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probably-haven · 3 years

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How Visions Work(Theory)

genshin spoilers

there’s a lot of headcanons about the effect of visions on the body temperature of the characters with pyro or cryo visions but a lot of them stop there an i want to propose we take it one step further

so the general agreement is that pyro users run hot and cryo characters run cold but imma take a moment to talk about the science of that real quick.

if something feels warm, its because the object is expelling heat from itself to its outside environment(itself losing warmth) if something feels cold, its because it’s absorbing and taking the heat from the outside environment into itself(itself gaining warmth)

which actually matches up pretty well with how i believe their visions work which ill cover before getting into what i think that means

pyro visions work by absorbing the users body heat and before then expelling it into the environment when they wish to use it. When the vision reaches what is essentially its max storage capacity, it resumes working at normal, absorbing heat from the user until it’s used, but at this point it stabilizes, because the pyro energy built up within begins overflowing into the nearby environment, a majority of it returning to the user to keep their body temperature from getting too dangerously out of wack. But by passing through the vision, the body heat is converted into pyro energy and made more intense, so the surplus tends to linger around the user, hence the heat that can be felt when touching or around them. the user can then use their powers with either the pyro energy stored in the vision, or that which still lingers around them.

cryo visions on the other hand work in a bit more of a complicated manor. like pyro visions and other visions, most of the energy that they get is from interaction with the user, in this instance, steadily taking heat from the environment that would have naturally have been observed by the vision had it been any other inanimate object and passing in through the vision and into the user, the process creating of the heat leaving the vision creating cryo energy, a sort of anti-heat vaccuum-like substance, which once it reaches it’s max, overflows in a way similar to the pyro vision, leaking into the nearby environment, helping to balance the user’s body temperature while the remainder lingers around them, absorbing heat from the environment. the user can then use the energy stored in the vision(less than pyro because more steps means less room) or that which still lingers around them (more because less room means more over flow), plus they need more surplus in order to balance cuz their temperature is more volatile

visions do however possess the ability to begin expelling energy early should the user’s body temperature become too dangerous, an ability that is missing from delusions of the corresponding element

this leads me to have a few headcanons that i really like because im obsessed with angst

1. contrary to what you might believe, after using a significant amount of their powers, Pyro users are are absolutely cold to the touch(cuz the lack of surplus energy leaves nothing to disguise or raise their low body temperature as the constantly absorbing heat to refuel) and Cryo users feel hot (the lack of surplus energy doing nothing to disguise or lower their high body temperature as the vision is constantly having to expel surrounding heat into the user in order to refuel cryo energy)

2. however during this state they are also the least likely to leave behind traces of elemental energy(like those that can be seen with elemental sight)

3. this cycling of energy actually makes a vision behave more like a part of the user that also serves its own role in maintaining homeostasis (makes it so losing a vision is quite literally comparable to losing an organ)

4. until the vision has enough stored energy for surplus to linger, Cryo users are prone to over heating and Pyro users are prone to the opposite

5. this rapid and common changing of internal body temperature also tends to weaken their immune systems

6. the lingering surplus of energy is also more easy to manipulate than the stored energy, so while it lingers, it has a tendency to be easily influenced by the user’s emotions.

7. yes this means accidentally freezing and setting things on fire during emotional extremes, or more subtle effects for those that are less extreme

8. in dragonspine, Cyro users are actually weaker but healthier. The lack of heat to cycle through their vision and body means less cryo energy is created, but less heat is there to build up in their bodies

9. Pyro users on the other hand- are in real big danger, unless they made sure to have large amounts of elemental energy before hand. They take longer at the torches they like because they need every bit of heat to raise their naturally low temperature and to make more pyro energy to both light the next torch, and to constantly have enough surplus that it doesn’t just steadily drain all the pyro they have.

10. a lot of the pyro users are overly energetic and active and move around alot, which is known to raise body temperature, and whould help with this, then there’s hu tao who while energetic is not all that active, but i think her job of “guarding the border” makes her more tolerant of the low body temperature. similar to yanfei’s constitution as an adeptus. Bennet is energetic but doesn’t move around quite as much and all, but... his luck is bad enough that he just thinks everyone feels like/has to deal with that. and Diluc- we’ve all seen the fluffy jacket. Klee constantly setting grass on fire and otherwise being hyper. Amber, gliding champion of mondstad, “i feel like running” Amber. Yoimiya is pretty active and works around fire. I dont have Xinyan so i dont know for sure in her case but i assume it fits the bill.

11. as for cryo characters- Qiqi is a zombie and Ganyu is half adeptus, different constitution. A lot of the characters are or try to be more calm and level headed, known for being kind of “slackers” to use kaeya’s words, though by this i mean they dont do excessive physical activity outside of training and that which is necessary. Diona is a bartender, often staying in one place, the opposite of pyro, keeping her body temperature down. Ayaka rarely leaves the kamisato estate. Chongyun is complicated- more on him later. Rosaria known for shirking her church duties and being basically lazy, the same as Kaeya. And Eula- i actually dont have an explanation- maybe just... the training to endure- like that one test where you have to walk through dragonspine all fancy without being thrown off.

now as for Chongyun

him with his popsicles and yang energy, needing to maintain a cool body temperature at all times as a result of his constitution

i mentioned a failsafe of visions, where should their users’ body temperature lean to dangerously to any one extreme, the vision will begin releasing the stored elemental energy early.

Chongyun’s however doesn’t store energy at all, instead immediately expelling all cryo energy it makes as soon as it forms so it can immediately absorb any dangerous body heat that Chongyun was exposed to in it’s making. This means that the surplus energy(the type more likely to be accidentally manipulated by emotions) around Chongyun is more than most other cryo users would have.

however, the balance is really fragile because his temperature is kept from getting out of hand almost entirely by his vision so external factors are extremely dangerous, as there is a still a cooldown between the transfer of heat the release of cryo energy- so unexpected sources of heat can cause a rapid rise in already fragile temperature that runs its course and wreaks havoc on the childe before the cryo energy is able to balance it out- and the problem is- with the surplus being easily manipulated by emotions, the sudden rise in temperature has a tendency to activate it, using it up and leaving him without a source of temperature regulation, which only worsens the problem. at which point the vision probably begins storing cryo energy until theres enough built up to reset his body temperature in one go- which usually ends with him passed out.

anyways i had a lot more planned to write but if i kept going i fear how long it’d get- i just think it has potential to evolve into a lot of cool things and theories for how the world works, and reflect the archons..... let me explain that-

so assuming anemo energy is created bey absorbing and then renewing the oxygen in the user’s blood, as opposed to dangerous body temperatures, it tends to have an anemic affect on their wielders, hence why all the anemo vision users have this tired air to them, Xiao’s... Xiao-ness- he just looks exhausted, Jean’s constant exhaustion that totally isnt made any better by her workload, Kazuha’s general calm relaxed disposition, and sucrose’s general demeanor- idk i just think anemo vision wielders give off anemic vibes, until they have enough surplus for the taken oxygen to replenish

except for venti- who doesn’t actually use a vision, who is literally a wind sprite, made of air- always running around and being all energetic- because he doesn’t face these problems- if anything he has extra energy and air to use. He’s basically the opposite. (windrise may have some weight in this-)

which means other archons may model this-

im not sure about geo but with electro

assuming that the constant transfer of electricity through the user’s body would eventually have a frying effect that shortens their lifespan over time(an idea largely inspired by Lisa’s voice line on visions and other theories on it) then Baal’s steady eternity serves as another opposite to this and yet pursuing eternity it becomes odd that she would give visions at all, so i feel archons must get some benefit from giving visions or she wouldn’t have done it-

but anyways imma stop now- hopefully someone found this interesting and runs with it, but if not it makes sense too

... actually geo might have something to do with an erosion-like metaphor, similar to what was brought up in the azdaha fight

still thinking about hydro tho, and im not even gonna bother with dendro

....

..... can you tell that I kin Sucrose and Albedo yet? It’s not even funny istg it’s becoming a problem .... actually scratch that i have a dark sense of humor, its kinda pretty funny

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bondsmagii · 3 years

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Hey read (some of) this blog post (long as hell), tries to pick it up where your old scp cult post left off: lackoflepers medium com/scp-is-not-a-cult-196e87ce6b11

(link)

this is insane. I've never written anything that's ever received a full response before, so that's exciting. what's even more exciting is that this piece does raise some really interesting questions, and is very well-written and thoughtful.

the strange thing is, I think we're both in agreement -- but I'm calling it a cult, and the author of this piece is calling it a "fledgling religion". I agree with this outlook, if I'm honest -- but at the same time I can't help but think that this has filled a hole in my cult theory, rather than poked a hole in it.

when I wrote the original cult post, the one thing I couldn't quite equate was the religion aspect. there was a lot of things to consider from that aspect, in terms of cults requiring a certain doctrine, rituals, etc, and while I was able to draw comparisons to the site culture and these things, it didn't quite fit. this article explains and illustrates exactly what all of these things are, and the sheer amount of similarities between the SCP wiki culture and religious fundamentalists. it's absolutely incredible, how it all still adds up.

however, some things are way off. I understand the author has a history with site and with staff, and they obviously understand that there's a complicated relationship between the two. the piece certainly tackles the question from an educated site-critical standpoint, but I can't help but notice some glaring omissions and in some places, assumptions which I feel are quite simply incorrect. under the cut we go, because this is long.

the author seems to be very ignorant of the site's cyclical patterns. one of their main arguments for the wiki's not being a cult is how people like Dr Gears and thedeadlymoose don't have more power over the masses, being such important figures. the problem with the wiki is that it is very cyclical, and big names of one era do not translate over to new eras. big names replace old ones, and the old ones either become fond grandparent figures (like Gears, who had the sense to take a step back before the tides changed against him) or they become irrelevant or reviled (like thedeadlymoose, or pixelatedharmony (Roget).) this means that if the former appeals to the group, they will get essentially a pat on the head and a gentle dismissal, or if the latter speak out they will be silenced, harassed, banned, etc. this is very cultlike behaviour -- if somebody goes against the grain, they become an immediate enemy of the people. the only way to survive fame on the wiki is to retire quietly, at your peak, and keep yourself to yourself.

going on from this, there are also different levels to how a staff member is seen. there have been eras of the site where the site admin might not be as impressive as one of the prolific writers, for example. who these days knows about The Administrator? it's all Dr Gears to them. different authors have different levels of unofficial authority, and the author of the piece doesn't seem to realise that it's a cult of personality as much as anything else. there are constant divisions among staff, even if they present a united front; frequently those not toeing the party line have been ostracised or purged, and this filters down to the average user. just because a person is on staff does not mean they immediately skyrocket to godhood, if we're using the religious metaphor. this is why it seems as though "staff" as a whole isn't uniformly worshipped -- they're not. there are complex currents of power at work here, and it's frustrating because at first glance it seems to invalidate the very real fact that a few site members have all the authority. the staff worship extends to staff members. those in lower tiers will act similarly to those in higher tiers as a new member would act towards all staff.

the author draws attention to thedeadlymoose's impressive efforts to bring the site forward from its 4chan beginnings and make it more inclusive to LGBT members -- something that has undoubtedly had an effect. however, the author does not mention that to date, the site's only successful splinter site (as in, a site that lasted more than a few weeks) is RPC, and while this website came about for multiple reasons, it's undeniable that one of these reasons was because of the fact that the wiki was openly supportive of LGBT people during Pride Month. it's also interesting to note that the author is also a member of the RPC site, so it's odd that this piece of the site's origins is not mentioned.

the acceptance of these pro-LGBT policies also seems to be less wide-spread than the author believes -- most people don't care, there does exist users who are homophobic or transphobic, and -- something I'm surprised wasn't mentioned at all in the piece -- when LGBT members of the site spoke up and said the new logo made them feel pandered to, and the resulting blowout made them feel targeted and unsafe, they were mass banned from the subreddit by a rogue moderator who, incensed by the fact his authority was so challenged, then ragequit and abused people on the threads for several hours. this is a typical staff response to discontent in the masses. so yes, thedeadlymoose did have some significant sway in the attitude changing somewhat, but it was not as widespread (nor as cared about) as the article's author seems to think.

now, I shall move on to specific quotations.

Furthermore, as a gaggle of creators, SCP should never feature the mass conformity of thought that defines a cult; theirs is an ecosystem that predicates itself upon creation, and obsessively on the new and original — that is to say, the different (but tempered).

while the author does elaborate on this idea of creativity and conformity, this is just wrong. again, I blame the author's ignorance in regards to the cyclical nature of the site -- which isn't the fault of the author, in my opinion. such cycles are slow, measuring out in years rather than months, which is insanely long for an internet community. in order to notice them, you would have to have been observing for some time -- which I have been. since I have been observing the site (which has been since its very creation -- I was on the 4chan thread in 2007 when 173 was created and I have seen the wiki from its infancy on EditThis over to wikidot) I have seen this happen countless times. a type of writing, be it style or genre, takes off. it could be LOLFoundation, grimdark, whatever -- it takes off, it runs the site for a year or so, and then it crashes and burns. when it takes off, there are rules for writing it that must be obeyed lest you be downvoted to oblivion. as the attitude turns against it, those who still write it are vilified and ostracised, and the new one takes over. there have been mass purges in the past, and there has always been, since the wiki's inception, conformity of thought. one of my oldest complaints about the wiki is that, for a site full of writers, they have no imagination and absolutely no desire to step out of the approved style.

To put it very broadly, things get accustomed to the status quo in a highly regulated environment, and get better at simply remaining and surviving in that.

this could be a decent rebuff to my previous point, but the fact is that while the SCP wiki harbours cultish behaviour, a vast majority of the users are casual readers who maybe write one or two articles. the stagnation is, at least partially, because of the fact that most users sign up, read some articles, think "cool, I have an idea for one!", write it -- and have it emulate the articles they've read, thus sounding similar in tone and content to the rest of the recent articles -- get a semi-decent response if lucky, and then move on after a few months or years.

the people who power the wiki, however -- who are prolific, who churn out insane amount of articles -- are suffering from what I outlined in my above point. a small percentage of the wiki dictates the direction it goes. it has always been like this -- and people who go against the grain that staff have employed, be it old user or new, will pay for it. this payment is often in downvotes, but occasionally comes in harassment, bans, or deletions, too.

Lastly a cult is really the most extreme version of a religion, it is a religion on steroids.

this is straight-up incorrect. cults began as religions gone hayware, yes, but the idea of a cult as a Jonestown-style compound in the middle of nowhere is outdated. cults are the most extreme version of an ideology -- be it religious, political, or otherwise. they are ideologies on steroids. thanks to the internet, they also no longer have to be in real life spaces. you can be in a social cult on Twitter or on Discord; you can be in a cult of ideology on an incel forum or in a social circle of TERF blogs. all of these things are cults. they have cult-like behaviour and thinking.

this is where the author proves my point beyond all doubt. the author says the following about the wiki's increasingly left-wing inclusive policies:

What was intended to be an executive extension in peace has, due to the force required to counteract the sheer hostility and persecution once leveled at this group at its peak, instead overshot its mark and has become a brutal bureaucratic sanctioning of political identity. (I can hear someone saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.)

the biggest shift in this cult-think, for me, was observed when the shift towards Terminally Online Woke Left attitudes began to be increasingly observed. I'm not talking about getting people to tone down the homophobia and whatnot. I'm talking about this culture of purity and suffering that the author outlines very well in the article; if you have read the article, I needn't go over it again. the wiki now holds a monopoly on suffering using the same kind of Oppression Olympics as other spaces devoted to purity culture -- and purity culture is a cult. this is straight-up fact at this point. it is my belief that staff identified the power available to them in a) targeting people from oppressed and vulnerable groups and giving them a so-called safe space and b) using their various oppressions to their advantage.

something that is prolific in purity culture circles is that somebody who is oppressed in any way cannot be held to blame for their actions. they cannot be a bad person. this is ideological armour, and staff wields it. they also use purity culture and apparently progressive ideology to shut down anyone who dissents, and to smear their name and have then ostracised as an enemy. why do they do this? liking the power and fame of their position is a big part of it, as the author outlined, but something major is missing.

throughout the entire article, the author does not once mention the detailed and extensive history of staff sexually abusing minors on the site.

this is well-documented by this point. staff has seen many predators in its ranks, including one of the most prolific site members of all time -- AdminBright, or The Duckman. staff has known about these staff members and has covered it up over years. I myself have heard testimony from countless victims, but whenever we raise enough of a stink, a staff member does an "internal investigation" and nothing comes of it. the fact that the cult-like behaviour of this website can be discussed without one of the cornerstones of cult activity -- using its members for financial or sexual gain -- is astounding to me.

to go on from this, there is also no mention of the SCP lawyer fund, which raised over $30,000 and then faced staff actively resisting transparency as to the case and the funds. financial manipulation is another major example of cult behaviour.

without acknowledging these two things, I do not think that a full argument against the idea of the SCP wiki as a cult can be possible.

the author raises a good point that illustrates both why staff acts the way it does, and why the users are so eager to imitate:

The answer is something that can turn someone into their nemesis; something that would make someone sell their soul for 1000 upvotes; that tragic commonality that binds all individuals who feel the need to write; the need to be received, but more, to be loved for it.

this is a big reason why staff clings to its power, and why people sell out their creativity, and why people emulate this behaviour, and why prolific authors burn out so fast. however, running through all of this at its core -- through the need to be received and loved -- is the power that comes with it. this is all about power.

to mention the specific example of LordStonefish, and his reaction when he found out that his interviewer was enemy of the people pixelatedharmony, now of "burning out, ragequitting the site, and going to talk shit on KiwiFarms" infamy:

[...] it was as if LSF was speaking to a leper, and that the ongoing participation in the salvation of public approval (not to mention site participation as well) was directly dependent upon LSF’s rebuke of pH as a demon who is only worthy of a terrible fate and, as we see in the screencaps, even death.

leaving my personal opinions on Harmony out of this, going from a perfectly civil interview to finding out that the interviewer was an enemy and not only dumping all of his private information to offset doxing, but also going into detail about some highly personal stuff for shock value... I don't think Harmony quite required that treatment. the fact is that, as the quote outlines above, the only way to ensure that he wouldn't be completely ostracised for fraternising with the enemy (KiwiFarms -- of which Harmony is apparently the ambassador) was to behave like a man shunning a sinner. Harmony has sinned -- she rejected the status quo, she defied the group and its authority, and LordStonefish, in order to remain safe from being tarred with the same brush -- has to react with suitable horror to her presence.

it should be noted here that while KiwiFarms has a reputation for being a hive of scum and villainy, its main reputation regarding the SCP Wiki has been for being the one place where complaints against the site are openly discussed, often by defected staff members such as pixelatedharmony and Cyantreuse, and perhaps most telling of all -- the place where a lot of accounts of sexual harassment and abuse have been filed. staff rails against it on the grounds of it being filled with people who use slurs and have questionable ideological beginnings (ironic, coming from a website which began on 4chan) -- but as a leftist myself with extensive knowledge of the wiki, I can confirm that no criticisms I've seen on there have been unfair or inaccurate, and in fact a lot of the evidence and testimony posted there is damning. it would be fair to not wish to associate with the site because of its content in other places, or even its past reputation, but the fact staff rail against it so hard when it's currently one of the only places (and certainly the only public place) where their deeds are on display? it's interesting.

of LordStonefish's reaction, the author says:

This is the behavior of a deeply religious figure.

it is. this is the reaction of a Mormon meeting an old friend who has left the church. this is the reaction of a Jehovah's Witness crossing the street to avoid a shunned neighbour. it is the behaviour, you could say, of a cult member.

in the conclusion, the author states:

And if anyone is to shoulder blame for the creation of this pathology and its complex, it are those true bigots of history and today, who don’t have the spiritual maturity to understand that someone’s sexual preference or identity shouldn’t be enough to categorically separate them from a definition of humanity; to beat, maim, and wish death upon them.

perhaps this might have been true, perhaps this might have drawn a thoughtful and damning line under the whole affair, if not for the fact that this behaviour has been occurring since long before the internet became known for its progressive and now increasingly often, ridiculous takes on inclusion and sensitivity. this kind of cultish groupthink has been ongoing since the wiki's very first inception. the cyclical worship of a group of staff members and other prolific writers (though the group are often one and the same) and their chosen theme or genre has occurred like clockwork since the late 00s. it has occurred when the website was still entrenched in its 4chan days and saying slurs was barely blinked at. it was still there back when staff was predominantly (or at least presumably) cis, white, and male. it was there when being gay was the butt of a joke and being trans was all but unthought of. it has always been there, and while the latest progressive policies and attitudes have had an effect on how the power is wielded, it has not changed the power itself. if the tides ever turn on the Terminally Online Woke ideology, staff will change with it and adapt their policies and ideologies to keep their power.

if anyone is to shoulder the blame for the creation of this pathology, it is the elitist attitude that has allowed a select few to be worshipped unquestionably. it is the power-hungry individuals who seek out fame and respect on a writing website and then use this fame and respect to treat others badly and their fear of a fall from grace to shelter others treating people worse. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who use their position to groom and sexually assault minors. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who keep it silent. as the severity of staff's secrets has increased, so has their attempts to silence dissent and reform at all costs.

the author agrees that this kind of religious think might lead to a cult in the future. the author says the cult will be a cult of vulnerability, but I disagree. I believe the cult is already there, and it is -- and always has been -- a cult of power.

#scp shenanigans #anon #asks

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gelatinocomics · 3 years

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"The Maud Couple” Is Good, Actually

[ID: Pinkie Pie, Maud, and Mudbriar stand outside in the daytime, looking at each other. Pinkie is smiling and talking with her hoof raised, while Maud and Mudbriar stare back blankly.]

In my experience, The Maud Couple (S8E3) is generally an unpopular episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic due to the introduction of the contentious character Mudbriar. It's understandably unpopular among the queer fans, who hate to see a shoehorned-in hetero relationship, and some neurodivergent fans who might take issue with Mudbriar's portrayal of autism.

These are legitimate grievances, but I think people don't give this episode a fair shake. I've put some thought into it, and I ended up taking a positive message away from this episode, even if it wasn’t the one intended by the writers. I'd like to delve into my feelings on the episode, which might help you better appreciate an underappreciated character.

[ID: Starlight Glimmer, wearing a mining helmet, smiles and looks behind her. In front of her there are large yellow, blue, and green gemstones embedded in a cave wall. Maud and Starlight’s reflection appears in every facet of the gemstones. Maud looks down as she talks.]

"Another reason I like rocks – they don't exclude you if you're... different than other ponies." (S7E4 Rock Solid Friendship)

Maud Pie is undeniably neurodivergent. Since her introduction, fans on the autism spectrum found lots of things to relate to: her lack of tone regulation in speech, her special interest, and her general difficulty in following the social rules that neurotypical people take for granted. In her first appearance, the Mane 6 found Maud difficult to understand, and none of them could get along well with her. The one thing they could agree upon was their love for Pinkie Pie. Pinkie grew up with Maud and they have an unbreakable bond. It’s a running joke in the show that while other characters struggle with Maud’s oddities, Pinkie finds nothing unusual about her.

The Maud Couple saw the introduction of Mudbriar, Maud’s boyfriend who she met offscreen. However, in his first scene, we don’t know his relation to Maud; he’s just an abrasive character that Pinkie can’t stand. Pinkie is shocked to discover that Maud would fall “in like” (Maud’s words describing her relationship with Mudbriar) with someone like him.

The irony of the situation is that Mudbriar is shown to be just like Maud. Maud says they have a lot in common, and they’re happiest when discussing their special interests. Later, Starlight (already established to be good friends with Maud) points out that Mudbriar sounds just like Maud, and Pinkie has trouble accepting that. The rest of the episode is about Pinkie learning to respect her sister’s love for Mudbriar, even if she can’t personally understand it.

[ID: Pinkie Pie wraps Maud and Mudbriar in a hug as they all sit together on a clifftop. The sun is setting behind them. Maud looks at Pinkie and smiles, while Mudbriar looks blankly at Pinkie.]

“Technically?! You’re right!”

Those are the facts of the episode. If Maud is such a popular character, why do so many fans have a bad reaction to Mudbriar? Is the episode wrong in portraying them as the same?

For starters, I think it’s notable that Mudbriar was not initially a sympathetic character in this episode. His first appearance has him severely aggravating Pinkie Pie, and the audience can easily sympathize with her. It’s a clever bit of writing that gives the audience the same exact struggle as Pinkie throughout the episode. The trouble is that many fans don’t feel satisfied by the end, and they can’t embrace Mudbriar the way Pinkie does.

Let’s take a look at Mudbriar’s behavior. Unlike Maud, he has a habit of correcting people over any little technicality. He brings the conversation to a halt when someone speaks with any ambiguity or inaccuracy, even something mundane that most would overlook as a normal and expected part of conversation. In fact, it seems to be his primary mode of communication. Like Maud, he doesn’t follow the typical rules of social interaction, which can make his conversations awkward and unpleasant.

Mudbriar’s behavior can be particularly off-putting to anyone who has experienced something like it. People who engage with internet communities have probably seen their fair share of pedantry-- an obsession with details that's frustrating to anyone trying to carry on a genuine conversation. I’ve seen Mudbriar’s behavior compared to “mansplaining” and Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory, a character often cited as poor autistic representation (I can’t comment on this since I haven’t seen the show). The neurodivergent audience might not appreciate seeing an autistic character portrayed as annoying and abrasive, since that’s not how autistic people want to be seen.

[ID: Mudbriar and Pinkie Pie are standing in Pinkie’s party cave, with piles and shelves of party supplies in the background. Pinkie aggressively pushes her snout in Mudbriar’s face and scowls at him. Mudbriar looks down at her with a slight grimace.]

Mudbriar isn’t easy to get along with.

I’ve been very careful to avoid describing Mudbriar’s behavior as arrogant or rude, as it might initially seem. There’s a reason for this: Mudbriar is well-intentioned and never does anything mean. Despite the way his correction habit might come across, he never says anything to imply that he thinks he’s superior. He doesn’t look down on anypony. He genuinely tries to be helpful. He never even reveals any dislike for Pinkie Pie. Whether you would describe him as polite or rude is pretty subjective, but you’d be hard-pressed to find any real evidence that he’s condescending. Watch the episode again with this in mind, and you may find that Mudbriar is a much more pleasant character than you thought.

It’s pretty clear that his conversational habit has nothing to do with a sense of superiority. It could be better described as a simple quirk. He might genuinely have difficulty reading ambiguity in conversation, so he needs to find clarity before proceeding. It’s unfortunate that this quirk makes him come across as unpleasant, not only to neurotypical people, but also to other neurodivergent people who can’t vibe with this style of communication. But at least he found somepony who understands.

[ID: Maud and Mudbriar are standing outside in the daytime. Maud smiles at Mudbriar, who is talking happily with his eyes closed.]

Maud has no issue with Mudbriar’s constant corrections. In fact, they’re happiest when correcting each other.

So what does this say about his autistic rep? Well, every autistic person will feel differently. We certainly won’t all be able to relate to Mudbriar’s specific portrayal. But I’m sure a lot of autistic people can relate to being misunderstood for the way we talk or emote, for people reading extra meaning into our manner of communication that just isn’t there. I won’t say MLP:FIM is the most progressive show when it comes to autistic rep; there’s plenty to be said about its neurotypical perspective, consistently treating its autistic characters as a narrative “other”. But there’s plenty to appreciate as well.

This is the message I took away from this episode: at times in your life, you’re always going to meet someone with an experience you can’t quite understand or relate to. You may even be unable to get along with them for whatever reason, and that’s fine. Just give them a fair chance to be themselves without assuming the worst. This is a message I’ve taken with me everywhere, not just for neurodivergence, but for every way that people can be different from one another.

Is this the message that the episode writers intended? It’s hard to say. Pinkie Pie gets a lesson from her sisters about how people can be like geodes, and where Pinkie only sees a crusty exterior, Maud might see a glittering gem. It could be as simple as that. And you could argue that the writers failed to endear the audience to Mudbriar by the end. If they did, would that serve the message better or undermine it?

The Maud Couple can be a challenging episode to enjoy, but I like a good challenge, and I ended up enjoying it more once I took the time to think about it. And if you’ve read this far, I’m hoping that even if you can’t enjoy Mudbriar that much, you can at least appreciate what he stands for.

[ID: Pinkie Pie and Mudbriar are standing over a table in Ponyville. There’s a log wrapped up in gift wrap between them. They are smiling and shaking hooves with each other.]

#my little pony #pinkie pie #maud pie #mudbriar #autism

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jack-is-lost · 3 years

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If you made your own, perfect, self indulgent film, or series, what would it be about, look like and what details would be essential?

Hmm, hard to say, really. I feel I’ve pondered over something similar in the past, which resorted to more fanfiction ideas, but I never delved too deep. Besides, what I might reply with now could evolve into an entirely different indulgent weeks, months, or a year from now. I’ll do my best to answer, though! Fair warning topics of death, and all that comes with it, are mentioned.

First, due to my unhealthy obsession, it would be supernatural-themed. Most likely a world where they are coexisting with humans, the average beings, but not exactly out publicly. I enjoy that world-building structure that, for the most part, humanity goes about their life unbeknownst that these ‘stories’ they’ve grown up with hold actual physical truth to them — not just metaphorical.

Another weakness of mine is taking a normal person and having them fall down this rabbit hole into the unknown. Preferably due to a life-altering situation. The reason the supernatural world reveals itself to the protagonist needs to be dire, blood pumping, and basically thrilling. I don’t mind the whole ‘I fell in love with so-and-so and now I’m apart of their world’, but I would avoid it being the pivotal point in my film/series.

Instead, it is a friend and the life-altering situation would be a near-death moment. These would be essential, the turning points and anchor. Perhaps, the protagonist was out hanging with a friend they’ve known all their life, through school (currently in high-school), and that night things uncontrollably go downhill. Many thoughts come to mind of how it would go down; car accident, being held at gunpoint while at a convenience store, a freak accident at a theme park. Something out of their hands that causes the friend to act or else death would occur. It is heated, no thought just action, and suddenly there are so many questions needing to be answered. So the protagonist starts to fall down that metaphorical hole into wonderland, but — like in so many already established films/shows — having a mortal being apart of their world is dangerous. Dangerous for them and the beings hidden within plain sight. Yes, what their friend did was heroic but also frowned upon by their own kind. Discussion of what to do with the protagonist is heavy on everyone’s mind. Change them? Wipe their memory? Kill them? Within days of having their eyes open to so much, enough time to have the confusion and fear evolve into wonderment, it is decided to repress their memories. Like a fish caught on a hook, the protagonist is tossed back to sea to blindly follow the current. What I’ve mentioned would be the first portion of a film or the first few episodes of the series. It builds up, allowing the audience to know there is more — to gain a taste of wanting to only be denied alongside the main character. To also dig emotionally deeper, said friend has to distance themself in fear of triggering memories. Something could cause those repressed life-changing moments to unravel, so they back off. Calls start to go unanswered, text messages are few and in-between, and physically hanging out just stops altogether. This makes the protagonist at first resentful, upset not knowing what they did wrong — if they did anything wrong. They simply shrug it off at one point, deciding that — like so many friendships often due, theirs is simply fading. So life goes on and a time skip occurs. It is the beginning of the build-up that leads to the middle of the film/series. The protagonist is older, perhaps in their late twenties to early thirties, and they’ve followed this path to become a Crime Scene/Homicide Investigator. Known as a specialist in their field and very dedicated to their work. As the movie/series builds up to that middle act, their world once again starts to ripple like a reflection on water. Especially as they are called to an unusual scene. It is gruesome, animalistic, limbs were strewn across the dark street. And, as they kneel down to pull back the tarp to have a good look at the victim, another investigator crouches beside them. Something is off by how this person’s gaze takes in the scene, how their voice mutters visual statements, and this familiar pull inside their own head. Our protagonist has this inkling feeling they’ve met before. It isn’t until their eyes meet that it dawns on them. Despite it being more than a decade with no contact, it is their friend right beside them. They are older, face harder. Somehow, without any influence on each other, they’ve walked the same career path. And, without purposefully meaning to, found themselves teaming up as districts overlap. Except for one crucial key; their friend has specialized in supernatural criminology. The scene before them is a hot mess that pulls two parties together to solve the case. Creatures and humans equally killing and being murdered. This is where a love interest would slowly build-up — the faintest of possibilities, as they focus on solving what could be the biggest serial killer case ever. Foggy memories do start to surface, but they are old and blurry childhood moments. They could easily be deluded by watching too many horror movies, and that is how the protagonist reasons it. Yet, the further they work this job together, the more the main character has to know. The more they need to seek answers and start to avidly search between the cracks. A huge “I knew it!” moment would occur when they come face to face with the serial killer. Who is, indeed, a supernatural creature. However, being older and more trained, the protagonist doesn’t falter in the midst of a fight sequence. They might exclaim it, joke with their temporary partner on the case, but their finger is still hovering over the trigger — their gaze on the killer. Thus, this is the ‘climax’ of the story — the reveal and blood-pumping action. And, as the main character humanly try to go up against a real-life brutal monster, our protagonist is severely injured. Except now the friend/partner wasn’t there to deflect the final blow. The battle is still going as the protagonist lays upon the ground, bleeding out and fighting to breathe. That is where we see a flashback to the first incident, back to the beginning of the show/film. Their vision is a clouded memory as they blindly look up to the weathered ceiling. The pain is fading to the point they let out one of those dry chuckles while thinking fate is cruel. That they are apart of something like Final Destination to where they probably should have died back then, and now fate is rearing its ugly mug at them again. Their friend rushes to their side, the battle over, and the main character missing the ending. It isn’t though they could care much about that for their world is fading, their life leaking out of them with every slow pulse. The friend asks them then, disregarding rules and regulations, and ask if they don’t want to die. They need permission, consent, but the response is slurred and broken. Did they want whatever their friend was truly asking of them? To be a monster? They can feel the friend’s grasp within theirs, stronger than their own returning squeeze. The darkness is starting to crawl, starting to swallow their vision, and they stare up at the being who they were beginning to love all over again — more than a friend in this second chance gifted to them, and they smile. They don’t nod or shake their head. They don’t whisper an answer, but instead, allow the grim reaper to do its job. For if they were meant for the world hidden by plain sight, they would have been born for it. The ending of this show is remorseful, no doubt. We have this heroic symbol as the funeral plays out. The friend, the blossoming love interest, being the last one to lay a flower upon the grave. Now we see it from their perspective, the loss and grief. Loss of having to stop being friends, the enjoyment of meeting up again and playing a major role in their life, to the grief of losing them so soon. It would end on this sad note because it is how life works, and I’d want to solidify the hard realities within the wonderment. Yet, if a second season or a sequel were to happen, it would be through their gaze. How they deal with it and move forward, and how they find companionship again many, many years down the line. Especially when another supernatural creature has this light in their eyes when they smile a certain familiar way. They are new on the job and being saddled up with them to get field experience, nothing unusual. However, the way they laugh — how they freely speak their mind, reminds them of someone else and a part of them wonders deep down that maybe, just maybe, fate isn’t as heartless as it seemed. It really feels like their friend is right there beside them as they fall back into the fray of solving homicide cases.

#ask and you shall receive #my writing #supernatural topics #story idea #tw: death

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mediaevalmusereads · 3 years

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Strange the Dreamer. By Laini Taylor. New York: Little, Brown Books, 2017.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: YA fantasy

Part of a Series? Yes, Strange the Dreamer #1

Summary: The dream chooses the dreamer, not the other way around— and Lazlo Strange, war orphan and junior librarian, has always feared that his dream chose poorly. Since he was five years old he’s been obsessed with the mythic lost city of Weep, but it would take someone bolder than he to cross half the world in search of it. Then a stunning opportunity presents itself, in the person of a hero called the Godslayer and a band of legendary warriors, and he has to seize his chance or lose his dream forever. What happened in Weep two hundred years ago to cut it off from the rest of the world? What exactly did the Godslayer slay that went by the name of god? And what is the mysterious problem he now seeks help in solving? The answers await in Weep, but so do more mysteries—including the blue-skinned goddess who appears in Lazlo’s dreams. How did he dream her before he knew she existed? And if all the gods are dead, why does she seem so real?

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: blood, violence, drug use, rape, sexual slavery, abduction and imprisonment

Overview: I really enjoyed Laini Taylor’s Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy, so I decided to give her new work a go. Overall, I also really enjoyed Strange the Dreamer because it had a lot of things that are characteristic of Taylor’s writing that I love - lush, lyrical prose; tragic, star-crossed love; a political conflict involving otherworldly creatures. The reason why I’m giving this book 4 instead of 5 stars mainly has to do with the pacing and the way events played out. There wasn’t anything wrong, I think, with the way Taylor handled her story - it’s just that I felt like things started to rush to a close too quickly, and I would have liked to spend more time in the book exploring character emotions.

Writing: Taylor’s prose tends to fall into two categories: lyrical and descriptive or straight-forward and economical. Part 1 of this book is more lyrical; the metaphors are more fantastical and the prose evokes a sense of longing and fascination. Taylor really captures the feeling of being immersed in a library, surrounded by stories, as well as what it’s like to have a dream (not a dream in your sleep - more like a goal or a wish that has a small or nonexistence likelihood of coming true). Part 1 was probably my favorite part of the book for this reason, as subsequent sections tended to lose that lyrical quality and fall into a style more typical of YA books.

Taylor’s pace is also fairly well-done in that I didn’t feel like I was being rushed or that I was plodding through the book. The only thing I would change in terms of pacing is the book’s ending; I felt a lot of things were dropped on the reader all at once, and though they were foreshadowed earlier in the book (which I very much appreciated), I tend not to like endings where too much happens.

Before I close this section, a couple of notes on descriptions and worldbuilding: though I know teenagers have sexual urges, I was a little put off by the descriptions of teenagers’ bodies in certain places. I can remember a few instances where Taylor describes the look of one character’s breasts, and though it wasn’t gratuitous, I didn’t like that these descriptions were included. I also thought the worldbuilding detail of “women get tattoos on their bellies as a rite of passage/coming of age marker when they become fertile and Sarai longs for one of her own” was a little uncomfortable. It made me feel like the world Taylor built was concerned with showcasing female reproductive capacity, and that just seems exclusionary. While it could have worked if the story was more about pushing back against reproductive regulation or exploring what such tattoos would mean for trans characters, as the book stands, that doesn’t really happen, so it was a weird detail that I felt distracted from the main themes.

Plot: This book primarily follows Lazlo Strange - an orphan who dreams of finding the lost city of Weep - and Sarai - the daughter of a dead god and a human who must hide her existence in order to stay alive. Lazlo is surprised one day when some inhabitants of Weep - led by someone called “the Godslayer” - show up in his library, asking for assistance from the land’s greatest scientists. Though Lazlo isn’t a scientist, he is the most knowledgeable person about Weep and its culture, so the Godslayer elects to take him along. Meanwhile, Sarai and several other demigods live in a secluded Sanctuary, hiding from the inhabitants of Weep so that they won’t be slain on account of their parentage.

Without spoiling anything (which is kind of hard, since there is a lot that happens), I will say that I really liked the central conflict of this book. Taylor does a good job of setting up a problem with no black-and-white solutions; it seems like everyone had a legitimate reason for acting the way they do, and no matter what happens, someone will be hurt.

But perhaps the thing I appreciated most about the plot was that Taylor never sets up a surprise twist that comes out of nowhere. I feel like I’ve read a lot of YA books that drop a bomb on the reader with no set up, and I personally feel like such twists make the story feel less cohesive. Taylor sets up all her reveals and twists by dropping hints early and frequently, and rather than make the story feel dull, I felt like they made the end emotionally fulfilling.

If I had one criticism of the plot it would be that the romance doesn’t feel genuine. Lazlo and Sarai seem to fall in love with each other too quickly, which made it seem like they got together because they just hadn’t had opportunities to meet other people. I didn’t see what they saw in each other aside from looks and special qualities like “oh, he’s able to share my dreams” or “she was kind to me when so many other people weren’t.” I wanted more out the romance, like Sarai falling for Lazlo’s kindness and Lazlo falling for Sarai’s compassion towards those who would harm her. Maybe there was some of that, but it was definitely overshadowed by lengthy descriptions of kissing, which I wasn’t much a fan of. I also wasn’t really a fan of the “dates” that they went on; some parts were cute, but overall, they dragged.

Characters: Lazlo, one of our protagonists, is likeable in that he’s pretty much the embodiment of a lot of book nerds. He starts off shy, completely absorbed with fairy tales and folklore, and loves to roam the abandoned stacks in his library. What I liked most about him, though, was his willingness to help people even if they treat him poorly. For example, there’s a character named Theryn Nero who is basically a Science Bro. He’s rich, beloved by everyone, and gets famous for cracking the secret of alchemy. While he puts himself up as the lone genius, he was actually aided by Lazlo and takes sole credit for a lot of things that Lazlo proved to be key in discovering. Lazlo, though annoyed, never lets his feelings get in the way of helping Nero when the greater good is at stake, and I really admired that.

If I had any criticisms of Lazlo, it would be that I wish his “dreamer” status or knowledge base was put to better use. After Lazlo gets to Weep, he isn’t quite as interesting as he was before, probably because he no longer needs to use his vast knowledge of stories to make his way through the world.

Sarai, our other protagonist, is fairly sympathetic in that all her problems feel undeserved. She is forced to stay locked away in a hidden Sanctuary in order to protect herself and her little found family (composed of other demigods), and though it’s for the best, it also feels stifling. I really liked that Sarai was not single-mindedly fixated on revenge for the things that happened in her past. Without spoiling anything, I will say that something happened which put the demigods and inhabitants of Weep in conflict with one another, and there is no easy solution that would guarantee that the demigods stay alive. Sarai has a lot of dreams like Lazlo - of finding family, of living a normal life, of living among the humans - but it’s not really viable for her, and instead of letting hate consume her, she tries to think up other ways of existing.

Sarai’s “family” is also charming. The group consists of 5 demigods who are the last remaining offspring of the slain gods, and all of them feel fairly complex. They all possess some kind of magical “gift”: there’s Sarai (who can produce supernatural “moths” that allow her to enter people’s dreams), Ruby (a girl who can turn herself into flames), Feral (the only boy, and he can summon clouds), Sparrow (a girl who can manipulate plants), and Minya (a girl who can make ghosts do her bidding). I liked that these characters had different personalities that often put them in conflict. Ruby is boy-crazy and seems to be obsessed with sex. Sparrow is more passive but has sweet moments where she makes a “flower cake” for Ruby’s birthday and braids Sarai’s hair. Minya is completely consumed by her desire for revenge, and it presents some real barriers to finding a solution to the group’s problems.

The supporting characters down in Weep are also fairly compelling. The Godslayer is sympathetic in that he doesn’t revel in his heroic image or title; instead, he feels complex and seemingly warring emotions tied to guilt over what happened to Weep and his role in it almost 20 years prior to the events of this book. The Godslayer’s companions are also sympathetic and have emotions that are easy to understand, and I loved that they seemed to take to Lazlo so quickly. They welcome all outsiders with open arms, but they have a soft spot for Lazlo, which I liked because it meant that he didn’t have to face bullying or gatekeeping from people he had longed to meet his entire life.

The inhabitants of the world outside of Weep were interesting. There’s Theryn Nero, who seemed like he would be a primary antagonist but doesn’t have enough “screen time” to truly be a threat. I liked that his conflict with Lazlo was low-key - it was intense enough to be annoying, but no so intense that their rivalry consumed the whole story or put petty emotions above the greater good. The other “scientists” who follow the Godslayer back to Weep served their purpose; not all of them had rich, complex lives, but they didn’t really need to because if they did, the story would feel crowded.

Overall, there weren’t any characters I disliked, per se. While I do wish Lazlo got to develop differently, there wasn’t much wrong with his character, and I think all of the main players had interesting backstories and motivations, and I appreciated the layer of complexity they all had. I do wish there had been more queer characters though. There is one wlw couple, though they aren’t too prominent in the grand scheme of things. Of course, that could change, as there is a whole second book to go through, but I wish some of the demigods had been lgbt+ so it felt like Taylor’s world wasn’t overwhelmingly straight and cis.

TL;DR: Despite some pacing problems at the end and minor details that didn’t fit my personal tastes, Strange the Dreamer is a lush, evocative fantasy about the power of dreams. Readers who enjoy epic fantasy and stories about gods, star-crossed love, and will probably adore this book.

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crimeronan · 4 years

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i wanna hear more about your headcanon of declan as autistic (no pressure! only if u want to)

oh ariana we’re really in it now

not all of these bullet points are specifically related to autism bc this just turned into a post about how fond i am of declan. however. autistic declan lynch rights here we go

speech

declanisms

really, keeping a list of action-based conversation starters to meet your goals that all sound like something a caricature of a high-level business executive would say... honey

memorizing clever turns of phrase and the cadence of storytelling

and refusing to ever use this love of language in public lest it make him vulnerable or ruin anything he’s built

having practiced regulating his vocal tone and inflection to make them both as normal and as free of personality as possible

being unable to modulate his vocal tone and inflection when he’s Not actively concentrating on regulating them - speaking impulsively from a place of upset, getting excited about things, etc

physicality

having also practiced his physicality to appear as unthreatening and unobtrusive as possible

mirroring strangers, casual acquaintances, criminal associates

actively schooling himself not to talk with his hands; natural storytelling comes with gesturing and physical involvement

having pleasant conversations and being pleasant to exist around while managing to have absolutely no friends

anxious stomachaches

nervous tics

refusing to allow himself comfortable clothing or a comfortable living space despite seeming to want these things

deciding he can have nice shoes, as a treat (doesn’t have anything to do with neurodivergence i just think it’s cute)

internal emotions

Everything Is Horrible, All The Time, But That’s Fine Because That’s Just How Life Is For Me And I’ve Accepted It

deeply unhappy, deeply bored, deeply exhausted, deeply terrified

given up on dreams and ambitions because they will never be accessible to someone like him (one of those things that in-narrative isn’t autism-related, but sure can be a hashtag relatable feel)

happiness, excitement, joy, any positive emotions are all “dangerous” because they represent a loss of control

zero to one hundred IMMEDIATELY in terms of anger, manic excitement, terror, misery, self-flagellation

constantly self-regulating, compartmentalizing, putting aside, and refusing to act on emotions despite feeling Incredibly Deeply

anxiety

obsessing, catastrophizing, making contingency plans, exploring bad outcomes, regretting past actions literally every single second of every day

aforementioned physical anxiety manifestations

resigned to ronan and matthew’s eventual deaths even when things are Mostly Okay

convinced that if and when something happens to ronan or matthew, it will be his fault

none of these things are autism-related specifically, there’s just something in his repetitive thoughts / methods of self-soothing / ways of internalizing trauma that's..... a feeling

child development

one of those kids who would have been called “precocious”

had developed a system for watching/protecting ronan and trying to convince ronan not to dream things by age five

specific interests in things deemed uninteresting or unimportant

didn’t engage in the same play behavior most kids his age would

got overwhelmed and cried over liking a gift too much

consciously aware of niall’s disdain for him, aurora’s ephemeral nature, and ronan’s dangerousness to himself at age five

some of these things are definitely exacerbated or fully caused by a childhood of emotional neglect and endangerment; autism reading integrates with this rather than replacing it. i strongly feel declan would still have been a “precocious” child with a healthy happy parental upbringing as well

sense of responsibility

extremely stressed by any situation he can’t control

will attempt to control situations beyond his jurisdiction to minimize this

studies so many parenting books after technically becoming ronan and matthew’s caretaker because he has no frame of reference for parenting and does not trust his instincts

“if you want something done right, do it yourself” a life motto by declan lynch

“everything is my fault, all the time” a life motto by declan lynch

“except when it’s dad’s or ronan’s fault” a pretty fair addendum by declan lynch

mental stimulation

so unbelievably bored with his life situation

THRILLED any time he gets to play games or engage in clever conversation - seen a little in his “crime makes me feel alive” vibes, his back-and-forth banter with jordan

won’t let himself get engaged in things because passion feels unsafe

enjoys himself for about one hour of one single night and then immediately starts cracking to pieces about how living in a constant state of mental dissatisfaction is killing him slowly

somehow manages to be surprised by this turn of events

interests

he hides art he loves in a murder attic like a feral cat who refuses to eat in front of people. i don’t even need to get into this

absolutely immediately enchanted to the point of self-labeled stupidity by watching jordan paint

infodumping about art history

trading art interests with jordan bc he’s legitimately interested and excited by what she knows and feels passionate about

this entire post should just be the murder attic. declan oh my fucking god

aforementioned collecting of language he likes

the whole tyrian purple thing. again. declan oh my fucking god

emotional intimacy

craves emotional intimacy but is TERRIFIED of being known and/or being rejected

is convinced he can never and will never have emotional intimacy in his life

has all the stamina of a wet tissue in terms of keeping his emotional secrets when jordan cottons onto them

gets annoyed by relationships with people who want emotional connection but continues playacting through the motions of said relationships in the hopes of being less lonely

comforting people / expressing genuine care

declan attempted to dispense comfort. “everybody dies, matthew”

i have to put attempted to dispense comfort on the list again. oh my god. to declan’s brain, emotional comfort is a vending machine that’s eaten ten dollars in a row and is now falling on him after he made the mistake of shaking it

declan regretted saying anything. [immediately says the worst thing possible]

write your routine, ronan. now. now. write it. write it down. (because i’m worried you’re going to kill yourself but have no idea how to say that so i have to focus on concrete action.)

every time he’s tried to say “i’m worried about you” and instead gone “why are you inconveniencing me this way.” king

having no sense of how to communicate feelings or solve emotional conflicts through talking despite attempting to do these things frequently, AFTER STUDYING OUT OF BOOKS, to his detriment

preferring to take care of people silently and subtly through protecting them and making things easier for them, extremely similarly to how ronan does

irritability

constantly in a low level fugue state of annoyance

runs on caffeine and fumes

very thin patience for anyone else’s inability to stick to plans, manage time, regulate emotion, do their jobs, follow through on commitments, etc

the unceasing “i’m not unhappy. i’m not unhappy. i’m not unhappy” while at work screams of “i am in sensory/emotional hell all the time and checking slightly out of this plane to deal”

loses control all at once, when he does lose control

drains energy like a broken cellphone battery from the effort of combating misery, anxiety, mental overload, boredom, masking all thoughts and feelings

bonus content: parents

the actual in-universe reasons for these things aren’t related to neurodivergence as far as we know, but

growing up as the unfavored child whose interests are constantly ignored or shut down

seeing your siblings get preferential treatment for no reason

being silenced or punished every time you express dissatisfaction or unhappiness or anger

being considered disposable

internalizing the idea that you’re a burden unless you’re worth something to others

that’s a real common lived realty for autistic ppl

bonus content: brothers

i read all three lynch brothers as being on the spectrum and all having different experiences with it

i read matthew as having had the inverse experience of declan, in which he flaps and stims and chews loudly and talks a mile a minute and expresses himself with excitement and passion and bouncing

& he has Not been punished for it or made to feel like it should be hidden

declan’s ferocious protectiveness of matthew is in many ways bc he wants to keep matthew from suffering the same way he has

differing autism spectrum experiences fit neatly into that

ronan and declan’s experiences are in some ways wildly different

in other ways, though

going zero to one hundred on the emotional spectrum, defaulting to anger to avoid fully feeling internal chaos, being unable to understand the other’s feelings or thought processes / making wildly incorrect conclusions about them, preferring to show feelings through action rather than words, struggling to translate genuine emotion into expression without coming across as a dick

they are Very Similar

declan and ronan do a lot of “dog growls at its own reflection” about this because neither of them is more furious than when they see their own perceived shortcomings in the other

i’m positive i’ve forgotten some things and also positive i have not communicated all of these thoughts as effectively as i would like but i have been typing this post for a thousand years. here you go

#trc #cdth #declan lynch #i love my idiot son #suicide m #ableism -#Anonymous

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blushnote · 5 years

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at the altar | m.

⟡ word count: 7,000. ⟡ genre: smut. ⟡ contains: lots of religious lexicon, masurbation, pornography, degradation, fucking in the church, a breeding kink, spitting, choking, a slight fantasy theme.

summary: a dystopian future in which obligation to the church is indispensable in preserving society. joshua knows there is danger in straying from the enforced orthodoxy of the clergy, but cannot help in wondering how different his life would be if for once in indulged in sin rather than purity.

a/n: um. yeah. so this happened. a surge of spontaneity hit me and i was able to write this idea. i’m still wondering why i put myself through this.

it feels far too early and joshua is much too tired as he rises from his pew, honouring the arrival of his church’s reverend as he takes the slowest possible steps down the alley. the reverend is old. it shows in the lump bulging from his back and his wrinkled skin that appears to have the texture of sundried fruits. a few select spindles of thinned, wispy white hair cling to his head, and joshua wonders if the two clergy members walking cautiously behind the reverend are actually there to catch him if his hip gives out.

joshua suppresses a gigantic yawn, his eyes brimming with water while he clasps his hands together respectfully. there is a choir aligned in neat rows at the very front of the church, dressed in white gowns that float just above the ankle with thick, gold sashes drooping from every shoulder.

he has his own gown hanging up in his closet. it is obligatory after all.

in an angelic, almost disquieting tone that echoes up into the high ceilings, it’s some rendition of ‘peace is flowing like a river’, to which joshua has heard so many times he could sing it all in his sleep. he feels like he knows more songs of worship than he does numbers or letters, and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing. the reverend begins shuffling past joshua’s pew. when he looks at the old, shrunken man, joshua is reminded of how tired he is. an abstract thought suddenly flies into his mind.

how close is this guy to death?

joshua knows it’s a fairly morbid question to ponder in the middle of morning service, but he can’t help it, and he’s intrigued to know if anyone else among the masses shares his introspection. he’s not disturbed at the idea of death, and he assumes it’s due to his faith, that there just might be a place for him somewhere when his physical body is no longer an appropriate shell. the thing is, he’s not having much fun. his faith is strict and if joshua wants to have a certified place at heaven’s gate, then he has to live accordingly.

no sex until marriage, no drugs, no alcoholic consumption apart from the blood of the saviour, all these intense restrictions just to sit pretty in the afterlife. some regulations don’t really bother him – the drugs for example – joshua doesn’t suspect he’ll be imploring anyone for a shot of heroin or a little ziplock baggie filled with cocaine in the near future. still, he does muse over some regulations because they seem too instinctual, too absurd to deny, like saying a baby is not permitted to drinks its mother’s milk.

joshua recalls a certain incident from when he was a teenager. he was staying the night at his friend’s house, and the whole day his friend had been irritably insisting that he had something to show joshua, except he couldn’t even give him the slightest hint of what it was until everyone in the house had surely gone to sleep. joshua sat at the edge of the bed, staring at his friend’s laptop while he chuckled, pulling up a raunchy looking website that had probably just embedded a hundred viruses into his computer.

‘watch this,’ his friend said smugly before tapping on a clip. joshua remembered it was a girl sitting on the floor, her cheeks faintly smeared with rouge makeup, loose curls of hair tumbling before her eyes as a hand moved beneath her shorts, her wrist sharply twisting. her moans leaked through the quiet volume alongside incoherent breaths about how good she felt. suddenly, she reached for her blouse that was tight around the chest, taking the buttons between her fingers and popping each one open.

the pornography had no effect on joshua, though his friend was evidently obsessed.

funny thing was, only a week later joshua witnessed him get shipped away to the rehabilitation board, his parents notoriously repeating the same damn story when weekly service came around, how ‘he just has some bad habits, nothing that cannot be cured through the guidance of our reverends at the oligarchy.’ initially, joshua was proud of himself, he believed the fortitude of his virtues had allowed him to not succumb to pornography and its unholy temptation, despite the carnal urge being completely natural.

but that was the thing, it’s natural.

the first time joshua ever had a wet dream, it was about that girl from the porn site. he slammed awake, drenched in a cold sweat, his chest heaving as though he’d just ran the five kilometer. the room was pitch black apart from blue moonlight percolating slightly through the sheer curtains, and even though he knew he was alone, he squinted into the darkness disconcertedly, petrified that someone had seen him awaken from such an obscure dream and was writing up his slip for the rehabilitation board.

no, joshua didn’t spend his time fumbling over the inevitability of death.

instead, he contemplated this unyielding piousness he had for the church, how he had probably wasted the most adventurous years of his life learning hymns and prayers. as the reverend finally got to his place behind the altar, his dry, chalky voice barely whispering to the farthest pew, overwhelming concoctions of ancient perfumes started tickling joshua’s nose, the slight claustrophobia of being packed into these ridiculously uncomfortable pews making him nauseous.

joshua then realized this wasn’t how he wanted to live.

yet he wasn’t strong enough to stray from this path he had known his whole life. he required some form of corruption, though joshua had no idea what this corruption would be.

the first time joshua sees you, his heart starts to race, and he contracts this feeling unlike any other.

you arrive at the empty spot belonging to the pew in front of him as the attendants slowly begin to trickle in. he can hardly believe his eyes. you’re a new body to the church, vivacious and sophisticated, youth agleam in the whorls of your slightly rugged skin. he’s not accustomed to seeing women in a place of worship looking so bare. joshua doesn’t believe there is a spot of concealer on your face. he can see the shallow rings beneath your eyes and the plump, morning swollenness wearing upon your cheeks. a gentle pink lipstick is translucent through a sparkling gloss on your lips, and you smell somewhat like rain.

long, lace sleeves cover your arms, even your neck is shielded by an uncomfortable looking collar, though joshua notes that unlike the popular dresses he sees gathering in clumps of white around the church, yours is cut short – literally, it’s been cut all the way up to just above the mid-thigh when it should be floating at your knees. joshua was raised not to stare, so he doesn’t, rather he takes fleeting glimpses of how the white lace hugs your torso before flaring at the hips. the way the skirt bounces at your legs, just shy of riding a little too far up, has his heart booming in his chest.

but then something happens.

you’re holding a pamphlet imprinted with guidelines concerning the morning mass, cues and prayers and paroles occupying the pages, often picked up by newcomers at the entryway. however, the pamphlet suddenly slips from your hands and hits the floor. almost immediately you bend over to retrieve it, and joshua can’t look away fast enough. he sees it, a flash of your tiny, black thong. he starts panicking as this ravenous flame engulfs his face. in a nervous tick, joshua swallows thickly and stands from his seat, but then he realizes he has nowhere to go and sits back down, raking a hand through his hair.

“excuse me,” a pleasant voice coos to him, to which joshua realizes you have turned around in your pew to stare directly at him. licking your lips, you ask, “how early do people usually arrive here?”

joshua coolly pretends as though he didn’t just see beneath your dress and pits an inference, “the most devoted don’t show up until 9:30-ish.”

“really?” you sound surprised, your eyebrows jumping. “so there’s lots of time then.”

he’s unsure if you’re still talking to him as you stare into space. quite frankly he’s confused at what you mean. time for what? he has no idea.

“you are allowed to come in even when service has already started. some people just observe respectfully at the back if there are no seats.” he adds anyways.

your eyes flicker back to him, and your pink-tinted lips curl in a soft smile. “well, they have no choice. is service not obligatory?” you turn to momentarily gaze at the choir organizing themselves at the front of the church, continuing with, “everyone has one of those gowns, don’t they? with the perfect little sashes that make them feel so virtuous and whole and part of something they believe is a choice.”

joshua blinks. for a moment, time is frozen. he knows you’re right, it’s just so inexplicably bizarre to hear his clandestine thoughts echoed through the lips of a stranger. he clears his throat.

“yeah, everything about the church is obligatory, and you get sent to the rehabilitation board if you have anything to say about it…” he looks at you transiently, “or if you’re a real big sinner.”

flipping through the pamphlet without even gleaning anything from the pages, you snort in laughter before smacking it down beside you on the pew. then, you glance at him again, and joshua reads a naughty shimmer in your eyes. he knows you don’t give a lick about what he just said.

“you wanna know something?” you lean a little closer over the back of the pew, your voice lowering.

joshua swallows again, his hands crushing bits of lint in his pant pockets. he nods, his pulse thrumming violently, even at the vein in his neck.

“do you see that girl in the choir? at the far right side of the front row?”

he followed her subtle pointing finger.

“are you talking about august?” joshua questions, to which you agree.

joshua had known august since first grade.

her reputation was ‘purer than snow and sweeter than candy’ as described by the reverend himself. she had a beautiful voice, one that sets you in a trance, like being in the depths of underwater and watching sunlight cut through the stillness. the same friend that showed joshua the pornography had a massive crush on her in his high school years, but he let his emotions wither away hopelessly, claiming she would never be game for anything his obscenely filthy mind could contrive.

“i used to be her best friend,” you whispered, “she was a real riot. she’d steal bottles of wine from her parents liquor cabinet and we’d go into the woods to get drunk. they never suspected a thing ‘cause they only drink on holidays. i swear too, she’s blowed at least four guys on the huskey basketball team.”

oh, joshua thought. maybe his friend would have actually had a chance.

“that’s different than i remember.” nonetheless, he defended august poorly.

“you don’t have to believe me,” you responded, “just that some people aren’t who you think they are.”

joshua pricked his bottom lip with his teeth.

“what about you then?”

shifting slightly in your seat, you feigned obliviousness with a harmless grin, “what about me?”

“i mean, what should i assume about you?”

the distant reverberation of the organ suddenly flooded the room, signaling that service would be starting shortly, leaving in its deep but harmonious wake an irreplaceable feeling of sacredness. just before you turned around completely in your seat to gauge the altar, or the glowing, enormous stained glass portrait at the front of the church, you smirked at joshua.

“well, i already know what you’ve assumed about me,” you stated matter-of-factly, “that i’m a whore.”

joshua felt an intense heat prickle across the arches of his cheeks. your blatancy threw him off his axis. he hadn’t thought that exact word, but he could not deny he suspected you to live promiscuously.

“honestly,” you shrugged, “you’re not wrong.”

it’s late, around eleven thirty, and the air in joshua’s bedroom is hot and almost palpably sticky. he lies on his stomach in bed, his arms shoved beneath a cool pillow while he blinks into the thick darkness. his eyelids feel heavy but they refuse to close. it’s simply a restless night, and joshua comes to reluctantly accept this as he sits up with the blankets pooling around his hips. he takes the bottom hem of his shirt and peels it above his head, throwing it impetuously into some corner he can’t even see.

joshua muses over a distant lesson taught by the reverend when he was a little boy, attending the sunday mass alongside his faith-mottled parents who had raised joshua with scrupulous religiousness. he stands at the very front pew, watching with rounded, glistering eyes as the reverend provides a cautionary tale from behind his marbled altar. he speaks of temptation, its numerous, intently deceitful forms that skulk near the edges of one’s vulnerability, waiting to attach itself like a leech.

‘temptation is a mere embodiment of sin, and sin is a creation that has risen from the underworld. our desires cannot be silenced, but they can be overcome, as proven beneath the guidance of a patient hand.’

he’s too young to grasp the reverend’s teachings. what joshua retains is that sin is bad, sin is the devil, and to be protected from his manipulation, you must build an unshakeable devotion. the reverend continued in his monotone tales and the adults ate up his every word. what joshua found interesting from that particular mass was the reverend’s warning of fallen angels.

‘they walk among us. each of you has one. maybe they are not visible to you, but they linger, they mercilessly tempt, they plant inside of you desires that you may struggle to diminish. and if one day, you feel that you have witnessed your fallen angel face to face, then know that you have been confronted with the greatest possible test of your commitment to the church. do not lose sight of your devotion. hold swift to the healing you have received from your reverends. the life they tease you with is erroneous.’

the air is persistently warm against the slope of his back as he returns to laying on his stomach, but it’s not as compressing, and his honeyed skin seems to be able to breathe a little easier. while his mind is spinning in a whirlwind of miscellaneous thought, joshua notes that you make a bold presence among the chaos, and suddenly he’s imagining your scent, mild like spring rainwater and rose petals. then he pictures the sheen of your smooth, soft mouth, how your eyes glinted when you spoke.

joshua presses his cheek deeper into the pillow. a dangerous type of sensation is melting in his lower abdomen and prickling like a sunburn up his shoulders, yet he has no idea how to soothe it. he thinks of the wet dream he had all those years ago. if anyone even had the slightest clue he watched pornography and had been tainted by the poison of its repercussions, then he’d be sent off to the rehabilitation board just like his old friend. and if joshua knew anything about the board, it was that he never wanted to go.

despite the looming terror of such a dreadful place, it was not puissant enough to deter his racing mind, and joshua felt his heart pump sporadically against the mattress as he thought of that salacious clip in which the girl had been touching herself. but he doesn’t see her face or her clothes, he doesn’t hear her breathless voice or her whispered curses. instead, joshua envisions you in her position, your hand sliding slowly down your stomach until it slips beneath that pretty, black thong and you’re fingering yourself.

he grits his teeth. joshua knows in each of his cells what he is visualizing is wrong, it’s demonstration of sin and submission to lust. he knows through his commitment to the church that he is betraying his reverence and severing inch by inch the purity he was taught to preserve. but the ache that rushes to his stomach is a feeling far too sweet. he can’t stop thinking about you. further poisoning himself, joshua shuts his eyes and listens intently for your moans, the sound of your slick as you sink in your digits.

now, it’s a hopeless situation.

joshua grabs his pillow and stuffs it below him. his tongue pokes slightly from his cotton pink mouth as he then rustles his shorts down, just until there’s enough room for him to free his length. the second he takes himself into his hand, feels how heavy and hard he’s become in such a short time, joshua just shakes his head. the mantra is stuck in his head, he knows what he’s doing is wrong, but at this point he’s willing to sacrifice a piece of his faith just to indulge in his lust. his body lowers back to the bed, and a soft gasp trembles at his lips once his sensitive, throbbing cock rubs against the plump pillow.

painfully, slowly, joshua begins to construct a rhythm. his elbows dig into the mattress while he makes gentle ruts into the fabric, the head of his member flushed a dark, amethyst purple, beading with come. his bangs stick to his eyes, his black hair a shaggy, unkempt mess, though joshua is too concentrated on the pleasure that aches at his core to even ponder brushing the strands away. he feels so vulnerable, so filthy and stained by sin as he spreads his legs wider to accommodate more of the pillow.

a burn resides in his biceps from holding himself up, but joshua manages to ignore it, clamping down harshly on the malleable inside of his cheek. he thrusts his hips at a much deeper interval, taking his time as his cock presses into the soft material and his jaw unhinges to release a shameful, stuttered moan. it feels so stupidly good that he can’t restrict himself – joshua moves his hips faster, humping the pillow eagerly while his skin begins to glisten in the sweltering heat of the bedroom.

“f-ffuck, oh fuck, f-feels so g-ggood,—,” he whimpers with blooming desire, allowing his chest to collapse flush against the mattress, instead shoving his hands beneath the blanket to hold the pillow steady.

his teeth sink into a full bottom lip, pricking down with enough force to potentially summon tiny bulbs of blood. joshua’s hair is matted and slightly curled before his eyes while his cheek rubs against a thin linen sheet. though it’s impossible to see in the swathing darkness, his face is a beautiful, glowing shade of fuchsia and suddenly he can’t seem to keep his pretty mouth shut as he ruts desperately into the pillow. the worst part is that he’s overcome with the urge to moan your name, but he doesn’t even know it.

joshua practically cries hot, thick tears as the euphoria of his orgasm surges through his veins. his knuckles are paler than snowflakes, his fists grasping with an ironclad strength at the pillow while his cock jerks and spasms under the intensity of the pleasure. he’s incredibly sensitive, his skin is feeling enflamed, his heart pumps uncontrollably, and yet joshua won’t stop fucking against the pillow in an attempt to milk as much of his come as possible. everything is sticky and messy and the heat is tangible.

shakily, joshua pulls an arm free from the blankets and leans on his elbow, his other hand gingerly wrapping just below the head of his cock to squeeze out the last pearls of his come.

“s-shit,” he rasps and winces in sensitivity, especially as he draws a careful thumb over his swollen tip and pushes downward. somehow, the pain feels good. it thrums throughout his flesh and gifts him this electric sensation. joshua bites his lip as his warm seed spurts onto his thumb. he’s not short of utterly immoral thought, and imagines smearing your pink-stained lips with his come, your eyes fluttering up at him before your tongue licks it up gratefully and you beg him to fill your throat next time.

joshua knows he should put forth an effort to clean himself, but for the time being, he just can’t.

and in the afterglow of his orgasm, he goes back to bed.

joshua sighs as he comes to a halt in the middle of the aisle, staring up at the stained glass portrait that is brought to life through the warmth of morning sunlight. different shades gleam at him, from the scarlet reds to the cream, waxen whites and sapphires. he doesn’t feel at ease like he usually does upon observing the glass portrait. joshua chalks it up to his betrayal of purity. however, as filthy as the transgression was, as much as should yearn to seek atonement and visit his reverend, he feels indifferent.

it’s going to bother him in the future – knows it will, that the weight of his capitulation to a venereal pleasure has the ability to swallow him whole. he betrayed his promises to the church, and if he does not dampen this ember of immorality, then surely joshua will be sent to the rehabilitation board. suddenly, he hears a dainty voice behind him, and is overwhelmed with a lilac, summer scent. upon turning around, joshua finds himself staring at august, wrapped in her snow white gown and glimmering gold sash.

“sorry,” he mumbles, “i’ll move.”

“thank you, joshua,” she nods politely, “enjoy the service.”

“you too.”

august begins to slip past him. she smells overwhelmingly of lilac. he can only think that a person would lather themselves so generously in such a scent if they were attempting to fool people. august can smell as pure as a field of flowers, but that does her no good if joshua already knows what she’s hiding. anyways, it’s not his business. he has no room to be scornful or even the slightest bit judgemental when he had sinned himself. maybe she repents on her own time.

“y’know,” august pauses and smiles back at joshua, “we miss your guitar playing for choir. it was so lovely and showed magnificent spirit. have you ever considered picking it back up?”

joshua scratches his neck, “not really,” he admits, “i’ve already committed my mandatory service hours, so i guess i feel like i don’t need to play much anymore.”

“oh, how unfortunate…,” she frowns, “but, just because you’ve completed your hours, that doesn’t mean you should retire that part of your faith. a dutiful connection is a strong connection, and the church is a place to practice it. don’t let chances to embrace your spirituality slip away from you.”

“uhm,” joshua feels like he’s gaping at her as he uncomfortably replies, “okay, thanks.”

“no problem.” she lilts before continuing her way toward the front of the room.

for some reason, anger is beginning to froth beneath his skin. who was august to tell joshua that he should practice a strong connection to the church? that he should maintain his dutifulness? his spirituality? how can she stand before him and preach such advice when the entirety of her faith is based on dishonesty and extracting hedonism through sin? joshua knows he isn’t a perfect little replica of church ethics, and he certainly doesn’t go around advising people how to maintain their devotion.

the longer he stands in the church, the more joshua wants to leave.

but he can’t. service is obligatory.

as joshua chews his tongue and tries to relax, he glances for a place to sit, though in lieu of finding an empty spot on a pew, he sees your short, lace dress. you’re across the church, standing at the luminary table that is flickering with rows of candles dripping in shiny red wax. joshua nearly trips over himself shuffling into a pew, muttering insignificant apologies to all the legs he bumps in his haste. finally, he gets to approaching you, the mildness of your rainy scent soothing his earlier anger.

“hey.” joshua huffs, coming to stand beside you.

the flames reflect in your eyes like tiny orange stars. he watches your glossy mouth flutter into a smile, and his chest feels swollen with an intense appreciation for how beautiful you are.

“are you following me?” you giggle.

“definitely,” joshua follows along, “it’s not like we’re forced to be here or anything.”

your expression seems smug. “so you’re accepting it now, huh?”

he furrows his brow. “what?”

“the absurdity of it all,” you gesture from the candles to the church pews that are stuffed with perfumed, elegant bodies and solemn, expressionless faces, “that we have to be here. i’m assuming beforehand you used to embrace service as an enhancement to your life, something that you felt you needed. but now, you see it’s true colours.”

“oh,” joshua says in a bit of a haze, “i mean, there’re some good parts to it.”

“like what?” you challenge. “you think it’s good that there are people like august judging the strength of everyone’s devotion when she can’t keep a cock out of her mouth?”

joshua almost chokes. he has no idea how you even heard that conversation from across the room.

“n-no,” he fumbles for the right words, “not that. but—take the luminaries for example. they give people hope, closure, that there really is something bigger than them that’s gonna protect them.”

you give the candles a cold glance and shrug. “yeah, they give people a sense of something, but what good does it do for you?”

and at that moment, joshua had to admit you cornered him. he nestles his hands in his pockets, watching as you stretch out your index finger to a clump of wet wax running down the edge of a red candle. the hot liquid welts onto the softness of your skin. joshua tenses his jaw, suspecting you to pull away in rash discomfort. however, you allow the wax to build on the edge of your finger, almost until you get bored of the heat and there’s hardening red patches stinging numbly at your skin. joshua scrunches his nose.

“doesn’t that hurt?”

you end up sliding the wax off your finger after it’s been reasonably cooled by the chilled, church air. the pews are now bulging with families and couples, adolescents and the elderly. joshua assumes he’s going to have to stand for this service. before you slip away to bury yourself quietly in the density of the crowd, your body suddenly presses against joshua’s, chest flush with chest, so tight he can feel how your heart beats and the firmness of your breasts. his pulse stops. he can hardly breathe as your lips touch his ear.

“i like it when it hurts.”

and then you’re stepping away from him, a faint smirk curving wickedly up your mouth as joshua is left to subdue this concupiscent sensation pooling into his abdomen.

“wait—,” joshua yelps and quickly pivots.

you look over your shoulder.

“how come i’ve never seen you before?”

“i’m sure you have,” you purr, “you just never realized it.”

joshua doesn’t care about the church anymore.

it’s recently dawned on him that there are so many wonderful possibilities to life in the absence of a dictatorial clergy scheming to control the population. their equivocal methods of preaching have now fallen deaf to his ears. joshua feels he has broken free from the spell of fear he used to live by, that any smidgen of sin or unethical behaviour would conjure disappointment from the church, and he’d be sent off to the rehabilitation board or subjected to weekly, brainwashed counselling from his reverend.

he understands why august lives the way she does. she’s free as long as the clergy doesn’t catch her, as long as she appears to fit the angelic portrait painted of her by the church when she participates in service. august is never a suspect, and she knows exactly what she’s doing as she peers directly into joshua’s eyes and tells him to embrace his spirituality. she’s almost mocking him, provoking him to question if he really, truly believes that a strong connection with the church is the only connection he can ever maintain.

almost in spite of the doctrine that’s been chiselled into him for years, joshua finally decides to have fun.

with none other than you of course.

it’s early. a fiery light shines dimly through the stained glass and spills across the floor. joshua sits at the very front pew, his adam’s apple prodding sharply at the column of his throat as you take his cock as far down as your gag reflex will allow. his hand is threaded in tight, fistfuls of your hair, not forcing you to stay in position, but reminding you that he was close. joshua learned alarmingly quickly that your mouth was a lush sensation he valued more than any teaching his reverend had hacked in his dry, crumbly voice.

it was silk, warm and wet, and when you slowly pull your spit-slick lips up his shaft with a trail of saliva attached from your tongue to his head, joshua only falls in love with you that much harder. your nails curve into his thighs, imprinting flustered, red crescent moons. then, he hears you inhale a deep breath before fitting his cock back into your throat again. a shudder races down joshua’s spine. the flat of your tongue drags upward and suddenly you’re lapping up the thick come beading at his tip.

you gaze at him through your eyelashes while your tongue circles his sensitive slit. momentarily, you break contact and murmur to him breathily, “is your whore making you feel good?”

joshua cards his black fringe from his eyes. he holds it away from the perspiration on his forehead as you cushion your wet lips around his head and suckle softly. his hips cant upward, and a litany of curses threatens to pour from his mouth. joshua releases his burning grip on your scalp. with a gentle passing thumb, he strokes your warm cheek, his tone deep and slightly husky, but still true to its sweetness.

“so good,” he chuckles, “pretty whore likes to suck cock? likes it when i paint her throat with my come?”

“mmhm,” you hum while tracing a thrumming vein up his shaft, “love it so much.”

in addition to no longer caring about the church, joshua also doesn’t care that you’re a fallen angel. he knows the reverend would have clubbed him upside the head with the heaviest scripture in his library if he caught wind of joshua’s complete and utter betrayal. but joshua no longer sees the point in pretending as though the natural demands of his body are related to sin. he wants to feel good, and he wants to know the sensations that the church has restricted for solely those who are married.

the thing is, he trusts you more than he has ever trusted his reverend, even if you are a malevolent being.

joshua exhales shakily as you kiss up and down his hard length, your pink lip tint smeared away to reveal the natural pigment of your mouth. you’re adorned in the usual attire, that lace church dress you cut to make notably shorter. except, the dress has experienced some wear and tear. the chest no longer buttons up as tightly as it used to. the buttons always fly open whenever joshua handles you roughly. while you swirl your tongue around his engorged, purple head, joshua can see the soft swell of your breasts.

he knows you have all the time in the world before people begin filtering in for service, but joshua is overwhelmed with the desire to fuck you now.

“hey,” he grunts, and you lift your face from his stomach, “how about we fuck up there?” joshua nods his chin toward the altar.

you smile at him your agreement, though return to taking his cock in your mouth. joshua suddenly grasps onto your hair and pulls you up. your brows furrow.

“now?”

“yeah.” he insists.

your smooth palm is still stroking his shaft, spreading his arousal as a lubricant. frowning, you mewl in half-hearted protest, “but i want to taste you.”

truthfully, you are beyond endearing, and usually joshua would be fucking your face at this point until his seed coated your throat, tears flooding your eyes as you swallowed every drop. but he’s leaning toward something different tonight, something that will truly separate him from the orthodoxy of the church.

“i know,” joshua coos, “it’s just that tonight, i want to be inside you so fucking badly, sweetheart. i want to feel you. i promise i’ll do you right, i’ll come inside, okay?”

instantly you perk up, like a kitten that sees its owner approaching with a bowl of cream. “really?” you exclaim and lick your lips.

joshua nods, “mmhm. does that sound good, baby? you want me to fill you up and really make you my whore? will that make you happy?”

you’re scrambling to your feet. joshua knows that any opportunity to cram more rebellion against the church is like nectar to a fallen angel. your footsteps reverberate to the very back of the room as you hastily shuffle to the altar. its surface is cold, blonde marble that reflects the morning light. you hardly flinch as your bare thighs touch the stone. in a single tug, you rip open the remainder of your dress. it splits down your chest and joshua watches you lustfully as you toss your bra aside.

the process begins of shedding all clothing. in the end, you’re sitting atop the marble, joshua standing between your legs with his cock weighing heavy in his palm. your whole body jerks in impatience and sensitivity when he rubs his flushed, throbbing head to your slit, allowing your arousal to spill onto his length. joshua smirks as he pumps his shaft, purposefully pushing out creamy pearls of his come. he then guides his flushed tip to settle against your clit, circling the wet, sticky region until you buckle.

“p-pplease joshua,” your voice warbles, “it h-hurts, need you to just f-fill me up and fuck me, please.”

satisfaction simmers in his gaze. leaning over you, joshua parts your lips with his tongue and wraps your legs around his waist. when your heels click at his back, he starts pushing inside you, the sensation akin to smooth, slippery velvet squeezing all around him. already you begin to clench down and joshua chuckles into the kiss. he pulls his tongue from your honeyed mouth, looking deep into your eyes to see how glazed they are with pleasure. smirking, he bites down gently on your bottom lip.

“relax, baby,” he groans, “i’m almost there.”

you take a moment to breath before joshua can feel your walls easing around his cock. there remains an enveloping tightness, but it’s deliciously wet and warm, and as his hips succeed in thrusting as far into you as he can, your fingers scratch burning, scarlet rivulets down his biceps. joshua loves it. he loves that he gets to fuck you like this, the sound of your skin roughly colliding echoing throughout the church. the stained glass portrait stares down at you, and it only spurs joshua’s desire to indulge his pleasures further.

“o-oh f-fuck! ri-right there, right t-there! h-harder, please, pl-please, fuck me h-harder—,”

what joshua adores is that you’re unafraid to scream for him, to ruin your own vocal chords in these filthy, desperate cries. it’s difficult to fathom that in merely an hour, this same church will be filled to the brim with townspeople, all powdered up and dressed in the most honorary of clothing, singing timeless hymns and lowering to their knees to utter private thoughts and prayers into their rosaries. joshua glides his tongue up your neck, circling the wet muscle at your thundering pulse.

then, his hand is wrapping firmly around your throat, his fingers pressing against your windpipe and altering the tone of your reckless mewling. in a beautiful curve, your spine arches into him, a hand even flying from his bicep to grip the edge of the altar above your head. consequently you bump over a golden chalice and a candle stick. they clatter to the carpet with a thud, completely disregarded as joshua thrusts his hips against you fiercely, watching your fingers splay against the wrist that holds your throat.

“r-right there, yeah?” joshua mocks you with a smirk flitting up his lips. “you gonna come then? is my little whore gonna come from being f-fucked right on the altar?”

though joshua has you tightly pinned against the stone, you still manage to squirm under him, the once cold marble turning to fire that scorches your skin. your fingernails sink into his wrist. the air is light and flickering in colours as it twirls above your head, but it amplifies the ecstasy until you can only think in fleeting morsels. sin has never felt so fulfilling. joshua knows his orgasm is teetering on the edge of a collapse. he’s inconceivably eager to breed you, to create a new connection beyond the clergy’s control.

how obscene, he casually thinks, to knock up your own fucking fallen angel.

“bet it feels nice, doesn’t it? knowing m’gonna pump all my come into you.” joshua grins as the head of his cock consistently thrusts into that one spongey spot. it makes your body yearn to convulse and violently twist. evidently, you’re nearing an earthshattering orgasm.

“you’re gonna look so pretty,” joshua rests his forehead against your own and gently squeezes your throat, his voice tinged with an unprecedented tenderness as he can’t evade from his rambling, “so, so pretty carrying my baby. you’ll be glowing, s-so precious and beautiful. t-they just can’t find out, c-can’t ever let them know i got you like this, yeah? g-gotta keep it a s-se-secret—,”

joshua is interrupted by the strength of his own orgasm. it bursts in his abdomen, his hand slipping from your throat and latching onto the altar’s edge. you’re quick to mimic his release, the contractions forcing the silk of your walls to tighten around his cock as his warm come spills inside of you. your heels dig into the base of his spine unforgivingly, keeping joshua pressed fully against you while you fumble and squirm out the blissful waves that have shaken even the marrow in your bones.

in the time it takes your bodies to regain a notable strength, heavy breaths wander to every crevice of the church, morning sunlight rippling across joshua’s back in the rubescent shades of the stained glass. he slowly peels himself from your searing skin. when he glances down at your panting chest and the cloudiness of your eyes, the light bathing across your supple flesh, joshua knows in the pit of his core that if he is going to turn away from the church, you are the person he must be with.

his own fallen angel.

he didn’t realize how much he’d emptied into you until he spots the slight bulge in your stomach. you wince as he attempts to draw his cock from your opening. joshua pauses quickly to check your state. rather than a breathless warning for him to be gentle, you start smiling, and in slow, attentive movements you begin to sit up. joshua grasps your hips while you hold onto his broad, amber shoulders. something molten expands in his stomach when you peck him softly before murmuring against his mouth,

“spit on me.”

in the moment, it was the last, fleeting act of complete immorality that would transpire at the altar.

joshua then obeys, and he spits onto where his cock is still buried in your heat. fastening your teeth into your bottom lip, you thrust your hips faintly, the added stimulation coursing akin to an electric shock through both of your bodies. joshua’s spit mixes with his come and your arousal. you squeak sharply when he rubs it further into your clit with his thumb, though joshua silences you with a warm, deep kiss in which he can taste the remaining strawberry tint pink on your lips.

he feels that corruption suits him, especially as he sees the sacred items you earlier knocked down in the pinnacle of pleasure.

“joshua,” you hum while he picks up his clothes and slips them piece by piece back over his body.

turning around, joshua sees you still sitting on the altar, gripping between your legs, desperate to not let his come further spill in sticky trails down your thighs.

“what should i do?” you question.

his laughter echoes into the high ceilings.

“i never thought this far.” he admits, ruffling a hand through his black tresses, “do you have any fallen angel powers that like… stop it from coming out?”

you fold your arms over your chest and pout. “it doesn’t work like that.”

“well,” he comments, picking up your tattered dress on his way toward the altar, “whenever you want to tell me how it does work, i’m right here.”

joshua plants a kiss on the tip of your nose.

besides, it’s not like he can’t just fuck you full again. joshua is sure there’s enough time to escape home for another round before he has to trudge back to another mandatory service. however, he’ll definitely resonate with a different feeling in comparison to all his past sunday’s stuffed within the church. because instead of worrying over how faithful he’s been, or how much he should concentrate on strengthening his devotion, he’ll be reminiscing on your sexual endeavours that transpired right at the altar.

yeah, joshua convicts in his head, being corrupt doesn’t seem so bad after all.

#joshua smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #joshua scenarios #hong jisoo #svt fanfic #svt smut #joshua hong #seventeen imagine #kpop smut

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

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I must be the only one offended by the Korean “ideal type”. They literally say things like “white skin” “blue eyes” “5’7” “one monolid” nd more like wtf is that? I’ve never seen anyone be that specific on a someone. What happened to great personality?m nd getting along? Am I ugly because I’m brown with kinky hair nd brown eyes? I feel insecure reading those. Are BTS like this with ideal types as well? Personality doesn’t matter to them? All they care for is white skin blue eyes straight hair

I think that anyone who has been in love a few times and had a ton of failed relationships can tell you that an ideal type as far as physical features go is a load of shit. at the end of the day, if someone looks good but dosent make you feel good then you’re not going to want to stay with them.

I wouldn't stress about trying to conform to beauty standards too much because if you do- you’re just going to become self-regulating and critical and internally unhappy- because there is no true ideal type. and I think you can agree- you’d rather be with someone who made you happy and could be happy with you and enjoy life at the moment when compared to someone who criticized themselves to the point where they couldn't enjoy the good things that came to them and only obsessed over how much better they could become.

I had a relationship with a very insecure man once, who couldn't get over the fact that I wasn’t sexually attracted to him- even though I tried to explain that im asexual and never feel it and don't feel sexually attracted to anyone- he couldn't let it go. Even though I loved him for who he was and wanted to be around him because he made me happy. He sabotaged our relationship by trying to guilt-trip me into having sex with him before I was ready, even though I told him I wanted to wait until I felt ready. it wasn’t that i didn't tell him i liked how he looked either- because I did, I was never shy about telling him what I liked about him- like his hair or his hands, or that I appreciated who he was and what he did for me and loved how he made me feel.

I don't know why he did this, why he insisted we needed to be sexually active in our relationship even though I felt uncomfortable. Probably because he was trying to prove he was sexually attractive. or maybe it was because he couldn't get over the fact that he felt sexually unattractive and tried to use me to prove to himself that he was- I don't know. My point is- being obsessed with how you appear to others can ruin relationships if you let it, because even though I was prepared to love him for a long time, he didn't want it unless I was sexually attracted to him.

I’m not saying it's not human to care about how we look because it is, or that looking at a person whose cute and to like them because they’re cute is shallow, cuz that is how most of our initial attraction to someone can be triggered. but after a relationship develops it becomes unimportant. you’re not always going to look pretty to the person you love. those ‘ideal types’ you see in magazines or on the computer screen don’t exist without boatloads of prep. but my point is, life and love is a balance of these things, and i think its mostly because we live in such a visual culture that the idea of an ‘ideal’ type is so prevalent.

but in reality, love is not about looks- at least not entirely. it’s more about if they love us the way we need to be loved, and if they perceive our love in a way that makes them feel good.

as for the boys- I don't know how they feel, and they probably won’t ever be able to express it correctly because of the lives that they lead. but I like to think that they view the person they love as more than just look. when I think about namjoon’s lyrics “your sexy mind and your sexy body” - like body come before mind right? and Jungkook singing in euphoria about how he feels- that's a real love song. not singing about who’s got that booty or those boobs or those eyes, but who makes you feel euphoric and giddy and in love. I like to think that they love in this way. But I won't lie to you, I doubt we’ll ever know for sure- or at least- that we’ll know before they’ve already found their person and have gone public with them.

#Anonymous

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

#the year 2020 #2020: star trek #2020: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

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ffwriteradvisor · 4 years

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How to communicate the spoken word in text (and why grammar isn’t all that involved)

Okay, I’ll admit - this (by which I mean grammar) isn’t something I did great at in school. I’m still not sure what a gerund is without a search engine’s help - and according to the search I just did, it’s what you get when you add -ing to a verb which you then use as a noun ex. “Do you mind my asking you?”

The whole thing is confusing.

But that’s not quite what I’m here to talk about today. Today, I’m focusing on the sentence structure of the spoken word and how the rules of grammar don’t always have to be involved.

Natural diction - or, to put it in regular people speak, how regular people speak - is something that doesn’t always play by the rules of good grammar. Quote-unquote ‘fake’ words like ‘ain’t’ are one of the better known ones, but any kind of unconventional speech pattern or accent can shake up the conventional ‘rules’ as understood by the majority.

How does this come across in text form?

Well, there are a lot of ways. The most common and easiest to execute - though not always well - is the phonetic accent; spelling out the words as the character says them instead of how they would be typed up usually. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing and can be quite entertaining under the right circumstances - such as having a character with an accent so thick that another character has to translate -

youtube

- but you also run the risk of making a character’s dialogue impenetrable and losing what they have to add to the story - along with trying your reader’s patience or making your work entirely inaccessible to them thanks to that. There’s also an uncomfortable history with this being used as a means of making characters and the groups they are part of - be they social or ethnic groups - look uneducated, unintelligent, and uncivilized.

The less common way is allowing the character to have stutters and false starts - the natural gaps in human dialogue that often get omitted unless they are there to specifically communicate a point about the character. Filler words like ‘uh’, ‘like’, and ‘y’know’ get regulated to certain character types - often those that are supposed to be lacking in some capacity; intelligence, confidence, honesty, or interest in what’s happening around them. Again, a touch of history with making certain characters and the groups they are associated with look bad, but the history is not nearly as extensive as that of the previous point.

Other ‘incorrect grammar’ things that happen in real dialogue are run-on sentences, cutting off at strange times, incorrect words being brought to mind, words not coming to mind at all - everyone’s familiar with that time where you know you know the word but you just can’t actually name it, slang terms and other unconventional word choices, mispronunciations, non-standard grammar like double negatives and unconventional contractions...

There’s a lot to work with there and, like the phonetic accent, can end up making a character’s dialogue harder to read than it necessarily has to be, especially if there isn’t a ‘correction’ available in text - either through the power of footnotes or simply involving a character who was an English teacher in a past life and now settles for correcting everyone on every miniscule slip.

*You mean ‘minuscule’.

Shush. Well, how do you get around this?

Again, translators in text. This can run from anywhere from another character being, ah- what’s the word I’m looking for?

*Helpful.

Ah, right.

- from another character being incredibly pedantic (which is to say, obsessed with correcting small mistakes in order to show off how smart/educated they are while in-truth showing off how picky they are about the given subject) to your own narrator making a note of that on the sidelines of the scene. Footnotes are a wonder, though not always used to the best effect. For an example of fine footnote-work, I would highly recommend picking up one of the late Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, as he did an excellent job of making his a source of both information and humor that only primarily served to add to the main text.

You can also give your audience an informed look at the situation via the narration. Say that a character had a drunken drawl, that it was hard for the lead to understand the slurring of the vowels and consonants coming out of their mouth. It gives you a picture of what it sounds like being there and what that specific character is like, but without the headache of parsing through ‘an’ didju knaw whut heh dihd ahfta tha?’ and everything that follows. It also removes an element of stereotype from the work - harder to portray a character as backwards through their diction if its written just as clearly as everyone else’s, even if the vocabulary may still vary.

You can also take advantage of that narrators privilege to skip over certain subjects that you don’t want to cover directly in the work.

A slur was spit -

- is a lot easier on my soul to type up than actually naming one directly. It also can leave a room for the imagination of the reader, especially as more information about the person being insulted comes forward. The characters in story might have heard it straight off, but the reader has to put the puzzle pieces together to figure out the form of it from the outline left over.

I think that just about covers that subject - if anyone wants me to add anything that I might have missed on this topic or even something you feel is closely related, just shoot me an ask or leave a reply on this post and I’ll make the addition.

#technical #dialogue #accents

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awed-frog · 5 years

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When you say romance should be 18 and over do you mean the brand of romance we know today (aka toxic) or romance as a whole? If we wrote healthy romance aimed at younger crowds or presented unhealthy behaviour as unhealthy behaviour in regular romance (for older crowds) would that be a good solution?

Well - I see three questions here, all of them incredibly complex and beyond interesting: should art be political and is censorship ever a good idea and also is the romance genre okay? The answer to all of them, in my opinion, is ‘no but’.

1) Should art be political?

The stupid thing is, art is inherently political, whether you want it to or not, but art that’s deliberately political tends to be awful, and that’s a universal truth both for left-wing stuff and for right-wing stuff. When you willingly create political stuff, what you’re crafting is propaganda, and proganda is generally sad and bad. I guess there is propaganda that’s also good art - Victor Hugo’s The Man Who Laughs comes to mind - but the problem is, not all of us are Victor Hugo.

That said, since whatever we create is political (because man is a social animal) and will have some kind of moral message, yes - ideally we want more art with an ethically ‘good’ moral message than we want garbage, because art (and here I include everything: books, movies and so on) is perhaps the most effective and impactful mind-shaper ever. That’s why Disney is doing its very best to be a monopoly, after all. But: I don’t have a good solution for how to ensure art is nice. I think art is nice when artists are nice, and artists are nice when they grow up in good, healthy societies. So the more a society rots from the inside out, the more likely it is you’ll find art that’s also rotten. I mean, while romance as a genre was always a bit dodgy (see below), what that article was talking about - the rise of the possessive, violent boyfriend and domestic abuse as the great love story - is sort of a recent phenomenon, and goes hand in hand with the deterioration of women’s rights in (Western) society.

(As an aside, I’m not sure I agree (young) women are necessarily misogynistic for reading crap like Fiftfy Shades: I think (young) women are exhausted. Fifty Shades is, more than anything, an ode to undeserved capitalism - the only kind that seems open as an option today. After all, we know trickle-down capitalism doesn’t work and most of us will toil and toil for very little; Christian Grey is the antidote to that, the guy who shows up, basically kidnaps you, and smothers you in a life of riches for which the only thing you must do in return is give up. Having someone else decide on your job, your car, your possessions and clothes, where you’ll live, what you’ll eat and when, whether you’ll take birth control (lol: obviously not), when you’ll see your friends and family plus when and how you’ll orgasm - what women tried to escape for generations is suddenly the dream for many of us - not because of any new political ideology, but because we’re beyond tired. Women, like men, are now crushed in a neverending cycle of bs, underpaid jobs, and are apparently fed up enough in taking responsibility for anything that not only romance and ‘superhuman’ characters are booming, but a very specific kind of subset of that: essentially, slave fics.

Just give up your agency, and you’ll be taken care of and cherished - forever.

I understand a kink is not the same as your actual political opinion, but still - I’m not enthusiastic about this trend, and I’m even less enthusiastic when it gobbles up young women who haven’t had time to experience real life relationships.)

No, I think that in the end, the answer is - if you reverse the rotting of society, automatically - statistically - you’ll get healthier artists and a healthier audience. So, really, the fight is always the same: better paid jobs, better (and free) schools, more opportunities for continued education of any kind, more democracy and transparency, more green spaces and better living conditions.

2) Is censorship ever a good idea?

Sadly, no. You’d think the logical conclusion of what I just said would be, ‘In the meantime, let’s ban the most dangerous stuff’ or something, and while part of me is tempted to support that, censorship has a way of ending very badly no matter how good and noble your intentions are.

(Self-censorship should be more of a thing, though: not everything that goes through our minds deserves to be seen and shared.)

What sucks at the moment is that on the one hand, capitalism is operating its own censorship; and on the other, its desperate search for new markets has led to a disastrous disintegration of actual human interactions.

So, problem one is that we only publish and market what makes a lot of money, and while that’s normal, to an extent, the result today is that everything is ‘almost the same’ as the previous thing (think sequels, prequels, remakes, obnoxious book covers for books that are basically all the same). So if ‘asshole boyfriend who beats you up’ suddenly makes money, it becomes very hard to escape the trope, because what will be offered to you everywhere is exactly that. This was less of a thing back when our main sources of entertainment were shared (movie theaters, the one family TV, school libraries and so on); now, it’s an epidemic, and as we see with Youtube algorithms, a dangerous one, because this obsession with watching and rewatching ‘almost the same’ inevitably leads to more and more extreme stuff.

Meanwhile, problem two is that the more tailor-made our entertainment is, the less we connect to real people. I know I sound about 90 here, but when all family members are glued to a different screen - mom watching the 50th remake of Eat, Pray, Love, dad down the rabbithole of lizard conspiracy theories, big brother now exploring some milk&peanut butter weirdness on Youporn and younger sister 30 fics deep into Stucky high school AUs - what do they have in common? What do they talk about? What can they even learn from each other? Until recently, and for aeons, fiction was shared, and its primary goal was to form a connection between group members. Now, that’s gone. We destroyed it, without even realizing what we were doing, in the space of twenty years. And yeah - I know you can create new communities, but a) these communities are virtual (which means, for the most part: not real) and b) they tend to connect like with like, which is comforting, perhaps, but not very useful. The whole point here is that we need to learn how to feel empathy and trust for those who’re different, and build a community with them - instead, what the internet is doing is isolating us inside our little bubbles, so much so that any minor disagreement is now seen as good reason to break off contact.

Censorship, however, doesn’t solve any of this. For starters, we need more regulation on how big corporations can get, what social media companies can and can’t do and who can access what kind of material. And it’d be great if we could all unplug a little, but uh - fat chance of that.

3) Is the romance genre okay?

Again, just my opinion, but personally, I mistrust it. There are no romance books for men? Instead, books for men feature a Main Character doing stuff and improving himself while accidentally meeting a Sexy Lamp he can go home to at the end of the story. And, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but isn’t this a healthier way to look at life? While good relationships are very meaningful (or even the most meaningful) part of any human life, if your goal is to get them, they won’t grow right. You shouldn’t be hyperfocused on finding love; I think it’s much better to be like Main Character: you work on your drawing skills, try a new sport, read poetry, defeat evil Russians, thus developing inner happiness and self-confidence, thus leading you towards towards a partner who’ll fall in love with who you are - not a partner who was looking for some empty shell to fill with their own expectations and preferences.

And I know - romance books and movies are full of exciting non-romantic events and stuff - but still, the fact they’re classified and intended as romance does imply that finding a romantic partner is the ultimate goal. Which, I don’t know, I don’t think it’s healthy, and is a particularly inappropriate message for young women. After all, why is it okay that young men are encouraged to go on ghost hunts, study dinosaurs and save the world while young women are taught to wait around for a broken (possibly violent, but it’s not his fault) bad boy only they can fix? It’s messed up, is what it is, and I may be extreme here, but even the tamest, sweetest romance revolves around the same message: that you’re not complete on your own, and that you should focus on relationships as a way to become a better, happier human being.

Now, as much as I love this quote -

“It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.” — Oscar Wilde

- obviously there’s no direct cause-and-effect here - you don’t read one book and become a mindless Stepford wife - so I’m not saying, ‘no one should read romance ever’. It’s just - as I said in that other post, we should all enjoy diverse stuff. Read your romance novels, but also read the classics, read some philosophy, a random poem, a badly-written thriller - read Stephen King, read how the OED was written, or a Wikipedia article on the French resistance - anything and everything. Because of capitalism, because of this push towards personalized entertainment, we’re being forced and pigeonholing ourselves in smaller and smaller cages, and the worst thing is - we’re comfortable inside them, because this is the awful truth: cages are comfortable, and that’s why we need to get out before we forget what cages are for.

[As a final point: you say ‘if we wrote’, does it mean you’re an aspiring writer? If so, you shouldn’t worry about any of this. You write what you want, you write the stories you want to read. Just remember to get out of your cage as well - experience, discover, grow, read, dare - and then put all that into your books. I’m sure they’ll be great, whatever your favourite genre.]

#ask #books #romance #entertainment #capitalism #ya #fifty shades of grey #narrative tropes #old woman yells at cloud #the end is nigh #i miss the 90s #potentially unpopular opinion

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cyanpeacock · 4 years

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Time for a little reductionism.

There are three paths in life.

1. It is fundamentally negative.

2. It is fundamentally neutral.

3. It is fundamentally good.

You're likely to walk all these paths, at some point or another. Think hell/purgatory/heaven, or Hekate at the triple crossroads, or the Maiden, Mother, and Crone... whichever triumverate fits your belief system.

Feelings can be physical, as in, bodily sensations, or cognitive, as in, shaped by your thoughts.

Thoughts can evolve and change. There are logical arguments for every catastrophic thought you might have, and logical arguments against.

The goal of meditation, DBT skills, therapy, counselling, even the scientific method, and so on, is to give you the ability to make these arguments yourself. You can cognitively regulate all that arises in the body or mind (allelic dysfunction omitted, because that's where psychiatry and pharmaceuticals come into it).

Say you have chronic pain, and it hurts like hell. This might lead you to believe life is fundamentally bad, and that you want an end sooner rather than later.

Pain can be managed through dissociation. Dissociation can be generated through cognition (or the controlled absence of it). Numbness of feeling leads to relaxation, which leads to the relief of pain, or at least relief from the perception of it.

Relief changes your perception of life. Sustained relief can change it profoundly.

Humans have a cycle to relief. It's a little different for everyone - we call it the circadian (approximately-24-hours) rhythm.

So, feeling the goodness in life requires identifying your cycle.

When do you wake best?

When do you work best?

On what do you work? Does it give you interest and attention?

At what times do you eat, and what do you do with your post-prandial dip (after-eating sleepiness)?

When do you sleep best?

Where do you do all these things?

How much movement do you do in a day?

Are you getting the right balance of macronutrients and micronutrients?

Are you spiritually nourished with a philosphical system(s), as well as physically nourished?

Life can be very difficult when you're young, if you aren't naturally inclined to favour attention to your bodily sensations (e.g. because of traumatic experiences, a neurodivergence, or painful genetic condition like osteoporosis or Ehlers-Danlos syndrome). Instinctively, you'd rather escape your body through cognition. Maybe you stayed up all night reading as a kid, because to try and settle down quietly was uncomfortable or painful, despite an awareness your body needs to sleep.

As kids, we don't have enough information to make the logical arguments to cognitively regulate discomfort and pain, and it's easy to either dwell on them, or dissociate from bodily sensations to a degree where your thoughts are in a spin and your mind can't calm down enough to let the body rest. Obsession vs. distraction.

As adults, we've gathered more information, and the rate of growth and hormonal change has stabilised and become familiar. We also become familiarised with our brains, and the circuits that tend to habitually fire. We get to know ourselves, and recognise our habitual patterns, shaped by the environments we have been given and sought.

Habitual patterns can be changed, once they are noticed. The thought "life is bad" can be countered with "life is good" (and yes, the precursor of "what is bad/good?" is another argument, but let's take it to be Maslow's hierarchy - it is good to self-actualize, and bad to have needs unmet or insufficiently met).

This leads you to a place of cognitive neutrality. It doesn't feel great, but it doesn't feel horrible, either. It's just a question that can be proven or disproven - a null hypothesis.

We don't like being neutral for long. We want proof or disproof of the neutral perspective. Living things want to feel good, as in, have their needs met, giving them the freedom to wander, wonder, and appreciate the beauty in their surroundings.

Over time, once the counterpoint is constructed, a mind makes the argument for life being bad less and less, until a need is unmet. One can get used to needs being unmet and maintain the "right" philosophical standpoint for survival in dire conditions, although it might not feel "good" - this might be described as ascetism. However, one probably shouldn't and won't, where needs can be met - because you have come to know "better," as in, what makes your body specifically feel better.

So, in this manner, health can be managed. OCD can be countered, BPD can be regulated, the worst of some forms of bipolar can be mitigated, anxiety can be relieved, depression can be lifted.

Growing your own neuronal networks and firing the impulses you want to (as well as getting comfortable with the ones you don't) takes time. Plenty of people will try to change you to fit their normal. Part of the process is learning that individual bodies' normals (including memories!) do not always agree, so you should find and talk to the ones who support and add to yours, rather than subtracting from it, and to hold your own when you must speak with a challenge.

That said, it may be the more effective means of coping over pharmaceutical drugs. A highly sensitive body responds better to its endogenous ligand (natural molecule) than a replacement, exogenous ligand from outside. On a physical level, the kinetics of dissociation and association of the endogenous ligand are the body's "normal." We just have to make the impulses work for our wellbeing.

If the "normal" is truly unattainable (significant allelic variation), or temporarily unattainable (environmental hardship, changes in epigenetic expression), an exogenous ligand can be applied. It won't have the same effect, because of differing chemical structures, and this is why we get side effects. The receptors get hit slightly wrong, and the pathways fire a bit funny, which has implications for the rest of your body as well as your mind.

Side effects may be bearable. They may be unbearable. You will form a perception and a judgement of the effect of application of an endogenous ligand, and pick the path that is right for your homeostasis, your maintenance of your understanding of "normal," or to fashion a path that returns you to your "normal" (your best epigenetic expression and physical patterns).

We've got a lot of language for attaining the normal, "right" perspective. There's "feeling right." There's "nirvana." There's possessing the "Sight." There's "recovery." It's all about directing energy flow to your will, and knowing the functional bounds of mind and body (which may not be the actual bounds, say, if you have a connective tissue disorder, or a predisposition to emotional intensity).

So, find the structures you have. Do you know about Wiccan practice? The Christian God? Science? Maths? Literature?

Know your language. All that you know can be related using a series of logical connectives and grammatical structures. Assume there is no mutual exclusivity here, because all of this exists, even if it hasn't been fully explained by science. Even a psychotic or psychedelic experience has basis in the physical reality of matter and energy. Your subjective, internal reality is real, because it is here.

This is hard in English, because it's often structured illogically and still understood, but remember irrationality too is part of an equation. Remember 2πr, from geometry in school? Pi is an irrational number. It's okay, and important, to be irrational sometimes! You'll find the integers, or points, that you require a return to.

You are part of the process. Numerically, you are supposed to be here. The cost-benefit analysis for your body favours you.

Hello, world.

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kiriti2009 · 4 years

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Dear America: Preserve These Things For The Love Of God

They say that in Europe our things are tiny and that in America your things are super-sized, and that’s a dangerous statement, prone to error when referring to anything other than the size of our Coca-Colas.

Any further debate could lead to a conflict of unprecedented proportions and distract us from the real issue: Here in Europe we are jealous of a lot of what you have in the United States of America. In particular, three things: God, liberty and civil society. In the social democratic Europe we live in, these three pillars have all but disappeared like the sun setting at the dusk of a civilization. In their stead we are left with secularism, conditional freedom and an all-encompassing state that demands money from us day and night in the form of taxes, while all we can do is shrug our shoulders, pay up and say, as did Bartleby: “I’d prefer no to.”

I write these lines, sit in a German alehouse “Cervecería Alemana” in Plaza Santa Ana in Madrid, an old cafe in which the dazzling Ava Gardner whittled away hours when she was living in Madrid, and in which Hemingway often sought refuge in good beer and beautiful people common to so many other bars in Europe. Midway through the 20th century another celebrated writer would also sit here. The Spaniard, Enrique Jardiel Poncela, was a successful comedian that, just over 30, relocated to the United States to write scripts for Fox studios.

He had such a penchant for tucking himself away in a bar in Madrid to write, that they had to build his office in Hollywood to resemble one, for him to be inspired. Jardiel hated the Hollywood vibe and on returning to Spain said that Americans were like “big kids,” although I’m not sure that’s actually a criticism. He also wrote that if a European wanted to understand America, he would have to buy, on arrival there, a “Bible, an automobile and a corkscrew.”

The corkscrew bit troubles me, even though these were the ’30s. By the way, his epitaph read: “If you want everyone to praise you, die.” When he did die, before his corpse had grown cold, everyone did praise him. And immediately afterward, not having ever displayed any political affiliation, everyone forgot about him. If there is anything this brilliant Spanish comedian got right, it was to be free, gaining himself enmity from both left and right. The European press has never been made for freedom, which is nothing other than the ability to say and do whatever you want and the strength to shoulder the consequences.

A student reaches for an inflated globe during a “Fridays for Future” protest for urgent climate action on May 24, 2019 in Muenster, northwestern Germany.

We envy almost everything about the press in America, from its independence from the government to the bravery shown by many of its greatest journalists, often opting for honor in harakiri — in ink — when the cause is a worthy one; sometimes it’s a sad collective suicide, like when they try to portray Nancy Pelosi as a rising star in the practice of origami. But even a despicable silver-screen villain like Walter Matthau from “The Front Page” captivates us, because in his madness we find an apt description of the wild press that was needed to create the brilliant myth of pressrooms littered by whisky filled flasks, and incredibly unstable individuals trying to keep the government at bay.

Half the things that opinion-makers in the States would make the secular public in secular Europe shake in their boots and cross themselves, and that’s another thing that you got right: It’s important to call an imbecile an imbecile if you don’t you run the risk of confusing the public. And nothing describes the average European: confused and stunned. We’re not even well-manipulated à la Soviet, because even though the left wing tries whenever it can, the European center-right works ceaselessly toward that postmodern sickness called appeasement.

The outcome is that the right wing receives the brunt of the insults, the left being better liars, and nobody can freely say whatever they want in a newspaper without first reading carefully the European Single Thought Law. There are 70 million Twitter users just waiting to write your column, coming close to choking on their own bile as they spit insults at you, while your own contribution to social unrest is safely censored. If you’re right wing, they’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks.

To disagree, to think freely, to stand out, is to dig your own grave in modern Europe. There is a very European bias toward the bureaucratic structuring of private initiatives that becomes truly exasperating. Even in love.

Maybe because of liberty, the United States helps people become millionaires while Europe hinders them. Sometimes quite embarrassingly so. Just one example. Spain’s new social communist government has threatened to cripple rich people with taxes. As a result, an exodus to Portugal has begun. What does this government do? Rectify? No. They threaten with consequences against those leaving. This is all we could expect from a government whose vice president criticizes and insults the owner of Inditex, my brilliant fellow countryman Amancio Ortega, for having donated expensive, latest generation cancer treatment machines, to Spanish hospitals. According to Spanish Vice President Pablo Iglesias, the Spanish public health service doesn’t need “handouts” from the rich. Maybe he’s right. But the Spanish cancer patients sure do. Some people just keep proving Jardiel Poncelaright again when he said: “Those that don’t dare to be intelligent, become politicians.” There are exceptions, but they’re not in Pedro Sánchez’s government.

Spanish far-left Podemos party leader Pablo Iglesias gives a speech during the first day of the parliamentary investiture debate to vote through a prime minister, at the Spanish Congress (Las Cortes) on July 22, 2019, in Madrid.

As a rule, the States’ civil society is healthier than the European because it’s careful not to devote itself to mass ideological prostitution. I said “mass,” I’m not here to naively canonise the whole country, ignoring that you’ve had presidents whose main virtue was knowing how to dance salsa. But even then it’s different. Your genuinely democratic culture — impossible to export– makes it easy to get rid of cretins that manage to reach office.

In Europe, the more independent civic leaders raise their voices and lead all they can, but only until they’re gobbled up by one party or another. Then they become accommodated and their voices become muddled. That might very well be the problem: this very European obsession with security, be it employment, unemployment, social life, housing or relationships. Everything has to be as secure and predictable as German engineering, which is why there exists a certain disdain for the American dream. If America can be reduced to a hamburger, part of the European elite can be reduced to the unassembled pieces of a wardrobe from Ikea; if they ever manage to get it together, in an armed conflict, you’ll find me on the hamburger’s side.

Somehow mobility and meritocracy muddy the social democrat dream, which as with communism, needs poor and hungry to survive. Sometimes I wonder why modern Europeans are so enthusiastic about living when most of their state tutored, predictable and bureaucratic lives are a bore. Obviously Mediterranean Europe is the exception; boredom is impossible there.

All of this has a tragic consequence. The lack of a sense of humor extends like a plague throughout the continent. Europe has lost its sense of humor and that’s it’s drama. You only need see that safety warnings printed on any appliance produced in the European Union to understand how total safety and security is an illness. You can’t take your job so seriously. If you sell phone batteries, don’t place a warning on them, in 10 different languages, asking the buyer not to nibble on it. Don’t make a fool of yourself in 10 different languages. The legal cobweb covering the Old Continent making you do it is no excuse. Exporting illegal batteries is better than looking like a world-class idiot all over the world.

But Europe takes itself too seriously. Everything is regulated in its pocket-sized nations. Everything is vital. Everything is serious. Everything is exceedingly dull. Americans can joke and laugh about filling some dictator full of holes without tearing their hair out and crying, which is exactly what the French, Belgian or the Danes do. The Dutch aren’t laughing so loud this week because some genius in the government has decided it would be a good idea to legalize an anti–old people pill. Suddenly, Dutch progressive OAPs, that have been smoking spliffs since their teens, feel less enthusiastic about death-dealing because they’ve realized that in this year’s Halloween parties they will be the dead.

Incidentally, proof of Europe’s idiotization is that, given a choice as to what we import from the United States, instead of choosing liberty, wealth or the size of the damn ice in our drinks, we chose Halloween, which we would gladly send back to you in a box with its corresponding bow and a thank-you note “always thinking of you.”

Something else we envy. When a policeman shoots down a dangerous terrorist, you all ask how the policeman is and swell with pride over his heroism. In Europe though, public opinion and the media react differently:

Couldn’t he have spared the man’s life?

Was it proportional?

Did he read him his rights?

He wasn’t gunned down for wearing explosives and six machetes, he was murdered for being an Arab.

The same happens with military ops. If no one botches it, America will still rally behind their military when they are deployed, even if there has been political dissent. These small shows of unison that upstage the differences, around basic issues, are what make a nation great. Small things can be huge.

Maybe because Americans don’t believe that the state will save them, and much less guarantee them everlasting life within the foreseeable future, they still choose to trust in God. And that’s understandable. When one sees Bernie Sanders and thinks, if an electoral catastrophe were to occur, that one’s life would be in his hands, it’s a huge relief to know you always have God to save you.

What’s more, God is present daily in the lives of men that, as with any civilization, want to transcend their own arrogance. Which is why, when a politician finishes speaking with a “God bless America!” no one is surprised or shocked. It even sounds good, magnificent, glorious. On the other hand, in Europe, if one finishes his speech with a “God bless Sweden!” or “God bless Denmark!” it just doesn’t work. It’s almost like saying “God bless the International Monetary Fund!” It doesn’t even sound good. What’s more you’ll instantly see people rise from their seats and call out:

Why do you say “God”? I’m an atheist. It’s offensive.

Why do you say “God” and not Goddess? Chauvinist! It’s offensive.

Why do you say “God” and not Mother Nature? I identify as a rabbit. Ethnocentrist! It’s offensive.

In the end you just give up, leave God out of it, but reference Satan because you want to send the whole world to hell. But then, once more, another uproar, like a cat fight on Twitter: Christianocentric! Islamophobe. Allah is great. It’s offensive. That’s when you decide to put an end to the event and hang yourself in a toilet stall. That’s how things are in Europe.

Of course, Europe also has the History, it’s still at the origin of our civilization, illustrious ruins, Spanish literature, British humor, Houllebecq and Swedish women. But it also has its fair share of disappointments. France was supposed to be fun. All of my damned bohemians burned Paris down between opium dens, poetry and whisky. It was all just an illusion. These days their grandchildren don’t go out at night, they only read the state’s Official Bulletin and instead of alcohol, they down copious amounts of ecological tea in vegan tea shops where they extract the tea by caressing the leaves.

What about Spain? My country is another matter. Spaniards are only Europeans during work hours. From six in the afternoon onward — Brussels time — we stop being European and we do whatever we feel like until 8 a.m. the next day. This makes other Europeans feel awkward when they come to do business here. They would much prefer to see a hoard of fools following one another mindlessly through the streets like Lemmings, that strange video game from the ’80s. I mean they would rather be in Berlin than Madrid. We don’t do it because we love partying, but to safeguard the essence of ancient Europe, when Romans would commit the seven deadly sins all together, leave work mid-afternoon for a siesta and always found an excuse for a toast (not the bread one). Our sacred duty as Spaniards is to keep these worthy traditions alive, whatever Brussels says.

It’s not that Europe is a bad idea, just the same as the — oh so different — United States isn’t either. Europe, and I mean the European Union, is a place where we can sit down and talk instead of being gunned down and invaded. It has its benefits, especially in what concerns public spending on weapons. But neither Americans nor Europeans can permit themselves to be complacent. Europe needs to recover its identity or Brexit will be just the beginning, and America needs to keep an eye on what’s happening over here, because no one’s immune to a plague of stupid people corrupting the power. Although I suspect that in the end, whatever happens in the future, here in Europe, we’ll always be jealous of the size of your missiles, Reagan’s politics, Scarlett Johansson’s beauty, George Clooney’s elegance and having a president who tweets all in caps.

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sponfawn · 5 years

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MTH - Mojo Jojo

Mojo Jojo is the most well known villain in the PPG show. I was really happy when he finally got an appearance in More than Human, and especially since he was so in character. I wanted to write about him, specifically regarding his conversation and relationship with Brick (since he only really has a serious interaction with him).

Mojo is Dad number 1. He made the Boys. And tbh I don't think he fully realized at the time, the enormity of the responsibility that comes with creating life. They were plan 578,923 of his schemes to beat the Girls, and I think thats about as far as he got in contemplating their lives, initially. I mean he made them in a prison toilet, and he was perfectly fine sending them to their possible doom at the hands of the PPGs. Him wasn't much better. He brought them back and gave them cootie shots but had no qualms over sending them out again. In the episode "Custody Battle", I think he and Him finally both saw the Boys as more than just tools. They share a tearful moment of pride in their Boys' evil minds, and I think it's at that point where they start to see them more as individual living kids rather than just disposable tools to an end. But I feel like that just gave them more expectations to heap onto their 6 tiny shoulders, along with the initial directive to destroy the Girls. Even after seeing them as more or less people, Mojo can't see past his own expectations and wants for them, much like many real parents.

We see some of this in the conversation between Mojo and Brick. This conversation is so well written. We are given a lot of information about their past and current relationship, exactly why Brick became disillusioned with his Dads, and why he chose to bring the Boys to JS, rather than start their own operation or a normal life. And we are given all of this without expositional monologues or stilted conversation. It feels like an old argument with new circumstances, and we are given just enough information to be able to reconstruct the info as a cohesive picture . Mojo considers the Boys' work with JS a questionable choice, and a disappointing one. Brick counters his disapproval saying, "you speaking for Him now?", likely referencing similar lectures Him has given in the past. He explains a bit of what JS Inc. does, criticizes Mojo for prioritizing credit for his evil over subtler, secret evil, and therein lies the root of the conflict. Brick at one point, and even now, admires Mojo for his resources and abilities, but is frustrated with his strategies and what he perceives to be a futile, small-minded, obsessive struggle. He wants Mojo's approval, wants the dad that he looked up to to recognize his efforts and accomplishments he's made. Mojo calls him a disappointment and, "a boy who shunned his duty, his destiny, the very reason for which he was created”. It's kind of an old school vs new school conflict, where Mojo is the traditionalist and Brick is the son who wants to move the family business in a more modern direction, and ends up leaving to make his own business. Mojo is the dad who wants to keep the family store, and Brick is the kid who wants to sell it or make it a chain rather than inherit the same exact duties. Likely due to the way that Mojo and Him treated the Boys first like tools, and then their custody battle, and no doubt their following manipulations, Brick is hyperaware and protective of his freedom and ability to make his own choices. (Ironically, he treats his brothers like he owns them and they aren't able to make their own decisions. But I think that is a product of feeling responsible for them, since he's the leader and he's the one who got them free. That responsibility was forced on him so young - when they all should've been learning emotion regulation, communication, and coping skills, and weren't able to. He's taken care of them all this time, for better or worse. But I think, along with the childhood abuse, it's made him more like Mojo and Him than he'd like to admit.) All of this is particularly evident in the following excerpt:

"... I would advise against dismissing that which you are obligated to do.”

“I am not obligated to do anything,” he said. Mojo, this idiot, couldn't see, would never see. None of them ever would.

Brick stared at him, letting his hatred simmer. He wanted to remember this. This was why he had left. This was why it was so important that he get out of here as soon as possible. He would drown in inadequacy here, in this city, listening to drivel like this. He didn't owe anyone a fucking thing. No matter if Him had created them, and Mojo before. They belonged to nobody. Brick belonged to nobody.

“Of course you aren't. Nobody expects anything of an utter disappointment.”

~ ~ ~ ~

I want to delve into another specific part of the conversation, just before the previous excerpt. I'm gonna bold the parts I wanna talk about, and color code them by theme cuz theres a lot to unpack. I think Mojo Jojo gives us some pretty big insights, and possible foreshadowing for More Than Human's progression:

“You say you rejected a destiny that holds no option for you other than failure, but did you ever make the effort? You accuse me, and those with similar inclinations like me in this city, of wasting our efforts, of essentially not being 'evil enough,' the Devil Himself included, the absolute paragon of Evil, the very Being who recreated you! You have no grasp of how significant your origins are! You are a part of something you cannot even begin to comprehend, and instead of taking that opportunity and living up to the responsibilities you shouldered—”

“I shouldered nothing. I was a kid, a stupid kid who didn't know any better—”

“And remarkably enough, nothing has changed. Listen closely so that you may remember this later and I will not have to repeat myself since you have already listened to it and taken this into consideration. You may submit to the idea that being evil means manipulating the world from behind a dark, secret curtain of secrecy, but in the end, how much more devastation will be brought about by you killing whatever rich person it is that you kill who has a lot of money because they are rich, than by destroying those that signify eternal hope and salvation? Those that have become symbols of love and beauty—”

“A symbol is only a symbol. Humanity is fickle. Symbols come and go.”

“Your youth does not excuse your stupidity,” Mojo admonished. “The devotion of the pitiful human heart is not to be underestimated, Brick.”

A silence passed between them, marred by the deep snoring of the sleeping guard.

“You and your brothers were created to destroy the Powerpuff Girls. Both times. Him even placed you with that duty, which is yours no matter what you believe. A task from the Most Evil One is not to be taken lightly, at least, not in my recommendation; I would advise against dismissing that which you are obligated to do.”

First, the section bolded in red is an important exchange. To some degree, Brick knows that it was wrong to hold children to any serious, life-changing responsibility even if they agreed to it. I'm not sure if he recognizes that he, and likely the Boys as a whole, were subject to at least emotional abuse. But he knows it was fucked up. The line where Mojo says, "no one expects anything of an utter disappointment", really shows the kind of dad he was. As much as he's a comic relief villain who doesn't allow cursing, its a sharp reality check for how he probly treated the Boys as soon as they began showing disinterest or different goals from what he wanted. No wonder they emancipated themselves.

The section bolded in black might be a hint of foreshadowing. Mojo talks about how Him remade and tasked them with destroying the Girls, how they're part of something bigger than they can understand, whether they like it or not, and that they cannot avoid that. I think Him has a plan for ensnaring the Boys as well as the Girls (which I will get into more with Him's post). And I have a theory that it relates directly to the blue coded sections.

In blue, Mojo and Brick discuss symbols and human nature. Specifically, Brick dismisses the Girls as lasting symbols of Hope, Love, and Justice for the public, and Mojo warned him not to underestimate the devotion of the human heart. He specifically says that the Girls have become a symbol of Love and Beauty for the citizens of Townsville, which parallels how they have become symbols of Beauty and Love for the Boys as well. In my theory, this ties directly into how Him's scheme will go down. Again, I will go into detail in the next post, but I think He's going to use the devotion of the very human hearts in our 6 more than human teens. How much more devastating would it be for the Boys to destroy the very ones theyve come to love?

#sbj more than human #chillin with the villains series #mojo jojo #its a long one

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