#also happy with dan's expression and the perspective!

[heliojart]

danny you've got a big storm comin'....

reaniweek day 1: post-canon!

[fryday]

the “oh, phil… you just need to believe in yourself” part during the gym talk is so personal to me, there’s been so many moments like this in gaming videos etc where phil expresses an insecurity or disbelief in his ability to do something and dan is always there to softly encourage or support him and it’s just SO… they care for each other in every way, they literally just want the best for each other as individual people, willing to stay in happy and comfortable places but also pushing each other to do and try new things, to care for another person like that… yeah

those moments of quiet encouragement from dan get me so bad because he's actually been doing this for years and years, but the WAY he does it has changed significantly over time. he's definitely said something along the lines of "phil, you need to believe in yourself" before, like i can almost hear it despite not being able to pinpoint the exact video(s) when, but there used to be that cloak of exaggeration over it, almost. an extra, "put on" layer that would make it - no less genuine but definitely less earnest, in front of the audience.

but the way he said it in the mukbang video — like, he's still an entertainer, he remembers when he's on camera, he knows how things will look and sound from the viewers' perspective — but the way the earnestness and seriousness come through so easily in his voice now, the way he lets them come through... it gets me. they're just so much less afraid of showing us how they really feel about each other these days. you can tell how seriously dan takes phil's insecurities and how attentive he is about it.

but yeah. you're right. the way they care for each other is just right, in all the ways. they know each other so well, they know what the other person needs even before that person knows it themselves. and what a gift to have that kind of partner in your life. seriously. :')))

[buskingalbatross]

what's the one sink you can't ship? (things to do when you have come home for the day, showered, eaten, and fallen into disrepair: analyze danandphilcrafts - slime (2024) and the context of its coming to be)

or, basically, because let's be real: this is where I extol the de facto vintage princes of the internet, who have cultivated and continue to cultivate a form of video-making and community-building that is utterly novel, radiant, and defiant.

*:･ﾟ✧

one of the best things the internet has ever done is given the coolest insanest introverts the chance to be loud and be loved. to have the chance to catalogue their lives in intimate (yet distant) association with other like-minded people, and to express themselves and their perspective on the world. for Dan and Phil, what it's led to, its culmination, has been the creation of an empowered queer subculture that is deeply invested in the concept of queer devotion—the complex forms it can take, its numinous inexpressible sacredness—and that is actively, through knowing and experience of that devotion's existence, in rebellion against the extractive, unkind, unfeeling, oft-oppressive society that reigns as normative.

the experience in the world of Dan and Phil, in contrast to many experiences had in the "real" world, has always been one that's felt intensely emotional, rebellious, existential, free, full of kindness, and full of laughter and love. at the heart of dnp's community, the string tying us together, is the massive mythology and plethora of lore of dan and phil's history beginning at the point where it converged because they met. as well as the idea of two people who are as close as two humans can get to each other. the beauty inherent in that.

the relationship Dan and Phil share has for many years been the axis around which their channels, their tours, and other projects have rotated. their being able to chronicle that relationship through the internet, through youtube, and for that relationship to be, in hindsight, purely, amazingly, and even unapologetically queer from the very start, is something profoundly meaningful and artistic in and of itself.

I find it intensely amusing and, frankly, compelling, that while the phandom has become self-aware of the ridiculousness inherent in yelling about two human beings having even momentary physical contact, we cannot stop ourselves from doing it. because it feels powerful and magical and terribly unshackling. touching has become symbolic. symbolic of an amalgam of the best things about what it means to follow Dan and Phil: to be free and connected and queer, openly, and to trust in each other to be there for one other in a world that is often in opposition to people like us.

Dan and Phil holding hands for their audience to see in DanAndPhilCRAFTS - Slime in front of baphomet has to do with all the things so many wonderful people have said it has to do with: acceptance and actualization of queerness, an image of queer power, allying oneself with the other to showcase alignment against cisheteronormative society, a representation of dysfunctional, obsessive, hedonistic, codependent queer love.

And it also has to do with freedom, defiance, happiness, and confidence. It has to do with making something only legible to a niche audience of people that Dan and Phil care a great deal about, because it is fun and exciting and insanely cool. It is about embracing and celebrating the magic that flows, the creativity that flows, between two incredible queer human beings.

Sometimes I think that at least a small part of the reason We're All Doomed exists is because of the way dark things stand out on a light background. The horrors seem stark, more overwhelmingly apparent, when bumped up against great love. Injustice and catastrophe are sometimes more startling and distressing when you are privileged enough to live outside of those things, when what you return home to at the end of the day is comfort, safety, and love. In a similar way, the themes of devotion and love are often heightened in horror narratives. In this sense, Slime is also one ideal medium for sharing a story that is especially impactful to the phandom, one about Dan and Phil's relationship to each other and their community and the ongoing story of their creative lives on YouTube. The themes of love and trust stand out because of the horror, and are heightened further by the intentionality of the storyline and the control Dan and Phil exert over the plot.

what's the one sink you cannot ship? a line from Phil just after Dan says, during their slime crafting, that creativity is nothing without friendship. An inverted paradox of a line. A mystery to be solved, a thread not to be untethered, a parody of itself, a hint to a history. All belonging to all of us, all part of us.

tldr: no one is doing it like them

[sunfudge]

I really do hope Sunday joins the Nameless. I think putting him on that train would help him heal from Everything

Also I wanna see him get involved in the Trailblaze Trio's shenanigans so bad

I agree! I really think he'd get along with Dan Heng, also I don't think March would give him a moment of peace either which would be so funny to watch lol I need to see her call him every single day of the week apart from Sunday

I have a lot of new thoughts about Astral Express Sunday that I want to put into a big post, but I also haven't had the time to as of yet because of work

To be brief about how I feel, I've been thinking about it a whole lot and one of the things I love most is how the members of the Express are reborn in a way which ties very well into Sunday's character.

Dan Heng doesn't want to be associated with the actions of his prior incarnation and is following a new path with the crew, March 7th doesn't know her past but is happy to travel with the express and live as she is now learning more about herself along the way, Welt comes from another world entirely and is now treading a new path in his current universe, the Trailblazer has had their memories wiped by Kafka and are discovering themselves aboard the Express, and Himeko started this all by paving the way for members of the Express to move forward via fixing the train. Sunday moving forward from his past and joining the Express really fits in with the crew, and even Dan Heng himself told him not to be shackled by the past, something he would really understand

Also the 'you have a noble soul...' ;_;

Sunday can't go back to the way things were prior to the Penacony storyline, that's over. His entire life has changed. The life he lived before is gone. He has no option but to move forward towards a new future which is exactly what he can do with the Express.

Robin has been able to travel to other planets, meet a wide array of people and form her view on the world based on those experiences. It's one reason why they have such differing viewpoints. Meanwhile, Sunday has been caged in the Dreamscape, rarely venturing into reality (as we see Robin encouraging him to please spend more time in reality in one of her letters) and the only views he was exposed to since childhood were that of Gopher Wood who had a vested interest in shoving the teachings of Order on him the moment he noticed his uncertainty, his kindness and his hatred of suffering, and pinpointed this as a weakness. This is especially evident when Sunday says, about the Dove, that he wants the bird to live 'no matter what'.

Joining the Express would give Sunday the chance to really experience reality. It fits into the idea of him being the bird that can't fly - what better way to spread his wings than with them? With how his reply to Robin saying they were meant to fly into the sky together was 'If only... I could...' him joining the crew would make me actually cry like a fucking baby lol

It would give him the chance to travel to various worlds just as Robin has, to meet different people with different perspectives on life, and then decide for himself what he believes based on his own life experiences and not on the grooming of his adoptive father. If it is a Paradise he wishes for, and he says he still wants to achieve that goal at the end of 2.3, then maybe he'll find one in travelling to help others.

I still really believe that the Death of a Crow readable is from Elio about Sunday, however knowing that Elio and the rest of the Hunters try to aid the Express, and with Firefly calling them the dark to the Astral Express's light, I wouldn't be surprised if the poem itself was about Sunday joining the Astral Express instead of the Stellaron Hunters. Elio's aim is to support the Express, so him pushing Sunday towards joining the Express would be in line with the Stellaron Hunters and what they've always done throughout the story - provided us with their help.

Sunday has had rebirth themes around him for such a long time now that him totally changing outfit and walking a new path to travel the stars when he's only ever been stuck in the Dreamscape, now being able to create a new life for himself, would be very fitting. Sunday's lightcone animation has him saying 'the end is also the beginning', along with the description for his sticker which also points towards rebirth.

ALSO the whole fallen angel rebirth thing, etcetera etcetera, right down to Jade offering him a deal that's super comparable to the forbidden fruit, but that's pretty clear, yet I thought I'd throw it in there

In my opinion, the Astral Express would welcome him. They thought he was trying to resurrect Ena at first, but they then realised he wanted to create a world without suffering. He was also willing to listen to what the Astral Express had to say, and I really think he would welcome them challenging his views. I do believe they'd welcome him with open arms, as someone who is willing to move on from his past.

Also Sunday talks about the Trailblaze like this

So there's that too

I... really want this to happen lol. And I'm so happy current leaks point very strongly towards it

[revserrayyu]

2.2 Penacony thoughts [part 4]

**Spoiler warning** as we are nearing the very end of the story. Discussing on everything that happens once we wake up after the first boss fight until right before we enter the Horizon of Existence with Acheron. Do look away if you haven’t reached that place yet.

Ma’am, what do you mean by this??

Here I am, wandering around reality all confused, and yet the game still has the audacity to make jokes!

I thought Boothill was just being silly, but if Dan Heng also forgot, then it must be serious. Then I remembered there was one occasion last patch where we also forgot about Acheron’s name when talking to Welt. Or Himeko. I don’t recall which parent it was but we were near Clockie’s statue at the time.

So I saw Ratio, Topaz and Aventurine chatting with each other from afar and thought nothing of it, only to finally realize after our beloved gambler greeted us that YES it has indeed been a while because he was SUPPOSEDLY DEAD and he CLEARLY ISN’T ANYMORE, THANK GOD! I believed he was gonna be fine, thanks to Ratio’s advice and the fact Aventurine stated he wasn’t going to join his family yet, but then hearing Topaz’s call with Jade and how the Aventurine Cornerstone lost its light made me doubt his status just a little bit, but overall I’m so happy to see our man alive and well. I just wish.. it happened differently? I was expecting this grand reunion cutscene after his death-defying performance and he just.. shows up in the hotel with a completely normal interaction.

That is a whole lotta words, honey, but good for you I guess?

Screwllum jump-scare, also accompanied by lots of words that my mind can’t focus on right now.

… Pardon me? No. Surely not. We still have a whole other patch to get through after this, Welt! Needless to say, at this point in the story, confusion was at an all time high and Penacony’s story was beginning to lose its luster for me because the “ending” didn’t feel like a true conclusion.

Despite the unsatisfying feeling, we indeed arrive back on the Express. It has been a long while since we had a good adventure with our fellow Nameless. I hope he can join us fully in the next planet. Surely he would keep us from getting in trouble.

I feel like this comment isn’t only because we’re the main character, but also because as the player, we were able to view different people’s perspectives aside from the Trailblazer’s.

Is this a date? Sounds like a date. Regardless, I accept!

I can’t believe they actually had credits rolling. It’s giving Argenti trailer flashbacks and they’re really making it seem like this is the end of Penacony. Worth noting that March and Acheron’s real names aren’t listed while Welt and Aventurine’s are.

What the fuck do you mean?? For real though, hearing this after having one of the easiest boss fights of my life is a bit reassuring because I just knew something wasn’t quite right about all this!

Black Swan then retells the whole journey to us, from start to finish while asking us to pick out the one flaw in the whole story, which just so happens to be us running into Misha in the hotel’s lobby. He’s a major flaw that contradicts all other information in the story because that moment shouldn’t have been real. As for much recent occurrences, they don’t appear to be reality either because.. we have yet to actually wake up.

Still within the dream, we experience some deja vu because isn’t this exactly what Acheron says to us the very first time we meet her in 2.0?

Well aren’t you just a splendid little cheat code. No wonder the “Dreammaster” wanted to kick you out of Penacony.

So because we able to realize that seeing Misha in reality was an illusion, we were spared from being trapped like so many other residents of Penacony. I’m honestly surprised how many twists and turns this story can keep introducing to us when we’re so close to the story’s ending, but it’s impressive.

Robin realized there was a flaw in her dream too, which just so happened to be the flashback of her and Sunday finding the injury bird. Apparently that illusion was too blissful to be true? Wild.

We then found out that this fancy little bullet is the relic that Acheron had to return to its rightful owner.

Posing as a Galaxy Ranger to get a real one’s attention so they (Boothill) can properly use the relic in the next stage of the plan is a surprising move from Acheron. Who knew she could play 3d chess.

Firefly deserves some credit too, naturally, since it’s due to her that everyone was able to find us and understand the key to breaking free of this endless dream. By following Elio’s script, one is bound to have a knack of planning ahead and carrying out perfectly timed moves.

The end of Penacony is near but the fact it might actually come at the cost of that precious girl’s life ain’t bringing me much joy!

Last part coming up next and yet there’s still so much to chat about aaahh..

[lesbicona]

why is season 6 of community your favourite /genq im just curious !! :]

the short answer is frankie

the long answer is: im very particular about endings, not in that i need them to have specific qualities (like sad or happy or epilogue-esque or what have you) but in that i need them to have narrative intent. we came close to living in a universe where basic story and basic sandwich closed community's story, and as much as i do genuinely like those episodes (mostly for comedy reasons), i only like them in the context of the full show we have now. i was not old enough to appreciate the show as it aired, but looking back i can see opinions at the time of the ending were divided. season 5 in general, honestly, seems close to season 4 in people's minds- in the post you're referencing where i expressed this opinion, season 5 received literally 0 votes. season 4 is controversial, but season 5 commits a worse sin- it's forgettable. (and i do like it, i really liked prof hickey which is truly a take on this webbed site, but this is my impression of the public opinion of it).

so in just existing, season 6 elevates my personal opinion of the show, but i mentioned public opinion in the paragraph prior because season 6 often gets lumped in with 4 and 5 as 'bad'. now while i have my own set of takes about even just season 4 (really guys, it's fine, it's just an ok season of tv in an excellent show, but it's not BAD) i will try very hard not to get into here, it is an objective divide between the widely acclaimed seasons 1 through 3 and the more controversial rest. my opinions of season 6 are very influenced by this, because it's like my little meow meow i must protect from the haters.

i feel season 6 closes up the themes of community, as evolved and changed as they are, in a satisfying way, and gives the characters themselves a logical narrative end. i especially enjoyed the themes of growing up continued from season 5, which are very pressing in a show about college. of course i realize this is a silly sitcom we're talking about, so i'm not saying that it put forward anything groundbreakingly subtle or even new, but any long-running show (especially one which could not keep the entirety of its main cast) that can wrap up so satisfyingly deserves praise.

and yet, because of the season 4 hurdle, which leaves many people with a bad taste in their mouth for the rest of the entire show, it is not as acclaimed as i think it deserves to be. i don't think people realize how much the show was probably going to change in season 4 even without dan harmon's departure. the idealized season 4 in people's minds seems to be season 3 part 2, which could not have happened for a successful season of television. seasons 1 through 3 are all already very different from each other despite being clumped together. yet people despise every single change to the show from season 4 onward indiscriminately. so of course season 6, with its many, many changes, is so far from season 3 that people blinded by the latter's glory cannot even see the former.

but most if not all of the changes season 6 brings are purely beneficial in my perspective. frankie and elroy are excellent additions to the cast; they are great comedic forces, with a strong role in relation to the others. they both play the almost-straight man jeff used to be, normal in reaction to most of the shenanigans of the original cast while bringing in their own insanity. they also represent the aging of the show. by bringing them in instead of, for example, freshmen students, the new, more grown perspective of the show is reinstated. the bits of their lives outside the committee that we get to see are interesting, funny, and bring them depth.

of course in particular im fond of frankie, who's normal to the point of pathology, whose line deliveries have a 90% chance of obliterating me on the spot, and who is just like me fr fr (a lesbian). she does not budge in her responsibilities, leading to her fluctuating role in the eyes of the cast, antagonist in some episodes and co-lead in others. her presence adds something new for each character to compare themselves to, for the better. in particular, annie, jeff and the dean are all improved because of her.

britta also receives some focus she hadn't since a few seasons past, and while i do not agree with the narrative framing of all of it (as clearly the show itself does not side with her in disliking her parents, as much as she, as a character, has proper reason to), the contents are extremely enjoyable to me. getting a chance to analyze the wannabe-therapist's relationship with her parents is perfectly ironic just as a concept.

season 6 offers some of my favorite comedy of the whole show. while my favorite line forever remains "i need help reacting to this" (which i saw you also enjoy <3), i was in tears of laughter at the end of a majority of season 6 episodes on my first watch. elroy's addiction to encouraging white people is absolutely unforgettable.

sorry for the Whole Fucking Essay! the medium answer, which you unlocked by reading the long answer, is: though perhaps not the objective best community has to offer, i love season 6 twice as fiercely to protect it from its undeserving haters. stan frankie, bring me 6 cans of olives, goodbye.

[almea]

I thought the 2.3 story would be longer than it was because of the trailer, but I think it was a good length, especially after the monster that was 2.2.

I fucking CRIED that Dan Heng's dream was just for the five of them to continue travelling on the Express together forever. Between this and his line in 2.2 about his companions being "once-in-a-lifetime treasures" he is truly the softest boy. I read a fic where I think Himeko told Dan Heng that he could travel with the Express for as long as he wanted, and he thought to himself that he wanted to stay forever, but "forever" means something different to him than it does to the others, and that line has lived in my heart ever since and these last two versions have really shown how that author really nailed the part of Dan Heng that loves the crew so much.

I love the jokes about how trigger happy Dan Heng is with the Jade Abacus in 2.2, but I do also think it's very sweet and a little sad because it feels like his desire to keep the crew safe can get very desperate and frantic. It's also feels like the only reason Dan Heng seems so cool and levelheaded all the time is because he usually has to keep March and Stelle from going too crazy, but when they're gone he's just like. No thoughts, head empty, if I get even an inkling that they're in trouble I am going to make the most reckless choices I can in the moment to protect them and it's all anyone can do to try to stop me.

It's so fucking sad???? That no one knows what exactly happened with Gallagher. Like, Siobhan doesn't know what happened to her friend. This is a crime!! I don't know if we're ever going to see him again in the future, but if we do, I will cry. I didn't really have any thoughts about Misha or Gallagher in 2.0 or 2.1, and then 2.2 happened and now I'm in tears every time either of them are mentioned in the story lmao.

Seeing Stelle be an absolute gremlin who's being babysat by March and Dan Heng from Firefly's perspective was such a treat. She's so unhinged and it was like. Ah yes. This is exactly how I act when I'm playing the game. Opening every chest I see, looking for birds, breaking every destructible item. Getting to hear more of Stelle's voice was also a blessing and a gift.

The last cutscene was soooo beautiful. I loved the shots of everyone in Penacony. It just feels like such a nice way to wrap things up.

And the Firefly and Stelle parts, oh my god. Stelle praying for Firefly's to be okay was so cute. I wasn't expecting that and they just hit me with Stelle looking so adorable. And then Firefly princess carrying Stelle?? First with Sam and then without it?? In that moment Firefly really decided she was the hero of the story and Stelle was the heroine. I just love them so much. Seeing them so happy and relieved together made me so happy too.

There is something there about Stelle first entering the dream by falling from the sky and crash landing, and then ending the story flying through the sky and going even higher with Firefly.

And then they go from that to stabbing me in the heart with the final goodbyes in Penacony. I just. I'm so fond of the Penacony Trailblazers and seeing how the crew honours them was so sweet. I love that Razalina was the one writing those messages in the Dreamscape Pass because that means she's kind of been with us since the beginning. I want to believe we'll get to learn more about her one day, maybe in a Penacony Trailblaze Continuance. I saw a theory that she's Black Swan that was pretty compelling, so Black Swan temporarily travelling with the crew has potential.

I can't believe they made Acheron's farewell skippable. I can't believe there was an option to just go back to the train without saying goodbye to her. I picked the second option first because I thought the sentiment of "If that was the first time we met, then the next time we meet will be a reunion" was very sweet, but I went back and picked the first option afterwards because I figured it was going to be an Impact 3rd reference and I wanted to see it even if I wouldn't really Get It. I wasn't expecting the scene to be so much longer and so touching, with not one but two absolutely beautiful CGs of Acheron. And they made it skippable.

All the new visitor unlocks popping up one after the other after finishing the story was so funny. Especially Sparkle because, girl, you just gave everyone a heart attack because of your bomb threat and then you invited yourself onto the train???? And then I read her text messages, cried hysterically, and was like, okay, you can come visit whenever you want.

When Sparkle created the illusions of the Stellaron Hunters in Acheron's trailer, I had the thought that maybe my dumb theory that they were the ones who hired her to come to Penacony had a chance of being true, but I assumed it was Elio who hired her because she had a part in the script, but no! It was Silver Wolf! Silver Wolf, who was just worried about her friend and wanted to take measures to keep her as safe as possible! I always believed Silver Wolf was secretly very soft for the people she loves beneath all her attitude and I was right!

Silver Wolf and Sparkle being gaming friends is so random and I love it. It's this version's "Blade has a driver's license" for me. I can't believe they dropped this lore on me without adding new voice lines for them about each other. I'm holding out hope for the future…

My mono-Quantum team is Qingque, her boss, Silver Wolf, and her gaming buddy. It's so perfect.

[tutuandscoot]

Can you talk about how Scott's dancing changed when VM moved to IAM from Canton?

LONG POST AHEAD

I sure can!!

I’ve wanted to do a post for so long about more generally how they changed during the comeback bc I think it’s so fascinating. But I’ll focus on this part of it for now.

This is just my feelings and speculation and thoughts on what they’ve said so don’t take any of this as pure fact.

Comparing environments: Canton/MTL

I can only make presumptions on the training environment in Canton based on limited footage (I take the stupid show with about 15 grains of salt) but it just feels like there was less of a safe environment to explore and create- for them at least with the intimate nature of their chemistry and storytelling, it seemed very technical and competitive (in a way that wasn’t the most conductive for creative expression in the way MTL was). A number of things may have contributed to this; them being younger and growing up in that environment from juniors to seniors- so not being the top team when they arrived, (coming to MTL, even being away from comps 2 years it was like ‘the goats’ have arrived and they got to contribute immensely to that being a really positive and creative environment pushing everyone to be their best). The coaching style in Canton (they’ve said M+I were strict.. Russians so its on par), a lot of teams were training there but also it seems other skaters as well from other disciplines, their perspective through that 10-14 quad, T’s injuries,having to prioritise her health, etc. Also with different training environments often you don’t know that there is better or something that is better suited to you out there till you leave your current school, so I’m sure for a long time they were really happy and felt they were thriving.. until they weren’t and often you realise too late.. (they have kinda talked about that in their book. From Tessa.. it’s quite confronting to hear her say that she really didn’t want to go for the 2014 games at one point because she had lost almost all faith in Marina.. desperately want more info on all of that). With Marie and Patch now it was so obvious what a safe and nurturing little circle of trust they had with them (literally their circle of trust at every comp) and when Tessa says when they came back they wanted to be with people who truly loved them.. i think that shows. They could go out and do what they loved together and the people they would see immediately before and after they knew loved them, that would give him (both of them)…. that matters a lot when you are putting your heart on the line. TS do that for each other, but knowing they had people who would loved them no matter what supporting and encouraging their vulnerability would’ve meant everything to them, Scott getting very choked up at his hometown star speech talking to Patch about how much he had done for him.. i think that tells you everything about the role model and male confidant Scott needed and forget dance but just as a person he evolved so much.

Skating style and gender roles

With the comeback them moving away from more traditional in hold skating a bit as well as more traditional ice dance styles (ballroom) there was much more space for them to explore movement both together and apart in complementary to each other. He was always fabulous in that leading man role throughout.. really all their programs, probably Pink Floyd being an obvious exemption and to an extent Carmen (but largely still that male/female dynamic with a lot of in-hold partnering) but in their comeback programs (latch/prince) it wasn’t so much reliant on the fact they were male and female, they were just two people dancing, which allowed them to really explore how they can convey a relationship that isn’t constrained by gender identity for the necessity of the story. I’m sure it was scary for him, having always grown up dancing next to Tessa and being compared to her, the thing with traditional styles is you are dancing with each other, not so much next to each other, so now really choreographically and as adults exploring that.. still always dancing WITH each other but choreographically more separate-and not always unison moments. He just seemed more relaxed, I don’t want to say he was self conscious before the comeback but there was just a slight more stiffness in him in the canton days, where as comeback it felt as though he (both of them actually) were just freely moving. On the matter. Of gender roles, i don’t know if this was something they considered/discussed/wanted to explore in especially Latch, but I love watching it that way. Latch is so obviously their story- their actual story told as so emotionally raw with incredibly painful moments as well as jubilation. None of that in the abstract way they are telling it relies on the fact they are opposite genders- it is just about two humans who need each other and have gone through everything together. Only choreographically in the sense of lifts does it become occupationally obvious it is a man and a woman. Whether they ever did explore that (not literally exploring gender fluidity but unlike FF or MR or SFTD where the relationship they where portraying was a heterosexual one, the emotions in Latch are genderless).. anyway,, thats for another post.

Becoming the dancers they always wanted to be

In Canton, specifically after 2010 they’ve said they felt they had to be the team everyone wanted them to be but now in MTL they could just be themselves, their true, pure emotions were able to come through their movement rather than trying to fit a mould, which is ironic since IAM started developing a bit of a mould and style which makes it hard for teams to differentiate themselves- but even if VM were skating now I don’t think that would happen to them, they stood out no matter what even with compulsories.

Dance training

The way they have discussed their training in MTL it seams they weren’t doing as much ballet - i can’t recall them saying they did but i’m sure they did do some occasionally, instead they were working with Sam a lot with hip hop through their pro career pre-comeback and as they returned, during 2017/18 they worked with their ballroom person (Gigi?), then I’m sure there was some contemporary in there as well.. i know we all like to keep record of everything they’ve shared (on socials) and think thats exactly all that happens but theres A LOT that they didn’t share (how could they possibly share all of it) so just because we didn’t see stuff.. they worked 6 days a week about 11 months a year they can’t share everything so the record painted on social media is not a comprehensive one. I don’t know their full training schedule obviously but all these things would be in there and be essential to them. Then of course intense gym training, Pilates etc.. if they were doing less ballet, pilaties is essentially the next best thing- it works a lot of the same muscles and is specifically a form of exercise that lengthens your body which is what makes great dancers when they are so strong but their lines are to die for (literally ALL -BOTH their lines in Moulin Rogue at the Olys). (I wouldn’t be surprised if Scott ended up doing a lot of Pilates leading up to the olys with the way his lines were perfected).

(Sorry i’ve kinda been talking abut them more generally rather than just Scott but it’s so hard when they are so intwined with each other- i see them as one).

Mental approach and comeback psychology

More than anything though their mindset they took into their comeback was the biggest thing. I know, that shouldn’t have much to do with how his dance ability/style changed.. but its incredibly important. That comeback trailer is incredible because its really them marking their return to the ID world: and under no uncertain terms will they do anything that doesn’t. 100% come from their hearts. “This time its going to be for Us”.. that is everything to me. That is such a powerful and liberating statement. They will only be dancing for themselves and each other. Once you let go of the idea that you ‘should’ do this for someone else or for some other reason that doesn’t align with your values, you dance lighter and with less tension. Thats why they thrived- because while they were dong this for each other, it wasn’t because they felt they ‘should’ be doing it. T’s injures in 2009/2010 essentially left her as having to keep fighting for Scott, she didn’t really have a choice- she didn’t give herself that choice, even though she wanted it just as much..there was a matter of having to do it despite the pain she was in. Now… one of the most powerful things about their partnership is they didn’t have to worry so much about wanting it for themselves, looking after themselves in that respect, because they are doing that whole heartedly for each other- they were protecting and nurturing each other’s dreams, so even on the hardest days.. when they may not have the power to do it for themselves, they will always do it for each other. 😭😭😭

Specific dance notes

I don’t know if he could’ve done Prince anytime before the comeback. I think he needed that freedom to shake off his exquisite ballroom/leading man/Fred Astire-esk persona he always had through all their previous competitive programs so he could really just groove and let go, while of course maintaining beautiful posture, charisma, and being the best partner in the world. Latch I would say some of his arm lines could’ve been better. I will forever be mad at him for always rolling the sleeves up on his costume because it made him look like he was wearing a boys’ ballet exam unitard with half sleeves. At the first two competitions i felt his arm lines were much better but it might have been the full length sleeves. He could’ve stretched though his hands a bit more, this was the same pre-comeback for a while he would often hold tension in his hands (go watch Valse Triste at 2007 worlds and MR olys and watch his beautiful balletic hand lines.. in between these times they sometimes got a bit unfinished) either in a tight almost fist position or sometimes too energised in a splade-finger/jazz hands position. Its very hard to see from a distance but its those small things i pick up on. This remained both throughout MR until really Nationals and then the olys his hands were STUNNING.. i don’t know what he did to fix it but omg just about any picture from the olys THAT MAN HAS THE EXTENSIONS OF A BALLERINA AND I LOVE HIM FOR THAT!! (Sometimes i thought i could see at the boards as he often did his lil bouncy squat warm up, Marie gently placing her hands on top of his and idk but i can just picture her working tirelessly with him getting to release the tension in his hands.. i like the thought of that so i’m gonna go with it). I also found he had a bit of tension in his posture through the comeback year that (almost) immediately went away by their return for the oly season. I put this down to an obvious change in his physicality- he became more broad and muscular in his back- before this he always had a more petite frame. Just that change and getting use to dancing with a different figure can take time- this may have contributed to his shaky twizzles in 16/17. It wasn’t anything bad but just between 16/17 and 17/18 it was something i noticed. His acting had always been exquisite.. really from Funny Face onwards. I will defend that program till my dying day it did wonders for both of them but especially him- where Carmen was T’s break out role Funny Face was his. From there on every heavily characterised program (Carmen, DALD, MR) he was spectacular. I love at GPF 2013 after the SD the besp uncles say ‘you could take him straight to HollyWood’ becuase he is so natural and genuine and never once distracts from Tessa. That kind of performance confidence he carried through every single program they ever did after that. Latch isn’t a program you would say is a “acting” heavy program.. but the emotion he exudes both through movement and expressively legitimately makes me cry. I can’t help myself i bring it up every time but the outside stuff he was dealing with that season.. I don’t know if he did or not but using that deep emotion in their performances.. inevitably, he is such a beautifully emotionally available person i’m sure it was there a bit, and although it was awful for him (and Tessa did such a wonderful job of looking after him), took Latch from a stunning, modern free dance to a heart achingly beautiful human experience playing out on an ice rink. That kind of connection with deep, real emotion i feel was his moment of release of any, even unconsciously self imposed constraints he had on himself as a dancer. He took that through next season to MR and… i mean he is undoubtably one of the most exquisite male performers (specifically dancers) i have ever seen.

So more and more, at this highest of high levels they reached by the end but were always at compared to the rest of the field since they won in 2010 (i will confidently argue watching worlds 2007, they have best performance and pure dance quality of any team there- doesn’t mean they should’ve won, but their burning talent was clear as day, they just had to wait for everyone else to realise it and the scoring to catch up to them), their technique they trained so hard for everyday and were never satisfied, that was brilliant, they are brilliant dancers. Specifically brilliant ice dancers- off ice is very different because their lower bodies are trained to do completely different coordination/steps on the ice. So no i would not be throwing them onstage with the Royal Ballet corps, but in their own right, in their own unique way they are incredible and the best in their SPORT. They both improved immensely through every stage of their career but for Scott especially, the sweet little darling just wanted to always do his best for his best friend and never let her down. He wanted to be the best partner he could for her. Dance was not something he trained specifically for at a young age like T had so that was his thing to work 10 times as hard at.. probably as he would say just to not look bad next to her, but in his own way became this stunning artist who had a way with expressing movement that moved you like nothing else.. i hope he knows how special he is in that respect.

[fullregalia]

i don’t know about you.

Another year, another round up that I felt obligated to write since I basically abandoned this whole thing in 2020. As we are on the cusp of ‘23--I wanted to share some of the things that made ‘22 worth living. Personally speaking, I’m saving about 90% of this year for my memoir; it was a weird one filled with a lot of firsts! Culturally speaking, Will Smith slapped Chris Rock, I finally watched Heat, and we all learned the word polycule.

Let’s get down to business, what did I read, listen to, watch, and generally consume that was noteworthy this year. 

Books

I didn’t read as much as I wanted to this year, but two noteworthy novels I finally got to were Mating by Normal Rush and Happiness, As Such by Natalia Ginzburg. Of contemporary fiction, I was happy for the return of Selin in Either/Or and bookended my year of Emily St. John Mandel with Sea of Tranquility. 

Music

Do I even need to say that my most listened to artists of 2023 were Paul Simon, Niia, John Coltrane, Prokofiev, and Steely Dan? However I did also enjoy the new Beach House, of course I listened to Benito and Steve Lacy, there’s too much Antanoff out there but The 1975 seemed to tamp down his worst impulses, and after REAISSANCE came out I stopped playing Break My Soul on repeat and now am a Virgo’s Groove bitch. 

Movies

As I noted up top, I plugged a lot of holes in my viewing history this year. Shout out to Blank Check and the Big Pic pods for keeping me in the loop. Movie content and analysis for 2022 is abundant (just see: Fran Mag’s 2022 wrap up), so all I am going to say is, “Hi, I’m Petra’s father.” Oh also: Jenny is the MVP of Banshees or Inisherin, and Eyes Wide Shut. 

Podcasts

How Long Gone... How Long Gone? How Long Gone. It turns out I’m exactly that insufferable. I didn’t buy any merch, and I didn’t see them live--but I thought about it, which is bad enough. Besides that I started listening to Celebrity Book Club and I did go to a live taping of Odd Lots. I shed a ton of crooked podcasts (and it feels great). Sorry, but I need smooth brain. 

TV

Speaking of smooth brain, White Lotus season two was the perfect mix of stupid and interesting to keep me totally absorbed. Shout out to my GOAT F. Murray Abraham and perfect Italian American Man Michael Imperioli. Both were underutilized. Industry season two was the fish t-shirt representation I needed. The Bear was exactly how I cook, so that’s cool. I finally caught up on Barry; my friend and I binged The Dropout during a bomb cyclone while we were in North Adams; and just like that... we got an SATC sequel (remember that?! It was terrible). 

Odds & Ends

By far the most notable point of the year in culture for me was Opulent Tips, Rachel Tashjin Wise’s invite-only newsletter (*flips hair*). Her perspective on style and library of references are neither snobby nor abstruse. She loves self-expression and is generous with her advice. Blackbird Spyplane finally helped me to understand WHY EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE PUTTY NOW. If you’re not getting your croissants at Brauð & Co in Reykjavik, what are you even doing there? I made a few art acquisitions (quite possibly a cheap Picasso lithograph and a limited edition poster from The Paris Review) my exposed brick looks so Brooklyn it hurts. Out for 2023? West Elm everything ... In for 2023? Taper candles, mercury glass vases, continuing to pile up the LRBs.

That was honestly just a small fraction of the year... but like every year, it’s impossible to pinpoint when the vibe shift happens. It was a weird year! I hope the one to come is filled with even more adventures (I’m going to Switzerland!), fantastic meals (did I mention I got to buy out Laser Wolf for a work event?!), and grailed acquisitions (I FINALLY got a Mimi Vang Olsen x NY Humane Society t-shirt!!!!) for all. I’ll leave with one final note for 2023, we’ll see if any of it comes true.

[zhouxinju]

𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 +02 𝘌𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.ᐟ

💭 A disclaimer that anything stated below has no correlation with the real muse I currently use and is only related to the writer.

1. Hal terplot twist yang pernah lu alamin di rp

I used to date this one girl back then. Everything seemed okay to me. We exchanged rl stuffs with each other's consent. She told me she was older than me and a foreigner. I was like, 'Okay?' until she finally confessed that she was actually just a minor and not a foreigner.. That was a bit shocking and confusing as hell because that means I dated a friggin minor. 😮‍💨

2. What's your biggest red flag?

Procrastinating. I don't know if this counts as a red flag, but it's something serious for me and something I need to fix!

3. What was the biggest lesson you learned from your last relationship

Maybe I need to be careful and set boundaries to not cross the line, even though I don’t have any intention to. In this context, the RP relationship should just stay here.

4. Kiss, marry, kick member +02

Kith @aisailee @bshangen, marry @kimgaeulm, kick @odteu

5. tag 1 member di sini yh dan bilang sesuatu (misal ⁦@odteu⁩ eh kocak)

@imnotningnig lov u, bb.

6. Spill chara dari selama main rp yang bikin nyaman dan ngerasa bahwa lo dia banget.

Xinyu 🥺

7. Ada chara yang lagi pingin lo mainin gak tapi belum kesampaian, kalau ada sebutin fc-nya

Mamamoo's Wheein.

8. Kalo misal bisa bebas milih pcr buat 3 hari, chara siapa yang kamu pengen?

It's obvious for some people who knows me well. ❗tripleS Sohyun❗

9. Ada fc yang bikin kalian trauma?

Yep. Blackpink rps.

10. How about toxic relationship

If we could use an analogy, a toxic relationship is like a painful tooth. You're afraid to take it out because it would really hurt, but if you don't do anything about it, that tooth could hurt you even more if it stays.

11. Express your feelings to someone you've kept to yourself anonymously.

I really want to move on from you.

12. Your opinion about age-gap rls (satunya fc legal, satunya fc minor)

I honestly don't really mind about that since it's only roleplay, but to avoid any unwanted issues, it's better not to.

13. Say something to someone who isn't here anymore. (lrp atau move acc)

I kinda miss you, and I hope you're doing okay with your life now.

14. random pic yang bikin kalian inget sm mantan

15. wajar ga sih benci orang di rp? terus gimana cara biar ga benci orang di rp versi kamu?

For me, hate is such a strong word. I don't think I've ever hated anyone in my life. I easily get annoyed with people, but I usually just shrug it off and go about my day. Thinking about someone I don't like could ruin my mood, so I choose not to dwell on it too much.

16. biasanya akhir kisah cintamu di rp ditinggalin atau ninggalin?

It actually depends on the situation. But thinking about it again, I'm usually the one who leaves them first.

17. Gimana kesan pesan selama di +02?

For real, I think I could write a long ass letter to express how happy I am to have met you guys. I really enjoy my time here. Please stay this FUNNY!

18. What’s your biggest green flag?

I am confident that I have a level of patience that most people probably don't. I'm also good at controlling my emotions, especially my anger.

19. Platform main RP mana yang paling berkesan?

I only do RP on Twitter/X, so the answer is obvious!

20. Chara terlama kalian apa?

Mamamoo's Moonbyul.

21. Spill chara inceran eak (chara aja gak perlu orangnya)

I actually don't mind tagging the person, but it's Sohyun.

22. Spill teh teraneh yang pernah kelen tau, alami, terlibat (viral atw egk gak masalah)

I think the recent issue involved me when I randomly tagged someone whose account was still active. I swear it wasn’t that deep, but people made it worse by engaging with the complaint tweet.

23. Spill lagu non kpop, non pop indo, dan west pop yang kalian suka.

24. Pribadi kalian gimana? (OC)

It may seem different from everyone's perspective, but if I have to describe my personality, I would say I am someone people can rely on, like a sister figure maybe.

25. tag anak +02 yang first impressionnya terlihat akan susah didekati

@jipseok ^___^

26. Spill alasan kalian masih main RP.

Real-life struggles brought me back here, honestly, to help me stay sane.

27. Spill 3 lagu yang mencerminkan suasana hati kalian saat ini.

[yanawildstar]

Duit Raya. Bukan Duit zakat. It’s not a must. It’s a gift for the little ones.

$2, $4, $5.

Tak cukup. Just because dulu 1998 and now, it is 2024.

Masa dah berubah. Value pun dah lain.

Orang marah bila si pemberi memberi Anak Anak duit sebanyak Itu sahaja.

Hmm.

Anak Anak ni tak tahu nilai duit. Diaorg cuma berasa happy bila dapat duit Raya. Tak kira berapa jumlahnya. Sebab setahun sekali macam dapat gaji, hahaha.

As parents, Kita lah yg kena didik anak tentang bersyukur. Bersyukur walaupun menerima $1 atau tak dapat pun. Sebab duit Raya bukan lah yg Wajib.

Apa makna sebalik sambutan Eid? Untuk dapat kan duit Hari Raya? Untuk beli baju baru? Untuk cantik kan rumah? Or makna sebenarnya adalah kemenangan atas melawan nafs dan terus mencuba untuk menjadi yg lebih baik?

Kita nak marah sebab orang beri Anak Kita hanya $2, $4, $5 sebab times are different now. Tapi Kita tak tanya ke whether yg memberi tu mungkin ada masalah. Mungkin dalam kesusahan tapi tetap ikhlas nak membahagiakan Kanak kanak. Tak nak menghampakan Anak Anak. Jangan selfish.

Ajar Anak Anak Kita tentang nilai sambutan Hari Raya. Tentang silahturahmi. Tentang bersyukur kerana dapat menyambut Eid dgn selesa dan kemeriahan. Tak macam kanak kanak di Syria dan Palestine. Ajar mereka tentang nilai duit. Walaupun sikit, tapi ALHAMDULLILLAH ALLAH kurnia kan rezeki buat kita dan pemberi. Ajar Anak Kita tentang menghormati si pemberi, mengucapkan terima kasih dan semoga ALLAH memberkati si pemberi. Teach them about mendoakan kebaikan orang lain, for Malaikat akan mengaminkan doa mereka dan mendoakan benda yang sama untuk mereka. Ajar Anak Anak tentang ikhsan. Tentang keikhlasan. Bukan merungut about the amount given. How little they received.

Anak Anak ni innocent. Dia orang tak tahu apa apa, melainkan kita yg mencoraknya.

Nilai duit tak sebesar nilai akhlak. Ada banyak duit tapi kalau takde akhlak, hidup sia sia sahaja.

Kalau punya akhlak yg tinggi, walaupun tak banyak duit, insya ALLAH hidup akan senantiasa diberkati.

Eid is about educating ourselves and our kids. About our jihad during Ramadhan into becoming a better individual. Teach them the Islamic values not the value of money.

As the saying goes, money is often considered the cause of many evils. However, expressing gratitude can lead to much happiness. It helps us appreciate what we already have, rather than focusing on what we lack. It allows us to move forward and avoid getting stuck in negative thoughts or situations. Gratitude also helps us gain a new perspective and see things in a more positive light.

Practice the act of attitude of gratitude. Instead of putting everything on price tags and complaining over petty little things.

Times are different but self-worth should never depreciate in value and be measured with a price. Let’s not raise self-entitled little humans.

Sikit punya hal jangan lah kecoh. $2 pun kalau pergi Value dollar shop dapat beli 3 snickers bars! ALHAMDULLILLAH.

Selamat Hari Raya Maaf Zahir Batin!

Edited. 👇

Ok ok, nak letak additional point: Kalau yg memberi, Insya ALLAH dapat pahala bersedekah. Ibadah yg besar pahalanya dan mampu mengeratkan silaturahim. Mengembirakan kanak- kanak dan orang tua, pahala Dia semacam. Jadi kita rebut peluang pahala bersedekah. Berilah, walaupun sedikit. Another important point is, pemberian duit raya is seen as amalan yang membuka pintu rezeki. Walaupun sikit, pahala Dia Insya ALLAH lebih banyak dan berganda dari yg kita beri.

Allah SWT berfirman: “Katakanlah (wahai Muhammad): Sesungguhnya Tuhanku memewahkan rezeki bagi sesiapa yang dikehendaki-Nya antara hamba-Nya dan Dia juga yang menyempitkan baginya; dan apa sahaja yang kamu dermakan maka Allah akan menggantikannya; dan Dialah jua sebaik-baik pemberi rezeki.” (Saba: 34)

[gcecology]

I recently snagged my partner's thesis and was reading his acknowledgments. They were so great, they were short, pithy, funny. They were so him. Today I pulled down my dissertation and read mine. It reminded me of myself too -- and all the wonderful people, and pups and more, who have supported me along the way. So I thought I would post it here:

I was recently asked to come up advice I would give to other graduate students in ecology. I said ‘find good collaborators and appreciate them.’ The crux of this dissertation is the quality and depth of collaboration and mentoring that has gone into it and I can only write some token of my extreme thanks here.

My advisors, Doug Bolger and Kathy Cottingham have been my most constant and admirable supporters at Dartmouth. They have endured the pain of my fumbling early years here, read the countless grants I wrote to get enough funding for my research, and remained affable and upbeat through to reading manuscripts over and over. I thank Doug especially for sharing his study system in San Diego with me and still have many vivid memories of the first day (post-cross country flight) in the field with him. He has provided me with perspective, humor and a firm grounding in conservation science. To Kathy I extend special thanks for her constant moral, logistical, statistical and realistic good-humored advice and support. She has listened to everything from my most complex stats questions to the most basic etiquette question and somehow always been happy to help. I realized only recently how much I will miss meeting up with Kathy and being able to drop into Doug’s office to chat.

My committee members Matt Ayres, Ross Virginia and John Moore have also been invaluable. Matt was especially helpful in his constant quest for hypotheses and in reading my second chapter more than anyone but me. Ross has been a constant fount of wisdom on academia and formed the base of my ability to understand soil science.

Finally, I could not have imagined a better outside committee member than John Moore. I will never forget him coming up to me during qualifying exams to correct my board work and whispering ‘you’re doing fine.’ He has been fantastic in teaching me food web modeling, soil food webs and has offered me such a depth of advice and knowledge, always with a smile and warmth.

My honorary San Diego-based committee members, David Holway and David Lipson, made the research presented here possible. They both opened up their labs to me when I was only a second-year student. Their constant moral, local logistical support and their freely-offered scientific expertise have been instrumental in all the work presented here. In particular my special thanks for their collaboration on chapter 3 (David Holway) and 4 (David Lipson, with a tour de force to make what I thought would be a ‘Note’ in to a fantastic work and who pushed the revisions through). Additionally, in San Diego, John Martin of the San Diego National Wildlife Refuge has provided habitat, but also support and important information on local management projects and needs.

In addition I cannot express my full thanks to so many other advisors, friends, collaborators and mentors. To Mary Poulson, Mark McPeek, Becky Irwin, Becky Ball and Susan Milord. To Craig Layne for his friendship, miraculously unflagging support; he has been an amazing source of ideas, advice and chocolate. To Joe Craine and Kendra McLauchlan for their friendship, advice, expertise, and dinners. To Jeb Barrett for answering and re-explaining his answers to all my most basic soil science questions, and for beer hour. To Dan Gruner, Claire de Mazancourt, Elizabeth Borer and the rest of the NCEAS Trophic Structure working group, for showing me just how fantastically fun and fast-paced collaborative science can be. To Eric Seabloom for incredible patience and long-distance support while I learned R. To John Gilbert, who seems to always enjoy science and life, and is an inspiration to me. To Erin Wilson and Dana Morin for friendship and collaboration in San Diego. To Pauline Roberts for telling me to keep a daily field log. To Megan Donahue for showing me Balboa Park and explaining how to non-dimensionalize and drop the hat. To my labmate, Tom Morrison, for critical moments of coffee and associated conversation. To David Mbora for wine, conversation and perspective. To Sarah Neeley for friendship, time in Manhattan and teaching me structural equation modeling. To my dear friend, Sharon Martinson, it is impossible for me to express all she has done for me as a friend and scientist. To my sister and best friend, Joy, who knows the answers to all my questions and has always been there for me.

In the lab I have received extensive help, especially from Paul Zietz and many undergraduates. Among these Mayda Nathan and Britt Ousterhout deserve the greatest thanks and accolades. They are gifted researchers and have been critical to this research. Will Stork, Ha Linh Vu, Ankit Rastogi, Sam Haynor have also provided great help.

On the same occasion as this advice question I started this section with, I was asked who was my greatest inspiration, and I was able to quickly answer, ‘my mother.’ My Mum, Jeanne Dearden, has forever been the most remarkable person I know. She is thoughtful, too giving, well-read, funny and joyful and she makes my every day happier. I would not be an ecologist were it not for her love of nature, for her moving her entire family to the wilds of rural New Hampshire when I was six, for the wonderful friends and siblings she has given me—Joy and Jake Wolkovich, for the home and wonderful animals—most especially my Tilly—she brought into our lives, and for her constant and demanding wish that I be nothing more than happy. Far more important than the time I spent the last six years at Dartmouth is the time I have spent with my Mum and she has my greatest appreciation for all she has given me.

[master-missysversion]

I am pretty sure the Dan outing Yaz thing is about him telling the Doctor 5 seconds after Yaz has - kinda - made it clear she isn't even completely out to herself yet, let alone anybody else.

To be the first one someone comes out to - also kinda because she had to but that conversation is sweet imo I don't have issues with it - and then immediately run to your mutual friend and pass the message along, is not the best thing to do.

He didn't mean to hurt them, of course and there was a good chance they were about to die and the Doctor is a genderfluid alien but still. He did out her and she was not happy about it (see lotsd). Even if it was good that her and the Doctor talked and that arguably wouldn't have happened otherwise.

(I am actually more or less partial to him outing her. It is the wrong thing to do, yes, and he hurt her and I wish we would have seen them talk that out, but it is also so helplessly kind. Because he is trying to do the right thing, he just doesn't. And stuff like that can happen even with supportive family/friends and it is still wrong, so I like the idea of making him mess it up. I'd just wish we would have seen that discussed in more detail afterwards.)

(It would have been so easy to go 'you like her' instead btw. Like, 'Doc, it is obvious you are into Yaz but you are sending mixed signals. (Again.) Stop playing with her.')

Yeah idk i guess so can see how you'd take that perspective but I just don't think it was the terrible act people make it out to be. It's not like Dan was actually fishing for information from Yaz with the express purpose of passing it on to the doctor, and most of the issues with timing can probably be attributed to real life timing— Eve of the Daleks wasn't even supposed to exist so I'm sure they were feeling the pressure of how quickly this storyline had to be moved along

I dont really remember yaz mentioning it in lotsd, I'd probably have to rewatch that

Ultimately I think a lot of the feelings around this maybe are just to do with personal experience, I'm at university where its very common to be queer and talk about liking girls, or about who likes who, regardless of gender. It's not as tentative or nerve-wracking as it was in high school or in my home town. I have experienced my mum telling her friends that I'm queer and nobody has reacted badly but i do know its pretty uncomfortable, so I imagine that's the kind of experience people are perceiving this situation with Yaz and Dan as being like, it's just not what I automatically compare it to yk?

[otherprojecto]

MAIN CONCEPT

ENGLISH VERSION.

The Other Project is a temporary open agency based in Indonesia with a focus on the grocery concept. For us, grocery reflects freshness, diversity, cheerfulness, and orderliness. Our vision is to be a fresh and passionate agency, full of creativity and vibrancy, as well as bringing joy and uniting people from different backgrounds.

We chose the name "The Other Project" because we wanted to bring a fresh perspective to the common grocery concept. Usually, grocery is merely seen as a place for routine buying and selling, but we aim to infuse creativity and innovation into our agency.

For some people, grocery shopping can also be a way to unwind, not just a chore. Shopping can help alleviate the fatigue from life's routines. Therefore, the main concept of our agency is to meet, gather, and relax in a different way. We will invite and accompany you to express yourselves and enjoy leisure time together with The Other Project.

The Other Project will run for 30 days with two events, one at the beginning and one at the end of the period. Our main goal is to have fun and relax together. Throughout the next 30 days, we hope to bring peace and happiness into your busy lives.

We want to share that our graphic designs are influenced by the remarkable work of two stores that have left an unforgettable mark in the creative community, namely Thence and Plafla. Their exceptional talent and innovative ideas have inspired us, and we deeply respect and admire their work, making them a constant source of inspiration for our agency.

“Don’t you know whenever you tired, you can take a rest. Don’t you know that everytime you sad, you could cry. don’t you know whenever you lose, you could find the Other Project.”

VERSI INDONESIA.

The Other Project adalah agensi terbuka sementara berbasis bahasa Indonesia dengan fokus pada konsep grocery. Grocery bagi kami mencerminkan kesegaran, keberagaman, keceriaan, dan keteraturan. Visi kami adalah menjadi agensi yang segar dan bersemangat, penuh dengan kreativitas dan warna-warni, serta menyenangkan dan menyatukan orang-orang dengan latar belakang yang berbeda.

Kami memilih nama "The Other Project" karena ingin memberikan sentuhan baru pada konsep grocery yang umum. Grocery biasanya hanya digunakan sebagai tempat jual-beli rutin, tetapi kami ingin memberikan tampilan kreatif dan inovatif dalam agensi kami.

Grocery bagi beberapa orang juga bisa menjadi cara menghilangkan kepenatan, bukan hanya tidur. Berbelanja dapat membantu mengurangi kelelahan dari rutinitas kehidupan. Oleh karena itu, konsep utama agensi kami adalah bertemu, berkumpul, dan bersantai dengan cara yang berbeda. Kami akan mengajak dan menemani kalian untuk berekspresi dan menikmati waktu santai bersama dengan The Other Project.

The Other Project akan berjalan selama 30 hari dengan dua kali event, di awal dan di akhir periode. Tujuan utama kami adalah menyenangkan dan bersantai bersama. Selama 30 hari ke depan, kami berharap bisa memberikan ketenangan dan kebahagiaan dalam kesibukan hidup kalian.

Kami ingin berbagi bahwa desain grafis kami dipengaruhi oleh karya luar biasa dari dua toko yang telah meninggalkan jejak tak terlupakan dalam komunitas kreatif, yaitu Thence dan Plafla. Bakat mereka yang luar biasa dan ide-ide inovatif telah menginspirasi kami dan kami sangat menghormati serta mengagumi karya mereka, sehingga menjadi sumber inspirasi konstan bagi agensi kami.

“Apakah kamu tau ketika kamu lelah, kamu dapat beristirahat. Apakah kamu tahu, ketika kamu merasa sedih kamu diperbolehkan menangis. Ketika kamu tau kamu mengalami kekalahan, kamu bisa mencari Other Project.”

[sistersinead]

Reflections on Reading the Zhuangzi as a Transsexual

[I realised Tumblr doesn't have character limits so I can just repost my whole essay instead of linking it]

The Zhuangzi begins with a transformation. The great fish Kun in the Northern Oblivion turns, quite suddenly, into an equally great bird named Peng, who begins flying toward the Southern Oblivion. Peng’s great size means he must fly at an astronomical height, and below him on the ground, the cicada and the fledgling dove laugh at his excess. They are quite happy hopping between trees, and think Peng ridiculous for being so huge.

Of the commentators, Guo Xiang sees in this story a radical equality between divergent perspectives, that “each [being] fits perfectly into precisely the position it occupies”. Cheng Xuanying sees a commitment to constant change and to adapting oneself to one’s newfound disposition. I myself stand somewhat more than six feet tall, and weigh somewhat more than a hundred kilograms; I fit only awkwardly into chairs and clothes, and take up more space than those around me. I am also, lately, a woman, which has the effect of emphasising my size. So as I read the story of Peng who was Kun, I wonder if he ever wished to be as small as a cicada or a dove. I wonder if he ever felt less of a bird for having once been a fish.

***

I came to Daoist philosophy through Ursula Le Guin’s rendition of the Daodejing. In the second poem of that small volume, I read:

The things of this world

exist, they are;

you can’t refuse them.

-like a moment of vertigo. I still can’t explain why this truism has the effect on me it does, but I find myself, in moments of pain or grief, reminding myself: this exists, it is, you can’t refuse it. Somehow, it helps.

***

There are innumerable Daoist texts, but three are esteemed above the rest — the Daodejing (sometimes called the Laozi after its legendary author Lao Dan), the Zhuangzi, and the Liezi. If the Daodejing is a still, clear pool, the Zhuangzi is a mess of currents. Elaborate stories of fantastical creatures vie for space with polemics against popular morality, logical paradoxes, and jokes at the expense of Confucius. Its most prominent theme is transformation, including the passage for which Zhuang Zhou is most famous in the West:

Once Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, fluttering about joyfully just as a butterfly would. He followed his whims exactly as he liked and knew nothing about Zhuang Zhou. Suddenly he awoke, and there he was, the startled Zhuang Zhou in the flesh. He did not know if Zhou had been dreaming he was a butterfly, or if a butterfly was now dreaming it was Zhou. Surely, Zhou and a butterfly count as two distinct identities! Such is what we call the transformation of one thing into another.

Like many passages in this text, it carries multiple meanings. It posits an equivalence between one entity and another, and also between dreaming and waking, suggesting that these are nothing more than a matter of perspective expressed in the indexical ‘I’; it also depicts the natural, unthinking spontaneity or ‘self-so’ that Daoism has at times held up as the highest form of life. It hints at moral particularism — the idea that no one way or mode of action or being will be appropriate at all times and in all places. And to a trans person, the casual dismissal of artificial categories and boundaries is intoxicating. Why should I accept the bounds of sex when Zhuang Zhou could not even be convinced of the validity of the boundaries of species?

***

Something I immediately found attractive in my reading around Daoism was the almost perverse indefinability of this movement. The name ‘Daoism’ is ambiguous between ‘philosophical Daoism’ — a quietist movement that emphasises emptiness and spontaneity, and de-emphasises rational thought and planning — and ‘religious Daoism’, a syncretic religion that worships Lao Dan as a god and advocates the pursuit of immortality through, among other things, alchemy. Within philosophical Daoism (sometimes called Lao-Zhuang after its most prominent thinkers), there is no doctrine or dogma that can uncontroversially be proclaimed. It is an anti-doctrine.

Even the great texts of Daoism reflect these ambiguities. The Daodejing is traditionally attributed to Lao Dan (or perhaps his name was Lao Er), about whom nothing is known — the earliest biographical account of Master Lao is internally incoherent, placing Lao in the timeline twice, two centuries apart. The most common view these days is that the Daodejing is a compilation of an unknown number of texts and authors. The Zhuangzi, meanwhile, was once a text of 52 chapters, but is now only extant as a 33-chapter book. Of those chapters, only the first seven can be attributed with confidence to Zhuang Zhou (about whom, in any case, little more is known than the mythical Lao Dan); the remaining 26 appear to be another compilation of writings by students, hangers-on, imitators and interlocutors, responding to the numinous Inner Chapters (as the first seven have become known). Both the Zhuangzi and the Daodejing were written before the category of Daoism was established — their authors would not have considered themselves Daoists. The Liezi, finally, is attributed to 5th-century BC philosopher Lie Yukou, but is now known to be a forgery compiled some eight centuries later, and one of its eight chapters expounds a hedonistic philosophy so at odds with the rest of the book it is often considered an interpolation.

***

My favourite story from the Zhuangzi is that of Carpenter Shi. The carpenter, on some journey, passes by a huge old tree. His apprentice stops to marvel, but his master disdains the tree, and lectures the apprentice on the tree’s uselessness — it’s too soft, too gnarled, to make into anything.

That night, Carpenter Shi dreams of the tree. In his dream, the tree defends itself. It tells Shi that its uselessness has been cultivated over a lifetime, and is a great benefit. If it were useful, it would have been cut down for lumber, or hemmed up in an orchard. Being useless means nobody has bothered to interfere with it, so that it has been able to grow to its full height and live to a ripe old age. The tree mocks Shi, asking him: what are you useful for?

At the core of much homophobia and transphobia is the idea that we are useless, barren, not fulfilling the duty for which humans were created by God or Evolution. This finds vicious expression in the prurient way that a certain variety of bigot likes to describe trans people’s genitals, but it tends to run as a current beneath most of the anxieties about gender transition. Zhuang Zhou’s joyful embrace of uselessness is a balm against this petty, shopkeeper’s utilitarianism. To be self-so is to be useless, immune to co-option and subordination to another’s agenda. When Daoists talk of Heaven (tian), they simply mean what is so of itself, not reduced by purpose or meaning.

***

There is, traditionally, no word for ‘Daoist’ in any Chinese language — in the sense of an ordinary or lay believer, analogous to ‘Christian’ or ‘socialist’. This could be regarded as a linguistic oddity, but I find in it a neat demonstration of the anti-doctrine of Lao-Zhuang thought. To say that one “is” a Daoist feels like a confusion, in the absence of a creed to be affirmed or a deity to dedicate oneself to. These texts talk instead about possessing the Way, in a manner that feels reminiscent of having rhythm or poise, or being able to dance. Not something known, or even a path walked, but the capacity to freely choose a direction and begin walking, leaving a new path in one’s wake.

***

Zhuangzi, too, challenges some trans orthodoxies. When he rejects fixed identity, personality and name, I think of the great public-relations effort by some trans organisations and allies to convince the world that trans people’s genders are Real in some objective, permanent, biological or metaphysical sense; that we have different brains or minds that mark us out somehow as distinct from the cis people we superficially resemble; that the doctors who assigned our genders at birth simply got it wrong, and with cis people, those doctors get it right. It’s harder to sell — and more challenging, especially for cis people, to hear — that gender assignment is an act of creative imposition, not a finding of already-existing scientific fact; that cis people’s genders are also acquired, chosen, and performed; that this is not science but storytelling.

The Consummate Person has no fixed identity, the Spirit Man has no particular merit, the Sage has no one name.

What if, instead of clinging to an identification with gender (or, for that matter, with transness), we could use the momentum of our transitions to cast ourselves away from these limits entirely? What if, as Cheng Xuanying said of Kun and Peng, “Whatever thousands of changes and ten thousands of transformations I may go through, not one of them fails to be myself”?

***

In the final story of the Inner Chapters of the Zhuangzi, we meet Swoosh of the Southern Sea, Oblivion of the Northern Sea, and Chaos of the Middle Sea. Swoosh and Oblivion want to do something nice for their friend Chaos. They realise that Chaos lacks the “seven holes” (the eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth) by which people perceive the world, and resolve to give him this gift. Each day they drill a new hole, and by the seventh day, Chaos is dead.

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter XIII: The Land of the Living

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: some kissing (I mean, there is a wedding), religious mentions

Author’s Note: I’m not sure how but I wrote this in two sittings. My hands hurt! Also, in my take on Black Butler, Tanaka plays the cello. Sue me. And one more thing, this is one of my favorite chapters I’ve written for this fic. Hang onto your hats, folks.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

MASTERLIST

. . .

APRIL 1ST, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Thank you, Nadia. This length should do just fine,” you said, turning in front of the long mirror before you to observe the dress’s hem. As you preferred, it reached the floor without dragging like a train. 

Your gown for the ceremony was light green, a delicate shade of sage matching the ceremonial decorations you would have to wear to represent the monarchy. The dress had layered tulle tied off and sewn down the front of the bodice, flaring out in ruffles down the petticoat. The bracelet sleeves ended a little above your wrists, sufficiently covering your scar. 

“You are simply breathtaking, Your Highness. I almost pity the bride,” Nadia said, referring to the traditional idea that no woman should upstage the bride on her wedding day. You made no attempt to. From your perspective, Cornelia and Lord Edward’s wedding was near meaningless. All you cared about was using the night of distraction to attempt to carry out your mission. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you disagreed, frowning at the freshly polished tiara on your vanity. Sebastian took the liberty of cleaning the Honeysuckle & Scroll tiara sent by Queen Victoria, along with the rest of Marie’s ceremonial decorations from Germany. Surprisingly, Maire’s handmaidens didn’t send those valuables with their rightful owner. Instead, they stayed safe in Germany until Victoria requested they be sent to the Phantomhive estate. 

The Queen expressed considerable worry in their accompanying letter, but her love for the Midford family was victorious over any consternation. After all, Alexis Leon Midford, the groom’s father, was her Head of the Garter, and his mother was a beloved Phantomhive. She approved of her granddaughter overseeing the festivities in her stead. If only she knew which German granddaughter that was, exactly. 

Before Nadia could argue, there was a stiff knock at your bedroom door. 

“Your Highness, my master humbly requests your assistance,” Sebastian asked tactfully in German, so Nadia wouldn’t understand the infallible Lord Phantomhive needed help. 

You rolled your eyes, answering in English. “I am in the midst of my dress fitting. How urgent is the problem at hand?”

“Quite pressing, Your Highness,” he said, as unctuous as ever. If you opened the door, you would surely see the butler’s dark eyes narrowing from how difficult you were. “It is preferable if you attend to him in the front room in your wedding number.”

“Is he not in tutoring with you at this time?” 

“He begs of you, Your Highness.”

“What could the Earl need from me in full formal dress?” You asked incredulously, stepping off the small podium Nadia brought from the shop. You gestured for Nadia to follow you as you moved to the door, swinging it open to reveal the lanky butler. He wore the same glasses he always did when he held lessons for Lord Phantomhive.

“It’s a matter of…social etiquette,” Sebastian answered carefully. 

You understood his strategic word choice when you met the Earl in the front room at the bottom of the main staircase. A frazzled Mey-Rin used the wall to help remain upright, making a dramatic show of being dizzy. Sebastian’s violin sat on one of the side tables next to Tanaka, who sat with his cello between his legs. A metronome clicked methodically. 

Mortification flashed on the Earl’s face, causing him to redden to the tips of his ears. “Sebastian, I told you not to bother Her Highness with such a meaningless waste of time,” he cringed at his words, his fists clenching and unclenching. 

“No, thank goodness, you’re here, ma’am! I never learned to dance like this! I’m just a maid!” Mey-Rin surged back to life upon your entrance. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, master; yes, I am!” She exclaimed, hastily bowing to Lord Phantomhive and you before scampering out of the main room. She took the narrow hall that led to the servants’ quarters, likely in search of her co-workers for comfort. 

“Wait, Mey-Rin!” Phantomhive protested, but she was too far to hear. 

“So…this urgent and pressing matter is Lord Phantomhive’s mediocre dancing technique?” You surmised, equal parts amused and terrified. Even when you were undergoing daily dance lessons, your skills were passable at best. Marie was the dancer. On top of that, your last class had to be nearly a decade ago.

Due to their uselessness, those particular granules of knowledge sank to the back of your mind, like phantom limbs or atrophied muscles.  

“Quite. The wedding is tomorrow, and my Lord has been too stubborn to hire a tutor,” Sebastian sent a pointed look at the Earl, who looked as if he would pull out his pistol and shoot that very moment. “I know royals receive extensive training in these areas. I was hoping you might have something to teach him.”

“My dancing is perfectly adequate!” Lord Phantomhive protested.

“Your Highness?” Sebastian prompted, and despite your best intuition, you took measured steps toward the indignant nobleman. You felt like your actions were determined for you like there was a puppeteer manipulating strings tied around your limbs.

“All right,” you surrendered, standing directly before Lord Phantomhive. You ignored the irksome discomfort of several pairs of eyes on you. “We’ll start with the Viennese Waltz. Bow and ask for my hand,” you dared the Earl to defy you. If Sebastian was forcing you to help, he would listen.

“Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive cleared his throat, “shall I have the honor of dancing this set with you?” 

“Yes, you may,” you said, lowering yourself into a shallow curtsey while he bowed. You were in perfect sync, sinking and rising together. 

Lord Phantomhive gave you a final questioning look before hesitantly taking your right hand in his and putting his left hand under your shoulder blade.

This was the hard part. You called on your lessons from Governess Lydia as a child, although you barely listened to those at the time, either. 

“Start with the box, Helena-Victoria. Step back, together, right, together, forward, together, left, together. Repeat. It’s a circle. Think of a race track,” Lydia said sternly.

Duly, you heard Sebastian calling out the rhythm along with the metronome. But for the first time, you purposely listened to Lydia. 

“We do side whisks to keep from getting lightheaded. Right foot, left foot behind the right, repeat. Fix your posture and stop staring at the floor. You are a princess; you stand up straight and never bow your head to anyone.”

The Lydia in your head was much kinder than the Lydia you knew. 

“Four natural turns, four side whisks, and repeat. You are not a fool. Think it through, and it will come naturally. What did I tell you about your posture? Can you follow simple instructions, or are you defective?”

That was a lie. No conception of Lydia was kind.

“Look at me, Lord Phantomhive,” you said, silencing your fabricated governess. You could be a better instructor. “Don’t look at the floor; you’re an Earl, and Lady Elizabeth will find it offensive. Look at me.”

Asking Lord Phantomhive to look at you was a mistake. Your stomach twisted as he complied, bringing his gaze back to meet yours.

He was uncharacteristically quiet but staring as intently as ever. It made your heart flutter, rightfully flustered from being analyzed so closely and at such proximity. You never stood this close to the Earl, save for the time you pushed his tea out of his hand to save his life. 

It was easy to forget that the Earl wasn’t an unattractive young man; his perfect complexion and prominent, angular cheekbones were the pinnacles of offense. He looked otherworldly, like a vampire or some kind of demon with his sapphire eye. His hair almost wholly covered his eye patch. 

“Your Highness?” Lord Phantomhive questioned your little stumble caused by your inattentiveness. Your staring.

No, not staring, gawking. 

“The reverse box is forward, side cross.” Lydia reminded you.

You cleared your throat, “we’re going to complete a reverse box now. That’s forward, to the side, and back.” All you wanted to do was tear your eyes away, but you couldn’t after demanding he look at you. You could do difficult things; you killed Felix Keating in a moving carriage, shot two men after they killed your best friend and assaulted you, and hid the bodies after. “Good. You’re not hopeless, Lord Phantomhive,” if you could do both those things, you could look a ruminative nobleman in the eye while dancing with him. 

“I appreciate your help,” Lord Phantomhive said, casting his pride aside. There wasn’t much he disliked more than swallowing his pride and asking for help or muttering a word of gratitude. In that way, the two of you were the same. Yet, he’s done both for you numerous times. 

And you’ve done both for him as well, numerous times. 

“I’m out of practice too, my Lord. We both needed the practice,” you admitted, laughing as you took a more dramatic step than necessary, making the ‘natural’ turn more pronounced. You pulled him along by your clasped hands, picking up your pace to match the ¾ rhythm a Viennese waltz typically started at. You were moving slower to help Phantomhive (and mostly yourself) master the steps.

You were strong, capable of accomplishing impossible tasks, but you couldn’t help your riotous smile. It hurt your cheeks. 

“This is faster than the proper rhythm! You read music. Shouldn’t you know this?” Lord Phantomhive protested, but his tone was fond. “I’m leading. You must follow my tempo.”

“Then you ought to allow me to lead!” you suggested, deaf to the music stopping. Until Sebastian spoke, drawing the dance to a stilted stop. 

“My sincerest apologies, but there is a call on the line for you, my Lord. From Scotland Yard, regarding an old case,” Sebastian said, all too eager to ruin a moment where the two of you weren’t wholeheartedly miserable. The butler didn’t have either of your best interests at heart; you were sure. “He says the matter is dire.”

Lord Phantomhive hesitated, giving you a final long look before taking his hands away. “Right. If it’s a…dire matter, I shall tend to it. Of course,” he said, smoothing his suit. “Thank you, Your Highness. Sebastian, see to lunch preparations for after this call.” 

“Of course, my Lord,” Sebastian bowed, helping Tanaka move the instruments away. 

Phantomhive swiftly dipped his head before starting up the stairs to his study.

They left you with Nadia, who grinned like a lovestruck child. “Your Highness,” she gasped once everyone was out of earshot. “That was…intense.”

“It was a dance lesson,” you dismissed, returning to your quarters to allow the seamstress to help remove your gown. “I feared he would step on me.”

“Forgive me, but that was more than a dance lesson. You and Lord Phantomhive…there’s-”

“Your primary commissioner is Lord Phantomhive’s fiancée, Nadia. Please, just do your job and give me a hand with this dress. That is an order,” you snarled without meaning to, killing the beaming smile on her face.

“Forgive me,” Nadia repeated skeptically, doing as told. 

. . . 

Sebastian prepared a beautiful lunch table, but his master never joined you, no matter how slowly you chewed. 

“My Lord sends his regrets, but this call from the Yard is much too… blindsiding for him to proceed without a proper strategy,” the butler said, refilling your cup of tea.  

“Blindsiding?” you questioned, searching Sebastian’s face for any clues. There were none. “What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid it is classified information between the Queen’s Guard Dog and Scotland Yard,” Sebastian said, “but please allow me to assist you in any other way, Your Highness.”

Frustrated, you dismissed Sebastian and didn’t see Lord Phantomhive for the rest of the day. Not by choice, the Earl simply didn’t join you for supper, dessert, or cards. 

Maybe everything was in your head.

. . .

APRIL 2ND, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Look at this sunset!” Lady Elizabeth praised the fuchsia sky, peering through the curtains in the carriage. The golden sun set, casting warm hues through the carriage, highlighting her blonde hair, catching the diamonds in your tiara, and somehow making Lord Phantomhive appear paler. “I think this is a blessed evening.”

You were in the second carriage of the wedding’s church procession, the first being Cornelia and her father and Lord and Lady Scotney, the groom's parents. Looking out the window, you saw the white carriage directly in front of yours and the pair of light gray horses pulling you.

Lord Phantomhive was handsome in his warm gray jacket and a baby pink flower tucked into his jacket pocket. It matched his tie, and his fiancée's dress, of course. The pairing stung, although your rational mind knew the color match was to honor their statuses as maid of honor and best man. Lady Elizabeth practically glowed, accented in gold jewelry. Her hair fell to her waist in waves. You caught her eyes flitting towards her betrothed every few seconds, looking for a compliment. 

He merely stared at the carriage door, the floor, and the ceiling. Anywhere that wasn’t you or his cousin, really. He was always moody, and social events weren’t his idea of fun. If you could be anywhere else, you would be. Carriages gave you enough anxiety. 

“Yes, it’s lovely,” you responded, feeling like a dress-up doll of your sister. You wore her entire cast of princess regalia, shipped from Germany: the Honeysuckle & Scroll tiara, the National Order of Merit sash with the royal insignia brooch pinned over your breast. You hoped you didn’t look as ridiculous as you felt. 

As your carriage neared, the bells tolling in the church grew louder, echoing throughout the city. Lanterns lit the church’s perimeter, lining the front staircase and aisle. Blossom petals littered over the ground, symbols of good luck and virtue. You watched Cornelia, and her father make the slow trek up the flowered staircase and through the doors to the congregation first, followed by Alexis and Frances. Then it was your turn; you walked in stride with Lady Elizabeth and Lord Phantomhive between them, climbing the stairway and walking down the aisle.

The wedding string quartet to the side of the altar played Handel’s Arrival of The Queen of Sheba, a joyous and majestic sound. The church had beautiful acoustics, making the expert playing sound even more euphonious. 

You reddened as the guests in the pews bowed as you passed them, only straightening as you moved past their aisle. Although your entrance was strategically planned for after the bride, you still felt a pang of guilt for momentarily stealing her spotlight. On either side of you, Lady Elizabeth and Lord Phantomhive split to join their respective sides of the altar; Elizabeth to Cornelia’s right and Phantomhive to Edward’s left. 

In the front row to the right, you stood in front of your chair while the rest of the wedding procession filed in, sitting once the bridesmaids took their places to Elizabeth’s side. Edward’s groomsmen, except for Lord Phantomhive, had been waiting for the bridal party’s arrival.

The quartet’s music slowly quieted as the bald priest straightened his back, addressing the audience. He cleared his throat, waiting for Richard Burton’s affirming nod before speaking. Naturally, the bride’s father had to confirm his consent to make the ceremony valid from the law’s perspective. “Dearly beloved, you have come together into the house of the church so that in the presence of the church’s minister and the community, your intention to enter into marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal,” his gravelly voice commanded the sanctuary’s attention. 

The priest began with a prayer, but you stopped listening. In fact, you doubted most of the wedding party at the altar was doing much prayer, either. Lord Phantomhive fought himself, but he was looking at you, to the light your diamonds refracted on the tall ceiling and to the inquisitive look on your face.

He needed to decide, was he looking at you, or was he not? What prompted this indecision, anyway? 

Your fingers fiddled with the second salt shaker hidden in your gown’s pocket bag.

“Lord Midford, please repeat after me,” the priest requested, reading the vows to Edward. The groom was distracted with his bride, taken by the sheer expanse of her dress and face, illuminated by soft brushes of makeup. “Lord Midford?” the priest repeated patiently.

“Right-- In the name of God, I, Edward Midford, take you, Cornelia Margaret Burton, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow,”  the groom blinked rapidly, holding back tears. It was a sweet juxtaposition to his crisp knight uniform. 

Cornelia repeated the same vows after the priest, surprisingly much less tearful than her counterpart. Instead, she smiled brilliantly, practically bouncing on the soles of her heels.

“Very well,” the priest said, leading the congregation in another prayer to bless the couple’s wedding rings. You took the opportunity to observe Lord Phantomhive again; he wasn’t looking at Elizabeth or you, pointedly so. While he was dressed beautifully to match the other groomsmen and the blush blossoms that surrounded the arch behind the couple, the solemn look on his face told you that he was mourning. There was a fake, idle smile on his lips, but the rest of his face wasn’t in it. 

What was wrong? 

You cringed as the couple exchanged rings.

“Edward, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Cornelia repeated after her groom, completing the exchange.

The priest spoke, “Now let us humbly invoke God’s blessing….”

You thought back to the day prior, the dancing. It was your only interaction with Lord Phantomhive, and it was, as always, enjoyable. He smiled, and it was more than the vacant and foolish look he offered to the congregation. 

Until Sebastian interrupted you with the call from the Yard.

“In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss!” The priest exclaimed, allowing an eager husband and wife to spring into one another’s arms and share an impassioned kiss in front of their closest family and friends. And you, a disguised interloper.

“Go in peace to glorify the Lord with your life,” the priest managed to bellow over the audience. You stood as the rest of the guests did, clapping appropriately. 

The bells tolled once more, marking the ceremony’s conclusion.

Hand-in-hand, Edward led Cornelia down the aisle, through the church’s open doors, and into the waiting carriage to prepare for the dinner and reception. The rest of the wedding party followed. 

You trailed behind Lord Phantomhive and his future bride. They were next, and they knew it. 

Your fingers wrapped around the poison in your pocket. Was there any sense in caring for someone who didn’t care for you?

. . .

The wedding party sat in the middle of the round guest tables in front of the towering wedding cake. The newlyweds sat together, their groomsmen and bridesmaids fanning on either side respectively, save for your seat next to Lady Elizabeth’s. 

The attendants served dinner while the immediate families gave their speeches. Richard was first, bringing tears to the bride’s eyes at the mention of her dead mother, Margaret Burton. She died of consumption when Cornelia was three, but Richard was sure to lift everyone’s spirits by insisting that she was proud of her daughter for taking in her legacy and becoming a nurse. For the most part, you ignored Alexis’s speech, savoring the creamy mashed potatoes on your plate.

After dinner, most guests took to the expansive dance floor, waltzing with their partners. You were the only guest left at the table, as no one dared ask a royal to dance with them. Thus, you took the opportunity to unscrew the lid of your salt shaker and pour its contents into Lord Phantomhive’s flute of champagne. With the number of toasts the couple planned, the Earl was sure to finish his champagne by the night’s conclusion. 

You silenced any guilt by watching him waltz with Elizabeth. Her hand in his, his hand under her shoulder blade. Four natural turns, four side whisks. It was the Viennese waltz that you taught him. In response to your unadulterated rage, you took a long, calming drink out of your (unpoisoned) champagne. The acrid taste stung your tongue, but it was better than simply looking on. It was a miracle you didn’t break the stem of your glass.

“Care to dance, Your Highness?” a new voice asked, startling you. “You seem lonely. Too beautiful to be alone like this,” he said, reaching for your hand. He pressed a kiss to your family ring while he sank into a formal bow. The stranger’s accent sounded like Cornelia’s father. A New Yorker.

You raised an eyebrow, reclaiming your hand as soon as the American righted himself. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Cooper Finley,” he said purposely as if he expected a German princess to know his surname’s ‘significance.’ But you knew, and it made you grin venomously, seeing that this was the avarice-ridden and the overly confident man you helped Lord Phantomhive outwit. This was the graverobber that stole bodies and sold them to medical students without familial consent. Your instincts told you to rebuff him as brutally as someone of your stature could, but you caught Elizabeth and Phantomhive again.

 She smiled, laughing as if her betrothed said something undeniably hilarious. 

“If you can keep up with a waltz,” you smarted, willing yourself to look playful. Dancing with someone like Cooper Finley was narrowly better than standing abandoned during a waltz. 

“Can I take this off your hands? I wouldn’t want you to overindulge,” Finley said, taking Lord Phantomhive’s poisoned champagne flute before you could protest. It had been close enough to look like yours, potentially a second round from a server. He finished the full flute in one go as if it were a common tavern beer. 

“Better not to be wasteful, correct?” he asked rhetorically, roving his tongue over his lips, locking eyes with you. It made sense, Finley’s shipping business was failing without Lord Phantomhive’s support, and now he was seducing a princess in an effort to become a German duke.

“Shall we?” you ignored him, offering your gloved hand to lead you to the middle of the dance floor when the previous song ended. Guests parted for you upon sight, giving you the necessary room to dance with your unexpected partner. 

Finley took your hand, and his free one sat below your shoulder blade, as custom dictated. He wasn’t a bad dancer, nor hard to look at. In fact, he carried a small resemblance to Cornelia and her father with his close-cropped brown hair and heavy-set eyebrows. If you weren’t aware of the selfishness and cruelty behind his hazel eyes and seductive grin, you might have found solace in dancing with him over the Earl. 

“What are you up to in England, Princess Marie?” Finley asked, leading you into a turn. You scoffed.

“Your Highness,” you corrected him, “and just what are you doing in England, Cooper Finley?”

He laughed as if he hadn’t expected you to correct him. “Sorry. Your Highness, Princess Marie. I’m here for business. But I managed an invitation because I’m the bride’s cousin. I’m a representative of her dead Mama’s side of the family.”

You wondered if Lord Phantomhive knew this. Regardless, Cornelia’s cousin was going to die in about a week due to lethal thallium ingestion. You doubted you would be the first to say that he deserved it. 

At least you understood where the familial resemblance came from, dead Mama’s side. 

Finley must have attributed the alarm on your face to his cavalier manner of referring to Cornelia’s deceased mother. He put a sad smile on his face, “it’s alright. She died when we were all in the crib. Not so near and dear to our hearts as Uncle Richard says.”

“Do you always speak of such unseemly things during a waltz?” you asked. 

“You’re too easy to talk to, Your Highness, Princess Marie,” Finley said, moving the hand from your back to fix your sash. His hand lingered on the royal decoration for a moment too long.  

The waltz was hardly halfway complete before Phantomhive intervened, forcing the both of you out of your natural turn. 

“Mind if I cut in?” It was the first time since he willingly looked at you in the past two days. His jaw was set. 

“Lord Phantomhive,” Cooper Finley said, any semblance of seduction melting off his face like a mask made of hot candle wax. “We were in the middle of a dance.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, Finley,” the Earl snapped, each of his words clipped. “Your Highness?”

“What about Elizabeth?” you demanded, pulling away from the New Yorker to better face Lord Phantomhive. The rest of the guests danced around you, doing a convincing job of ignoring the drama amongst them. 

“She’s dancing with Lord Scotney,” his betrothed was laughing with her father as he twirled her around on the other side of the dance floor. Edward danced with his mother, and Cornelia with her father. They were hard to find through the various pairs of dancers; Phantomhive must have watched you the moment you left the dining table. 

“You’re excused, Mr. Finley,” you said coldly, dismissing him.

“But Princess Marie-”

“That is a direct order,” you insisted, finding the line extremely effective. 

“You will regret this,” Finley surrendered, crimson with embarrassment. He pushed past Lord Phantomhive to return to his seat or, more likely, seduce a bridesmaid. 

Lord Phantomhive wasted no time taking your hand and sweeping you into a turn. His movements were jagged, distracted by his anger. 

“What did he want with you?” he demanded, his grip much more potent than it needed for a dance. 

“He looked about ready to drop down on one knee for me,” you said dryly, keeping your face aloof, refusing to look at the Earl. You were far from the Earl’s property, a piece of property he needed to protect when it was threatened and ignored when he felt like it. He scowled at your response. “He wasn’t anything more than I can handle,” you added, and it was the truth. Cooper Finley was going to die, partially by your hand.

 “What is vexing you then?” Lord Phantomhive asked gruffly as if he hadn’t been ignoring you for the past two days. “You told me yourself not to look down during a waltz.”

“You,” you gritted honestly, “you are vexing me,” you admitted. “Are we or are we not friends?”

Phantomhive hesitated, struggling to pick the words he wanted to say. He was painfully close; you could smell his bay leaf scent. The hints of soap. The chandelier made his tiny diamond earrings sparkle. They were studs, easy to miss. 

He drew closer. You wondered if he could feel your heart at such closeness; your torsos were practically pressed together. 

“Ciel, my brother needs you in the powder room,” Elizabeth’s sudden presence forced you apart as if strong electric shocks suddenly sparked between you. Her voice quivered, and her eyes were glassy, “please,” she added as an afterthought, guiding Lord Phantomhive away with a hand on his shoulder. 

They left you alone in a sea of people. You saw Edward across the way, still engaged in a smooth waltz with Francis. Far from the powder room.

Your eyes stung, and you took a difficult breath in. Even your chest felt tight, and the tiara on your head pounds heavier than it was seconds ago. Without a second thought, you pushed past the dancing guests, making a beeline for the ballroom door and exiting the building. 

You leaned on the side of the building the moment you managed to get outside. The fresh air cleared your lungs, and you stared up at the night sky, a black abyss above you, speckled with stars. 

Everything in your life was complex, your job contradicting your heart, Lord Phantomhive clashing his duty with his. His commitment to the Queen, to his fiancée. That was probably why he couldn’t look at you. By embracing how he felt, he would betray almost every aspect of his life: his family and his responsibility to the crown. Differently, than Doña imagined, you were ruining Ciel Phantomhive’s life. Only, doing so by this means was almost more damaging and cruel than plunging a knife between his ribs. 

“Elizabeth!” you exclaimed as the blonde came through the same doors you did.

She jumped, startled by your outburst. Her eyes still looked glassy, filled with unshed tears. Her face was red.

“There you are, Your Highness. I was…looking for you,” Elizabeth admitted, her smile several degrees less vibrant since the ceremony, but genuine still. She was a kinder person than you. “I apologize for interrupting your dance with Ciel, but I wanted, needed, to talk to him. And you. Alone.”

“Please, I don’t deserve an apology from you,” you admitted, mouth running dry with guilt. Elizabeth trusted you to be her betrothed’s dear friend. And instead, you…you didn’t know what you were. Any label that could be put on it undoubtedly surpassed the bounds of friendship, which was a betrayal. 

“No, it’s all right,” Elizabeth’s voice was uncharacteristically strong as she rounded her back. She took your hands into hers, grasping them tightly to make you look at her. “He loves you how I wish he could love me,” she insisted, nodding at you as if the gesture would help you understand, “but he can’t love me like that. I love him and you, so I will… do what’s best for all of us,” Elizabeth had an actual princess’s grace.  “I don’t love him. We truly are friends, Elizabeth. I swear,” the words were heavy on your tongue and obviously false. You didn’t believe yourself. 

Elizabeth chuckled, likely appreciating your attempt to spare her feelings. “He fusses over you the same way my mother protects my father. And you look at him the way my brother looks at Cornelia. I know what love looks like, Your Highness. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize.”  “Call me Marie,” you stole her betrothed; the allowance was the least you could do. You ignored the nagging part of your brain that would’ve given anything to say Y/n.

“Lizzie,” she corrected, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug, to your surprise. Your back cracked in her robust embrace, but you didn’t care. Instead, you wrapped your arms around her as well, sighing. It felt as if you were Atlas, and the gods removed the weight of the sky from your shoulders. 

You relished Lizzie’s warm embrace for a few more seconds before she released you and helped smooth out your crooked sash and pinned brooches. When satisfied, she grinned again and linked her arm around yours.

“Come now, Marie, Cornelia should be preparing to throw her bouquet. If we’re to make Ciel propose to you soon, winning this is the best way to do it!”

All of the single women huddled behind Cornelia’s short frame like bees to honey. She stood with her back to the crowd, lifting her small bouquet of pink peonies, waiting for you and Lizzie to push past the women.

“Are all my ladies ready?” Cornelia exclaimed, casting a quick gaze over her shoulder at the eager throngs of cheering guests behind her. Dozens of arms around you sprouted up impatiently, the shorter women balancing on the tips of their toes. 

After a slow count down from three, the bride tossed the petite bouquet over her head with all her strength. It sailed straight down the middle of the crowd. If you were indeed Marie, the nudging ladies around you would have trampled you by then.

“Throw it here!” Samantha, one of the members of the bridal party demanded. She didn’t say much to you, but from what you gathered, she was also a heiress from the States. In front of you, she threw her arms up in the same determined way a soldier might shoot his bayonet.

However, as Lizzie requested, you held your ground and jumped for the flowers. Typically, you found such superstitious activities ridiculous, but there was no harm in participating, especially when you won.

With an uncharacteristic cheer, you caught the bouquet and immediately hugged it in your chest in case anyone attempted to take it from you. You looked down at the peonies in disbelief, laughing as the crowd around you dispersed. No one would fight a fully decorated princess for something so trivial. 

“A fantastic, unplanned victory for Her Highness, Princess Marie-Louise of Schleswig-Holstein!” Cornelia cheered, leading the applause around you. “We’re all looking forward to the invitations to your royal wedding in Germany,” she joked, lowering into an innocent curtsy when you rolled your eyes. 

“Congratulations,” Lizzie simpered in approval, only for the expression to melt when she spotted something over your shoulder. Her eyes turned stormy. “Now you must go to him,” she ordered, pointing at Lord Phantomhive as she pushed you toward the exit. 

As if he heard her, Lord Phantomhive turned to the both of you, meeting your eyes before tearing his gaze away again. He twisted the door handle and left. 

“Go!” Lizzie repeated, nodding towards the door. You shoved your bouquet into her arms and obeyed. 

It was the sloppiest attempt at a run you ever made. You picked up your heavy petticoat to make room for your frenzied steps, your heels echoing against the floor as you moved. Who knew numerous layers of tulle were this heavy? You had to let some of your skirts fall to keep your sash from falling down your arm. 

You opened the door and let it slam behind you, rapidly scanning the gardens outside for a hint of the nobleman. How hadn’t you noticed the beautiful outside scenery during your conversation with Lizzie? There was a water fountain and surrounding shrubbery and rose bushes lining the trail to it….

You could see his lean silhouette sitting on the concrete rim surrounding the opulent water fountain. With a curse, you pulled your skirts up once more and followed the cobblestone, yelling the moment you were in earshot. 

“You, Lord Ciel Phantomhive, are the worst!” You yelled, disturbing the peaceful, secluded area. The only previous sounds were the fountain’s running water, small squirrels chittering about, and the soft breeze rustling the greenery. Now, your enraged voice and winded pants distracted from the scene’s ambiance. You let your petticoat fall back to the ground and removed your gloves to air out your sweaty palms. Your heart drummed in your chest, anticipating his response. 

“What has you vexed so? Even now, you’re refusing to look at me, and yet you interrupted my dance,” you demanded, standing before his sitting person, arms crossed. 

“I interrupted your dance because Cooper Finley is a bastard!” Lord Phantomhive argued, standing to his full height.

“And as are you!” you refuted, jabbing your finger to his chest, right below the flower tucked in his jacket’s pocket. 

“Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive spat your pretend title like a curse, like the lie it was; a far cry from his fond sarcasm. “You don’t understand, I know,” he said gravely, looking at you as if you’d committed a crime. All you did was allow your feelings to grow too deep. 

You stepped forward, forcing him straight against the water fountain’s rim. Cold droplets of water fell on you, but you ignored them. 

“Do not ‘Your Highness’ me! I know what you know, how you feel! Elizabeth told me so!” you yelled, eyes wild. Was it so terrifying that you could…like him? Were you so bad? Or was it his own feelings that terrified him?

“And I don’t care! I- we - can make it work! Don’t you understand?”

“What is there to understand, Princess?” Lord Phantomhive asked, all too calm. If anything, he looked tired and surrendered before the fight had even begun. 

It was as if a dam had broken within you, one that had been keeping all your resolve at bay, separating your undulating desire and forcing it into a mighty rush, unwithstandable. Irresistible. Omnipotent. 

You reached upwards, your bare hands cupping Lord Phantomhive’s face as you balanced on your tiptoes to kiss him. You squeezed your eyes to a close as you kissed him with the most false confidence you had ever employed. It was novice and uncoordinated, but you made up for it with sheer passion. His lips were just as soft as they looked. Your lungs burned, reminding you of the long breath you were holding, but you didn’t care. 

You wouldn’t have noticed that your tiara had slid off if it hadn’t fallen against the cobblestone with a sickening crack. The sound forced you back to the land of the living. The real world, where you kissed your target, Ciel Phantomhive. 

Breathlessly, you retreated, standing on your feet properly. You refused to look at the meaningless relic behind you, even if it had shattered into a million pieces. If Phantomhive wanted to break eye contact, he would have to. 

He panted, but his pained gaze didn’t move from yours. Instead, Ciel bent down, his slender fingers resting on either side of your neck. From where he positioned them, his fingertips could feel your drumming pulse. Ciel’s hands were cold, contrasting your warm skin, heated by chasing after him. It sent shivers down your spine. 

He kissed you long and hard and just as cluelessly. Your heart pounded. Your legs felt weak, as if they might give in at any moment. 

Ciel kissed you, and it was like nothing you had experienced before. Not even the stolen kisses you suffered years ago, the ones plucked from your lips like a defenseless flower. This kiss wasn’t stolen. It was shared, warm, and sacred. 

Your fingers tugged at his jacket, demanding Ciel remain close. He tilted his head, clumsy lips keeping a soft rhythm with yours. It was as natural as your midnight duets, his violin slotting with your harp. Only now, it was his soft lips sliding and pressing with yours. The fit was perfect, like two puzzle pieces destined to connect to form a bigger picture. 

All you wanted was to be as close to the nobleman as you could manage. You craved the expanse of soft skin; you wanted to hear the overlapping thoughts speeding through his sharp, intuitive mind. The caustic, genius mind you came to enjoy.

You didn’t care who you’d need to hurt or what you’d need to keep the brilliant warmth burning in your chest. You’d do anything to make the sweet taste of Ciel’s lips familiar. He tasted like the oolong tea they served before they cut the wedding cake. 

Besides, what was stopping you?   

Elizabeth gave you her blessing, and if you’d need to pretend to be a princess for the rest of your life, you could bear it with Ciel at your side…so long as he never found out the truth. 

You could find a way to convince him Y/n was dead or a construct the Undertaker confirmed as some kind of hoax to tease the Queen’s Guard Dog. 

Before the thought of stopping had even crossed your mind, Ciel pulled away. He cautiously removed your hands from his waist by the wrists (when they moved there, you were unsure).

“There is nothing to make work, Your Highness,” Ciel Phantomhive said grimly, releasing your wrists. His lips, stained by your pink lipstick, were pursed. He sidestepped from where you trapped him between your body and the fountain, abandoning you yet again. 

. . .

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