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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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gods, ok, apparently i’m not done.

atla fandom? we need to have a chat.

(....ok that made me sound pretentious as fuck. and maybe i am, but this needs to be said, cause i’m getting....real, real tired of a Certain Corner of this fandom and as a result, this is gonna be a discourse-heavy post so feel free to scroll past if that’s not your bag. as always, my salt posts all carry the catch-all #salt for ts tag, which you’re free to blacklist/filter at your leisure. i’m Very Annoyed at the moment, which will probably come through in the following post, so just. yknow. be prepared for that. or ignore it, that’s perfectly valid too.)

under a cut bc i do care for my followers and their sanity i swear lmao

there’s a real serious issue in this fandom with not understanding what queer terminology actually means or implies, especially when applied to a fictional narrative.

i’m specifically talking about ‘coding’, here. (if i were in a more meme-y mood, i might have said ‘the atla fandom found out about the term “gay-coding” and haven’t shut up since’.)

to the people who say ‘zuko is gay-coded’, i have this to say: you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means. because he isn’t. i’m sorry, but he’s not! and the fact that this is such a prevalent claim in this fandom is distressing, bc it says to me that none of y’all know what gay-coding is or when and how to apply it! please, i’m begging you, go and look up these terms and what they mean and when they should be used before actually trying to plug them into your critical analysis, because when you misuse them and then call other people delusional for disagreeing with you it casts a pall over the entire fandom and is, i think, the root of some of the worst toxicity this fandom has to offer.

and the thing is, there are cases where gay-coding would apply--for instance, a couple series that are famous for queerbaiting their audience by coding their main characters as being attracted to one another (sometimes even despite their openly stated sexualities) come to mind, but those shows bare no similarities at all to atla and how zuko was written and portrayed! (and it would be funny, if it weren’t so obnoxious and infuriatingly wide-spread throughout the fandom, because the only queer couple we actually seen on-screen in either show wasn’t even queer-coded in any respect, and they’re canonically bi! [yes, i’m shading korrasami, or more accurately i’m shading bryke for refusing to give ka the build-up and development they deserved].)

this absolutely isn’t to say that headcanoning zuko as gay is a bad thing or invalid in any respect. (although the tendency for zukka shippers to do this specifically to keep zuko away from katara and/or invalidate his canon relationship/attraction to girls is more than a little eyebrow raising. especially since sokka is usually allowed to be bi, bc fans have no problem letting sukka stay in the background bc it’s no real threat, while jetko shippers are happy to have both boys be bi. [possibly bc katara is less a threat to jetko bc jetkotara is every bit as valid as any single ship between the three, but zukka can’t exactly let katara join in, and if the potential exists for zuko to be attracted to her then canon giving them the far deeper emotional bond becomes a threat to zukka’s existence? idk for sure--you be the judge.]) i prefer to hc zuko as bi (and always have, long before the atla renaissance), bc i don’t think zuko being attracted to boys is outside the realm of possibility, and it isn’t a threat to my ship since zuko&katara had a deep and emotional bond in canon that is very easy to develop further into something that becomes explicitly romantic--but the headcanon itself isn’t really the problem (although what it’s often in service to can be).

it’s the strange insistence that this is the only way to read his character, bc he was coded that way and so anyone who doesn’t see it must be too straight to understand--and i really shouldn’t have to say why and how that is so incredibly fucking insulting. (the ‘hetero lenses’ comment wasn’t cute when it came from bryke six years ago, and the same sentiment being repackaged and delivered by zukka shippers ain’t cute now.)

calling zuko gay-coded not only demonstrates ignorance as to what the term actually means, and how to usefully apply it in critical analysis, but also validates the frankly bullshit insertion of institutionalized homophobia in the world of atla where it was neither needed, nor wanted, nor ever hinted at in canon. as a queer woman i’m still infuriated by one fucking comic panel shoving institutionalized and systemic homophobia into a world where it was entirely unnecessary (and doing this in the first installment of the franchise showcasing a queer relationship??? making korra and asami worried about ‘coming out’ when they could have just gone on to have cute adventures together and tell people ‘hey we’re dating’ and have everyone else be ‘that’s awesome =DDD’ [because it is, in fact, possible to just have a world without homophobia i promise!!!!!] double yikes, i’m still pissed at bryke about it), and i doubly hate that ‘zuko is gay coded’ has become so widespread that ‘ozai hates him bc he’s gay’ has become a staple in that part of the fandom.

not only does making zuko gay and implying (or outright stating) that ozai hated and abused him because of it completely undermine zuko’s character arc by making his abuse about his sexuality rather than ozai’s toxic pride and anger at seeing himself reflected in his ‘weak’ son, but it comes very close to outright stating that abuse and trauma are inherently gay experiences, and they aren’t!!! they really aren’t, i promise!!!

abuse and trauma narratives exist outside of ‘my dad hates me because i’m gay’. and, quite frankly, there are MORE THAN ENOUGH queer trauma narratives out in the world. we do not need to start trying to retroactively make them canon in a series where they didn’t exist! if you’re gay and see yourself in zuko and project your own experiences on him, that’s understandable and valid. that does not make zuko gay-coded. and honestly, the insistence that he is makes very little sense to me, because you’re essentially trying to give the show credit for work you put into interpreting the characters! why would you want to do that? why not own your own headcanons and take credit for them, rather than insisting they are canon and everyone else is wrong for not seeing them??? like, i’ve said before that i’ve always headcanoned zuko (and katara) as bi, and even support it with my interpretations of evidence from the show, but the difference between ‘i think zuko is bi’ and ‘zuko is definitely gay-coded’ is that i know that bi zuko is my interpretation of canon, and that it is work i’m putting into the show that wasn’t actually intended by the creators/writers, no matter how much sexual tension i read into the jetko swordfight.

and like, zuko’s character arc doesn’t actually parallel a queer one all that well to begin with. it’s easy enough to do the work and twist it sideways just enough to make the general points fit, but the fact is, zuko’s arc is not one of self-discovery. it’s not one of coming to understand something fundamental about himself that he can’t change, that he was hated for, and coming out to his father in a dramatic confrontation where he shows that he understands himself and doesn’t need his father’s acceptance to be fulfilled.

zuko’s arc is actually one of trauma and healing. and those can (and often are--like i said, there are more than enough queer trauma narratives in the world, atla really doesn’t need to be one of them) be part of queer narratives, for sure! but they aren’t uniquely queer. and zuko’s confrontation with ozai during the eclipse doesn’t read like a ‘coming out’ at all. (yes, i’ve seen that post. yes, i rolled my eyes and moved on, bc unlike some people, i’m capable of not clowning on correctly tagged posts i disagree with.) zuko is specifically confronting ozai over his abuse, because his arc wasn’t about discovering anything fundamental about himself (and therefore realizing that ozai was hating him for something he couldn’t change)--it was about realizing that he was not at fault for the way his father treated him. it was also about realizing that the fire nation was broken and corrupt at its core, and that his father was an aspect of that he needed to break away from so that he could help the world begin to heal.

he says it himself:

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

making this about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

anyway, uh, that was a lot of words, so have a tl;dr: zuko is not gay-coded. there is nothing uniquely gay (or even uniquely queer) about his character arc or characterization, and he was certainly not coded gay in an attempt to sneak a queer character past the censors. if anyone involved with atla was gonna try that, it would’ve been in lok, and as established, they didn’t even manage to queer-code the actual queer relationship before the last few minutes of the final episode. headcanoning zuko as gay is absolutely fine (though if it’s only done to keep him away from female characters he may otherwise be attracted to, that smells more like misogyny than anything else), but insisting that this reading is the only one that makes sense, and anyone who doesn’t agree must be straight (hello, queer woman here making this insanely long thinkpiece) is very much not.

ship what you like, but stop trying to invalidate other ships and other interpretations of characters just to make your ship seem more plausible. it’s really not a good look.

#atla #zuko #zukka salt #more like zukka shipper salt #atla fandom salt #salt for ts #zuko is not gay coded and im so so tired of seeing that argument in this fandom #it's fine as a hc but it's not canon and was never remotely intended and his arc isn't particularly evocative of a gay narrative #long post #queer things

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nimata-beroya · 3 years

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I was reluctant to write this post but I need to get it out of my chest. I know that the larger a fandom is, the more dramatic it gets. That's the case with Star Wars. In the past few weeks, the negative discourse in the TTB fandom has gotten to my nerves.

I fail to understand why some people waste their time and energy on something that doesn't bring them joy. They could simply step away and focus on something else. I'm not saying that they can not criticize the show's flaws, which it has… many of them, but if it's that all they do all day long, then it's not worth it! What's more, with their negativity they sour the experience of others that do enjoy the show.

Neither is the need to bash characters with baseless arguments, only because the show takes a different route than what people want. It's not your story to tell, it's Dave's and of the rest of the writers involved. It's THEIR vision.

This is going to be a long post, so I'll put the rest below the cut. If you think you'll feel attacked by what I'm talking about, please scroll past it and move along. You don't need to read it.

First, I want to talk about both Hunter's and Crosshair's radical stans. To love one character doesn't mean you're justified to trash the other. They all need to understand that BOTH CHARACTERS are in an impossible situation and do their best with what they got. BOTH ARE VICTIMS OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES. VICTIMS OF THE EMPIRE.

My blood boils every time I see someone, often Hunter's radical stans, saying that Crosshair is bad, the villain. *Breathe in, count to 10, breathe out* Aren't they watching the same show as the rest of us? Did they forget that he has an inhibitor chip implanted in his head, which is activated? Not only that but don't they remember that the Kaminoans tweaked with it at Tarkin's orders? Several times?! CROSSHAIR IS BEING CONTROLLED AGAINST HIS WILL. Everything he's done so far is literally not his fault.

Crosshair's caustic personality is not enough to make him a villain. Even before the chip activated, he was a jerk and a bit insensitive sometimes, yes, but that doesn't make him a bad person. He's just human. He also has a dry sense of humor, he's extremely proud of his brothers even when he taunts them, he can show compassion. Could the activation of the chip exacerbate the worst bits of his personality? Possibly. But it's beyond his control. How can anyone blame him for that?

And the "Villain" label is wrongly used on Cross, let me tell you. Crosshair is an ANTAGONIST, not a villain. If you want to know the difference between those terms, then you should read what I said in this reblog on a post from @rebekadjarin.

The only way I can accept to call Crosshair a villain is in the event of after removing his inhibitor chip he decides on his FREE WILL and for EVIL REASONS to stay with the Empire and do bad things. In that case, I'll be the first to bitchslap him. Not a second before.

Let me tell you, Cross' radical stans aren't any better, calling for Hunter's head for leaving behind and not trying to rescue their beloved. *Breathe in, count to 10, breathe out* I would like for any of them to tell me when and how Hunter missed the opportunity to do the deed?

Let's recapitulate what has happened so far and see when The Batch could have gotten their brother back:

By the end of episode 1, the batch leaves Kamino believing that Cross turned on them. They didn't know about the chip yet so, to them, Cross was who did the betrayal. It was him who was gunning for them.

It's on episode 3 when they realize that Cross' behavior is influenced by the chip, but they're grounded on that moon because the Marauder needed repairs after the skirmish on Saleucami.

With the ship flying again, could have they gone back for their brother? Yeah, nope. That wasn't happening. They had no fuel, no food, no supplies, and even when Tech fixed the ship, I don't think it was at the top of its conditions to risk another round against Imperials and their guns. So they headed to Pantora and ran into Fennec Shand

Which led them to Ord Mantell to get information. At that time, found out who was that bounty hunter hot at their heels took precedence over helping a brother who, as far as they knew, was relatively safe. They were not, their little sister less than anyone else. So they made the deal with Cid

You could argue that they didn't need to accept the Corelia job to retrieve the tactical droid from the decommissioning facility, but Cid didn't give them much of a choice, tbh, and I have the feeling that they still needed money for the supplies that they didn't get in Pantora (shopping got a little short there didn't it?) The job was a bust because theY ended up giving the info to the Martez sisters.

By episode 7, Rex comes, and everyone goes to Bracca to take their implants out.

Until this point, the shadow of Crosshair gunning for them was distant and vague. But then…

Crosshair caught up with them and tried to kill them. (I do believe that Cross, even at this point, was fighting the chip. He doesn't miss shots ever, CT-9904 does. But the batch doesn't know that. They have a very fresh memory of Wrecker trying to kill them. They know that under the chip's influence no plea works. Even so, Hunter tries to talk to Cross. The batch does what they can to not get to the worst with him but neither want to die so they chose the best next thing.) They barely escape. Well, sort of.

Omega gets kidnapped by Cad Bane, Hunter gets injured. But they survive the day and get reunited

More now than ever, the batch knows how a great threat Crosshair is for them. He knows them too well and there are no unconventional tactics that would work on Crosshair. The batch is at s huge disadvantage, so what do they do? Run. Run, boy, run. Strategic retreat, let's call it. They go back home with the tails between their legs and Cid reminds them about the huge debt they got with her. They have no choice but to accept another job with which neither of them is happy about

To everyone's surprise, they find themselves free of debt, with money. Here could be the moment to get Cross back. Really? Do you think so? What should they have done? Go back to Kamino and waltz through the hallways full of brainwashed clones that would kill them on sight and say "Hey, haven't you seen a toothpick lover jerk around? We'd love to take him away from here". Yeah, that would've gone so well 🙄 Besides, Crosshair wasn't in Kamino, he was in Ryloth so their effort would've been wasted.

Indirect showdown with Crosshair in Ryloth. Barely escape, again.

So, seriously, tell me, when exactly was the opportunity to rescue Crosshair? And all this is without considering that Cross wouldn't go willingly with them, the several squads of troopers that are around him all the time. The Bad Batch is good but they know their limits. Rescue Crosshair, for much I'd love to see it happening way sooner, it was simply impossible.

And before I go, one final rant. This is about those who whined and whined about the "filler" episodes, especially last week's (1x13). Can you imagine how it would have been if Infested had been an intense episode considering that this week's killed us all?! And we got 2 more to endure, which I'm sure will utterly destroy us all. Yeah, I'm very glad that, despite everything, Dave does take care of us giving us a moment to breathe before launching us into the abyss of despair.

#long rant #star wars fandom #tbb #the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #crosshair's protection squad #hunter's protection squad #the bad batch protection squad

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aroaceacacia · 2 years

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(Talking a lot cause these discussions interest me lol)

Heavily agree with the point abt the fandom having a superiority complex, I'd argue it makes you look worse to so heavily praise your ccs because you're showing off how not properly critical of them you are. You hold them so high up but what happens if it turns out they're scumbags? What are you gonna do then? You can't defend people forever and you can't act like they're perfect. They're not. If you're not critical of others you're setting yourself up for a lot of disappointment and backlash, and those ccs too. I agree that praising ccs is setting them up for the worst failure ever.

And it doesn't look good to praise hermitcraft so highly with terrible fanbases. Fans reflect a lot on the creators. You'll hype them up but some people might see for example all the discourse and people hurt by it in 2019, and they might think "wow this is actually condoned here?" and they might stray away from all of it. Why take the word of such horrid people? And to go "hermitcraft is the best!!" makes it look like you're calling yourselves the best too, and all that does is show off your ego and how you're blatantly hiding everything bad that happened in the fandom in order to look good. Sure, it's technically in the past, but it still happened, those toxic people still did what they did and they do still exist. We stay far away from hermittwt so we don't know what all is still going on with them but I wouldn't be surprised if they're still enforcing those shitty actions and ideals to some degree.

Again—If I was a complete stranger to hermitcraft (impossible when that's my source as a fictive but theoretically) and I saw all the praise it got from people who on one platform harassed and bullied people off of it for something that wasn't actually harmful, including harassing one of the members themselves off, and on another people did similar going after people and trying to make their own rules for a public fandom—honestly I don't think I'd be able to believe that it's actually as good and unproblematic as those people say when I'm seeing what the hell their fans are doing. I'd be wary of it, and even if I gave it a try and enjoyed it, I'd still cringe at the fans and feel very unwelcome around them. Regardless of if ccs can't always control their fans, that does not look good on them, it's an unfortunate truth but a toxic fanbase can and will rub off on them or impact how others outside may view them.

You're making them look worse, not better. In the long run that's kind of all you're doing. People need to be critical of the hermits still, you cannot shove bad things aside and not let them be public in attempts to look better. Just because they appear mostly alright now doesn't mean you shouldn't be prepared in the back of your mind for that to change.

And what do you value more—making yourselves look good, or proper human values and moral correctness? Because if you use what praise you think makes you and your favorite ccs look good, if they turn out to be terrible, you're not only making yourself look horrible but you're also appearing to have shitty morals too with how much you defended them even if that news didn't come out yet. If you're not critical of them its essentially going "I do not believe this person could possibly be horrible and even so I would continue to like them even if they were awful". And if they did turn out to be awful, if you put a lot of praise into them, you've made it sound like your next move is fighting for your fucking life to defend them.

-C⚔

c you are the most based person ever

#asks #discourse

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mppmaraudergirl · 3 years

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I love love love the tendancy in the marauder fandom to make all the people Moody names in the Order photograph classmates. Like Dorcas, Marlene, Benji and the rest. And Dearborn and the Prewett twins are usually written only a few years older. I know its because names from the older generation are thin on the ground in canon and we take what we can get but it paints such a funny picture if you think about it. Like this one year group makes up the majority of the fight against voldemort, just these guys who all sat in Transfiguration together and collectively decided to kick Voldies ass. Or you can look at it the much more depressing way in that they were all the perfect age when the threat appeared for Dumbledore to groom them into his first child army. Young enough to trust him implicitly but old enough to have the skill. Depends which way you wanna swing with it.

Oof.

This is a really fun message, so first off thanks for that. I may not be the best person for this discourse because I tend to stay away from canon/the Order for this very reason: shit is sad. But I do have some feelings about it this particular aspect of Marauders fandom.

Do I think like any of the common classmates seen in fics are likely to be the true classmates of the Marauders? No, not really.

In what little canon we know, here are those identified as being Hogwarts age in the 70s (off the top of my head): James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, Regulus, Snape, Mary Macdonald, Mulciber, Avery, and during OWLs we hear Flitwick speak to a Stebbins and a Fawcett. In relation to the Marauders, we know Bertha Jorkins was a few years older, Gilderoy Lockhart a few years younger, Lucius was nearly finished with school when they started; we can vaguely guess the Black sisters were between 5-10 years older, and can say with reasonable certainty that there are at least a handful of "Sacred 28" names floating around their year in school.

This leaves a ton of room for interpretation and that's half the fun of it all.

I personally don't think Alice and Frank were anywhere near Lily and James in age, nor Marlene, Dorcas, Amos Diggory, etc. It's just not realistic to think that's possible, particularly when it comes to the Order. Dumbledore needed higher ups in the Ministry on their side to have any chance of fighting. Though truth be told, there's not much available to refute making Dearborn, Fenwick, etc, the Marauders' ages either! So yeah, I can, and do, see the appeal of making them all classmates.

Our fandom has really evolved beyond canon in this regard -- and why shouldn't it? Besides us, who has given any of these characters a second thought in the last decade? So who cares if Marlene McKinnon is supposed to be some high level ministry executive 40 years older than Lily? As far as we're concerned, she's Lily's dormmate and friend.

Anyway, all this to say that fandom has adopted all of these characters who were likely much, much older than the Marauders and brought them to life. And I think that's pretty fucking cool.

#if you couldn't tell #i love this fandom #create on my friends #canon shmanon

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wiltingofthewhitelily · 2 years

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Is Hetalia worth getting into

dear anon, I honestly don't know how to answer that :') there are many positives and negatives to being in the hetalia fandom, both sides stretching very deeply. on one hand, I love being in the fandom but on the other hand, I really hate it jsjsjsjj. idk it's weird

one big piece of advice I have if you are looking to get in the fandom is please don't get too deep into fucking discourse. you're allowed to have your opinions and call out problematic things, of course! but don't just make your whole fandom experience arguing with people who aren't worth your time. it will most likely just make you feel angry and nasty all the time, which isn't good. just block who you need to block, stay away from what you need to stay away from, and just carry on your merry way. I don't really speak from personal experience as I was never too deep into that kind of stuff, but at this point I really don't give a shit about what other people are doing in the fandom (of course I still love and support many amazing people, don't get me wrong! but I don't just sit around and argue with people I don't like sjjsjssj). I've just, for the most part, created like...my own little personal bubble with my oneshots and headcanons and comfort ships and comfort characters :'))) and I'm happy as I am now so- I mean I don't even like talking about/mentioning ships and stuff that I don't like because I wanna stay as far away from discourse as possible

so, if you take that one overarching piece of advice (there's other smaller pieces of advice I'd offer but that's just the main one), I would say yes, get into the fandom! there's lots of amazing people here and we'd be happy to welcome you :))

#ask #emma rambles #sorry this took so long I didn't quite know how to answer this at first #also sorry if this is jumbled or I misworded a point I was trying to make #I just typed this up pretty quickly

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alteredphoenix · 3 years

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I wonder what it says about Sylvanas as a character when you look at the community - whether it’s on Twitter, Reddit, MMO-Champion, on Tumblr or any other forum WoW can carve a niche in - and see the absolute divide she has on people the likes of which I don’t think I’ve seen in any fandom before. I can’t say I’ve seen the fandom be this tense since...hmm, well, I guess we can say Jaina in Battle of Dazar’alor, since she’s another long mainstay in the cast.

But it’s as the devs said: Sylvanas makes Garrosh look like a child; his crimes pale in comparison to what she has done and the people she has allied herself with. Not to mention the ‘let’s break the Machine of Death and upend the Cycle that shoehorns predetermination against our will for a new system where we can have free reign on our choices without the threat of otherworldly powers and artificial intelligence puppeteering us in the direction they want us to go’, which sounds well and dandy...until you remember that all souls post-Emerald Nightmare are being funneled into the Maw and, as the SL artbook states, tortured until they’re driven mad and side with the Jailer to increase his numbers.

As a fanfic writer and a player that tends to stay away from discourse as much as humanly possible, I personally don’t mind the direction the story is going in. I’m a lot more patient now than I was when I was a girl; after all, my white whale of anticipation isn’t Sylvanas, but Turalyon and Alleria, whom I waited on for eight years to properly debut. Even now, with their roles currently solidified in the current state of canon, I’m content to wait even longer for the inevitable Light Versus Void expansion to see what will happen to them. People like them have the equivalent of the Sword of Daedalus hanging over their heads. It poses the question “Will they or will they not die?” It is the natural progression one can see when we look at integral characters that we follow for a set number of expansions, such as Garrosh, Varok Saurfang, Jaina, and Tyrande.

It’s no different with Sylvanas when you look at her, except this time she doesn’t just come with the Sword. She comes with so many impressions and conclusive feelings that anticipating the finale of Sanctum of Domination is akin to betting all your money on the horse you want to believe for a fact is going to win the Kentucky Derby; hell, let’s replace that with the Super Bowl instead, because that’s how monumental this is being hyped up to be. There’s a strong taste of tension, bloodthirst, and outright mental anxiety over what will happen to her, and that comes off as a little worrying for me - more so the anxiety than the bloodthirst, that’s to be expected with Sylvanas. I have read posts from users during my Tumblr surfing sessions where the more diehard fans are having panic attacks just thinking about the outcome.

I am a Sylvanas fan. I like her. I disagree with some of her decisions, but I still like her just as I like Arthas - her parallel - and disagree with his decisions. But be she hero or villain, the story direction is not worth damaging your mental health over. The story so far has been told and will yet to be told. It’s okay to step away. It’s okay to turn out the noise and focus on yourself. As much as I find some of the dedication toward her to be too extreme and obsessive for my tastes, I also don’t want those fans that feel that strongly to hurt themselves in the process. Then again, I’m no doctor; that’s going into territory I’m not educated in. There’s not really much I can offer you other than that, and you are free to take of it what you will.

I’m not sure where else to take this; I’ve rambled far more than I wanted to, and I’ve deviated more than intended. But let me put it like this: if the story is easy enough for me to understand and I like it, then I’m content with where it’s heading. Maybe that makes me foolish and naïve, but that’s just who I am. I don’t think in terms of ‘is this bad writing’, I think of ‘do the plot and characters make sense for me’. I do wish the lore were a little more consistent, but WoW is going on 17 years old, some of the stuff I’ve seen from older expansions haven’t aged well or have holes in them that need to be patched. I guess that’s why I get confused when some people really stretch out the ‘irredeemable, unsalvageable, maniacal, mustache-twirling Saturday Morning Cartoon Snidely Whiplash’ impression they put on Sylvanas, and I’m over here thinking she’s always been that harsh, cruel Banshee Queen of Undercity who has had her moments of relatability born from tragedy and a specter of love for her people and family that has been stomped on so much she’s willing to tear down the System of Death. If the Split Soul Theory plays into any of this, that’s something I will have to accommodate to.

I am a writer, after all. I’m patient. Whatever happens, happens, and to see the amount of discussion that Sylvanas brings to the fandom solidifies her as a memorable character. You could even argue this makes her a great character, and as a person with writerly aspirations I think, in my personal opinion, that nothing would make me happier than seeing a character of questionable morality who commits even more questionable actions to reach such heights of sympathy, fame, and notoriety.

That’s all that matters to me.

Take care of yourselves. Be nice to each other.

#warcraft #sylvanas windrunner #tbh the fact that i even have to put this out here BECAUSE of the raid speaks volumes to her character #no matter how you look at her she's bringing everyone together #and i say that's better than what jaina azshara and garrosh brought to the table #in terms of anticipation #i'm positive there are characters from other fandoms that have generated this much tension that i'm unaware of #but sylvanas is the only one that comes to my mind that's got people talking #i would not be surprised if she somehow ends up trending on twitter #i am just expecting it at this point

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aspiringhorrorauthor · 3 years

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hello, PLEASE tell me your aroace analysis of the black parade album, i would like to see it 👀👀

What up guys, I just passed a vet med practice exam and I’m aroace and emo as fuck so let’s do this

First off, I will preface that I know that this wasn’t quite MCR’s idea of the album, but art is interpretive and I will at every possible opportunity rub my grubby little aroace hands all over that shit. This is also gonna get long so here’s a read more

Okay so first off, let me just exclude the following songs from this interpretation simply because they are exactly as they appear: The End, Dead!, Welcome to the Black Parade, Sleep, Teenagers and Blood. I can’t find anything to really psychoanalyse in this regarding the aroace experience so much as they are about the emo experience. And also, as a heads up, I feel this may teter more into aromantic interpretation than asexual simply because that’s how I roll, baby.

Let’s start with ‘This Is How I Disappear’, there’s something in here that strikes me as ‘coming to terms with being aroace Very Badly’, that first onset of panic when you realise ‘oh crap, I’m not allo’. I didn’t have the ‘hell yeah no sexual/romantic attraction oh wait there’s a word for that?’ realisation often stated online, I was in a lot of denial, especially when I first started listening to this album.

The lines “And without you is how I disappear/and live my life alone forever now” really strikes this message to me. The gnawing sense of loneliness and isolation when you first realise that you’re not like everyone else, that ‘living a life alone’ is both what you want from life and dread, as an amatonormative society drills into every one of us that love and relationships is what makes us important in life, and without it we will simply disappear. The line hits home the pain of questioning, the horror of when you realise this is who you likely are before you can truly accept it. It’s not a pretty part of being aroace, it wasn’t for me, but it is an important one, and the lines always hit home to me in this era.

Added on to this is a sense of how we’re seen in media. Consider the line “Who walks among the famous living dead”. There’s a real push in amatonormativity that love and romance is what makes us human, what makes us alive, and without it, we’re not human. Therefore, by extension, the aromantic narrator is ‘not alive’ by these standards, nor is their community they’ve yet to find. This is also doubled down by the monster symbolism throughout the song; especially when I was younger, aromantic (and asexual) coded characters in media were always the bad guys, the monsters who could only be stopped by the unstoppable power of love; the narrator is lamenting how this part of themselves seems monstrous, evil to society, when really that isn’t true, and this evolves over the course of the album.

Let’s move on to The Sharpest Lives. This is less aroace specific, but it certainly seems like a downward spiral of the narrator, which carries on from the self-loathing of Disappear. There’s really only 1 line I want to talk about here: “Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands/Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo”. This is an obvious allusion to Romeo and Juliet, but it turns on its head the usual story of Romeo and Juliet being in love; Juliet doesn’t love Romeo, she just loves the beat, and Romeo is taking it too far. This speaks to another experience, not exclusive to aromantics, but definitely strongly felt in it, when someone misinterprets the relationship or your feelings and tries to push for romance when all you wanted was a good time. I had an awful experience of this myself, so I’m claiming this one for the aroaces.

(As an aside, I got into MCR around the same time we did Romeo and Juliet at school, so imagine little me, not knowing she’s aroace and sick to death of talking about romance at school and hearing this line. To say I lost my shit was an understatement. I ADORE that line.)

Next up is ‘I Don’t Love You’. I’ve talked about this one before on my blog, but this is the song that really gives it away to me that this album is very strongly catered towards aroaces. “But it’s a break up song!” No, it’s not, if you look at it from the correct angle. Also I’ve gone to further lengths with other break up songs so try me bitches (See: Love Drunk by Boys Like Girls being about disregarding amatonormativity rather than breaking up with someone. It’s so damn obvious too)

Here’s the short of it: I Don’t Love You is actually about falling out with a friend because you had entirely different ideas as to what it was you wanted from your relationship. The aro narrator wants it to remain friends; they’re happy with where they are, and doesn’t want it to change. The other ‘person’ in the song is alloromantic, and wants it to become a romantic relationship. The most important line for this is the most important line in the song: “When you go, would you even turn to say, I don’t love you like I did yesterday”. Let’s focus on the word choice here: ‘Like I did yesterday’. When allos talk about love, they talk about the amount; if this was about falling out of love, it would reflect that, that the other person in the song loves them less, not differently. The narrator is lamenting that their friend no longer loves them as a friend; the friend’s view of love has changed, they love them romantically, and less as a friend as a result, and the narrator’s insistence on remaining friends has highlighted this.

What’s more, I don’t think this is the first time the narrator has gone through this. Admittedly, I misheard one of the lines for years and I insist the line is “Another time was just another blow” but I’m not American so we don’t have dollars, and this is about me and my interpretation of the album so we’re in this ride together and I’m driving so lets do this. The song is very pained, you can hear it in Gerard’s voice, and there’s so little about the pain of losing a friend, especially when they wanted romance from you, that this song really speaks to.

What really gets me though is how the narrator is clearly still struggling with being aroace too. Let’s consider the line “Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading”. The narrator clearly isn’t at ease with their identity yet; maybe they wish they could keep their friend, but their placing their boundaries down, even though its costing a friend. These boundaries are important, and its important for our friends to respect them too. And listening to, and singing along to, this song really makes me proud for the narrator in a sort of self-love kind of way when you couldn’t love yourself.

Final matter on this song: the narrator still thinks of them as a friend, which is tearing the narrator apart. Yes, the line “Don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay” might make you think differently, but I believe that’s the narrator setting their boundaries; they’re not going to become an item just to please their friend and make them stay. Instead lets look at “Better get out while you can”. The narrator sees that their different views on the relationship is incompatible, and suggests they ‘fall out’ before their friend gets too caught up, and the rejection pains them both even more.

Now for House of Wolves. Not a long to say on this one, but I see it as being about media and ace exclusionists. See, the song flips between another character seeing the narrator as an angel and as a sinner simultaneously; just as how the media depicts asexual/aromatic/aroace people as non-human, that our sexuality (or lack thereof) makes us incomplete (the sinner aspect), while exclusionists say that we must be loved by the same media (and by religion too) for being aspec (the angel aspect). The song flip flops between them very rapidly, a state of confusion that felt very poignant for me when I was questioning in the height of the ace discourse.

Okay Mama is just here not for interpretation but because my English teacher once told us to analyse songs for her to mark as revision for exams and she loves long songs and kept making us analyse them so I analysed Mama and handed that in and got an A*. So Mama said AroAce rights that day.

Disenchanted is another strange one, filled with lines that mean more to aroace interpretation than the song itself. It spoke to me most when I was on my year out, having failed to get into uni despite good grades, still struggling with coming to terms with being aromantic, and dealing with severe anxiety. All in all, it was a year of disenchantment. It’s a good song. So what about an aroace interpretation?

The main thing about the song seems to be pretending to be someone you’re not. And really, when talking with family who expect you to be allo, how can you be anything but? I was told in this time that ‘Girls only go to university to find a husband’, which is many levels of wrong, but that thought always sticks in my head with this song. Moreover, I always think of break up songs with the line “You’re just a sad song, with nothing to say”, because they ARE just sad songs with nothing to say; and yet we’re expected to love them, because it’s a universal experience. There’s never been nothing to them.

But really, the line “I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree, so I can watch all my heroes sell a car on TV” is what really spoke to me. You spend school years being told that these people are sexy, you’ll want romance one day, and you have to agree or we’ll bully you mercilessly for it. The kids at school knew who was aroace before they knew what aroace meant. And we grow up watching heroes we relate to on TV, the fantastic loners who don’t need a significant other, only for fandom and the shows themselves to pair them up, make them “sell cars on tv” and sell out what made them special to us. And it hurts. And this song reflects that so well. In this song, the narrator is reflecting back on the years lost by hating themselves, slowly coming to terms with being aroace.

And finally, Famous Last Words. This is the real tipping point where the narrator feels comfortable with themselves, and finally confronts the friend from ‘I Don’t Love You’. The song is sung by one person, yes, but it feels like a dialogue between the friend, who still wants to hold a romantic relationship with the narrator, and the narrator who’s finally had enough. The introduction is from the friend, their thoughts on the narrator and how they know that they’re not going to win, but maybe they can make them feel bad for it “But where’s your heart?”, the friend is accusing the narrator of being heartless for being aromantic. But here’s the thing:

The narrator’s accepted who they are. “Well is it hard understanding? I’m incomplete.” The narrator accepts that they’re aroace, that to the friend, they are different, they don’t experience romance. The pain that they felt in the first few songs, of being the living dead and disappearing, makes them feel incomplete still, but they’re finally secure with being aroace enough to declare that, while they aren’t fully there yet, “I am not afraid to walk this world alone.” The narrator knows who they are, and they’re no longer afraid of it. Even when the friend tries to backpedal “Honey if you stay I’ll be forgiving” the narrator knows that the friend isn’t worth the pain anymore “Nothing you can say can stop me going home.”

That’s also why the lines about ‘love’ in this song are so important too. “A love that’s so demanding I can’t speak” “A love that’s so demanding, I get weak”. The narrator is explaining that, for them, romance is demanding; it’s not easy, and it’s not worth it for them, it’ll tire them out. The first quote can also speak of their friendship now; it’s so demanding, the narrator feels that if they stay, they may not be able to speak up for themselves any more. They have to friend break up, for both of their wellbeings.

And finally, the last verses “Awake and unafraid, asleep or dead” is the final attempt at kicking the narrator, harking back to “the famous living dead”. But the narrator refutes it by insisting that they’re not afraid to be alone anymore. And the song ends with the narrator winning, leaving the friend for good, for a better life.

And that’s the aroace interpretation of Black Parade.

And it’s 2200 words long fuck

#my chemical romance #the black parade #aroace #aromantic #asexual #You should've asked me why I can headcannon every video game character as aroace instead its shorter #Well all except the sims 2

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fandomn00blr · 4 years

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It’s Thursday again! And boy howdy do I have lots of things that I should have thrown away a long time ago. Tagging @funkypoacher again, because we have an understanding 😉. Also tagging eranehn@parera-zuul-jar, @zuendwinkel, @johaeryslavellan, @convenientcoma, @grumpkinvicky, @serial-chillr, @paraparadigm, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @factorykat, @pinkfadespirit, @barbex, @ginnyq, @lostinfantasies38, @elveny, @kunstpause, and anyone else who has something that they never finished or cut from a WIP but couldn’t quite get rid of! Feel free to use the banner if you want!

I dug way deep this week, to the very first DA fic-type thing I ever wrote down (and have subsequently never shared with anyone because it’s just that good). I may have mentioned before that I started playing Dragon Age games when I was pregnant (now it’s a theme, I guess), and I started with Inquisition, so I apologize to the entire fandom for what I’m about to share...

Without further ado, here’s a fade-preggo SolAdaar/SerAdaar? baby shower situation at Skyhold (under a cut because I warned you...also, it’s pretty long):

“I know that I am incredibly popular now that I am the size of my own war nug, but at least one of you has to shove off and mingle before Josephine throws a fit.”

Solas only reinforced his dutiful stance at Adaar’s side, planting his feet, and clasping his hands together behind him, looking as immovable as a statue in his determination to stay.

“Hey, I’m following the rules for once. I’m on the schedule! At least, I think…” Sera turned pleadingly toward Dorian.

“Oh, but I really wanted to be a part of this adorable love triangle...er, quadrangle?” He winked at Solas, who met this gesture with the same stoney glare. “Very well, then. If you need me, I’ll just be entertaining your guests in the library upstairs.”

As Dorian strode away from them to break up some of the group of Orlesians that had surrounded Cullen, an unfamiliar masked visitor approached.

“Inquisitor Adaar, may I introduce myself? I was expecting a formal pronouncement in the reception hall, as is the custom in Orlesian society, but I see this is not Orlais.”

Sera made no attempt to hide her eye roll as she let out a loud audible sigh. Solas tensed slightly at his accusatory tone, but his facial expression remained unchanged as he stared out over the hall.

“I am sorry you were disappointed, friend. What is your name and your relationship to the Inquisition?” Adaar was the only one of them who even pretended to have any manners. Such was the burden she had to bear, she supposed, as she felt the other burden kicking at her insides.

“Oh, another unfamiliar custom, but I will take it as an honor that you call me your ‘friend.’ My name is Etienne de Beaulieu. My family was one of the first that Lady Montilyet asked to aid your cause in the Exalted Plains after Haven fell.”

“Well then, you are indeed a friend to the Inquisition. Thank you.”

“Excuse my boldness, Inquisitor, but perhaps you can settle a great mystery circulating throughout the lands.”

“Probably not. Solving mysteries is really not one of my skills.”

“This mystery pertains almost exclusively to you.”

“Even more reason I probably won’t be able to solve it!” She laughed, trying to mask her discomfort as the thing inside her did some kind of somersault into her bladder. How many knees and elbows could it possibly have?

This was, of course, not how these conversations were meant to go according to the extensive books on Orlesian etiquette that Josephine had provided her. Again, she found she just didn’t care. Her house, her rules, after all.

The other man, however, seemed perplexed that she was not willing to answer his questions with questions and go round and round until they both believed that the other had confirmed what the other had wanted to hear without actually saying anything.

“Well, I…”

“Oh just ask her your friggin question!” Sera blurted out.

“This is quite a departure from what I am used to.”

“I’m sorry, Etienne. But you will find that we are all quite terrible at the art of Orlesian conversation here. Please, just tell me, what do you want to know?”

“Well, there are many rumors, many speculations.”

“About?” Solas was growing impatient with this conversation as well, especially once he realized where it was headed.

“The parentage of the...child...growing inside of the Inquisitor.”

Solas shot Adaar a quick look, as if to warn her to be careful about her answer or retreat entirely from the conversation. Maybe she would need to use some of her conversation lessons, after all.

“Parentage? Well, I am clearly the mother.” She chuckled again, though it sounded far more strained this time. She didn’t know whether or not to play coy, pretend she didn’t know, or to turn and embrace Solas and loudly declare him the father of their mysterious Fade baby right there in front of the whole hall to dispel any other possible speculations.

As if he could read her mind, he shook his head just enough for her to notice, a thin smile across his lips as his eyes continued to stare out in front of him.

“Many fear that it could be the Tevinter Altus you have taken as a companion.”

This broke the spell of uncertainty that had suddenly made her pause and she burst out into deep, genuine laughter. This young, inexperienced nobleman had just given her the perfect out.

“Ah, Dorian Pavus? He is of high standing within the Imperium. Would the Orlesian nobility object to this match?”

Sera was pretending to puke behind her, an effective discourse strategy that somehow was not mentioned in any of the Orlesian handbooks she had read.

“I believe it would be quite the scandal, Inquisitor, to have the spiritual figurehead of the Inqusition, a Qunari at that, matched with a Tevinter of any standing,” he explained with the condescending patience of one who thought he was speaking to an imbecile. “But then, we hear other rumors, too...”

“Well, you may find the answers you seek in the Library, Monsieur de Beaulieu, but for now, I must bid you adieu.” Adaar felt the sudden petty rush of winning, however unconventionally, this small part of The Game, and her attempt at an ‘adieu’ was a bold show of chutzpah. Plus, it rhymed.

“Not that it’s important in the least, but it’s pronounced, ‘ad-yoo’...” He dared to try to get the last word with a pronunciation lesson? He truly was new to this.

“‘Frig you, nob!’ is how I actually pronounce it,” Sera announced, rather loudly, moving towards the nobleman menacingly.

He took a few steps back, realizing this was as much as he was going to get from the Inquisitor on this matter, and Solas shook his head at them, a broader smile creeping across his face as he looked down at Adaar’s swelling ankles.

“It is natural that they are curious, but I think you were wise not to declare the truth in front of everyone,” he murmured, once Sera had chased the man out of earshot.

“I wouldn’t have --” Adaar began to protest, but Solas turned and tilted his head at her with that infuriating smugness. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting me some cake?!” she demanded.

#dragon age #throwaway thursday #adaar #solas #sera #baby shower #please don't ask me how this happened #the answer is always magic #does this count as crack fic?#i sure hope so #melihan adaar

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phantom-of-decadence · 4 years

Text

God Forbid & the Devil Fears // Chapter One \\

Fandom: Hannibal (TV series)

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Will’s Dogs, Mischa (mentioned) - more to be added

Pairing(s): Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

Summary of Entire Works: Moving from town to town is exhausting work to keep your face hidden and your hobbies going, but it's worth it to find that crushing high

Hannibal drags himself all over the country, following specific people to kill and following a strict set of rules he laid for himself, struggling to keep his blood lust under wraps.

He soon finds himself in dreary town called Oak Creek and coming face to face with a local who is too curious for his own good.

Albeit, he intrigues Hannibal too, but he is left to wonder if he wants to kill the local or treat him like a delicate rose, blooming in winter's chrysalis...

Warnings: Blood, gore, description of death, murderous thoughts, hunting, pretentious language

Wordcount: 5,514

Tags: AU!No cannibalism, AU!Bookshop Will, AU!Righteous Hannibal, other tags to be added, Will is autistic, pining, angst, gay panic, subtle flirting, eventual smut, fluff, fluff/comfort, pet names, gay thoughts, hunting, hannibal is the scruffy one, so is will but he has standards for fuckssake, hannibal tries to be polite, he is still a murderer though,

A/N: Because we all fucking love putting religion where it doesn’t belong. Also I tentatively made Will on the autistic spectrum ((I will be doing my best to portray autism correctly and read up on it, please let me know if things need to be fixed. I want to do this right))

The POV is not set in stone, I just wanted to open it with something different, going between first person and second was very interesting and I hope it gives insight on characters. So I will likely switch it to third if the next chapter gets written, or keep it like this. IDK, its a toss up

The title will become so relevant later

Towns all look the same, especially when they were all small and in the middle of nowhere.

I move between them often, just stay long enough to admire my handiwork and then I move on for my next target. Leaving what I had done behind me, before they could figure out who had done it.

Where was the fun in being found?

I try not to show my face in the towns I grace, I play a guise that I am visiting friends, family, relations or on my way to see them.

So I stop in a place to rest, a sleepy village that hides a monster. It’s only for a few days at most, I hardly ever eat in a restaurant unless I am stalking, or I get something quick to sate my hunger. And even then, my stomach will not settle for it.

In all the towns I visit, I find nothing to delight in besides the people that they hold within them, those who have not properly answered for their crimes. They walk among the others with their shoulders unburdened and their minds dark, on the prowl for their next victim, warily searching.

Their faces and names, dragged through the mud and branded traitors to mankind and humanity. Some were even locked up and away from the humanity they tried to destroy. Those creatures were the sloppy and messy, only focused chasing the high.

Others I knew, were more careful, calculated and didn’t get caught, didn’t get their due even though they left carnage in the wake of their high.

I knew that high, I craved it. Like all of them.

The high was something that I couldn’t live without.

Was it an addiction?

Maybe.

I never really thought about calling it an addiction, it was a desire to me. Something I could control, something that I had strength over.

An addiction is an urge that had power over its victim.

I would not let the blood lust that curled in my chest to control me, it tried to. Often times when I looked upon a face too soft for this world, too soft for this time.

I did not often give those rushing thoughts too much consideration in the long run, I knew that I should. When I have the time.

But I didn’t have the time, not now.

I was in a new place, looking for a new face, and finding a new desire.

All these towns looked the same.

They were all sleepy, with aimless people wandering the streets. Disguised in neutral colors, abandoned effects, cobblestones and dirt roads.

Diners, mom&pop shops, locals and hardly hints of modern urbanization. Everyone knew everyone, and they didn’t take kindly to an unkind face they have never seen before.

So you have to smile, blend in, pretend you’re one of them - normal, at least; but on the inside you are screaming endlessly and desperately craving for a rushing, dizzy high. A desperation to see red dripping from a wound you made on their exposed throat as their tongue wagged with senseless words, and to the look of shock and stunned silence on the faces of those that surrounded you, the face in front of you.

The thought of it made my mouth water, my hands shake with anticipation on the steering wheel, and my chest crushed with a weight, like I had been sunk deep in the dark depths and been made to stay there, the pressure choking excited gasps from my lungs until I was drowned by the waves of the ocean.

These are the moments where I was powerless, the crescendo of my high - when euphoria rolled through me in waves, and I lost all sense of control.

It hardly ever reached that point, outside of the smooth slide of my knife against uneven skin.

This town was different. I could feel it the moment I drove past the sign that welcomed me into Oak Creek, or perhaps it was just the sinking unease that trickled through me like an impeded stream when I saw the deteriorating sign of that godforsaken fast food restaurant that so many people fattened themselves at.

It’s yellows and reds well faded over time in this dusty little village that didn’t see fit to continuously update it.

I would’ve considered this place abandoned with its looming and dark buildings that were worn with the years of neglect; but Oak Creek’s residents seemed none too concerned about the gloomy haze and bitter cold that rolled over the sky, holding a threat of snow over them.

They didn’t care. They continued to roam the streets, all bundled in fleece coats. It was almost admiral how people in this dreary town continued their aimless patterns in the cold.

The drive past the buildings and to the motel was a short one, on a winding road that dodged small, nestled grey shacks that remained under maintained.

When I came upon the motel, I took note of how well it fit in well with the rest of Oak Creek with a tilt of my head; sleepy and cold and deteriorated, like the rest of the town.

The roof and grounds covered in a fresh blanket of snow, the dark wooden structure was sparse from decoration, save for a sign that read the name of the motel which I barely registered in the back of my mind.

It was the only lodgings in town, after all.

I slowed my car to a stop in front of the motel, turning it off and slowly resting back against the leather seat as I watched the dreary outside in order to collect my thoughts in a neat line.

I began to wonder why those I stalked, kept to themselves in small towns that were underpopulated. Where people are unlikely to speak about the acts they witness or the people that pass through, because they knew better than to talk about other people’s business.

If my prey wanted a chance, then why not find a populated city?

They would be more likely to be found by someone that wasn’t me, perhaps it was the assumption that small towns like Oak Creek didn’t care. And they didn’t, they kept their nose out of private matters unless it concerned the community directly.

But, I like to think my prey enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of the chase.

Mutual respect, perhaps?

Make it easy to dispose of putrid waste?

Kind of them.

Why do towns exist, little places like these, without much foot traffic or tourism? How do they make their income, how do they willingly feed off of one another and fight their neighbor for profits?

How do they justify it?

Do they?

Or is it something unspoken, untold and unfixed?

No tourist attraction, no myths, legends or killers.

That they knew of.

Towns like this surely had no discourse to them, they were a still lake who never had its surface disturbed by wind, leaf or rock. Intentional or not.

Where was the vibration of enjoyment?

These thoughts careened in my head as I left the warmth of my car and made a hasty entrance into the motel, I feigned a smile as I stepped up to the desk to obtain my key from them, “I’m just passing through, on my way for a baby shower.”

I answered the desk clerk’s invasive questions in a polite manner as they tried to get to know me, a brief guest in a drizzle of visitors.

What was behind the urge to know everyone in these dwellings?

Could I consider it all basic politeness that was due to every human?

They couldn’t possibly know what I was by a singular glance. They were simply ordinary.

I would only be here for only three days at the most, that’s how long it would take. To find him, his pattern and then drag him out of his dwellings and gut him like the senseless and cowardly pig he was.

I almost felt guilty for comparing him to a pig; pigs had more character than this man.

Though, I suppose he wasn’t entirely senseless, he moved often from his crimes, never got caught and made his killings few and far between.

This time, he made an error, he slipped up. Stayed for too long to revile in the chaos that was created, he got a little sloppy. He still retained more intelligence than half of the detectives and pawns for the FBI hunting him, because he crawled away, right under their noses.

He couldn’t crawl away from me, I found him and he didn’t even know.

Yet.

My routine began when I was handed my key and directed to my room.

Once I entered the ‘cozy dwellings’ as described by the advertising, I put the “do-not disturb” sign on the doorknob. Some previously have considered it peculiar how much I value the privacy and discretion in my life.

If they were inside of my skin, shared my experiences, they would understand. A man who soaked their hands in red does not leave hand prints on others uninvolved in their crimes.

I scoured the room, began to measure and map it in my mind. I sat my travel bag down by the bed before I eased myself onto the creaking mattress, listening for how thin the walls were, how much sound would enter and escape.

I could hear the sounds from the road outside of these lodgings; it was mostly silent, no cars rumbling by. Everything was within walking distance, so I understood that people didn’t use gas unless it was completely unavoidable.

No sounds on the road, not many people milling around. No cacophony of noise to cover up the wails of a dying man, questions would be raised.

It couldn’t be here.

I knew the home address of the man I was hunting, I knew a lot about him.

I made that my job to know him, all of his names that changed from town to town and crime to crime; his given name was Peter Martin, not a name that stuck out in a long list of names that the devil keeps.

I wondered why he never kept his name as it was given, too mundane perhaps? Did he want to strike terror into the hearts of others with a frightening name?

Peter Martin would not be giving me that answer, that wouldn’t be the question I was asking him.

I needed to go to his home and watch him, establish his pattern the way a bee would every single day, a drone existing to serve a queen. Existing to serve the chance that a high would be waiting for him around the corner.

Despite having just arrived to my room, I was ready to venture out into the frigid ghost town.

The prospect of a hunt, of a chase - the temptation and soft promise that I would get that depth crushing high in a manner of three days time, was enough for me to rise from my bed and leave the warmth of my lodgings behind.

The sooner I was able to map out Oak Creek, the sooner my hunt could begin and I could move on to the next deserved high.

I stood, staring down my own reflection in the mirror that sat above the desk, trying to assure myself that I looked like one of them.

With the plaid scarf tucked tightly around my neck, leather gloves on my hands, and knit cap pulled down over my ears, I looked less of a killer than what I actually was.

You cannot help feeling what you are in your soul; but for a brief moment of peace, your mind can let you forget what you actually are.

In the end, when it truly matters most, you will always know what you are in the darkest parts of yourself.

I closed the door behind me, taking care to ensure that the “do-not-disturb” sign was on before I left the premise; though left nothing incriminating in my room. I kept that with me, at all times.

Then again, I was a fond of using whatever was within reach of my hands when it came to achieving my high.

Some considered it resourceful, when I used a “Live~Laugh~Love” wooden poster to nearly sever the head of an escaped child rapist. He had struggled too much, knocked the knife from my grip. That was the closest thing I could reach.

The snow crunched under my boots as I trudged along the slate sidewalk that led from the motel and into a graying Oak Creek, it was mostly empty save for a couple dressed in brown and tan winter clothing, too wrapped up in each other to notice that they had passed me.

I didn’t have the desire to quirk the corners of my mouth up when our eyes met for a singular second, I knew my gaze was emotionless and empty even if they didn’t register it, I did.

I found difficulty to fit warmth in my features unless I had reason to do so, a reason that would hopefully benefit me in the end, and people in love is not a reason to show warmth.

We passed each other and that was the end of it.

I passed several stores in the area, none of which I took too much note of. Save for a diner, I would need to eat, after all.

The sky was still as grey and callous, if not more so, from the time I arrived.

Dark skies settled over the horizon, assuring to bring fresh snow and harsh winds that burned my nose and cast tears in my eyes trying to see past the frigid breeze.

I never particularly cared for winter, it was too bitter and gloomy.

Only one aspect of winter was appeasing to me, it was the whiteness of the snow. How undisturbed it fell, the way it gently kissed the earth and how it looked when red spattered over it.

I enjoyed writing my love notes to the earth on pure white.

I continued down the sidewalk for a few minutes longer to take everything in, but I soon found myself looking up at a wooden sign above a shop that read, “Pages and Pawprints, a collection of books and friendly faces to keep you company”.

I don’t exactly remember what called me towards the cobblestone store that was more window than it was building, but I turned my attention to it fully. It looked almost completely desolate, but I approached it all the same as curiosity drove me more than logic.

I knew I shouldn’t be showing my face too much in Oak Creek, thankfully satisfaction brought the curious cat, back from the dead.

I opened the glass door, trying not to notice how the handle was shaped in a dog’s paw; I was instantly greeted by the sound of a bell ringing and a couple of subdued barks from dogs laying down, near a couple of tables and chairs.

My eyes were drawn to the six dogs lying on multiple beds that had been provided for them, they were all of different size and color and all eyes were locked onto me.

Subtly, I wondered what I had been expecting? The owner of this store was clearly infatuated with canines and their hair, whereas, I was not. I considered turning around and leaving, though something kept me there.

Perhaps it was the warmth in contrast to the outside, I paused to loosen my scarf and unzip my jacket. I left the knit cap on, however.

The door closed behind me, ringing out the chime of a bell once more just to announce that I was still there, deciding against the thought to leave.

My gaze remained on the dogs for a second more, but none moved to greet me. I allowed my eyes to wander until I found a man sitting behind a mahogany desk. The only one who wasn’t looking at me, but at the computer in front of him.

I moved in his direction, searching for a conversation, these trips got lonely. Save for the people I gutted; I still valued conversation I could have with people who wouldn’t remember me.

“Hello.” The smile on my lips was immediate as I got close enough to study you.

Your hair was dark and unkempt, tousled, forgotten about. Designed by the way you slept, heavy and slicked in sweat from what I can only assume was nightmares, if Oak Creek was always this cold.

Your head tilted up to acknowledge me, the slightest quirking of your pink lips in response to my spoken word, yet you made no move to respond to me.

Your face was almost the same as your hair, unkempt stubble and a sheen of dampness on your forehead, dark circles under your eyes. Which refused to look up at me.

Your blue eyes didn’t settle, they looked everywhere but at me, darting around in that pretty little skull of yours. Trying to lock on something in your shop that would ground you.

I could smell a lot coming off of you. Most notably, that stink of an aftershave that made me want to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I resisted the urge because I smelled another thing rolling off of you, blatant apprehension of my person.

It would’ve strung my chest with hurt, if I cared in that way.

A quick glance to your hands, in your lap now, were shaking and fidgeting in a looped pattern, told me this is what you were always like with new people.

You got sensory overload quickly, when it came to humans, and their noises, and their energy... you liked your dogs though. That much I could see when your gaze rested on them for once.

I wanted to push you a little bit, I wanted to stare at you and make you squirm with the weight of my gaze until your heart was racing, make you talk to me and answer my buggering questions...

At least I thought I wanted to do that. To test you, see how far you would go.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t find it within myself to do any of that.

I turned my body, my dark and unnerving gaze away from you, and looked into your store to try and figure out the purpose of it really was; dark bookshelves, assortments of books that were organized by color, it looked like.

The walls were a deep maroon and had pictures of people and their dogs hanging from it, small plaques here and there.

I found myself smiling at the ensemble, despite the disdain I held for animal hair - it seemed to complete the look. The shop was neatly kept, it was something you were proud of, something you were deeply passionate about.

I could feel your eyes on my when I turned my back to you, curiously studying the way I held myself and what I wore, too many layers for a local.

Turning my back to people wasn’t something I would consistently do to strangers, but I knew you had no reason to hurt me, that was the last thing you were capable of.

“What are you here for?” You asked me, finally speaking. Your voice was raspy and soft but baritone in your chest, you sounded hesitant to speak because you didn’t know who I was, and I wanted to keep it like that.

To protect you, to protect myself more.

I knew that you were used to the people in your town, you were used to a pattern that repeated itself and I disrupted it. So you were cautious and tiptoeing around me, as if you could sense what I was.

I had to assure myself that you didn’t.

I parted my lips to answer you, politely as my mind turned back to the thought of small town people wanting to know everything, “Nothing in particular, I was exploring town-”

“You’re not from around here.” You stated sharply, prompting me to incline my head over my shoulder to look at you with a brow raised. I was smiling even if you weren’t.

You looked away, apprehensive again.

I didn’t have the time to wonder why I smiled at you, what the reason was that benefited me but it brought a blossoming warmth to my chest.

“No, I’m just passing through. I thought I should find a couple of places to entertain me on my short visit.” I affirmed your suspicion of my ‘wayfaring stranger’ position.

“Oh,” You took a second to try and collect your thoughts before you spoke again, and something stutter in my beating chest as I faced you once more and saw the creases on your forehead, lips pulled into a taunt line as you considered how best to showcase the things you were passionate about.

Your blue plaid shirt was ruffled, coated in a layer of dog hair; pushed up past your forearms, revealing pale skin and faded scarring. You had left your thick jacket and scarf somewhere else, out of reach.

My fingers twitched by my side, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by my staring, but I wanted to touch your skin and inquire how your arms earned those stripes. I remained silent until you spoke.

“I have owned this shop for three years now and I have books imported from different countries and states, I don’t really put labels on what this space is... but you can buy the books, a-and take them home.

“Or you can read them here and put them back, s-sometimes I open it for crafts on certain day.” You explained to me, your eyes still darting around, a smile and a blush decorated your face. For a moment, you met my gaze before you were focusing on your dogs again, “My dogs are friendly as they can be, they like people and it functions as a safe space if anyone needs it.”

As I listened to you speak about your shop, I reflected a bit internally. I concluded that the safe space you spoke of was for you, mostly. You almost looked like you were refraining from telling me every last detail detail of your beloved dogs, you instead turned the topic elsewhere.

My mind turned towards myself after a beat, I wondered what this stuttering in my chest was; it wasn’t the weight that shackled me when a potential high presented it’s face to my keen eyes.

This was something else entirely, like my bones were made of air instead of tension. Hyper fixation sat heavy on my chest, the same way as when the blood lust dripped down my teeth, accompanying the urge hunt, the desire to know you, your soul, and everything under your skin. All of you.

My claws would flex with the want to sink into you and hold you still, only stare into your eyes, your entirety. I wanted to look you in the eyes and see who you really were, but I didn’t meet your gaze.

I followed it to the books, to the dogs.

This feeling was wrong. It wasn’t how I felt when the perfect prey was within the grasp of my talons; perhaps it was the desire of someone innocent, to see them bleeding.

I had not set my sights on innocence for the longest time.

I promised Mischa that I wouldn’t dig for innocent breath or blood, ever again; but these desires made feel stuck and powerless, rooted in one spot as your words tumbled through me.

I only ever knew one way of getting that power back, to take it away from someone else. I didn’t feel the need to take it back from you, I simply let you keep it... whatever made you feel comfortable with me.

I smiled, the corners of my eyes crinkling as you told me about the genres that you carried, several of which, I didn’t even care for.

You looked so enthused, a twinkle in your eye that mesmerized me, so I could only stand there and thank you, telling you that I would go get the books you recommended would entertain me for a spell.

I kept my eyes on you, watching as your face lit up, you smiled and laughed softly, fingers clasping together as if you were shy or astonished that someone would listen to you.

I found that absurd, everyone would listen to your voice if given the chance. I forced myself to look away from your face, I didn’t desire to make you crawl in your skin because of my piercing gaze; somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why that though struck my skull.

I thanked you again and left my place at the desk, carefully stepping around the many dogs that you owned, they simply thumped their tail on the ground and I feigned a smile to them. If only for your sake.

I disappeared behind on of the shelves so you could no longer see me, and the stutter in my chest slowed down, if only just a bit while I scoured the sections to find ‘drama’, ‘mystery’ and ‘historical fiction’, neatly bunched together.

I could consider these few genres the absolute last thing I wanted to read, but... I was going to grab the books and bring them to you anyway.

I wish my mind would give me a rational answer to why this trembling like a newborn fawn, and sudden airiness of a bird made of feathers came to me.

I should’ve left the store when I had the chance.

This wasn’t the blood lust that coiled within me when hunting my perfect prey, the urge then was unfiltered rage, animistic and primal. The desire to maim as best I could while, keeping my identity restricted at the same time.

This fawn is something else that I don’t know how to care for, a different breed of blood lust that sat on my chest. I knew I would have to do a dissection on myself. I could feel it in the back of my mind, the terror of not being in control of my own emotions.

Mischa in the back of my mind, repeating the words I had said to her, the promise I made to my sister so long ago.

I sighed, defeated, as my hands pulled the four books you recommended, off the shelf and held them in my hands, close to my chest before making my way back to you.

The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Murder on the Oriental Express, The Song of Achilles and of course, Othello. Excellent choices if I were another creature.

You glanced up at me as I came back, your eyes like a lamb’s, wide and curious.

You took a second to look me over as I walked, taking me in as a whole and not a part; I was like a Victorian schoolgirl for a beat, embarrassed I had been caught bathing by the boys as they glanced in awe at me.

I wanted to clothe myself in white satin to hide prying eyes; but in a second beat, I was aware that I was fully clothed and dressed for winter in this dreary town of Oak Creek, standing in front of you.

Nowhere close to what my mind’s eye provided me.

It was jarring to say the least, I almost faltered in my movements under your vision.

Your scrutiny lasted for less than five seconds, eyes finally returning to your computer screen, waiting for me to set the books down on the desk so you could ring up the price.

I didn’t even want these books in the first place, yet you looked joyous that they were in my arms, “I recommend, if you read anything, read The Song of Achilles first, before you leave town...”

You seemed to hesitate on what you wanted to say next, twitchy fingers collecting the books and stacking them neatly, “No-one ever wants to discuss the meaning of it, both within the book or the actual myth.”

You left it open ended, for me. My eyes locked on your wrist, skin pale and almost ashen, and your long fingers stimming below it.

I knew what you wanted, what I was made you curious the same way I had been when I first slunk into your shop. You wanted to find out more about the stranger in your building, like everyone else in Oak Creek.

But you were more forward about it.

“I can come in the day after tomorrow.” My lips parted and my mouth spoke before my mind could finally catch up and remind myself... what rules I was breaking by even offering such an absurd thing.

I blinked, my first solution was to stay away from you, to fight this stutter in my chest and whatever craving I had for an innocent’s blood. If this even was a craving.

I answered your unspoken question and you were a deer in headlights because I gave you exactly what you wanted, you slowly looked up at me, your curls brushed loosely over your forehead and your fingers twitched in uncertainty.

“If you want to talk about the book,” I continued, knowing there was no way I could step back now with my dignity and your feelings intact.

My voice was strained like something was strangling me when I spoke - something invisible to you, but completely seen to me, “I enjoy a lively discussion from time to time.” I offer so it wouldn’t be worse than it was, but I don’t believe it helped the situation.

You stared at me, mouth agape while my chest sunk to the depths against my wishes; then your lips twitched into a smile, “Okay... it’s nice to speak to new people.” Your voice was soft as you accepted my invitation that you prodded from me.

My throat tighten in response, I wanted to verbally agree with you even if I didn’t believe it, I nodded instead to you. I offered to speak with you even though I knew I shouldn’t, I had prey to stalk, catch and gore.

I had to dissect this stumbling fawn inside of me.

Where would I find the delicate time to speak to you?

And why did the thought of not getting the chance, fill my lungs with inescapable breath?

The sooner I left this village and claimed my prize, the sooner I would feel normal again.

I always hated the winter, things were always different and difficult, the ground refused to let things rot no matter how long they had been there.

The amount I owed you for the books I didn’t even want, tumbled from your mouth to distract my thoughts, and I hastily dug into my pockets, pulling out a wad of cash and thrusting it over to you. I hadn’t been listening to you at this point, I just wanted out of this store to cool my buzzing mind.

I needed to retreat from the public and your eyes.

“It’s only twenty-one ninety,” your voice broke through my fog, confusion an undertone in your soft voice.

I blinked in an attempt to get my head right, before I took the money you offered back to me, wanting the right amount because you were a small store who couldn’t cash a hundred dollar bill.

“Oh, my apologies.” I ran through the notes, finding as close as it could get to the total, giving thirty dollars back to you, “Keep the rest.” I struggled out while I gathered my books in my arms and turned for the door.

My pathetic attempt to get away in a haste as if a hunter was on my bleeding trail, though your voice cut me short like a gunshot in a silent forest, “I’m Will, by the way.”

I stopped, my gloved hand on the handle to the door.

I took one moment to look back at you, your cheeks blushing pink and lips turned upward in the smallest smile as you forced yourself to watch me for my reaction.

I let out a shaky breath, preparing myself to break yet another a rule that I set many years previous to keep myself and innocents safe... did it even matter now?

“I’m Hannibal, it’s nice to meet you, Will.”

“Likewise.” You responded immediately, leaving me with your parting smile and I quickly took my leave of Pages and Pawprints, heading back the way I came from, back to my motel where I could brood over the interaction that just passed. Dissect this new, tumbling fawn

I furiously growled under my breath as I walked through the cold, books pressed tightly to my chest and the lingering scent of that horrible aftershave from you, following me all the way to the supposed comfort of my room.

I needed a kill to get you off of my mind.

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pluviophile-bookworm · 5 years

Text

Thoughts/ reaction to AWAE 3x5

The cold open featuring Beekeeper Gilbert is the golden content I never knew I needed.

Miss Stacy teaching in the midst of nature is gold, but what draws my attention in that scene is the casual mentioning of the birds and the bees that causes half of the girls to get agitated at the thought that they’re finally getting the talk. I see bees are a recurring image in this episode. I admit to not having seen much of this particular scene as I was looking away from the blood.

Gilbert combining his natural talent as a doctor and his new… I wanna say hobby, that is, beekeeping, to help poor baby Ruby is gold. Seriously, this episode has GOLD written all over it in large bold letters and we’re barely 4 minutes in.

“I thought someone died…” The natives calling out the Whites™ for being drama queens have me wondering whose side I am on, and whether there are any sides at all; the fact is, I tend to overreact a lot, but this was a bit too much even for me. But let’s not dwell on this, there are more important scenes coming up and I have already used way too many words.

Yeah… I skipped ahead a bit. The sight of that needle caused me as much horror as it did Moody.

Gilbert ranting about natural medicine not being taught is such a mood. I think taking up beekeeping will do (and is already doing) wonders for his career in medicine.

Rachel babysitting Delly is giving me such strong New Mum vibes… “Please go to sleep”. This is the Rachel Lynde content I never expected to see but I’m glad I did.

And then Delly falls asleep as soon as she hears Marilla’s voice… I’m crying.

“Bash needs a wife” – who are you to decide that for him, Rachel? I was already annoyed with her for trying to play matchmaker for Miss Stacy without being asked to, but this is even more. Marilla is such a mood in this scene.

Matthew being Soft™ to his plants… as if I needed any more proof that he’s a Hufflepuff!

I live and would die for Anne and Diana’s friendship.

I also live for Diana embracing her own feelings rather than her mother’s visions of what’s “proper” and “improper”. And for the hint of her doing it just partially to spite her mother…

Honestly, Gilbert staying inside and reading the paper with Miss Stacy while everyone else is fussing about the Take Notice board is so in character. It emphasizes the fact that he is actually the adult of the class. I wonder what would make him more interested in the board, though…

Anne the Feminist™ is fascinated about the female doctor

Ok, but… who gives Charlie, by “noticing” Anne, and Diana, by walking in on her and Gilbert almost having a moment, the right to interrupt said moment before it’s even fully developed?

Anne is totally me in her reaction to (1) being noticed and (2) the news about the dance.

“Sebastian, take a seat.” If I were Bash in that scene, I would be thinking “How about you stop telling me what to do in my own home?”

Now she wants to take Delly away from him? And she thinks that’s good for anyone? Seriously, Rachel Lynde should mind her own business. But I bet she has no business of her own, otherwise she wouldn’t obsess so much over what everyone else is doing.

Anne’s reaction to Charlie posting about her gives off “Belle Reprise” from Beauty and the Beast vibes.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Sloane!” Try Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Blythe instead. And boy, does this girl have a lot of last names! She’s becoming a bit like Hispanic royalty.

Both Jerry and Diana telling white lies to their friends so they can meet up – classic forbidden romance. I love it!

Look at my boy Jerry quoting Frankenstein! I feel like a proud mother – except, of course, for the fact that I am not a mother and I have no trace of merit in this beautiful achievement. Also, the way she holds the book to her heart, like it’s him, or at least a tiny part of him; and the way he looks back at her… I know this is a whole other fandom, but Andi Mack has taught me that lookbacks are important. My fragile little heart is melting! I might be aromantic by orientation, but I’m still a sucker for beautiful, poetic romantic scenes like this one. This is my new favourite scene of the entire series. If I could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day, oh how I would!

The scene of Gilbert and Bash talking about Mary being followed immediately by Matthew talking to Belle about her becoming a mum… I feel that they are a heartbreaking yet heartwarming representation of the cycle of life and death. Moira has done it again.

Also, Anne’s dress in this scene reminds me of the first dress she was wearing when she arrived. It’s a nice callback, if anything.

That scene of Diana reading in bed reminded me so much of me. I know that feeling so well, feeling a special connection to a book, even for some reason outside the book itself. And, sure, Frankenstein is far from the most romantic of books, but now it will forever be a thing between her and Jerry. And that’s in my opinion, is that special external connection to the book.

Aaand… Rachel Lynde didn’t just try to make the practice dance another matchmaking session for her son and Miss Stacy, did she?

I know everybody talks about Anne and Gilbert in this scene, but my eyes were more focused on my spirit animal Ruby – she is so me, being uncomfortable with the whole thing and the touching and whatnot… except in her it is the result of boys and girls being discouraged from making any kind of contact to one another until they’re old enough for courtship according to their community’s standards. What did people at that time think when they did that? That giving young people virtually no sex ed and doing anything and everything they could to keep boys and girls away from each other – did they think this is the way to raise functional, well-informed people? Because seeing poor Ruby here sure makes me think that her society didn’t do a very good job at that. And the fact that all the girls, even the ones that should pass as intelligent and well-read like Anne and Diana, believe they can get pregnant by just the touch of a boy is just another proof that this is not the way to raise teenagers.

One thing that calms me at least a little is that now they have Miss Stacy and she can, albeit a bit awkwardly at first, educate them on the matter. And I love the fact that she mentions consent because that is really important.

And there’s the sugar – the heart eyes, the longing looks, the held gaze… every single trope about looking at someone special is there in that one scene. I love the way they act so expressively with just their eyes. Seriously, kudos to Amybeth and especially Lucas.

Oh my, there it is! That scene from the preview that everybody has been speculating and freaking out about for weeks. I got literal chills, goosebumps and everything. This scene generated a lot of discourse and it was definitely not for nothing.

Oh my, oh my! The dance is done but they just won’t stop staring right into each other’s souls through those fantastically expressive eyes… I might just die right now, but at least I’ll die happy.

Aaand… the moment is gone and now there’s just tension and awkwardness so thick in the air that you could cut them with a knife – and a knife might not even do the job, if you get what I mean.

Ok, I didn’t think things could get any more awkward, but then we have the exchange with Charlie and it’s even more awkward than Moody telling Diana “[her] dress is very… blue” back in the season premiere. But this awkwardness is different. There’s no tension, no real chemistry. At least that’s how I see it.

The parallel between Anne and Gilbert cooking and ranting about the dance and its consequences for them counts as a Shirbert scene, right?

I love Anne with all my heart but right now I wish she could just go away for a second. She’s third-wheeling and making Diana act cold towards Jerry, which might give him the wrong impression and ruin everything…

Also, I wish Diana would confide in Anne about the thing she has going on with Jerry. It couldn’t possibly make matters worse, now could it?

If Jerry was so confused, and then so happy about the handkerchief, it probably wasn’t really his. It must have been left by Diana. The initials, though… the only J.B. in Diana’s family I can think of is Josephine. If it was hers and Diana left it for Jerry, it would be so nice… Ok, why am I being so stupid? She MADE it for him. Especially. J.B. is him and only him right now. Apparently certain other scenes have temporarily deprived me of the ability to think.

The “Is that how reproduction works” scene is awkward, of course, and it is a different, third kind of awkward: not like Shirbert after the dance or like Anne and Charlie after that. It’s that kind of awkward moments that people with anxiety like me think of when they can’t sleep at night. I mean, just imagine asking your big love to give you the talk. Or having to give the talk to them.

Ruby, Ruby, my sweet summer child Ruby… “what has he seen”? He’s literally delivered a child, for one. Unprepared, at that. But seriously, Gilbert being all like “in my medical experience” – okay, we get it, Mr. Mature Adult Doctor. No offense, though, I love him.

That obituary was just about the best homage they could have paid to Mary, and Bash reading the whole thing to Delphine was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Now that I use those two words for the second time in relation to Mary’s passing, I feel like these are the emotions I feel about it every time. Every single time.

Baby Delly is the most precious little thing I’ve ever seen.

The Barrys are finally doing something really good (I’m not saying they’re bad people or bad parents, just that they can be a little… stuck in their ways) by deciding to help Bash’s family now and realizing they have missed their chance of getting to know Mary while she was there and giving it to them. I sure hope they allow their daughters, both of them, to have the life they chose, not the one that was predetermined for them by parents and tradition and some twisted idea of class distinction and propriety. They deserve to be given that freedom.

The girls’ ritual was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. How empowering, how beautifully sacred, how emotionally pure and true. And Ruby finally accepted herself as a woman… I relate to that on a deep level because it was hard for me to accept the change from girl to woman when I was that age, too – not so long ago, really. The thing is, there is no real difference between a girl and a woman. I think each one should decide for herself which one she is, and we shouldn’t forget that we have both inside us at all times.

Oh my, oh my! This was honestly one of the most beautiful episode endings I’ve seen on this series and there have been a lot. This baby foal is one of the cutest things ever, a true embodiment of the miracle of life. How fascinating!

So, let’s sum up. In this episode, we saw: the importance of honey; lots of awkward teenage courting; Gilbert going back to medicine; Rachel Lynde sticking her nose into other people’s business even more than usual; Jerry and Diana’s beautiful forbidden romance and character growth; misconceptions about… conception; Shirbert – the whole spectrum of it: awkwardness, tension, angst, heart eyes, lost of eye acting in general; different kinds of awkwardness involving different people, but mostly Shirbert; girl empowerment; and last but not least, the circle of life. I was going to say I want more episodes like this one, but, frankly, I don’t think that’s possible. This was BEAUTIFUL!

#anne with an e #awae #awae season 3 #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #diana barry #jerry baynard #ruby gillis #shirbert #anne x gilbert #diana x jerry #jerry x diana #reaction #review #jnkpoetry #jnk poetry #long post #jnk watches awae

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natsubeatsrock · 4 years

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You Can Like Nalu. I Don’t.

I should just end this post here. I mean, this is obvious enough when an idiot like me says it like this. We're all allowed to like different things.

But, I've had the idea for this post in the back of my head for a while now after seeing a post addressed to the anti-Nalu crowd, which I guess I’m a part of. I actively avoided responding to that post for the longest time. I did it for so long it ended up not showing up.

But considering the recent re-ignition of the fight between the fandom that has people who thought borderline sexual harassment advanced their ship and the guy who thinks anyone who likes Nalu at all is automatically sub-human vermin, I feel like now is as good a time as ever to post this.

Nalu is the most popular ship in the Fairy Tail fandom, by far. Nothing even comes close. You can't go anywhere where Fairy Tail fans congregate and not see someone say something about Nalu and how it's a good ship and obviously going to be canon, how dare you not think otherwise. I remember seeing a prominent YouTuber imply the only reason some people stuck with Fairy Tail, even as the manga was ending and writing quality was dropping, was to see Natsu and Lucy get together. I'm worried by the fact that he has no idea how dead-on he was then and even is now with the sequel.

The idea that anyone or anything is going to change that would normally be seen as a pipe dream. Giant shipping fandoms have been shot down by canon and still haunt waters as ghost ships. Their fans are often the ones leading the charges against the writers and/or directors of shows, proud to dance over the corpse of a failed show and equally ready to lament the success of a show despite what they see as the flawed writing behind popular series they're talking about. Much of the time, listening to these types of fans reveals that they have a lack of understanding of what the series was or did that is disturbingly low for someone who willingly calls oneself a... stan. (Another rant for another day.)

With Nalu, it's near infinitely worse.

This is a ship whose fans took a panel of Natsu climbing out of a hole behind Lucy as a ship moment.

This is a ship whose fans I've seen argue that it's somehow a good thing that Natsu groping Lucy without her permission has become such a tired act because she's seemingly used to it.

This is a ship whose fans went from arguing that Natsu and Lucy explicitly confirming a romantic relationship is uncharacteristic of them after the last chapter of the original series to arguing they're in a kinky sexual relationship after two Twitter sketches in a matter of months.

A few years ago, I joked that Natsu could stab Lucy and fans would consider it romantic. If the END situation was proof enough of that, Natsu ended up burning Lucy in a chapter in the sequel earlier last year and people were sad it didn’t advance Nalu further. Excuse me for not liking this fandom.

I'm convinced there's nothing that Mashima could do to make Nalu lose favor with the majority of the fanbase. If that's the case with the writer of the actual series, there's nothing I or anyone else is going to be able to do to convince the vast majority of fans that their ship is bad. I'd even go so far as to say that nothing I've done or said has convinced a Nalu fan that their ship is bad and they should like another ship.

But here's the thing: I don't think it's wrong to be a Nalu shipper.

I don't think that you are an inherently worse person for simply liking the idea of Natsu and Lucy becoming a romantic couple. You're not going to hell for writing Nalu fanfiction or drawing Nalu art. I don't even think it's inherently bad that "Nalu shipper" is a term that can be used to describe the vast swath of people who follow Fairy Tail to any degree. While I think the stuff I've talked about in the past, even in this post, shows the worst of the Nalu fandom and that part is greater than many would like to admit, that doesn't mean I think all people in the Nalu fandom are bad.

At the same time, I am clearly not a Nalu shipper. I have never been a Nalu shipper. I will likely never be a Nalu shipper, especially if Mashima stays his current course with the ship. To be blunt, it's one of the few things I can say I hate in anime and I've talked at length multiple times about my reasons why. I highly doubt that anyone, short of Mashima himself, can do anything to make me like the ship to any meaningful degree. Especially considering much of what I've done in the past is directly attack the arguments for liking Nalu.

The reason I've talked about Nalu in the past is that I want my position to be seen as intellectually valid. I hate that people will question why some feel the need to defend themselves over ships and then question how you don't like theirs. I came into the fandom seeing people literally say that they don’t understand how people go through Fairy Tail and not ship Nalu.

I want to show that I, and others like me, are not insane for not liking the fandom's big ship, among the myriad other things I talk about at length. I thought I was opening myself up to widespread criticism when I made my first post about why I don't like Nalu and have been beyond shocked to see the exact opposite happen over more than four years of blogging.

But after four years of blogging, I've grown numb to the discourse. This isn't because I magically like the ship now. (Apparently, I can't reblog 5 pictures of Natsu and Lucy together before I'm accused of liking Nalu.) Frankly, I don't really have anything else to add to the conversation. I've made any and all the points against Nalu I may ever need to make. I barely have it in me to comment about the stuff I see currently happening in the sequel and that's not really pushing me towards liking Nalu more or less. It just feels like we're back to business as usual.

To prove my point, I've directly about how the "friends to lovers" trope isn't the issue I have with Nalu. (The main thrust of the post I was going to reply to.) I've talked about I've already talked about some of the crazy things some Nalu fans have done. I tackled both and more complaints I had with Nalu were in a post I made well over three years ago.

Over.

Three.

Years.

Ago.

The next post in that series would be me mentioning the possibility of Donald Trump as president, about a month before his election. I remember because I made the edit the day after he was elected in case people thought I was making up. Funny enough, that one was also about letting people who don't like things to exist (provided they're not a total jerk). If that sounds familiar, that’s because I’ve ended up making a post dealing with that topic almost every year since starting this blog.

INCLUDING THIS POST!

Look, if you like Nalu and leave people alone about it, that's cool. If you happen to like most of the other stuff I do, and even think I make a few good points about Nalu every now and then, more power to you. That's better than I can say regarding my own views on the ship. If you happened to stumble on this post and disagree with me over Nalu, you have plenty of people who agree with you and are making content for the ship you love.

At the same time, I don't think I'm ever going to be convinced to ship Nalu. I have no such desire anymore. I just want to make my posts, write my stories and not be told I'm somehow reading or interpreting the series wrong for not liking them. I’m not taking anything away from the Nalu fandom by existing.

And to the people who also don’t ship Nalu but harass people who do, knock it off. I don't care how annoying [insert action(s) by [insert Nalu fan(s) here] here] is. Chances are that I agree with you that [copy/paste answers from above here] is/are annoying. I’m willing to bet I’ve complained about something similar in the past. Even still, you're near automatically more annoying than whoever or whatever you have an issue with by channeling that into harrassing others.

If you disagree with me, you can meet me in the pits. At the very least, because you're making it harder for me to do what I do by association.

In Conclusion:

A personal message to the extremists in both the Nalu fandom and the Nalu hatedom.

#anti nalu #i hate this new version of the fandom

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