#PLEASE not to romanticize but we were everything but he also was nothing. it's complex. keep up w me now

[smoothoperador]

.

[hpalways]

The Signature || Zhongli

Yandere! Zhongli x Reader

Please make sure not romanticize toxic relationships. I do not condone this behavior whatsoever. 

AMBER eyes were stuck on you, never once leaving your form. They belonged to the Geo Archon, Zhongli, the attractive man you befriended not too long ago. His long ebony hair had left its hair tie, drooping loosely over his shoulder like a soft waterfall as he rested his hands on the surface of the desk -- the desk in which you were forced to sit at. 

In front was a long piece of parchment, handwritten by the male delicately. On it stated:

An agreement that [Y/N] will stay by Zhongli’s side forever. The signer will not speak, look, or stand near anyone other than Zhongli. The signer will be cherished, so they will also have to cherish the other party. They will enjoy their lives to the fullest, as long as they do not step out of line and make sure to follow the rules laid out to them. 

[Y/N] will never stop loving Zhongli. They will speak of topics in interest to both parties. They will drink tea and spend mora for the two of them. They will unconditionally love Zhongli. They will love Zhongli. Zhongli will love them. For an infinite amount of time. Forever and always. Always. 

They will never die. They can not die. 

DO NOT EVER DIE.

Punishment will come if they dare break the contract. The signer knows what this means. 

Signed: _____________

The hand on the pen was gripped so hard, your knuckles had turned white and it shook. Your breath was shallow; A headache began to pound. His eyes would never leave. You were his priority now. Every action was a ticking bomb -- anything could set him off easily. 

You didn’t want to fucking sign it. You knew it was a death trap, but did you have a choice? Not really. 

Zhongli noticed your torn expression, so he tilted his head with a quiet hum. “Is it that hard to sign something?” he stated coolly, his gloved hand brushing over yours. The leathered feeling sent shivers down your spine, and it took everything not to cringe away. 

“I was just… thinking,” you murmured. He raised his brows slightly, quickly interested by your words. Maybe you could buy some time and figure a plan out to leave this room unscath. Luckily enough, the God of Geo was a man who often went on tangents. “I was thinking about the first day we met. You made me pay for your tea at the teahouse.”

He nodded eagerly, stroking the bottom of his chin in thought. “Why, yes. I can remember that day as clear as the skies of Liyue. The tea made for me was quite striking. Made of violetgrass and it tasted delightfully smooth too. Then you came in and made it taste even better. You were all dirtied from battle, seeking for a nice drink to be refreshed on. It caught my attention immediately, but when you offered to pay for me, I knew you were the one.”

He described the meeting in a dreamlike tone, oblivious to the jarring reality that sank its teeth on everyone like a poisonous snake. You shouldn’t have paid for him that day; you shouldn’t have even made eye contact and spoken to him. This was the consequences to your failure of judgment. You could only now sow what you reap. 

He swerved around the desk, growing ever closer to you until he was right next to you. His warm breath hit the side of your face, the smell of soft mint wafting up your senses. “Now… let’s not get off track here. Sign this, my love. I promise you it’s not that hard.”

Dammit. He was too focused on the contract that you barely had the time to brainstorm. Nothing was coming to mind. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the office of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You turned around in desperation, hoping it was someone who could save you from such a situation. There, stood a merchant, his hand holding advertisements to his stalls.

“Hello, I’ve come to--”

When his eyes landed on you, the figure beside you had made his move. Zhongli grabbed his polearm and with a clean swipe, beheaded the speaking man. The body-less head made a perfect, slow arc in the air before dropping to the ground with a sickening crunch. You let out a gasp, panting raspily in shock, stomach twisting within itself in nausea at the sight. What… just happened? That man just died. Oh god. Oh fucking goodness. You suddenly realized something. Help wasn’t ever going to come. No one could best Zhongli. He was a god! 

“Why did you… do that?” you choked out, gulping down the huge lump in your throat. As a pyro vision user, you had your fair share of witnessing deaths. But this was wrong. Someone innocent died for coming into this room. On account of you. He died because of you. 

“On the contract it’s stated that you cannot look at someone. Besides, he interrupted our moment.”

“I haven’t even signed the contract yet!” you cried out in hysteria. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. 

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “That’s right. You haven’t. Well, this serves as a warning.”

You could never leave him. Trapped in a glass box within all corners, you were to be suffocated by his presence forever. There didn’t need to be a contract; you were already in one. He would kill your loved ones if you didn’t -- he knew of the weakness humans had, for he lived long enough to observe. He had guilt tripped, blamed you for it all, and knew that you would indeed succumb. The deaths were caused by your actions, painting you in red of a blood bath. 

The pen made its move. Ink bled into the paper, marking it as a tattoo. Indeed. This was permanent. It would continue to haunt you for the rest of your life. The writing was barely legible, pressed down so hard it became jagged like shards. 

[Y/N] [L/N] was finally written on the goddamn page. 

Gods were so selfish. They truly didn’t like to share-- whether that’d be war, the world, or the love of their life. If only you had known beforehand. 

“This is marvelous,” he exclaimed, his expression brightening up. He looked so joyous at the signature, lapping it up like a starved dog. His reaction was so unnerving, especially since the dead body was still in the room, rotting away like the corpse it was. Disgusting. Your hands and his were bloodied and he had no shame. “[Y/N]...” He raised your limp hand and kissed the back of it. “I love you. We shall be bound by this contract. Know that I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

You stayed silent. He was trying to make it romantic, but this entire thing was surreal to you. Either he was ignoring your lack of response on purpose or he did not notice. Tucking the contract away into the pockets of his brown, gorgeous coat, he eyed his hair. 

“Tie my hair, my dear. I’ve always wanted to feel your warm hands on me.”

You nodded robotically in response, getting up from your seat to reach the towering male. His cheeks flustered when your fingers weaved into his soft strands. But it was cold. They felt like weaving spider webs, ready to entrap a poor bug victim into its complex trap. That was what you were. Every second spent was eating you away, until you were nothing but dust.

[projectjasper]

my thoughts and opinions on "lovely writer": criticizing the critic

tw for discussions of age gaps, rape, and sex

before i turn into the mean and constantly dissatisfied archer that we all know and hate, i just want to say that i liked this show. i think it's great, actually! gene and sib are appropriately cute, the premise is nice, and the attempt at criticizing the industry is... well, an attempt, which is better than nothing. moreover, "lovely writer" came with gifts because it gave me my new favorite character, so you can't go telling me i'm trying to completely obliterate it or something.

besides, this specific post isn't going to get into analyzing the show as a whole anyway. i won't be talking about any irrelevant plot points, cinematography, sound design, or anything like that, though i could probably write a post just as long as this one about that side of things as well. however, i am here to specifically look at the problematic things that were both criticized by the show and included in the show without any criticism. i'm going to talk about the more serious side of things here, which means i'm going to get serious. and i'm going to be harsh. very harsh.

gene and nubsib: yes's and no's

overall, the relationship between gene and sib was a fair attempt at showing something complex, yet ultimately quite healthy, which i appreciate. there were some things i was especially glad about. the fact that sib dated other people before settling on getting together with gene, for example, makes the whole situation a little less codependent. however, as much as this show prides itself on not wanting to romanticize problematic relationships, there are at least two major problems with genesib.

the age gap (and why it was not needed)

i've tried my very best to give this entire concept the benefit of the doubt. at first, i was convincing myself that they were simply close childhood friends, then i was trying my best to believe that even though sib did have a sort of crush on gene (which sometimes happens to little children), gene only saw him as his younger brother, but eventually, the show gave me no choice, but to deem the entire storyline problematic, because they did their best to romanticize that relationship - from gene's dad seeing the "early signs" to the counting and kissing the cheek turning to counting and full-on lip-locking in the last episode.

i could go into how this could all easily be mended if little sib was shown as kind of obsessed with his older friend, but gene was shown as not being anywhere near interested in the kid. but the real question is - why was the age gap needed at all?

i've researched the age of the boys during the flashbacks to the best of my ability and it seems that gene is 11 and sib is 6 or 7. if sib was the same age as gene (or maybe just one year younger, but not any more than that), not only would none of it feel weird, it would also be quite appropriate to explore that first glimpse of romantic feelings some of us experience exactly around that age. i don't think it's necessary for sib to be much younger than gene (children can be just as impressionable at 11 as they are at 7, and as for gene being surprisingly nice and helpful and the other kids not wanting to play with sib, he could have easily been - for example - bullied by his peers instead, which would have the same effect).

moving forward to the present, i don't think the lack of an age gap would affect the storyline that much either. even if they desperately needed sib to be a university student, they could have that one-year difference i've talked about before, which is not as significant. sib could be in his last year of uni, while gene could have easily written his very first novel during his university years, which would actually make more sense (since that guaranteed him employment and freedom to write after he finished uni; and i would rather believe that he had time to write his first novel in-between classes than in-between shifts at work, which he would surely need to have if he started writing after finishing university).

so that brings me back to my initial question - why was it needed? and much like the show often does, i will leave this one up for your interpretation because i do not have any sensible answers myself.

the issue with sex and consent

"but archer!" - i hear you exclaim - "lovely writer is known for explicitly denouncing rape romanticization in bls, how could there possibly be any problems with consent here?" and i hear you, my dear reader. and you aren't incorrect, "lovely writer" is indeed very explicit at calling out bls for having rape scenes (and i do appreciate that). however, as i'm sure you know, there are different ways in which consent can be taken from a person, and there are different non-consensual acts that someone might perform. for example, there are many different forms of coercion, such as the person being persuaded until they feel like they have no other choice, but to say yes. touching someone or kissing someone without asking for permission are also non-consensual acts. i can go on and on, there are many examples outside of what so many people consider rape.

now, what if i tell you that though there (thank the gods) has been no rape present in "lovely writer", not all scenes with gene and sib are consensual? well, that's what i'm telling you because it's the truth. both the first kissing scene and the scene where gene and sib "try out different poses" have clear coercion in them. the entire "joke" of the scene before gene and sib's first time is literally built upon the concept of "a person is trying to run away from someone, who wants to have sex with them" and it is NOT funny. the later reveal of gene actually looking up how to have sex seems to be there on purpose, to show that everything that's happened is "ok" because gene was thinking about it. as a sensible person, i will only accept actual enthusiastic consent and not someone possibly maybe probably considering it. not to mention that right before having sex, sib asks gene one last time if he is sure, which is great, except it is immediately followed by "i'm not going to let you change your mind anymore", which - daily reminder - you are allowed to stop having sex at any point during the act if you start feeling uncomfortable with it. that's absolutely normal.

now the problem that we seem to run into here is that "lovely writer" appears to think that it's ok to push someone to the limit until they either finally agree or confidently and loudly disagree. the drama has repeatedly shown us that actually forcing someone to have sex is not ok; however, persuading and otherwise coercing someone, as well as taking an approximate guess of them wanting to have sex based on some marginally related factors, is ok. i would like to once again remind everyone that all of that is not ok.

one more issue i want to bring up in connection with sex is something i wish was common knowledge: it is NOT supposed to hurt during your first time. whether you are planning to have vaginal or anal sex for the first time, it should not hurt. and if it does, something has definitely gone wrong and you need to stop. you are not supposed to experience any pain or discomfort during sex, including your first time (outside of desired and therefore intentionally inflicted pain, but that's not what i'm talking about here). i have seen this misconception brought up many times in bls along with the other person "thanking the person who got hurt for bearing the pain to bring them pleasure" and absolutely none of that is normal. stop. please, just... stop.

criticism of the BL industry

there are certainly quite a few things i liked about the way "lovely writer" criticized the many problems that surround bls. i think they dealt especially well with the fan aspect. the breaches of privacy that are considered normal, the toxicity of social media that encourages people to comment on other people's personal life, harass and stalk them - all of that was shown in its full glory (or rather horror) and clearly condemned. it was also interesting to see how easily everyone around sib fell into the routine of having to hide genesib's relationship, just because "that's what's supposed to be done in these situations" - even tum did that without thinking twice.

however, i have not spent the past three years hating gmm for a show trying to criticize the industry not to focus on criticizing the production company and everyone professionally involved with the making of bls. don't get me wrong - they didn't completely overlook that side of things, but i found the way they approached it dissatisfying.

like yes, tum fights with his sister (aka sib's manager) and calls her out for her terrible actions, and the publisher (bua) eventually apologizes for what she did, but all of that feels a bit too... personal. i do not care about these individual stories. i care about you saying that the whole system is broken because it very much is. i wanted manner of death but with the bl industry, and instead, i got an "uwu the fans are demanding we do this, and our hands our tied" (which is a lie) and "uwu i'm just trying to make money" (which i mean... if you feel ok milking even more money than you already have by doing something unethical and immoral, then be my guest, but also go fuck yourself). besides that, i didn't see any criticism of tabloids or exploitative celebrities either (both of which we had examples of in the show), and that was kind of disappointing.

coming back to the fans for a moment, i also think that the criticism of real people shipping was entirely unsuccessful. we basically mostly got an "oh, what if this person's partner thinks they are actually dating", which... if a bunch of people on the internet who do not know your boyfriend personally and make all their judgments from screenshots and their imagination can convince you that your boyfriend is cheating, i've got some bad news for you and also a number for a therapist. partly i know why it was so complicated for them to get into it properly - the issue with real people shipping is an issue of privacy, boundaries, the perception of celebrities, acceptable interests, and many other complex topics. however, it's better to not criticize something than to criticize it badly and inaccurately (because the latter usually leads to even more encouragement of whatever you were attempting to criticize).

aey: the flamboyant villain

aey certainly starts as a promisingly complex character, but the farther we go from his backstory and his family, the less complex and the more evil he gets. eventually, the trauma he goes through is no longer enough to give him a get-out-of-jail-free card, and he loses all remaining sympathy after sexually harassing gene and pretending to drug sib. and i did start this post by saying that i am not to analyze any plot points or characters from the show here; however, i'm saying all this to prove a point that aey is a clear villain in the show. this is further cemented by the fact that by the end of the show he loses the only two people who cared about him, and the very last moment with him in the show is literally just him crying for about 3 minutes. there was no redemption arc, no pity, no revenge - he was left alone and broken, clearly punished by the narrative. and i've got a bone to pick here as well.

one of the first things that we find out about aey is that he is gay, and quite openly so. he is repeatedly described as very feminine by many characters, he flirts with men, he talks about being good in bed, and his entire character is built upon being gay (half of it directly, and the other half due to the fact that his entire backstory and therefore personality is also built upon the fact that he is gay). he is - for the lack of a better term - the gayest character in the show and the only one who is loud about being gay not because he is in love but simply because it is a part of him and he doesn't want to hide it. and he is the villain. not the disgusting publisher or the terrible manager - no, this guy was specifically chosen to ruin everyone's lives. and i can't say i'm particularly happy about that. *british voice* seems a bit homophobic love

not quite queer enough

as i said, aey is openly gay. gene and sib also eventually say that they are gay, gene's father teep is queer, so are tiffy and mhok. but it just doesn't seem to come up as much as it would in real life. the only time anyone has a problem with any of the characters being queer is when we deal with the parents. but knowing actual queer thai actors in real life, we are all aware how hard it can be for them, but it has not come up even once for aey, gene or sib (with genesib only being a problem because they are a "non-shippable couple"). being queer is far from being a non-issue in the industry, and i found it incredibly weird that it was never brought up (and i would also prefer if they brought that up instead of showing the unaccepting parents plot for the millionth time).

same goes for the lack of conversation around queer people on set. i think we all have a wonderful example of how much better a bl can get simply when it involves a queer director and/or screenwriter (gods bless p'aof), gay actors, etc. i also thought it was a missed opportunity that gene being a gay man writing a bl novel was never highlighted. if anything, everyone made a big deal out of him being a man writing a bl - never mind that he is a gay man that is far more qualified to write bls than a straight woman.

in conclusion, there are simply not enough queer issues talked about here for a show that is about queer people facing difficulties while making a queer drama.

tiffy and tum: the good, the bad, and the ugly

overall, tiffy and tum are quite cool. outside of my own personal feelings, i really liked the clear reversal of gender roles they have going on: he knows lots about make-up, she knows nothing about it, he knows how to sew, she knows how to repair a car, etc.

tiffy is also a nice addition to the precious few queer girls we have in bls. however, the way her being bi is executed... it isn't great. when she first talks about dating girls to tum, she says things like "even though i look like this" (implying queer girls have a certain look?) and "maybe it seemed normal because i was at an all-girls school" (which wtf does that even mean?). i think the worst thing, though, was when she assumed tum was gay. my best guess is she thought so because she initially thought that tum and gene were a couple; however, she should be the first person to know that just because he likes men, it doesn't mean that he doesn't like women or any other gender. even though there was nothing explicitly leading me to make this conclusion, this whole thing did kind of feel like the old "flipping the switch" stereotype (meaning, she used to like women, but now she likes men, and both of them can't happen simultaneously).

make it make sense

i think i've never been more confused in my entire life than when i found out that the director of "lovely writer" also happens to be the director of "th*arnt*pe". and if at first, i was asking a lot of questions about this peculiar individual, who went from working on the worst rape-romanticizing show we have ever had to a show that explicitly states that rape is not normal. but the more i thought about it, the less i was interested in him, and the more i was interested in whoever made the decision to hire him. there are dozens of different directors that have worked specifically on bls, and even more that haven't. yet out of all those, you decided to choose this one. the dude, who before your show has only directed the show with the biggest rape-y vibes. that casts a particular kind of shade on the entire show that i simply do not like.

conclusion

at the end of the day, i think what "lovely writer" tried to do was very interesting. it succeeded in some ways and failed in others. frankly, i think this show could have easily been made better if someone queer was involved in making it. that's always true, but especially so, when we try to talk about the issues of making a queer drama. either way, it's certainly a good start to this conversation; however - as i said - i'm still waiting for my manner of death but with the bl industry. this was unfortunately not it.

[smellycinnamonthundahfudge]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Wanda Maximoff & Vision Characters: Vision (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff Additional Tags: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Family Loss, Tragedy, Sibling Loss, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Pietro Maximoff Dies, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Pre-Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Protective Vision (Marvel) Summary:

Wanda couldn't, or didn't, want to save herself after losing Pietro. And yet, Vision did anyway. He contemplates why.

... vision being worthy hits differently after wandavision...

once again, warnings of pietro's death and wanda feeling suicidal after it...

Vision felt like he was carrying a frozen, limp, dead body as he flew away from the descending land of Sokovia about to implode onto itself.

Wanda Maximoff seemed… numb, for starters. But, Vision is aware that what she seems to be feeling was something, he probably did not know yet. An emotion powerful enough to render someone catatonic.

He did not know why, but now, he seemed to be feeling… He did not know what this feeling is. It is quite literally his first time feeling it, but, he thinks he’s feeling… sympathy, for Ms. Maximoff.

She appeared to be in a great and terrible amount of pain. And that emotion, as he understood it, was something that was not usually wished onto good people. And, despite Ms. Maximoff having worked with Ultron and Hydra, she seemed to be a good person that simply wished to protect her country and did not want to hurt innocents.

Yes, Vision felt… something, probably sympathy, for Ms. Maximoff… She did not deserve what had happened to her. Vision only wished he had the capability to give her what she needed in this moment.

However, he did not even know what that was. All he knew, for now, was that Wanda Maximoff could not, or maybe, did not want to save herself. But, that did not mean she was not worthy of being alive. And as such, he saved her. That was all he could do.

And yet, something inside him… sparked, making him want to do more…

But for now, he merely did his duty, and helped the young woman down as they had finally arrived onto solid ground.

They were a few yards away from where the rest of the Sokovians were evacuated and Vision wanted to make sure that Ms. Maximoff would be ready to acclimate to being surrounded by the tumult and noise of an evacuation area before he brought her there. And, it would be a good status check on someone that had just gone through an unthinkable loss and tragedy.

Wanda doesn’t- she can’t process it yet. She felt her body lose gravity, and then she felt it get lifted. Felt the wind and humidity from up above the sky.

She also felt the nauseating stench of the blood, ash, and smoke from the ruins of her homeland, or at least all that was left. Emanating to them even despite their high altitude.

She felt things, physical sensations after- … but, she did not even know what she was feeling anymore. She felt everything and nothing. She felt- …

She felt.

They were going down now and Wanda still didn’t think about what she was going to do. She didn’t want to figure it out.

But even then, Vision gently let her stand back on the ground, offering support in case she needed help standing up.

Wanda then, figures out the first thing she wants after what just happened. She wants to be alone.

She pushes Vision away and tells him as such, wiping the grime and tears from her face, “I want to be alone,” she inhales and wraps her arms around herself.

Vision takes a step back, out of respect. But, he’s still unsure how to handle this.

Nevertheless, he voices his concern. “Normally, I would respect your wish, Ms. Maximoff. However, we do not yet know if Ultron had other backup protocols in place in case his plan failed. And, I hope you do not think this as disrespectful, but, you do not seem to be in a fighting state right now, should anything happen.”

“I- …,” Wanda stops.

Not even a second after she was talking about something not about Pietro, she instantly remembers him.

But, she chides herself, how could she not?

How many times has she told Pietro she can protect herself? How many times- … She was with this person, her entire life. Every second she was not with him would be a glaring blaring agonizing absence in her life, a missing piece she knew she’d never get back. A hole, that would just forever be empty.

Reaching her hand out to only catch air.

She almost breaks. But, she doesn’t want to do this with someone else. She tells him off.

“I, can take care of myself,” she mutters, still not looking at him.

“Well, yes, I know that you are quite powerful, Ms. Maximoff. But…, as I understand you humans, grief and loss can irreparably change you. It would be quite understandable, and dare I say, humane to need help. It is not something to be ashamed of.”

“Ha. You do not know what I need. What I need-” … is my brother…

Fuck, she’s shivering again. She wills herself to calm down.

“I need to be alone, Vision.”

“But, if someone comes-” Vision steps closer to ask her to reconsider-

“Then let them come! Let them kill me and get it over and done with. At least-! … At least, I wouldn’t have to live in a world without the only family I had left.”

Vision, has nothing to say.

Wanda sighs, “Just go, Vision. Leave me be,” and waves him off.

Vision, realizes his place. And accepts it.

But, he didn’t know if it was safety protocols, or something else, but something inside of him prompted him to still ask, “At least, allow me to keep watch over you from the edge of the evacuation area, Ms. Maximoff...

I may not know you, your brother, or… the complexity and depth of what it is you are going through right now.

But, your brother gave his life so Mr. Barton and a child could survive. I’d assume he would want the same to happen for you, as well.”

- That’s, when Wanda breaks.

She can't-

She drops to the earth, and lets out the horrible wail that’s been building up inside of her all this time.

Vision, bends down to her, without knowing why he was doing so.

And Wanda, accepts his arms.

Wanda didn’t know what she was doing at this point except scream in anguish, shout her excruciating unbearable agony out onto Vision’s chest.

Despite having done this already and screaming her throat raw, the abyss inside her still goes on, feeling unimaginable and endless.

Vision, didn’t know what he was doing either.

He just could possibly not understand right now, what had possessed a tear to fall from his eye.

He feels himself embrace Wanda before he knew it. And Wanda feels herself grab onto Vis so tight, as if every ounce of pain begged to come out from her entire body. Vision feels Wanda's fingers grip his back so tight that although it didn't physically hurt, it still felt....

...

Humans. Odd. Possessing Grace… Is this- what, it must feel like?

Maybe Vision didn’t need to know, or maybe he didn’t want to know. All he knew right now, was that this person, Wanda Maximoff, was in pain. And right now, if sharing that pain with him, him feeling her pain, helped eased hers... He was willing to sacrifice it, without knowing why.

Humans, odd, possessing grace, anger, chaos, beauty, tumult, fear, pain, and love… he thinks it might just be the heaviest responsibility, and the greatest privilege. To feel what they feel.

Sympathy, empathy, affinity, love… is this- what it feels like?

Vision lets himself close his eyes and lie his head on top of Wanda’s almost protectively, to shield her from the world. And as he hears and feels her, still breaking down within his embrace, he lets the other tears in his eyes fall as well.

Vision, felt.

                             Notes:  

please tell me if anything felt romanticized or disingenuous or just... wrong, about Wanda's suicidal ideation and how she handled her grief... (but, uhm.. it's honestly based on what i've felt personally, my trysts with wanting to be unalive heh.. i'm asking because i've never felt a loss such as what wanda has felt, so... i want to be respectful so please, just tell me if- well as i said, just tell me. this subj matter shouldn't be written haphazardly so i take great care into making sure everything's treated carefully... that's all. i hope it's understood what my pov was on writing this is...)

wanda was stuck to where she had tried to kill ultron's main form was my main impetus on thinking she had given up on life... yes, she could just not have a handle on her powers at that point to be capable of flight. or she was just processing her grief and shell-shocked and not necessarily feeling suicidal...

this is just how i interpreted one could feel after such an unthinkable loss... once again, please don't hesitate to tell me if anything's wrong but... i still kind of hope i managed to evoke emotions with this work as it evoked something in me as i wrote it... thank you.

(also, this might have a next part. i'm open to it. i wanna imagine how the next part of their relationship, coming from this, develops...)

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

princess-nazario:

It's ok, thanks for clearing things up. See, everytime theres a post that might just be different the tumblr-fad! Version you speak or questions how tumblr might be romanticizing them theres always annoying people in the replies saying that theres a version where she wanders down the underworld herself, or that the version where shes kidnapped is...weak or a damsel in distress since it doesnt fit into tumblrs made idea of empowerment?? Its so annoying honestly. I saw this kind of stuff in a lot of posts while exploring the greek myth tag and its just... infuriating. I definitely should ignore them but it seriously makes me kind of sad and angry at the same time? The hades and persephone posts are everything(mostly tumblr-fad!) Version I reread your original post and yes I do agree, tumblr-fad! Persephone does take away a lot of the complexities and archetypes I read you examine. I think Hadestown might portray Hades and Persephone's power struggle well, it doesnt completely ignore the implications its giving off for the sake of some romance. This is what tumblr is doing and it's really annoying. By doing this and reducing the characters here to simple boxes it's taking away your interest in the myth, I think that's what you meant? I think your study of Hades/the underworld being Persephones self, cthonic meaning "spirit of nature within, inner self" while I dont fully understand that's really cool. I especially dislike how woobified and depowered he usually is in the tumblr-fad! Theres a lot you can work with him as the antagonist in a retelling I think. In fact maybe itd be great to have a retelling that explores the power struggle between Hades and Persephone and shows how Persephone gets through adversity and becomes of equal power through oppressive authority? Thatd be really cool. Tumblr-fad! Version is the twilight of myths but kind of the opposite. In twilight, the author itself romanticizes the creepiness and power struggle that might be there between Edward itself(although Bella does have a lot of agency so I think that's why it resonated so much with female readers?) while the Persephone has a various amount of versions, most versions being she was kidnapped/abduction with many meanings and metaphors and allegories to things, and tumblr-fad! Version ignores nuance in favor of their ships. Thanks for being so open and honest about this, I honestly was stressed because I thought my response maybe being immature or uninformed might be irritating or annoying. I haven't been sneaking through your blog or anything like that, I just saw your original post in the goddess demeter tag so I searched up "Persephone" on your stuff since I was curious with what else you might have to say about it. I wish Tumblr could maybe bother to learn something called not everything is entirely not THIS thing or the OTHER and maybe do something different from what Hades and Persephone coming to be known as the peak of all love stories on the website.

@princess-nazario I hope you don’t mind, I copy pasted your last reblog into a new post thread because the last one was getting massive.

I think I’m starting to understand what you’re getting at regarding the perception of victims as “weak,” and it makes a lot of sense. Thank you for clarifying regarding the “damsel in distress” trope because that’s when it clicked for me what you were talking about. I actually agree on that point, I think there is a tendency for pop feminism to kind of portray more vulnerable, sensitive or fragile women as less feminist, so I can see how you’re applying that to your views on how people on tumblr perceive the story of Hades and Persephone.

That said, I think you have a lot of different angles you’re looking at this whole thing from, and that’s great! However I think there’s so many subjects you are trying to tackle here that it seems like you are kind of are only half informed about, maybe from exploring discussions online. I think this is resulting in conclusions that are kind of confused and lacking in more solid foundations, if that makes sense. I think maybe you might benefit from exploring each element further on their own merits.

For example, did you know that there are a lot of different feminist viewpoints on Twilight itself? And not all feminists completely condemn it? In my opinion, there are a lot of things about Twilight to criticize, however there was a distinct element of hatred for the interests and desires of teenage girls involved with how people responded en masse to the Twilight phenomenon. I don’t think you were old enough to be directly familiar with all this at the time. I think a decent primer would be this video from Lindsay Ellis (tho please keep in mind that some of her most recent content is not for younger audiences). It doesn’t cover all angles of the topic, but it does give an alternative perspective in retrospect about the raging Twilight hate that swept through pop culture for a long time:

Also, there is a whole conversation to be had about the concept of “woobification,” and why that word exists, as well as how it is used in conversations about girls and women’s fantasies. The original post I made shows that I have my own frustrations when male villains and darker archetypes are whittled down to something seemingly non-threatening and “socially acceptable” myself (like...turning the beast into the prince in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast), but in my experience, people have often used the word “woobie” to describe any explorations of the vulnerability of these types of male characters when women do so because they find those men intriguing or attractive, and that can get kind of tricky because in many ways, those conversations can harbor a subtle resentment and shaming towards female fantasties, period.

I’m getting the impression that maybe there’s something about Hades and Persephone, or at least the archetypes they embody, that really intrigues you, but you’re not sure what you are supposed to think and feel about it from a feminist perspective. That’s ok, ultimately you’ll figure it out on your own. I can’t tell you what to think about the myths themselves on their own, separate from contemporary feminist media because that’s ultimately it’s own thing, and you can springboard your own perspectives and reimagining off of the original in any way that feels right to you.

 What I can do though, is leave you with some age-apropriate content that I was consuming at your age, as well as a link to a site that explores stories with similar archetypes that Persephone embodies. 

The site is called Girls Underground, and it explores and catalogues stories about girls who go on heroine’s journeys in the “Cthonic” context like I was talking about, as in exploring their own inner psyches through the experience of traversing a strange, scary, magical place. Sometimes these stories involve the trope of a spooky attractive male character who takes on an adversarial role that is sometimes also romantically charged, but not all of them do. I think the resources page may be of particular interest to you because it links to essays on subjects within this genre of storytelling. The Examples page has a ton of other stories not listed here that you can take a look at, however not all of them (but many of them!) are kid friendly.

Movies that I would recommend: 

Labyrinth (1986), which was my favorite film since early childhood, and is the reason I love these types of stories to begin with.

Legend(1985), which doesn’t depict a healthy dynamic, but is a great film and does have a big place in the general conversation about this type of storytelling.

Howl’s Moving Castle, either the book or the film. 

Pan’s Labyrinth is rated R for some gore and violence, and it has scary moments, but I think it’s fine for most teens. The character of Pan is not part of that whole “demon lover” trope because the heroine is a small child, but he takes on a similar role in terms of being a figure that embodies the underworld and thus a major part of the heroine’s psyche.

Honestly, I would consider Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (the original, not the live action remake) a good rendition. It was written by a woman.

Jean Cocteau’s black and white La Belle et La Bete.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, or a film adaptation of the same.

Rebecca by Daphne DuMarier, which is what my username is from. I’m fond of the Hitchcock film adaptation.

Honestly, the 2004 adaptation of Phantom of the Opera is...flawed, but it was my introduction to Phantom, and it’s a lot of melodramatic fun. 

It’s worth noting that in a lot of these stories, there are not perfect, healthy relationships depicted between men and women. There is cruelty, there is harm. But in many cases, that does not mean these stories have nothing to say about relationships between men and women, nor does it say that they are solely tales about abuse and we cannot find romanticism within them. Each story has it’s own flaws, it’s own strengths, hold deeper meanings beyond the surface. They contribute something distinct to a rich history of artistic explorations of the dynamics of power in romance and the female experience with our own desires within a patriarchal society.

[skekheck]

For the character ask: SkekSa

YES THE PIRATE QUEEN

Why I like them

The original different skeksis. She’s a lot like skekMal where she mostly distances herself from the skeksis court, but still has to intermingle with them on occasion. Otherwise, she’s out doing what she loves and exploring the seas. On top of that, she’s different from her kin in that she genuinely loves and cares for the gelfling (or at the very least the Sifa). Her very first scene is treating a gelfling who was poisoned. You don’t really see that from the other skeksis and that’s a really refreshing perspective. Not to mention the reason why she out of the others loves them is super interesting. 

She’s also a pretty complex villain. All she really wants to do is sail the seas, but she is tied back by her services to the Emperor. How fiercely she wants to be independent, but truth of the matter is she needs someone to guide her. She needs stability and to be able to rely on others to function. But she’s also self-destructive: she’s very sensitive to trust. Because she subconsciously relies on others, anything that she sees as a betrayal destroys her. She hates it above all else. When the Sifa joined the rebellion, she decided to team up with the very people she hates to get some kind of control back. She was even offered a chance to join the resistance, but ultimately decided against it for her own selfish reasons. Eventually she had no one but herself, losing all of her connections to everyone she’s ever known, and suffered a slow, agonizing death. Her descent was mostly self-inflicted and there were better options for her that she never took. And that’s the tragedy of it, really. 

Why I don’t

I think if there was anything I don’t like about skekSa is how she views the gelfling. She loves and cares for them of course, but not more than as a pet. It’s better than how the other skeksis see the gelfling, but not by much. Also I don’t like how the fandom romanticize her, but I think that’s because the majority have never read the books and only learned about her through word-of-mouth. Also fandoms just be like that, can’t be helped. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

(Well I guess scene from a book is more appropriate) Her debut. I just like the way she’s portrayed as being a “nicer” skeksis to add context to the fact not all skeksis act or think the same way. She added a complex facet to them by being their contrast. And how she views the gelfling: while she sees them nothing more than her pets, she cares for them. She denounces her kin’s essence drinking ways and wanted to take the Sifa to safety. She even cradled Tae when she was poisoned and helped her by teaching Naia how to heal her. But you also saw snippets that she’s not as benevolent and foreshadowing of her eventual descent. It’s so good. 

Favorite season/movie

(Again, relying on the books here). I think I liked her in Tides more because, again, we see that contrast and descent most strongly in this book. Also she was more involved there.

Favorite line

(When talking to Amri about what he did to skekSil during the carriage rescue)

“Apparently, Lord Chamberlain skekSil ran afoul of a group of Gelfling south of Ha’rar. One in particular - a Vapra, to his memory, but I think he may be mistaken- threw Sifa fire dust in his eyes. You wouldn’t know who that might have been, my little apothecary?Amri tried not to shrink back “He was asking for it”.“Oh, you can burn out both his weepy eyes for all I care.”

Favorite outfit

So skekSa doesn’t really have an official outfit outside of her book description and the only fully colored piece of hers is completely different. But from what is seen from the new prequel comics cover? That is a look. I like that look. It might be close to her book description. 

OTP

Her and urSan. There’s no way I’d ship her with anyone else. 

Brotp

I do like to imagine when she was much younger she had some friendships with other skeksis outside of skekZok. I do fancy a short friendship between her and skekMal because of how much they detest the skeksis court and they prefer nature and adventure over everything else. But I think it became an issue where skekMal despises the Mariner for living the same luxurious lifestyle as the other skeksis and relying on weakling creatures like gelfling to do things for her. Also his degradation, become more and more wild over time, made skekSa fear and be disgusted by him. I also see her being friends with skekAyuk for a short while, bonding over their favorite alcoholic beverages (and the Gourmand recommending some to her).

Head Canon

She has the best hygiene out of all the skeksis next to skekUng (as I headcanon he has medical knowledge like his mystic) and that’s why she still has a bunch of her hair/feathers/fur left. 

Also she’s the second tallest skeksis: the tallest being skekGra. 

Unpopular opinion

She’s going to look old and decrepit just like the other skeksis. SkekSa is almost a thousand years old she’s not going to look young and pretty. She’s going to look old as balls and make it WORK. 

A wish

I hope skekSa’s arc plays a big part in season 2 and just as complex, maybe even more, as she was in the books. 

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

Go easy on me with skekSa’s death, Jim Henson Company. I am not ready. 

5 words to best describe them

Swashbuckler | Fickle | Tragic | Self-destructive | Brokenhearted

My nickname for them

Pirate Queen

[heartau]

yuta + vampire au?

hello hello! i’ll be writing this in bullet point form because ive got really bad writers block :( !!

warnings: smut, various mentions of explicit gore, mentions of death and one mention of suicidal tendencies (not romanticizing though bc thats gross!)

work title: flame

being alive for more than a century can take quite it’s toll on you, even more so if you’ve spent the last 300-something years mourning over the death of a partner who carried half of your heart’s soul within them.

the scene has been iterating constantly in nakamoto yuta’s mind ever since the scene had occurred in front of him, in the middle of a battlefield, the year 1784.

the first vampire war, just a few years after he was first turned into one of them; a monster.

it was mortifying to him, the lack of bloodshed that stained the fields juxtaposed the mountain of beheaded bodies that eclipsed disarrayed towers.

tableaus of his lover’s head being sliced from their neck with just the flick of a specific blade, the killer’s face, of whomst housed flames in her eyes laughing as if it were a victory, flash in his mind before he shakes his head to rid of the frightening memories, focused on balancing himself atop the rooftop of his apartment building.

it’s the year 2019 and he lets out a sigh into the cool march air as he watches the cars and people littering streets below him continue on about their evening.

even if he were to jump, he’d only survive - vampires are cursed with immortality, no matter what they were to do to achieve the afterlife, they’ll only wake up alive and their bodies regenerated, as if nothing ever happened to it.

they stay in the same form since the moment they were bit.

“greetings, your highness,” his roommate’s voice causes him to turn towards his direction. “i have acquired some devastating information to bear.”

“stop talking like that, taeyong,” yuta mutters, swinging his legs over the ledge. “it’s 2019, people are gonna think you’re a weirdo.”

when the vampire war of 1784 came to its conclusion, yuta was victor, having savaged the remaining humans after watching his lover’s beheading; thus, he was brought to reign.

and he’s been reigning ever since.

reigning over what, exactly? who knows.

taeyong, his royal messenger (now, technically, one of his roommates), is one of the only vampires that he knows of these days.

“your highness,” taeyong cocks his head to the side. “i’m afraid i do not comprehend what you mean.”

yuta lets out a sigh. “never mind,” he mutters. “what’s the news?”

“i’m sure you are familiar with the blade of bloodlust?” taeyong says, and a jolt of pain goes through yuta at the mention of the weapon that was used to kill his lover. “it’s been stolen.”

“what do you mean?” asks yuta, furrowing his brows.

“it’s been stolen.” taeyong repeats.

“yes, i heard you the first time,” yuta lets out another sigh. “what do you mean it’s been stolen? isn’t it under heavy guard at the historical archives?”

he recalls the two muscular vampires who stood guard at the iron doors that housed the blade - surely no one can get past them both, with their burly arms and tall statures.

“it was, yes,” taeyong lets out a sigh as he pushes up the thin-lensed glasses perched atop his nose. “but upon visiting with doyoung this morning for further inquiries, we had found the bodies of both jung jaehyun and suh johnny. both bodies beared no head.”

yuta stood up from the cement ledge with widened eyes - if his heart were still beating, it would be thumping at a million miles per second at hearing this.

“so what you’re telling me is…” yuta’s voice is shaking.

he had rid of all the humans capable of holding that blade in 1784 by tearing them apart limb to limb and painting the cobblestone streets with their velvet ichor, bent upon mutilating them to the best of his abilities after what they had done to his lover.

there’s no way that a vampire hunter would still exist in the year 2019.

taeyong nods once. “a vampire hunter has been reborn, your highness.”

later that night, after discussing more on the matter with taeyong and doyoung, his royal strategist, he couldn’t bare to keep himself within the walls of his apartment.

the blood bags that he kept in the dodgy refrigerator in the kitchen were all gone, thanks to the recently turned teenager named mark lee, whom doyoung had bitten out of spite after the teen successfully tripped him as a dare by his friends.

“maybe if you calmed down a bit, we wouldn’t be out of our only life source right now, doyoung.” yuta scolds his strategist, who only rolls his eyes in response.

once upon a time, the man used to heed yuta’s word; the title of king was still a blessing those days. nowadays, as they settle into modernized settings, it would be a rare morning to hear the words “king” slip from doyoung’s lips.

“yeah,” mark says from the corner of the run down apartment. “what he said.”

“do you want me to go get some more food or something? i’ll break into a farm if that’s what you want. animal blood is just the same.” doyoung says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“no,” yuta sighs, slamming the door of the refrigerator closed. “i want you and taeyong and mark to stay here. there’s a vampire hunter on the loose and the three of you could survive against one.”

“and what are you gonna do?” doyoung quirks an eyebrow. “kill a random person on the street? what if they’ve got a family to come back to?”

“which is why i’ll find a criminal or something,” yuta mutters. “stop talking to me like that, doyoung. i’m your king, remember that.”

“right,” doyoung says. “king of the last ten vampires roaming the earth.”

yuta rolls his eyes before slamming the door closed, pulling on his suede jacket as he walks down the halls of the apartment complex.

they reside in the dodgy part of the city, so finding a criminal to bring home as food will be an easy task.

yuta walks the cool streets with his hands buried in the pockets of his suede jacket, eyeing every person who passes him by.

a group of giggling women, obviously having just left the bar down the street - harmless. yuta continues to walk.

a man standing on the stairs leading into an apartment complex, holding flowers behind his back, probably picking up his date - also harmless. yuta continues to walk.

a group of highschool boys cackling as they dash down the cemented streets, probably up to no good - a bit questionable, but they were all just highschool boys, so harmless. yuta continues to walk.

yuta continues to walk until he reaches the edge of the town, the rich skyscrapers of the high end districts letting him heave a sigh before pivoting on his heel to go back to his apartment and to let doyoung break into a farm.

but before he’s able to give doyoung the greenlight, he hears whimpering deriving from deep within a dark alley way.

the sound causes him to perk up, effortlessly stealthy when he walks to where he hears the sound.

“please,” he hears a shaking voice. “if you wanna rob me then go for it, just, please, don’t take my necklace.”

he looks around the corner and sees a tall, burly man dressed in all black cornering a sobbing girl, you, holding your purse in front of your body. from the looks of your outfit, you must have also just left from the bar down the street - but as yuta sniffs that air, he smells no alcohol coming from you.

“crying’s not gonna do anything, lady,” the robber gruffs. “give me your fucking necklace or else i’ll take it off your neck after i blast your head off.”

that sentence lets another sob wreak through you as you fall to your knees, clutching your bag tightly. “please, this necklace is special to me.”

“and? i don’t give a shit.” the robbers mutters, digging for something in his back pocket. the lights coming from the entrance of the alleyway reveals the outline of a gun. “i don’t got time for this, bitch making me wa-”

his sentence is cut off by silence, you hear the dull engine of a car passing by just down the alley way. you open your eyes, expecting to look down the barrel of a gun, only to see a different man standing in front of you.

“are you okay?” the voice is gentle and velvet when you hear it, looking up to see a kind face peering down at you. his hand was outstretched, offering to help you up.

“where did he go?” you question him.

“who?” his voice sounds slightly dejected, but still remains kind.

you take his hand hesitantly as he helps you up to your feet, heels wobbly as you find your balance. you rack your mind for words to say, but you can’t seem to find the correct ones for your situation.

“you should get home,” the man gives you a therapeutic smile. “it’s a strange town, it’s unsafe this time of night.”

you stare at him for a few seconds more, truly unable to form words, and you nod tightly. “but wait.” a beat. you search his eyes, they seemed to be glowing with a red flame. “who are you?”

but before the sentence escapes your lips, the man is gone.

that night, you went home with shaking hands and the lingering memory of the man with the burning flame in his eyes.

“taeyong,” yuta asks as he take a swig of his blood-filled cup.

the four of them, yuta, doyoung, taeyong and mark, are seated on the floor of the rundown apartment, feasting on the blood of the criminal that yuta had taken down.

taeyong turns his head towards him, setting his own glass down on the coffee table. “can mates be reborn?”

taeyong cocks his head to the side. “what are you inquiring, your highness?”

“i met a woman tonight,” yuta toys with the edge of his glass cup. “when i looked into her eyes, they held… a familiar fire.”

taeyong grows silent for a second as if he were pondering.

“your highness, there is a first time for everything.”

the next time yuta encounters you, it is during his day job as a barista at a local cafe.

(someone has to pay the bills; taeyong would freak out customers with his medieval speak, doyoung would quit after one squabble with a customer, and mark is still too recently-born to control his bloodlust.)

“hey, you’re the-” “can i take your order, miss?”

your eyes make their way to his nametag: yuta.

“yes, yuta,” you say, sharpening your eyes at him. “i’d like one tall iced caramel macchiato, and i would also like to speak to you when your shift is over.”

when yuta’s shift ends, your cup is already empty, finding solace in the screen of your phone. “you wanted to talk?” yuta asks, pulling up a seat next to you.

you waste no time. “who are you?”

“huh?”

“who are you? how did you know i was in trouble last night? where did that man go? he seemed to disappear into thin air.”

yuta lets out a sigh as he leans onto his elbows on the wooden table in front of you. his eyes are searching into yours, a wry smile taking over his face. for a second, even you felt a little inferior underneath his gaze but you quickly snap back to your usual gait.

“are you going to answer me or are you just gonna smile at me like that?”

“actually,” yuta says. “go on a date with me, and then i’ll tell you what happened.”

you roll your eyes. “and how do i know you’re not planning to do whatever you did with that guy to me?”

a grin stretches on his face. “i’ll take you out someplace where a lot of people are,” he says before putting his hand on top of yours. an electric spark seemed to erupt from your touch which caused his smile to widen. “trust me.”

and he did just that.

you and yuta’s first date took place at an amusement park - at first it started off with you nagging for him to tell you what really happened during the incident but you soon forgot about the entire incident the moment you screamed at the top of your lungs when the rollercoaster dropped. you spent the rest of the date clinging onto him as he dragged you from ride to ride and winning you multiple toys.

after, he took you back home and you promised to let him take you out again.

you and yuta’s second date took place at a simple 80’s themed diner, in one of the better spots of your town. as the neon lights flicked onto yuta’s skin and seemed to set his eyes even more ablaze, you sipped on your strawberry milkshake as you listened to him ramble about the daily occurrences he has to face.

you quickly forgot the reason why you even began to let yuta take you out when he kissed you on your doorstep, that night.

“your highness,” taeyong knocks on yuta’s door, one night, a few months later. “doyoung and i would like to speak with you about something.”

yuta turns his gaze from the book he was reading to his royal servants, one of whom remained loyal to him all these years. “yeah, come in?”

taeyong walks in, standing opposite to taeyong while doyoung lazily sits on yuta’s bed, crossing his legs. they both stay quiet for a while, and yuta furrows his brows confusedly.

“what is it?”

“i’m sure that you’ve noticed that mark hasn’t been coming out of his room for the past few months,” doyoung says, raising an eyebrow. “any reason?”

yuta ponders for a moment and then shakes his head. “no?”

“your highness,” taeyong sighs. “you’ve been arriving home with the stench of human blood for the past months. it’s absolute torture for the young boy. he’s just turned recently, so his senses are heightened.”

yuta closes his book. “he was turned a year ago, he should be fine by now,” yuta mutters, already deciding to dislike the topic of conversation. “why, do you guys have a problem with it too?”

“if you’ve got a blood bank, share it with us,” doyoung says, matter-of-factly. “i know you’ve been going out to get your share of blood, and the scent is fucking delicious, and we need it.”

yuta scoffs. “i don’t have a blood bank, doyoung,” he says. “although i don’t know why you’re acting as if i’d share it with you. maybe if you continued to be loya-”

“there you go again with your loyal shit,” doyoung groans. “there are only a few more vampires left on this earth and you’ve barely done anything to track down the hunter that’s been on the loose for the past few months. last i heard, qian kun and his coven were wiped out in beijing just last week. why would i be loyal to you if you haven’t been loyal to us? arent you supposed to be our king?”

“doyoung,” taeyong sighs. “that’s enough.”

“doyoung,” yuta stands up, towering over doyoung. “i tore apart every single vampire hunter with my own two hands, to the point where their existence were wiped out for more than a century. if it wasnt for me, your corpse would be buried in the ground without a head.”

doyoung stands. “you tore them apart nearly a century ago,” his voice grows louder. “you tore them apart a century ago and thats the only thing you’ve got underneath your belt to remain king but guess what!? there’s a new hunter! and they haven’t been killed yet! and if they fucking find us, yuta, the existence of vampires will be gone.”

“maybe that’s what should be,” yuta mutters. “we’re monsters.”

“are you saying you’d rather be human scum than to be immortal?” doyoung widens his eyes. “that you’d let a fucking vampire hunter win over your own kind?”

“doyoung, that’s enough.” taeyong stands in front of doyoung before the jet-black haired man could say anything more. “your highness. whoever the person you’ve been meeting is, they’re not worthy of your admiration. i beg of you to end it now before our coven is in danger.”

when yuta shows up on your doorstep, the flame behind his irises seem to burn deeper than how they usually do.

“oh, hey babe,” you say, as you let him in. your apartment was in disarray, clothes strewn everywhere. “sorry for the mess, i was just unpacking my stuff from my trip to ch-”

“i need you.” yuta nearly growls, backing you into the wall. your jaw becomes slack as you widen your eyes when your back meets the wall, his lips coming into contact with yours in a flurry of desperation.

when he pulls away for air, he’s panting, pressing his forehead against yours.

“babe, what’s gotten into you?” you ask him, half amused, half turned on.

“i just miss you a lot,” he says, peppering your neck with kisses. “i was lonely here while you were having fun abroad.”

you let out a moan when you feel him nip at one specific spot in the crook of your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to lightly sooth the pain. “well, you’re not lonely now.”

sex with yuta is not only physically draining, but emotionally as well - each time you find yourself entangled in your bedsheets with him, he’d let out all the emotions that he’d been facing the past few days, as if he were yearning for a clean slate at the end of it.

and while he lets out those emotions, he ends up being needy, which makes him rough - even while he kisses you tenderly, you can’t help but scream every time his hips snap back into yours.

even now, while you hover above him, arching your back as you letting out screams of pleasure while he thrusts his cock inside of you again and again from underneath, watching your face contorted in bliss although you’re sure that your neighbours have grown sick of hearing the two of you at times like these.

he pulls you back down towards him, hands fumbling when he flips the two of you over as he continues to rut into your hips while he cups your face to kiss you in an effort to mute your moans, but even then, knowing how far you break just because of what he does to you fuels his ego.

“you gonna cum baby?” yuta growls, pinning your hands down to your side as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. “you gonna cum from my cock?”

“fuck, yes, yuta!” you mewl, voice broken and hoarse from screaming all night. “keep going, k-keep going.”

you feel his cock reaching deeper and deeper inside of you as if he were planning to leave a mark within you, your bed beginning to move with his hips as it squeaks with every thrust. a few more ruts and you feel the familiar knot appearing in the pit of your stomach, your walls tightening around him as you feel the burning need to scream his name form in your throat once more.

“yuta!” you scream, unable to grasp at anything for support due to his hands pinning your entire body down, the feeling inside of you grows more intense. “i’m gonna cum! i’m gonna fucking cum!”

“cum for me baby,” he mutters, hips snapping in and out of you. “cum for me and scream my name. tell your neighbours who owns this dirty little cunt. tell your neighbours who fucks you so good.”

and you do, back arching off your mattress as you cum, lewd words stringed with his name escaping past your lips. the sight alone is enough to push yuta over the edge as well, littering your stomach with white as he pumps himself onto you.

for the next few seconds, you lay in bed in order to recollect yourself as well as to let the numbness slow down between your legs. yuta, however, pulls the sheets over him before he drops his legs to the floor, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“yuta,” you grab his hand. “come lay with me.”

he stays silent for a while, and you hear him gulp. “(y/n), i have to tell you something.”

you furrow your eyebrows as you wait for him to continue, pulling the sheets over your naked body.

“i,” he stammers. “i can’t keep lying to you.”

“what do you mean?”

“when we first met, that man who tried to attack you,” he whispers. “i… i did something to him.”

there is a beat in the air before he keeps talking.

“i heard you crying, and so i went there, and i saw you and… you just felt so familiar to me.  and i had to save you, so i killed that man and,”

he puts his face in his hands.

“(y/n), i’m a monster. i’m a monster and you shouldn’t love me.”

“why, yuta?” you whisper as you sit up to move closer to him.

“because, that man… i killed him and drank his blood,” his whispers. “(y/n),”

“yes, yuta?” you get up off the bed.

“i’m a vampire.”

the air between the both of you is silent for only a second, yuta screwing his eyes shut as he braces the impact of you possibly not believing him and laughing in his face, or of you screaming in fear before begging him to leave your house and to never see him again.

he fears for the worst, hoping that whatever happens, the least hurtful comes to truth.

but while his eyes are screwed shut, he does not hear you at all - he does not smell you, he does not feel your presence.

he only opens his eyes when he feels the cool, sharp metal against the skin of his neck. he gasps when his eyes meet yours - the same flames burning in your irises, but now they burn clearer.

you never housed the eyes of his lover.

you housed the eyes of his lover’s killer.

you smile at him sweetly while you press the blade of bloodlust against his skin.

“your highness,” you whisper. “it’s nice to see you again.”

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Listener Mailbag - Sept. 30, 2019

Listener feedback is valuable to us, and we love it when someone takes the time to reach out and engage us in conversation!  

This listener offers several compelling and interesting counter-points to the previous listener-letter’s assertion that the imbalances regarding McCartney’s critical reputation (and fandom toxicity regarding McCartney in general) have been redressed.  We don’t agree that they have, and this listener has made many similar observations.

Please feel free to email us at akompodcast at gmail dot com, send us an ask, or a Tumblr message. We love hearing from you!

Listener’s letter:  

Thank you guys so much for all of your hard work on this podcast! I’ve had an absolute blast listening to all the episodes, and I’m sure there are many who look forward to it just as much as I do. My letter is partially in response to another listener’s letter (the one who stressed that the jean-jacket narrative is no longer as prevalent as it once was).

I really loved your response, and I simply wanted to express that, whatever their experience with the Beatles’ narrative might’ve been, mine has been the exact opposite. I’m pretty young and my parents never really listened to the Beatles. I knew about the Beatles and Paul McCartney, but I was so naive to their story that it never really clicked that Paul was even in the Beatles until I became immersed in their lore (I had never even heard of George Harrison. Whoops, sorry Georgie). So, I was as blank a slate as they come.

I’ve been absolutely devouring Beatles media for the past three months. And being a Paul fan in 2019? Still really difficult due to the toxicity of the fandom. Obscure books about John Lennon or the group as a whole are far easier to track down than Paul books.

It took an embarrassingly long time to discover that Paul even had an authorized semi-autobiography. (The cringeworthy lack of attention toward Ringo and George hasn’t escaped my notice, either. Their legacy has been seriously neglected) And a lot of the books I’ve managed to get my hands on tend to take unprovoked jabs at Paul’s legacy: two of the “Paul books” I’ve bought recently were prefaced, essentially, with “I’ve never liked Paul because I resented the way the women in my life so obviously enjoyed him.” Both the Norman and Clayson biographies began this way, and it just seemed so unnecessary.

Now I have to do extensive research before purchase to avoid wasting money on books that disdain Paul for qualities outside of his control. It was baffling that these men thought, despite their personal jealousies, that they were qualified to not only write biographies but to include their personal issues in the preface without having their legitimacy questioned. I’d never seen anything like it.

When books or media praise him, the majority of it seems to be for his appearance. Even Cynthia Lennon, bless her old lady heart (loved her book John, by the way, read it ‘cause you guys recommended it), when it came to describing each Beatle in an interview, described a man who had been a true friend to her for decades as ‘Pretty… so, so pretty.’ The other three Beatles consistently get remarks as to their wit and talent, but few people, even some of his close friends, seem to get past Paul’s looks.

To the untrained, twenty-something eye, Paul comes across as something of an adorable, grandad figure, kind of oddly amorphous in his legacy, rather than the musical genius and powerhouse he actually is. When I started to seek out his music, I was shocked at all the familiar melodies that I’d heard hundreds of times before without ever knowing the artist. His music feels really fresh and relevant to me, not at all dated, a huge contrast to the affable, aging persona I’ve been fed by the media.

Paul is my favorite Beatle, but I’m not looking for media that overtly glorifies Paul in relation to his former bandmates. I just want to have historically factual, fair media that pays respect to the people who have shaped my life and occasionally comforted me with their art. And I don’t want to feel like I should have to be ashamed of my enjoyment just because a group of men found my appreciation vapid and aggravating, for one reason or another.

That’s why I’ve so thoroughly enjoyed the AKOM podcast: it feels like, in a room full of toxic men screaming at the top of their lungs about nothing at all and demanding it become truth, that women (and other varying genders) can still bravely sit down amidst it all, have tea, and breathe some sanity into the stupidity. Thanks again!

Our Response:

Thank you for your wonderful letter. We appreciate the feedback. We love long letters and certainly understand having a lot to say on the subject!

We have had very similar experiences to yours and agree: 

“Paul comes across as something of an adorable, grandad figure, kind of oddly amorphous in his legacy, rather than the musical genius and powerhouse he actually is.” 

This bothers us as well. Paul does not get the artistic credit he deserves. 

Paul himself has shown frustration with the label “the cute Beatle” —can you imagine having written some of the world’s most famous songs and being labeled “cute” while you partner is labeled “smart” or “intellectual” or “genius”? It must be hugely frustrating. Perhaps so much so that he has taken to giving HIMSELF the label of genius recently! We’re all for it!

Unfortunately, it a label and bias that exists. Problem is, Paul is cute and charming! But he is also deep and complex and brilliant and sexy, yet so many writers and observers aren't able to see beyond the surface-level read of him. This hasn’t always been the case though, when we examine contemporaneous reviews of the Beatles, we find that in the 60s Paul’s genius was taken more seriously by some (yes, he had the label “the cute Beatle” but his talents were also taken seriously, especially in the UK); the break-up seems to have altered his critical evaluation.

You said: “When I started to seek out his music, I was shocked at all the familiar melodies that I’d heard hundreds of times before without ever knowing the artist.”

 We are thrilled that you have discovered them. I felt this way about Paul’s solo work as well—I  had been led to believe, by critics, that Paul’s solo music wasn’t up to par with his Beatles work, so approached it with trepidation. What a pleasure it was finding out they were so very wrong. Paul’s post-Beatles work is a joy to explore. It is a treasure chest of incredible music. 

“His music feels really fresh and relevant to me, not at all dated, a huge contrast to the affable, aging persona I’ve been fed by the media.”

Exactly, and Paul’s post-Beatles story is very romantic and relevant as well. Paul’s post-Beatles period hasn’t been significantly romanticized or mythologized….yet. 

The McCartneys themselves do a good job of it, but it hasn’t taken hold in the popular imagination. Based on Paul’s "persona" as it is portrayed in popular culture, one would think Paul spent his entire post-break-up career pining for the Beatles and writing sub-standard but commercially popular music rather than having inspired a whole other music genre and created a goldmine of incredible music.

“Paul is my favorite Beatle, but I’m not looking for media that overtly glorify Paul in relation to his former bandmates. I just want to have historically factual, fair media that pays respect to the people who have shaped my life and occasionally comforted me with their art.”

Wouldn’t that be lovely! But it’s tough to find. It seems some of these biases are so deeply ingrained and embedded in the Beatles story that it colors the view of everything Paul-related. For example, what is this so-called “granny music”? This isn’t even a thing! It’s not a genre, yet Paul’s music is continually given this label. It's time to stop letting John’s labels, which were given in a fit of anger and defensiveness, define Paul and Paul’s music. Again, there are some deep underlying assumptions in this fandom that need to be challenged. 

“And I don’t want to feel like I should have to be ashamed of my enjoyment just because a group of men found my appreciation vapid and aggravating, for one reason or another.  That’s why I’ve so thoroughly enjoyed the AKOM podcast: it feels like, in a room full of toxic men screaming at the top of their lungs about nothing at all and demanding it become truth, that women (and other varying genders) can still bravely sit down amidst it all, have tea, and breathe some sanity into the stupidity. “

 Ha! Well, we are thrilled to have inspired enjoyment and relaxation with a good cup of tea! We understand the pleasure of not wanting to constantly throw your cup at the speaker!

“Can't wait for the next episode!!”

We hope you have enjoyed our latest episodes on the Break-up and LIB. We think we managed to challenge some deeply held believes and assumptions with our analysis. 

Thanks again for the letter, we really enjoyed it! Please continue to share your thoughts if you are inspired!

Best, 

Diana and the AKOM Crew 

[elliemarchetti]

Somewhere to Start (part 3)

After a while, and thanks to @yourmorbidlyobesefatfriend‘s interest, here’s the third part of my latest Krumione fic

Part 1

Part 2

Words: 1207

That night at eleven-thirty, Hermione, who had pretended to go to bed early, slipped down the stairs and through the common room. Only a few remained. The Creevey brothers had managed to get hold of a good number of "Support Cedric Diggory" brooches and tried to bewitch them in order to transform the slogans into "Support Harry Potter". Given the result they were getting, it would’ve been better if they created new ones, especially if they intended to use them on Tuesday, but it still pleased her: as the first task approached, Harry was regaining popularity among his friends and if all went as she hoped, Ron would have asked for forgiveness and everything would come back as before. Almost. Because before Hermione would certainly not have gone to the library in the middle of the night, risking to be punished by Flinch, to meet the attractive representative of a foreign school. But things could change very quickly, and she couldn't have been happier to see Viktor's silhouette, barely lit by the light of a single candle.

"I thought it was a good idea to have some light," he said, trying to keep his voice low, although he didn't do very well, "but not too much, otherwise they'll find out."

Hermione smiled. How many times he must have done such things in Durmstrang.

"I have been here for a while and I was looking at the lake and the forest.” he said, and somehow his tone seemed nostalgic, as if he missed Durmstrang, or perhaps Bulgaria. “Where I come from the landscape is not very different but is always covered with snow. Does it snow often here?” he asked, turning back to look at her. There was something in his eyes, a spark, that knotted her insides. She had been afraid before. For Merlin's beard, he had lived in terror for three years! But if that was the price to pay for being friends with Harry Potter she was happy to pay it. What she felt now, however, was a different fear: she didn't fear for her life, nor did she suspect that Viktor wanted to hurt her, but she imagined what he could go to aim from a library meeting in the middle of the night and she didn't know if she was ready or not. So she approached the window too, stiff as if Mad-Eye Moody's glass eye were suddenly spying on her from behind the shelves, and looked at the lake and Hagrid’s hut. She was about to respond to Viktor when she saw movement near the Beauxbatons carriage. It was Hagrid and Madame Maxime, who were on their way to the Forbidden Forest.

"What do you think they're doing?" Hermione asked Viktor, who in turn squeezed his eyes to see better.

"A romantic date?" he suggested, trying not to laugh at the idea.

"We should follow them" suggested Hermione. In a normal situation, it would never have occurred to her to leave school in the middle of the night but that was a real emergency, so she guessed that if she had to explain to Professor McGonagall what happened and why she was near the Forbidden Forest at that hour in the night, for some reason she might even have understood.

“Why?” asked Viktor, perplexed.

"Aren't you curious to know what is the maximum of romanticism for two half giants?” she asked, trying to sound amused. She was pretty sure that Viktor would accept, if he thought it was something that could actually interest her, and she wasn't wrong.

"The only problem," she pointed out, "is how not to let us be discovered."

Of course, she could have borrowed Harry’s Invisibility Cloak but she wasn't sure he would have been so inclined to leave it to her, and if it had happened he would have asked her a lot of questions that she had neither time nor desire to answer.

“There is a hex…” Viktor suggested, though he didn't seem particularly convinced. "It's very complex and I can't use it on myself." he explained, and perhaps this was enough to convince Hermione, who was expecting nothing but a reason to show how good she was on the field and not only to organize things for the S.P.E.W.

"You could teach me. You would be amazed to see how quickly I learn." she replied with what she hoped would be a convincing smile.

It was not exactly the evening that Viktor had imagined spending, but he could not said to be unhappy, after they had deduced that the spell did not make them invisible only to the outside world but also to themselves. So, though with difficulty, they had taken each other's hands, not to get lost, he said, and they had left the castle undisturbed and almost ran down the hill that led to the Forbidden Forest.

"How do we know where they went?" Viktor asked, once he reached the green wall of trees. But Hermione, of course, had already thought of everything and pulled something out of her pocket, showing Viktor something he could not define but probably the reason she had wanted to stop in front of the half-giant hut’s window. For a moment, Viktor was tempted to ask her if she needed help, assuming that no one in the fourth year mastered a tracking charm so well, but when he heard her whisper the spell and the thing began to shoot away in the trees, he had to change his mind. Although he knew how smart she was, that girl couldn't stop surprising him.

 The piece of vase fell to the ground but Hermione no longer needed it for a while. For a moment, she had feared that the sound of her heavy breathing, or perhaps even her accelerated heartbeat, would betray them, but the screaming men and the deafening roars would conceal anything. Viktor was speechless, and even Hermione didn't know what to say in front of the four adult dragons that spit flames of nineteen feet. Sure, Hermione had already seen a dragon, but it was a puppy, although his first flare had scared her anyway. Those creatures, on the other hand, looked evil and rose in the space enclosed by thick wooden boards, which Hermione didn't find to be a great idea, roaring and puffing.

"They are beautiful." Viktor whispered. "Terrifying, of course, but also beautiful."

Hermione didn't feel like disagreeing, though she didn't understand what men found beautiful in creatures that spit out torrents of fire from mouths with fangs as long as her arm.

"Do you want to see them more closely?" she asked, and though she received no reply, she deduced that Viktor had shaken his head because he didn't even take a step. She did not blame him: it was difficult not to notice beasts of almost fifty feet in height, some even with bright colors, like the silvery blue or the green one, which growled and tried to bite the wizards on the ground. It could not have been a coincidence that four dragons were brought to Hogwarts just a few days after the first task of the tournament: they should have fought them, and Viktor had to get ready for it.

[richincolor]

Group Discussion: Patron Saints of Nothing

Hey, everyone! The Rich in Color bloggers have gotten together to discuss Randy Ribay’s PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING. As always, there will likely be spoilers in our conversation. If you haven’t yet read it, we recommend you go get it.

A powerful coming-of-age story about grief, guilt, and the risks a Filipino-American teenager takes to uncover the truth about his cousin’s murder.

Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte’s war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story.

Hoping to uncover more about Jun and the events that led to his death, Jay is forced to reckon with the many sides of his cousin before he can face the whole horrible truth — and the part he played in it.

As gripping as it is lyrical, Patron Saints of Nothing is a page-turning portrayal of the struggle to reconcile faith, family, and immigrant identity.

Crystal: Families are complicated. Very complicated. Jay likely knew that on one level, but as he gets re-acquainted with his extended family in the Philippines, this becomes even more obvious. I found it interesting that Jay felt closer to his cousins than his siblings. And even more notable was his relationship with his uncle, but for completely different reasons. I think his changing opinions of his uncle were evidence that he was maturing. He begins to see that not only are family relationships complex, but people are too. We’re not simply good or evil. Individuals have so many facets.

Jessica: As someone who grew up in a different country than my cousins, I definitely connected with Jay’s relationship with Jun — close in some ways, distant in others, and overshadowed by the regret that they’ve drifted apart. The letters the two exchange really brought Jun to life, and his initial introduction — consoling Jay — sets the tone for a central conflict: The ways Jay is connected to his heritage, and the ways his perspective differs, as someone who grew up in America. I’m in awe of how PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING managed to thread the needle on this conflict, and show the fraught complexities of family, and coming from an immigrant background.

Audrey: I really liked how PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING tackled complicated family dynamics between and across generations. Whether its Jay and his immediate family, the relationships among the parents’ generation, or his slow-building connection to Grace, there is a lot simmering under the surface. Not only are different people actively keeping secrets from one another, but Jay is also at a significant disadvantage due to language and cultural barriers. (Side note: As someone who can’t communicate much with her own grandmother due to a language barrier, Jay’s interactions with his grandparents were painfully familiar.) I really appreciated the scene with Jun’s service for this reason; even though Jay couldn’t understand most of what his other family members said, it was obvious that Jun had mattered to them all despite the ways they had/had not shown it previously.

K. Imani: I agree with you Audrey about how the novel tackled the dynamics across generations. In my extended family, so many stories are unknown because the elders refuse to speak on it, like Jay’s father about why he left the Philippines. The last years of Jun’s life would have been another untold story had not Jay decided to seek it out and stir up trouble in his family. I could truly empathize with his struggle and his frustration with his family, specifically his uncle. I feel like Jay’s insistence on learning about Jun and his family helped not only himself but the rest of his family.

Crystal: A large part of this story focuses on Jay’s connections to his family and to the Philippines. His father explains that “It’s easy to romanticize a place when it’s far away. Filipino Americans have a tendency to do that.” He goes on to say, “But as many good things as there are, there are many bad things, things not so easy to see from far away. When you are close, though, they are sometimes all you see.” Jay definitely has to square his ideas about the Philippines with the reality he meets.

Jessica: Ack! This was a big deal to me… so naturally, I’ve already discussed it in my earlier answer — but yeah, that line from his father is so important, especially in stories where an American goes back to the motherland. I feel that, as someone who’s always dreaming of Taiwan.

Audrey: Jay marched into his extended family’s lives (and the Philippines) with a lot of ignorance and multiple preconceptions, and by the end of it, he left with a better understanding of them and himself–and a desire to close the distance between them. What elevates this from the painful White Person Goes to a Foreign Country to Find/Better Themselves narrative is that Jay gets called out on his ignorance and assumptions constantly, and he isn’t a savior who sweeps in and fixes everything. There are Filipinos already doing the hard work and who will continue to do that work after he leaves. At the same time, Jay also has claim to his motherland, and his uncle’s gatekeeping and frequent digs at Jay are clearly unhelpful. I think a lot of diaspora folks will find things to relate to in Jay’s story.

Crystal: This book deals with President Duterte’s war on drugs. The abuse of drugs is such a huge social issue. It seems when people declare these wars on drugs, they actually seem to declare war on people. And the people they are warring against are often the ones most negatively impacted by the drug use. Jun’s cousin Grace tells him that Jun thought “that those suffering from addiction needed to be helped, not to be arrested because their addiction was as much genetics as it was a choice. And those pushing need to be employed, not killed, because most of them were only trying to survive.” Beyond that, looking for the corruption that allowed the drugs to get into the country would also be a good place to start. It’s so much easier to demonize the addicts and the pushers than solving many of the problems that lead to the drug use — especially when the people in power actually benefit from looking like they are working on the problem, but still leaving the whole system in place. This story helps share the human side of this war.

Audrey: PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING did a great job of pointing out the complexity and hypocrisy surrounding this war on drugs and how easy it is for people to start looking at one another as less worthy of life simply because they are visible symptoms of larger social ills. Even Jay doesn’t want to believe that Jun could have been using drugs, and that leads him to erroneous conclusions for much of the novel. It’s simpler for those in power to make an enemy of those who are suffering rather than doing the complicated, expensive work of tackling corruption and the problems that lead to drug use in the first place.

K. Imani: I agree with both of you that this novel does an excellent job of putting a human face on drug abuse, and highlights the issue with Duterte’s drug war, that sadly, many in the US do not know about. It definitely showed that the way to deal with drug abuse is to treat it as a health issue, rather than a criminal issue, because Jun wasn’t a criminal. Jun was a troubled, but giving soul, and if he’d had treatment instead of killed, he would really make an impact in his world. Additionally, I feel like this highlight of Duterte’s drug war also shows how power corrupts and how people can fall so easily into following along to hold onto power. I know that we learned different sides of Uncle Maning, however, his blind faithfulness to Duterte and the drug war disturbed me. The belief to do anything for the “law and order” and the “safety of the people”, when in reality the ones in power are the ones we fear. This hit a little too close to home to me.

Crystal: Many families have secrets or things they really don’t talk about much, but there were many things going on here that Jay was learning for the first time. Some of his family members are working to help girls escape from trafficking situations and he never even knew. It makes me think about how many things people are keeping from each other. And like Jay wonders, why do we not share more and love more when we all have the capacity to love so deeply? We certainly miss out, but it’s protective to stay separate and keep things hidden.

Audrey: Some of the best scenes in the book are when Jay is able to bridge that gap between himself and someone else in his family. It takes courage to speak and the willingness to be vulnerable, and Jay is starting to embrace both by the end of the book. Jun’s letters were excellent examples of this, as was Jay’s final letter back. I was really pleased with how the book ended and how Jay had changed in this regard when he came back to the U.S.

K. Imani: Without giving away the ending, I loved the way Patron Saints ended because Jay and his father’s conversation ended the cycle of keeping secrets. In the beginning of the book, Jay didn’t really have a deep friendship with anyone and I felt sad for him, but clearly it was because he was used to growing up with a closed off family. Clearly, he needed an outlet and I feel like the trip to the Philippines and his brief time with Mia, who became a real friend, helped him express himself for the first time in years. It was also very brave of him to speak out to his family, but it overall lead to a healthy change for Jay and his entire family. I almost wanted an epilogue at the end to see how much his family had changed after Jay’s experience, as I would have loved to see how Jay’s relationship with his father changed for the better.

Crystal: I haven’t seen many books set in the Philippines, but I’ve really enjoyed the ones I’ve read — ANGEL DE LA LUNA AND THE 5TH GLORIOUS MYSTERY (review here) and DURAN DURAN, IMELDA MARCOS, AND ME (adult book with YA appeal). Have you all read many other books set there? Do you have any to recommend?

Jessica: This is a short story and not a YA book, but it’s really good so I’m going to take the chance to plug it anyway: “Asphalt, River, Mother, Child” by Isabel Yap on Strange Horizons. The story tackles the what’s going on in the Philippines right now, and it’s incredible and heartbreaking. (Please check the content warnings before reading.)

Audrey: You know, I think PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING is the first book I’ve read set in the Philippines! I have read works by Filipino-American writers before, but this was the first one actually set in the Philippines, so far as I remember.

K. Imani: I read ANGEL DE LA LUNA AND THE 5TH GLORIOUS MYSTERY as well and really loved it, so I second Crystal’s recommendation. I don’t think I’ve read any others, but I’m definitely open to reading more in the future.

Extra: Salve Villarosa (@cuckooforbooks) a BookTuber in the Phillipines created two great videos about this book. The first is her review of the book and the second is a Q&A with Randy Ribay during his book launch in Manila.

To add your thoughts, please send out a tweet or comment section on the Rich in Color blog post.

[grumpyslav]

Wicked Saints Review ★★★ 1/2

This is a Slavic inspired fantasy. I am Slavic. A perfect match, right?

Well, no. Not really. This book has some good themes but it takes itself too seriously for what ends up being a typical YA fantasy (and there was potential for much more!) But hey, it has a sexy villain love interest so I am sure it will be a great success. 

Warning: this will be Long. I have Many Opinions. 

Plot: Nadya is a cleric (magic user) in a Russia-inspired country, Kalyazin. Her power comes from gods: she can communicate with the entire pantheon of gods and they give her magical powers whenever she asks. (We are told that gods sometimes don’t listen or that Nadya has to behave in a certain way to be on gods’ good side but we never witness that in the story.) The country is at war with a Polish-inspired country Tranavia because of religious differences. The gods were banished from Tranavia and blood magic is used instead, which is considered heresy in Kalyazin. When her monastery is attacked by Tranavian high prince Serefin, Nadya has to run away. She stumbles upon a Tranavian blood mage Malachiasz and his two sidekicks, who offer help. At some point, it is decided that the best way to end the war and bring gods back to Tranavia is to assassinate Serefin’s father, the king of Tranavia. This is where the real plot kicks in. (Which I will not spoil at this moment.) 

Magic system: An interesting idea, but the rules are never explained. That is probably one of the key problems with the story. We learn that Kalyazi clerics (Nadya is believed to be the last one) get magic powers from gods. Clerics can typically communicate with only one god, but Nadya can talk to all of them. (Why? Because she is the MC. We don’t know.) She calls the gods by pressing beads on her necklace. Based on the individual god’s power, Nadya can get strength, super speed, the ability to spy on her enemies, etc. A problem here is that we don’t know what is that gods can or cannot do; there are no limits to Nadya’s power. No rules are established so everything feels arbitrary (a key problem with the book’s magic system). This is a bad narrative choice, but in the second part of the book we learn that it is not so important what gods can do; all that is relevant is that they are the ones giving Nadya power.

Then we have Tranavians. They use blood magic: they always carry a book of spells and when they want to cast a spell, they tear a page from the book, cut themselves and bleed over the page. There are (presumably) many different spells that can do many different things, but just like with Kalyazi gods, we don’t have a clue what is possible and what is not. And just like Kalyazi gods, it turns out that it’s not so important what blood magic can do, it is important that this is blood magic.

All these things become relevant in the second part of the book, but by then it’s a bit late. The book starts adding exceptions and different approaches to magic but with no proper establishment and with no rules, we can’t judge this new stuff properly. Is it supposed to be scary? Is it supposed to be surprising? There are hints that some of it is new and never heard before, but it is never properly anchored. So you just go with the flow and take the author’s word that yes, this thing happening is Important. 

Characters: Nadya is a solid character that gets betrayed by the narrative. She is realistic as a naive, sheltered young woman who tries to find her place in the world, who makes mistakes but tries her best. She does all she can to have agency and be proactive. Unfortunately, narrative doesn’t let her. Her whole existence is marked by her lack of agency, because she depends on gods’ powers. In the second part of the book she grows a little and starts discovering her own power, but it’s late because this is where Malachiasz takes over as the most important character and Nadya gets sidelined. Sucks to be you, Nadya, but we gotta make room for a bad boy. 

Serefin is a solid character, although it is unclear why we spend almost half of the book in his head. There is no significant character development nor plot to warrant this. But he works as a character, so I have no major complaints. The only downside is that stuff such as his excessive drinking is used as a shorthand for characterization. 

Malachiasz is, arguably, the main character in the book. Both in literal and in meta sense. Literal, because the whole story ends up being about him. In meta sense, because one’s enjoyment of the book largely depends on whether the reader likes this character or not. Clearly written to be the core of the story’s secrets and adored by the author, there is no much room for those who might dislike him. He is a love child of Darkling and Kylo Ren and, for some reason, this is portrayed as interesting or worthy to carry the whole book. ?

Points for not making excuses for the romance: Malachiasz is portrayed as terrifying and there are no excuses there, take it or leave it. What sucks is that a man being terrifying is portrayed as a good thing, so in the end you do get your typical YA abusive bad boy (will this trope die already?) But at least we are spared explanations on why Malachiasz is actually a cinnamon roll, so at least that’s something. (Okay, not really. We do need to talk why this type of a man is romanticized over and over again. It is a bad trope, a lazy, incorrect and dangerous trope. But it’s a rant for another day.) 

Ending: The book ends on a high note but without major twists. I wouldn’t say the ending is predictable per se, but it’s more down to lack of rules in the magic system than clever writing. Still, a solid ending.

Representation: The author is clearly into Slavic folklore and it shows. For all the ways in which Wicked Saints resemble Grishaverse, I have to say that there is a clear effort to make setting respectably Slavic. Language aspects are good and certain things (in plot, aesthetics) are clearly inspired by Slavic cultures. At the same time, the story doesn’t feel Slavic at all. Duncan gets certain details right but misses the whole point and symbolism behind Slavic cultures and folklore. Which is unfortunate. Slavic folklore is highly symbolic and should not be taken literally. Wicked Saints is too literal to be Slavic, too gothic to be Slavic, to Western to be Slavic. 

And there is the whole issue of real-life history between Russia and Poland (which is not on Westerners to adapt as they please), as well as the fact that, once more, we have an image of Slavic cultures as wild, violent, always at war with each other, persecuting anyone who disagrees with their beliefs, etc, etc. I am aware that trashing Slavic cultures was not author’s intent (nor is that the point of the book), but it remains that it follows typical Western views of Eastern Europe, which is not helpful. 

When it comes to other types of diversity, there is an attempt but nothing of substance comes out of it. There are female characters in the position of power. Four POC characters (mainly sidekicks.) One female character who is into women (lesbian? bi? pan?) A few characters that could be understood as disabled (missing an eye, for example). That’s all I can think of. 

Verdict:  ★★★ ½ (Certain aspects deserve five stars, others fall to two)

A flip review: I’d say the focus on theology is the book’s strong point. More of that, please. Duncan opens a dialogue not commonly seen in YA books: about beliefs, religion, free will. All important, significant themes that so many authors don’t want to tackle in a complex manner. And points for doing research, particularly in linguistics. (If only Duncan didn’t want this to be so black metal we might have had a setting that does Slavic folklore justice.) But if we ignore real Slavic cultures and folklore, the whole thing does set itself apart in aesthetics from similar YA offerings. It also doesn’t shy away from confusing her readers, if need be. Duncan clearly knows what kind of a story she wants to tell and what kind of aesthetics she wants to achieve. With so many bland YA offerings, it is a refreshing thing to see. 

[auctes]

15-25 ;V

 OVERESTIMATING  MYSELF  ON  MAIN      //      @sanguamnis​ .

015 .     are  they  most  likely  to  fight  with  their  fists  or  their  tongue  ?

this  is  implicitly  linked  to  the  next  question ,   but  fukawa  knows  she’s  got  a  way  with  words .   while  she  can  fight  back  physically  if  necessary ,   her  most  natural  inclination  of  defense  is  to  insult ,   manipulate ,   to  deride ,   or  to  blaspheme .   fukawa’s  defense  is  the  offensive  :   when  she  feels  threatened ,   she  will  automatically  respond  with  what  she  knows  is  the  most  pointed ,   most  personally  hurtful  thing  she  can  say  to  a  person .   she  exploits  weaknesses  as  a  means  of  removing  herself  from  the  line  of  fire ,   and  she’s  bloody  good  at  it .

016 .     what  is  their  choice  of  weapon  ?

given  the  choice  ?   her  words .   her  novels .   what  i  find  so  interesting  is  the  absent  commentary  that  the  canon  makes  on  fukawa’s  career ,   and  upon  her  ability  as  a  writer .   we   know  that  she’s  universally  acclaimed ,   but  also  that  she  is  able  to  sway  public  opinion  on  even  asinine  topics  with  her  enormous  reach  ;   if  fukawa  has  an  agenda ,   her  demographic  becomes  her  greatest  weapon .   she  could  destroy  a  person’s  life  in  five  hundred  pages ,   if  she  so  wished .   probably  less .   drafts  not  permitted ,   she’d  still  take  a  verbal  crack  at  it .

017 .     when  does  your  character  think  that  violence  is  justified  or  deserved  ?

short  answer  ?   never .   fukawa’s  life  is  already  inundated  with  associations  of  violence  :   some  repressed ,   and  some  ungraciously  remaining  within  her  memory .   she  has  been  wrongfully  accused  of  being  an  inherently  violent  person  who  doles  out  a  distorted  measure  of  personal  justice ,   and  that  perception  has  ruined  her  life .   fukawa  is  more  of  a  pragmatist  :   she  believes  that  some  people  do  deserve  to  be  punished ,   yes ,   and  she  will  not  mourn  the  deaths  of  awful  people .   but  enduring  a  game  of  mandated  murder  for  survival  inevitably  alters  your  point  of  view  on  the  necessity  and  applicability  of  violence .   she  can’t  justify  it .

018 .     your  character  wakes  up  to  find  that  war  has  been  declared .   what  do  they  do  ?

go  back  to  bed ,   honestly .

019 .     if  they  could  have  a  super  power ,   what  would  they  choose ?

here’s  the  thing .   if  the  super  power  was  optional ,   fukawa  wouldn’t  choose  to  have  one .   super  powers  are  too  ingrained  within  the  world  of  fantasy  for  her  to  be  able  to  completely  buy  into  the  concept ,   or  commit  to  having  one .   she  would  rather  remain  a  mundane  person  who  is  grounded  in  reality  than  test  the  boundary  of  fiction .   but  if  i  had  a  choice   —————   and  i’m  discarding  quirk  discussion  here ,   because  that’s  another  dialogue  within  itself   —————   superhuman  suggestion  and  mind  manipulation ,   quite  honestly .   it’s  something  she  ...   has  more  or  less  mastered  as  it  is ,   so  it’s  not  too  farfetched  to  imagine  that  in  a  fantastical  capacity .

020 .     what  are  their  hobbies  ?

hobbies  ?   what  hobbies  ?   her  life  is  work ,   suffering ,   and  occasionally  sleeping .   i  would  say  writing ,   but  when  fukawa  is  writing  professionally ,   she  rarely  has  time  to  do  so  for  recreation .   she  reads  whenever  she  can ,   enjoys  going  to  galleries  and  museums ,   and  studying  humanities - wing  subjects  yields  some  measure  of  stress  relief  for  her .   syo ,   on  the  other  hand ,   is  a  more  practical  person  with  a  strong  spacial  awareness  :   she  enjoys  building  furniture ,   interior  decorating ,   high  risk  adrenaline  sports ,   and  carpentry .

021 .     how  do  they  display  affection  ?

affection  from  fukawa  is  highly  dependent  on  the  subject  and  the  nature  of  that  relationship .   she  can’t  offer  consolidating  words ,   and  physical  contact  is  a  process .   sharing  her  work   —————   her  honest ,   personal  work ,   and  not  her  professional  bibliography   —————   is  sharing  a  part  of  herself  that  fukawa  often  deems  unsafe  to  outwardly  express .   there  is  a  measure  of  deep  trust  involved  in  writing  a  piece  for  someone ,   sharing  her  poetry ,   or  telling  them  about  things  she  writes  for  herself  as  opposed  to  for  an  audience .   it’s  honestly  an  intimate  experience  for  her ,   as  fukawa  connects  with  her  own  humanity  through  writing  ;   she  can  perceive  when  those  closest  to  her  need  a  hug ,   or  their  hands  held ,   or  their  hair  stroked   —————   but  honest  affection  from  fukawa  is  simply  sharing  her  heart .

022 .     what  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  they’ve  ever  seen  ?

byakuya  togami .   i  actually  have  an  answer  for  this ,   because  i think  it  came  up  in  an  in - character  conversation  on  the  second ...?   killing  game  server .   the  most  beautiful  thing  fukawa  has  ever  seen  was  a  beached  trawler  wreck  on  a  stretch  of  sand  near  her  home .   understand  that  what  fukawa  perceives  as  beautiful  could  be  slightly  abnormal  :   the  imagery  she  employs  in  her  little  love  poems  is  ostensibly  macabre ,   and  she  is  inspired  by  personal  tragedies  and  trauma .   i  remember  waxing  poetic  about  the  rusted  hull ,   and  the  aquatic  plantlife  that  dried  and  rotted  into  the  bow ,   but  fukawa  is  most  profoundly  moved  by  things  we  would  find  ugly ,    or  depressing ,   or  confronting .   life  in  stasis ,   nature  reclaiming  appropriated  land ,   and  transcendentalism  moves  fukawa  unspeakably .   it’s  nice  imagery ,   and  was  deeply  symbolic .

023 .     what  do  they  consider  beautiful  in  others ,   physically  ?

fukawa  does  not  have  a  physical  type .   however ,   i  distinctly  remember  writing  something  once  in  which  i stated  that  she  falls  in  love  with  parts  as  opposed  to  the  sum  of them .   she  will  hyperfixate  and  romanticize  a  single  aspect  of  a  person  :   their  eyes ,   their  arms ,   their  voice ,   their  posture ,   and  for  as  long  as  she  loves  them ,   it  will  be  all  that  matters  to  her .

edit  :   i  found  it ,   and  i  chucked  it  under  a  read  more  below .   you  can  skim  it  if  you  want  to  see  what  i  mean .  

024 .     what  do  they  consider  ugly  in  others ,   physically  ?

exactly  what  she  fixated  upon  in  the  above  answer ,   usually .   consider  fukawa  falling  in  love  on  a  case - by - case  basis  :   when  she’s  attracted  to  someone ,   and  it  ends  horribly  for  her ,   she’ll  condemn  herself  by  demonising  every  precious  thought  she  had  about  a  person .   she’ll  curse  her  own  stupidity ,   her  frivolity ,   her   foolishness  for  thinking  another  person  could  ever  love  her ,   and  that  they  could  hurt  her  like  they  inevitably  do .   everything  she  found  beautiful  in  them  becomes  abhorrent ,   until  she  can’t  stand  to  think  about  them  a  moment  longer .

025 .     what  do  they  consider  beautiful  in  others  personality - wise  ?

this  one  is  easier .   fukawa  is  attracted  to  narcissists .   she  likes  self - assuredness ,   self  importance ,   and  the  incredibly  toxic  degradation  and  dehumanisation  to  which  a  narcissist’s  peers  are  subject .  

on  the  lighter  side ,   she  appreciates  courage  and  strength  of  character .   she  is  attracted  to  people  who  are  decisive ,   who  are  sure  of  who  they  are ,   and  who  are  not  afraid  to  stand  up  for  themselves  or  others .   intelligence  is  a  bonus ,   but  she  is  most  likely  to  swear  loyalty  to  a  person  who  engenders  their  values  into  their  entire  being .   bravery ,   occasional  recklessness ,   and  a  strong  drive  to  do  what  is  right  for  no  other  reason  than  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do .

it  just  takes  some  growing  up  on  her  part .

touko  fukawa  does  not  fall in  love  with  people .   she  falls  in  love  with  their  parts ,  as  opposed  to  their  wholes ;  the  attributes  of  which  come  as  freely  and  fondly  to  her  as  the  sweet  surrender  of  sleep  as  she  vanquishes  a  crucial  deadline .   love ,  as  a  tangible  epiphany ,  comes  to  her  first  within  the  pages  of  a  novel .   this  is  the  part  she  likes :   the  sweeping  grandeur  of  a  complex  indemnity ,  and  the  anticipation  of  knowing  it  for  herself .   ( she  doesn't  remember  the  rest .   but  LOVE  sticks  to  her like  yellow  wallpaper . )

she's  ten  years  old  when  love  first  draws  her  into  its  vices  —  in  the  pleasing  lilt  of  a  boy  whose  words  consume  her  heart  like  a  forest  fire .   his  voice  carries  the  implication  of  her  very  first  protagonist :  a  sweet - nothing  man  who  brings  the  first  of  touko's  hopeful - hearted  following  to  pieces .   it's  music  /  it's  magic  /  it's  more  than  her  very  beginnings  can  stand .   it  harshens  her  tone  by  virtue ,  and  underscores  the  idiosyncrasies  of  her  speech .   she  knows  the  words  to  this  elegy ;  they  fall  easily  onto  paper .

paper  she  finds  pinned  to  the  bulletin  board ,  beneath  the  book  club  sign - up  rota .   ( and  here's  when  she  remembers  the  other  side  of  love ,  and  why  she'd  submerged  it  in  far  more  saturated  sentiments . )   his  voice  still  burgeons  in  her  when  it  tightens  over  callous  condemnations  of  her  folly ;  touko  finds  it  searingly  sublime  when  he  laughs  at  her  heart's  punchline .   ( she's  sure  it  was  mesmerizing ,  still ,  when  he  was  BEGGING  her  wild - eyed  mr  hyde  to  put  down  the  scissors,  i'm  sorry ,  i'll  go  out  with  you ,  i'll  do  anything — )

she's  fourteen  years  old  when  love  flags  her  down  in  the  hallway  with  its  strong ,  safe  arms .   touko  fixates  upon  the  crook  of  his  elbow ,  languidly  inclined  against  the  locker ,  as  he  scribbles  a  number  onto  her  palm .  he's  a  swimmer :  broad  and  strong ,  to  her  frail  and  insubstantial .   she  falls  in  love  with  their  duplicity ,  with  bold  and  bashful ,  with  gallant  and  meek ;  with  the  idea  of  falling   ( and  falling ,  and  falling , )  into  those  arms ,  and  letting  them  alleviate  the  chill  that's  endemic  to  her  constitution .

constitution  that  grows  impedingly  more  frail  as  touko  sits ,  alone ,  at  the  back  of  a  dim  theater ;  falling   ( and  falling ,  and  falling , )  into  the  constricting  unease  of  the  dark .   she's  somewhat  thankful  for  the  amnesty  this  grants  for  her  tears  to  flow  freely ;  for  her  face  to  stain  with  the  dimming  remnants  of  hope  that  she'd  foolishly  allowed  herself .   her  own  arms  are  no  substitute ,  but  they  draw  her  into  herself ...  for  as  glorious  as  his  were ,  touko  is  certain  they  weren't  enough  to  overcome  the  monster  that  hung  him  like  a  portrait .

it's  a  silly  game  without  an  end .  a  game  of  bright  eyes ,  and  easy  smiles ;  of  lanky  limbs  and  chiselled  jaws .  again  and  again ,  she  lets  love  deceive  her .   yet  again ,  she  learns  its  true  name .   and  the  bodies  keep  turning ,  and  the  tally  keeps  striking ,  and  the  words  keep  flowing ,  and  it's  back  and  back  and  back  into  the  easier  parts  of  herself  that  make  love  seem  so  REAL .   she  will  never  trust  again .   she  will  never  LOVE  again .  except  that  she  DOES ,  as  her  empire  flows  from  her  fingertips  like  an  endless  rainstorm .

she's  nineteen  years  old   ( believing  she  is  seventeen , )   when  love  pierces  her  palms  and  seizes  her  against  the  wall .   she  likes  to  believe  it  was  earlier ,  in  the  graveyard  of  memories  she's  been  forced  to  disrepute .   she  is  held  captive  here ,  in  the  academy ,  with  her  love  for  him :  the  love  she  endures  for  the  quiet  turning  of  pages  in  the  library ;  for  his  relentless  precision  in  the  courtroom .   for  his  esteem ,  and  his  diligence ,  and  his  velleity  to  survive .   and  yes ,  she  thinks ,  THIS  is  the  love  she  has  intimately  named .

names  that  slide  from  his  beautiful  tongue  with  acridity  and  exactitude .   names  that  give  her  vile  personage  a  substance  she's  been  lacking .   touko  takes  these  verbal  beat - downs  with  vigor  —  and  it's  alright ,  really .   ( no ,  really !   she  doesn't  mind . )   he  only  means  to  villify  the  dispraising  nature  of  her  existence ;  to  give  her  leave  of  this  liminal  word  between  fact  and  fiction .   touko  feels  this  love  in  the  shy  callings  of  her  soul ,  and  in  the  hairline  cracks  of  what  little  composure  she  keeps .   really  —  it's  alright .

touko  fukawa  is  twenty  years  old  when  she  is  forced  to  relearn  her  definition  of  love .   in  TOWA ,  of  all  places ,  where  the  air  is  thick  with  despair - tinged  expulsions  of  god - knows  how  many  lungs .   where  the  skyline  alters  with  each  new   bout  of  destruction ,  and  RED  is  not  a  color ,  but  a  state  of  existence .   byakuya  is  gone .   a  more  cynical ,  more  resilient  touko  stands  in  his  place :  on  feet  that  save  her  from  falling ,  despite  the  debris  below  them .   on  legs  that  practice  perpetual  motion ,  despite  this  underwater - uncertainty  about  her .

genocider  keeps  their  body  intact ;  touko  holds  their  mind  together .   it's  an  empty  partnership ,  but  she's  bitterfly  thankful  for  the  aptitude  to  propel  herself  from  one  scenario  to  the  next .   thankful  for  the  motive :  not  to  KILL ,  but  to  perpetuate .   byakuya's  existence  awards  her  this .   and  she's  thankful ,  begrudgingly ,  for  komaru  naegi .   for  what ?   touko  isn't  sure  yet .   but  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  the  muted  whirring  of  her  mind  as  she  endeavors  to  amass  the  most  sensical  form  and  reason  of  their  narrative .

komaru  naegi :  so  bafflingly  simple - minded , so  ordinary  of  disposition .   little  in  the  way  of  courage ,  or  conviction :  a  bland  and  mediocre  excuse  for  a  woman ,  who  perplexes  touko  to  no  end .   mystifying ,  isn't  it ?   how  someone  so  ordinary  could  defy  express  definition .   perhaps ,   ( and  to  her  credit , )   it  could  be  because  touko  has  never  penned  such  a  baseless  protagonist  that  she  struggles  to  append  an  appropriate  adjective  to  komaru .   her  fingers  itch ;  she's  not  written ,  properly ,  in  months .   she  must  be  losing  her  touch .

touches  that  linger  long  after  the  initial  bristle  of  skin  against  skin .   casual  touches  that  are ,  at  the  time ,  overlooked  in  favor  of  surviving ,  but  later  tear  the  flesh  from  touko's  palms  as  she  considers  them .   komaru's  hands  are  rough ,  marred  by  tribulation ;  but  they  are  always  outstretched ,  always  wanting ,  always  seizing  touko's  own  at  the  penultimate  second  of  an  opportune  moment .   komaru  had  reached  for  her  amid  the  deluges  of  gunfire ,  the  onslaught  of  despair - crazed  assailants ,  and  it  had  only  meant  something  hours  later .

touko  attributes  this  to  the  absence  of  her  master ;  of  the  thunder  between  her  lungs .   she  feels  this  absence  of  companionship  so  profoundly  that  she  wonders  how  despondent  she  must  truly  have  been  for  all  her  years  prior .   and  this  makes  no  sense :   because  komaru  is  RIGHT  HERE ,  beside  her .   behind  her .  always  within  arms  reach  —  she  is  everywhere .   and ,  in  the  wake  of  everything ,   as  touko  cards  her  fingers  through  komaru's  hair ,  and  komaru  drives  her  face  into  touko's  shoulder ,  touko  is  still  at  a  loss  for  words .

the  one  she  learns ,  and  settles  quite  neatly  into ,  is  ' together . '   she  and  komaru  are  two  tandem  pieces ;  they  are  no  longer  mutually  exclusive  after  all  of  a  day .   touko ,  who  has  never  really  been  included  in  anything ,  finds  immeasurable  solace  in  this  term .   ' we '  are  going  to  hold  the  sky  in  place ;  ' we '  are  finding  hope  at  the  fraying  edges  of  this  fitful  world .   together ,  they  are  unstoppable .   together ,  they  are  impenetrable .   ' together '  is  not  a  word  that  either  of  them  are  used  to ,  but  it  becomes  touko's  favorite .

because  she  realizes  amidst  the  chaos ,  quite  by  accident ,  that  she  does  not  want  to  lose  komaru  naegi .   ever .   touko  cannot  lose  this :  the  tentative  affirmations  passed  between  them  like  clean  air .   the  prevailing  truth  in  a  sea  of  lies  that  has  driven  touko  from  one  madness  into  another .   ( a  RINGING  in  her  ears :  even  in  the  static  of  her  fugue  state ,  she  remembers  komaru's  hand  latch  securely  onto  genocider's  arm .   the  trust  /  the  tears  /  the  TORMENT  of  it  all ... )   the  importance  of  this  moment  lingers  in  her  heart  as  she  finds  herself  again .

the  decision  to  stay  with  komaru  was  so  natural  that  it  mightn't  have  been  borne  of  conscious  effort .   touko  is  still  trying  to  find  the  words  —  the  only  thing  she  knows  —  to  lend  illumination  to  what  she  feels  for  komaru .   they're  eminent  on  her  tongue  —  until  she  loses  them  around  shadowed  corners ,  or  under  the  ruins  of  this  fallen  city .   hopeless  until  she  feels  komaru  at  her  side  /  hand  in  hand  /  back  to  back ,  and  the  inexplicable  lightness  in  touko's  chest  prevails .   for  all  her  works  &  accolades ,  how  strange  this  expression  feels  —

it  feels  unreal ,  at  times .   touko  fears  that  this  is  another  of  her  delusions ,  and  that  one  day  she'll  wake  to  the  peeling  wallpaper  of  her  room ,   ( more  her  prison  than  respite , )  and  the  woman  she  has  become  will  exist  only  on  paper .   but  komaru  is  real .   THIS  is  real .   and  when  touko  reaches  for  her  —  she  doesn't  burn .   she  doesn't  bleed .   and  komaru  doesn't  crumble  to  ash  &  waste  between  her  fingers ,  and  all  of  this  is  really ,  really  real .   fear  does  not  stop  touko  from  holding  on .   komaru  keeps  her  from  letting  go .

touko  fukawa  is  twenty  years  old  when  she  relearns  the  definition  of  love :  when  she  falls  in  love   ( not  with  people , but )  with  komaru ,  and  komaru  only .   she  falls  for  her  smile ;  its  unyielding  brightness  in  touko's  dark .   she  falls  for  her  embrace ,  which  takes  touko's  grey  world  and  propels  it  into  violent  technicolor .   she  falls  in  love  with  the  picture  of  innocence ,  and  how  it  lifts  the  burden  and  decay  from  their  shoulders .   she  falls  for  the  maddening  simplicity  of  her ;  even  for  her  absurd  taste  in  reading  material .

she  falls  for  this  new  concept  of  reality  that's  tinged  with  fiction .   it  holds  promise :  that  same  promise  that  comes  from  long  evenings  of  aching  joints  and  mottled  lighting  that  pursues  the  realization  of  the  kindest  places  within  touko's  mind .   komaru  feels  like  a  story  —  she  rarely  makes  sense ,  but  she  is  evocative  of  the  solitary  paradise  in  prose .   only  this  time ,  when  touko  folds  the  cover  of  this  story  over  its  dog - eared  pages ,  it  follows  her  past  the  afterglow  of  a  happy  ending .   komaru  is ,  quite  simply ,  her  hope .

she  falls  for  fragments :  cold  and  creeping ,  as  autumn  bows  to  winter's  whims .   it's  guided  steps  into  touko's  first  real  ' friendship , '  she  thinks ,  as  she  marvels  at  the  sun - steeped  renewal  of  each  day  with  komaru .   flowers  do  not  bloom  in  carnage ,  but  it  doesn't  stop  them  from  trying :  every  touch ,  every  word ,  every  abiding  gaze ,  become  parts  of  her .   parts  of  this  story  that  touko  will  never  surcease .   the  sum  of  komaru's  parts  is  inexplicably ,  inexorably  whole  —  and  it's  EVERYTHING .

[southsidewrites]

Thoughts on Riverdale and Marginalized Groups

So, after a lot of thought, I’ve realized what one of my biggest issues with Riverdale is, and that’s their flippant treatment of marginalized and disenfranchised groups.  I’ll preface this by saying I am a straight white woman, meaning that I will undoubtably have gaps in my understanding and experience.  I do always welcome additions/corrections from people who have lived these experiences, though, so don’t feel bad for calling me out (politely please).  I just need to put this in words though because my discomfort with this show is so much deeper than “ew, cringey plotlines”

Warning: This is going to be long (and it’ll probably still not cover even half of the issues).  Topics covered will be people of color, Native Americans, the LGBTQ community, people with mental illness, and people suffering from poverty/homelessness.  Read on for more.

People of Color

Riverdale has a lot of people of color for a network show.  No doubt about it.  However, these people of color have literally some of the least development.  It’s like they were cast to shoot a few promo pics and then forgotten as soon as they were introduced,  Most prominent examples:

Josie and the Pussycats: When I saw they were an all-black group, I was thrilled.  Then, they promptly disappeared.  This feels like such a half-hearted attempt to be diverse without any care for making them actual people.  A huge dissapointment.

The Serpents: Aside from Jughead, our main Serpents are all people of color.  And what do we get for them? No backstories, no real names in some cases, no representations of healthy families, and definitely no solid character development.  Again, a huge disappointment.

Reggie: One of the most under-developed characters on the show.  Not much to say other than he’s a stock douschey bad boy.  Again, no family and no development to speak of.

Special shout-out to the Lodges who are canonically Latino but show almost no sign of it other than an occasional “mi’ja”.

Extra special shout-outs to Chuck and Dilton who basically serve no purpose on this show other than a half second of storyline.

Basically, this show loves hiring actors of color, but when it comes to actually giving them screentime and worthwhile development, no such luck.

The Uktena

This I wanted to touch on in addition to people of color because it was extra disappointing.  The whole episode that introduced the Uktena and their history with the Serpents and the Blossoms was downright fascinating.  It was interesting, complex, and a sort of thoughtful exploration of colonialism.  Then, once they could promo it and get the box checked, it was gone, leaving us wondering if the Serpents are/aren’t the Uktena and why the heck is it being run by a white man?  Cool idea, pitiful execution.

LGBTQ

Ugh.  This one is hard to even start because I am PISSED. Riverdale has given us a few non-straight ships (Joavin, Kevin/Moose, and Choni), and they’ve all been messy af.  Let’s break it down.

Joaquin/Kevin: Initially built on a lie, but immediately a fan favorite.  Some interesting potential.  Ripped away as soon as it got good. 

Kevin/Moose: A rebound couple with a history of cheating.  Possibly the realest thing on this show, but kind of a disappointment.  Why can’t Riverdale just give Kevin a love interest that isn’t built on a foundation of lies/cheating/death?  Also, why can’t they develop Kevin as more than a stock gay best friends?  Literally, he just seems to be there for other people to vent to.

Chery/Toni: I’ve said a lot of this before, but this ship pisses me off the most because it could have been so good. Instead, we get a rushed romance that goes from literal enemies to literal girlfriends in the span of like three two-minute interactions.  Then, they get no  individual or relationship development, no valid screen time, and no anything really.  They’re just there to be there, and it seems to clear to me that they only exists to appease us.  It’s such a shallow cop-out relationship, and it makes me mad.  I would have been happy to wait for season three to get Choni if it meant I got well-developed, natural Choni instead of forced down my throat Choni.  Do better, Riverdale.

I don’t know what else to say other than I’m mad, and I want some valid LGBTQ relationships.  Give me some depth on these characters--tell me their struggles, their joys, their messy teenage emotions as they wrestle with who they are.

ALSO LET’S NOT FORGET THAT THEY MADE A WHOLE EPISODE ABOUT CONVERSATION THERAPY AND THEN DROPPED IT LIKE IT WAS NOTHING. Conversion Therapy is downright traumatizing.  Even a few days can literally destroy teens.  I am not okay with how passively they “rescued” Cheryl, and literally all she needed to do to feel better was kiss Toni.  That’s just wrong, and it downplays such a huge, traumatic problem that is still a problem today.  Basically, they just wanted Toni to play hero, and they thought that could be an “edgy” way to do it.  Not okay with it being taken so lightly.

Mental Illness/(and kind of abuse)

So, a while back, Lili made some remark in an interview about how Riverdale tackles mental illness in a complex and real way.  Lies.  Sorry if this one gets heated, but I am someone with a diagnosed mental illness, and I get heated about poor representation.

Betty has some sort of mental illness.  Not sure if it’s depression, PTSD, something else, or some combination, but it’s there.  Calling it “darkness” and having it presented as her becoming some sort of dominatrix in a wig is creepy, romanticizing, and not to mention offensive. Her darkness isn’t profound or dramatic, it’s an illness, and she needs help and support.  Taking down bad guys is not the solution--real treatment is.  

Archie was sexually groomed and abused and watched his father get shot.  No way the boy doesn’t have PTSD.  Maybe instead of making him make all these dumb, thoughtless decisions, develop that a little more so we can see him as a struggling, hurt kid and not an idiot that’s easier to manipulate than a jar of play-doh.  

Cheryl attempted suicide and then literally burned down a house after her murderous father killed himself.  And how was that handled?  Not at all.  Literally, she should be hospitalized and given real, meaningful treatment, not sent back to her crazy abusive mother, sent to conversion therapy, and then initiated into a gang.  Honestly, it’s so ridiculous that I don’t even have words.

In general, all these kids are going through some heavy stuff, and there is not a doubt in my mind that they are suffering some clinical trauma and abuse issues.  I’m not sure how/if the show should tackle this, but what they’re doing now just isn’t working.

Poverty/Homelessness/Economic Disparity

Let’s talk about the Southside for a minute.  Jughead has been bounced around in foster after being semi-homeless.  Toni is admittedly couch-surfing while semi-living with her uncle.  Fangs and Sweet Pea have zero backstory.  All of them are lower-class, go to a poor school, live in trailers or other lower-class housing options, and all of them joined a gang (which typically don’t attract people with means and money).  And how does the show introduce them? Villains.  How shallow is it that the rich side of town was initially presented as good guys and the poor side as bad guys.  Sure, that dynamic was mostly demolished in Season 2, but it definitely started that way.  Not to mention, the three main Serpents are POC while the core four are all white or white-passing.  While some of these dynamics were disrupted, the foundational assumptions are still there, and they’re a bit too heavy-handed for my taste.  

Basically, the Serpents were introduced as the “edgy” foils to the main characters, but none of them have any of the development to go with it.  The ONLY reason I care about the Serpents is the fanon development because canonically, they’re beyond shallow.  They’re barely even characters--really, they’re just kind of plot pawns that keep the action moving.  Overall, they should have been more developed.  At least give the kids some parents, some background, some internality, because I cannot get behind them as heroes or villains when all we know it that they come from the “rough” side of town.

IN CONCLUSION/ TL;DR

Riverdale needs to stop worrying about checking inclusivity boxes and develop their damn characters.  Instead of trying to cram in a little bit of everything, slow down and do a couple things well because right now, it feels phony.  Like, “yeah, he include all sorts of real-world issues and problems, and our character are totally #diverse.”  When in fact, the show is about four kids, three of which are white, all of which are straight, three of which are upper middle class/wealthy, and all of which have been through severe trauma/abuse.  Don’t tell me this show is inclusive if your definition of inclusivity is two second storylines that have no development and serve only to forward the stories of four main characters.

As I said before, I welcome feedback/additions/corrections.  I just had to get this off my chest before I punched a literal wall.

[beebuddyreviews-blog]

Title: The Wonderlands // Author: Stylinsoncity @alienproof // Rating: Mature // Word Count: 150520 // Chapter - AU Famous Louis / Single Dad Harry // Completed: 06/26/2017 

Actual Summary: "Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

Green’s Summary: Harry is a single dad to Andy, a budding rock star. Louis is the producer of her all girl band. Harry and Louis have a pretty immediate attraction to each other but Andy has made her father promise that he won’t go after Louis. A lot of pining and sexual tension ensues. 

Hi! It’s Green here with another review. I can’t believe I actually finished when I said I was going to. The Taming of The Shrew who needs that when I can read Stylinsoncity’s The Wonderlands. Guys, I’m obsessed with this fic. I’ve literally just finished it (at work!) and I cannot even think straight it was so amazing. Every chapter – every page – was so much better than the last one. THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. THE DECLARATIONS OF LOVE. I feel like I’m not even processing anything right now. My brain is just screaming: incredible, beautiful, amazing, talented. Picture me as Lady Gaga in that interview right now. Anyways, I guess I’ll stop screaming and we can get into the grit of this fic yeah? Here is my review for Stylinsoncity’s The Wonderlands.

Rest of the review under the cut <3 .

While this is the only fic by Stylinsoncity I have read she has written quite a bit for the fandom. To The Ends of The Earth, Love is Divine, and The Impossible Now seem to be very popular reads. I am completely convinced of this author’s talents and will definitely be reading more from her.

Amazing. Truly amazing. Stylinsoncity is able to capture an incredible arrange of emotions: happiness, sadness, disappointment, fear. I was feeling everything these characters were feeling – I was right in the thick of it with them. There are really good writers within the fandom but this author and this fic are just shining right now. I don’t know who betaed this fic but they did a fucking incredible job. If Stylinsoncity did it herself then I am in awe. Really. The writing here was so flawless! I don’t think I’ve seen very many people able to pull off similes as well and effortlessly as Stylinsoncity has done. The comparisons fall flat or they don’t make a lot of sense, but here in this fic she uses them to weave such incredibly vivid scenes.

Her attention to detail is impeccable. I can perfectly imagine the flat Harry lived in with the flower shop below. And I think that adds so many levels to Harry’s charm, because Harry at times is hard to root for. He’s a thirty-four year old who tends to act twenty and makes many mistakes, but still comes off as incredibly genuine and endearing. I love when authors make their characters fuck up, I really do. No one is perfect – miscommunication is unavoidable –  and it works so amazingly here. I want a character with flaws. I want someone I can relate to.

It is scary how much of myself I saw in Harry. Honestly. I don’t know if you guys know (it’s in our about us page, but who reads those) but I am a mom of an almost two year old. She is the most beautiful thing on this earth and I, much like Harry with Andy, would do absolutely anything for her.

You know that moment in the fic when Andy is born:

“Later, he had time to hold her. Just the two of them (and Cassie sleeping nearby). Her eyes were shut, but when he whispered to her -- a tentative 'Hi, Andy' -- they fluttered open. She looked right at him and his world was thrown off kilter. An explosion occurred. Cherry bomb had never been more accurate.”

It’s exactly like that. Exactly. I didn’t get to hold my daughter right off the bat – I remember thinking how much I really didn’t want to. I had been in labor for sixteen hours and I was absolutely terrified, but when I finally did get to hold her it was an emotion I can’t even describe. I literally said “wow” and then your entire world is refocused. Cherry bomb had never been more accurate. So I was just in awe of actually reading an incredibly accurate response to seeing your child for the first time.  And can we talk about Andy coming into this world on the tails of The Runaways’ Cherry Bomb, because that is fucking incredible and one of my favorite moments of this fic.

I also want to talk about the relationship between Andy and Harry. I had my issues with it at the beginning. I grew up in the same relationship with my mother. It is hard being your parent’s best friend and their child. It is hard for both the parent and the child to know when they’re friends and when the parent has to be the parent. I think there are certainly parts of Harry and Andy’s relationship that are romanticized in this fic, but this is fiction so not everything has to be realistic.

And it’s fine if your mom or dad was your best friend and the relationship was healthy – I just know that it’s hard. But I do think Stylinsoncity did something really incredible here, because you get to see the good and the bad with having a relationship like theirs. You understand the parts when Harry should have been a parent instead of being a friend. At least I saw that, especially in his interactions with Louis. There are times Harry needed to be a parent and put himself and his relationship first. When Harry finally laid it down for Andy and made it known how much he loved Louis, how their relationship had nothing to do with her and that he deserved Louis I was shocked. I reread that scene five times because FINALLY. Finally, Harry believed he deserved to be happy and he was worthy of Louis and I am still emotional thinking about it. This coming right after Andy makes a comment about him having no backbone. I was ready to bake Harry a fucking sparkly ass cake.

Also

Louis. Guys, you know I am a Harry girl through and through – that kid owns me – but I loved this Louis. I wanted him to win. I was smitten as soon as he appeared. I wanted to shake Harry a bit every time he made Louis upset, which is insane for me to be on Louis’ side rather than Harry’s. Those long speeches about how much he loved Harry were too much for my romantic heart to take, oh my god. And declarations of love can get cheesy and predictable and THESE WEREN’T??? They made so much sense, they hit you right in the fucking heart, and I am truly amazed at the talent of this author to deliver such beautiful dialogue.

Stylinsoncity really has perfected every piece of her writing, dialogue, and exposition. I love that even her characters recognize the cheesiness of some moments – like when Harry got a beach ball to the face when he was supposed to be watching Louis discreetly. I just love when characters are that aware.

Okay! And I have never never never never never read a more perfect we have feelings for each other scene than when Louis confronted Harry about where they stood. I mean! Louis wasn’t insecure in the fact that Harry felt something for him and he knew HE KNEW that Harry needed that extra push from him for them to go anywhere. Even after a year of avoiding each other, he knew Harry so well that he wouldn’t let Harry get in his own way. I was dying honestly. Because I’ve read that scene hundreds of times. The scene where there is obviously tension and unsaid words, but it never is talked about and someone leaves thinking maybe they don’t feel the same. But that didn’t happen HERE. Louis made Harry be honest and open in that moment and it was exactly what Harry needed and I was a sobbing mess. The communication was incredible and I am just high off life right now. This fic has really been just a breath of fresh air for me. I am just in awe. Like I need to just take a couple days off from everything and contemplate how this fic was even produced and how lucky I was to read it for free? And Jesus, I can barely think right now.

I also want to talk about Cassie, Andy’s mother. I had so many mixed feelings about Cassie and her relationship with Harry. I don’t know if we’re supposed to feel that way – but I think you end up falling in love with her. By the end of it, I was as head over heels for her as Harry was. I understood why Harry had such a hard time letting her go, because she was incredible. I want to praise Stylinsoncity again for creating this character and giving her so much personality and life and really making her the backbone of this incredible story. When Harry was weak, Cassie was strong and god I think I could read an entire fic on Cassie alone. Andy was also a brilliantly crafted character. Stylinsoncity managed to create two characters who were incredibly complex and alike but also different. You literally see Cassie in Andy, you see Harry in Andy, or you see how she is her own person. It is astonishing to me – the writing ability of this author. I really do plan to reread this fic and it is one that will stick with me for a very long time.

I hope this review does this fic justice, because it truly is amazing. I hope if you haven’t read it that, you give it a chance and I’m sure it’ll resonate with you as well, because there are so many well-developed characters to love. Cassie who wanted to love Harry and Andy but also stay true to herself, Harry who never got the chance to mature completely but loves Andy more than anything and would fight for her every day. Andy a young girl thrust into an impossible situation and trying to manage her family and her budding career, and Louis a man who has been waiting for that one special person for too long and when he finally found them he jumped right into the volcano. There is someone here for anyone to see himself or herself in.

“Picture a bird without wings. Or a ship without a compass.”

Also, thank you for including this bit – I smiled really big.

Blue has already read this fic, so there is no need to recommend it to her.

As always, please stop and give the author plenty of comments and kudos, as feedback is important. I hope that you have enjoyed the review. I’ve linked to the fic and the author at the top. 

 I’ll have another review up on Sunday – as my work load isn’t too terrible this week.

Thank you all for following and reblogging. We just really want to give the authors the praise they deserve and I know we don’t review many works, but the fics we do review are all really special. We want more than anything for the authors to get the recognition they deserve.

Until Sunday,

Green <3

***EDIT***

between chaos and control 

So I was going to post this review last night, but guess what happened. Stylinsoncity decided I wasn’t already having an emotional week (seriously guys I have been crying like every day since Harry walked the carpet at his first premiere) and she posted a companion piece to The Wonderlands FROM LOUIS’ POINT OF VIEW.

Of course it’s beautiful and a much needed glimpse into what Louis was feeling.

“Louis could forge a million excuses with his love.”

HE COULD FORGE A MILLION EXCUSES WITH HIS LOVE. 

Okay! I’ve just finished it at work once again. I started it last night but co-sleeping and bright cellphones do not mix. Anyways this was a brilliant companion piece. I wanted more than anything to get a scene of Andy and Louis bonding as family and I have been gifted with just that. I’m not surprised how well they got along – but I’m infinitely happy that they love each other that much. Also Luna, the little ice cream sneaker, and Peter, the amateur FIFA player are perfect additions to the family.

Thank you Stylinsoncity for giving us another glimpse into this amazing world you’ve created. You have easily made your way into being one of my favorite authors. I haven’t read any of your other fics but I will definitely be working my way through them. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us.

[aikainkauna]

I still can't reply to replies because of Tumblr's new interface, so I have to respond to this very good point by @acitymadeofsong this way.

And yes. This is a big problem, because it seems like many writing gurus and teachers and BOFQs seem to treat it as an either/or thing: either you write sparse, sober prose *or* turgid, purple prose; there's *nothing* in between. Now, I know that especially in the zine era, there were mountains of azure orbs and limpid pools around. So that led into an attitude where every bit of poetry and every metaphor resulted in a kneejerky "that's badfic!" reaction from the critic and the readers and the writers themselves. And that deprived us of a lot of really good poetry, I feel. Hell, *I* have a superbly honed sense for romance cliches myself by now--and don't get me wrong, this puritanism did, in fact, help me as a writer in a "know the rules before you start rolling up the rulebook and smoking it" kind of way--but this terror of the dread demon of purpleness has got me to a point where I have to *constantly* slap myself upside the head to remind myself that it's not only ok, but *in character* for me to put poetic thoughts and lines into my characters' heads and mouths when I'm writing Thief of Bagdad fic.

The movie itself is a really great example of beautiful, poetic language that does hold together well even now, despite there always being some whiny, cynical asshats in the audience who think they're tough by moaning about its "corniness"--and I always think that they are doing themselves--hell, even their very own humanity--a disservice. "Were you never an innocent, dreaming child?" I think. "Are you *happy* in having thrown your dreams of romantic adventure and beauty onto the pyre of postmodern nihilism?" Because of course, those people aren't--the whole point of that film was to allow people to escape (especially since WWII broke out during filming), and it's *explicit* about the value and power of the mind of an innocent child. It's the last, defiant dying cry of Romanticism before the war crushed it. Its dialogue and storytelling were unabashedly Romantic even for the time, a loud cry in favour of the fairytale without a *shred* of cynicism, thanks to which the film is so incredibly pure--and thus refreshing, a merciful respite, a balm. So it was serving that same urge that I am defending here, really; therefore, I would be committing a crime against it were I not faithful to that same spirit of hope and passion that ran through it.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the whole sparse prose mafia thing. I think that this is also heavily cultural. I keep seeing posts on here from American kids complaining about their teachers wanting to make everyone write like Hemingway. Ah, Papa Hemingway. Now, he's a particularly painful example in that you can see the guy *did* feel, and did have even crazily romantic emotions, but his work reads like a classic process of machismo crushing all that, suffocating that, and him just not having been given any tools for handling those emotions because society robs men of that. If anything, it should be analysed as a warning example of how the culture of masculinity fucks guys over.

But in other countries, it's crazily different--I knew a Spanish girl who was an aspiring academic, and even at her university, the teachers pressured everyone to write academic text in this really old-fashioned, formal, conversational style. As in, "we should be grateful for the way the ancients..." and "the old truth of X has been aptly demonstrated by the brilliant Y here..." and all these other near-Victorian turns of phrase that are nowhere near a neutral, impersonal scientific POV. And then you've got the extreme politeness and formality in highly-educated Indian correspondence, and conversely txt spk being universal among even grown-up Middle Eastern and South Asian folks on the internet (I always wonder if this is because of having to switch between different writing systems, some of which skip many vowels), etc. So the cultural expectations of what's good language use is hugely varied.

But, yeah, poesy is being weeded out more and more as somehow embarrassing and naive (and always with that unconscious feel of its emotion being "feminine"=weaker, lesser, thus less strong and valuable--even the word "sentimental" is an insult when it just fucking means "something with feeling!"), all over the world. Yet, just like love and passion and intense emotion and awe at the grandness of grand things (the definition of Romanticism, obvs) cannot be killed because it's such an inherent part of human nature, poetry has found ways to survive through song lyrics--and a lot of bad writing that doesn't know what bad writing and cliches are. People still go for it, just like they still do ritual and devotional and spiritual things in a seemingly secularised Western world, because that kind of thing is how the human psyche works. (And there's a gender divide there as well, sadly--why is it that the rantiest, angriest atheists and puritan fundamentalists are angry men aiming to strip weaknesses and frills from human behaviour in favour of bleak brutality, and then it's either ditzy hippie chicks who are into all the fluffy superstitious New Age stuff or superintelligent academic women setting out to construct feminist witchcraft? Oh, wait, candles and incense and yoga and being kind to yourself and others are *girly.* Reason and strict rules and punishments are upright and manly!) Why are humans like this and can't just seek a balance from the best bits of both reason and compassion... *sigh*

So, yeah, that crazy polarisation is just lame, in everything ever, because... variety and diversity, please. I digressed hugely again, but one has to point this out because people really don't seem to see how stupidly b/w--and gendered--it all is. We've been lured into this idea that just because in society, the default for "human" is male/masculine and therefore, pursuing that leads to equality somehow, whereas it's just rubbish--and not just because of the poisons of modern ideas of masculinity, but because just like all gender bullshit, ideas of what's manly have varied like crazy from place to place and from era to era. Looking at history, you've got beautiful and emotionally complex poetry and Romanticism from guys, but now we're all supposed to just suffocate that and be bland and dead. To serve what purpose (if we're not aiming to become emotionless killing machines, the only reason a culture of sparseness/emotional coldness was ever developed for), I don't know. What if Bob wants to be as wild as a Dionysian devotee and compose wildly florid songs in praise of the moonlit meadows of Arcadia--where does he turn to hone his craft; who listens to him sing? What if Anne wants to be swept up in the arms of a wild romance and make her prose shine and glisten like the dew on that moonlit grass, without slipping into a limpid pool on the way? Where's the cave in which XYZ could hone hir poetry to soar like that of Inanna's dragtastic priests in fervent, orgiastic abandon?

My only answer to that would be to just... well.

Read tons of old shit.

Write tons of new shit.

And then *interact* about it, be *supportive* about it, *discuss it.*

Because, just like you said, we don't have enough of that right now.

But even then, I would just say, even to poetic writers whose work I might find bad, *keep fucking going.* Because if you are dedicated and exercise a constant, honest self-awareness about your flaws, you'll keep getting better. Even if you are writing in a vacuum, or think you're writing in a vacuum (because fuck knows it feels like it in today's "too scared to comment" culture), KEEP WRITING. You owe it to yourself and your soul, as an act of fierce honesty towards what you really are.

Besides, and most people don't seem to realise this, writing poetic language is *hard.* Even if you're not writing rhyming couplets, just constructing a sentence is more difficult if you want to evoke really specific images and emotions; the word order itself gets more difficult when you step outside the "see Spot run" style. That's why Twilight is so bad: because the sentence construction is clunky and godawful, and because the thoughts are really vague and drifty and not definite. When saying a bitch fancies a guy, saying "She also thought of other things" is horridly opaque, especially when it's not even meant to be mysterious: if you want to be mysterious, you have to signal that better. So you'd be better off saying "other thoughts also entered her mind, thoughts she was unable to understand or process; therefore she pushed them into the deepest peripheries of her mind, out of sight." Because that shows to us a hint of why these thoughts are vague and unprocessed; the *prose* can't be vague even if the heroine's experience is. That draws the reader in and helps her understand what's going on; the vague "other things" just leaves one hanging and WTFing.

But... yeah. That's the kind of thing I mean. I still stubbornly believe you can get away with anything if you just work hard enough on the suspension of disbelief part, work hard enough on the characters to make their actions seem like they were the sorts that character would commit, if pushed.

I can't remember if I actually made a post at any point talking about Romantic/poetic writing and how to make it work? Probably on LJ, or then I am thinking of fic comments? Because, really, if there *is* need for such, I could throw something like that together. But I don't really feel like I'm some kind of authority on the matter, that's the problem. For all I know, most people consider my stuff too purple, and there's no telling how objective that is--whether it's just a matter of taste, or some (however ephemeral and subjective) standard one either achieves or falls short of. So I don't want to become like one of those conceited people who get really puffed up if they've been published once, and actually write fairly mediocre fiction, and then suddenly start behaving like they're gurus.

(Plus, I've had so much shit for creative word choices in DW and B7 fic that I fear it'd just look like I was defending overt poetry where it doesn't work. I'm *fully* aware these days of how fandom-specific it is, and that's why I've burrowed myself firmly into ToB, so I will never have to come out into sparse-prose writing ever again. I still remember groaning at a fic that randomly described Romana's inner labia as "petals," whereas with Jaffar looking at Yassamin's bits? For a guy who describes her eyes as "Babylonian," "Petals" is par for the course and wouldn't even stand out.)

Anyway. I just hope these rants and discussions will shake up and/or encourage at least some people who have had their poetry suffocated. I will go and have a look at my notes and old LJ posts to see if I have, indeed, written anything that'd come close to the sort of poetry-encouraging writing guide you describe. Because I do feel like I *have* written about getting away with it at some point. I'm sure it all boils down to a) "learn the rules and *then* bend them," b) "avoid the most *obvious* cliches," c) "describe the poetic stuff in a new, original way or aim for a perfect pastiche," and d) "choose a poetic world and stay there," but I'll have a look anyway!

Also, JFC, this became long! But it really is a matter worth talking about. I want a whole fucking literary salon dedicated to getting Romantic/poetic writing right, and celebrating the style without shame. Who's with me?

[ecotone99]

[RF] Soulmate Therapy

���But why did you love him?”

I thought for a moment about how to answer a question that was so complex yet so simple. My palms became sweaty and I began picking at the skin alongside my fingernails.

“I just did. From the moment that we met, I instantly knew who he was. He was my bestfriend and the love of my life, all in one.” Doctor Fordham did not like that answer. His eyeline rested above my head, and although he was blind, it felt as though he was looking through me.

“Amelia, that is not a complete answer. You’re smarter than that. What specifically did you like about him?”

I tried to remember. The thought of him, of his face, his body, his laugh, it filled me with grief. Despite this, I decided to think of him. The reasons why I loved him.

It was the spring before graduation. I sat on the balcony of my apartment and used watercolors to paint the scenery in front of me. My college rested in a beautiful town. The student apartments were built alongside a cliff that overlooked the ocean which extended for miles. Each front yard had a range of green grass that never seemed to brown. Palm trees were meticulously placed so that each house had at least one. It felt as though I lived on a private island, a paradise. I continued painting before hearing a voice down below.

“Hey. I’m Grant. What are you doing up there?” I looked down to see a tall man with blond hair staring up at me.

“Oh. Hi. I’m Amelia. I’m just painting. It’s a beautiful day.”

He scratched his head out of nervousness. “It is. Well I live a few blocks down and I’ve seen you riding your bike by my house a few times. Anyways, I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee sometime?”

It was the first time I had been asked out on a proper date. I never found myself particularly attracted to blondes but I found the offer endearing.

“Sure.”

I made my way down the apartment steps so that I could properly greet him. He was large with the body of an athlete. The top of his head was about a foot taller than mine. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue that stared directly into my heart. My cheeks began to blush.

“Here’s my number. I’m busy this week but I’d love to get coffee with you sometime this weekend.”

Grant was attractive but in a specific sense. He had blonde hair and blue eyes that resembled a majority of the men in my town. However, the way that he spoke seemed to melt my heart instantly. His voice held a pitch of confidence and charisma all in one.

“Okay great. I will call you this weekend.”

I stared at the clock in the corner of the room, anticipating when this session would be over. Dr. Fordham’s gaze was still set above my forehead and his intense stare rested on the wall behind me. I have always had the inclination to withhold my tears. My mother raised me to believe that crying is a sign of weakness while silence indicates strength. However, Dr. Fordham could not see the tears falling past my cheeks, and so, I allowed myself to cry silently for a moment. Unaware of my emotional state, he decided to continue with the session.

“So when you first met him, you felt as though you already knew him?”

His voice wreaked of judgement. Dr. Fordham had always been a critical thinker and valued intelligence above emotion. I appreciated this aspect about himself, yet, at the same time, we lacked a certain common ground. I romanticized the idea of love and even possessed this notion that my soulmate existed somewhere within the world. Our differences impeded upon my ability to openly share my experiences with love, but I continued on.

“Yes. I felt like he was the one. The one that I had been looking for. Like a soulmate.” Fordham looked puzzled by my comment. He thought for a moment about what he should say next.

“Have you ever considered that Grant is not your soulmate. I don’t think you were ever in love with him. I think he managed to trigger your schema. You’re confusing this for love.”

Schema. Another concept that I have mulled over time and time again. Relationship schemas are quite complex, but Fordham explains it as: my childhood was insufficient, therefore, I seek out partners who are also insufficient.

“I hear what you’re saying doc, but I loved him. Regardless of my schema issues.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t be consciously aware of your schema. This leads you to believe that you love him regardless of the way he treats you. What are some things you did not like about him?”

This was immensely easier for me to talk about. Focusing on his negative traits helped me cope with the pain of losing him. Oftentimes, I would make a note of his negative characteristics so that I could forget what it was like to love him. “Well, for starters, he was terrible at communicating. He never called me and when he did, it seemed like he was doing it because he had to. After three months, he stopped putting in any effort. We never went on dates, he never brought me flowers, and soon it felt like we weren’t even a couple anymore. Oh, and when we fought he would immediately escalate the situation and begin yelling. He said anything he could to put me down and almost never apologized for it.”

I could go on but I thought I would spare Dr. Fordham from an emotional rant. His philosophical mind was built for psychoanalyzing complex individuals with severe mental impairments. Yet, here he was, counseling a young girl for a breakup.

“Well it seems to me like he wasn’t a very good boyfriend. He never provided you with the love that you wanted. He left you empty handed and yet you dwell on this breakup. You even go so far as to say he is your soulmate.”

I realized what he was getting at. The skin around my fingernails began to bleed. “Despite the hurt he caused you, you want to grovel after him. What does that say about you?” My heart began beating noticeably faster. An image of my mother came to mind. It was a specific incident that occured after my father left. He too left her empty handed and it filled her with rage. She managed to control her anger by extinguishing it on a young girl: my former self.

“Amelia, talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Then please answer the question.”

“It says that I am insecure. That I feel unlovable because my father left me and my mother hates me. As a result, I put men on a pedestal. And when they leave me, I feel abandoned or become anxious. Instead of realizing my worth, I cling on to them even more.”

My head was tilted downward in shame. I attended these sessions in hopes that I could be saved or cured; yet I always left with the notion that I was unfixable. More tears began to drift down my face. I used the sleeves of my sweater to wipe my cheeks all while staying very quiet.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine.”

My nose began to drip and I could not help but to sniffle.

“Amelia, are you crying?”

The emotion of my past began to pour out of me. It felt as though I was hit by a bus or punched in the stomach. The pain, the anger, the sadness, everything that I had held onto was forcing itself out of me. I could no longer see past the tears in my eyes yet I took comfort in knowing that Dr. Fordham could not visibly see my wretched state. I continued to wipe my cheeks; my sleeves grew black from the mascara that had crumbled across my face. I gathered my feet into my chest and made myself small.

“Yes, Dr. Fordham I am crying. Can we talk about something else? Please.”

“Okay but you never answered my initial question.”

Although an intelligent man, Dr. Fordham could never understand how to properly comfort another person. I grew frustrated at his lack of emotional support.

“What? What is the damn question I need to answer. I have answered everything.”

His training allowed him to remain calm despite my defiance. I waited for a sarcastic response, a rude remark but I was met with a soothing voice instead.

“Why did you love him?”

This time, I truly thought. I thought about all the reasons for why I may or may not have loved him. Images of our relationship came to mind: the happiness, the thrill, the excitement, the loss, the grief, and the despair. Despite these intense emotions, I realized, it could not have been love.

My infatuation became muddled with the needs and wants of my childhood self. I lacked a father figure, a loving mother and a safe home; it bred the desire within myself to pursue love in those who could not give it to me.

When I left the session, there was a small feeling of relief. While the act of crying has never left me feeling dignified, the experience was pleasantly cathartic. From then on, I no longer thought about him. I no longer thought about a soulmate.

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