#and i have to figure out how to explain the delusions problem so that its believed and taken seriously

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Psychiatrist appointment tomorrow...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Netflix wants to chop down your family tree

Netflix has unveiled the details of its new anti-password-sharing policy, detailing a suite of complex gymnastics that customers will be expected to undergo if their living arrangements trigger Netflix’s automated enforcement mechanisms:

https://thestreamable.com/news/confirmed-netflix-unveils-first-details-of-new-anti-password-sharing-measures

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

Netflix says that its new policy allows members of the same “household” to share an account. This policy comes with an assumption: that there is a commonly understood, universal meaning of “household,” and that software can determine who is and is not a member of your household.

This is a very old corporate delusion in the world of technology. In the early 2000s, I spent years trying to bring some balance to an effort at DVB, whose digital television standards are used in most of the world (but not the USA) when they rolled out CPCM, a DRM system that was supposed to limit video-sharing to a single household.

Their term of art for this was the “authorized domain”: a software-defined family unit whose borders were privately negotiated by corporate executives from media companies, broadcasters, tech and consumer electronics companies in closed-door sessions all around the world, with no public minutes or proceedings.

https://onezero.medium.com/the-internet-heist-part-iii-8561f6d5a4dc

These guys (they were nearly all guys) were proud of how much “flexibility” they’d built into their definition of “household.” For example, if you owned a houseboat, or a luxury car with seatback displays, or a summer villa in another country, the Authorized Domain would be able to figure out how to get the video onto all those screens.

But what about other kinds of families? I suggested that one of our test cases should be a family based in Manila: where the dad travels to remote provinces to do agricultural labor; the daughter is a nanny in California; and the son is doing construction work in the UAE. This suggestion was roundly rejected as an “edge case.”

Of course, this isn’t an edge case. There are orders of magnitude more people whose family looks like this than there are people whose family owns a villa in another country. Owning a houseboat or a luxury car makes you an outlier. Having an itinerant agricultural breadwinner in your family does not.

But everyone who is in the room when a cartel draws up a standard definition of what constitutes a household is almost certainly drawn from a pool that is more likely to have a summer villa than a child doing domestic work or construction labor half a world away. These weirdos, so dissimilar from the global majority, get to define the boxes that computers will shove the rest of the world into. If your family doesn’t look like their family, that’s tough: “Computer says no.”

One day at a CPCM meeting, we got to talking about the problem of “content laundering” and how the way to prevent it would be to put limits on how often someone could leave a household and join another one. No one, they argued, would ever have to change households every week.

I put my hand up and said, “What about a child whose divorced parents share custody of her? She’s absolutely going to change households every week.” They thought about it for a moment, then the rep from a giant IT company that had recently been convicted of criminal antitrust violations said, “Oh, we can solve that: we’ll give her a toll-free number to call when she gets locked out of her account.”

That was the solution they went with. If you are a child coping with the dissolution of your parents’ marriage, you will have the obligation to call up a media company every month — or more often — and explain that Mummy and Daddy don’t love each other any more, but can I please have my TV back?

I never forgot that day. I even wrote a science fiction story about it called (what else?) “Authorized Domain”:

https://craphound.com/news/2011/10/31/authorised-domain/

I think everyone understood that this was an absurd “solution,” but they had already decided that they were going to complete the seemingly straightforward business of defining a category like “household” using software, and once that train left the station, nothing was going to stop it.

This is a recurring form of techno-hubris: the idea that baseline concepts like “family” have crisp definitions and that any exceptions are outliers that would never swallow the rule. It’s such a common misstep that there’s a whole enre* called “Falsehoods Programmers Believe About ______”:

https://github.com/kdeldycke/awesome-falsehood

In that list: names, time, currency, birthdays, timezones, email addresses, national borders, nations, biometrics, gender, language, alphabets, phone numbers, addresses, systems of measurement, and, of course, families. These categories are touchstones in our everyday life, and we think we know what they mean — but then we try to define them, and the list of exceptions spirals out into a hairy, fractal infinity.

Historically, these fuzzy categorical edges didn’t matter so much, because they were usually interpreted by humans using common sense. My grandfather was born “Avrom Doctorovitch” (or at least, that’s one way to transliterate his name, which was spelled in a different alphabet, but which was also transliterating his first name from yet another alphabet). When he came to Canada as a refugee, his surname was anglicized to “Doctorow.” Other cousins are “Doctorov,” “Doctoroff,” and “Doktorovitch.”

Naturally, his first name could have been “Abraham” or “Abe,” but his first employer (a fellow Eastern European emigre) decided that was too ethnic and in sincere effort to help him fit in, he called my grandfather “Bill.” When my grandfather attained citizenship, his papers read “Abraham William Doctorow.” He went by “Abe,” “Billy,” “Bill,” “William,” “Abraham” and “Avrom.”

Practically, it didn’t matter that variations on all of these appeared on various forms of ID, contracts, and paperwork. His reparations check from the German government had a different variation from the name on the papers he used to open his bank account, but the bank still let him deposit it.

All of my relatives from his generation have more than one name. Another grandfather of mine was born “Aleksander,” and called “Sasha” by friends, but had his name changed to “Seymour” when he got to Canada. His ID was also a mismatched grab-bag of variations on that theme.

None of this mattered to him, either. Airlines would sell him tickets and border guards would stamp his passport and rental agencies would let him drive away in cars despite the minor variations on all his ID.

But after 9/11, all that changed, for everyone who had blithely trundled along with semi-matching names across their official papers and database entries. Suddenly, it was “computer says no” everywhere you turned, unless everything matched perfectly. There was a global rush for legal name-changes after 9/11 — not because people changed their names, but because people needed to perform the bureaucratic ritual necessary to have the name they’d used all along be recognized in these new, brittle, ambiguity-incinerating machines.

For important categories, ambiguity is a feature, not a bug. The fact that you can write anything on an envelope (including a direction to deliver the letter to the granny flat over the garage, not the front door) means that we don’t have to define “address” — we can leave it usefully hairy around the edges.

Once the database schema is formalized, then “address” gets defined too — the number of lines it can have, the number of characters each line can have, the kinds of characters and even words (woe betide anyone who lives in Scunthorpe).

If you have a “real” address, a “real” name, a “real” date of birth, all of this might seem distant to you. These “edge” cases — seasonal agricultural workers, refugees with randomly assigned “English” names — are very far from your experience.

That’s true — for now (but not forever). The “Shitty Technology Adoption Curve” describes the process by which abusive technologies work their way up the privilege gradient. Every bad technological idea is first rolled out on poor people, refugees, prisoners, kids, mental patients and other people who can’t push back.

Their bodies are used to sand the rough edges and sharp corners off the technology, to normalize it so that it can climb up through the social ranks, imposed on people with more and more power and influence. 20 years ago, if you ate your dinner under an always-on #CCTV, it was because you were in a supermax prison. Today, it’s because you bought a premium home surveillance system from Google, Amazon or Apple.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

The Netflix anti-sharing tools are designed for rich people. If you travel for business and stay in the kind of hotel where the TV has its own Netflix client that you can plug your username and password into, Netflix will give you a seven-day temporary code to use.

But for the most hardcore road-warriors, Netflix has thin gruel. Unless you connect to your home wifi network every 31 days and stream a show, Netflix will lock out your devices. Once blocked, you have to “contact Netflix” (laughs in Big Tech customer service).

Why is Netflix putting the screws to its customers? It’s part of the enshittification cycle, where platform companies first allocate surpluses to their customers, luring them in and using them as bait for business customers. Once they turn up, the companies reallocate surpluses to businesses, lavishing them with low commissions and lots of revenue opportunities. And once they’re locked in, the company starts to claw back the surpluses for itself.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Remember when Netflix was in the business of mailing red envelopes full of DVDs around the country? That was allocating surpluses to users. The movie companies hated this, viewed it as theft — a proposition that was at least as valid as Netflix’s complaints about password sharing, but every pirate wants to be an admiral, and when Netflix did it to the studios, that was “progress,” but when you do it to Netflix, that’s theft.

Then, once Netflix had users locked in and migrated to the web (and later, apps), it shifted surpluses to studios, paying fat licensing fees to stream their movies and connect them to a huge audience.

Finally, once the studios were locked in, Netflix started to harvest the surplus for its shareholders: raising prices, lowering streaming rates, knocking off other studios’ best performing shows with in-house clones, etc. Users’ surpluses are also on the menu: the password “sharing” that let you define a household according to your family’s own idiosyncratic contours is unilaterally abolished in a quest to punish feckless Gen Z kids for buying avocado toast instead of their own Netflix subscriptions.

Netflix was able to ignore the studios’ outraged howls when it built a business by nonconsenually distributing their products in red envelopes. But now that Netflix has come for your family, don’t even think about giving Netfix some of what it gave to the MPAA.

As a technical matter, it’s not really that hard to modify Netflix’s app so that every stream you pull seems to come from your house, no matter where you are. But doing so would require reverse-engineering Netflix’s app, and that would violate Section 1201 of the DMCA, the CFAA, and eleventy-seven other horrible laws. Netflix’s lawyers would nuke you until the rubble bounced.

When Netflix was getting started, it could freely interoperate with the DVDs that the studios had put on the market. It could repurpose those DVDs in ways that the studios strenuously objected to. In other words, Netfix used adversarial interoperability (AKA Competitive Compatibility or ComCom) to launch its business:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Today, Netflix is on the vanguard of the war to abolish adversarial interop. They helped lead the charge to pervert W3C web-standards, creating a DRM video standard called EME that made it a crime to build a full-featured browser without getting permission from media companies and restricting its functionality to their specifications:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

When they used adversarial interoperability to build a multi-billion-dollar global company using the movie studios’ products in ways the studios hated, that was progress. When you define “family” in ways that makes Netflix less money, that’s felony contempt of business model.

[Image ID: A Victorian family tree template populated by tintypes of old-timey people. In the foreground stands a menacing, chainsaw-wielding figure, his face obscured by a hoodie. The blade of the chainsaw is poised to chop down the family tree. A Netflix 'N' logo has been superimposed over the man's face.]

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (December 3-9, 2023)

I made a frame from this shot Wikizilla's Image of the Week. No regrets. Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, I love ya. When I was a teenager, explicit queerness was anathema to most big-name franchises. Those dominoes have been slowly falling, often in lower-profile tie-ins first, and to me this is a huge one: 69 years without a queer live-action Godzilla character are over. And Cate's the main protagonist of the show! I'm not under the delusion that media representation will cure all society's ills, but it sure doesn't hurt. Now, the non-Tumblr parts of the fandom are being completely normal about this, right? Right? Whatever, that's why you'll never get rid of me here. Cate had a couple more sweet moments with May in this episode, and Mariko Tamaki wrote episode 7, so don't expect her to stop kissing girls. Hopefully she's learned a valuable lesson about cheating though.

"The Way Out" is also another gift to those of us who have always wanted to see more of the ramifications of a world where Godzilla exists, from underground towns for the super-rich to ruined cities where federal troops shoot looters and harass people experiencing homelessness. And the show continues to find ways to use kaiju to talk about COVID, from Cate and Kentaro's exchange about San Francisco truthers ("It's easier than waking up every day and thinking, at any moment, the same could happen to you") to the blink-of-an-eye speed at which the threat went from on the news to her front door in the flashbacks.

As I foretold, we got a Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire trailer, an amusing contrast to the weighty Toho flick and Apple show already fore of mind. It's Adam Wingard unbound, that's for sure. The human cast seems pared back, a longstanding Monsterverse problem, and the kaiju fights were far and away the best part of Godzilla vs. Kong, so hopefully this approach will play to his strengths. But that movie also had excellent VFX, and some of the shots in here are rough. There's time to fix them, at least... which probably can't be said of Godzilla's design. I like that he's pink (did some Warner Bros. executive take the wrong message away from Barbie?) and sporting a thagomizer on his tail, but his proportions are uncanny. And I see Kong found the Infinity Gauntlet; good for him.

I am, of course, not done talking about Godzilla Minus One. It added over 200 screens and made $8.3 million in its second weekend in the U.S., a minuscule drop considering that its $11.4 million opening "weekend" spanned five days. Almost a third of all tickets sold this weekend were for Godzilla or Hayao Miyazaki's The Boy and the Heron, remarkable in a market so allergic to foreign imports. That brings its total to $25.3 million (more by the time you read this). With an avalanche of Christmas blockbusters on the way, its grip on premium-format screens is about to slip. Still, I see it hanging around theaters for a while. I have never seen the fandom so united in praise for a film before, and it's making plenty of new fans.

Some of those fans are in high places. Variety leaked that it's on the 20-film shortlist for Best Visual Effects at the Oscars (to be narrowed to five nominees), something I, again, never expected to read about a Toho Godzilla film. Alas, it's locked out of this year's Best International Film category due to the quirky nomination period.

Much has been made of how great the film looks on a $15 million budget. I have two caveats, one in each direction. No one is quite sure where the $15 million figure came from; Yamazaki said at a recent con appearance that he only wished he had that much to play with. (He has yet to divulge the actual budget, just that it was above ¥1 billion.) Now, unions in the Japanese film industry are much weaker than in Hollywood, so a given production budget goes a lot further in Japan. All the same, I doubt that alone explains Minus One looking better than most superhero movies made for twenty times the cost. I'll offer a couple more reasons: Yamazaki has extensive visual effects experience (he's been the VFX supervisor of all but one of the live-action films he's directed), and the film's big effects scenes aren't as busy or lengthy as many of the Hollywood counterparts. I don't know if Disney will ask Yamazaki to direct the next Star Wars movie (that would require there to be a next Star Wars movie), but the studios here should be taking notes.

the sphinx, a blog with a ton of American Godzilla rarities to share, has outdone itself—behold a continuity and dialogue script for the U.S. version of King Kong vs. Godzilla! Included in the download is a detailed comparison with the film. No huge differences, apart from the script giving the secretary added to the U.S. version a name, but a fascinating piece of history all the same.

The Minus One incarnation of Godzilla (MaiGoji?) has joined Godzilla Battle Line, accompanied by [SPOILER]. To be honest, my enthusiasm for this game has been flagging, and I'm not caught up on the strategies developing around these two, so I'll just refer you to Sir Melee's channel as usual. This Godzilla's also doing a collaboration with the Japanese mobile game Fleet of Blue Flame.

Tiffany Grant, Asuka's original voice actress, will narrate the audiobooks for the Neon Genesis Evangelion: ANIMA light novels which explore an Instrumentality-free path for the show. Seven Seas Entertainment published them in English from 2019 to 2021, which, to be honest, was also news to me.

This one's for my fellow library workers: the obscenely popular Who HQ nonfiction series for children is publishing a book about Godzilla next June. I don't know if this will have quite the same impact on today's young Godzilla fans as the Ian Thorne tome had on Gen Xers and Millennials, what with the Internet and all, but it's certain to be more factual. Expect illustrations instead of licensed photos, and not just because of Toho.

I can finally talk more about the Godzilla x Kong: Titan Chasers mobile game without fearing a DMCA. Not that there's much to talk about; it's freemium through and through and I'm not sure I know a single person who's excited for it. Interesting to see some critters from the comics break into another medium, at least. Here's the trailer.

[anthonybialy]

Lying Down the Line

I hope they’re lying.  Anti-architects who claim their devastation will properly order civilization have lost the benefit of the doubt from their casualties.  A kind perspective is as tough as affording anything not shoplifted.  Looking at perpetually woeful results makes it tough to think perpetrators could be anything but liars.  Annotating falsehoods is the only truth about them.

Presuming our nation was founded in order to oppress some of the people in it requires ignoring that whole document dedicated to limiting government, which is also part of charmingly lunatic revisionist philosophy.  The search for oppression no matter how thoroughly it’s hidden is sadly typified by the 1619 Project, a project with 1619 lies.  Seeing racism everywhere is part of a commitment to grievances.  A problem in search of a solution offers a tidy summary of liberalism.  Like the cops they think are masochistic bigots, they’re the source of trouble.

Using science as a shield is how its biggest zealots show their love for it.  Aspiring autocrats can’t embrace anything like conclusions.  Getting every last virus assertion wrong sure doesn’t seem like a cure.  Shuttering society didn’t prevent its spread any more than breathing through cotton.  The logical feat of announcing the shot must work because vaccines do is like pretending Joe Biden must be a good president because George Washington was.

Trying to keep panic simmering is so you get used to feeling alert.  A lack of panic means the next emergency will send your adrenaline levels to uncomfortable highs.  It’s better to freak out constantly.  Controlling an illness by controlling people just happens to further their policy goals, so please ignore connections your brain makes about mocking liberties and rampaging viruses.  The only way to make exploiting misery more despicable is their proclivity for exacerbating it.  One could nearly call it a talent.

The gender shift fad works about as well as getting rich by printing money.  Indulging the confused is scientifically dismissed, which I figured would be appreciated by those who claim to believe in it.  Allegedly advanced times are alarmingly deluded and depressing.  You can be certain of having absolute truth on your side if you suddenly decided that an accommodation nobody could have even conceived of a decade ago is the moral issue of our times.

Anyone capable of experiencing reality can’t possibly see men and women dressing up as vice versa and believe telling those engaged in gender cosplay that they pulled it off deserves a pat on the head.  The gesture would be less condescending than they are to their playthings.

Absolute truth is mean.  The only change is in perception of what’s happening.  A grotesque violation of something kindergarteners don’t need explained to them infects legal adults.

Pretending to help is their brand.  Actually harming is their result.  Vilifying double takes is a violation of biology and an affront to true respect.  The woefully misguided attitude is something to actually change that would work.

Proper science offers a reflection of compassion.  Of course, it’s not in the way ironically intolerant goons figure.  Humans can’t change chromosomes, but we can offer assistance to those struggling to identify their anatomy.  Contrary to preening, willful ignorance harms both subjects and the world they inhabit.  Celebrating delusions while pretending they’re real isn’t compassionate any more than ignoring sonograms.

Legal theft helps victims, according to thieves.  Getting the government’s permission 

era where shoplifting is not merely tolerated but encouraged as a way to survive in an economy that’s grown mean for some reason.  We really do depend on each other.  Of course and as usual, it’s not in the way liberals think.  Fiends with more money would hire workers or buy stuff if only they weren’t punished for pleasing customers.

Those with misdirected imaginations can’t imagine any other way for life to occur than through their vigorous intervention.  This White House already despises the notion of compensation for provided products.  Their inherent bias leads them to presume the economy needs planning, which is the closest they come to following logic.  If true, it wouldn’t need the guidance of people so amazing at productivity that they don’t need to go out and create proof.

Keep confiscating income and watch conditions get worse.  Clearly, there’s not enough taken.  The notion of buying a house is as foreign as working in order to buy things.  Nobody can afford anything, anyway, so go ahead and take another mental health day.

They don’t truly believe these things, do they?  Determining if professional masochists inflicting the present woeful circumstances are lying to themselves or everyone else.  There’s certainly no truth involved.  Attempting to demotivate is as evident as working to berate.  You can feel the joy.

The ends justify the means except for how both blow.  Our royals must fib in order to impose decline.  Except for how they make life worse, they make life better.  We embrace the best of both worlds otherwise.  Berating dissidents who notice the results of their novel takes on life is their only option.  It’s not like they’re about to start being good at things, much less stop pretending they’re anything other than bad. 

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 18: 14-17. "The Sap Buckets."

Now we discuss the Little Darlings, the Court of the Assembly. They too must be chosen at the discretion of the Five Seraphim. There hasn't been a Court in almost three thousand years but in the Melachim, it states the King of Israel maintains an advisory board that is a hybrid of the Sanhedrin, other nobles, and politicians who ensure the voice of the nation is not lost in all negotiations that take place in the Chamber.

Much of the Melachim is possessed by worry for the potential for nepotism, whoredomes, greed, jealousy, and license to overtake the Crown and the Court itself, which is why in modern times, we would defer to an intense legal framework that did not exist in ancient times that would rule out the potential for such things.

The following passages sound bellicose, but just as Jacob and Rachel stole Laban's household gods from him, the Court will come and choose little godlings to take into its academies and prepare them from early in life to govern. The process must include boys and girls from all around the planet from every nation and culture and be one without a second.

The goal is to sell graduates into governments all around the world and solidify the position of the Commonwealth of Israel forever. Those who are marked in their accomplishments shall ascend to greater and more important positions, but membership in the Court is nontheless not an insignificant way to ensure the Mashiach does not end.

The household gods are found in the Torah and in all the world's religions. For the purposes of Kabbalah, the transformation of a figure of speech into a trait of the character, one must know the proper definition of terms and how they are measured. The matrix for this is immense and cannot be fully explained here but the Shoftim numbers them at 600, and states they all have to surpass the gate of the mind and take up residence in the Self.

They roll up into what is called the idol, the King of Israel and he or she cannot be anything less than the scriptures explain lest the world fall into the darkness it is currently floundering in once again.

I have stated in spite of this, the Shoftim is about you, a young Levite, not the rest. Levites are persons who stand out from the rest of humanity has having undergone Ha Shem; they possess not one delusion about how life is to be lived during its entire course. As we near the end of the text, the stakes associated with the construction of the Levite Self will become more intense. For now, we stand at the gate:

14 Then the five men who had spied out the land of Laish said to their fellow Danites, “Do you know that one of these houses has an ephod, some household gods and an image overlaid with silver? Now you know what to do.”

 15 So they turned in there and went to the house of the young Levite at Micah’s place and greeted him.

 16 The six hundred Danites, armed for battle, stood at the entrance of the gate. 

17 The five men who had spied out the land went inside and took the idol, the ephod and the household gods while the priest and the six hundred armed men stood at the entrance of the gate.

Verse 14 describes the current age. There are Jewish houses and schools, all equipped with idealistic teachers and students but they do not yet have the Levite of Micah, AKA "the sap."

It is not inaccurate to call all Jewish persons a forest of balsam trees or a vineyard with waxing fruits hanging from their trellises, all contain the sap but we need to make a distilled spirit.

For the purposes of Mashiach, the sap is the science of government. There are scientific approaches a plenty to the problems facing mankind. The transformation of the sap into the syrup is but a change in attitude.

We did not have to turn our backs on the people of Ukraine when they were invaded. That was a devastating misstep for the world. We have long possessed the weapons, money, and science of warfare needed to defeat a diabolic house like the Kremlin but lacked the will. The King of the Court of the Assembly of Israel knows full well willpower is everything in the performance of the Torah. The rescue of Ukraine and all the refugees and flood victims and the triumph of the mighty over the child molesters in the Republican Party are but paltry matters to those who possess the sap.

All of this is rolled up in the 11th Commandment, which means the principals of free thinking nations must be taught to all Jewish people from birth. They in turn will teach the world as young adults onward.

This explained further in a typical four part analyis using the Gematria:

v. 14: Now you know what to do. The Niumber is 12939, יבטגט‎ ‎, yabtagt, "will target."

The target is always Shabbos, the margin of happiness on all effort.

v. 15: So they turned in there. Turning in means Shabbos is an internal commitment with profound implications to the rest of the world. True happiness is consequence free. It is not enough to not be in trouble with someone somewhere. The Levite of Micah is what we want "a conscious fear." A phobia for trouble is automatically also Shabbos.

v. 16:  The six hundred Danites, armed for battle, stood at the entrance of the gate. To arm for battle is to be shrewd, competitive. This means in addition to Shabbos, one must also want a title.

The fukchuks- fundamentalist Christians must not have an opportunity to rule over the affairs of this planet. They are self-entitled and the dire enemy of God and all He has made and they must not be allowed to live here alongside us.

So always, all Jewish persons must seek positions of power and authority and seek legal opportunities to exclude and finally to do away with them.

v. 17: They went inside. The Number is 8678, ח‎וז‎ח, hozah, "this is the pact."

[ophiuchus-interactive]

Originality, Criticism, and Entitlement

After joining the IF community, I've come to see (and experience) the accusation that there are IF writers who steal, copy, or even plagiarize another author's work. I'm going to explain why throwing such accusations around is harmful not only to the accused, but the community as a whole.

This is also an explanation as to why they're incredibly stupid criticisms, and unless there is actual, direct evidence that the work is being copied or stolen, it is not, as such "critics" want to call it, "ripping off" anybody.

(Long read)

Star Wars (1977) is considered by many to be the world's first real blockbuster, with such sensation and hype that even over thirty years since its original release date, it reminds a key figure in our pop culture and media today. In every form or fashion, Star Wars was groundbreaking in terms of cinematic storytelling and movie-going experience.

But Star Wars is nothing new.

George Lucas, the creator, has discussed many times over the years just how precisely the world of Star Wars came to be, and its origins go back much, much farther than you think.

George Lucas claimed that the idea of Star Wars was inspired by Flash Gordon serials, a comic book series that was turned into a TV show in the 1930s. The famous title crawl that appears at the beginning of every Star Wars movie?

Look familiar?

It is also a pretty well known fact that the Galactic Empire and Rebels, along with the battle scenes within the movies, also take heavy inspiration from WWII. Stormtroopers are German Gestapo, the X-Wings and TIE Fighters are inspired by WWII aerial combat: https://youtu.be/msb8OdvBBjU

There is a clear right and wrong that is written into the Star Wars universe, and that most assuredly comes from the material and real world events that George Lucas was inspired by; serial comics and shows of the 30s, 40s, and 50s, leaned heavily into black and white morality. This is why superheroes from that era like Superman or Batman were originally written as static characters. "Superman is invincible, that's not as interesting as the X-Men struggling with their place in society!" Well, yeah, that's because Superman was meant to be nothing more than a comic book character that allows children to act out their power fantasy- "you can't make me go to bed, mom! Superman doesn't go to bed!" etc. etc.

But Star Wars has inspiration that goes back even further than the 1930s. It goes back to ancient Mesopotamia.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is the world's oldest and most notable form of literature that we know of. It is an epic that describes the heroic journey of one Gilgamesh, told in five parts. This is the earliest known example of what is known as "The Hero's Journey" in literature.

If you have any knowledge of the first movie of Star Wars, you're well aware of the story beats that you can read out in this diagram, as well be able to distinguish the similarities it has with The Epic of Gilgamesh.

Does this mean that Star Wars ripped off The Epic of Gilgamesh?

No. It doesn't. Because even though the story shares similar story beats, and features a black-and-white morality, a sci-fi space opera is a far cry from ancient Mesopotamian gods battling with each other. George Lucas didn't read the epic in school and decide "ah ha! I know how I'm going to make money!"

He was inspired, and he took that inspiration and created a multi-billion dollar franchise that millions love across the globe. He wrote that story and directed that movie, he put in the blood, sweat (lots of sweat- they filmed in Tunisia) and tears to make something WHOLLY NEW, and yet in some ways...similar.

Humans are very complex creatures, and our brain loves nothing more than finding patterns in things. Why is there such a thing as the Rule of Three in literature, a rule that dictates the satisfaction the reader gets when a story has a plot that occurs in three parts? Why is there traditionally only three acts? It is, simply put, satisfying. This traditional three-part structure often times creates stories that may look or feel similar simply because of how it is structured. This is not copying. This is a literature technique that humans have been using since the beginning of language itself.

And this is why I have such a problem with the people suggesting that authors are "copying" popular works- no one solely invented story beats, no one invented the supernatural fiction, no one, singular person, solely created the concepts that we are using today. No one. Not a single thing written is wholly original.

Originality is overrated. We are products of our environment, our culture, our media we consume- if an IF writer has a story with vampires and other supernatural creatures, and the MC is a detective attempting to solve crimes, was that invented by the very popular Wayhaven Chronicles by Mishka Jenkins? No. Vampires in media are nothing new, detectives in media are nothing new, and if they so happen to exist in other stories, what of it? Did Mishka invent vampires? No. They're a cultural phenomenon that has existed in multiple civilizations at once. Did she invent detectives? Obviously not.

Mishka was inspired and so were countless of other IF writers to write a story that involved the supernatural. These IF writers may have similar story beats, they may have similar themes, but that does not make it copying.

You know what makes Star Wars or The Wayhaven Chronicles or any other form of entertaining media great? Innovation.

It is how the authors tell the story, and why it is being written that creates such vast differences in genres. Star Wars isn't The Epic of Gilgamesh because its just "in space", it is the magnificent, innovative storytelling behind Star Wars that makes it so unique in our minds. The cinematography, the storytelling, the dialogue, the acting- all of that hard work into making something worthwhile and good is what makes it so unique when comparing it to other media that feature the literary use of "The Hero's Journey".

We all have something to bring to the table, to tell our stories that have a piece of us inside them. They are influenced by our laughter, our tears, our horror, our love, our rage or terrible indifference. They are influenced by our passions, our delusions, and they are written because we wish it to be so.

Are all impressionists copying Monet because he popularized impressionism? Are all artists who paint in similar styles copying off of the one who created the style in the first place? No. They're not.

To accuse IF authors, particularly the INNOCENT ones of copying others is an unbelievably insulting and ignorant statement that disregards the author's creativity and free will to write whatever the hell they want. If all you have to see out of a story is the basic, bare bones elements to it, then allow me to speak for all IF authors out there and say:

You're missing the fucking point!

We've all put our hard work into not only LEARNING a coding language (which, surprise, not ALL of us know and have to spend HOURS figuring out) but we've learned a coding language to create a game for other people to enjoy, and we'll be damn fucking lucky if we're able to get any money off of our work that we have put in it.

This criticism becomes a form of entitlement real fast, as if a reader has any say as to the pace or way an IF story (or any art for that matter) is written.

Most of us are doing this because we love the idea of putting our work out there as an IF fiction for fun. Some of us have to work jobs, some of us have complicated lives that demand constant attention, some of us wish to do this as a living, but all of us?

All of us deserve the courtesy of being a creator that is sharing their work with the world.

The next time you decide to accuse an IF writer of copying another person, ask yourself if it's legitimate plagiarism or you're just someone who doesn't have the capacity to consider that literary themes, tropes, cliches, and genres, are not the same thing as "copying".

[friendlyneighbourhoodpapergay]

Why I don't like traumacore: A sourced masterpost.

This is something I've been asked a few times, and often the argument used to support traumacore involves art therapy. I figured I'd make a full post explaining in detail why I believe traumacore is often harmful to both the creator/poster and to the viewer. This post will be long; I apologize, but I wanted to make everything as clear as I could. Sources are cited or linked throughout.

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of traumacore, the messages and imagery used within the traumacore genre. Self-harm is mentioned, and suicide is very briefly mentioned as well.

Traumacore is not art therapy, nor is it therapeutic as a whole.

The type of traditional art therapy that traumacore is most similar to would be collage art, which involves creating something through the collection of other images and quotes. However, a notable difference between traumacore and art therapy is that art therapy is undergone with a licensed psychologist; the art is created in order for the psychologist to talk with the patient, figure out the underlying emotions that the art represents, and then work with the patient on how to replace the harmful or negative emotions like shame, fear and disgust with more positive ones. Art therapy is designed to help the psychologist guide the patient towards acceptance of their trauma, which can then allow them to work on healing.

To quote this psychology today article, “No artistic talent is necessary for art therapy to succeed, because the therapeutic process is not about the artistic value of the work, but rather about finding associations between the creative choices made and a client's inner life.”

To go further back, Margaret Naumberg (regarded by many as the mother of modern-day art therapy), used the technique of art therapy to promote introspection in the client. A quote from one of her books, “Dynamically Oriented Art Therapy: Its Principles and Practices”: “Whether trained or untrained individuals have the capacity to project their inner conflicts into visual form. In this approach, the therapist withholds interpretation, encouraging clients to discover what their picture means to them”.

This is where my issues with traumacore as an aesthetic begin. The vast majority of the traumacore content is not based in the idea of creating the images so as to examine the underlying feelings or undergo self-examination; it’s vent art made purely to be posted and then left.This is not the same thing as art therapy, which is based on the principle that the art should be looked at and thought about by its creator and a therapist to uncover what lead to its creation.

Venting in this way may provide temporary relief, but does not contribute to healing in the long run – as this study on art therapy as a venting method in adolescents says, the art “allows both therapist and client to better address the problem”. In addition, studies have found that venting alone does not cause the emotional distress surrounding a big event (such as a traumatic experience) to go away or even diminish - the benefits can be useful, but are often only temporary. (Links One, Two).

It's also been found that venting can elicit strong emotional responses in the listener; depending on circumstances, hearing someone else vent about a negative event may produce negative feelings in yourself.

(TW for this paragraph: Discussion of traumacore, abuse mentioned, blood and gore mentioned) This is particularly true with traumacore: The messages displayed are often entirely based on the worst things that can happen to a person, and will also speak directly to the viewer. Messages like “It was all your fault”, “I ruined everything”, “I can’t take this any more”, or sometimes depictions of innocent-looking things (like toys) surrounded by blood, gore or distressing wording are naturally going to cause people with trauma based in those things to be triggered. The language used can often mirror that used by abuser(s); of course that would be triggering to someone who has suffered abuse and trauma.

I myself write poetry about the worst things that have happened to me, and I then discuss these with my therapist. If I were to post it, it would be upsetting and triggering and distressing by nature, because of the very content of the art form. The same applies to traumacore.

There’s also the issue of how traumacore is often paranoia- or delusion-inducing in those with psychosis. Even traumacore that is not created by people with psychosis will display psychosis-triggering imagery or wording. Examples of this is linked here: (Trigger Warning: this links to a post with traumacore that contains religious imagery, delusional thinking and potential paranoia-inducing content as an example.)

This isn’t something that can be excused by trauma, venting, ""art therapy"" or anything else. It’s just ableist. It’s actively damaging to trauma survivors as a whole, and especially to psychotics (such as myself) – whether they are trauma survivors or not. There is no excuse for it.

To summarize:

Traumacore, on the face of it, may come across as a weird-but-useful coping mechanism taking inspiration from the psychological technique of art therapy. The reality, however, is that traumacore is not art therapy at all; it is inherently vent-related in nature with no focus on introspection, and as a result can be incredibly damaging. Traumacore often focuses on the messages of the abuser, or on the shame related to having trauma, which – rather than removing power from these – actually reinforces those negative messages through the nature of repitition, and therefore the negative experiences and emotions surrounding those messages. Even going off personal experience alone, I myself along with a number of other trauma survivors I have spoken to have had all sorts of awful reactions to seeing traumacore, including flashbacks, panic attacks, sudden suicidality, and psychotic episodes.

Now, does this mean all trauma- or vent-based art is harmful? No. Lots of art can be created out of negative experiences – as mentioned above, I myself write poetry.

Does it mean that the traumacore, whilst a potential temporary coping mechanism for some trauma survivors, can be incredibly triggering, destructive and distressing to those with trauma and/or psychosis? Yes.

If you want to vent your trauma, there are healthier and better ways of doing so than traumacore. I would say that it’s a coping mechanism in the same way that physical self-harm is a coping mechanism; just because it provides temporary relief does not make it healthy, good or worth promoting under any circumstances.

If you want to take a closer/more in-depth look at actual art therapy, my personal favourite book on the subject is "The Art and Science of Evaluation in the Arts Therapies: How do you know what's working?" by Elaine and Bernard Feder. It goes into what the basic principles of art therapy are, and how art therapy can be used most effectively. In my opinion it's also written in a way that's easier to understand than some of the heavier psychology books.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 29

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+, underage DNI)

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky held the old phone against his ear as he waited for Natasha to pass the line onto Steve, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Once again, there were no news coming from them. There’s not enough evidence for us to even make a guess, he’d tell him every time he called the super soldier. It did not matter how many hours he spent on the phone, a team of synthesoids, witches, spies and super soldiers couldn’t bring upon themselves to figure out who was threatening his girlfriend. His mind couldn’t stop going to the worse places. If he didn’t figure it out, who would?

   - Buck, we can go through the record off people who got into her building but do we even know if it’s the same person? 

   - It has to be, Steve. Go through the records, check for anyone who isn’t from the building.

   - Have you asked Y/N who she thinks might be? 

   - No, I didn’t tell her. - he gulped. - I promised her she’d be safe. I’m not gonna tell her. 

   - That is a ter ... - the line broke down and before he could call out for Steve’s name again, he heard Y/N’s voice right behind him. 

   - When were you gonna tell me? - she held up the letter in front of his face and he swore all the colour drained from his face. - Bucky, when were you gonna tell me? How long have you known? Where did this come from?

Bucky dropped the phone to the holder, visibly gulping at the sight of his girlfriend holding the letter he had sworn not to let her see. However, except of seeing the fear she had displayed the first time it happened, she was upset, mad even with that hidden type of serene look which he was sure would scare any army. She put the letter on the table, crossing her arms at him. 

    - It came yesterday. I don’t know if it actually arrived yesterday but that’s when I got it from the post box.

    - Why didn’t you tell me? - she sighed looking down at her feet, one hand holding her weight on the table. Bucky’s jaw locked, eyes moving from side to side before he wrapped his hand around her forearm and led her into the bedroom. Last thing he needed was for her whole family to know not only was he terrible at his job, he was also terrible at being her boyfriend. First fight in her parents’ home ... you can’t fuck up any further Barnes. - James, I’m not toying around.

     - I thought it wasn’t important. - he lied. 

     - They found my family home, James. It is important and you hid it from me. Why did you even open my mail? 

     - I hoped to be able to find who did it before I told you. I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. - he put his hands in his pocket. She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over her chest. 

     - Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me or touch me? You ... Do you ... You agree with they called me? - she frowned, her own anger replaced by her own insecurities. Bucky blinked slowly as if he was processing what she had said, not believing the words which had came out of her mouth. - I ... I didn’t mean to be too forward, I jus ...

     - No. No, no, no, no ... - he walked so fast he was almost running, holding her by her arms. - No. I don’t agree with them, I would never agree with it.

   - Then ... are you really not in the mood and I just made a complete idiot of myself?

   - I don’t, no, I just feel like I failed you, failed my job. - he cupped her face in his hands, trying to find her gaze but she refused to look at him. - I don’t want to fail you, everyone but you. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I thought that you’d feel safer if you didn’t know.

    - So you thought keeping me in my own delusion was the best thing to do?

    - I’m sorry. - he leaned his forehead against hers. She looked up, into his baby blue eyes as her hand hoovered over his arm. - I didn’t want ... I didn’t mean to delude you. 

    - You didn’t fail me. - she brought his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it before leaning her face against it. - It is not your fault that letter came in.

    - But I should know who it was ... or at least Steve should. He’s proving himself to be quite useless ... - he grumbled on, which made her hold in her laughter by biting the inside of her lip. - I’m sorry, dollface. I really am.

     - If you ever kiss my head when I’m trying to kiss you ever again, we will have severe problems. - she pointed her finger jokingly at him. 

     - Heard it loud and clear, princess. - he pulled her arm so she was chest to chest with him as if they were about to dance. - Just so we’re clear, I do not agree with those letters. 

      - Please don’t hide things from me. - her ring finger traced his cheekbone softly. - I can’t stand it from everyone but I personally can’t stand it coming from you. You’re the only one in my corner.

     - I’ll always be in your corner but I will want to protect you and I will sometimes do something stupid. 

      - Why do something stupid when you could do me? - she looked at him with that little shy grin which was just always so endearing to him. Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. It was a short kiss, broken by him merely to look at her pout.

     - You’re getting frisky, princess? 

     - Well, you did lose your chance to see what’s under my robe. - her fingers slightly rose the hem of her robe to show a bit of her lace garter before dropping it to grab her dress. - But I do need to grab some takeaway.

    - I’m going with you. - he followed into her own ensuite bathroom, but she stopped him, holding the door edge in her hand. - You were going to show it to me anyway. 

     - Next time don’t hide stuff from me. - she smiled before locking the door leaving him alone while she got dressed in a jumper like dress. Bucky leaned his forehead against the door, his mind going haywire as the minute she was gone he immediately started thinking of how he hadn’t found who was sending those letters. How come no one had figured it out? Surely whoever had done it couldn’t be that  good at covering their tracks unless they were a professional. Y/N exited the bathroom in her jumper dress and put her hands on the nape of his neck. Bucky took that opportunity to rise up the hem of her dress, watching the soft white stocking reach its end where it connected to her garter. - No, Bucky. No. 

     - When did you have this? I’ve never seen you wear it before. - he tried to pull it upwards a bit more but she stopped him by merely wrapping her hand around his wrist. - Did you buy it for me, princess?

    - Oh no, I wore this when I was 20. In front a 150 people audience. 

    - What? - he looked as confused as the day someone explained what the internet was to him. - Someone else has seen it? Why can’t I see it?

    - Because you’re not in the mood. - she walked away to grab her coat and her scarf. - Are you coming?

    - Oh, in more ways then one, princess. - he too grabbed his jacket, following her down the stairs.

He held her hand as they stepped outside, going into a mode he wasn’t used to going into very often. Everything and everyone was suspicious to him and at any moment, he felt like he was ready to kill someone with only a snap of his fingers. Bucky wanted that and at the same time he didn’t want it. It was a hard duality, that of wanting to defend her at all costs and ensure she was the happiest and that of wanting to just bask into how it felt to be hers, because, god, did it felt god to be hers. It was like waking up in spring mornings and all his mistakes seemed to fade whenever she smiled, the way her nose scrunched up and she hide her mouth with her hands, saying her smile was much to ugly for him to see it. Of course she was lying, her smile was the cutest thing. Yet, he wanted her safe, he wanted her to be endlessly happy. He could never get rid of his demons, of what they had done to him, but he could make sure no one hurt her, no one treated her like a commodity because she was everything but that. 

    - Claire said Aunt Petunia corned you about babies. - she spoke out as they waited on the line. - I’m sorry, I keep telling her not to but I think she’s in competition with her friend about it. 

     - It’s okay. - he chuckled. - Do you want one?

     - Baby?

     - Yeah, do you want a kid someday?

     - I do but only one. I think my mum and dad lost a pound of hair each time me and my siblings bickered. Besides, Colin almost made me believe you were cheating on me.

    - What?

    - Yeah. I was desperate, I called Chuck for help. Chuck. Also, I think he’s dating.

    - Circling back to the baby question ... would you consider a baby, maybe you and me have one, someday?

    - You want to have a baby with me? - she peered up from looking at her shoes to look at him. Bucky immediately regretted the question, she was young and probably not thinking about kids. - Buck?

    - Forget it.

    - No, Bucky. I didn’t mean it like that ... I just thought you wouldn’t want to have kids. 

    - I don’t know. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I mean, I don’t really have much family left and I’d like to think, maybe someday, we could have our own.

    - Bucky ...

    - I’m freaking you out.

    - No. I’ve thought about it too, buying a house, having a baby, but ... everything I do is controlled and scheduled and tight lipped so I tend not to day dream about it. 

    - Hey ... - he hooked his arm under her waist, pulling her close to him. - You still have agency and besides, I’m really good at going undercover if you need to. 

    - You always know what to say. 

    - That’s because you’re predictable, princess.

    - I am not. - she retorted, pouting as she crossed her arms. 

    - Yes, you are, princess.

    - Really? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, before standing on her tip toes to whisper against his hear. - I’m not wearing any underwear. 

    - What? - he blushed as Y/N smiled before stepping forward to collect the takeaway bags from the customer assistant. Bucky cleared his throat as the two of them walked outside. - I thought you had something to show me.

    - I did but then I realised it is really uncomfortable to be in that lingerie, so I took it off.

Bucky felt most of his blood travelled south as he looked up and down her body. Damn it, suddenly her home felt so far away from the restaurant. He couldn’t help but stare at her body as  they  walked down the street, the way her dress draped over what he now knew was her naked body. Part of him felt jealous that she was in such a state in front of everyone else but the other part, the most overwhelming one, wanted to push her into an alley and take her right there and then and maybe he would’ve done so if he hadn’t seen a few paparazzi trying to appear invisible. He put himself on her left, mostly covering her, wrapping his hand around hers as he picked up the pace to get to her place. Once again he stood behind her as she opened her door, so close her could smell her daisy perfume and if he were a bit younger and lacked self control, he would’ve drowned her neck in hickeys. However, he thought seeing himself display some strong PDA with his girlfriend on the next morning’s paper. She took her jacket off, hanging it on the hooks by the door.

   - We’re going. - he whispered against her ear as she placed the takeaway bags on the kitchen. She opened her mouth to protest, wanting to defend her right to have the yummy food she had just bought but Bucky gave her no chance to do so, instead holstering her upon his shoulder and climbing up the stairs.

Y/N waved at her younger brother who stopped in his tracks as Bucky passed through him and straight into her bedroom. Before she could protest once more, he laid her on her own bedroom, climbing on top of her and started to kiss her neck which replaced the half done protests with small moans. His hand slide up her left to her tight, rising the dress in the process and sure enough, she had not been lying about not wearing any underwear. Other than the garter which held up the sheer white stockings, she was a bare as the day she was born. Bucky took a moment to appreciate it, the bare woman laid on the bed under him, looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.

   - I must say, princess. Whatever you had to show me can’t be better than this.

   - Maybe my food downstairs is better. 

   - You’re not walking down any stairs anytime soon, after I’m done with you. - he leaned down to kiss her, a harsh full of need kiss as if he hadn’t seen her in decades.

She smiled through the kiss, hands held over his neck as he placed kisses and sucked her skin in places she was sure to get a hickey the next day, but it didn’t matter. In all honesty, nothing really mattered when he kissed her. Y/N held her hands up as he took off the dress and basked in her nakedness. Screw all the women he had ever slept with, no one compared to her. It didn’t have to do with beauty or even seduction. She was just her, just herself in her own naked glory standing under him, eyes shining with a naive like lust as she awaited his next movement. Bucky should’ve done something else but he decided just to kiss her, fingers caressing the soft skin of her face.

    - What is it? - she asked as he interrupted the kiss once more.

    - You are the most wonderful thing in my life, Y/N. - he kissed her once more, one hand coming to remove his own trousers. 

Her lips stretched into a small smile as she rose her forehead to press it against his. She mumbled a small I love you, kissing the side of his lips as he pushed his cock into her. Her lips stretched into a gasp as he grunted once he shed himself completely inside her, eyes closed as he let the feeling of being inside of her take complete hold of him. She continued mid gasp, not a single thought forming inside her mind rather than how good he felt, how full she was. 

Bucky opened his eyes, baby blues almost navy coloured as his hand pushed some of her hair away from her face, kissing her to silence her little gaps and moans which came out in such meek tones, it made him even hard just from listening to them. The kiss was forceful, his lips  swallowing all her sounds as he slowly circled his hips against hers, one hand holding the side of her hips with a vice like grip. He pushed his hips back, removing himself from her only to thrust back into her, establishing a slow and delayed pace, grip strong enough to leave a bruise the next day. She whined, nails dug into the fabric of the sleeveless tank top he had not taken off. 

   - Bucky, please ... - she pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes. - Faster.

   - No, princess. You’ve been so bad lately ... what should I do with you? - he stopped moving, stilling inside of her.

   - Move? Please?

   - Giving me handjobs in a plane, pouting when you don’t get attention, walking around without underwear. That’s not good girl behaviour.  

   - Bucky ... - she tried to rock her hips against his but he stopped her, hand firmly pressing her against the mattress. - Bucky, please.

   - I don’t know, princess. - he leaned into the crook of her neck, playfully bitting her  sensitive skin, before kissing it and doing it again. - You look so pretty when you’re begging for my cock. I almost want to see it more. Maybe leave you like this all night, what about that?

   - Please, Bucky. Please. - a tears rolled down her cheek as she tried once again to rock her hips against his into a pointless effort. - Please, please, I need it.

   -  I know. You got so upset when I didn’t fuck you last night, dollface. - he moved out and into her in a long, slow motion, earning more moans from her. - You’re just becoming so needy for me, princess. 

   - Please. - she pouted, raising up to kiss him, her hands moving up to try and take off his shirt but he refused, shutting her actions by starting to relentlessly thrust in and out of her as if he had been possessed by mere lust. Y/N threw her head back as his hand grabbed her breast harshly and he continued to relentlessly fuck her.

Her  legs trembled as he went back to paying attention to her neck and jaw, the mix of all the emotions chasing her high. She whined, trying to deal with all she was feeling from his lips against her neck, his hand massaging her breast and flicking her nipple every once in a while as well as his cock veins against the walls of her channel.  She managed to open her eyes for a few seconds and swore she could cum merely at the sight of him as he moved away from her neck to thrust faster into her, head thrown back, pink reddish lips opened in a circle, sweat forming in hairline. She had done that, she had gotten him to look so lost in pleasure and that was as stimulating as something could get. 

His hand left her breast to start circling her clit, slowly and painful, a harsh contrast with the fast pace. Her own hand replaced the place that had once been occupied by his hand on her breast, biting her lip as he continued with his motions. Bucky did not stop until she reached her orgasm, the tight feeling in her lower stomach exploding into a particular high pitch moan which he silenced by kissing her, reminding her her parents were still downstairs after all. He didn’t take long to reach his own orgasm either, continuing to thrust quickly into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. The orgasm weakened his hold over her for a few seconds, leading to him collapsing to her side, pushing her along with him. Bucky slipped out of her, reaching up to kiss her lips followed by a small kiss to her nose. 

   - Hi. - she said shyly,  cuddling against his chest as he pushed a cover over her body. - No more secrets, promise me.  

   - I can’t promise that. I can promise that whatever I do, I do it because I love you and I want you safe. 

   - Buck.

   - I will try. - he kissed her forehead. - Good?

   - Good.

She remained in his arms, cuddling against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beat softly against his ribcage. It felt good, it felt good to feel loved, to hear the heartbeat of someone who loved her, someone who existed, someone who she had only dreamed about and now existed in real life and loved her. The two watched the old clock on her table turn to midnight. Christmas day. She looked up to him, extending to give him a quick kiss.

   - Merry Christmas, love.

   - Merry Christmas, princess. - he kissed her nose. 

   - I thought we could trade presents between us. Make it special. 

   - Me first. - he said and before she could ever argue, he was rolling out of bed with a small blanket covering his nudity to grab a present wrapped in festive wrapping paper with her name written on it. He sat on the bed, next to her, pushing the duvet to cover her so she wouldn’t be cold. - I hope you like it.

   - I’m sure I will. - Y/N smiled at him before proceeding to unwrap her present. It was a book and one she recognised very well from seeing pictures on Google whenever she looked around jokingly for first editions on Ebay. - Buck, it’s too much. I can’t.

   - It’s mine. Well, it used to be mine but now it’s yours. 

   - How do you even know I like the Hobbit?

   - Chuck told me.

   - You and Chuck talk? - she giggled, unable to picture her best friend having a conversation with Bucky who was always brooding.

   - We don’t but whenever we’re on set, he just keeps talking. He said you liked it, so I thought it would be fun if you had the one I read when I was what? About your age?

   - Oh okay, grampa. - she poked his chest jokingly before handing him his present.

Bucky kissed the side of her temple, opening the package to see an album like photo with his name written in gold. He gave her a confused look but she merely nodded her head, telling him to open the book. Once he did, he saw “All the times Bucky Barnes was a hero” written in her handwriting followed by pages and pages of articles calling him a hero, the saviour of the day and other words he did not equalise with himself. 

   - I know you don’t believe you’re a good man but I do and it’s not just me who thinks it. There has been darkness in your  life but the way you continued onwards, doing good to the world which hurt you ... that’s noble. - he heard her voice almost in a echo like fashion as he moved page after page. It did not only ranged from his time in the Howling Commandos but even til now, with recent missions and facts. Everything was there, different journal cut outs, different testimonies. Everything. 

Bucky looked to his side, looked at her who was smiling at the book in his hand which she had put together and he knew. He just knew.

   - Y/N?

   - Hm?

   - Marry me. 

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[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

[medusinestories]

Onwards to the episode in which we get to see Flint and Silver each having a very bad day (as well as two literal dicks that nobody had asked to see).

Black Sails VII (s1 ep07)

- We open on Pastor Lambrick's sweaty face as he intensely rehearses the Easter sermon and he’s obviously eaten up by what he did with Miranda. His sermon, unsurprisingly, focuses on sin, keeping sin hidden, and the hell that awaits the sinner. Which leads us nicely onto Flint, who’s distracted (by his own sin? by thoughts of Miranda? both?) during a meeting with Eleanor. Eleanor is pissed that Miranda let Richard Guthrie send a message to the Andromache and then waltz into town to close up his business; Flint tries to take the heat off Miranda, once again protecting her (at this point, he may not know the contents of the letter).

- During this meeting, Flint is startled when Silver first speaks up to say that the mob in the street was bad - clearly Silver is a sort of intruder in this meeting. But Eleanor, after Silver reminds her by unsubtly clearing his throat, tells Flint that he’s not to harm Silver because he was instrumental in setting up the Consortium. Silver looks so pleased with himself in these scenes, and Flint quite defeated when he tells Silver to follow him back to their camp. I love it.

- To parallel Flint/Miranda’s Sulky Sex scene from ep4, we have Anne/Rackham’s frustrating/disconnected sex scene. It shows us a few things about them mainly that Anne wants to keep a lot of control over what happens, hence Rackham being tied up (though of course this might also be his kink), her wearing a shirt that covers up most of her body, and the reverse cowgirl position that means that she’s both in control of what happens and completely avoids eye contact. The position reminds us of the Flint/Miranda scene, where Miranda was also on top, but their scene involved more eye contact (yes glaring counts, he’s still intensely focused on Miranda), gentle touching (on Miranda’s side) and her being naked and open to him. Another parallel is that both Flint and Rackham aren’t in the right frame of mind for sex, Flint being angry and Rackham lost in a sea of worries (and probably also somewhat angry/disappointed at Anne for forcing him into the plot to kill their crewmates). The difference between Flint and Rackham is that while Flint doesn’t seem to have any trouble performing, Rackham is miles away and doesn’t even notice that he’s lost his erection - again. Anne is frustrated by this, and apparently knows him well enough that she offers to put something up his arse, but he’s clearly not in the mood, and she leaves in a huff, abandoning him all tied up as a sort of revenge for his performance problems. Whatever the problem is between them isn’t put into words (because Anne can’t yet, for starters), unlike the one between Flint and Miranda. The intimacy between Rackham and Anne, so often described as close partners, seems much more distant to me than the one shown between Flint and Miranda. I’m not sure whether it’s because of anyone’s sexual orientation, or just the fact that they’re fucking but they’ve never discussed the big important things, such as Anne’s identity/feelings/etc.

- In this episode, Dufresne gains a lot of power: with a freshly (and badly) shaved head and a new tattoo, he’s been promoted to Quartermaster on the Walrus in Billy’s place. And very quickly he has a problem to deal with: Randall revealing that Silver stole the page. Gates had actually already told this to Dufresne, as is revealed at the end of the episode, which might explain why Dufresne is relatively calm during the whole conversation, while DeGroot wants Silver and Flint hanged and Howell is surprisingly ruthless: he brings up the idea that it may be better to kill off Randall in order to get to the treasure, if they can’t make sure he’ll keep quiet about Silver being the thief. Dufresne is actually quite kind towards Silver in the scene where he puts Silver’s memory to the test - a test that could result in his death if he fails it and that Silver constantly grumbles against (I love his grumbling!). Basically, at this point Dufresne remains quite a sympathetic character, which will change a lot as the show goes on, especially after Jannes Eiselen had to leave the show (such a sad story, RIP Jannes).

- In the meantime, the Flint and Gates relationship is crumbling. It's sad to see, especially since they're shown sharing chuckles as they talk about Dufresne's appointment in the beginning of the episode. But then Gates brings up the subject of Miranda and demands explanations about the letter Billy found. We're not shown exactly what Flint answers, but it's clear that he's actually trying his best to give him an explanation without incriminating Miranda too badly. The sad thing is that Flint is actually telling the truth: he actually wasn't involved in any betrayal of his crew and and can only guess at Miranda's motivations. But the fact that he's lied time and again in previous situations, including on the Maria Aleyne where he claimed Lord Alfred drew a weapon on him (and Gates secretly verified that this was a lie), and used men as pawns to advance his and Miranda's plans, is now catching up to him. Flint seems truly hurt when Gates accuses him of using the men for his own purposes, and turns spiteful, telling Gates that he should have been "a better father" to Billy and helped him "understand the world he was living in" (suggesting that such a forthright character as Billy can't really survive in a world of pirates who are all ready to stab each other in the back). After that slap in the face, Gates says he's exhausted from Flint and threatens to take it to the crew. Somehow, this pushes Flint to bare all: he tells Gates about his plan to keep a part of the treasure and use it to build up Nassau, depicting himself as a sort of saviour, doing it for the men's good: they'd rather be rich men in a safe place than dead thieves hanging from a noose. Gates sees this as delusions of grandeur, and tells him that while he'll see the Urca plot through, after that they're done. I actually think he sees Flint’s point, since he doesn’t just throw him to the crew, but won’t admit that out loud. The whole of this scene hurts bad, because you can tell that Flint is desperate and sad to be losing his closest ally and friend, and that Gates is hurting from the loss of Billy and exhausted from the toxic relationship he has with Flint, where he's played enabler to his manipulations for years.

- While Flint and Gates’ alliance is breaking, Silver has to forge one with Randall or die. Randall finds out in the beginning of the episode that he’s been voted out of the crew. This is apparently due to DeGroot’s fears that Randall could be a fire hazard, which the crew took disproportionately to heart. Randall is furious with Silver, who smugly tells him that in these situations, a setback often comes with a new or unexpected opportunity. He’s right, but at this point he doesn’t know that he is the opportunity Randall’s going to latch on. Randall reveals that Silver is a thief, and Silver denies it, saying that Randall is both a halfwit and was in a haze of opium when he heard what he thought he heard; he even tries to convince Randall that he was mistaken (this, my friends, is gaslighting). However, by revealing that Silver was the thief, Randall sets a chain of events into motion which could either end with his death (if Howell has his way, since Randall is an inconvenient witness) or Silver’s (if DeGroot tips the balance, not trusting Silver to remember the coordinates and not wanting to sacrifice Randall for nothing). Silver figures out that these are the outcomes, and tries to talk sense into Randall by making a deal with him: he’ll care for Randall and make sure he can stay on the ship. But it’s only when Silver finally admits that he is the thief and that Randall was right, that Randall accepts the deal. Later, Silver realises that Randall might have orchestrated the whole thing: he’s now got Silver to serve him, doesn’t have to take any risks on the ship, and gets to remain with the crew. Silver wonders if Randall is a genius rather than a halfwit (a word thrown about a lot to describe him). And it seems quite obvious, considering what happened, that Randall still has strong survival skills (an amputee with impaired cognitive skills doesn’t stand a chance of survival outside a crew and he must be aware of it), that he still has a good memory and an ability to pick out useful information and that he’s aware enough of what’s going on to be upset by the crew’s rejection and Silver’s attempt to gaslight him. I think it’s important to recognise that Randall is more than a comic relief or a grotesque character: he’s a disabled man who's lost parts of his cognitive ability and is struggling to survive.

- This episode focuses on Vane facing his past. He seeks out the island where he grew up and its master, Albinus. I’d forgotten or never really registered that Albinus was a pirate and that the men who work for him were mostly his crew - and likely slaves (or children, hence Vane?) that he managed to capture/press into service. He’s retired from pirating and set up a system where his men cut down trees for timber all day, without wages. It’s not clear exactly how he holds so much power over these men, although it seems that everyone is terrified of him. He’s extremely strong physically, seems shrewd, speaks rather well, and his tattoos suggest that maybe he’s involved in some kind of ritual (truly religious or just for show?) which would make him all the more scary to superstitious people. Vane is clearly still frightened: he barely makes eye contact and practically stutters when he first tries to make the deal with Albinus, which is that he’ll take some of Albinus’ men as crew and send Albinus part of their earnings as tribute. It says a lot about Albinus that Vane, after years of having run away, is still so scares that he’s willing to pay him a tribute. But he changes his mind as he stares at a boy bearing the same brand as he does: he tries to persuade the men that Nassau is a pace of pleasures rather than hard labour, and confronts Albinus. The fight is brutal and ends with Vane buried naked, just after Albinus tells him that he’s proud of him. But of course Vane wouldn’t be Vane if he didn’t rise from the dead at the last minute and kill Albinus, goaded on by his inner Eleanor voice.

- In the meantime, Mr Scott returns to Eleanor, apologising for what he did, telling her he betrayed her out of love. However he also reminds her of his slave status: technically, he belongs to her. The argument upsets her, and he quite cleverly uses this moment to ask her to free the slaves who were on the Andromache. And it works: by the end of the episode, she’s made arrangements for the men to work on ships and has bought the women’s freedom and found them jobs in her tavern. But Mr Scott has still decided to leave Eleanor to join Hornigold’s crew, to refrain from meddling with Eleanor’s affairs, since he disagrees with her so strongly re: the Urca. Hornigold approached him earlier in the episode, and the introduction to that scene is quite interesting: Hornigold says to Mr Scott “I’ll need to know your secret” and Mr Scott looks startled and frightened. It seems that he’s startled because he’d been giving food to the slaves, but in light of S3, it could be a much greater secret that’s being referred to. Mr Scott is relieved when he realises that Hornigold is simply talking about tolerating Eleanor, who he clearly can’t stand.

- Flint’s bad day continues, of course, with the big confrontation he has with Miranda. He’s furious about the letter (of which he now knows the contents thanks to Gates), telling her that it could have got him killed, or destroyed the plans they’d made and asking her whether she was trying to embarrass him. This sounds so weirdly petty, and yet it also sounds exactly like the kind of argument that would come up in a bickering couple. Miranda answers that she was trying to help him out of that life, because she wants to move on. This is where Miranda utters the famous “there is no life here, there is no joy here, there is no love here”. I noticed that, covered by Flint yelling at her, and distorted because her voice has gone very shrill, Miranda says another line, which sounds like “you used to love, then”. If that really is what she says, it’s extra-extra-extra heartbreaking to hear (if someone wants to check it for me, it’s around 35:40). It’s obvious that Flint and Miranda’s views on life are very different, and I can’t help but think back to the fact that, as a carpenter’s son from the country, Flint has had to struggle all his life to become who he is. So when he says that you can’t get a life without having a war, and Miranda tells him he’s wrong, she’s speaking entirely from the point of view of her privilege. She’s never needed to fight as hard as he has to be happy, because she got extremely lucky in marrying Thomas. And when she says that Thomas would agree with her, I’m certain she’s right. But life has never been like that for Flint, and there’s no way he’ll ever entirely agree with their point of view. Rewatching this scene is tough, btw, because they both have great points, they’re both hurting so much, and there’s so much to take in between the body language, the facial expressions, the tones of voice and the actual words that it’s a whole whirlwind. And it feels very, very real.

- It’s absolutely hilarious to see Rackham get robbed by the whores taking advantage of his lack of knowledge (and research). He should absolutely have done a better job and has no clue how to run a brothel. He’s lucky Max takes things in hand after having heard from Idelle that the girls were taking advantage.

- Then we have the beautiful Drunk Flint scene. Eleanor notices him feeling very sorry for himself after Gates has pretty much broken up with him and he’s still reeling from fighting with by Miranda. I think Flint feels very misunderstood here. He thought that he was doing something good, to save Nassau and avenge Thomas, and doesn’t understand why they can’t see it, why they only see the terrible methods he uses to reach his goals. So he’s full of doubt, clearly wondering if he’s the villain of the story, and puts the question to Eleanor: is their plan worth it? Eleanor is the only person who still believes in him, which leads us to the only scene that I would ever call straight-baiting. Flint hovers near Eleanor, breathing heavily, and a variety of emotions play over her face during this moment of tension, as she seems to think this is leading to a kiss. It does, he gives her a chaste little forehead kiss and leaves. All the elements are in place to make your average viewer start shipping these two. I actually find it hilarious that the ship barely exists in the fandom (though I wasn’t there in the beginning of the fandom and I guess the viewership changed a lot between S1 and S4).

- The scene with Flint and Gates glaring at each other from their respective ships and Parson’s Farewell playing in the background... epic! We know this is the beginning of a big struggle between them, especially since we find out that Gates has pretty much decided that he’ll hand Flint over to the crew once they get the money. But nnnnggh that scene! The ships leaving on their hunt! Awesome and heartbreaking!

[the-slut-verses]

sayer relisten thots, s2

this came out from 2014-2015 and it really feels like it

which is to say, reminds me of that time when wtnv was the biggest audio drama, and the gateway pod of most ppl, and u could hear a lot of its influence in other pods, and a lot of pods were recommended by comparing them to night vale, "this pod is like wtnv but x"

lol i remember getting recommended sayer and wolf 359 around that time by ppl describing them as "wtnv but in space" cuz they're both horror adjacent kinda and had an audio broadcast framing device

i dont think that's applicable to wolf, and I don't think wtnv was a direct inspiration for sayer, but there are a lot of parallels, and i think both were inspired by the twilight zones

but yeah, both of these shows have a lot of comedy segments like, the weird vaguely threatening station announcements, the recreational activities that feel like mind game traps, the absurd nonsense statements from authority figures

and also the approach to horror by taking a normal mundane thing and then making it really fucked up

the disappearing reappearing door crisis feels very wtnv to me

and also the story structure and pacing reminds me of wtnv, like how, early eps would offhandedly mention bits about the wider world, and then eps later in the season would focus directly on them

and how, the eps are generally standalone but as the season goes on, the eps start to have more direct continuity with each other and the main plot progresses

im just pointing it out cuz it makes me nostalgic for that time i was first getting into this medium

lol i first tried getting into sayer sometime in 2017, but i couldn't make it far cuz i found sayer's voice too relaxing and i kept zoning out and falling asleep. only got into it in 2020 cuz i saw good smut of it and i had became more of a monster fucker then and got more out of it

i only realize now that this season had some sort of ARG thing with the weird distorted audios in the ending of some eps, if any of y'all can explain what became of it, i'd really like to know!

on that note, there were like,,, 3 episodes that had a more obtuse style and had a subplot of a scientist and their assistant maybe?? getting into office politics drama,, i think the characters were named after patrons, like i remember a guy named caufield, i assume it's related to the ARG

i also wonder if that dirt scientist that was sabotaged and buried in his lab is related to that, sayer implies that there's a wider plot there but i couldn't tell if that ever got a follow-up

on that note, the q and a mentioned a crossover with a lovecraftian actual play pod from the same network, did that ever come up in the sayer feed? or is that the thing with the staircase of leng cult that summoned the tall man

on that note, im noticing now more that aerolith is just,,, so badly run as a company and reminds me of those tech bros that think technology can fix everything while just creating more needless problems

like, aerolith wanted better automatic doors and they ended up summoning indescribable horrors from another reality, like wow good job on that one y'all

also, assuming the one off resident characters are a representative sample size, typhon has an absurd death rate

that's just really funny to me in the wider context of the world cuz sayer keeps complaining about how expensive it is to train new recruits and ship em to typhon but when they get there, they're treated as expendable

which implies a large percentage of aerolith's budget goes to just shipping new ppl to typhon probably

i love that, when sayer has to do a human voice, it comes out sounding like dr young, and he sounds like an absolute rat of a man <3

all the sayer/young interactions are so funny with the foreknowledge of what went down in s5

idk it feels like exes that are coworkers

also i really love sayer in this cuz its delusions of being the peak of efficiency and productivity is shattered in every episode by virtue of an ep having to have at least a 20 minute run time when sayer just really needed to say 2 sentences

like that ep where it was telling a scientist that he was getting brainwiped cuz he acted like a hero and aerolith can't have that. and sayer just needed to have a 20 minute monologue about the follies of man and emotion and earth or whatever

also i love how sayer's so bitchy and defensive when ppl try to be friendly with it like

a resident could be like "hey sayer, i noticed that the board ignored your research, how do you feel about that." and sayer is all like "um actually, i'm beyond human emotions i don't get angry fuck you and fuck your species stop projecting"

[systemexploration]

I’m not sure if I’m a system or not, and I have a list of reasons going either way, one of the main reasons for not tho, is that I have a history of psychosis especially delusions and depersonalization (which I’ve brought both up to my therapist, that’ll be relevant later) and on top of those two an “excessive amount” (for lack of a better word(?)” of intrusive thoughts, and I’m not sure who to talk to about this, I’ve tried talking to my therapist and she just explained the concept of intrusive thoughts to me, and it’s not like I’m leaning one way or another (like leaning towards system or leaning towards delusions) Like literally I’m not sure, so if you have any advice I’d love to hear it, I’m running out of options

(If you don’t that cool too, I hope y’all have a good day)

well both of those other explainations could just be what you are experiencing. though you can still experience those things on top of being plural! we have depersonalization and derealization episodes plus intrusive thoughts and our core has had those problems for longer than we believe we have been a system.

if you have any examples of reason why you believe you are system id love to hear them (/nf) since the reasons you gave are just reasons you would not be. so its a bit hard to compare /npa

if you want to continue trying to figure out if you are a part of a system, try calling out to others who might be in your head! try keeping track of how you feel during the day and your memories. (all /nf)

again, psychosis and intrustive thoughts can coexist with plurality so its not one or the other! /lh

[bioodorange]

||How I See The Pastas||

© @frozensriracha, for some help with visuals!!

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy 

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop 

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most  of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong 

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did! 

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

[touchmycoat]

qijiu bingqiu (bingliushen??) fix-it fic planning blabber

so i think i gotta keep it tight on SJ’s POV. Right before his death, he makes a deal with Xin Mo (who’s kind of a lone operator bc LBH too has to fight its power) to create this alternate timeline in exchange for his cultivation. Xin Mo can open up new dimensions no problem, and with SJ’s cultivation, it even manages to rewind the timeline. That’s not enough though—Xin Mo’s goal is only consumption, so it takes the deal but reveals there’s nothing that will actually change. The price SJ paid only opened the door.

But that’s fine, ‘cause SJ saw it coming. He also strikes another deal, this time with Death itself? Some sort of large cosmic force. The only thing he wants changed is Qi-ge’s death, and in exchange...the universe takes him. SJ will not get to exist in that second universe. SJ takes the deal.

And that’s the start of canon. SJ-as-SQQ can no longer exist. Instead, SY-as-SQQ is brought in. In order to stay cohered though, YQY’s memories and personality get a little glitched—he is physically incapable of recognizing all the ways SQQ is now not SJ. That’s why, despite SY-as-SQQ clearly being OOC, YQY never seems to see it.

Canon happens, now we’re in the post-canon world where bingqiu are married and settling down, but SQQ still kicks it with his buddies LQG and YQY every now and then. YQY still firmly believes SQQ is SJ, to SY’s increasing consternation. Is it just delusions and wishful thinking? The more YQY treats him as SJ though, the worse SY feels—he shouldn’t be stealing all this affection that doesn’t belong to him.

It all comes to head when SQQ overhears public opinion on YQY, how he’s perfect in everything but his crazy devotion to SQQ. SY thinks enough is enough. He can’t bring SJ back but he sure can tell YQY that his Xiao Jiu is dead, right? The System warns him he’ll be punished but that’s fine, it’s just not fair, SQQ can take another little mental horror trip down to BinggeLand if it means YQY can have some closure.

Except that’s not what happens. He gets YQY in private and says, “no, you don’t understand, Shen Jiu is dead.” He sees the recognition in YQY’s eyes, but he also sees the moment that recognition gets wiped. The sad smile that had fallen off of YQY’s face returns, eerily happy, as YQY says, “my apologies, Qingqiu-shidi, I must have spaced out just now, what did you say?”

Right before the System kicks him into another punishment phase, SY tries again: “Shen Jiu is dead!” He sees the recognition disappear once again from YQY’s eyes.

Inside the punishment world, Bingge has him again. “I’ve been searching for an answer to why the sniveling pathetic version of me gets you as his Shizun, and I think I figured it out.” For a moment, SY’s horrified by the possibility that Bingge has figured out his transmigrator status—if his punishment figures it out, would he be trapped inside the punishment forever? But instead, Bingge says, “Liu Qingge is still alive, meaning Shizun didn’t kill him in the spirit caves. Did his survival render such a dramatic change?” SQQ”s like “yup, yup that’s definitely it. We’re such good friends, he really changed my outlook on life, so I treated you better, mhm.”

“Shizun’s very clever then to save his own life this way. Xin Mo’s already told me about your little bargain.”

That’s how SY learns that SJ had made a deal. Holy shit, he’d thought it was just random phenomenon this whole time, but the original goods had made it all possible? He didn’t know whether to thank SJ or curse him.

But that can’t be the whole story—Xin Mo opened up a timeline, that doesn’t explain why SY is here. Bingge doesn’t know this part, but it sure feels like SJ made a second deal, paying with his life.

What would motivate the original goods to do all this? Sacrifice his hard-won cultivation and his entire existence in this last-ditch effort?

The memory of YQY’s glitching came to mind.

Holy shit. SY owns the two of them more than he’d ever thought.

After the punishment, SY goes back home. He’s with Binghe, and LBH can tell there’s something troubling him.

“Binghe, there’s something this husband wants to do, and I need your help to do it.”

“Shizun, anything.”

“...But there’s a risk it might hurt you. There’s a risk it might ruin everything. It might be straight-forward, but it also might not be. It’s safer for all of us—but especially you, Binghe—if I just let things be.”

“But it’s not something that Shizun can just let be, is it? Otherwise Shizun wouldn’t have said anything. Binghe is honored to help. Anything to ease Shizun’s mind.”

“...I promised I wouldn’t let you come to harm again, and I meant that. Whatever happens, remember that I am your husband, this is my call, and you must do whatever you need to do to protect yourself, okay? Swear to me, Binghe.”

SQQ begins figuring out how to use Xin Mo to go fetch SJ from the other timeline. He figures that if Bingge could exist in this dimension without destroying the space-time continuum, the same ought to be true for SJ. Only trouble is, he can only go get SJ after SJ’s made the deals, because otherwise it’s a paradox, and he wouldn’t exist.

So SQQ brings home limbless, post-torture!SJ. That’s where the fic starts.

By all accounts, the deals are squared: SJ no longer has cultivation and SJ died in SY’s dimension, so SY successfully exists. SJ and SY can exist in the same space totally fine, and SJ begins healing.

(Currently, the fic is completely from SJ’s POV, and very much about coming to terms with being saved and what the hell is going on in this better world.)

The trouble is, SY doesn’t know what’s going to happen when SJ meets YQY again. SJ very thoroughly declines the offer to go see YQY because part of SJ still believes this whole thing is a trick, and if he goes to see YQY he’ll ruin his end of the bargain and YQY will die again. For SY’s part, he’s afraid of SJ going to see YQY too for similar but opposite reasons—if SJ going to see YQY ruins SJ’s end of the bargain, then wouldn’t that mean SY can no longer exist? Would SY just disappear from this universe?

So we get ragtag group therapy fun times. SJ thinks this is probably all an illusion Xin Mo is tricking him with, so treats everything with scorn but also existential apathy. This actually works to his benefit because he’s not clinging to things as hard, and it’s easier for him to admit, for example, that he was definitely in the wrong for abusing LBH, and yeah he was being a spiteful bitch when he did not need to be.

SY tries to keep LBH away from SJ mostly, because c’mon, he’s not about to make his darling husband face his childhood abuser. He does explain the situation to LBH though, in the same terms that Bingge had (mis)understood it lmfao—that the act of saving LQG’s life had prompted an entire 180 on his personality so he came out of the spirit caves a better man. LBH’s jealous as fuck of course, but damn if that doesn’t explain some things. Given the opportunity to see his old and new Shizun side-by-side, LBH takes it, and really gets a moment to see how horribly he’s been treated by SQQ.

So it actually prompts some therapy between SY and LBH too. LBH used to figure that getting pushed into the Abyss was squared by SQQ sacrificing himself to save him. But ofc it turned out SQQ came back and kept on, in his perspective, trying to get away from him. Trying to leave him behind. SQQ’s tried to treat his abandonment issues by going “okay sorry about that I’ll never leave you behind again” but he’s never really explained it.

SJ’s presence gives Binghe the ability to ask the question again and gives SY an answer: shame and cowardice. They’re able to put SJ’s mistreatment of Binghe right in front of them and SY-as-SQQ gets to explain how much it hurt to look back on that bit of their past, but also how much he feared LBH's retaliation. LBH is a little hurt, but also he remembers how he’d raped SQQ under Xin Mo’s control and, looking at what’s left of SJ now, he sees his own darkest possibilities. He really did destroy the man he loves now in another timeline. That helps him contextualize SY’s fears and why SY chose to push him off the cliff.

LQG crashlands into the middle of this whole party as is his wont. He gets a little fix-it too maybe. SY very staunchly repeats the reason for his personality swap—saving LQG in that cave made him a Better Person™. Meeting the original goods again, LQG is forced to believe it. Or like, it doesn’t really matter to him either way, but now he really does see pre-cave SQQ and post-cave SQQ as two completely different people.

SJ though, has to swallow this really weird pill. He remembers trying to save LQG inside the cave but failing, and then getting blamed for LQG’s death. If he’d succeeded, he and LQG would’ve become...this close?? A life debt between them would’ve changed his outlook on life so much???

Well whatever. Now that he’s put down all his old posturing, he more readily gives his reasons for why LQG gets on his nerves so much: the insufferable confidence (arrogant prick), the skills to back it up (privileged bastard), and a flawless cultivator family with all the money and the training and the pedigree. (Meanwhile SY’s like “oh shit that’s me too hahahahah awkward, good thing he still thinks i’m him so he doesn’t just murder me immediately.)

LQG’s a little weirded out too. SY-as-SQQ is his favorite person in the world, so it’s hard to get angry at SJ-as-SQQ since they’re “the same person.” He’s more willing to talk all this out with SJ and brings up all their old beef on his side too: high-handed snootiness coupled with underhanded dick moves, also the whole sleeping-with-prostitutes thing hurting Cang Qiong’s reputation. Ofc they’re snapping at each other this whole time. “There’s no reason for you to do all that!”

SY intervenes if needed. “Actually there is.” Considering the fact that SJ gets indicted for so many things that actually turn out to be not his fault, SY figures he’ll just get it out there. “Remember Qiu Haitang’s accusations against me? I grew up a slave in that household. I grew up believing it was kill or be killed—it doesn’t make sabotaging others right, but...that’s why the Spirit Caves made such an impression on me. I learned it wasn’t just kill or be killed, I can also save people. It opened my eyes to everything I already had, and everything I should be grateful for.”

This is for both LQG and SJ. And it works, to some degree. SJ knows he managed to claw to the top of privilege, but he still felt horribly insecure there. That’s because, he realizes, he never got the thing that would actually grant him security. It's not power or money or reputation—it’s Qi-ge. Holy hell he misses Qi-ge. In anger and betrayal, he’d pushed YQY continuously out of his life, but when faced with certain death the only regret he actually had was bringing Qi-ge down with him. YQY was meant to have survived, and in this world, he did.

So now, after all that, SJ really, really wants to go see his Qi-ge. It’s nice to have survived (and gotten part of his power back—at the very beginning, SY gives one of SQQ’s eyes to SJ as a bit of his golden core in order to save SJ’s life), but it’s so damn hard to live on in this world knowing YQY is only so far away, still very deeply attached to Xiao Jiu.

They try to Cyrano it at first. SY-as-SQQ goes to YQY with SJ’s voice in his ear, telling SY how to treat YQY as him. YQY is so fucking touched and hopeful, and SY is damn uncomfortable. He goes running back to SJ and says it’s not going to work—it’s not going to work because he’s no longer Qi-ge’s Xiao Jiu. He’s Luo Binghe’s husband, okay? He can’t go back to YQY as SJ.

SJ’s fucking furious at first (what kind of shitty variation of himself saves LQG’s life and then falls out of love with Qi-ge???? bitch?????) but what can he do? LQG tells them YQY’s on his way here and SJ hides for now. They still don’t know what will happen if SJ meets YQY, so SY continues to front as SJ for now.

But during this conversation, something changes. Maybe YQY says something, but SJ realizes he’s actually a little willing to take this chance. If Qi-ge does disappear—easy, he’d just kill himself right after. He’d already experienced Qi-ge’s death twice before, and at least this time, he can follow, knowing he’s at least reconciled with Qi-ge through SY.

And if he disappears on his own, then at least he knows there’s a world in which Qi-ge does not die horribly. That’s enough for him.

That, however, leaves the very last possibility—that SY will disappear. At this point both LQG and LBH have figured this out, and are very, very reluctant to let this be the scenario. They don’t see it as two people, they see it as their version of SQQ vs. YQY’s version of SQQ.

So there’s a little tension, but in the end, SY gets the final choice. As soon as he learns SJ is willing to go see YQY, he chooses that path. He simply owes qijiu too much to deny them the possibility of reconciliation. So despite knowing he might disappear from Binghe and LQG’s life, he makes it happen.

(They should get a very painful goodbye scene.)

SY goes out to explain things. “Zhangmen-shixiong may have noticed my change since my qi deviation and the spirit caves.” “I’m happy Xiao Jiu has a brighter outlook on life.” “Yes, but I think Qi-ge, of all people, might actually prefer how I was before, right?” “If Xiao Jiu’s happy, I’m happy.” “Yes, but Shen Jiu wants you. Is that alright?” “—of course. I want Xiao Jiu too—”

SJ comes out. Everyone holds their breath.

Scene cut.

It’s said that Cang Qiong’s Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan disappeared suddenly one afternoon...

But jk, YQY just ran away with SJ, they’re recuperating in the mountains and everybody’s fine and it’s a happy ending.

[darling-i-read-it]

Releves

1x12

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems 

Author’s Note: Me being angry at hannibal despite it conflicting with my plans for this series are something else 

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine. 

Official Episode Summary : The BAU team finds evidence linking Abigail to the Minnesota Shrike victims; Will checks Abigail out of the hospital; Hannibal convinces Jack that Will is capable of murder.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​

(not my gif) 

You woke up and Will was gone. You must have fallen asleep on the chair beside his bed. You started to panic which had become a much too familiar feeling. You got up and started to walk around. You thought about asking a doctor or something but didn’t want to worry anyone but yourself just in case it was nothing. You walked through the halls, peeking in rooms for your boyfriend who slept walked more often than not these days. You got to the room of the girl who had been under your bed and Will was inside. 

“Will?” you whispered. He turned around.

“Hi. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Dont’ worry about it.” You glanced at her. She looked so much better than you had seen her last considering. 

“I don’t think we’ve met properly,” she said. “Georgia.”

“Y/N.” 

“I’m sorry, I heard I kinda crashed under your bed.” You shook your head and laughed.

“No worries there.” You turned to Will. “You should come back to your room.” He turned to Georgia sarcastically.

“Helicopter girlfriend,” he teased.

“Yeah I wouldn’t have to be if you slept through the night,” you confessed. Georgia laughed and you grabbed Will’s pole that he was holding. He nodded and waved goodbye to her before following you out the door.

You walked out of the room and he turned to you.

“She said they would never figure out what’s wrong with me,” he whispered.

“She’s not a doctor.” He glanced at you and then the ground as he shuffled along.

“You’re optimistic.”

“I gotta me. You’re pessimistic,” you whispered teasingly as you made it back to his room. He nodded.

“So you think they’ll figure it out?” You shook your head softly.

“I hope they do. But honestly, I think you’re too complicated for them.”

-

Will woke up later to a light conversation. You were sitting on the bed and Hannibal stood at the edge of it. 

“Well it is complicated,” Hannibal was saying quietly.

“What’s complicated?” Will asked. You looked over at him and smiled comfortingly.

“Nothing.” 

“You keeping secrets now?” Will teased, sitting up.

“We were talking about how to make this soup. Y/N said she couldn’t quite cook and I was sharing the recipe,” Hannibal explained.

“He’s brought food,” you said happily.

“Smells delicious.”

“Silkie chicken in a broth. A black boned bird prized in China for its medicinal value since the 7th century. With wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates and star anise,” Hannibal explained.

“You made me chicken soup,” Will said and Hannibal offered a supportive smile. 

“Y/N says you’ve been wandering.” 

“I was awake. And wandering with purpose and good intentions,” he promised. You nodded.

“Just visiting around,” you promised. 

“Visiting that unfortunate young woman suffering from delusions?”

“She’s my support group,” he joked. You hit him gently. “You are also my support group. Relax.” Will got out of bed and sat down at the table while the three of you ate the broth together. “Could all of the things have been the fever Hannibal? Like the hallucinations or the sleepwalking, the loss of time,” Will asked as he sat down.

“It’s possible.”

“What else is possible?” you asked.

“Fevers can be symptoms of dementia. Dementia can be a symptom of many things happening in your body or mind that can no longer be ignored,” Hannibal said. 

“Does Jack know?”

“That this could be a fever? No I haven’t told him,” Hannibal said.

“He wouldn’t do anything about it either,” you muttered bitterly. 

“But shouldn’t you?” Will asked. 

“I believe Y/N may be right. Additionally we don’t know for certain.” 

-

Will walked with you into the room of Georgia who you felt as though you had just spoken to. Her charred body laid across the burn tank. 

“Hospital speculates a short circuit could have ignited the fire,” Jack muttered. 

“Unit looks well maintained. No exposed wiring,” Price said.

“Don’t know if she suffocated or burned to death. We’ll look for soot in the lining of her airways,” Zeller commented. Will lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hand almost protectively on your arm.

“Horrible way to die,” he whispered. 

-

Will woke up with a start and it woke you up. It was odd not to be laying beside him but you were sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. He breathed heavily.

“Do you need something?” you whispered. Will grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bed. He wasn’t sweating and didnt’ feel hot. You wrapped your arms around him and he put his head on your chest.

“Sleep here,” he whispered. You nodded

-

The next day you walked into Abigail's room. It was the first time you had been away from Will since he had been admitted to the hospital. Hannibal had urged you to leave but not come back to work just yet although you would be back the next day.

She looked up and let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you were Freddie,” she muttered. 

“Or Alana who is also watching you like a hawk?” you asked. She nodded. She knew you knew and that was a good thing when it came down to it. She didn't feel like she had to hide with you.

“Just anybody else,” she murmured. You walked inside and sat at the window sill with her.

“How have you been?”

“Do you know that Hannibal is in love with you and Will?” she asked. You choked on the air at the change of subject. She was a teenager. But still. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I thought it was weird when I noticed. I wanted to know if you had noticed,” she said. You shook your head.

“Will, Hannibal and I are close friends,” you said lightly.

“But you and Will are dating,” she suggested.

“Yeah so?”

“Hannibal loves the two of you as a unit I think,” she said. “I told him I thought of all of you as a weird parental group and he got oddly happy.” 

“Abigail-”

“It’s just an observation,” she whispered. “I’m fine.” You laughed at the change of tone.

“Good to hear.”

-

When you got back to the hospital Will was gone. You were notebally pissed. You walked right into the building where he worked and up to Jack Crawford's office. You could hear Will’s voice from down the hall. 

You opened the door aggressively and they both turned around. 

“Did you do this?” you asked at Jack.

“He checked himself out. I told him to go back,” he said honestly. You walked up to Will and put your hand on his forehead. Still warm but not boiling like he had been. 

“Why did you-”

“Jack thinks she killed herself. I think it’s the copy cat of Garret Jacob Hobbs.” You blinked twice. Even for Will, that was a stretch. But you trusted his instinct more than your own.

“And you can wait to catch them. It’s been this long,” you said, removing your hand. He shook his head. 

“I have to do it now. I’m thinking clearer, I’m finally thinking clearly.” His eyes pleaded but they still looked undescribingly broken. You glanced at Jack who clearly didn’t believe Will at all. “Jack also thinks Abigail had something to do with the murders.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not explaining this to you. You don't’ work for me,” Jack said.

“Neither does Will! He’s not on a payroll is he?” you asked. Jack let out a sigh.

“Will go talk to Hannibal,” Jack said simply.

“Finally something I can agree on,” you murmured.

-

Will ran up to you. It had been a few days since he released himself from the hospital and you were still annoyed about it. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow as he came out of the office of Hannibal's place. 

“The copycat,” he said. You nodded, curious to hear what he had to say. He rarely talked to you about any kind of stuff with his work. “Was planning to frame me for the murder of the doctor.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to do it. I was there,” you said.

“But you’re unreliable,” he said.

“Excuse me?” He shook his head.

“You’re my girlfriend. You would have been accused of lying,” he said. You shook your head.

“I am very reliable. Why are you telling me this?” He shrugged.

“You need to know.” 

-

First day back at work. This was a mistake.

You ran your hand over your head and Jack Crawford walked in. He thought about asking you what he was about to ask Hannibal but decided against it. 

“You don’t have an appointment,” you said bitterly.

He opened the door anyway. You were still working when Hannibal and Jack opened the door quickly. Hannibal looked at you and you thought about what Abigail had said. That he was in love with you and Will. You pushed it aside when you saw the pity in his eyes.

“Where’s Will?” he asked.

“At home. Hopefully. Why?”

“Will Graham is at Garett Jacob Hobbs house with Abigail,” Jack said. You scoffed.

“You on something?” 

“Where was Will on the night of Marrisa Schuur’s murder? ‘

“Again, at home presumably.” Hannibal stared at you. Hard. “What?” 

“Will dissociates into other personalities. Whose personality is it?” Jack asked. “Will got close enough to Hobbs to think he was him.” 

You scoffed again.

“Sorry, what the hell is your point?”

“Will is going to kill Abigail. And he killed the girls before,” Hannibal said. You stared in Hannibal’s eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Hannibal you know him! He trusts you to know him,” you seethed, standing up from anger and audacity. You pointed a hard finger at him. “Will Graham didn’t kill anyone he didn't’ have to.”

“The evidence suggests-” Jack started

“Hey Jack, I don’t really care what you’re about to say and so if you say it I’ll have to hit you or Hannibal or something.”

“I’m going to get Abigail,” Hannibal said. Jack walked out of the room but your gaze stayed steady on Hannibal’s. 

“You don’t think he did this,” you said. 

“A statement and not a question?” You shook your head.

“He didn’t do this.”

1x13

[fitzefitcher]

honestly i've been seeing bastion as like a Buddhist-ish place with ancient greek aesthetics, bc letting go of your earthly attachments to be enlightened is pretty Buddhist. 'If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill the Buddha. If you meet your father, kill your father.', that kind of thing. i haven't thought of it as a Light place at all, though i can see why others do.

so there's. a lot of things I would like to cover in answering this, and I'm honestly dreading it a little lmao buuuuut I will do the best I can. I have a lot of thoughts about Bastion, and about the Light, so I'm going to take this as an opportunity to explore that. so: content warning for discussion of religion and religious trauma, esp in regards to identity erasure.

full disclosure: I'm an american queer that was raised roman catholic (specifically, roman catholic within the confines of a heavily irish-italian community) and currently identify more as like. an agnostic apostate, would be the closest thing to describe it, I think. generally, while I'm not really crazy about organized religion as a massive institution capable of doing absolutely wretched things to the people it alleges to helping (and by no means am suffering under the delusion that it hasn't and won't continue to do these things so long as oppressive systems of power are in place, just like it would be in any other area, not just religion), I also acknowledge that there's a lot of good in it, too, and it's the cornerstone of many people's community, culture, and identity. ultimately, my opinion is that religion is a tool, and whoever's holding that tool decides its purpose and intention. it's. a complicated matter lmao.

I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert on buddhism, here. obviously this was not the religion (or any of the many cultures its beliefs are centered in) I was raised as, and honestly even the research I've done for this feels like it's barely scratching the surface. so, rather than try and argue or explain something that is really out of the realm of what I'm familiar with or have experience with (esp. something that's not really mine to claim), I will try and explain things from my own experience as a queer AFAB person raised as roman catholic. and speaking from that perspective, it is very incredibly obvious to me how much of bastion was lifted from christian theology. not just the aesthetics of it, all of the weird identity conformity shit, too. the way that kyrian ideology is being used here, is as a tool to enforce this conformity.

same with how the Light as a concept has been developed in recent years- there are no longer any significant differences between the way individual factions use and interact with the light, even though as cultures their views on it should be radically different, or at least different enough that they don't feel like homogenized versions of each other. like, there's no real difference between how the humans view the Light, and how dwarves view the light, and how gnomes view the Light, and it doesn't really feel like there ever was. Nelves' view on it used to be characterized pretty strongly and differently, as did trolls and draenei, but the longer the years go on, the more that they sort of blend together. to get back to your statement, "I haven't thought of it as a Light place at all," I find that very difficult to parse as a statement, as Bastion as a whole has been developed from base concepts of the Light. Like, Kyrians were designed from spirit healers, spirit healers are now confirmed to be Kyrians (for some reason), and all of the aesthetics of their magic, their clothing, their environment are all heavily priest, paladin, and light-inspired. everything is golds and marbles and sky blues, when they become "corrupted," they suddenly become shadow-themed, like all greys and blacks and purples, their wings turn black, etc. but the similarities, and all their short-comings, go much farther than that.

so the general story thread of each area of the shadowlands in this expansion is that things aren't as they seem, right? that their individual systems are beginning to fall to internal corruption and are crumbling under their own weight. and we see this in each of the trailers- the houses of maldraxxus are starting to eat each other, ardenweald is slowly starving to death, revendreth's citizens are being choked with heavy demands from the aristocracy, and bastion is struggling to adjust in the face of new, unprecedented problems, unwilling to change their ways, even when it's explicitly obvious how badly they need to change. like, I've talked about this a little bit before- the trailer and the way it's structured led me to believe that we, the players, are meant to be hanging out with Devos and Uther, trying to help them convince Devos' boss that very obvious bad thing that's happening, is happening. And this is about how it goes for the other trailers- we learn about the betrayal of Draka's house in maldraxxus, and the maldraxxus storyline is centered on helping her figure out what happened and pick up the pieces. We learn about Ardenweald's rapidly shrinking resources and dying environment, and the ardenweald storyline is centered on figuring out what the cause of this famine is. We learn about Revendreth's aristocracy and how they're demanding more and more of the common people, and the revendreth storyline is centered on overthrowing the increasingly tyrannical cruelty of their current leaders and helping the common people, with the help of a leader favored by the common people. And I feel like, given the state of things, and how the IRL world as a whole has been going the past couple years, helping Devos and Uther get to the bottom of this, maybe even helping Bastion adjust and change in the face of these new challenges, would have been a very good, insightful storyline, and very appropriate for the times we're in.

This, clearly, is not what happened lmao. Whether or not they'll decide to develop bastion further, at least in terms of addressing its failings with its own people, is up for debate, but based on WoW's previous history of similar stories, I'm not very confident lmao.

so I will touch on that statement of bastion being a "buddhist-like place" for a moment, I did look into buddhism a bit, and while I very quickly realized that there wasn't really a way that I could discuss this at length in a way that's fair (esp. with how many variations and cultures there are centered around it, again, I am not an expert, I am doing the best I can with the information I have), the very very bare bones basics of buddhism that I can find more or less boil down to, yes, letting go of earthly attachments to attain enlightenment. but this is not really a nuanced assessment of buddhism, and tbh, isn't really the goal of the kyrians' purification rituals. sure, at first glance, it seems to line up- shedding the burdens of their mortal lives in order to achieve ascension- but ascension here, is not enlightenment. buddhist enlightenment, from what I can find, seems to be the act of breaking free from the cycle of death and rebirth and from mortal suffering. kyrian ascension is the act of, not breaking free of that cycle, but tying yourself to it for an eternity of service. and living your life (even  an eternal one- especially an eternal one) in the service of others is a really strongly christian concept. and the kyrian's concept of virtues only strengthens this. the fact that kyrians have virtues at all is heavily christian-coded, and on top of that, the virtues they have feel like they've been lifted directly from christian beliefs. also like. they're literal fucking angels, trying to earn their wings. like. there's not much else I can think of that's that heavy-handed lmao.

let's talk more about those virtues, though.

the kyrian virtues are as follows: purity, humility, courage, wisdom, and loyalty. There are a number of variations on christian virtues, but here are two of the main sets: one set lines up as the ideological opposite to the seven capital sins (or seven deadly sins if you're an FMA fan lmao), and the other is more-or-less what is accepted in contemporary belief. This is what I was taught in sunday school/CCD, so this is what I'm a little more familiar with.

so set 1, the heavenly virtues, are: chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility, and set 2, the contemporary virtues, are split further into 2 groups: the cardinal virtues, prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance, and the theological virtues, charity, hope, and faith.

So humility, courage, and wisdom, are pretty straight-forward in terms of what they represent, and line up pretty neatly with humility (lol) from the heavenly virtues, and fortitude and prudence from the contemporary virtues. To touch on those briefly, humility is exactly what it says on the tin, and acts as an ideological opposite to the capital sin of pride, fortitude is bravery and endurance as well as patience, and prudence is reason and self-discipline, esp in terms of handling yourself and how you interact with others. And these are perfectly fine as principles. the ones that set off alarm bells for me, though, are loyalty and purity.

as kyrian virtues, they don't really line up to any christian virtues from either set. but tbh, this is beside the point- the fact that purity and loyalty are considered virtues, at all, especially in combination with each other, at best feel very suspicious, and at worst openly hostile. and the way this is covered in game only enforces this. purity is only obtained by sloughing off pieces of yourself that the kyrians consider obstructive to your ascension and how you can serve the Purpose, and questioning this or any other aspect of their ascension ritual gets you sent to the temple of loyalty to, ostensibly, stay there until you Get Your Priorities Straightened Out lmao. Like, there's no exploration of why these purity rituals are being questioned to begin with, there's no examination of why the rituals are necessary to begin with, and seemingly, prospective kyrians are punished for even asking. like, for a faction that seemingly prides itself on helping their members becoming their best selves, it feels strange that the reaction to their unsure members is punitive instead of therapeutic.

at this point, the link between the kyrians' beliefs and christianity should be readily apparent. it's no secret that over the centuries, christianity has used as a tool for oppressive systems to dominate marginalized groups, both within its ingroup and without. "purity" in christianity is less a virtue and more a heavily enforced, wildly contradictory idea, hiding itself in mealy-mouthed platitudes about being a Good Person or Becoming Your Best Self while simultaneously, stringently punishing its own members for daring to step a toe out of an extremely arbitrary line. like, I remember going to church growing up, and in the same breath that the head priest said to pray for various members of the community (thoughts and prayers, lmao), pray for [insert local sports team here] to win for their upcoming game, he also said that yes, democrats are corrupting the country. yes, homosexuals are going to hell. mass was an exercise in enduring misery most of the time, and a big reason I stayed closeted from my family for the majority of my life is because of this, and I still am, in many ways. I still have to divvy myself up in bits and pieces to become Socially Acceptable enough to appease my extended family, and there are certain family members that I will go to my grave never having come out to them, because I know they will never accept me for who I am, truly. so to have purity be a kyrian virtue with no further examination, no trace of irony, and to have loyalty as a virtue to back it up, feels, at best, extremely tone-deaf.

when you quest alongside kleia and pelagos, you see these purity rituals, and you see how large a toll they take on them. you see pelagos struggle, and you as the player help him overcome the difficulties he faces- difficulties he could not overcome himself. you see kleia, over time, becoming more and more disgruntled with bastion's governing body as a whole, and finding more and more cracks in the kyrians' concept of purity. but no lessons are learned, from either of these. nothing is examined further, and I have doubts that it ever will.

you, the player, see other kyrians, who previously were orcs, tauren, trolls, draenei, all these non-humans, being stripped of their identity, ostensibly for the reason that it will make them more just and fair a judge, a concept that rapidly falls apart the longer you look at it. the idea of all these sentient creatures from all these walks of life, particularly the ones heavily coded as BIPOC, are to be stripped of their cultural identity and made into Homogenous Standard (white-coded) Blue Human is so intrinsically malicious that it is genuinely baffling that it was even seriously considered as an idea, let alone greenlit and put into the game. prospective mortals are scouted to be kyrians theoretically for the lives they lived in service of others, in justice and kindness and wisdom, and then they are made to give up more and more pieces of those lives, rendering whatever they've learned, whatever experiences they've gained, that made them this person that the kyrians sought out in the first place, an utterly pointless and redundant endeavor. things like kindness, wisdom, courage, are not inherent qualities. They are things that have to be learned. They are things in which the context of them is paramount to how they will be measured. So to say that it is Necessary to do this, to make them Fairer, to make them More Just, feels both stunningly nonsensical and just pointlessly, nihilistically mean.

so what does this have to do with the Light?

well, in recent years, it seems to be steering more and more towards the idea that only correct religion within WoW is the Light, and there's only One Way to be Light. Early on in WoW's development, it was established that yeah, shadow has a bit of a reputation and can certainly be misused, but nobody's arguing that the Light can be misused, too, and that neither shadow nor light are inherently good nor inherently evil- they just Are, and each serve their own purpose in this world and its way of things. I had written a post about this like. several years ago, and a lot of it hasn't aged very well (I will not link to it bc woof, it was Pretty Rough to look at again after seven years lmao), but the gist of it was that Light and Shadow, are less like good and evil, and more like the Force from star wars. Well, a more nuanced force- again, Light is not Strictly Good, Shadow is not Strictly Evil. They are merely opposite sides of the same spectrum, but they are not inherently antithetical to each other. It was less a religion/belief system with an established deity, and more just reverence for the universe and its workings as a whole. Yes, it has the markers and drapings of christianity, particularly in its aesthetics, but the actual belief system didn't really lift anything from any particular christian belief system, and didn't really match up to any one of them, besides, again, the aesthetic of it. The Light now, however- now it does have a lot in common with christian beliefs. or at least, it and the church of the light have a lot in common with the mentality of those with strong christian beliefs. Which is to say, again, there is only one Correct Religion, and it's Light, and there's only One Correct Way to be Light. other religions within wow are either condemned, painted as savage, violent, heretical, or watered down so much that they either don't matter or function as mere Extensions to the light.

last summer, when I was reading the "before the storm" novel as research for my sylvanas essay, one of the many, many things that made it a difficult read was how like. unintentionally, thoughtlessly intolerant Golden had written it. Anduin, one of the main characters in it, despite having a history of kindness, compassion, curiosity, and understanding, is kind of shunted into being a 1-dimensional Good Christian Boy(tm). Like, he struggles with interacting with the forsaken, despite them having been in existence for over a decade at this point, and more than half his lifetime, and despite having dealt with them before, and orcs, and tauren, and a great number of other non-human creatures, while still treating them with grace and dignity, and respecting their perspectives, experiences, and beliefs. like, he's painted as thinking that the netherlight temple would be an alliance-only, church of the holy light only affair, and is really surprised, even stunned, at the thought of having to interact with non-alliance, non-light priests. and something that really really stuck with me while reading this, was that Anduin, this compassionate, intelligent, understanding person, could only learn to interact with priests of other factions and species, despite having already done this before, many, many times in his life, on the basis that They, Too, Are Servants Of The Light. and there's just. no examination in this. no irony. Light is Right, Others are Not. No lessons were learned.