughts to write in a single post, so I’ll just pick out a few things to talk about.

How do I perceive him in canon?

The canonical Tom Riddle is a purposefully flat and one-dimensional character; he’s a metaphor first and a character second. He personifies the absence of love, and more specifically, the absence of a mother’s love. And so—metaphorically—he is set up for his horrible fate the very moment Merope dies. Let’s look at the sentences describing his death.

“Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand."

Empty, vacant, unknowing. The diction reinforces a very interesting part of his characterization: He is not evil because he felt love and chose to reject it, but because he never experienced love at all, and was a vacant, hollow, unknowing person, incapable of even understanding it.

Beyond the metaphor, on a more literal level, he is perhaps physiologically incapable of love.

He is the product of an institutional upbringing, where all of his bare necessities were met, but he was never loved or given specific attention, causing a disturbance in his psychosocial development. In modern terms I would say his clinical trajectory was Reactive Attachment Disorder to Conduct Disorder to full-blown criminal psychopathy. These traits are also genetic, and as see each of the Gaunts were criminals, it’s no stretch to imagine Tom was born a loaded gun to start with.

Did he have a chance at redemption?

No, I don’t believe he did. I do not see any evidence Tom Riddle was capable of comprehending why his actions were evil, and so I do not believe he could have felt genuine remorse for them. (I am aware of the “he had Harry’s blood in his veins” loophole, but I don’t take it very seriously, it seems silly.)

And would Tomarry work in canon?

It’s tricky. I mean, fundamentally, my answer is, “Absolutely not.” But it’s no fun to say that without elaborating.

Tomarry fascinates me because of their parallels. Mostly, I’m interested in the connection they share as children who were severely emotionally neglected, raised by Muggle caretakers who held them in contempt because they were magical. We already see it in Chamber of Secrets.

Ron tried a different tack. “Riddle does sound like Percy — who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?” “But the monster had killed someone, Ron,” said Hermione. “And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts,” said Harry. “I don’t blame him for wanting to stay here…”

It’s telling what everyone focuses on. Ron sees a snitch, Hermione sees someone abiding just laws, and Harry sees himself: an orphan faced with returning to a Muggle home where he wasn’t loved. This is their core similarity.

Where they are different, is how they react. Harry craves the love of a family; Tom is radically alone. Being someone who direly wants love, and particularly, a father figure (re: Sirius, Dumbledore), Harry is vulnerable to rejection, and when he senses it, he internalizes it and feels bad about himself.

Tom also craves family, even if for different reasons. He was so obsessed with finding his parentage, it was one of the key details his former classmates spoke to Dumbledore. And, evidently, he does have some rejection sensitivity, because he has a raging complex about his father abandoning his mother. But instead of feeling like it reflects on his own lack of worth, he vengefully commits patricide!

I love the ship because I think there’s a lot to play with here. Harry’s neglect leads him to be self-sacrificing, to place a lower value on his life compared to others, and Tom’s neglect brings him to the exact opposite conclusions. As an orphan raised in Depression era London, Tom was no doubt treated like he was worthless, and at Hogwarts, he entered Slytherin in secondhand robes with a Muggle name. But yet, none of that stymied his confidence. He valued his life above all else, and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

The thing about this similarity that makes it quite difficult for them to work in canon, among other compelling factors… is Voldemort is the one who cold-blooded murders Harry’s parents and causes him to have this horrifying childhood! (And no, I don’t believe after this, there is ever a plausible chance for them to have any sort of romantic contact whatsoever, lol. I also have no )

However, in AUs, I think there’s infinite scenarios to explore this connection they have. And that’s why I love fanfiction. 🌷

#tom riddle #tomarry #harrymort #jesus christ i'm sorry this is so long lol #scheduled

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neon-draws-sometimes · 1 year

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IVE BEEN WORKING ON YHIS DANG WIP SIBCE DECEMBER

In the Back of My Mind

Prompt “you lied to me”

It was too bright and your eyes hurt. A sickly sweet smell, like medicine, stung your nose. You don’t know where you are. You barely remember who you are.

You remember a name though. Fresh. He’s important to you, but you don’t know why. Their name alone comforts you somewhat. If you’re seriously hurt or lost (kidnapped?) they’ll find you, right?

As you trudge on, you start to feel an odd sensation, but the only way you can think to describe it is becoming less and less real. It’s like the brightly colored walls are taking you in.

You sit down for just a second, that turns into a minute. You can’t get back up. Eventually it all fades to the black of unconsciousness.

You awake to find you have no idea where you are. As you look at the snow covered ground, a couple of things come back to you.

Your name is Error, previously Geno, even more previously Sans. You are in Snowdin, where you used to live. You used to destroy AUS of the multiverse.

You have a very bad memory, and you had forgotten your time being Sans and Geno for a long time.

Your friend Fresh visited you in your antivoid when you wouldn’t even get up in the morning (metaphorically, as in reality there is no time in the antivoid). They are your closest friend. They’re a parasite that feeds on souls and can feel no emotion but fear. And that’s okay. You don’t really blame him for it or anything. He didn’t ask to be a parasite or feed on souls. And he really helped you when you were down. Still does, honestly.

Oh yeah, and your eyesight is garbage. Fresh always tells you to wear your glasses, but they kinda embarrass you. The glasses, not Fresh. You feel like you should be able to do it yourself. You only let Fresh help because there’s no keeping him out. And it probably gives them something to do, anyways. You doubt he has any hobbies besides scaring random people and collecting old junk.

You don’t remember how you got to Snowdin though. Or why you were in that strange bright room earlier. You’re definitely still missing some pieces, but hopefully those will come back to you.

Also, you notice Snowdin somehow feels…perfect? Usually when you visit an AU’s Snowdin, it always feel slightly off in a way that drives you insane (and makes you miss what you’ve lost) but this one just feels right to you. Everything is exactly the way you remember it last.

While sneaking along the path to your house, the peaceful sound of silence fills your ears. Despite no one at all being out on the way to your home, you aren’t feeling creeped out, despite what this is usually a sign of. You don’t smell any dust in the air though, only the sharp smell of pine.

You make it to your house, which looks lovely lit up by the colorful lights hung on it, and try the door knob. The door slides open and you walk in, using all your strength not to run.

You walk over to the couch and sink into it, enjoying the familiar comfort. You close your eyes for just a moment, reliving your old lifetime.

You awake with a start to realize you’ve fallen asleep. Despite that, you’re still pretty tired. You feel kinda of drained even though you haven��t really done anything that demanding. Strange.

You sleepily pad about the house, finding interest in the minor things like the chips being the exact brand and flavor you like, or the fact that Papyrus’s room is locked. On second look, it seems like the chips are just crumbs. Sort of disappointing, but it makes sense considering this world was so empty.

Still tired, you decide to get comfortable in the couch again and soon fade into sleep again.

When you wake up, you decide it’s time for you to go. The empty au is peaceful, but Fresh is probably getting worried about your absence. Also, it could be dangerous if he chose to wait for you in the antivoid. You freeze for a second, immobilized by the thought that your mistakes have ruined another person’s life yet again. But you try to clear the thought away. Fresh is smart, and you’ve warned him before that antivoid was dangerous alone. But still, you worry.

As you stand there on the soft carpet of your living room, you start to understand something terrible. You can’t leave. No matter how you try, your magic won’t pull up the exit to your antivoid. Now you’re really stressing.

Fresh will probably tear the multiverse apart looking for you though. And you’ll end up okay. You hope.

You sit back in the couch and cradle your arms against your chest. You feel exhausted, even though you were just asleep.

Strangely, you think you hear footsteps outside. But you’re pretty sure this au is empt-

“GREETINGS BROTHER! I HAVE ARRIVED HOME FROM MY IMPORTANT TASK OF RESTORING SNOWDIN’S PUZZLES. AND I HAVE BROUGHT GROCERIES!”

Oh my god. It’s him. You have to get out of here before he notices yo-

“WELL, ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE, OR HELP ME OUT?” Papyrus inquires in your direction.

Is he talking to you? It can’t be possible, but you’re the only one here, and maybe this has a reasonable explanation? Maybe his brother was somehow also an error?lo

You gape at him for a couple more minutes before grabbing a bag of groceries and walking to the kitchen.

Alright, you can handle this… you’ll just help him out with the bags and then slip away to a different part if this world, and leave his real brother to explain.

As you open the fridge and deposit the chips from the bag, you ponder the surreal day you’ve been having. It’s been almost dreamlike in it’s bizarreness.

Later, you tell Papyrus you’re going to take a nap and walk out to waterfall. You keep going, letting your feet guide you. (Is that the saying.?) You run your hand along the familiar wall as until you reach a room. The telescope is just where you left it and sit against the wall. You’ll just have to wait until somebody finds you. You can’t go back to Papyrus now.

You hear crunching gravel coming closer to you and realize you had closed you eyes again. You open them to see the surprisingly welcome sight of absurdly saturated shoes, which of course belong to Fresh. You almost sigh aloud on relief. Now that he found you, you can go home.

You’re sure he knows a way. If it can find a way at into your Antivoid, it can probably get you out of here, right?

You want to say something but you don’t know what, and it seems he doesn’t either. You both stare at each other for a long moment as the silence stretches on, before Fresh finally breaks the silence with an awkward cough.

“Uh. Hey?” You attempt.

His face gives you the impression of a caged animal.

He just keeps staring.

Maybe more like a cat going to the vet, when you think more about it. His sunglasses are blank, and he looks genuinely upset. It’s hard to remind yourself that he isn’t really upset.

Finally, he breaks the silence with a weak “sup.” He’s not even capitalizing properly. It’s honestly kind of concerning.

“…um.” Your mind raced as you tried to figure out what to say. You were never really the best at comforting people, you just never knew what to say.

“You okay?” You try to start with a simple question.

BONUS UNRELATED IMAGE

#Like I was on and off working but still #Almost there we’re almost yhere #My wips #utmv #fresh parasite #error!sans

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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

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I wanna talk about You Boys Play Games Very Well because it is the funniest story I’ll ever read in my life.

First things first: Ling Meng. MengMeng. The best boy. He’s just like me fr his head is full of only video games and food. He also puffs out his cheeks like a pufferfish when upset and that’s just too relatable. Anyway, he’s also super tiny but calls himself Lemon Daddy, and I can’t explain to you how funny it is when he does a face reveal and everyone is so upset and thinks he’s underage-

And Shan Zhu! (His brother’s name is Shan Zha and I know it’s written in characters not English, but in English it’s equivalent to naming one kid Charles and the other Charlie, it cracks me up and the author definitly knew this, okay, they knew-) Shan Zha played one game when Lemon Daddy told him to take things more seriously and he went “…he’s got a point” and became one of the top players. Because someone on a game told him to take things more seriously.

I have a lot to say on Shan Zhu, okay, he is the funniest love interest of all times. First of all, his nicknames include Mango, Mang God (God Mango), Mangosteen, and Apple. He’s called Mango because his name Mangosteen got mispronounced. He started a small account, Apple, because Ling Meng thought Mang God was going to the same school as him and started a tournament to see, and Shan Zhu joined because he wanted the second place prize.

WHAT - you ask - WAS THE SECOND PLACE PRIZE? I’m so glad you brought it up! Ling Meng told everyone it was his nudes, but it was actually a picture of him in the bath from when he was a baby, but yes, Shan Zhu joined a tournament under a newly made account name just so he could deliberately throw the match at the last second and win Ling Meng’s naked photo (which is especially funny because he’s called a walking calculator; he does wildly impressive math all in his head in a couple of seconds and so he deliberately did the math to make his missiles miss, his talent level is off the charts). WHY - you ask - did he do ANY OF THIS? Because he got told by Lemon Daddy to take thing more seriously, then the second time they met, Lemon told him “You boys play games very well” and honestly, who wouldn’t be smitten?

(Also, they made a bet and he did manage to get Ling Meng to try and buy condoms at the school store, so- Look, just read the novel, it makes sense, definitely, just read it-)

But Shan Zha (the most obvious man who has ever existed) and Ling Meng (the most oblivious man who has ever existed) are not the best characters, that honour goes to Xiang Jiao, or Banana, or Guava. Guava is the absolute best character of all time, because he has the biggest crush on Ling Meng yet does absolutely nothing about it. The multiple scenes where he just asks Mango and Apple (which are the same person) if he wants to go pro are very funny, because Shan Zha responds with a no every time, but Guava keeps asking.

Guava has a shit ton of money and uses it almost exclusively to send it to Ling Meng. My favourite part is when someone asks him his hobbies and his coach mentions that he’s been watching a streamer lately (Ling Meng) and Guava says it’s an entertainment streamer (he isn’t really) and says he watches because it’s funny and the coach says “He’s never laughed once.”

Also, Guava asking Ling Meng for his autograph is just hilarious.

Also also, the sex scenes are entirely fruit and rollercoaster metaphors. I don’t know why. But I like it a lot.

So yeah, 10/10, recommend, read You Boys Play Games Very Well, it’s all worth it for Guava being the biggest Lemon fan, and Shan Zhu being the biggest Ling Meng trumpet blower and defender. (Ling Meng is good at everything. Promise, he definitely is, would the extremely biased and smitten Shan Zhu lie to me??) And the chat is pretty funny too. Very good, very funny, so funny, like honestly I laugh so hard every time I read it.

#cnovel #you boys play games very well #ling meng #shan zhu #xiang jiao #the inane ramblings of a madman #long post #novel #listen i realize i didn’t bring it up #but this entire story is interspersed #with incredibly detailed sections #of gaming footage #the crux of the story is the gaming #i probably should have mentioned that #but oh well #better late than never #please read so i can talk to someone about please

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therealleafknight · 1 year

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Cornupaucitas

Holidays are difficult. No matter how much I try to enjoy them, I can’t truly. I’ve always just watched every family celebrate or heard how it went for them back in school. They’d tell me a lot of people came over and had fun, how they ate so much food there with everyone. But for me it was always “Alright, I guess”.

I’d always notice that for everyone else, their holidays were never like mine. We’d always start out making both of us decide: will I be with my mother or my father this time?

With the former, the celebration would be quite drab. We would do very little if anything at all. Maybe we’d go to church and there’d be some food there, but I barely could eat any as the adults would take everything that was there and I never could get the things that I wanted. Or maybe we’d just stay in the house. We’d make a few things, my sister’d come over and we’d eat. Or maybe it was at a restaurant instead, if we were lucky. Either way, if my mother and sister had both gotten involved it’d turn out quite dicey. Maybe it was in the car or maybe it’d just be in the house. They would bicker and argue and yell and shout. It’d always feel embarrassing to me if we were in public. I remember at one point yelling “Sometimes I forget who’s really the child here since the two of you always bicker like kids”. Just felt embarrassing to be related to them in those moments. But then you grow up and later understand all the yelling and arguing, and you grow up and later understand that for many this isn’t how it goes. So then when people ask you “How was your holiday?”, you always just say “It was alright, I guess”.

With the latter, I would simply feel alone. I’d go to my uncle’s or maybe my aunt’s and they would just laugh and chat, reminisce and talk. I’d be stuck looking after my cousins and begging that they wouldn’t break anything cuz then I’d get in trouble. I’d stay up until 2 am, occasionally getting a moment to eat and trying my best to make a short game of monopoly last as long as humanly possible because maybe if I did they wouldn’t break anything this time. My uncles would be drinking the night away as they spoke to my dad, so many bottles of Red Stripe and Corona and everything else. I think that’s part of why I don’t like being in rooms where everyone is drinking, now that I think of it. It just reminds me of those holidays spent sitting around and feeling all alone. Unable to relate to the younger children around you. Unable to chat to the adults who were much, much older than you and impaired by their drink. So you sit there, quietly and grumble to yourself until 2 in the morning, a room filled with people and yet at the same time quite empty. No one there ever speaks to you, and even if they try to you know they don’t take you seriously and they’re not really listening. Not like they can anyway, even if they did want to. I look back at it and find it interesting, really. The idea that one can be in a room chock-full of people galore and yet feel like no one is really in there with them.

So when that time comes around again, I start feeling lonely cuz I know what is coming. I once again will make a choice. But this time, I get three choices on the day of. I can hide every aspect of what makes me who I am and attend a holiday with my father’s side once more. I can try to do something with my sister maybe and see what can occur. Or I can spend it how I usually do—alone in my room staring at my computer and phone and just waiting. Waiting outside the metaphorical window of houses celebrating, hoping to smell the food, to hear the laughter, to feel the joy. Because maybe, just maybe there will come a day when there is a major holiday that actually makes me feel like I belong.

If you’re reading this, future me, I hope that that day comes. And when it does, I want you to come back to the past and give me a hug. Cuz I know you know how much we both need one here in the past.

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hamliet · 2 years

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Love (is) blood screaming inside you to work its will

(The title is from Buffy the Vampire Slayer but that’s not what this review is about. Mostly not, anyways).

*clears throat, dons fandom oldie glasses* BACK IN MY DAY WHEN YA WAS GOOD--

No but seriously, in light of the upcoming Vampire Academy TV series, I took the plunge and reread these classic young adult vampire romance novels--both the Vampire Academy and Bloodlines series. I’d read them the first time like... eight years ago? Seven? I don’t even know. It’s been a while.

And, in doing so, I was reminded why I love young adult literature in the first place. But that’s for the end of this review. For now, let’s get on with it, starting with the Vampire Academy series.

Vampire Academy

I think VA gets a bad rap for being derivative of Twilight (vampires and romance) and Harry Potter (a boarding school setting). But it’s really got a lot more in common with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in that it is firmly young adult, uses magical worldbuilding as metaphors for the real-world struggles of teenagers, and actually has character arcs (sorry Twilight). In many ways it is more successful than BTVS in terms of its metaphors (it avoids a lot of the icky subtext of Buffy, particularly around sex), if in general less successful in its character arcs.

But? Vampire Academy is also incredibly fresh and unique in some ways.

To start with, in any other YA series, protagonist Rose Hathaway would be the sidekick, and Vasilisa Dragomir would be the protagonist. I mean, think about it: Lissa is the quintessential YA heroine. She’s the last survivor of a royal lineage, has a super secret and dangerous power that could destroy her or save the world, is destined to become queen, and her love interests (and a favorite character of mine, Christian Ozera) is a bad boy with a heart of gold.

Rose is even literally Lissa’s textual sidekick: as a dhampir, Rose tells us from the first chapter that her purpose is to stick by Lissa’s side and protect her life no matter what. Rose is bold, brash, doesn’t think, and has a very casual attitude towards physical romantic encounters. These are all typical traits of the YA Protagonist Sidekick.

But, Rose is the protagonist, not Lissa. It’s an interesting subversion, helped by the fact that both Rose and Lissa are characters with genuine flaws: Lissa is genuinely selfish at times, and Rose can be a jerk who uses people. Their love interests also have real flaws: Christian may have golden intentions, but he has a genuine cruel streak too (and a fascination with fire). Dmitri’s self-sacrificing nature winds up just hurting everyone around him, including Rose.

Which isn’t to say the story doesn’t have issues. It does, and in many ways you can tell Vampire Academy was the author’s first story. The climax in the first book is pretty much entirely told to us rather than shown, to the point where I’m surprised an editor okayed it. Frostbite introduces a bit of creepiness (the tunnel scene is genuinely chilling) and complexity, but doesn’t ever really let the setting and premise breathe because it’s too busy arranging characters to where they need to be for book 3. It’s really not until book 4 that the story really allows its characters to take a breather, and with their inhalation digs deep into the core of what makes Lissa, Christian, Rose, and even Dmitri who they are. Book 5 nails the emotional climax (Lissa and Christian restoring Dmitri’s soul), and Book 6 is an exciting finish. In other words, the story improves with each book, which is exactly what you want to see when reading.

That said, the story’s best strength was, as said before, its characters. They have flaws and strengths, are likable and unlikable each, and have their own unique dynamics with each other. The romance is very present for Rose/Dmitri and Lissa/Christian, but Rose and Lissa’s friendship manages to also pack a major emotional punch, as does Rose’s friendships with Christian, Sydney, Mason, Jill, and Adrian. The overall story’s biggest flaw is that it didn’t spend as much time calling the characters out for their flaws as it could have--it really could have gone deeper in a lot of ways, but as the author seems to settle into her groove, the story winds to a close. Adrian’s question to Rose at the end really cuts to the heart of her character flaws, but the story ends only a few chapters later; we know approximately where she’ll go from there, but it would have been nice to see it.

"Not just me, little dhampir,' he added quietly. "There's been a lot of collateral damage along the way while you battled against the world. I was a victim, obviously. But what about Jill? What happens to her now that you've abandoned her to the royal wolves? And Eddie? Have you thought about him? And where's your Alchemist?”

Speaking of the romance, Dmitri and Rose are essentially Buffy and Angel, but done well: shown, not told. Also, despite Dmitri also losing his soul right after sex with Rose for the first time, it is clearly not because of sex that he lost his soul: if anything, that helps him hold on in some ways. Hence the metaphor is much more on the sex positive side. That said, yes, it’s problematic that a 24 year old teacher is in love with a 17 year old (okay a week from 18) student. It makes me uncomfortable, and that’s actually usually a huge squick for me. Yet for some reason it works in this series, which is odd and a testament to how the author writers it.

On metaphors, I loved how at the start of the series, Rose’s automatic “they come first” (with “they” being Lissa for her) isn’t questioned, but is thoroughly unpacked later on. Her friendship with Lissa heals and kills both of them; Lissa can share some of her darkness and mental struggles with Rose, but the toll it takes on her is agonizing to read. When separated, the girls both struggle; they clearly need each other in their lives. Yet depending on each other so intensely is also detrimental to both of their growths. Their shadow-kissed bond is a metaphor for codependency, and it is very well done.

Speaking of mental health...

Bloodlines

Bloodlines is honestly where the author knocks it out of the park. Technically a sequel spin-off series, you might think it was trying to recapture the magic of the former, but it becomes both a perfect continuation and a gem in its own right.

Adrian and Sydney are constantly called on their flaws, with both being challenged to grow throughout the series. Empathy drips off the pages, but their flaws aren’t ever excused either.

Adrian is a great character, flawed, fun, and lovable at the same time. He’s also one of the best portrayals of addiction and mental illness I’ve ever read about. He is an alcoholic, but he is never defined by his alcoholism. When he falls off the wagon, you feel for him. When we’re finally allowed in his head in book 3 of Bloodlines, we feel his agony, and we too long for release for him.

It was pretty clear from back in VA that Adrian’s mental issues were metaphors for bipolar disorder (just like Lissa’s was depression), and Bloodlines isn’t afraid to confirm this by giving Adrian the actual diagnosis. Not only that, but Bloodlines goes further and gives Adrian actual psychosis in what is a fairly realistic portrayal according to what I’ve read/seen in real life, yet never, ever defines Adrian by his psychosis. His story is one of learning to live with mental illness, and it’s important. It’s important because it takes a very different approach to mental illness than do most modern books: it doesn’t tell the story from the perspective of “it’s all better now.” Even in the happily-ever-after epilogue, it’s still a part of Adrian. His mental illness is still part of him; not the totality, no, but it’s not not him either. And it does this without glamorizing it or diminishing the toll (I’m very sick of “mental illness isn’t actually something people suffer from; it’s just different”--for many, it is suffering). Basically, we need more stories with characters and struggles like Adrian Ivashkov.

Which brings me to a really neat metaphor in the book; at one point, when Sydney refuses to accept Adrian’s feelings for her, she sees Catcher in the Rye on Marcus’s desk. She then thinks to herself how it means Marcus must be “self-absorbed and pretentious.” Marcus then calls her out on this, telling her she is misunderstanding the entire story, and how it’s actually a beautiful book. The Catcher in the Rye is here a symbol for Adrian: rich young boy who pretends to be self-absorbed and pretentious, but is actually a trauma survivor with some serious mental health struggles and a lot of love in his heart. Like Holden, too, Adrian’s future is in protecting the children... but more on that later.

Sydney is a pretty great combination with Adrian: they’re an unlikely couple (opposites attract is a good trope) but beyond that, they actually are fairly similar. Sydney also has an addictive personality--her caffeine habit, eating issues, and her devout faith and morals which she never entirely loses are all dealt with in honest ways. The “reeducation” center they send her to is a very unsubtle metaphor for conversion therapy. Some of the tactics used by the evil Alchemists in the books (like the nausea association) are very real and very much used in conversion therapy for LGBT+ people. It is really effed up, and this story captures the trauma and evil of such a place.

Adrian and Sydney’s relationship is just hot. It’s passionate, but not melodramatic. It challenges both of them to grow each and every page that they’re together. It could destroy them, but because of their love for each other, they keep choosing to become better people--even when it means pain. It’s hopeful, fun, and everything YA romance should be. Also, the makeout and eventual sex scenes should be examples to all writers about how to write sex scenes that use emotion to perfectly convey the physical, without being gratuitous. They’re explicit about what’s happening without being graphic (or even being erotica; they’re not).

The “happily ever after” ending is largely earned. There are a million hints from the very first book that the story will end with Adrian and Sydney having a kid--there’s the baby name book, the Callistana recognizing them as its parents, and more. Where the story loses it a bit is in Book 6, which is a shame because while Book 6 was the strongest of VA’s books, it’s the weakest of Bloodlines’ books. Olive, Nina, and Neil were really just introduced to give them Declan, and to make it clear that Rose and Dmitri could have children some day, too.

To which I say: just do it. Seriously, you’re already going the fairy tale route (like Buffy, VA and Bloodlines are very much fairy tales). So don’t just hint. Do the fairy tale.

I almost do wonder if that was the initial plan: Sydney and Adrian having a biological kid (even though it’s implied they will, and Declan is very much their son). It fits a little too perfectly with Sydney’s body image issues and her eating issues (particularly around craving foods and denying herself them). There’s also a moment in reeducation where she fears she’s carrying Adrian’s child, but then isn’t, and I honestly wonder if the author flirted with such an idea before scrapping it because a 19-year-old wife and mother might be a bit too much. But the angst and character development potential would have made for a much more satisfying Book 6, honestly.

But again, I say, wrap up this fairy tale without any apologies. That is my taste, anyways. We have so many beautiful couples, the main ones being Rose and Dmitri, Lissa and Christian, and Sydney and Adrian, but then we have Jill and Eddie, Angeline and Trey, Jackie Terwilliger and Malachi Wolfe, Sonya and Mikhail, Marcus and Carly... it’s an explosion of love, and we even then find out Dmitri and Adrian are cousins (and it works). Just go the whole way.

Lastly, on the family situations: both series’ show the nuance of broken families. Lissa’s family was whole and happy, but her father still cheated on her mother. Janine Hathaway and Abe Mazur are terrible parents to Rose, but by the end they start redeeming themselves, working to form a good relationship with their daughter--it will never be a typical parent/child relationship because that ship has sailed, but they can make something of their relationships anyways. Daniella Ivashkov and Adrian also fall into this, working together to find a way forward after trauma.

On the other hand, Sydney and her father, Jared Sage, and Adrian and his father, Nathan Ivashkov, will not reconcile. It seems unequivocally clear that this is not possible, and the story supports this narrative just as it supports the more reconciliatory narratives. This is a nuance stories struggle to hit, and it does it very well.

Along these lines, I would liked some more closure on Dmitri’s family--I’d have liked an update on Viktoria, for example, and I’d have liked an update on Sydney’s mother. Where we left Zoe is very realistic--she loves Sydney and is maturing, but can’t break free from the cult of the alchemists just yet. As someone who left a cult-like religious environment, Zoe’s narrative really resonated with me.

Final Thoughts

Where I bring it back to YA.

The whole reason I loved YA, and the reason I write it in my own time, is that it used to be the best combination of plot, themes, character development, and romance--but best of all?

It asked the questions.

Nowadays it's all become the genre that has all the answers, and to its detriment. It’s hard to imagine VA not getting Twitter cancelled nowadays. I can’t even defend parts of it as not problematic. And yet it is honest and has an aim as a story that feels real, raw, in a way that contemporary YA of the past few years does not.

Honestly, and again speaking as someone who grew up in a fundamentalist Christian place, most modern YA is just Christian/inspirational fiction, but with with performative wokeness as finding Jesus. I say this as someone who is still religious and very much pro-social justice person. But it’s more concerned with purity than the messy reality of struggling to navigate a complex world. “Empathy” is lauded, but the word is meaningless, because it's not really empathy. What contemporary YA calls empathy is really a method of seeking power, and comforting readers with instructions on how to be a good person rather than discomforting and challenging. I'm all for tearing down the social structures that have oppressed for millennia. Burn it all. But, without empathy/love... is it even going to change anything?

I'd like to see this question explored, and reading is such a powerful tool to exercise empathy, too. Especially in stories aimed at teenagers, because teenagers are able to understand complexity but are not yet burdened by the same depths of cynicism that adulthood can bring with it.

Rereading Vampire Academy and Bloodlines reminded me of the reasons I love YA. I’m very excited for it to get an adaptation and reenter the public consciousness.

#vampire academy #bloodlines #sydrian #rose hathaway #lissa dragomir #christian ozera #vasilisa dragomir #rosemarie hathaway #sydney sage #adrian ivashkov #richelle mead #hamliet reviews #dmitri belikov

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Note

After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head

Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.

Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).

Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.

Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.

Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.

Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.

Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.

Clarity...

The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.

Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.

A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.

After a moment of consideration, she typed out:

Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?

That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.

Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...

Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.

She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.

She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.

Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.

Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.

Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.

This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.

But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.

Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.

She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.

Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.

If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.

The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.

Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?

She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.

Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.

Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.

How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?

Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.

Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.

Nothing much.

She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.

She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.

Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.

I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.

Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.

It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.

Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.

My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.

What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?

Would it go away?

Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.

I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.

You do?

Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?

He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.

Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.

Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.

She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.

I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.

He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.

But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.

Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.

As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.

I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.

Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.

Thanks.

She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.

She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.

Sorry.

Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.

But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."

She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.

She was ready.

...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.

Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.

—————

Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.

She also set it on vibrate just in case.

There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.

Marinette!

Is everything okay?

Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?

Marinette?

The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:

Sorry. I had to run from my parents.

I'm okay. What about you?

You're alright. I'm so glad.

I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.

That's good. Be careful.

You too.

She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.

Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:

I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.

Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.

She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."

And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.

Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.

Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.

Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #category: salt #episode: Hack San #other: ask and answer #((tbh depending on how much Marinette explains it to him))#((poor boi's gonna have one hell of a revelation in ''Wishmaker''))#((suddenly the Adrien crush influence she explained is gonna make sense))#((and he feels bad for ever supporting it even if he had no way of knowing.))

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the-storming-sea · 3 years

Note

For prompts: Todoroki using every single Toshi-Izuku interaction to add to his "Izuku is All Might's secret love child' conspiracy board

Tfw its been like two to three days but Many Things have happened in that time. Oops

Uh, anyways–

"Dude. What. The. Fuck."

Sero, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu stared, wide-eyed and nearly slack-jawed from the futon they currently sat at. Across from them, hanging off the wall was a large pinboard, polaroid pictures and newspapers articles with certain words and pictures circled in with bright red marker tacked onto different places, red string connecting each and every single one of those pictures together.

And in front of that pinboard stood Todoroki Shouto, one of the most powerful students at UA, son of the current Number One Hero, wide-eyed and wild-haired and probably, by definition, out of his fucking mind.

"Listen. I'm not crazy–"

"Literally everything that's happening now is providing evidence to the contrary."

"–but All Might is Midoriya's father."

"That's." Kirishima blinked, once, his brain attempting to process what his classmate was saying. "What?"

"All Might. Is. Midoriya's. Father," Todoroki said, slower, like he was trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. Or to anyone.

"Todoroki, All Might's never been in a public relationship before," Yaoyorozu replied, slower. Of all of Todoroki's eccentricities, this had to be the weirdest one yet. "Not to mention, all of All Might's speculated relationships have been with men."

"Then at least one of his partners is trans, or he's trans!"

"They don't even look the same!"

"Then Midoriya gets his looks from his mother! They have the same quirk! They practically act the same!" Todoroki threw his hands up in exasperation, frost creeping on the side of his fingers. "I'm still right!"

"Bro, you've met Midoriya's mother."

"Artificial insemination! Adoption! Again, secret love child!"

Todoroki slapped his hand on the board, slightly burning the edges of one of the newspaper clippings. "Look, see here," he said, pointing to the clipping. Kirishima tentatively walked up, squinting at the headline. "Read this."

"'Mystery Samaritans Found Cleaning Up Takoba Beach.'" Kirishima frowned. "So?"

Sero's eyes brightened. "Oh, I remember that! I used to go to the beach all the time with my family," he said. "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"Look at this photo!"

Kirishima turned his eyes towards the photo, frowning. His eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit, is that Midoriya?"

"Huh, so it is," Yaoyorozu said. "And...is that...?"

"YES!" Todoroki exclaimed, once again slapping his hand on the pinboard and startling his friends. "All Might, as he currently looks now, and Midoriya found at Takoba beach a full year before the school year starts. That means they knew each other before the school year started!"

"You repeated yourself."

"I know I know I know but why," Todoroki pressed, taking a deep breath, "why would All Might, in his weakened state before Kamino, be seen with Midoriya unless...unless that was his secret son."

He clapped his hands together just as he was finishing his point, clearly pleased by his argument. The three stared back at him, slightly alarmed.

"Or...maybe he just met him recently and they decided to clean the beach together," Yaoyorozu said tentatively. "It could happen."

"Or, or they decided to train for Midoriya's UA Exam together by lifting appliances at the beach! Or working out around the beach a year before!" he protested. "My father used to make me train by lifting up heavy objects ten times my size and pushing my quirk before the UA exam too!"

Sero frowned. "Todo, I know good parenting is a foreign concept to you, but comparing your relationship with your dad to Midoriya and All Might maybe isn't the best of ideas."

"I'm pretty sure Iida used to train with his hero brother in a very normal way," Todoroki nearly fucking pouted. The guy was really fired up– metaphorically and a little bit literally, judging by his floor. "But, but anyway, what I'm trying to say was that All Might, trying to make sure Midoriya would be strong enough for the entrance exam, made him clean up the beach because he was helping to train his son!"

Kirishima stared at him. "Bro."

"I'm right! Not to mention, why would he be in his thinner state around Midoriya if he wasn't his son?!"

"Maybe he told him about the weakened form back then by accident?" Sero said. "Todoroki, seriously. You're looking too deep into this."

"I agree," Yaoyorozu said. She loved her friend, truly, but as good as it was for Todoroki to exhibit any other emotion besides confusion and rage, this couldn't be healthy for him.

Todoroki groaned. "Okay, okay, fine. Exhibit B!" He pointed to a picture of All Might and Midoriya walking into All Might's office. "They eat lunch together! Who does that with a teacher?!"

Kirishima hummed. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he said, looking back at the others. "You gotta admit, that is a little suspicious."

"You forget, Midoriya broke his bones a lot at the beginning of the year just by activating his quirk," Yaoyorozu said, calmly. "As the Heroics teacher, All Might would want to make sure they can find a way for Midoriya to improve his quirk use without breaking his bones, so it would make sense for All Might to meet up with Midoriya out of class."

"But why continuously?!" Todoroki pressed. "Even after Midoriya got a handle of his quirk?!"

Yaoyorozu frowned. "Well, Bakugo meets with them now. Is Bakugo All Might's son too?"

"Details, details," Todoroki said with a wave of his hand. "Bakugo's practically Midoirya's boyfriend anyways. All Might probably wants to vet him or something."

"Somehow I believe that less than your 'All Might is Midoriya's dad' theory."

"They're going to get together, just you wait," Todoroki said. "Anyways, back to business. It's not just at school too! Even now that we're in the dorms, lately All Might will eat with Midoriya, alone, just the two of them!"

He pointed to another picture of Midoriya and All Might eating meat buns on a bench, no one else in sight, lightly chatting. "See! It would make sense if All Might ate with any one of us, or if there was a bigger crowd, but it's just those two! That's a normal parenting thing, right?"

"Dude how did you even get that picture."

"Irrelevant."

Yaoyorozu ran her eyes over the full board again, wincing internally. As...off-putting as her friend's efforts were, he did have a point. All Might's actions towards Midoriya were unprecedented of a teacher, Aizawa would certainly never be caught dead with any of them. And sure, they simply could be good friends who met a little before the Takoba news article picture, friends could be of all ages after all, but with the way All Might treated Midoriya daily, it was getting more and more likely that Todoroki's theory was correct. Which had some very interesting implications and also a media shitstorm on its way if it was true.

"And," Todoroki continued, now rambling as fast as Midoriya was, "did you know that All Might visited the Midoriya's to talk about the dorm system alone?"

Kirishima's mouth dropped. "Seriously?"

Todoroki nodded, eyes wide and a small smile on his face. "Aizawa-sensei told us himself back when he asked my father if I could stay in the dorms! My father asked where All Might was and Aizawa-sensei told him that they split up right before the Midoriya's!"

Sero's eyes widened. "Okay, I will admit that that's weird."

"I know right?!" Todoroki exclaimed, out of breath and restlessly pacing the floor. "Not only that, but All Might was one of the first people Midoriya texted right after he got his hero license. And Midoriya ended up interning with a hero who All Might knows directly and worked with Nighteye during his work-study who's All Might's only sidekick! And then Midoriya was invited personally to I-Island by All Might! And–"

Knock knock.

The group froze.

"Young Todoroki? Can I speak with you?"

Fuck.

Todoroki tentatively walked over to his door, opening it just enough to find All Might standing behind it, a worried expression on his face. "Are you all alright? The kids downstairs reported a lot of yelling, and I think you may have frozen and burnt through your floor?"

Todoroki looked back at his floor, which now looked slightly more like the training room back home than it did his dorm room. "Right. I can pay for that."

"No need my boy, just make sure it doesn't happen again or I think Aizawa'll have all of our heads," All Might chuckled. He then frowned, slightly opening the door more. "What on Earth is that?"

His eyes were pointed directly behind Todoroki, to the pinboard the high schooler had been deliriously gesturing towards for the past few minutes. Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu stared at each other awkwardly, shuffling their feet.

"Um...well, y'see–"

"All Might, is Midoriya your illegitimate child?"

The air paused. Everyone turned their eyes to the teen.

All Might blinked. "I'm sorry...what?"

WHAT THE FUCK, TODOROKI?!

"Todoroki, bro, you can't just ask shit like that!" Kirishima exclaimed, who now, like the many people around him, was going through all the stages of grief. "That's not one of those things you can just ask people!"

Todoroki tilted his head. "I asked Midoriya."

"YOU ASKED MIDORIYA?!"

"I–"

The kids now directed their attention back to All Might, who had managed to shake himself out of his stupor and somehow made his way to the pinboard. "I'm not...young Todoroki, believe me when I say I'm 100% sure I'm not Midoriya's biological father," he said, rapidly glancing back and forth from the board to Todoroki. "As...creepily impressive as this is," he continued, gesturing to the entirety of the board, "I've never had a child, and besides, young Midoriya's biological father works overseas, in America."

He pointed to the slightly burnt newspaper clipping of Takoba beach, looking back at Todoroki. "Is this about the Takoba beach cleaning?"

Todoroki nodded.

"Huh." All Might turned to the clipping, a strange, soft, thoughtful look on his face. "I didn't know they did a report about it." He turned back to Todoroki. "May I keep this?"

Todoroki nodded again, even slower, and a delighted smile appeared on All Might's face. The four students watched with wide eyes as he took the newspaper clipping in one hand and the pin in between his other fingers, gently lifting the pin from where it had been embedded in the pin board, lifting the newspaper clipping from its place, and placing the pin back where he had found it. Seconds passed. All Might rubbing his thumb over the picture in the newspaper with a soft chuckle. He then gently folded it, each crease careful not to tear the newspaper apart, before placing it in the pocket of his tracksuit.

Then, as if he remembered that there were other people in the room, he turned to Todoroki. "Ah, Aizawa-kun said that you had redecorated your room yourself, yes?"

Todoroki nodded, still stunned. "Perfect! The bots will be up here in a few minutes or so to repair your floor, and then refurbish your room any way you see fit." All Might clapped his hands together, a bright smile on his face. "Just try not to do it as much, alright? And please stop stalking young Midoriya and I. I don't know how many times I can catch you in the act before telling him that one of his best friend's have been stalking us to obtain proof of our non-existant biological relationship."

"You saw me?"

"Young Todoroki, I've been the number one hero for three and a half decades."

"Oh." Todoroki frowned. "Sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again, please." All Might took a heavy sigh before finally addressing the others in the room. "Young Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Sero, I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. Plus Ultra!"

"See you!"

"See you tomorrow All Might!"

All Might left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Todoroki, Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu in the room, waiting for the repair bots to arrive, silent and bewildered with what had just transpired in the past ten minutes. The four of them couldn't move, only the sound of breathing being proof that any of them were even alive. After what felt like several, long, painstaking seconds, Todoroki turned to his friends.

"Y'know, All Might worked in America for a while."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, TODOROKI."

#thestormingsea posts #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #dad might #mentioned midoriya izuku #mentioned izuku midoriya #mentioned deku #he doesn't take a part in this story but just in case ig #and then kirishima sero and yaoyorozu are here but they don't do much

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

#bnha 308 #midoriya izuku #muscular (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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achillieus · 3 years

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we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, mentions of depression, angst, bucky is a cocky bitch, but bucky also needs a hug

(other parts) (masterlist)

part 1/3:

It’s December, his sophomore year of college and Bucky’s watching you again. From afar, always from afar. He’s scared if he goes near, something will give him away and you’ll laugh at him. He doesn’t remember when his fixation started but he’s certain it’ll pass. A load of girls on campus like him. Sometimes he thinks he likes some of them back. But not you. Bucky doesn’t like you. He’s beyond you. (Actually, you’re beyond him. He would never admit that.) He watches you and notices how your fringe has grown the last few weeks and how a few strands are falling down your eyes. You brush them away and keep writing your essay. He decides it’d be better if he started writing his too. You’re a year younger but he knows you’ll probably get a higher score than him anyway. You’re good with words, he has noticed.

It’s March, your freshman year and you breathe out. You’re leaving the library, arms wrapped around books about Hamlet and Shakespeare, when you see him. Lately he seems to be everywhere you are. It’s getting annoying. You promise yourself you won’t stare at him again, but you cheat a few times. He’s wearing one of his overpriced shirts and he smiles at a sophomore girl. You know Bucky Barnes. You’d known him even if you didn’t want to. Because everybody does. Because that’s who he is. Everything you dislike about the world distilled into one label-whoring, conceited, 5′11″ tall boy. And everybody seems to be smitten with him.

He comes to you first.

“It’s destiny, Y/N,” he says, a smug look on his face, “third time I bump into you today.”

You tense. This is new. Usually, you don’t talk to each other if not for arguing in Romance Literature class. It’s one of the two classes you share.

“I must be very lucky.” Bucky chuckles and it’s somewhat engaging because he hasn’t given you a smile since the first day you met him.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”.

You had thought he was nice then. And beautiful. God, he was so beautiful. Please, he’s not. He’s an arrogant smartass. And now he’s standing here and for some seconds he laughs and you can see the dimples in his cheeks. You blink.

His light eyes divert to the books you’re holding.

“Try not to have too much fun.”

He mocks and walks away.

It’s July, end of sophomore year and Bucky joins a summer book club. (He doesn’t tell anyone. He enjoys his facade.) Every morning he grabs an iced latte and a butter croissant and he goes to the meetings. He reads a lot. And he loves it. It helps him feel. It’s a getaway. Bucky always stands proud and tall, trying to hide how easily he can be torn.

Running one finger along the starched collar of his shirt, he reads quietly and he considers the ever-changing art of literature; words and metaphors that allow him to imagine entire worlds and fathom his own sensitivities. He almost feels vulnerable. He decides that reading together with another person is an intimate act and he’s thankful he doesn’t really have any interest in anyone in the club.

But then it’s Monday and his teenage dream walks in, hair falling gracefully your shoulders, Gone with The Wind in your left hand. And it could have been the sun gleaming through the windows, but Bucky swears his whole being flickers. In a way or another he always responds to your presence.

You sit two rows behind of him and when he involuntary turns to you, you look surprised and yet you smile.

He tries to avoid you and he’s good at it, until someone decides it’d be fun to present the next book in groups. You’re the only two without a friend there and you end up paired together.

“I don’t like this.” he says.

“Oh, I know.” you whisper.

You spend an evening in his dorm, discussing the author and the plot holes. At first, he talks a lot, trying to impress you. But then he lays on his back, listening to the summer rain outside and you reading out loud. Regardless of what you feel for each other, he thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

Next morning, he buys two butter croissants instead of one.

It’s October, your sophomore year and you’re not exactly friends. Or enemies. Bucky has stopped teasing you and you think it’s because of your days in the book club. Actually, it’s because he’s dating Natasha Romanoff now and he promised he’d be kinder.

You realize sooner or later and you say it’s obvious you don’t care. (Who is it obvious to?) The girl is pretty, clever and vibrant and she’s a good person. You like her. You just can’t figure out what she sees in Bucky.

It’s January, his junior year and he’s not doing well. He knows it’s his fault (he always loved half-heartedly) and that makes the hurting worse. It’s guilt driven. He tries to get Nat back but she’s not ready. And it’s awful because nobody warned him and he didn’t know; it’s hard to feel lovable after a break up. He desperately needs a distraction. He pushes himself past his breaking point. Carves his grades into the back of his neck. Devours facts and theorems. Almost joins the football team for extra credit. But to be honest he’s never been that much into sports. Debate team, it is.

That’s where he truly learns to despise you. Who do you think you are? The proud jaw, those smart eyes, your feet planted on the ground as if the world’s wisdom belongs to you. You’re at your best while he’s at his lowest point.

He watches you and then he watches himself.

“Your last argument was weak,” you say, raising your eyebrows, “you should concentrate more.”

Bucky bites his lip in frustration.

“You’re not the boss around here.” He says, crossing his arms in his chest, “You may think you are, but you’re not.”

(Technically she is, Bucky. She’s the captain of the team.)

“Don’t start again.” You sigh. “I just want us to win next week.”

He rolls his eyes at you. He would never admit it out loud but a part of him is enjoying this. Feuding with Y/N feels natural. It reminds him of who he is. And he feeds on that.

He takes a step towards you.

“Of course, so you can take all the credit.”

You just stare at him. Sometimes you don’t understand what Bucky is trying to prove. That he’s better? Or that you’re worse? You hate it. How quickly he can make you lose your temper.

(How quickly he can exhilarate you.)

“If you don’t like the team,” you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze, “you’re free to leave.”

Bucky laughs. This is how you are. This is how you will always be. Both strong, you just, him lost.

“You need me to win, Y/N,” he sets his shoulders back and smirks, “I’m good at this.” He remains close to you and refuses to look away. He can see you parting your lips for a second or two.

(Did he just glance at your lips?)

“I know you are,” you breath out and Bucky is incredulous, “so start acting like it.”

(Did you just compliment him?)

It’s the first day of February, your sophomore year and you think you’re losing your sanity. Bucky invites everyone at his dorm to celebrate their victory at the National Debate Championship. And it’s strange because Bucky never really invites anyone he doesn’t like. If you didn’t know him, you would have bet that he’s been feeling lonely.

You don’t want to go at first. But you’re glad you do. Under the green lights he has installed and all the alcohol in his body, he looks different and it’s the first time you genuinely see him. A boy with silky black hair, blue eyes and skin that looks like it’d be cool to touch. There’s something attractive about him, in a rugged way, and you’re seeing it again after a long time.

Your allergies must have gotten in your head.

He doesn’t talk a lot that night. Not to you. Not to anyone. You deduce pretty early that Bucky just wanted company to drink. You wonder if he’s still messed up because of the break up.

Probably. Everyone on campus is talking about how Natasha was hanging out with that boy, Clint.

He tells you, you don’t have to, but you still stay to help him clean up.

“Why are you doing this, Y/N?” His voice is low.

You started taking a new antihistamine, maybe it’s the side effects.

“It’s called being nice,” you say firmly, “you should try it.”

Bucky makes a little humming sound and keeps collecting plastic cups. The room is quiet, but for the sound of trash bags and you count the seconds before you speak again.

“How are you?”

“I’m not that drunk, don’t worry.” He half-answers, half laughs but he pronounces the last word with enough irony.

“No, I meant,” you breath, “Is everything okay with you?”

“Seriously, you make no sense Y/N.” He’s careful not to look at you.

“I just wanted to say,” your voice sways for a second, you’re a novice in talking with him about anything different than books and words and that makes you weak and nervous, “You’ll be back with Natasha, I’m sure.”

Bucky’s face hardens around the edges, his eyes saying more about him than any words could. He comes close to you and it could have been the smell of alcohol but you feel like you want to throw up.

“You and I, we’re not friends.”

You don’t blink. You stare blankly at him, waiting for what follows. But he just leaves the room.

You promise you will never go to any of his parties again.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #college au #au!bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #hassandra #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #alternate universe #alternate universe bucky #natasha romanoff #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #fools

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #48

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Eli C. (The Break Up)

“You look like shit.”

It’s Friday morning. Eli slides into a chair at his usual table at the coffee shop. His best friend Becca is already there, sipping on her nonfat mocha with extra whipped cream, grinning like an amused fool. He’s glad someone can be so cheery this early in the morning.

“Lay off, I had a long night.” Eli savors the taste of his own black coffee - hoping it’ll kick in so he can at least pay half attention in class.

“Did you now?” Becca’s eyebrow is raised high with interest.

Eli lets out a groan, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Becca leans forward. “No, I think I do. What trashy thing did you do now?”

Eli takes another drink of his coffee, settling in. Fine. It’s not like Becca ever lets these things go. “You know how I’ve been on those show choir message boards for the past year or so?”

“Oh, god, this again?” She’s more delighted than appalled.

“I’m allowed to have my hobbies.”

“Yeah, your totally gay hobbies.”

“Says the woman who has her hand in pussy any chance she can get.”

“Anyway…” Becca pushes on. “Your totally normal obsession with show choirs, continue…”

“About week ago, I get to chatting with this guy named Blaine.”

“Really? His name is Blaine?” Becca lets out a hardy laugh. “Of course this story is going to get gayer.”

“Hey, you wanted to hear it.” Eli pushes back.

“Okay, okay, continue.”

“So we get to chatting, and I’m flirty and he’s flirty back, or at least that’s how I took it. So a couple days ago I looked him up on Facebook. Turns out the guy is totally hot - in that classic movie star kind of way.” Eli thinks about it - how it was really pretty harmless at the beginning. Maybe he misread the situation? Maybe he didn’t. Does he regret it? No, not really.

Becca grins her annoyingly devilish grin. “Did you go weak in the knees?”

“You know what, I did - so shut it,” Eli continues. “So, I asked if he wanted to hook up sometime.”

Becca feigns being impressed. “Wow - and he agreed without even seeing you? I mean - it’s not like your profile picture is telling a whole lot.”

“It’s a metaphor, Becca.”

“It’s overcompensation, Eli.”

“Anyway, yes he came over and we hooked up. And that’s that.” Eli doesn’t think there’s much more to tell - but Becca doesn’t seem satisfied.

“That cannot be the full story.”

“Do you really want the sordid details of my sex life?”

“Hey, you got to hear the comedy and tragedy that was Veronica Stalls, so yeah, I do.”

“Okay it was…” Eli lets out a long breath. The image of Blaine remains seared in his head - the moment he first saw him in person, showing up at his dorm room with a sad kind of beauty about him. He had been captivating - but Eli had always been one for lost causes. “The whole thing ended up being very odd. We agreed to meet at my place at seven, right? Well, he doesn’t show up. And I didn’t think much of it - cause I mean, hooking up with internet people can sometimes be sketchy. But then about quarter after ten, he knocks on my door. So, I let him in, and there’s very little talking. Like, the dude was all over me almost the second he walks in the door.”

“Um, hot.”

“More like very aggressive,” Eli corrects. Had it been hot? Yes, surely. Did something feel utterly wrong? Absolutely. Did he want to give up sex that night? Not even a little bit. “Not that it wasn’t a turn on. I just wasn’t expecting it. Online the guy is so polite and almost demure. I figured I’d have to be the one to push him a little. But nope, we were on the bed making out and grinding in, like, ten minutes.”

“Hey, no-strings-attached sex sounds kinda nice.”

In theory, it had been very nice. “Yeah, still…” Eli tilts his head back and forth as he thinks back on it. “It was like… it was like he wasn’t really there?” He remembers Blaine’s vacancy very clearly. It had been just a hook-up. No reason for Eli to take that personally, but some kind of connection would have been nice. Maybe even acknowledgement of what they were doing. Blaine, however, gave him nothing. “He gave me a handjob, and it was ‘meh’ to be honest with you. No finesse at all. Jerked me off as fast as he could. Then I asked if I could go down on him and, oh boy, that froze him up.”

Becca’s eyes grow wide. She sees people. It’s why they’re friends. “Um, so this already sounds like there’s some issues going on here.”

“Oh, clearly,” Eli nods. “But I mean, we weren’t hooking up to deconstruct whatever messed up feelings he was having. I was pretty clear from the outset that it was just a hookup. At least, I thought I was. Anyway, he finally let me go down on him and…”

“...and?” Becca’s unusually hanging onto his words.

“The dude’s dick was fucking gorgeous.” Eli licks his lips thinking about it again. If there had been one bright spot about last night - it was that dick. “I almost got hard again just looking at it.”

“Oh, I hear ya,” Becca says in a bout of sincerity. “Veronica Stalls’s tits, man. At least I get to keep the image of those in my brain for the rest of my life.”

“Right? Man…” Eli looks around. There are barely any customers there - they’re pretty alone. Still, he feels a little strange being so graphic in public. But Becca’s eyes are hard on him, so he continues. “So, yeah, I start to blow him, but he doesn’t really get into it, you know? Like most guys will pull my hair, or fuck my mouth, or whatever, but he just lay there letting me do it to him. And, I mean, seriously, I have no regrets sucking on a dick that delicious, but it did bum me out that he wasn’t, at least, a little into it. Took him fucking forever to come, too.”

“Yeah, he totally sounds suspect,” Becca agrees. “You were safe, right?”

“Oh, totally,” Eli nods. “So afterwards, we kind of make out a little, or more so, I kiss him a little, but he’s just, like, looking as if he’s going to throw up. So I got up to get some water, and by the time I get back, he’s pretty much dressed and out the door.”

“Oh my god,” Becca says, as if it is all clicking for her. “You were, like, the other guy, Eli. This dude totally has a boyfriend or something.”

“Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind,” Eli admits. To be honest, it had been fully on his mind but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Was he selfish for that? Was he selfish for just wanting to get off? “He blocked me this morning, so… I guess that was that. I feel a little bad though. Not that he blocked me - I guess I expected that. Just that I took part in whatever bad turn this guy was taking.”

“Don’t,” Becca shakes her head emphatically. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And honestly - sounds like you’re better off not being a part of whatever mess this dude’s life is.”

“True,” Eli gives a shrug. “He was a nice guy, though. I hope he figures his shit out.” He gives one last lingering thought to Blaine, hoping wherever he is today that he isn’t full of regret. Eli isn’t. Ah well. Moving on. “Meanwhile… I have a couple of hits from Grindr I should tell you about.”

“Oh, dear god…”

#99 perspectives #s.o. writes things #i'm sure this will be everyone's favorite :P

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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La squadra with a teammate who's secretly in a girl group or an idol? 😳

La Squadra with a Singer Teammate

La Squadra x Reader (fem), Platonic, SFW

Formaggio- Bless the poor man but he isn't exactly the most observant of the group, and even if he is familiar with your stage name he will look you plainly in the eye and not have the slightest suspicion who you really are. When the news drops however, he'll be one of the first to shrug it off, since he's known you long enough to form an unwavering opinion of you, and it's a good one. At least you've given him a few more singing-related pet names to tease you about.

Illuso- I can guarantee you 90% that he'll be the one to reveal your side-job to the team. Secretly, Illuso is a fan of many girl-groups (his favorite being Little Mix) and it will be a few weeks at most before he puts the pieces together and realizes who you are. He waltzes down to the sitting room and loudly announces his discovery to whoever is there to hear it. His intention was not to get you in trouble, however, and he hardly minds that you work a second job in the public eye. All he asks is you give him a private performance once every so often.

Prosciutto- By himself Prosciutto never would have learned of your identity (do you really think a boomer like him keeps up with the music these days?) but after Illuso lets it slip, he's angry. What on earth were you thinking joining their team when there are so many people around the world who know your face? What kind of crap do you even sing anyway? ... Oh. This is actually kind of good. Prosciutto could get used to this.

Pesci- Following a few girl groups himself there's a fair chance of Pesci discovering the truth for himself. He won't tell anyone however, even you, since he has so little faith in himself he fears being wrong even though the resemblance is plain to see. Once the secret is open, however, he'll shyly admit in private to you how much he adores your songs, and how great he thinks it is that you're able to keep your dreams going even after getting involved in their team.

Melone- Oh he knew, right from the very start. He doesn't tell the others out of respect for you, but he does casually point out the resemblance between you and the popular vocalist to see how you react. Like Pesci, Melone is a fan of your music and thrilled to have you around. He's eager to hear about new songs you're planning to write or tours you'd like to do eventually. He eagerly gives his opinion, and is happy to cover your work when you need to get away to perform with your group for a couple of nights.

Ghiaccio- Most music is stupid anyway. There's so much senseless metaphor that Ghiaccio can't keep track of any of the lyrics, and the themes from song to song are so repetitive. This adds fuel to the fire of Ghiaccio's rage when he discovers the secret identity you've been hoarding all this time, and it may or may not lead to a temper flare up. What brings him round some weeks later, is the sound of your melodic voice around the base as you sing to yourself. It's kind of soothing, Ghiaccio will admit.

Risotto- The captain of La Squadra is not one to interfere in his underlings' personal interests and hobbies. What concerns him however, is the fact that your fame could lead to you being identified during a mission, which could prove detrimental to the team's security. After a long conversation, Risotto concedes to letting you continue both your singing career and your position in La Squadra, but on the condition you take extra care to avoid witnesses. Risotto hasn't known you for long, but you are clearly a cautious and sensible person, so he'll trust you to keep to this.

Sorbet and Gelato- Being among the older members of the team they've fallen a bit behind on the music of the last 5 years, so they don't recognize you right away. What they do notice, however, is the way you look around anxiously for an escape whenever someone asks you about your personal life. So when the secret comes out they tease you relentlessly about how they 'knew all along' when really they only suspected something may be up. They joke often about having a singer friend, semi-seriously asking about the chances of you spending some of your budding fortune on them. They also check out your music, and get a surprising new-found faith in the taste of the youth today.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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themollyjay · 3 years

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The Myths of Forced Diversity and Virtue Signaling.

In my novel Mail Order Bride, the three main characters are a lesbian and two agendered aliens. In my novel Scatter, the main character is a lesbian, the love interest is a pansexual alien, and the major side characters include a half Cuban, half black Dominican lesbian, a Chinese Dragon, a New York born Jewish Dragon, and a Transgender Welsh Dragon. In my novel The Master of Puppets, the Main Characters are a lesbian shapeshifting reptilian alien cyborg and a half black, half Japanese lesbian. The major side characters include three gender fluid shapeshifting reptilian alien cyborgs, and a pansexual human. In my novel Transistor, the main character is a Trans Lesbian, the love interest is a Half human/Half Angel non-observant Ethiopian Jew, and the major side characters include a Transgender Welsh Dragon (the same one from Scatter), a Transgender woman, a Latino Lesbian, an autistic man, three Middle Eastern Arch Angels, and a hive mind AI with literally hundreds of genders. In my novel The Inevitable singularity, one of the main characters is a lesbian, another has a less clearly defined sexuality but she is definitely in love with the lesbian, and the third is functionally asexual due to a vow of chastity she takes very seriously. The major side characters include a straight guy from a social class similar to the Dalit (commonly known as untouchables) in India, a bisexual woman, a man who is from a race of genetically modified human/frog hybrids, and a woman from a race of genetically modified humans who are bred and sold as indentured sex workers.

Why am I bringing all of this up? Well, first, because it’s kind of cool to look at the list of different characters I’ve created, but mostly because it connects to what I want to talk about today, which should be obvious from the title of the essay. The concepts of ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’.

For those who aren’t familiar with these terms, they’re very closely related concepts. ‘Forced Diversity’ is the idea that characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males are only ever included in a story because of outside pressure from some group (usually called Social Justice Warriors, or The Woke Brigade or something similar) to meet some nebulous political agenda. The caveat to this is, of course, that you can have a women/women present as long as they are hot, don’t make any major contributions to the resolution of the plot, and the hero/heroes get to fuck them before the end of the story. ‘Virtue Signaling’, according to Wikipedia, is a pejorative neologism for the expression of a disingenuous moral viewpoint with the intent of communicating good character.

The basic argument is that Forced Diversity is a form of virtue signaling. That no one would ever write characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males because they want to. They only do it to please the evil SJW’s who are somehow both so powerful that they force everybody to conform to their desires, yet so irrelevant that catering to them dooms any creative project to financial failure via the infamous ‘go woke, go broke’ rule.

What the people who push this idea of Forced Diversity tend to forget is that we exist at a point in time when creators actually have more creative freedom than are any other people in history. Comic writers can throw up a website and publish their work as a webcomic without having to go through Marvel, DC or one of the other big names, or get a place in the dying realm of the news paper comics page. Novelists can self-publish with fairly little upfront costs, musicians can use places like YouTube and Soundcloud to get their work out without having to worry about music publishers. Artists can hock their work on twitter and tumblr and a dozen other places. Podcasts are relatively cheap to make, which has opened up a resurgence in audio dramas. Even the barrier to entry for live action drama is ridiculously low.

So, in a world where creators have more freedom than ever before, why would they choose to people their stories with characters they don’t want there? The answer, of course, is that they wouldn’t. Authors, comic creators, indie film creators and so on aren’t putting diverse characters into their stories because they are being forced to. They’re putting diverse characters into their stories because they want to. Creators want to tell stories about someone other than the generically handsome hypermasculine cisgendered heterosexual white males that have been the protagonists of so many stories over the years that we’ve choking on it. A lot of times, creators want to tell stories about people like themselves. Black creators want to tell stories about the black experience. Queer creators want to tell stories about the queer experience.

I’m an autistic, mentally ill trans feminine abuse survivor. Every day, I get up and I struggle with PTSD, with an eating disorder, with severe body dysmorphia, with anxiety and depression and just the reality of being autistic and transgender. I deal with the fact that the religious community I grew up in views me as an abomination, and genuinely believes I’m going to spend eternity burning in hell. I deal with the fact that people I’ve known for decades, even members of my own family, regularly vote for politician who publicly state that they want to strip me of my civil rights because I’m queer. I’m part of a community that experiences a disproportionately high murder and suicide rate. I’ve spent multiple years of my life deep in suicidal depression, and to this day, I still don’t trust myself around guns.

As a creator, I want to talk about those issues. I want to deal with my life experiences. I want to create characters that embody and express aspects of my lived experience and my day-to-day reality. No one is forcing me to put diversity into my books. I try to include Jewish characters as often as I can because there have been a number of important Jewish people in my life. I include queer people because I’m queer and the vast majority of friends I interact with on a regular basis are queer. I include people with mental illnesses and trauma because I am mentally ill and have trauma, and I know a lot of people with mental illnesses and trauma. My work may be full of fantastical elements, aliens and dragons and angels and superheroes and magic and ultra-high technology and AI’s and talking cats and robot dogs and shape shifters and telepaths and all sorts of other things, but at the core of the stories is my own lived experience, and neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males are vanishingly rare in that experience.

Now, I can hear the comments already. The ‘okay, maybe that’s true for individual creators, but what about corporate artwork?’. Maybe not in those exact words, but you get the idea.

The thought here is that corporations are bowing to social pressure to include characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males, and that is somehow bad. But here’s the thing. Corporations are going to chase the dollars. They aren’t bowing to social pressure. There’s no one holding a gun to some executive’s head saying, “You must have this many diversity tokens in every script.” What is happening is that corporations are starting to clue into the fact that people who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males have money. They are putting black characters in their shows and movies because black people watch shows and spend money on movies. They are putting queer people in shows and movies because queer people watch shows and spend money on movies. They are putting women in shows and movies because women watch shows and spend money on movies.

No one is forcing these companies to do this. They are choosing to do it, the same way individual creators are choosing to do it. In the companies’ cases the choices are made for different reasons. It’s not because they are necessarily passionate about telling stories about a particular experience, but because they want to create art to be consumed by the largest audience possible, which means that they have to expand their audience beyond the neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white male by including characters from outside of that demographic.

And the reality is, the cries of ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ almost always come from within that demographic. Note the almost. There are a scattering of individuals from outside that demographic which do subscribe to the ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ myths, but that is a whole other essay. However, within that demographic, lot of the people who cry about ‘forced diversity’ see media and content as a Zero-Sum game. The more that’s created for other people, the less that is created for them.

In a way, they’re right. There are only so many slots for TV shows each week, there are only so many theaters, only so much space on comic bookshelves and so on. But at the end of the day, its literally impossible for them to consume all the content that’s being produced anyway. So, while there is, theoretically less content for them to consume, as a practical matter it’s a bit like someone who is a meat eater going to a buffet with two hundred items, and then throwing a tantrum because five of the items happen to be vegan.

The worst part is, if they could let go of how wound up they are about the ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ they could probably enjoy the content that’s produced for people other than them. I mean, I’m a pasty ass white girl, and I loved Black Panther.

So, to wrap out, creators, make what you want to make, and ignore anyone who cries about forced diversity or virtue signaling. And to people who are complaining about forced diversity and virtue signaling, I want to go back to the buffet metaphor. You need to relax. Even if there are a few vegan options on the buffet, you can still get your medium rare steak, or your chicken teriyaki or whatever it is you want. Or, maybe, just maybe, you could give the falafel a try. That shit is delicious.

#writing #original fiction #media #representation #diversity #the war of souls #the hearts of heroes #The Master of Puppets #scatter #transistor #the inevitable singularity #mail order bride

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mythologymondays · 4 years

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It’s that time again, the time where we all gleefully sit down on the nearest mound and regale ourselves with totally normal Welsh tales of magical women and horses and enchanted bags, because that’s just how the Mabinogion is. Fun sources and FACTS beneath the cut, as always.

Press J on your keyboard if you hate stories about Medieval etiquette, liminality, and magic mounds.

The Prince and the Horse Girl: a temporally disconnected romance for the ages

So, the last we heard of Pwyll, he had successfully cockblocked himself into becoming best friends with Arawn, the Lord of the Underworld, which sounds like a pretty average Friday night in Cardiff, let me tell you. Anyway, Pwyll at this point is just kind of riding high on the fame that being best pals with Arawn brings, and he’s showing his friendship bracelet to everyone he meets and saying stuff like “yeah, it’s great to have the Lord of the Underworld Arawn-ed whenever I need him,” and everyone just sort of rolls their eyes good-naturedly and thinks about death.

One day, Pwyll is at his court at Arbeth, which is one of his most important courts. There’s a huge feast in front of him and all of his courtly pals are there, just chewing the fat. Pwyll tears off the leg of another whole roast pig, probably his eighth of the session, and he’s about to bite into it when he realises that everyone sat around the table is staring at him, so he puts down the pig leg really gingerly and says, “do I have hog spleen around my mouth or something?” and one of his courtly crew, who doesn’t get a name in the original text and so will henceforth be known as Brad, says, “no, my lord, but you do have practically an entire herd of pigs in your stomach, so maybe it’s time for a walk?”

Pwyll blinks at him and he’s like, “I don’t really see why I would want to go for a walk in the yucky outside when I could be sitting here and savouring delicious morsels of tenderly roasted flesh,” and Brad shrugs and says, “well, I read an article about nutrition in this scientific journal last week, and apparently it’s not actually that good for you to just eat constantly and never go outside ever,” and Pwyll is like, “no, but it’s super fun,” and Brad sighs and he’s like, “look, I wasn’t going to tell you this, just in case you got too excited, but there’s actually a mound outside,” and then Pwyll’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates and he cries, “a mound? Seriously? You’re not just fucking with me to get me to go outside?” and Brad is like, “no, there’s seriously a genuine, 100% organic mound outside, and it’s only a short walk away,” and so Pwyll pushes his chair out from under the table and he’s all, “lead the way, pal, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner that there was a fucking rad mound outside, you know how much I love mounds.”

So, they all traipse outside on horseback, and lo and behold, Brad wasn’t lying. There really is an absolutely incredible mound outside, all earthy and hilly, and… look. I’ll level with you. It’s hard to get excited about a mound, but Pwyll manages it. I have no idea how. God knows I’ve tried. But anyway, he leads his merry band of lads up to the top of the mound, and they’re all about to sit down when Brad puts out a hand and stops Pwyll from doing so. Pwyll is like, “dude, stop crushing my vibe, I’m about to become sedentary on this sediment,” and Brad just shakes his head and he’s like, “bro, I need to tell you something about the mound, because I may have undersold it.”

Pwyll is obviously in complete disbelief at this point, just like, “mate, there’s no way you undersold it. It can’t get any cooler than this. It just can’t. Have you seen it?” and Brad is like, “yes, it’s a really interesting geological formation, and the topography also makes it look a bit like a butt, which is obviously super rad, but I didn’t tell you that it’s also a magic mound, because if a nobleman sits on it, one of two things will happen: either he’ll see something absolutely fantastic, like the original The Mummy film starring Brendan Fraser or a cool dog, or he’ll get maimed and mortally wounded. It’s 50/50, to be honest with you.”

Pwyll just blinks at him, and he’s like, “dude, those are two very different things, but you know, I really can’t pass up the opportunity to see a cool dog,” and Brad says, “I need you to know that the dog was just a random example, I make no canine promises here, I can’t stress that enough,” and Pwyll just shrugs and scoffs, “whatever, dude. Anyway, if I do get totally maimed, I’ve got my posse here, and you’ll do first aid on me, won’t you?” and Brad just sort of nods nervously, because they haven’t even invented antiseptic in Medieval Wales and all their bandages are just, like, old socks drenched in ale, and they don’t have St John Ambulance to teach them all first aid because there isn’t even a J in the Welsh alphabet, and then Pwyll grits his teeth and sits down.

Almost immediately, this brilliant white horse just zooms past them, and Pwyll is like, “oh, that’s fucking sick, my dudes! I thought a dog would be cool, but a horse? Are you kidding me? It doesn’t get much better than this! Equestrian displays are my jam!” and then Brad rolls his eyes and he’s like, “my lord, did you not notice that there was a phenomenally sexy and almost certainly magic lady in gold riding that horse?” and Pwyll is like, “honestly, no, I was kind of distracted by the fetlocks, but now you come to mention it, she’s pretty attractive, I guess. Hey, do you think I could catch up with her and ask her where she got her cool horse?”

So he gets back on his horse and he tries to catch up with the lady, but even though Pwyll’s horse was sold to him as being the fastest ride on four legs, he can’t even come close to her. He walks back to his lads, his metaphorical tail between his actual legs, and he’s like, “dudes, we’re going to formulate a plan tonight,” and then a random guy in the posse is like, “oh cool, I brought Sharpies,” and they go back to Arbeth Court and spend literally all night just drawing diagrams and equations on a tapestry of England, because that’s probably the best use for it.

The next day, they put their plan in action. Pwyll gets his youngest, fittest lad, plops him on his biggest, muscliest horse, the one that’s like an equine version of that man in Game of Thrones who keeps breaking weightlifting records and is almost definitely earmarked to play Atlas in some big budget Greek myth film, and sends him after the lady. But still, no matter how fast they ride, she’s always one step ahead of them. At one point, they almost catch up with her, but when Pwyll reaches out to stroke her silky blonde hair in a totally normal and cool way, she pulls forward again and he just fucking eats dust. It’s humiliating.

And this goes on for three days, because princes don’t have, like, hobbies in Medieval Wales, or apparently any princely duties that would make galavanting after a magic horse woman for half a week kind of inconvenient for the general populace, and gradually, Pwyll’s men all bow out one by one, probably because they’ve all developed an absolutely stonking case of piles from being on horseback for three days solid, and then Pwyll is alone in his romantic and also literal pursuit.

Exhausted, starving and probably desperate for the loo at this point, Pwyll throws his head back and howls, “what the fuck is going on on this day? I’ve tried everything! I’m absolutely stumped. I don’t know what to do about this. I’ve considered it from every possible angle. I chased her, and that didn’t work. I got my wingman to chase her, and that didn’t work. Those are my only two options in the entire world. I just don’t know what else I can do. It’s completely fucking futile, I wish I’d just seen a dog instead,” and then a flash of inspiration comes to him, and he just calls out to the woman, “erm, could you maybe just, like, stop?” and, like a miracle, she does.

When he catches up to her, she glares at him, and says, “I’ve literally been waiting three whole days for you to just ask me to stop, why did it take you so long?” and Pwyll is like, “I sort of thought that it was implied, to be honest with you, what with all the chasing and me crying loudly about my unending solitude and the futility of love,” and she shrugs and says, “well, if we’re to be marred, we really have to work on our communication,” and Pwyll is like, “wait, what, who said anything about marriage?” and she just rolls her eyes, like, “look, I’m a sexy Medieval maiden and you’re a prince with some land and gendered expectations, so of course we’re going to get married,” and he’s like, “well, if we marry, that means I get to ride your horse whenever I want, right?” and she nods, like, “yes, that’s definitely the primary appeal of marriage.”

But just as he’s about to get down on one knee, she looks at him again, and says, “I should just tell you something super quick, in the name of true love and Medieval marriage etiquette,” and he’s like, “what, your name?” and she says, “no, not that, although it’s Rhiannon, but mostly I’m thinking of the fact that you actually have to wait a whole year to propose to me, because I’m almost engaged to someone else, who I hate, and I need to sort that all out first.”

Pwyll frowns and says, “hang on, is this going to be another one of those weird magic things where I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “what the fuck, no, there’s not going to be any murder at all, just a lavish engagement feast and some nuptials and probably some awkward standing around with the in-laws to-be,” and he’s like, “so why do we have to wait a year?” and she just waves her arms around and says, “temporally disconnected Otherworld shit, my love, I don’t make the rules. Just come to the court of Hyfaidd Hen in exactly a year, and we’ll do the whole ball and chain thing. It’ll be great.”

So he agrees, because of course he does, and the next thing he knows, it’s a year later, and he goes to Hyfaidd Hen and Rhiannon’s there in this beautiful McQueen wedding dress, looking all Kate Middleton but without the colonial royal associations, and there’s an absolutely exquisite feast laid out, with a whole array of delicious Medieval food, like unseasoned meat pies and room-temperature ale that looks like piss, and Pwyll just thinks to himself how cool it all is, but he also secretly harbours a lingering regret for the previous year, where he was forced after a blunder of etiquette to kill a random man in a duel, and although he feels bad about it, a part of him longs for the decadent adventures of his bachelorhood, when murder was more than just a six letter word.

They’re all just kind of milling about on the dancefloor, listening to the bards spit some absolute club classics like Y Gododdin by Aneurin, which really gets the toes tapping, when this random dude with a chiseled jawline and a playful glint in his eye comes up to Pwyll and extends his hand for Pwyll to shake. Pwyll, who is completely head over heels for manners and etiquette, shakes the man’s hand, and says, “hello, new friend! What can I do for you?” and Rhiannon elbows him in the side, and hisses, “be careful, fiancé dearest, don’t let him tangle you up in a web of etiquette from which there is no escape,” and Pwyll waves her off, saying, “my sweet darling, I am a prince of Wales; manners are my middle name,” and he turns back to the man.

The man grins at him, and he says, “I’ve come to ask a favour of you, Pwyll, prince of Wales,” and Pwyll, still enamoured by this man’s manners, is struck by an overwhelming desire to just do whatever this perfectly polite man wants, so he spreads his arms wide in a benevolent gesture, conveniently using it as an excuse to set down his glass of lukewarm piss ale on a nearby shelf, and says, “literally anything you want, my friend, I’ll give you!” and then the stranger’s grin turns into a smirk and he says, “by your word?” and Pwyll is like, “fuck yeah, man, by all of my words, as God and all these noble guests are my witness!” and the stranger is like, “sick bro, I want to marry Rhiannon, and I also want your wedding feast.”

And Pwyll has no idea what to say to that, because he just promised this man anything he wanted, so he decides that maybe silence is his best bet here, and the man grins at him, and stalks off, knowing that there’s literally nothing that Pwyll can do now except reconsider all of his life choices up to this point.

When the man has left, Rhiannon groans, “you phenomenal dick, that man was Gwawl and he’s the complete bag of dicks that my parents tried to marry me off to, and you just got me affianced to him!” and Pwyll just grits his teeth and hisses, “well, dear, you might have told me that before I told him I’d do whatever he wanted,” and Rhiannon sighs and says, “you’re right, but look, we can work through this. Here’s the plan. Firstly, we’ll tell him that he can’t have the feast, because it’s not yours to give, but mine, and we’ll prepare him an equal feast instead. Then, we’ll tell him that he can marry me a year from today, but here’s the thing - on the day of the wedding, you’ll secretly turn up in disguise with a very tiny magic bag and you’ll ask him, very reasonably, for just enough food to fill the bag. He’ll obviously say yes, because even he can’t turn down something that reasonable, but the bag will be enchanted to never be filled, so you’ll just take all the food, until he asks you how he can help you fill the bag, and you tell him that a fine nobleman has to step on it to seal it, and then he’ll step on it, and then you jump on him and pull the bag over his head and tie him up in the bag and hang it from a rafter, and then you’ll blow your hunting horn to summon your posse of lads and you’ll all beat him to a bloody, pulpy death in the bag.”

Pwyll just blinks at her, and says, “sweetheart, love of my life, light of my existence, did you perchance dream up that oddly specific plan a while ago, because if not, then your imagination terrifies me,” and this small, maniacal grin plays on her lips, and she says, “darling, you know how you asked me last year if you’d have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location, and I told you no?” and he’s like, “yes, I do remember that,” and she says, “well, ask me again,” and so he says, “babe, do I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “yes, sweetheart, but I’ve got it in the bag,” and then they high five each other and do a vengeful murder jig for like ten minutes.

And of course, a year later, they do it all over again, this time with a tiny enchanted bag and a goddamn point to prove, but that’s a story for another time.

My other retellings can be found here, and my Mythology Mondays Facebook page is here. My book is here. Yay.

I’m going to level with you: I typed out a whole bunch of super cool academic stuff and then my turdwallet of a laptop crashed and deleted all of it, and I honestly want to perish very slightly at the prospect of typing it all out again, but in a nutshell:

Some people think that Rhiannon was a horse goddess who was undeified by the Christian dudes who wrote down the pagan Welsh myths all those years later. While the Christian dudes did almost certainly sanitise the source material, we just don’t have any real proof of what they left out. The main argument for Rhiannon being a horse goddess is that she’s a woman and there was, erm, a horse. Not the most compelling argument. Some people also think she may be a cognate to the Gallic horse goddess, Epona, but this is basically extrapolated from the fact that they’re both female and somehow linked to horses, which I don’t think would fly in a court of law.

If you’re wondering why Pwyll didn’t just tell Gwawl to fuck off, it’s because he’s bound, as a nobleman, by a very strict code of honour and morals. By giving Gwawl his word, even before he knew what he was agreeing to, Pwyll made a binding promise. If he goes back on his word, Gwawl is well within his rights to challenge the fuck out of him.

Welsh myth and the Otherworld is super interesting. The Otherworld was generally believed to only be accessible at certain times and via certain places, called ‘liminal spaces’, such as bogs, bodies of water, and caves. Liminal spaces are essentially a sort of sacred space which exists in the in between, where the boundaries between worlds are porous and can be crossed, provided certain ritual conditions are met. The mound in this particular narrative is likely a portal to the Otherworld, which explains why Pwyll was able to access the magical realm of Rhiannon through it. The Otherworld, although not explicitly an Underworld, does have links with death and the afterlife, as do mounds, so that strengthens the connection. Bet you never knew mounds were so fucking cool.

Primary sources:

Davies, Sioned (2007) The Mabinogion, New York: Oxford University Press

Secondary sources:

Goldwasser, Michele (1994) What Drives the Mabinogi? Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 14, 49-57

Linkletter, Michael (2001) Magical Realism and the “Mabinogi”: an Exercise in Methodology, Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 21, 51-63

Wachsler, Arthur (1975) The Elaborate Ruse: A Motif of Deception in Early Celtic Historical Variants of the Journey to the Other World, Journal of the Folklore Institute, 12(1) 29-46

#mythology mondays #celtic myth #welsh myth #pwyll #rhiannon #mythology #mabinogi #mabinogion

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ceilingfan5 · 3 years

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because I’m always desperate for more of your writing, werewolf/high school au (can you tell I loved teen wolf)

i have not actually seen teen wolf. it’s about two guys in love right

“Hey, Taako, are you doing okay?”

Taako jumps when someone acknowledges him and almost melts into the hot, hot pavement when he realizes it’s fucking Kravitz. Certified hottie Kravitz. Taako’s big embarrassing crush, Kravitz. The whole reason Taako even joined color guard, just so he could watch him march with that big stupid saxophone, Kravitz. And the whole reason Taako’s on this dumb trip in the first place.

Taako tries to fake a reassuring smile. Judging by the look on Kravitz’s face, it didn’t go so hot.

“Fine,” he chirps. “Totally great. Super fine. Having a great time. Glad to, be here.”

Kravitz does not go away. In fact, he sits next to Taako, alarmingly close, and Taako feels his heart slam into his chest like a dodgeball. He could choke right now and his problem would be over. But flying his body home from Disneyland would be expensive.

He does wonder if they actually have a morgue, though.

“Is it because it’s expensive?” Kravitz’s voice is soft and gentle, like his concern is actually coming from a good place in his heart and not some sort of cruel teenage bullshit. “You can have some of my per diem. I don’t need a lot of souvenirs.”

Taako blushes hard, partially because Kravitz clocked him so easily as super fucking poor, and partially because his crush is being kind to him in public. He hopes none of their peers in stupid hats have any interest in anything besides themselves and this goes completely unnoticed by the loudmouths in the flute section.

“I, no, thanks, I’m good, I did-” he clears his throat. Dodgeballs wedged up there in the basketball hoop. Gym teacher’s gonna have to get it down with a big stick. Or another dodgeball. “Did a lot of, uh, fundraising, I’m good there.”

“Oh.” Kravitz thinks for a moment. “Crap, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No- no, you’re good.”

“Really?” Kravitz gives him the sweetest smile. Taako wants to take a fucking bite out of him.

“Yeah, really. Don’t worry about me. I’m good.”

“Well, you don’t look good.” There’s a beat. And then. “Balls- sorry- you, I mean you do look good, you- you look good all the time, I just mean-”

Taako laughs, even as he blushes harder and harder.

“You can chill, bud, it’s good, no worries.”

“I don’t know, Taako,” Kravitz says very seriously. “I have a hard time chilling around you.”

Ugh, he’s perfect.

“No, it’s um,” Taako tries to ignore that, and the way it makes his ears burn. “Listen, can you keep a secret?”

Kravitz’s eyes go wide. “Absolutely.”

Taako glances around to make sure no one is listening to their very important high school secrets. They seem to be safe. Although the churro guy does look a little suspicious. Taako goes for it anyway, on a wing and a prayer that Kravitz won’t freak out.

“I’ve got lycanthropy,” he mumbles. “And I kind of realized-”

“Oh my gosh.”

“It’s my time of the month, yeah.”

Kravitz reaches over and clasps Taako’s hands in his, and the second dodgeball is now also stuck. He is going to die.

“Are you going to be okay??”

“Um-” He still hasn’t let go. Shit. Balls. Taako’s blood pressure is rising. “Fine. I just, um, I might have to miss Medieval Times, cause. We’ll get back after dark.”

“Right...”

“And- I don’t know if my roommates will be okay with it… I was supposed to share with the drumline ‘cause I’m the only guy on the stupid color guard, but-”

“What if I traded?” Kravitz’s eyes are even wider now. “What if- what if I pretended to be sick and stayed back with you?”

Taako’s going to pass out.

“You don’t- dog, you’d love Medieval Times, knights and shit? C’mon. You don’t have to do that for me.”

“I will.” He’s so flipping serious, Taako could die.

“You seriously don’t have to. But...”

“But?”

“It- it might be nice to share a room with you and not with the boner squad? I’m not like- dangerous or anything, but- it’s all really overwhelming and shit-”

“I’ll do it.” Kravitz stands up way too fast and nearly knocks Taako’s turkey leg to the pavement. “I’ll go talk to the chaperones right now.”

“You’d do that for me?” The dodgeballs are melting. This metaphor is getting out of hand.

“Taako,” Kravitz smiles. “I’d do anything for you.”

#taakitz #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #long post #sorry i got carried away. the spirit of high school overtook me. please send flowers #thank you!!

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