#but in the other hand I don’t want to see views like this go unchallenged

[dreamings-free]

I think the problem some are having is that Maya said Liam encouraged her to write the book and said they’re friendly. And now says the book is about him and it’s about abuse so that’s seems like a big switch

of course the book is based on her own story that has been clear all along..?

and yes maybe for whatever reason - be it legal matters or because she simply wasn't ready to explicitly confirm that (and I can imagine why, look at how people are jumping her throat now!) she’s saying it now. and everything she said then and now can be true at the same time.

also Maya is allowed to tell her story, all victims are allowed to tell their stories of their abuse and name their abuser in whatever way and at whatever time they are comfortable with. just as victims are allowed to not tell especially if it can cause them further harm, be it legally, emotionally or psychically. and that doesn't suddenly not apply just because the abuser is someone's favourite popstar.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

False dawn

"I'm glad I'm not your therapist," says Maria.

Martin laughs, but doesn't really think the remark is funny. It's the sort of blunt joke his mother would make, when she was the only one who could cut through the thick crust of dysfunction in the household and find the laughing, kicking, squirming child beneath.

He is sitting in an armchair in his father's study, and his father -- his father, Cecil, the creator of the multiverse, executive director of Sphere, the mental health hotline -- is seated across from him. Cecil's shoulders are slumped, but he's sitting ramrod straight in the dimly-lit office. Martin thinks it's probably the only thing that could make Cecil sit up straight: the specter of the disastrous public events he's scheduled to speak at over the next two weeks, when he'll need to convince millions of people to let Sphere's skyhook rest unchallenged.

It isn't true to say that Cecil treats the hotline like his child. But he treats it like one of his children. The others have been Margaret, June, Jim. Sometimes Cecil even treats Maria like one of his children, but only if Martin is around and knows that Cecil doesn't mean it.

Everywhere Martin goes, everywhere he looks, he sees paths not taken. He finds himself bouncing back and forth between glimpses into alien futures. Sometimes, more than half the time, the sight of these futures breaks him up into little shivers, and he doesn't know if he wants to follow the paths, or find out how they were created, or whether he'll ever be able to return, and --

No. No, this isn't the time or place for any of that.

"Did you really never go to your own therapist?" Maria has asked.

"It was complicated," Martin says.

"Oh?"

Martin nods.

"I don't want to go into the details, but my situation wasn't . . . atypical, you know? I had to do a lot of the talking, and the therapist got very little out of it, and neither of us were happy about it. And, well, my father is the creator of the multiverse. And he's the head of the multiverse's only mental health hotline. And thus my dad is my therapist, in the most literal sense of the term."

Maria laughs.

"Has it always been this way?" she asks.

"My dad has always been my dad. He's the most knowledgeable person in the world, but I'm not a great pupil."

"I mean . . . with the hotline?"

"The hotline has always been there," Martin says, his voice growing colder.

Maria looks away. Martin doesn't expect her to press the question any further. She knows as well as anyone that it's not something you discuss with the Martin Sylvesters of the world. He doesn't know what she thinks about all this. She has a twinkle in her eye sometimes, but Martin doesn't know if he's imagining the twinkle, or if she thinks he's an idiot, or if she's growing impatient with him, or what.

"There's something you want to tell me," Martin says.

"Because it won't come out any other way? Because you won't tell me, and I know you, and I know you won't, and yet I won't be able to stop myself from asking?"

Maria leans forward. Martin recoils slightly. Her lips curl into a slight smile.

"Martin, you're absolutely right about me. I just wanted to make sure you knew."

Martin's lips curl into a smile.

"Am I still an idiot?"

"That's a rhetorical question, surely?"

Martin laughs, as the wall behind Cecil's desk stretches into view. He's in an alien future now, which isn't wholly alien, and he isn't wholly Martin. He knows it's an alien future, but it's so familiar in every detail, in every brushstroke, it feels like a portrait of Martin's real, current life, painted by a seer.

The wall that was originally behind Cecil's desk now, in this future, has been moved to a different part of the office. Martin stares at it in confusion.

"What's . . . ?" he begins, as Cecil appears from behind the wall, grabbing his head in his hands, and looking directly at Martin with eyes that are more desperate, more pleading, than Martin has ever seen them.

". . . are you Martin?"

(Chapter 8, part 2, The Northern Caves)

[raewritez]

Still | Pt. 2

continuation of this request: I’m thirsty for a love triangle. Maybe Sokka and Zuko fighting for the reader’s affection. And she chooses ____!

warnings: simping, jealousy, obliviousness, she/her pronouns

Sokka’s ending

Zuko felt guilty.

The Water Tribe boy had been sulking for days now, grumbling under his breath and sending pointed glared Zuko’s way. The jokes he would’ve usually made around the campfire remained unspoken, replaced instead by uncomfortable silence and heavy sighs. Zuko knew Sokka well enough to know this wasn’t normal, and though Sokka had denied any accusations of moodiness or changes in behavior, Zuko had a hunch as to the reason for his despondency.

He’d recognized it when he’d first arrived. The affection that seemed to follow the two of you like an aura didn’t go unnoticed by the Firebender, and though he’d tried to ignore it he knew that wasn’t fair. Not to Sokka, not to you. Zuko knew you were upset - he saw your worried stares that lingered after the boy and the way your fingers extended towards him as if they were pulled. You’d been quieter, too, Sokka’s hostile demeanor wearing you down and inflicting you with endless confusion and longing. Zuko saw, and he knew. No one could deny it, the care you had for him. It was as obvious as Sokka’s care for you.

Zuko rose early - with the sun, as he liked to say - awakening with birdsong and peeking sunlight. He strained his eyes open with a yawn and a stretch, rubbing his palms along his face. Exiting the tent, he was surprised when his eyes fell on a figure perched atop the cliffside. They were hunched over, their head in their hands and their hair loose from its usual tie. Zuko exhaled, sparing a glance towards your tent before heading Sokka's way.

The awkwardness crept up on him, growing with each step and seizing his limbs in the way it would feel to walk through cold water. The ground crunched under his boots and the sound drew to him blue eyes that darkened upon sight, turning away and returning to their gaze resting upon the valley. Standing behind Sokka, Zuko shuffled on his feet before deciding to sit. His legs hung over the rocky terrace, hands prickled by gravel. Mustering up his courage, he spoke.

"Um, you're up early."

Sokka barely spared a glance, opting to focus on the array of pebbles lining the ground. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "Couldn't sleep."

Zuko nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, for sure."

A moment of silence, and Zuko felt like caving in on himself. It hadn't been this tense between the two boys for a while, not since before Zuko chose good. They were friends, choosing each other's company on errand runs or fishing trips, bonding over sparring and the mere companionship of another friend like themselves. There hadn't been this awkwardness, this distance. But that was before, before you became something more and playful banter had become unspoken competition. But it wasn't ever a competition, not really, and Zuko had realized that. Because the means of your affection were unchallengeable, and Zuko knew who they belonged to. And though the heart of his childhood self may have once longed for yours in return, it simply was not him.

"Sokka," he said, shaking away his uncertainty. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Sokka's eyes met his, and Zuko became aware of the soft resignation in his expression. He mustered a smile, that charming grin that always managed to sooth the group's worries, that could put any mind at ease.

"Hey, don't worry about it, Zuko. If this is about what I think it's about, then there's really nothing to talk about. It's all you, buddy."

Zuko's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"It's all you. You know, you don't have to fight me or anything. I get that you guys have history and I can respect that, you don't -"

"Sokka, what are you talking about?"

His brows furrowed, confusion glossing over him. "We - we're talking about Y/n, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then it's fine. You can go and tell her how-"

"Sokka."

"-you feel and it'll be totally fine. I mean, I don't care like, at all. If she's happy I'm happy, y'know? And besides, you guys-"

He was talking rapidly now, hoping his words could make up for the hole in his chest. He was loosing you, he just knew it. And to Zuko, no less. Spirits, he did not want to see you with him, didn't want to see you with anyone but himself alone. But you were more important than how he felt, and if you loved Zuko then that's-

"Sokka!"

His rambling was cut short, and he found himself panting a bit from the lack of air. The look on Zuko's face was disbelieving - some sort of stupidity-laced astonishment accompanied by a mischievous grin.

Sokka swallowed. "Yeah?" he croaked out.

"It's not me."

He shook his head. "Zuko-"

"It's not," Zuko spoke. His words were firm, final. His prince's voice. "Maybe at some point I wanted it to be, but it's not me. I know how you feel about her, Sokka. And I know she feels the same."

His mouth fell open at his commanding tone, at the puncturing decisiveness of his words. The meaning of them set in a moment later. "Are you- are you..."

"Yeah," Zuko smiled. "I'm sure, Sokka."

His blue eyes stared once again across the valley, gleaming with vulnerability and cautious hope. After a moment, he grinned, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. "She feels the same." He spoke it like a child, giddy with excitement and whispered like a prayer. Zuko couldn't help the tug of his lips.

"O-kay, buddy," he said, standing and stifling a chuckle at Sokka's dreamy expression. "I'll leave you to it, then."

He began his way back to the campsite, his friends finding their way out of their tents and filling the air with the beginnings of morning greetings. A second, then a call.

"Zuko!"

He turned, finding Sokka appearing much more like his old self. "Thank you."

Zuko nodded, and with bittersweet content walked down the slope.

///

The sun was a red shadow across your eyelids, and the muscles fought to strain it out. You could make out faint chattering, scuffling feet and an aroma emanating from the fire that lured you to your feet. You stretched and yawned, muscles sore from days of traveling and mind clouded with an exhaustion that went deeper than could be made palatable by the nourishment of sleep. You were tired of Sokka's attitude and you had half a mind to excuse him from the luxury of your kindness. Whatever. You weren't going to let him ruin your morning.

Mornings with your friends always held a certain domesticity that never failed to bring a smile to your face. Katara stood, as she usually did, above a pot that no doubt held some delicious combination of fruit or steaming rice. Aang was tending to Appa, sending a smile and a wave your way with a call of "Good morning, Y/n!". You smiled and waved back, offering a call of your own. Toph was still sleeping, and Zuko...was talking to Sokka? Strange...you could've sworn they were fighting at the moment.

You walked over to Katara, winding your arms around her waist and placing your head on her shoulder. "Morning, 'Tara," you mumbled sleepily. "Whatcha making?"

"Rice, and some meat we got from town," she replied, chuckling a bit at your affection.

"Sounds good."

From atop her shoulder your eyes met Zuko's, and he offered you a smile. You peeled yourself off of her and made your way over to him, sparing a glance at Sokka's figure still hunched over the cliffside. "Hey," you said.

He stopped in front of you. "Hey."

You peered over his shoulder. "Sokka's up early."

He straightened up suddenly, eyes brightening. "Uh, yeah! You should go talk to him! You know, just the two of you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because! You guys are friends, and friends should talk to each other. Maybe he has....something really interesting to say?"

He was just about bouncing on his feet now, and you were extremely confused as to why he was pushing you to go talk to Sokka. Sure, you wanted to, but he definitely didn't. And...why was Zuko acting so weird?

"I guess?"

He nodded reverently, placing his hands on your shoulders to steer you behind him. "Yeah! So go, um, have fun!"

He walked away briskly, and you were left in confusion. You turned to where Sokka sat, leg bouncing and hair loose, just how you liked it.

You guessed it couldn't hurt, right?

Walking up the sloping hill, the view of the valley below pooled out in front of you. Endless green kissed by sunlight, sounds of glistening streams playing like a far-off song. Your eyes fell on Sokka, and your heart tugged. You missed him. You had longed to speak with him, to be alone together in perfect contentment like you used to, but he 'd either shut you down or you'd loose the energy to try again. But maybe Zuko knew something you didn't, so you mustered up the courage and sat down next to him.

His eyes darted to you instantly, widening as he sat up straighter.

"Hi," you muttered, picking gravel from the earth to sift through your fingers.

"Hi," he breathed.

You turned to him and he stared, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He wondered if you could hear it. Your eyes were curious and hesitant, and he felt suddenly shy under your gaze.

"How're you doing?" You asked him, absent-mindedly drinking in the sight of him cloaked in all his morning glory.

"Good," he answered quickly, sharply. "H-how're you?"

"I'm good," you said softly. He stared, seemingly lost in thought, before shaking his head as if in awakening and turning away. You sat there next to him, bathed in silence and uncertainty. For once, you didn't know what to say to him. A moment, then another, and you began internally berating Zuko for his "advice". You were reaching the conclusion that maybe this wasn't a good idea, when an intake of breath from beside you stilled your thoughts.

Sokka's mouth opened and closed, and a war was painted on his face. He wanted to say something. He looked to you, and at meeting your eyes he seemed to grow more secure. He scooted closer, shuffling across the ground so that your knees were but a breath away and you could feel the enchantment of his warmth.

"Y/n," he bit his lip, searching. Spirits, how was he supposed to do this? These were not the conditions in which he'd imagined the truth would arise, but here he was. "Yes?" you questioned, and he calmed. You would listen, you always did. You wouldn't leave, you never had. Finally, he breathed. "I'm sorry."

Those words were out, and everything else followed after.

"I'm so, so sorry. I've been awful to you. I didn't mean to be, but I guess I was just...jealous? I mean, you and Zuko....no, that's not fair. I know you guys are friends and were friends for a long time, but I guess I just...I mean, you were my friend, and then he came and I only realized it then, and then I was upset because you were with him and not with me, and I couldn't even tell you that I realized it because I was being so stupid, and-"

"Realized what, Sokka?"

He paused, mouth snapping shut. Your expression was questioning, a bit lost from his ranting, and he was implored to confess.

"Y/n, I-" He met your stare once again, those e/c eyes that he had fallen so deep into. Deciding words were not for him, he did the only other thing that could possibly convey what he felt, and how much he felt it. He moved forward, grasping your face between his palms. He leaned in slowly, awaiting any signs of discomfort or rejection. When he found none, he pressed his lips to yours.

It was surprising, how soft his lips were. They seemed to carry every bit of warmth that he'd ever shown to you, every ounce of love he carried in his body. He moved smoothly against you, and you melted. Your eyes slipped shut, arms winding around his neck and fingers running through his hair. He kept you pressed firmly against him, and you would have no complaints if you were told you were trapped there forever. His palms cupped your cheeks, thumb stroking the skin. Air was not thought of until it had to be, and you pulled away, though not more than a whisper.

He kept his forehead pressed against yours and you smiled, a laugh pulling forth from your lips. His chest rumbled with yours, stealing another peck from you with a wide grin.

"That's why you were ignoring me? That's dumb, Sokka."

He chuckled. "I know, I'm sorry."

You smiled, leaning up to press against him once again. "It's ok," you said. "You can make it up to me."

—————-

taglist: @satans-bae-and-queen

[evolutionsvoid]

Logger Sharks are, well, sharks but not the kind you may think of! When most people hear "shark," they think of the toothy saltwater variety, the swimming meat grinders that devour all! Of course this is all hyperbole, sharks are not the crazy bloodthirsty creatures that story likes to make them out to be. They eat meat just like everything else, so lets just all calm down about it. Back to my point, Logger Sharks are not found in the ocean but, rather, inland where fresher waters lie! That's right, Logger Sharks are a freshwater shark that is also amphibious. Their gills are capable of dealing with air, which means these little guys can march their way right onto dry land! This also is allowed because these sharks have grown a set of legs! Their fins have morphed into appendages that can work well on both water and land, which is perfect for their amphibious lifestyle. I am sure this sounds utterly terrifying for the ignorant, but do not fear! First of all, they aren't that big. They grow to about four feet in length. and their dorsal fin reaches about two feet. Second, they have better things to do then gnaw your leg off. You see, Logger Sharks get their name for a good reason, and they work hard for it! If you get past the fact that they are land sharks with legs, you will notice that they tend to go after non-meaty things. The thing they really like to sink their teeth into are trees and other woody vegetation! It turns out that super sharp teeth can do more than slice through flesh! Logger Sharks possess the same fast-growing, replaceable teeth as their ocean brethren, though theirs has a longer journey. The teeth grow in the back of the jaw, then slowly move forward as more erupt. They slowly travel towards the snout, until they exit the mouth entirely! The lower jaw of a Logger shark has a special, spiraled root that allows the teeth to move out of the mouth and down their chin. This creates a toothy circle saw, which is quite good for carving through bark and woody materials! When Logger Sharks find the perfect tree, they clasp on with their forelimbs and use their spiraled teeth to rasp away! Obviously their size and equipment aren't suited for slicing clean through the tree, instead they slowly wear away at it from all sides, counting on the height and weight of the tree to finally topple it. I now realize I kind of made it sound like these guys are chewing down redwoods, but really they are going after smaller thinner trees, because they have to be able to carry them home! After chopping down a good sized piece of lumber, the Logger Shark will use their jaws to chew it into workable pieces. Too big, and they won't be able to carry it. Too long, and they will hit every rock, tree and bump on their way back home. So careful cutting is needed, and once it is done they grab it in their jaws and march! They adorably plod their way back to some pond or lake where they live, as these sharks still prefer to live in water! They like non-moving water bodies, as they don't like to fight the current when they are building! You see, Logger Sharks use this chewed up lumber to build lodges for themselves, where they may eat, rest and groom away from the bothersome outside! They use wood and mud to slap together these little huts, and slowly form an inside chamber to live in. These lodges are furnished with grass and dead leafy vegetation, adding extra comfort to their home! They also sport multiple entrances and exits for speedy getaways and easy access. They don't just build houses, as sometimes extra construction is needed if the water refuses to stop running. Dams and blockages are constructed to bring up the water level and create a personal pond for them to live in! Quite the clever little fellas, though the folks downstream may not appreciate the craftsmanship. 

The other interesting thing to note about Logger Sharks is the fact that they are quite social. This species lives in family groups and work together to build their perfect home! They tend to interact a lot with their own kind, be it felling trees together or staking their claim. To tell others that this territory is theirs, they will use extra rough patches on their body to rub against vegetation. This acts like sandpaper and wears away at the outermost layer of plants. It also is infused with their special marker, which other Logger Sharks can detect. If you ever notice multiple trees having strange worn patterns near the base of the trunk, it is a good sign that Logger Sharks are about! The other tell is the short barks they let out to call to one another, either warning of danger or calling for extra help carrying their haul! Living in temperate climates means that winter is bound to appear, so how do these little guys make it through the cold? Why, they stockpile food and make their lodges nice and cozy! They build special entrances and exits so that they can get through the ice when need be, but most of the time they sleep in their homes. They are able to go into torpor for long periods of time, occasionally waking to snack on some food before going back under. When spring arrives and the ice begins to melt, they are back at it again, making repairs and moving thing around so that the fading ice doesn't cause any damage. Cripes, I just realized I haven't even mentioned what these creatures eat, I have been so caught up in their antics! Logger Sharks are omnivorous, though a hefty portion of their diet leans towards greens. They eat leafy materials and aquatic vegetation, as well as the bark and chunks that come off of fallen trees. For meat, they target smaller prey, like worms, bugs, grubs, frogs and other critters. Their sharp teeth make short work of anything they go after (this includes fingers of fools who can't keep their hands to themselves)! Logger Sharks have been seen feeding on carrion, but honestly pretty much everything does that. Show me an animal that willingly passes up a free meal! This scavenging is what gives people the wrong impression of these guys. Someone will walk through the woods and see a group of them tearing into a deer carcass, then stupidly assume that they killed it. Logger Sharks do not go on feeding frenzies and they do not tear apart large prey! They just don't! Enough with this nonsense! Logger Sharks are a species of shark that give birth to live pups. They do so in the safety of their lodges, where the mothers can look after them and the family can bring them food. They will grow under their watchful care, until they may be strong enough to strike off on their own and build their own future!   With their love for chewing down plants, I am sure many are wondering what us dryads think of them. They eat trees, surely they must be despised! First of all, they don't go after old trees, those are way too big. They prefer younger growths and tree saplings, something they can actually carry. Fallen limbs and branches also work too, as they are fine with scooping up pre-cut supplies! Second, they do not like busy areas and places with lots of people in it. Of course these little guys aren't going to come plodding into town to eat our homes. Honestly, dryads are fine with Logger Sharks because most communities know how to deal with them. This species likes to chew and work, but they won't pass up free meals! What dryad communities do near Logger Shark territory is plant fast-growing tree species that provide Logger Sharks with the materials they want. They may also discard unusable pieces of lumber and wood near these territories, so the sharks may use them instead. When they are provided with plenty of resources, they have no reason to come after our own crops! Do be warned, though, if you live on the outskirts of these territories and collect firewood. If you keep your logs and kindling outside, the Logger Sharks might scurry in to nab a few! Keep them contained somewhere safe, or store them high up! It isn't just our views on trees people wonder about, they also ask if Logger Sharks attack dryads. We are made of wood, after all! Do dryads have to fear bodily harm from Logger Sharks? No. This species is used to working on stationary trees that don't scream or fight back. They get spooked pretty easily, so I can't see any dryad letting one of these things chew through their leg unchallenged. Maybe an incident happens every decade or so, but most of the time it is just a bite or scratch from a scared animal. To have one chew all the way through a leg and then carry it off? Cripes, they must have guzzled a bottle of Napellin Cobalt to let that happen! If that did indeed occur, I would not use that against this species. I mean, how many drunk people have died to horses, and people are still fine working with those? Since I am talking about interactions with these critters, I would like to take a moment to inform folk of a few things. The first, is telling people not to go knocking down Logger Shark dams without proper precautions. I understand some communities get impacted when their river is blocked up by these guys. I would implore you to take a moment to think through the situation and find a solution that won't cause unnecessary harm. I know some folk just run in there and smash the whole thing apart without a second thought, and those people are absolute idiots. If the dam is broke that fast, the rush of water released will sweep away the lodge and any poor pups trapped inside! Also, that wall of water is headed straight towards your stinking town, genius! Hope no one is near the river when that battering ram of water and debris comes hurtling by! So instead of being stupid, why don't you relocate the Logger Sharks elsewhere, or at least drive them away and then slowly dismantle the dam. Bring it down little by little so that the water is slowly released. The other thing I wanted to mention is that Logger Sharks are absolutely adorable, wonderful and are certainly not pets. These animals are very social and need the company of their kind to properly function. I admit myself that I wish I could keep one, but it isn't healthy for them and they don't do well with it. Not to mention what will happen if you somehow own furniture! Logger Sharks should stay wild and stay with their families. The best option, if you want their company, is to be neighbors. Happy, but safely distant, neighbors. I have spent quite a few evenings after a long day's work sitting by the shore and watching them work. It is quite soothing and entertaining! Enjoy them from a distance, and I guarantee you will love every second of it!     Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------------- I realized my world didn't have any sharks in it yet, so I figured I would fix that. Also been reading and seeing how sharks always get the violent evil image, so I wanted my first species to at least be something different than the cliché crazed meat shredder. Took some thinking on how to make a unique shark, but than the epiphany struck! Beaver sharks! I had to draw them up the second it hit me! This is one of the designs I am super proud of, despite the fact I probably say that about every other creature I make. Sharks! Formation! Sticks in jaw, snout in line! Colonel Bogey bring that tune to the 1,2,3 and MARCH!

[evilbeanghost]

Idk completely why, no matter how many times I read the books, I always feel that the notes in Snape's book were actually written by Lily, and not Severus. I have some minor supporting theories but other than that no real reason to think this way. For starters, a lot of the tips do look like they are written to someone and not just notes for the self. The larger reason is that the handwriting is mentioned several times to be effeminate. The handwriting is described in a way to make me think it's very distinctive and should be identifiable. It wouldn't be unreasonable at all to expect the golden trio to recognize Snape's handwriting, given they've now had 5 years of the man marking their essays, leaving notes on homework, and writing on the board. Even at approximately 15 years from the time of writing, Snape's handwriting wouldn't have changed so much that it's indistinguishable. Especially for Hermione who just kinda Does That. But as no one has any idea of Lily's handwriting at the time, that makes more sense to me that they wouldn't recognize it at all. It also makes more sense to me for why Snape would keep the book after all these years. If it was full of Lily's notes and advice, he'd be more likely to want to hold onto it, whereas I can't really see someone holding onto their old textbook for fifteen years, unless it's something lost in like an attic, but in this instance Snape would have had to have held onto it deliberately for it to end up out of his home and into his office six years later.(I believe he started working at hogwarts at 21, right?) He would have had to deliberately pack it into his belongings, and why would someone carry along an old textbook? Oh! And Slughorn calls Lily a potions prodigy, doesn't he? He commends snape for his skill but Lily was the natural at potions. If snape was the one correcting the book, it would stand to reason that he would be the prodigy!(I may be mixed up at this point, I haven't read HPB in years) Regardless, it just makes more sense to me for the notes to have been written to Severus from Lily, even if sectumsempra was created by Snape.

I believe this one is also from you Nonny:

Oh this is the HBP anon I just wanna make clear that I feel Snape's feelings towards Lily are 100% platonic, but didn't initially feel that was relevant to what I was saying.

Hey Nonny, 

Sorry for being so late in answering you - not been around much these last few days. I hope you will forgive me :)

There are a lot of theories about Snape’s Potions book (the dumbest being that this was James’ book *facepalm*), I personally I’m 100% convinced that those are indeed Snape’s notes. To address your clues about them being from Lily, here are my thoughts:

- have you ever written a journal? We do tend to write to someone in them, it’s the same here since it seems that the notes are way more than just potions tips and corrections going by Harry’s attachment to the Prince;

- handwriting has no gender, it’s a silly notion (this is coming from someone who was a little girl with a horribly messy handwriting). Also, I don’t know about you but if you compare my highschool notes to anything I handwrite today you wouldn’t be able to recognize it either. In particular if you were to compare notes cramped in the margin of a book and intended only for myself to something where I would put up way more effort like writing on a board for other people;

- About him keeping the book for that long, it does make sense since it’s full of experimental notes. I still have some chemistry notes from my Uni days that I kept even after my PhD because it was useful. It’s the same for Snape here I think, especially since we never hear about any post highschool education in the wizarding world. There is also the possibility, since it was found among other old potions books, that Hogwarts keep old books to lend to students in need and Snapes’s happened to be among these old books;

- Now, about Slughorn, you need to take some things into account. First, when we see him talking about Lily’s potions skills, it’s always to Harry. It makes sense that for an orphan hearing about his mother is way more relevant in that context than his hated potion professor, even if the latter was equally good or even better. Add to this that Lily was pretty and popular while Snape was dirty poor and an oddball and it’s not difficult to imagine old Sluggy preferring Lily to Severus even if their skills were equals. Since I already did some dig up in the books about that specific topic, allow me to quote myself here:

I dug up my old copy of HBP in order to see exactly what Slughorn had to say about Snape’s abilities at Potions and it is cementing my first take that Severus was indeed the exceptional student while Lily was “just” very good.

This is from the chapter “The Unbreakable Vow” in HBP, the scene during the Slug Club where Slughorn is praising Harry’s skills to Trelawney just before Snape appears:

‘But I don’t think I’ve ever known such a natural at Potions!’ said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. ‘Instinctive, you know — like his mother! I’ve only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that , Sybill — why, even Severus –’

That last bit clearly illustrate for me that for Slughorn, there were a handful of very good instinctive students – Like Lily –, and then Severus Snape above them.

And a little bit further, while raving about Harry’s Draught of the Living Death to Snape himself:

‘You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, the Draught of the Living Death – never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even you, Severus –’

Again, it sounds as if Severus Snape was, until Harry, the unchallenged best student Slughorn ever had.

So you see, for me, it’s Snape’s book, it’s Snape’s nickname (I would pay to see his adult self cringe hard at his ridiculous teenage nickname tbh) and it’s definitely Snape’s notes. 

It’s also very important that those are indeed from Severus Snape from a narrative point of view. The connection Harry felt, his deep empathy for the Prince coupled with how good he suddenly was in Potions under his tutelage is so important:

- it shows how similar Harry and Snape are despite their unfortunate hatred, a parallel (along with Voldemort), that is pointed out several times in the books (the lost boys who call Hogwarts “home”);

- it shows that Harry, while looking like James, is indeed more like Lily in nature and felt instantly deeply connected with young Severus, they could have been best friends;

- Harry’s relationship with the Prince indeed parallels Lily’s relationship with Severus: a deep connection of true kinship, a fascination deep fried in a thirst for knowledge, a visceral feeling of closeness, and then: betrayal.

- it shows that, despite the mean professor persona, Snape could have been an excellent teacher to Harry, if only he could have let go of his bitterness;

- it’s important because it’s a rare window into the true Severus Snape, not an act he’s putting up for the world to see. It was the first clue about his true nature and it’s very interesting that it was given to us just before Snape killed Dumbledore, apparently casting him as evil in the eyes of Harry and by extension the reader. 

Here it is friend, I hope I could convince you and if not, it’s ok, it was a fun discussion. Thank you for the ask.

[inkperch]

Linked Universe Zeldas:

My takes on LU style- Zelda’s. Note: I don’t really follow Linked Universe, and I don’t like a lot of their takes on the Links, so uh, don’t assume these Zelda’s dealt with the LU versions of the Links.

SS: goes by Hylia, she jokingly suggests it when they’re picking nicknames, and everyone else just pauses for a second then realises who exactly she is and freaks the fuck out, so it kinda sticks as a combination of an in-joke and just... well, she’s Hylia reborn, can’t argue with that! The others are all low-key taken aback by how not-leadery she is, she tends to be the most hands-off when it comes to planning because well- she just guards the triforce, Link is the one who earned all 3 pieces and used it’s full power. Meanwhile her descendants picked up Wisdom sometime in the intervening centuries, so she’s pretty happy to leave the plans to them and stick to being a mediator. Third most likely Zelda to pick a fight she can’t win, most likely to win despite that.

Minish Cap: goes by Shortie, bc these beanpoles tried that with Tetra and she threatened to stab them, but Minish just found it hilarious so it stuck. Surprisingly quick to pick up how to fight, occasionally gets the other Zelda’s into trouble by running off, but they usually agree with her that whatever caught her eye was actually pretty worth it, because deep down they’re all massive nerds, no matter how functional they appear. Also tends to randomly grab gifts for the other Zeldas.

Four Swords: just goes by Four, jokes about how much her Hero(es) would be annoyed by that. Usually the first to notice encroaching danger, and always the first to investigate it. At first the more combat-experienced Zelda’s were Concerned(tm) that she is the one sticking herself into unknown dangers, until she pointed out that A) she is considerably less likely to get herself caught unless Sheik wants to go, bc she knows she has less leeway to get caught than they are and B) they won’t be down a fighter for the rescue if she’s the one who gets caught, which they reluctantly concede.

OoT: goes by Regrets, which like, the other Zelda’s just hear her bitterly pick as soon as the topic comes up and immediately decide they aren’t touching that emotional baggage. It’s an mix of Child and Adult timeline Zelda, which kinda fucks her up when she thinks about it- especially seeing as she remebers both Ganondorf breaking free and killing one of the Seven Sages in the child timeline, and what became of the Hero of Time... who she remembers clinging to the thought he got to have the childhood he rightfully should’ve in the Adult Timeline, as the waves climbed up over Hyrule to seal the awakened and unchallenged Ganondorf. So yeah, she tries not to. She also remembers the start of the Defeat Timeline, where she was too late to save the Hero and was forced to lead the exhausted and scattered remains of her people to war to kill the Demon King.

Wind Waker: literally just Tetra, she also is the first to look at the less murder-happy Zeldas and give them a knife. She’s currently working on getting them all up to basic pirate crew levels of fighting without magic, just in case, and she’s constantly pestering the fight-y Zelda’s to a spar. Regrets goes along because she’s had three slightly different Zelda’s merged in her head so her skills are a little rusty, Hylia likes to do it just because people keep forgetting she learned to fight at the same school Link did, and their responses when she reminds them are funny to her. Tetra is picked up from after establishing New Hyrule, and she looks up to Hylia more than she’s willing to admit, often going to her for advice on the whole ‘founding a nation in peaceful cohabitation with the locals’ thing. Second most likely to start a fight she can’t win.

Spirit Tracks: goes by Ghost, refuses to explain the joke to any of the others and thinks she’s hilarious for it. She is, but she doesn’t need the ego stoke. They find out about the ghost thing when she accidently astral projects in her sleep at one point and wakes up to them freaking out over her corpse, which is implied to happen often. Tetra notices that she’s really really weird to train as a fighter, because she already fights pretty well but she also fights like she’s a giant fuck-off suit of armour with a sword as big as she is. She finds it amazing to get to meet Tetra, and is constantly asking her if various stories she heard as a child are actually true or if her mother just made them up or exaggerated. They were not, and Ghost thinks Tetra is the coolest person on the planet for it.

Twilight Princess: goes by Twilight, out of tribute to Midna’s nickname for her. Absolutely misses Midna, respects Regrets more than Regrets thinks she should, but she still angsts a lot about how she just surrendered to the unkillable army its implied she’s the only one who could even see properly who could turn them all into ghos- ahem. I may or may not have opinions about people thinking it’s the wrong decision from out of universe. But yeah, she absolutely angsts about it, and really looks up to Tetra and Regrets bc at least they acted, she just sat in her tower and waited for the hero she knew would be coming. Saying that though, she indulged Tetra’s pestering to fite exactly once (1), and promptly kicked her ass and went back to her book. Because really, what else was she going to do with all that free time while Link was fishing to win a Heart Container and she couldn’t leave her room? Ganondorf had to get the idea to have her use a sword somewhere.

FSA: Even among Zelda's, she stands out for how friendly she is- more than once she brought a ‘new friend’ back to camp who’d been trying to kill them seconds earlier. This got her the nickname Torch, because she shines light into even the darkest of creatures- although, Hylia would like it if she never interacted with any of the mini-Imprisoned from HW ever again please and thank you, that was a step too far for exotic pets.

(I’ll do a followup post for the Defeat Timeline, it has a lot of the older games I haven’t played and need to familiarise myself with the characters in, and it’s already getting late)

Hyrule Warriors: goes by Sheik, was unironically ready to fight her ancestor for the name, but Regrets doesn’t really care. Speaking of regrets, upon learning that Regrets did the exact same disguise in the Adult timeline, Sheik immediately wants to go stab Cia (and maybe Lana too) for letting her think she was getting away with the disguise when Cia had literally seen the exact same trick just one timeline over. (post post-game definitive edition, so Cia has her redemption arc) She also was never meant to be the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, and views it as a burden- without Cia’s interference, the Triforce of Wisdom and it’s visions would’ve been passively sitting in the royal vaults instead of etched into her hand, but fate got confused when the Triforce had been split, but the one who should inherit Wisdom was much better suited to Courage. This leads to a bit of a disconnect sometimes, where fate has changed her into a suitable host for the Triforce of Wisdom, but she just kinda isn’t one. She’s also a MASSIVE nerd (I saw those TP references in Linkle’s Twilight stage Nintendo! She literally started dropping random history quotes after almost dying, the nerd) so she’s constantly fangirling over all her famous ancestors, because if anyone had managed to hear legends from all 3 timelines, it would be HW Zelda. The most likely to pick a fight she can’t win, she literally only pretends to be functional and have impulse control when they’re in her Hyrule and her people can see her.

BOTW:

Both BoTW Zeldas avoid each other like the plague because yeah, that’s a physical manifestation of my failures. They’re not consolidated like OoT was for bonus angst- because just merging them would show her there’s a happier timeline where all of her friends survived and Hyrule didn’t fall and crumble to ruins while she and Link took a 100 year nap.

AoC: goes by Terrako, because why the hell not. Has Terrako with her, which gets confusing, but he’s an adorable Eggy Boi, and basically team mascot. Is using her Master Cycle+Sheikah Slate movesets, bc she tried to use her Goddess bow moveset and reality just kinda glitched bc there were two Zelda’s using the exact same power, and they both agreed to never try that again. 

BoTW: goes by Architect, because that’s what she spends half her time doing these days. Regularly nerds out with Sheik. Low-key dying inside from self-worth issues rearing up again now that she’s hanging out with all these legendary queens, but tries not to let it show and keep with a positive attitude, too mixed results.

[ofmermaidstories]

Spoilers for the latest chapter of Something!

I'm gonna go ahead and apologize now because this is long; please feel free to ignore my wordy ass, I just have a lot of feelings about a certain someone that showed up in the new chapter lol.

I am still trying to get my shit together enough to write a proper review, but I did want to come yell at you for making the grape boy somewhat likeable, like...

Firstly, how??? Secondly, why?????!?!

Lmao, in all seriousness tho, it's nice to see him have a personality that isn't just "Mmmm, tits" *drools* I like to think that everyone in the series grows up and (mostly) out of the worst of their habits, and while Mineta is still a bit of a lecher here he isn't nearly as offensive/creepy as he comes off in show. In fact he's actually sympathetic in a lot way. The bit about seeing his first dead body before "getting laid" hit different like... He tries to play it off like a joke, but dude has to have just as much PTSD as the rest of them, maybe even more given that he wasn't able to fight back in the same way as someone like Bkg or Deku would be able to with their super powerful offensive quirks. They were all just kids, but they had to face hell full on from jump, and let me stop before I get too in my feelings lol.

In a lot of ways, he reminds of you the boys from school — crude. Taking for granted the safety from being in a pack, unchallenged. Leering at posters, saying off-colour things because no one corrects them.

That's exactly the way I view him, just a crude little thing that refuses to be put in his place for long lol. Still, with his being a hero I would hope that he keeps a cap on it while he's on the job--in fact I'm sure he does; if he didn't I'm sure that Aizawa would've yanked his licence by now, the likes of Deku and Kiri wouldn't continue to associate with him, and that's saying nothing of the shit that would get posted to social mead and such. I feel like the only reason he says what he says to the Reader is b/c she's a little gremlin herself and he knows he's got a bit more leeway, yanno?

The little hangout session that they had at the end of the chapter was weirdly heartwarming?? I want a friend(???) that I can be a surly little shit with and draw on and that will call my bf that's not really my bf but should be my bf because he's (that is Mineta) got more emotional intelligence than me lmao. Never thought I'd see the day when the grape would make for such an excellent wingman--tho I gotta wonder what that text he sent to Deku said. Probably something along the lines of "come get yo girl, she must be bored/lonely af because she asked to hang out with me" followed by "are you ever gonna close the deal or not? or have you already hit it??? >:)" just to give the guy an extra push (or maybe he's got a better sense of self-preservation than what I give him credit for, idk lmfaooo...)

Okay, this is WAY too long, I just had to get it out of my system lol. I loved the new chapter lots and I cannot wait to see how things play out in the next one!!

LOL, oh Puck, i adore you sdlkfjsdlkfjsdlkfj

me being a shit-stirrer/asking myself questions i don’t have answers for under the cut

Cat asked me this question earlier today, actually — why Mineta. And honestly? Part of it is the challenge he represents — like, how do you write him into a fic and mature him up so that he’s at the very least, tolerable, but also keep the backbone of his character (which is being a little degenerate). Like, is it possible? One of the most popular tags on ao3 for mineta minoru is something along the lines of “mineta minoru is replaced with shinsou hitoshi” LOL so…….. why didn’t I just use Shinsou? Or Aoyama or Iida, as Cat suggested? And beyond the part of me that delights in giving myself perceived challenges, there were two stark reasons that stuck out to me, when i was first mulling over his inclusion.

1) the fact that he can draw. it’s literally as simple as that. ever since the BNHA exhibition opened up in Japan and it was revealed that there was a scene in there with a class blackboard and the kids having their little drawing competition — and that Mineta was objectively the most skilled — i was like, “i have to include that”. LOL. it’s like you say, Puck, our Reader is a little gremlin herself — i thought if I was going to write a Reader that could handle interacting with him (ie, be in a position to pay him out) it was going to be this one. I think being in the manga industry and starting out on this journey of creating and drawing a Shonen manga sort of put Reader in this unique position of… being in what seems like a boys’ club? So she’d be used to the male gaze within her field. I follow Horikoshi’s assistant (former assistant?) on twitter and let me tell you, that man is not shy about the things that he likes to draw LOL.

the 2) thing was the philosophy i’ve sort of accidentally given myself LOL and that’s the fact that — as a Bakugou stan, if i’m giving grace to a character who was a literal violent bully then………. i can use my magic powers and hand it around to the other characters, too, LOL. and like, i would argue that with Bakugou it’s different, like we’re currently seeing in the manga how he has grown and learnt and is actively changing, which is the key to any kind of redemption. do i think Mineta will ever undergo that in cannon? absolutely not lmao, i see him as being being Hori’s idea of comedic relief, he’s always going to be a horrible little degen. but i want it for him…… if only to justify why the boys of Class-A collectively ignore his bullshit, for the most part? Like, none of them actively call him out on it?? i think of the time he tried to climb the wall to spy on the girls in the onsen — and how it was literally only Iida scolding him and how it took a child to stop him. Or the one when he found the stupid hole into the girl’s changing room and while the boys all looked grossed out….. Jirou’s the one that point an end to that?????? I saw a TikTok (derogatory) suggesting how like, none of the girls of Class-A would trust Aizawa, as adults, because he didn’t do anything to put an end to Mineta’s bullshit, and it was a devastating suggesting. None of us want to believe that our favourites would be passively okay with this kind of behaviour, right?? Which means……. Mineta’s gotta change LMAO. And if Hori isn’t going to do it then imma borrow him and do it myself. Does it work? I have no idea LMAO i can’t judge anymore, my meter is broken. but i’m gonna work with what i’ve given myself and it either will, or it won’t LMAOOOO kldsfjlksdjflkdj fic is about having fun at the end of the day. :’)

But it’s like you point out, Puck — Mineta is also a child, when these kids get trotted out to their first War. And he’s also not as offensively built as the hard-hitters like Deku and Bakugou and Shouto are. Even if it’s not explored in the manga, that War is going to change them all somehow.

So, my gameplan for Mineta was to grab ahold of the tiny things about him — the talent for drawing, the like one [1] observation he has about the wreckage of the war/pro heroes during the war arc, his tears for Bakugou when B wakes up afterwards and how he tells Deku how cool he was and how much he admires him, in the current Bring Deku Home chapters — and try to envision a sleaze bag who learns that the bullshit he pulls won’t be tolerated, even if he’s still ultimately a skeeze LOL. i mean, he’s never going to drop that er…. appreciation for the female form. and i mean, hey, live your best life King, i’ve distinctly noticed a hand-fetish floating around on this site lately so i’m not gonna be like “NO men can’t like ANYTHING”. But the thing with him being a sleaze and open with his leering is like, he’s actively made the girls of his class uncomfortable with that in the past — how do you write it so that he’s not doing that in a position of power with the women he works with (and saves!), as an adult?? Maturity only goes so far. How much can I bank on the war and the subsequent bullshit they’re gonna face from it on…. transforming him??? It shouldn’t be up to the girls he’s learning with to police him, they’re just children. I have a vague gameplan for it — whether or not it works will be one thing; whether i can naturally shove it into the fic is another, LOL. Guess we’ll see. 🧐

SAYING ALL THAT,,,,, i’m actually really glad you liked (???) the ending scene with him because it’s my favourite LMAO lkdjflkdsjflkdjfkldsjf. 😭😭 Reader is by no means perfect, and she and Mineta both need to start treating each other with more respect, but her bullying of him was fun to write and I like imagining a Mineta who considers himself to be close with Deku (whether or not Deku thinks the same is up for debate) going along with it. i could see this version of Mineta being enough of a shit-stirrer to say something like, “gotta lock that shit down” to Deku LMAO kdfjlkdsjflkdsfjdklsfj and then getting left on a skyscraper somewhere…. RIP short King.

[shades-of-grayro]

Don't take out your frustration on new people trying to figure their stuff out. Instead of blasting the other user's opinion, -as misinformed as it was- because they didn't seem to be doing it with bad intentions or malice- to everyone who sees your blog, you could've made a reply clarifying without putting the blog on blast. Do better. Don't be an unsafe space for healthy discussion.

I would have loved to use the reply feature for exactly that reason, but unfortunately Tumblr does not let me reply from this blog. So, if you have any other suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them, but that one doesn't work. Tumblr sucks, I know.

I try to mitigate the impact of this flaw of Tumblr as much as possible, but my policy is that I do not leave bigoted comments unchallenged on my posts. Specifically because comments like those make our community an unsafe place for others (including myself). I reply or I delete. I debated deleting those comments, but I judged them to be potentially well meaning (it really was not clear at all from either person's first comment - second person seemed more clearly well-meaning on the *second* comment), so I responded to give those individuals the chance to learn how to do better. Could I have been gentler? Sure. But I am just so fed up with that kind of sentiment in our community, and it didn't happen.

I specifically offered to delete all of those posts if the commenter was okay with me also deleting their comments because I recognize what you mention as a problem. The commenter's response did not include a request to do so, so I did not. (That offer still stands, btw). One thing I didn't do which I probably should have was request that people not reblog that version of the post, and I apologize for not thinking of that at the time. I will make a point to do that in the future.

I also use the tag "#intracommunity issues" so that my followers who do not want to see those kinds of posts do not have to. And I do not promote or condone a blog culture of having my followers pile on (hence why one of my problems with that commenter was that they were responding to something I already addressed). This problem is one I've thought through, and that was the best solution I had to it at the time. I'm also, again, happy to hear more suggestions if you have them, but the reply feature is a no-go.

I do want to be abundantly clear: "new people trying to figure their stuff out" don't have a free pass on saying things that harm others. Gatekeeping based on attraction is something I find to be hurtful to me personally, and while I generally try to have those kind of conversations gently, it doesn't happen all the time. If a newbie is actively making a space unsafe *for me*, that's already "an unsafe space for healthy discussion"!

Lastly, while the standards you are expecting me to live up to are actually ones I aspire to, it is also not appropriate to tone police. Conversing gently with people who do things that hurt you is something to personally aspire to, not something to demand of others when they respond harshly to something that hurt them. (Especially given that I don't have masses of followers who are likely to do harm, like some people on the internet do.) That personal aspiration has to go *hand in hand* with doing your best to listen to people even when they're at their last straw and being a bit harsher, otherwise it's just another tool to cause harm. I'm not overly bothered by this, but it's something to keep in mind for your interactions with others.

ETA: I also define "well-meaning" to be not rigidly holding bigoted opinions. People can see their intent as positive while causing harm (most people do when they cause harm, no matter how abhorrent) - I do not consider this to be well-meaning (i.e. more deserving of an understanding response) unless it is accompanied by willingness to see the harm they caused and try to fix it. The view the second commenter expressed in their first comment is one that is often held quite rigidly, so I am very hesitant with assuming someone is well-meaning when they say things like that.

[princeescaluswords]

i just realized that i havent seen you around legacy for a while... i hope everything is well, i miss seeing your meta!!!!!

As much as I miss it, and I do miss it, I felt it best to leave Legacy, at least for a while.   The moderators - who are my friends even though we disagree on this - decided that I was being too negative about Peter Hale and that I was, to paraphrase, generally hostile to people enjoying things uncritically.  They did not ban me; they didn’t even issue a formal reprimand.  They wanted me to back off, and I thought that it was best for me instead to leave.  I understand their point and their goal in having a place where fans of Teen Wolf can talk with other fans without tension, but in this case, they’re wrong.  For all their goals, in the end they want to make other people feel welcome and respected at the cost of my feeling welcome and respected.

Peter stans -- and many other stans of white male villains -- go on quite a bit about how they love Peter flaws and all; they love him for his flaws.  They claim they never try to excuse what he did, and then turn around and do exactly that by ‘explaining’ his actions in such a way that it excuses what he did, specifically by attacking other characters who they see in opposition to him, and by attacking the show itself for portraying Peter as a villain, when his role as a villain is crucial to the show’s narrative.

When I’m on a Discord server to talk about a television show, I want to talk about the television show, not some parallel-universe version of the television show. But here’s how these conversation go:

Peter murders people, including innocents and his own family members. We see it on the screen.

Peter violates people, including innocents, teenagers, and his own family members.  We see it on the screen.

Peter manipulates people, including ... well, everyone.  We see it on the screen.

Derek, his own nephew, doesn’t like him and treats him like a manipulative killer.

Stiles, the most popular character on the show, hates him and treats him like a manipulative killer.

Scott, the hero protagonist, is wary of him, even though he has hope for him.

Malia, his biological daughter, thinks he has no morals and had to be bullied into calling him dad.

Deaton and Reformed Deucalion warn people not to trust him.

Melissa and Noah, everyone’s favorite parents, treat him as if he’s the scum of the earth.

Peter in direct contravention of everything we see on the screen: “I had reasons beyond just being a selfish prick!”

Peter-stans: “See, he had reasons beyond just being a selfish prick!”

And then we’re off to the races, because from that attitude that we get the wretched Left Hand Theory, that’s where we get the wretched and racist Born Wolf Purity Theory, that’s where we get the easily-disprovable and extraordinarily racist Black-and-White-Thinking Tyrannical Moron Scott Theory, that’s where we get the supremely racist Sinister Tree Wizard Deaton Theory, and several other theories that have at their base the singular goal of transforming what we see on the screen into something else which doesn’t fit in with a single other thing the show tried to do but does make Peter (or Derek or attractive white male villain) look better.

Let’s take the Laura Abandoned Peter and That’s Why He Killed Her and Not Because He’s a Power-Hungry Monster Like Everyone, Including Himself, Admitted Theory.  Apparently, the fact that Laura was alpha and that Peter was safely cared for in a long-term care facility in Beacon Hills is abandonment.  Because apparently he wasn’t safe -- except he was safe.  Because apparently she could have helped him -- except Derek didn’t know about giving up the alpha spark until Peter told him so how could she have helped him.  Because apparently she never visited him -- except that we don’t know if Laura visited him or not, we only know what happened the last time she visited him.   Because apparently Peter resented being well-cared for -- except he never once made that claim in the half-dozen times he talked about his coma.  

Or shall we take the Talia Was Secretly a Right-Wing Republican Pro-Life Fanatic Who Never Listened to Peter and Thus Drove Him To Evil Theory, where they take Peter’s fever-dream rant against Talia -- which he himself dismissed as the words of a lunatic -- and the Desert Wolf’s provocative taunt to Malia when she was trying to kill her (unless you think Corinne just wanted to share the truth about her pregnancy for ... reasons?).   Oh, and don’t forget that they wonder why Talia let the Tates adopt Malia, even though everyone in the universe knows that the Teen Wolf chronology is screwed up, and we don’t know what Malia’s parents knew, and we don’t know if Talia intended to keep an eye on Malia, but she couldn’t ‘cause she was dead.   Yet somehow, the show said Derek respected her, Deaton respected her, Deucalion respected her, even Gerard respect her as much as he hated her.   But these single lines and suspect speculations prove to the Peter-stans that she was a terrible person.

We don’t excuse his actions, Peter-stans cry, but don’t you think that he was simply reacting to what these Evil Women Did To Him?  

The problem isn’t that I’m hostile to people enjoying the show uncritically, because they aren’t doing it uncritically.  They’re creating a whole counter-narrative, proposing alternate characterizations for established personalities, and reinterpreting scenes in different contexts, and that, my friends, is the work of critical examination.   I know, because I paid off a ridiculous amount in student loans incurred by getting a degree in it!   

What they’re objecting to isn’t my preventing them from enjoying the show - because I never have - it’s that they want their critical and transformational enterprise to go unchallenged.   They want to be able to say that the secret subtext of the show is that Peter isn’t really, as the production literally had Melissa say “Your father is a ruthless con man who always has a devious plan to hurt everyone around him,” but instead that he’s worthy of admiration for these qualities which they have manufactured out of the ether.  

They want to propose these alternative views of canon and not be challenged on them, because if they can’t back them up with evidence or resolve the inconsistencies these alternative views create their feelings might be hurt, which are simply more important than mine.  When I sit there and listen to them talk about how Peter would be such a great boyfriend for Stiles, or that Scott’s behavior gave Peter a reason to try to have Scott killed, or that they think he was out of character in Season 4, and I have to pretend that it doesn’t go against the very things I enjoyed about the show.

If I’m going to be on a Discord server proposing to honor the Legacy of Teen Wolf,  I’ll want to be able to discuss the legacy of the show, not bite my tongue as people tear apart the narrative with the transparent motivation of justifying their murderer kink.  The Peter Hale Fan Discord is another server, one of which I have no interest in. 

But in the end, it’s not my server, it’s theirs.  And I’d rather leave then argue with my friends.

[bltngames]

Review: Hotshot Racing

(For this review, Hotshot Racing was played on the Nintendo Switch and the Personal Computer)

If you were to ask me what the most important features of a racing game are, somewhere near the top of the list would be artificial intelligence. Racing games are one of those genres, like fighting games or shooters, where simulating how real human people play the game is vital to the experience. They are inherently multiplayer concepts, even if you’re playing by yourself.

Focus on multiplayer artificial intelligence has waned over the last 15 years. With the rise of the premium multiplayer subscription, it’s more important than ever before to drive players to play matches with flesh-and-blood human beings online. Thus, advancements in “bot” (simulated human player) development hasn’t just slowed down, but in some cases actively regressed. Epic Games, once home to some of the smartest, most robust first person shooter bots in Unreal Tournament, now features bots in their popular Fortnite Battle Royale that fumble around the map with low attention spans and aim like they're blindfolded.

Humans are hard to simulate. The basic functions of a player are easy to emulate -- navigation, aiming, and so on, but it’s the organic logic underneath that proves to be the primary challenge. Humans have lapses in judgement. Humans make mistakes. Mistakes compound on other mistakes. A person wins or loses a given game because of a constantly cascading sequence of decisions, all feeding in to and out of themselves. Whether they realize it or not, every individual person is their own infinite web of chaos. For a computer, which operates in a binary of either perfect success or total failure, no amount of processing power can make for an accurate duplication.

As such, artificial intelligence has to “cheat.” Flaws are introduced into the simulation in order to throw the player a bone. Intelligence almost doesn’t even enter the equation; instead, it’s more about developing a bot that the player simply believes is human, like some kind of a magic trick. It’s a tight balancing act -- if the bot is too good, it looks like an unfeeling terminator. On the opposite, well… compare my Fortnite example up above. There’s a sweet spot that must be hit: smart, but not too smart. Dumb, but not too dumb. It’s easier said than done.

Racing games are a special category here. On top of simulating a human, they must also simulate an automobile, with all of its physical interactions. Tire friction, suspension bounce, weight distribution, and horsepower efficiency just to start. I’d argue that this lends to a much greater tendency for natural mistakes to occur, as the two different simulations (vehicle and player) interact and bounce off of each other. This has led to racing games relying on a handicap known as “rubberbanding.” Essentially, if the player is doing a little too well, the game will start giving tiny advantages to the computer-controlled racer. A boost to top speed, a reduction in weight to improve handling, whatever it takes to ensure the player does not remain unchallenged for very long.

Which finally, at long last, brings us to Hotshot Racing. Developed by Lucky Mountain Games, with assistance by Sumo Digital, it attempts to capitalize on the growing faux-retro-3D trend. It promises visuals to remind you of Sega’s Virtua Racing or Namco’s Ridge Racer, but with decidedly modern vehicle physics and a bit more content than any of those old games could muster.

It honestly makes for a weird first impression. This is a retro-looking game that does not feel like any retro racing game I’ve ever played. Some would undoubtedly argue that’s for the better; like with most sports games, there’s this sense that more simulation is always better. Even modern “arcade” racers like Need for Speed or Wreckfest run pretty robust physics simulations under their hoods, even if they do not necessarily adhere to the rules of reality. But I’ve honestly never seen a problem with this -- I will readily go back to something like Daytona USA or even Stunt Race FX on the Super Nintendo, and never feel especially bothered by their primitive simulations. To me, racing is often more about the sense of speed, how well the controls respond, and the track design than any notion of feeling “realistic.”

That’s not to say it’s really a negative that cars in Hotshot Racing have some vague facsimile of modern weight and “realism” applied to their driving physics, I guess. It’s just something that takes a little bit of getting used to, because seeing these cars drift and sway like the racing games of today is a little anachronistic to the era being called back to. If you still burn a candle for the eventual release of the long-lost Kickstarter darling “90’s Arcade Racer,” know that this isn’t that game. I think it’s fair to say it’s trying to scratch a similar itch, but it’s doing so in a very different way.

One of the more important things Hotshot Racing brings to the table is a roster of personalities to race as and against. When you think of characters in a racing game, your mind probably more naturally gravitates towards something like Mario Kart or some other similarly kid-friendly cartoon racing franchise. For most "serious" racing games, your opponents are unknowable, faceless competitors, but Hotshot gives them voices and identities. Every character in the game has a garage of four cars unique to them, in addition to having their own story to tell. It’s nothing especially deep; most plot manifests in a single cutscene played at the end of a given grand prix, sort of like what you'd get for finishing arcade mode in a game like Street Fighter 2. It’s just a snippet, a taste of what motivated these people and what they’re going to do after winning, but it’s enough.

It goes back to what I said earlier, and how it’s important for the player to believe the artificial intelligence is more than just a computer. Making the racers into characters, with identifiable personalities, faces, and dialog goes a long way to fleshing things out and makes you connect with what’s going on just a little bit better. Or at least, that’s how things would work in theory.

The problem is… well, none of that matters. Put simply, the actual artificial intelligence you race against kind of sucks. In fact, it’s hard to even call them competitors, because your opponents seem to be running a different race where you straight up don’t exist. During any given event, your rival computer drivers seem to be totally blind to your presence, as they will spend the entire race trying to drive straight through you. I don’t know how else to explain it. This isn’t a simple case where the computer drivers are a little aggressive, because they usually aren’t racing to be destructive. They never seem to specifically go out of their way to attack, they just don’t seem to be able to see where you are, and make no effort to react to your presence. You happen to be in their way, so they plow through from behind, ram from the side, and generally just knock you around as if you were invisible.

A side effect to this is something I’ve started noticing in games that bear the Sumo Digital name: computer drivers can hit you way harder than you can hit them back. Whether rubbing against a rival car or engaging in a full-on collision, computer drivers always seem to be able to overpower player vehicles no matter what. In Hotshot Racing, I’ve encountered multiple scenarios where a computer driver shoves me around with little effort, but any attempts to return the favor and my car may as well be made out of styrofoam for how little impact there is. I know Sumo Digital only assisted Lucky Mountain Games on the back half of developing Hotshot Racing, but this has been a consistent element I’ve noticed in Sumo’s Sonic Racing games, too. The computer can be as aggressive (or as blind) as they want, but human players are never allowed to retaliate in a way that feels meaningful.

The worst, by far, is what I mentioned earlier: rubberbanding. “First place” in Hotshot Racing is an often endless war of attrition, where no matter how fast you drive, there are always cars nipping at your heels. Hotshot Racing has a boost system, wherein by drifting or drafting you charge up a segmented meter. Once a segment is full, you can burn it for a burst of speed. I’ve spent 2, 3, even 4 consecutive boosts in a row and the same three opponents were still right behind me, aiming to blindly smash my car out of the way. Hard, medium, or easy mode, it doesn’t matter. They are always there, just a few feet from your rear bumper, magically closing the distance to constantly steal your lead.

From a game design perspective, I understand why rubberbanding exists. It’s to keep the player feeling challenged and engaged. Spending too long in first place going unopposed can start to feel boring. Some game designers view that as a turn off. Races are meant to be battles. At the same time, being able to totally shut out my opponents and gain huge leads makes me feel good. Hotshot Racing robs you of that sense of total domination because of some artificial rule of competitiveness. It’s not that the computer-controlled racers are better than you; they don’t seem to race with any sort of great care or skill. Instead, they catch up and pass you strictly because the Hand of God bends the rules to accommodate them. That doesn’t feel very challenging and it certainly doesn’t feel fair.

That being said, the pseudo-realistic physics mentioned earlier do have their own downside: I found it a little too easy to lose control of my vehicle and spin out. If you brush against a wall wrong or get bumped by a rival during a drift, you often find yourself in a tailspin and unable to recover. Combined with the blind artificial intelligence and the rubberbanding, you have a recipe for getting frustrated. I want to feel confident in my losses, not because I couldn’t predict what Mr. Magoo was going to do next. To add insult to injury, the rubberbanding only gets more prominent as you move up in difficulty, so expect to get spun out more and more as you progress through the game.

There also isn’t a lot to do with your vehicles, either. For many, tuning is an important aspect of racing games, going all the way back to 1989’s “Super Off Road” in the arcades. No upgrade path is available for any of the vehicles in Hotshot Racing, with a basic unlock system geared towards limited cosmetic tweaks. There's tons of tracks to race on, and you constantly earn currency for winning races, but I never cared about spending any of it, because there wasn't much worth buying. Arguably the specific mid-90′s era that Hotshot Racing is aiming at wasn’t really heavy on upgrading or modifying around vehicle stats, but neither were they focused on visual customization either, so it does feel a little arbitrary what they chose to modernize about this experience and what is intended to be a retro tribute.

Beyond standard racing, Hotshot does offer a few alternative modes, but none of them are spotlight features. “Barrel Barrage” has you earning an explosive barrel to drop behind you at every checkpoint until the track becomes a minefield. “Drive or Explode” takes the concept of 1994’s “Speed” and straps a bomb to your car that will explode if you slow down for too long. Finally, “Cops & Robbers” is a confusing push-and-pull where you must steal money as a robber and alternatively wreck other racers as a police officer. Of the three modes, “Drive or Explode” is the clear winner, as it most easily fits into the standard three-lap structure the game centers around. “Barrel Barrage” is merely okay, and benefits more from an increased number of laps, as things slowly get more and more dangerous as you progress. These modes would also benefit if I didn’t get thrown back to the menu after every race; they really needed some kind of Grand-Prix-style playlist.

“Cops & Robbers” deserves its own entire paragraph for what a weird idea it is. It’s less about stealing and arresting and has more in common with the “zombie” modes seen in other games, where everyone gets converted to a specific team until there are no more players left. The idea is that you start with a pot of money that slowly depletes, and you have to race to the next checkpoint to cash out. The faster you get there and the higher amounts you cash out with, the more the cops specifically will target you. Once they wreck your car, you become one of the cops, and it’s your job to wreck the remaining robbers until they all become part of the cop team. Once all the robbers become cops, winners are tallied based on who stole the most money. On paper, this works, because it plays into the game’s slap-happy nature, but in practice I would find myself miles ahead of my fellow robbers and once I finally switched over to a cop, I had to slam on my brakes and wait for everyone else to catch up. By then, the computer-controlled cops had usually done most of my work for me and I lost for... being a better robber than a cop, somehow? It left a lot to be desired.

All of these modes can be played online, where presumably human players would make them more balanced and fun, but finding random pick-up games proved difficult in the time I spent with Hotshot Racing. Now, to be fair, I didn’t try especially hard -- racing games have always been a single player experience for me, as should be obvious by my spiel on artificial intelligence. But I did spend a couple nights trying to match into an online “Quick Race” on the Switch, where I universally came up empty handed. On the PC version of Hotshot Racing (which I received as part of a Humble Bundle), the application completely froze upon trying to start a “Quick Race” lobby, forcing me to ALT+F4 to close the game. For what it’s worth, the Switch version does also include a “local multiplayer” option for playing wirelessly with friends in the same room, and all versions support traditional split-screen.

Despite all of these shortcomings, I just can’t bring myself to hate Hotshot Racing, and it’s hard to pinpoint why. I’m definitely in love with this aesthetic -- the retro visuals, the upbeat music, the blue, blue skies (that I see), it all appeals to a certain part of my brain that likes razor-sharp, ultra-clean polygons. The introduction of named racers with backstories and character-specific “endings” is a really smart, fun idea. I just wish it was more fun to actually, like… run a race in this game. I understand the necessity behind concepts like rubberbanding, but it feels like the artificial intelligence cheats just a little too much, and as a player I don’t feel like I can do a lot to fight back. Running a good race isn’t always good enough.

Some games deliberately incite a feeling of disempowerment in their players, and that can be a totally valid design decision. But should that really be the goal of this kind of racing game? I guess I don’t have an answer for that, but I do know that I probably won’t be going back to Hotshot Racing very often.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

This is the last ask ill send because im honestly tired of this whole thing

I dont know why you brought up the anon hate you got when that’s no part of the discussion. Even if it isnt your intention, you’re making yourself out of to be the victim when you arent. You say you want to get better but each time something gets pointed out you get on the defensive. I dont know why you decided to bring it up, but now that you have: Piama is indeed whitewashed on your drawing. “Warm lighting” doesnt change peoples undertones like that. Compare it to Piama’s last two cgs if you really don’t believe me.

Even if you aren’t affected, you need to be able to recognize it without poc having to tell you in order to be a good ally. I wouldn’t want a straight friend that lets people make homophobic comments about me in their presence and then hear them say “it doesn’t affect me so i couldnt tell it was homophobic so thats why i didnt defend you”. If you aren’t able to recognize it then you’ll inevitably repeat the same rhetoric. Racist rhetoric is everywhere and spewed every single day so you cant expect poc to be with you all the time and take you by the hand to tell you whats racist or not. Those are the reasons why you need to learn how to identify it by yourself, be listening to poc, by developing critical thinking skills, by not surrounding yourself with only white people. If not there’ll be more unchallenged asks such as one i saw recently that pinned poc that complained about yet another white route “stupid because they dont get that lovestruck releases routes by demand”. As if we have no concept of nuance.

No one is obliged to accept an apology, especially after what happened. I dont know where you got that idea from, especially when it concerns something that hurts people this deeply. And I didn’t point it out what happened just to be petty, I pointed it out because it isn’t an isolated event but a pattern of behavior of unchecked racist comments. That was simply the worst case: It was handled poorly, considering mod viv herself never apologized and again, swept it under the rug. The apology I saw from mod wrath was vague, didnt address the situation directly, was posted on this blog so no one knew what was going on, and was later deleted. So yeah she can apologize ten times and it still doesn’t mean we have to accept it. Especially if it’s that catastrophic because it looks like its more about saving face rather than feeling remorse, even if she did feel bad. You’re too eager to call it just “a mistake” and pin me as the unreasonable one.

And I want to ask you, have you truly seen with your own eyes an interaction where someone said to the other “if you like vinca you’re racist” and was completely serious?Or have you heard it from someone else saying that they were told that? Because considering that other anon watering down a woc’s criticism of lovestruck as “she doesnt like white people or this blog” then yeah i wouldn’t trust anything else coming from their mouths. People are getting too pressed over the millionth white woman in the app. Hell even if it happened, it’s probably what, one, two people? But you’re lumping all of us together as if its been a wave of saying that. The valid criticism surrounding Vinca is interconnected with Nahara’s release (one of the few dark-skinned women in the app) considering people kept saying they’d rather have a Vinca route when Nahara’s was announced. They’re not even willing to support it just because they want Vinca’s and that sends a message to voltage. So it simply doesnt boil down to “well its a difference in personalities”. Im gonna go as far as to say that if a woc had the same attitude as Vinca, people wouldnt be frothing at the mouth for her or they’d delve into the realm of fetishizing (as some people are bordering the line with Piama). But thats a whole other topic. And since people want to act stupid: all of the white characters in lovestruck are white because voltage made them that way. They could’ve quite easily made them a poc, but they rarely do. Think about what that means then, if youre really trying to defend yourself by saying “well they put out whats popular”

Lastly, you should really evaluate the content and beliefs you put out when racist people are still comfortable following and interacting with you. This is why i want this discussion to be public: your followers need to read this and apply it to themselves. Because considering the amount of anon hate you said you got yesterday towards the other blogger, theres a bunch of your followers who need to get off their phones and learn to care about other people and stop being racist assholes.

Believe me, I’m tired of it as well.

I brought up the anon hate because I didn’t want you to wonder why I was posting your asks in this form.

And no. Piama is not whitewashed. I took a dropper tool and took the color directly from her sprite, and if you’d looked at my blog, you would’ve seen that I sent screenshots as proof in response to that ask. But you obviously didn’t, so I’ll send them here again. (1. Without lighting. 2. With Lighting.)

If you still don’t believe me, you’re welcome to call me on Discord and I’ll share my screen and show you the entire process. And as an artist: You’d be fucking surprised what lighting does to colors.

Well, yes, I need to be able to recognize it indeed. The thing is: I can’t always. I try my best on this, and there will be moments and issues that will come up, mistakes I will make because I’m not perfect and not a machine. And in those moments, I’d love to have a friend that affectionately slaps me and says “JD, that was shit.” So I can apologize and notice it the next time. I have had multiple friends be transphobic to me in certain ways. I’ve informed them about it. They apologized and haven’t done it since. We’re still friends to this day. I do try to educate myself on racism and put in some work. I don’t expect POC to do all the work for me and explain to me how to be an ally correctly, and still - I hope they help me just as I help my cis friends with trans stuff. I can’t magically change all my behaviors and overcome internalized societal racism with the snap of a finger. If I could, I fucking would have already done it multiple times. The way it is, I’m working on it. Again - I’m sorry I didn’t point out the racist comment in the ask. I should’ve done that, and I’ll make sure to do it in the future.

You’re right no one is obliged to accept an apology. You’re right this hurts people deeply. And as I said - Mod Wrath apologized three times, including one on her personal blog which was a lot less vague. Mod Viv also apologized - to the person in question, in private. Just because you didn’t see it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And the thing is - if you refuse to accept her apology, that’s one thing and fully your right. And the thing is: If an apology is not going to make you forgive her, if ten are not, what do you need in order to forgive? Will you never forgive? Will you always argue it’s going to be an apology to save face when you don’t know the fact she does feel remorse? How will you see that she does?

I did hear the Vinca thing from a friend of mine. Whom I trust. Because seriously, why would you make things like that up? Who would even get the idea? I’m against the idea of believing my friends would lie to me for attention or whatever. And yeah, the criticism of that anon was unfitting - I’ve visited the blog they claimed was doing that and I found nothing of the sorts, so that comment was unfitting unless I missed something. I never intended to say that it’s all of you saying that. I intended to say that some people are handling the issue wrong. I’m sorry it came off that way. I do believe though that it’s people’s full right to say they’d have preferred Vinca over Nahara. I would’ve preferred Vinca. I still read Nahara tho. However, it’s not yours to dictate which routes other people have to support and which not. I will however agree with you that people should give Nahara a chance - it’s quite the sweet story. And I for my part would enjoy a POC Vinca just as much as a white one. (Also, side note, you’re making it appear as if everyone would either fetishize or rage over her, which is very much putting all of the “white” fanbase into the same bag, the same thing you critizised me for earlier. It’s understandable from a psychological point of view, tho, so I’m not gonna comment further.)

Yeah, Voltage makes the characters white, and that’s an issue people can only fix by demanding more POC in the ask posts and comments. Which many do, btw. They put out what is popular indeed, they put out what is demanded, and I fucking demand more POC. I want it. They could’ve made so many LIs POC and they haven’t and I’m fucking unhappy about it too! I’m not even trying to say anything else.

Yes, making this public to arouse thinking is a good policy. The followers need to read this indeed. And we didn’t get anon hate for the other blogger. We got anon hate towards us. Tons. Comments that went as far as telling mods to kill themselves. And while I agree with lots of the things you say - some of the ways you’re acting actively spark this type of hate. There is being loud about the issues you face, and then there is calling people racist assholes based on a comment they made instead of talking to them personally and telling them that’s not okay, giving them the chance to improve themselves instead of always having them stamped as a racist. Just because you’re the one who’s hurt, the one who’s morally correct, does not mean anything you say or do is good behavior. 

You told me I whitewashed Piama when you, with a minute of research, could’ve found proof I didn’t. You obviously wanted the internet to see, maybe hoped I’d get exposed? Could I get an apology for that? And I promise, I’ll accept it because I’m willing to believe you’re a good person.

Summary of everything:

You’re right with lots of things.

I behaved wrong and I’m sorry.

Lovestruck has an issue with racism that we need to change together. 

Together. Without toxic behavior from any side.

- Mod JD

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Rose Puppetry Ch3: Grimm

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world.  Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did.  Then she fell in love.  And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1.  Ch2.

.

No thick, pollution smog billows over Atlas.

As they emerge out from the service tunnel onto the streets, Penny and her team stop to gaze upwards.  They don’t have the time to spare, but they can’t help themselves.  It’s not often they get to see the sky like this, sprawled out above them like some great, sapphire painting.

Penny grimaces.  Beautiful as it is, the sky is a reminder of all that’s been taken from her too.  Even after this mission, even if it’s successful, she won’t be able to simply relax and enjoy a peaceful, sunny day.  Not so long as she has to always look over her shoulder for the Atlesian Military.

At least she’ll have Ruby back, Penny quietly reminds herself, so, perhaps, being haunted by the ghosts of her past won’t be so horrible.

Setting a determined, brisk pace, Penny leads her team down the street.  She glances at each and every person they pass.  Sure, they have a well-prepared cover story for why they’re there and what are likely some of the best fake IDs in existence, but those things were attained for the eventuality of them being stopped and questioned.  They do nothing to prevent that happening in the first place.

The first pair of eyes that avert their gaze when they accidentally look in Penny and her team’s direction she doesn’t think much of.  The second, and then the third, though, indicate a pattern.  No one wants to notice them, Penny realizes.  She observes as fancily-dressed Atlesians see them, and then abruptly cross the immaculate street.  Businessmen in finely tailored suits push past like Penny and her team don’t exist.  Elegant ladies in silky dresses huff and avert their gaze as if coming marginally close to resting their eyes on maintenance workers will sully them.

Penny and her team are invisible.

It shouldn’t bother her.  It makes traversing the streets of the city unchallenged that much easier.  Still, an uncomfortable feeling settles in Penny’s gut.  She remembers a time, long ago now, when she was treated like an object.  A robotic toy with no mind of its own that simply did as instructed.  One that could be flaunted like a trophy.

Maybe not today, because today she needs to be focused and covert, but one day, one day, Penny will make sure they see her.  They really see her.

Atlas Academy rises above the rest of the city, a verifiable stronghold of sleek, ivory towers, unmarked by the dirt and grime of the world that sustains them.  Originally, the academy was meant to be a symbol of brilliance at the heart of Atlas.  The crowning jewel of the flying marvel itself.  A declaration of all the greatness that Atlas encourages its people to aspire to.  

To some, namely the heirs and heiresses of the wealthy elite who can afford to enroll them as students, the academy remains so.

Maybe once the less fortunate believed in the school, too.  But then, the gates were closed to them.  Access to the hallowed halls where so much knowledge lies in wait restricted, unless they first enlist and fight in Atlas’s war of conquest.  After all, the wealthy elite fund the academy.  Why should the mostly the poor of Mantle be given the same privileges, without offering something in return?

A small handful of such hopeful, would-be students lived through their tours of duty and were granted a place at the academy for their service.  Many more did not.

Stories are told in Mantle, of the ones who don’t come back, and the hardships faced by the ones who do.  Very few make the attempt anymore.  Not that the General King needs them.  Years have passed since he ordered the first unit of Atlesian Knights.  The Atlesian Army is far more robotic than man these days.

Penny and her team stop in a forgotten library.  Tomes of their kingdom’s history before Atlas rose sit in wait, gathering dust around them.  Seeing these books makes Penny sad.  Since joining the Rebellion, she’s met so many who would be eager to come here, read them, and learn from them.  She doesn’t have much time to ruminate on the books, though.  They’re only here for a brief stop, a final preparation before their move to infiltrate Watts’s laboratory.

Penny checks her connection to each of the daggers she has on her person and their battery charges.  All of them, as expected, are primed and ready to go.  The daggers are far smaller than the blades Penny uses as part of her main combat weaponry system, but far easier to conceal and faster to activate if the need should arise.

Penny thinks back to that last night with Ruby, and how her swords had been far away, on the other side of the room, useless, during the attack.  She forged her daggers at the first opportunity she got after joining the Rebellion, and seldom takes them off her person.  Never again will she be caught off guard without means to protect herself and the ones she loves.

Once everyone is ready, they set out for the laboratory.

Contrary to the mental image Penny created for herself, the building housing the laboratory of Arthur Watts looks like any other on the Atlas Academy campus.  Penny knows this, has always known this in fact, but, since Ruby’s capture, she’s started to think of it as a darker, more sinister place, similar to the villains’ lairs she’s read about in storybooks.  A looming castle-esque fortress with intimidating battlements and twisted gargoyles.  Not a squat, clean, whitewashed building lording over an out-of-the-way courtyard.

They make their approach, careful not to let the security cameras capture a full view of their faces.  Inside the building, there’s a small reception area with a front desk, which an automaton is stationed behind.  They hand over their fake IDs, the robot makes an affirmative sort of noise and directs them to an elevator bay.

It’s when they’re riding down, waiting for their lift to finally arrive at their destination, that Penny truly begins to worry about the ease of it all.  Sure, Watts’s lab has never had as much security as other sensitive locations at the Academy.  The idea anyone would break into a place where, if they were caught, they’d be left at the scientific mercy of its master, has long been considered unbelievable.  But, Penny doesn’t think it should be this easy either.  They planned for so long, gathered so much intel.  To just walk in, find Ruby, and get back out, it doesn’t feel right.

As the elevator dings its arrival at the laboratory level, Penny switches her daggers to ‘combat ready’ mode.

No one’s there when the doors open.  No soldiers, robotic or otherwise.  No lab techs or assistants.  Not even Watts himself.  No one prevents them from approaching the heavy steel double doors of the laboratory.  Their loud, echoing footfalls go unheard.

Penny stops when she reaches the door.  The others stand behind her, waiting for her to make the final decision.  She stares at the doors’ gleaming handles, sucks in a sharp breath she doesn’t necessarily need, wraps a hand around the cool metal, and tugs the door open.

The laboratory, surprisingly, is in a state of utter and immaculate cleanliness.  Penny blinks at the space, reseting her optical receptors to ensure they’re working correctly.  She expected something grittier.  Bloodstains splashed across surfaces.  Pieces of horrific experiments left out to rot.  Something to indicate the gruesomeness of what goes on here.  But there’s nothing.  It’s as if Watts simply packed everything up and neatly stored it away.

Well, almost everything.

At the very back of the laboratory, pushed against the wall is a throne-like seat.  Given its location in such a place as the lab and its resemblance to the other stools scattered about, it wasn’t built to be of great importance.  Someone had gone through the trouble of attaching a back and armrests to it, as well as acquiring thick, deep scarlet, velvet cushions for the person upon it to sit comfortably.

The only indication that that person doesn’t have the power most would assume belongs to someone in such a seat are the clasps firmly locking her wrists and ankles down.  Her helplessness doesn’t seem to bother her.  The person—a young, recognizable girl—doesn’t try to fight or break free of her bindings.  She simply sits on her throne, with her eyes closed, her breathing slow and calm.  Waiting.  Like a puppet whose master has put its strings to rest for the time being.

Upon her head is a pitch black crown of mechanical spikes and thorns.  It is this that Penny’s eyes go to as she approaches, and the blood red ruby precisely centered in it above its wearer’s forehead.  The jewel could have been an amazing, priceless treasure, if not taken and used for such a horrid-looking device.  Now it is naught more than a cruel mockery.  Beauty taken and warped into something deeply unpleasant.

Penny reaches out.  Her hand trembles as it closes the distance to Ruby’s cheek.  She hesitates, gulps, and then allows her fingers to touch her beloved’s cool skin.  The moment Penny makes contact, the spell holding her back breaks.  She lets out a relieved, little laugh.  She cups Ruby’s cheek fully in her hand and affectionately runs her thumb across it.

“I’m here,” Penny tells Ruby.  “I came for you.  I’m so sorry.  I’m going to get you out of here.”  She reaches for the clasps keeping Ruby in place.  Before she can touch them, Ruby lifts her head up and away from Penny’s touch.  Slowly, almost mechanically, Ruby opens her eyes.

The denial Penny has been able to drown herself in these few, precious moments dissipates completely.  She looks into Ruby’s eyes.  Rather than the friendly, loving silver she knows so well, bloody crimson irises in a sea of charcoal black gaze back out uncomprehending at her.

“Ruby?”  Penny’s voice wavers.  She barely manages to keep it from breaking completely.

[those-garsh-darn-homos]

My encounter with God

I used to be a person of high faith, and I believed there was a higher deity looking down on us. The question of whether that deity is a man, woman, or not even human at all, had always plagued me, or the reasoning for their indecisiveness on so many issues in the world. Just like so many others, I would sit awake on nights and ask, how could a God allow such evil to flourish in this world? Such injustice to go unchallenged and unresolved. My first encounter with God, came just I did.

It was a late, sleepless night. The day had been long and hard, and the week had been worse. Life was moulding together into a miasma of daily tasks that I completed with no true accomplishment being felt by the end of any of them. So, there I lay, looking at the ceiling, asking myself questions that I did not have the answer to such as “why was I here? What purpose do I even have anymore? Would anyone miss me if I disappeared tomorrow?”. I had ostracized myself from social circles in order to distance myself from any further stress and conflict in life, but the decision had only brought me more pain and misery. Nothing could help me get out of this pit of despair I had dug myself into, not drugs, not sex, not even the fucking tube. I was well and truly hopeless, in every sense of the word. Despite my internal philosophical conversation, I still felt natural urges that needed satisfying, as my thoughts suddenly shifted to a pair of double-D breasts I had saw on the bus that particular day. I sighed and reluctantly unzipped my fly, preparing to charm the one-eyed snake like so many nights before. First, I envisioned touching them, feeling them up like one might do to the melons in the fruit aisle. I slowly moved up to rubbing my face against them, feeling my airways being blocked by sacks of colostrum. Finally, the fantasy involved me hotdogging the two globes while twisting the mammary glands sensually, since it wasn’t only my enjoyment that mattered at the end of the day, right? I could feel the climax on the horizon, the body tensing, mind racing, breathing manic, until it happened, and my life was changed forever. As the semen ran up the urethra, time slowed, what was seconds, became a minute, and my sense of reality shifted momentarily. My dark, humid, piss scented bedroom, was filled with an overwhelming light, so much that my eyes began to water. A figure stood in front of me, and as strange as the situation was, I did not feel scared, but more as though I was in a familiar old family home. The figure stood, illuminated and shadowed by a beam of light emanating from behind them. They outstretched their arms to me and began to speak, but as I heard their first words, it all disappeared, the light, the figure, the vision, it was all over within a minute. I grabbed my chest as I felt my heart racing from the incident, thinking I had gone mad or had some sort of stroke. I cleaned up my cum covered body and went to bed, thinking of the figure, and why the vision had affected me so deeply. It didn’t concern me as much as I thought it should. Words at the time could not explain my feelings or emotions towards the event. For such a bizarre event, it didn’t feel out of place in the slightest, in fact I felt oddly calm and understanding about the vision.

I woke up the next morning and went about my day, feeling far more peaceful and fulfilled then I ever had. I had thought of myself as a hopeless case for so long that the feeling of peace was so foreign to me. I had conversations with people, I enjoyed what I was doing, thinking of that figure the whole time. I was never really a believer in the paranormal or anything of the such, but any rational explanation that I tried to tell myself, I found it was all just so unsatisfactory, it didn’t explain it. It wasn’t in my head, it was real, somehow, it shouldn’t have been, but it was. The workday ended and I was left to walk home. Once there I partook in the usual time wasters, TV, food, reading, but as midnight neared, I felt the urges again, like clockwork. I held my manhood in one hand and stared into the ceiling, waiting for the climax, and when it did, my eyes were met with blinding lights once again. I felt as though I was the deer in headlights, taking aback by the incandescent glow, body frozen in time as it’s beauty shun upon me. The figure stood before me once again and I asked “who are you?” and as the light dimmed and the vision weakened, I heard their reply “God”. It didn’t last as long this time. What was a minute last night, only felt like 30 seconds this time. It was definitely shorter.

Fears related to my own sanity began to rush my thoughts. I really had gone mad if I was talking to God, but it didn’t feel like some sort of imagination, it attacked all my senses. Incense burning, light shining, angels singing, my mind couldn’t have possibly created that, could it? I went to get a CAT scan the next day. When they slotted me into the machine, I was expecting them to find some sort of brain bleed or tumour that was inducing visions but they assured me there was nothing on the scan. While it was relieving in one aspect, at the same time I was no closer to understanding the reason for these visions, and I was apprehensive to disclose that I was seeing God every time I orgasmed to a phycologist, knowing they’d probably lock me up in the looney bin.

Weeks passed and fear of seeing God had gripped my soul tighter than a virgin’s ass. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing them for seconds, all those questions I would have, all those arguments that I wouldn’t be able to have in that little time we do have together. Their glow, it filled me with feelings I hadn’t felt since I was a child. Such feelings of safety and protection I had thought I had forgotten so long ago, and yet came back to me like familiar tunes in the back recesses of my memory. Why me? Why would I be visited by God, when there are those on the verge of death that need guidance from such a figure. I don’t even go to church. Motivation filled me however, I felt imbued with creativity, to fulfil my dreams and do what I wanted to do, not what I was told. I created art, stories that I was proud of. I put them out for the whole world to see, to share in my pride of my creations, and for once in a long time, I felt happy with myself.

The solutions to my problem had been narrowed down to divine intervention. I would have to enlist the help of the Catholic clergy if I wanted to understand any of this madness. I visited a church and asked the Priest for guidance. We sat and he asked what was troubling me. I responded to his question with one of my own. “Father, have you ever actually met him?” I said, he bowed his head in assurance and replied, “The lord watches over us, there is no need for him to speak to us” which I took as a no. If he had never met God himself, then why is he a fucking priest? What is holding his faith together? “I did, last night Father, as I pleasured myself, I saw them, there was a light and they spoke to me. I keep seeing them but only for seconds now, not even, I see them in a glimpse now. I have tried to stop but every time I see them I feel at peace with myself, their glow is just has ineffable effects on my soul, it gives me faith in myself, more than it does in God” He once again understood and wrapped an arm around me in comfort, “Do you believe God has come to you for a certain reason my child?” yet as he said it, I didn’t have an answer for him, “I’ve lost my faith? Could that be why they came to me? I’ve also been stuck in a cycle of self-loathing, it’s hard for me to love myself Father, I try so hard, but life keeps seeming more pointless by the day. I ask myself why we’re here, why I’M here, but I never have the answer. I have lost my purpose for life. Do you think God visited me to help me re-follow the path of righteousness?” He assured me that God had a plan for me, as did he for all of us. “Your worries are needless my son, God does not put us here for no reason, there is always a bigger picture just beyond our view. We may never fully see it, but the important thing is we are always contributing to it”. His words did comfort me, and his guidance did assist me. I knew I would have to find a way to ask God what his plan was, if I had any hope of understanding anything in this world or my future. I could not sit back and know that the answers to everything were in my grasp, I could only see them for mere seconds that was the problem. Like a dog being teased with the scent of fresh meat, I was salivating and in desperate need of sustenance, only of the mental verity instead of the digestive.

In desperate times, desperate measures become viable options, and in this time, I had only one. My interactions with the Holy ghost had become flashes, missed if I so much as blinked. I would only get a syllable out to them if I was lucky and then the light would fade in an instant. For months I hypothesized ways to achieve a state of orgasm for longer since I had narrowed that exact moment as I achieve climax to be the one moment where they come to me. I had come to the realization that women achieve longer orgasms than men thanks to the large amount of nerves in their clitoris which was specifically intended for pleasure and nothing else. At first, I was worried about the implications of becoming a transgender woman, leaving behind my previous sex for a life filled with the hardships of a female in such a male dominated world, but I couldn’t miss my opportunity to help the world, if it meant waving farewell to my magnum private eye, then so be it. It took a few weeks but once I had begun taking the estrogen to start the process, my body became far more sensitive to any slightest touch. Soft breezes against my skin tickled the hairs on my arm and gave the sensation of feathers running up and down my back. I knew the treatment was working when the light returned, this time for at least ten seconds. He knew how much joy I felt seeing him again and did not ruin the emotion thick in the air by speaking, they only outstretched their hand, and placed it in my own. I closed my eyes as I held on tight, and while the light may have faded, I felt their hand in mine for all of that night, giving me more love than I had ever experienced in my life, just from their hand alone. I refused to open my eyes, to see them gone, so I simply lay, holding on until I fell into unconsciousness.

Time passed as it does, and I had refrained from pleasure of any kind until I would finally have my clitoris. With this golden ticket to speaking with the lord of all life, I would be able to right the world of all wrongs, to answer questions long thought to be forgotten and impossible to comprehend. I would have the knowledge of Gods and save the world from itself, to rectify humanity and all of it’s selfishness and greed. People would look up to me, they would see my wisdom and share in it, bringing about a new age of humanity. I would be a prophet, the next Moses or Muhammed, come to set the world on it’s proper path.

The day of the surgery came and before I went under, I envisioned speaking with him, I thought of every question, I would bring the worlds woes upon his shoulders and make him fix it. As our creator he would have to do exactly that. The surgeons began their procedure, and I could feel the beginning of my new life had started in this very moment. No longer would time be a hinderance to my meetings with God, no longer would I have seconds to speak with no words spoken in that time, no longer would their omnipotence go unnoticed, they would have to answer to me, they would have to fix it all. My prayers could no longer be drowned out when I was the only one standing in front of them, they would have to bring my father back, they would have to fix my finances, they would have to make all sickness cease and death an afterthought of the human condition. Perhaps they had simply been ignorant to the cries of help from humanity and all those in desperate need to divine intervention. The amount of people they simply watched die, and for what? Joy? How could they sit and watch that every day? Never feeling guilt upon their shoulders. It’s sick to think of God as some sadist, but to not do anything for these people, why else would they do it? He can help them, can’t he? If God is good, how can he simply watch us suffer? Is he really omnipotent, or have we just assumed that he is in fact a God above man? Every horrible thing done onto me throughout my life, flashed in my head as I underwent that sex change surgery, everything that God sat back and watched happen, and in that moment, I hated God, I hated everything he stood for, silent observation in the face of suffering.

When I awoke from the surgery, I inspected my newly bequeathed meat curtains. The wonders of modern science did not fail to amaze me. I ran one finger over the clitoris and knew in an instant, I would have more than enough time to speak with God after this. I was discharged and sent home, and on that night, I took the leap, and met my maker. I began to ring the devil’s doorbell, and after much ringing, he answered. Weeks of pent-up sexual pleasure had led to this moment, and as the endorphin release began, so too did the turning point of my entire life. The light engulfed me in all it’s beauty and for the first time, God came to me, not shadowed any longer, showing their true self. It was a woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Long pristine brunette hair, eyes green like fields of fresh grass, skin as soft and smooth as silk. This was God? “I know you’re surprised, and I know why you’re here, you have some questions for me don’t you?” her voice, it was, so soothing, how could I feel so much hatred for someone so perfect in every way? “You’re God?” I asked, giving her a smile on her own face from my question “They played me as a black man in Bruce Almighty, is it that surprising that I could be a woman?” She had a point, no reason why it could be impossible. “My child please, ask me anything you wish to know and I will tell you” for months I had waited for this moment, and not even the first expectation I had about this encounter was right. If God was a woman, what else about her was a lie? How much did we really know about God? Had I really just imagined all of this? I sat down and asked my first question, “Why?”. She understood it perfectly, crossing her legs in preparation for a long chat. “Why are you here? Because I created you, long ago, I had a plan for you, just like everyone else. When I created the first tiny little organism that would later become you, I knew I was creating something perfect”. Her answer rattled my brain, I had been planned for all of time? “You don’t understand, why are humans here God? Why do you watch them suffer? How come you don’t help those in need?” and as much I wanted her brow to furrow and her expression to be one of anger, she remained calm and began to speak once again.

“You see, humans are not like many other creations of mine. When I created you, humans that is, I gave you something that no other entity has had before, the knowledge of the Gods. You’ll find it referenced in the Bible, when Eve ate the apple, but most of that is all metaphors. There was no garden of Eden, but it did represent the beginning of humanity. I couldn’t explain to people two thousand years ago the process of evolution, so I had to explain their purpose in another way, in a way they would understand. Humans are wiser now, but it did serve its purpose. As for your second question, it’s very simple, you are all Gods in your own right. I gave you my knowledge so that you could prove that good can prevail over evil. You might be thinking, and yes, it’s true, God is capable of evil, greed, anger and hatred too, I am just like you. The only difference between humans and I, is your mortality, which is a blessing that I was never given. I have been cursed with immortality, for a sin I am unaware of.” As she said that, I thought about God’s creation, did someone give her life? A God above Gods? She continued “Your mortality is something I gifted you with to see the importance of life. While you may see death as something to fear, it gives you reason to strive for greatness. If you knew you would never die, you would never see a point to life, you would never want to use your time for anything meaningful, since there would be so much of it. Your mortality gives you reason to do the right thing, to respect life in all it’s beauty. If all sickness and suffering was healed by me, you would have no reason to live. You would not see life for the impermanent thing that it truly is, you would become complacent, ignorant to the good in this world. The capacity to save life is within you, all of you, every human has the capacity to do good, and just as much of a capacity to do evil. You know right from wrong, not because I told you, but because of your respect for life. Evil is in you too, just as I am not one woman, the devil is not one man, you are all Gods and devils yourselves, it is simply up to you whether to do good or evil. You say I do not help those in need, but every doctor, every nurse, every helper in this world, they are me and I am them, we are two sides to the same coin. That is divine intervention, when an ordinary person like yourself, decides to do what is right and help those around you.”

Everything she said resonated with me, it all began to make sense. The world was never so black and white, we were always living in this symbiotic relationship between our maker and ourselves. She wasn’t cruel, she could’ve been, but she decided to give life to something she did not need to. She could have made us immortal, made us loath our own existence, but she empathized, and gave us what we needed, not what we wanted. If it was not for the constant looming fear of death, I most likely would have given up before I started this life. “But what about death? Is there heaven or hell?”

She held her hand in mine and began to explain the true nature of our demise “It is not so simple, when you die, you’re not really dead. Physically yes, you’re decomposing, but spiritually, you live on in everyone you knew. Humans have developed such an amazing connection with one another that it transcends death. I didn’t understand it when I saw it, since it’s in your nature, but I have observed it closely, and while I might not feel it myself, it is a powerful thing that you can’t fully understand yourself. While you can’t affect the world yourself when you die, your life could affect the course of the future for decades to come. Generations, still feeling affects from your life, your actions have ripples in the waters of humanity that you can’t see, but I can. People may not know that it’s you that has affected them, but you are still alive in that time. That is true immortality. While you rest, your life continues, long after your heart may stop, but it does keep beating, just a little smaller, in another person’s heart.” Not only was life symbiotic but so too was death. It all made such clear sense that I didn’t understand why it wasn’t so obvious before. The suffering is there for us to stop, not God. The death is there to give us reason to end the suffering. It wasn’t cruel at all, it was the most loving thing that a mother could give to her child.

“But why can I only see you after achieving an orgasm?” The light began to dim as I asked her this, and I knew this would be the last thing she would say “Euphoria my child, I gave humans the gift of pleasure between each other. It is a beautiful thing, sex. I created it in a way that anyone can partake in it, and I made it so it would be a celebration of life. Every time you orgasm, it is a reminder that life can be good. People will try to stigmatize it, but everyone knows how good it is, and everyone has done it, it doesn’t need to be said, but no humans would be here if it wasn’t for sex. It is for those few people like yourself that have lost their way. You are not bad, but you simply need some guidance. For a few moments in your orgasmic euphoric state, you are able to transcend into my plain of existence. For those few seconds, everyone becomes a being of pure love. You have simply fallen into loneliness, you are not bad or evil, you are just confused with life. I only come to those that need me but do not know it, not those that want me but don’t need me. I have talked to many people like yourself, you might meet one or two of them but it is very unlikely. They don’t talk about me because they do not need to. That priest you talked to does believe in me, but he does not need to meet me to believe in me, he only needs to see the good in the world, and see that God is within him and so many others. Go now, live your life with purpose and do the right thing in the face of evil. Respect life, and show people that God is within everyone, they only need to believe in themselves”

With that, the light faded, and I was back to my mortal life. No more than thirty seconds had passed in that elongated moment in time, but that is all it took for me to see that it wasn’t about worshipping God or praying for the good in the world to appear. I was the good in the world, I was everything I was always looking for, and now I had to prove it, to show others the true meaning of life. Look out world, cause here comes Christine Weston Chandler. NOW STOP FUCKING ASKING ME WHY I’M TRANS!!!

[ailuronymy]

Hello, Grey. Hope you’re doing well.

First off, a note for your information. I’m autistic, and tend to come off as incredibly direct without meaning to. Do read straightforward bluntness in this ask as genuine, matter-of-fact forthrightness, please. No aggression or derision is intended by anything I write hereafter.

Recently you made a post responding to an Anonymous ask referring to a question about non-binary cats in Ailuronymy’s character generator that was asked by the same Ruddles five years ago. I couldn’t follow your argumentation in either post, nor understood what you found wrong about the original question of that Ruddles.

Grey’s notes: hello there. I’m putting all of this under a read-more since there’s already a lot of words here. I would like to settle this matter and so I hope this might give you some answers–but if not, I’m sorry but I’m not really looking to continue the conversation any further. I didn’t really volunteer to have to deal with this kind of thing when I started writing a blog about pretend cats, and while I am very happy to try to educate and do what I can with the knowledge and little platform I have, this particular kind of education not what I’m here for and I’d prefer not to spend my time on it more than is necessary.

I have absolutely nothing against nonbinary people. I also consider real-life commonality a possible valid argument for commonality in a character generator for a fictional world that is integrated into a version of real Earth.

This is where we disagree. In real life, non-binary people are (allegedly) less common than binary people. I’m willing to agree with you on that. However, that is also not actually the issue I have and to explain what I mean by that I want to raise two points:

1. why should a for-fun name or character generator be expected to reflect real-world statistics?

2. why is the non-binary entry the sticking point, and not the the statistical over-presence of albinistic cats, for example, or white cats with blue eyes that aren’t deaf, or tortoiseshell toms? 

If I made a character generator for a pseudo-medieval fantasy, would you expect me to carefully ensure that the ratio of kings to peasants was correct? Would I be expected to put several thousand peasant entries in, and only one monarch, so that it would “accurately” reflect the “real world” (note: pseudo-medieval fantasy is not a real place or time, just like the world of Warriors is not)–or would people recognise that a character generator is merely a prompt and not something that needs to be taken literally? A character generator is simply holding up an option to you, which you are free to take or leave or change as you desire. 

The fact that the non-binary entry is the issue and none of the others I’ve listed–all of which are “statistical errors” within the context of the generator–reveals that this is not actually a concern about accuracy. If it was simply a concern about accuracy, then the person would be considering all of the ways in which my generator does not deliver an accurate reflection of “the real world.” But it’s not about accuracy, it’s specifically about the non-binary entry. And that is why I have an issue with this stance. 

If you can look at an otherwise error-filled generator and express concern only about the fact you have to see the word “non-binary” more frequently than you think is correct, that is a bigoted mindset. The non-binary entry in the generator is exactly as common as “tom” and “molly”: a one-in-three chance. You have two-out-of-three chances to see a binary gender, which is still a majority. 

I understand if you don’t want to spend your time on this, and respect your decision to do so if you so choose. However, I would like to understand why the above argument I mentioned isn’t valid in your eyes, and what makes inquiring about the generator ratio’s incongruence with real life ratios in humans instantly bigoted, since I wasn’t able to follow the reasoning there. How can asking a mere question that, to my eyes, seemed innocent, qualify as being bigoted? Isn’t the definition of bigotry more in the direction of an actively damaging, enduring prejudice?

It is not a good faith question, even if the person asking isn’t intentionally trying to be prejudiced or is asking the question in genuine curiosity. The question itself is not innocent. I think it is a mistake to refer to any question as “mere” because many questions can in fact be insidious, hurtful, inappropriate, malicious, or intentionally derailing. 

I would also like to point out that “sealioning” is a technique that certain people use to exhaust people by asking questions. That’s not what the anon who asked me was doing (I believe this was entirely an isolated incident and not actively malicious), but it’s not uncommon for marginalised people to be asked seemingly innocuous questions with the intent to exhaust, derail, infuriate, or belittle them. I can recommend watching carefully for this kind of behaviour, because it often takes the form of “polite” or “innocent” questioning--and then getting performatively upset when the person eventually refuses to engage anymore. 

Answering questions takes time and effort and energy, especially when the question is “explain why you should have rights” or “I don’t see why [thing that hurts you is bad], please explain in detail,” so sometimes people get fed up and lash out after being needled at length with similar. (This is kind of a detour, but I felt it’s worth acknowledging the way in which question-asking can actually be weaponised against marginalised people).

Anyway, as I said above, to isolate the frequency of the non-binary as an issue in a context where statistical accuracy is not assumed or required and would not be expected of other traits reveals that the person asking has an issue with non-binary being as present as it is. What does the person asking this question seek to achieve? If the non-binary entry in the generator is reduced in frequency to a “normal” or “accurate” level, what does that actually accomplish? 

One could certainly make the argument that it’s fallacious to relate real-life commonality to generator commonality, bringing forth whichever reasons one might choose; but instead in your response back then you chose to instead personally criticize the commenter while skipping over their actual question. How come? What made it invalid to address?

Sometimes I am tired and people make me cross with the things they say, so I be short with them and say exactly what I think of their behaviour, rather than hold their hand like a kindergarten teacher. If I was asked the same thing today, I would probably have been gentler and attempted to be more informative, because I have become gentler as a person in the five years since I answered that ask. I’m sure you can understand. Sometimes I’m not playing 4d chess and don’t have the wisdom and forethought of the sages. Sometimes I’m just a cranky old guy writing about cats who gets interrupted and has to tell someone to get over their nonsense. 

The Ruddles from back then didn’t imply viewing non-binary people negatively in any way, did they? (Genuine question; due to being autistic I’m not good at reading peoples’ intentions, and even worse at it over text.)

The implication is the question. Perhaps this person really did believe they “don’t have a problem with non-binary people”–but they clearly had enough of a problem with the word showing up 1/3 times on a generator to come and request for me, the creator, to make the word less common so they did not have to see it as much. That is not something a person does when they legitimately don’t have a problem with non-binary existence. 

How did what they asked have the potential to hurt anyone?

The question is hurtful implicitly because it calls into question the validity of the non-binary entry taking up space in the generator, and I suspect that could possibly hurt people’s feelings to read. 

But the big issue is actually what that person might also do. The question itself can do very little, but the unchallenged prejudice that caused the question to be asked at all can be very hurtful if left unchecked. That’s why I go to the effort to answer questions here. 

Why did you consider their train of thought about relating commonality in the generator to commonality IRL unkind or self-centred? It seems an obvious and innocuous connection to make, to me. Where does kindness or the lack of it come into the matter? How I understood, the argument appears focused only on factual observations of our reality, rather than making any statement disliking the inclusion of non-binary as an option in the generator, or equivalent.

There’s a phrase some people like to use that says “facts don’t care about your feelings.” But we are not facts and we can choose how we interpret and deliver facts to one another. Unkindness features in this question in the absence of considering how non-binary people might feel seeing themselves represented in the generator, and how it might feel to have someone quibbling over “commonality,” like they are a hypothetical to be debated, instead of real people who will read the question on my blog.  

Many people have thanked me over the years for including the entry and I care about how they feel. I felt that the person asking that question cared only about comforting their own worldview, instead of ceding some space in it for others–at no personal cost.

As far as I can tell, there ought to be some layer of personal prejudice that seems invisible to me in the original Ruddles’ question, else your response wouldn’t make sense - and I doubt that’s the case, based on what I’ve read from you the last few years.

I understand that you may not want to respond to this for whatever reason. Maybe it would take too long, maybe you don’t want to open this can of beans, or consider me a lost cause for my confusion.

That is fine. I accept your choice.

But if you do want to help me understand, I’d be thankful for a short explanation about your reasoning, so I can gain the contextual information to evaluate whether my own viewpoints, that wouldn’t have considered the initial Anonymous question from 2015 to be anything but an innocuous inquiry phrased a bit unfortunately, have the potential to cause hurt in the future.

I’m afraid I can’t really give a short explanation, given how much you’ve asked for me to clarify in this message, but I hope this reply clarifies what you’re struggling with. 

For what it’s worth, I think caring about the impact you have on others is the best possible place to come from as a person, so I don’t think you’re a lost cause. Best of luck to you in the future. 

I don’t want to unintentionally (or intentionally, for that matter) make anyone’s life worse, especially not that of people belonging to a group that already faces so many undeserved struggles in this world. That’s why I chose to write this, even if it may seem overly lengthy or not worth the effort to some.

Take care, and thanks for reading

Anony Mouse

[k-corner]

Ashes of Love: The Problem with the ‘Protagonists’ Actions and Characterization, and an In-Depth Look at their Concerning ‘Romance’ Part 2

This is a continuation from Part One. Feel free to head on over there to take a look.

Part Two: Issues with Characterization –

Some points mentioned here have already been lightly touched on in part one as they deal with the plot, but they’re going to be looked at more in a characterization sort of way and in a ‘how that comes across to the audience’.

Now, since Ashes of Love is a romance story, it’s natural to assume that there’s going to be some sort of meet-cute, some sort of flirting or courting stage and then some sort of getting together stage that might be accompanied by something a little more concrete physically like kissing or sex or what have you depending on the rating of the show and the image it’s trying to get across.

Now in Ashes of Love, the main two love interests are Xu Feng and Jin Mi, whose characterizations should have some sort of weight to them that allows for a long-standing love story to spring up from them. This can be seen in the ideas of ‘introvert meets extrovert’ or ‘opposites attract’ or ‘birds of a feather flock together’ or some other variation of what personality and characteristics that these characters have that draws them in and is supposed to draw in the audience as well.

Here is where I would say the weakest part of the entire story of Ashes of Love stands. Not in the sometimes dragging storylines that make up the 60+ episode season, but in the base understandings of the two main characters that we as the audience are supposed to root for.

Xu Feng – AKA The Sexual Predator:

One of my biggest pet peeves in a ‘romance’ drama is anytime the two main love interests have some sort of accident – trip and fall, stumble into each other, get pushed into the same small space, etc. – and ‘OMG! Somehow despite height differences and just a basic understanding of how gravity and momentum works’ they’ll fall into a sweet, gentle kiss or somehow just press their lips together and I guess we’re supposed to swoon at the audience at something that really doesn’t mean anything. The fact that no one smashed each other’s noses or foreheads or something is the more impressive moment being seen in that scenario.

I digress though, but unfortunately Ashes of Love has moments like this. Unfortunately it also has moments that are so much worse. Xu Feng takes the kissing and courting parts of the storyline and runs with them from eyeroll territory and into concerned side-eye country. There are several moments, especially early in the show, when Xu Feng chooses to press his luck with Jin Mi and come onto her in a sexual/kissing/pawing at her and starting to take off her clothes while she lays there and looks up at him almost uncomprehendingly sort of way. He’s putting it all out there and out on the line, but somehow he’s not able to catch onto the fact that Jin Mi isn’t picking it up or worse, he doesn’t care and continues to press because it’s what he wants/desires.

Xu Feng’s character is a mess of ‘but she didn’t say no’ and ‘I don’t care that she’s chosen someone else I know she loves me so I have to keep pushing’ and my absolute favorite ‘Uncle, be a bro and tie us together using your mortal love fate strings for no reason other than I want to go get it on with my brother’s fiancé while I pretend I’m doing it to protect her and not take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation but it’s okay because I swear we truly love each other even though she’s never said it because she can’t actually say it right now but it’s going to be just fine just you wait’.

This is also the character who – and I would call this scene a full on assault scene regardless of him stopping himself before he goes too far and I’ll explain why – that got drunk and practically threw Jin Mi onto the bed before climbing over her and pulling at her clothes while she just laid there and blinked up at him with a kind of look that seemed innocent, uncomprehending and trusting. She had no clue what was happening in that moment as he pushes his luck. I’ll give – he stops himself though, as he should but not for the reasons he should. Why does he stop? Because at this point he thinks that there’s a possibility that she’s his sister. If he hadn’t thought that, would he have pushed harder? Would he have gone further? Who knows.

On top of creepy entitled behaviors that he shows to Jin Mi, he also takes pleasure in being unnecessarily cruel to her. The little back and forth in the Heaven Realm when he turned her into all of the various items to ‘teach her a lesson’ was not cute to me. It was borderline sadistic and just downright fucked up.

Leaving Jin Mi behind, Xu Feng still falls short when it comes to his characterization. He’s portrayed as a kind of Gary Stu. He’s the best at everything. The most powerful. He’s unchallenged by any other character – look at how the entire demon army flees before him! Look at how undefeatable he is in battle! Look at how easily he talks back to his mother with no repercussions! Look at how easily he ignores any possible feelings his brother might have and just keeps on pushing! Look at how every other side character prefers him! What a stud! (note sarcasm). Honestly Xu Feng is a character with no obstacles. The only one he has is that he is in love with his brother’s fiancé and his brother won’t give her up to him because he loves her too. How dare he! He’s evil incarnate! (note sarcasm again)

Plus, we have the narrative trying to portray Xu Feng as a supposedly moral and upright character in contrast to Run Yu who is a schemer. There’s just one problem. It’s easy to be lighthearted and benevolent and chill when you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life, when you’ve clearly never been told no before and when the roulette wheel of fate always spins in your favor. What hardships has Xu Feng truly had to overcome? Everyone loves him and he is the Greatest at Everything™. We see his narrow world view though and how only what happens to him matters when he deals with the information about the Heavenly Empress’s tyrannical torture and killing fests. He doesn’t care that Run Yu has just lost his mother and has been tortured for the survivors he wants to talk about him and get Jin Mi. He doesn’t care that his mother murdered thousands of people because the Heavenly Emperor couldn’t keep it in his pants, how dare Run Yu disrespect her. Who cares if Xu Feng is the one who started them all down this path of misery by refusing to stop chasing after a woman who told him to stop and just kept pushing until he eventually won, he’s going to feel like he’s righteous enough to tell his brother to be alone for eternity as a price to be paid for what’s happened while Xu Feng goes to find a way to flounce off with Jin Mi and live happily ever after. Who cares if Xu Feng stripped Sui He of her powers and her sanity and threw her out to be tortured and eaten by demons without a trial or anything like that, everyone cheered him and he got the girl! Clearly he was right!

Jin Mi – AKA Born Sexy Yesterday:

Jin Mi’s whole characters storyline and plot depends and hangs onto the fact that Jin Mi is ‘naïve and sheltered’ and that she doesn’t have the ability to either consent or not consent to a male leads love. It’s because she doesn’t know what that is and can’t recognize these weird things he does! Like kiss her? Like start pulling off her clothes? Why would she say no? It’s all innocent fun!

Oh but wait, now she’s going to fall in love with this person because…because he’s constantly there and pawing at her regardless of what she says or does or how she reacts! Yay! True Love FTW! But it’s all okay because it might be that she was in love with him the whole time but it’s a good thing that he recognized it because she can’t figure out her own feelings and wrapping her mind around complicated things like love is just too hard so all of his attentions are okay somehow even though they were still done without consent but that’s okay because deep down she truly loved him. [flips a table in the distance].

Unfortunately Jin Mi’s whole story is all about her lack of agency or characters taking it away. Her mother gives her the pill. Her father sells her away before he even knows that she’s been born in an engagement to the Heaven Realm. Xu Feng continuously ignores what she says and pushes himself into her sphere and hounds her over and over again. Run Yu restores the pill and later holds her captive in the Heaven Realm. The Moon Immortal and Yan You literally turn her into a puppet to put her in wedding clothes and shove her at Xu Feng without her permission. How is any of this okay? Jin Mi needs to get the fuck out.

Plus, the story never seems to understand the limits of the pill. She can feel love, just not romantic love because she feels sibling/friendship love for her cactus friend and mourns her death. She acknowledges that she likes people like Run Yu and understands the concept of marriage and mothers and fathers despite somehow not understanding that Xu Feng is a boy and has different equipment. At certain points her level of ditzy and uncomprehending everything and anything was baffling for a woman who is thousands of years old. Sure, she lived sheltered in the Flower Realm so that’s why she got confused at a dick and wanted to cut it off…. but wait…there are men in the Flower Realm which means she would have come to understand the differences. A child catches onto them pretty quickly and that’s within two to five years. Why can Jin Mi not figure that out after four or five thousand?

This all adds up to the most irritating moment of characterization for Jin Mi. Wherein she decides based off of information that she has – before it’s verified or investigated into – to kill Xu Feng with her own hands. This is an action that Jin Mi chooses to take. Run Yu does not push her into this. Run Yu does not tell her to do this. He does not force her to kill Xu Feng. Later though, because of her guilt she throws the responsibility for her actions onto him and blames him and tears him down because of her own guilt. This is not okay for the supposedly main female lead. It’s not okay for anyone to demonize someone else and leave them holding the bag for something they had no control over. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. It sucks, but you did it. He didn’t. Blaming him and saying that he doesn’t feel/understand love crossed a line after everything.

 The extra characterizations of the other main characters I’m not going to go into but I will sum up as this:

Supposedly Smart Characters Doing Stupid/Crazy/Out of Character/WTF Things Because of ‘Plot’:

Sui He – Bechdel Tests Worst Nightmare AKA Female Character Only Exists To Further Male Story And Fawn Over Him.

Run Yu – But By God He’s Pretty When He Suffers AKA Actually a Disney Prince Cast Into Role Of Sea Witch For Reasons Unknown.

Tu Yao – Obvious Over The Top Bad Guy Is Obvious And Will Never Let You Forget It

Tai Wei – Satan’s Butthole.

[hoodie-lover]

Conspiring

Nightmare’s tentacles were curled up. He was looking down at his brother, Dream was bruised and beaten, his bones broken and cracked. Killer, Horror, and Dust were behind their master, glaring daggers and brandishing their weapons. Dream was chained up by the wrists.

“Look what we have here~. The guardian of all positivity, writhing in pain at my feet.” Nightmare mocked, raising Dream’s chin to have their eyes meet.

“B-burn in h-hell...” Dream muttered, jerking his head away, flinching in pain.

“Tsk tsk tsk, why must you be difficult Dreamy?” Nightmare said as his boys left the room, his mind control working wonders.

“Because you insist we keep this charade up even when they literally can’t do a thing about it.” Dream said as the chains fell off his wrists.

“Well, I think it completes the charade.” Nightmare said as he helped his brother up.

“You just like being in charge of a band of villains as you defeat your enemy.” Dream said as Nightmare healed his wounds, as if they were never there.

“How long should I stay here? Last time it was a month, you got so much negativity from my friends I was a little scared.” Dream chuckled as he remembered the tears of joy they had shed when he was found, such a surge of power, he loved it.

“Maybe 2 weeks. We can rough you up a lot more though, maybe even send a ransom note.” Nightmare entertained and Dream’s eyes glowed.

“Yes! Maybe a video of my poor and broken soul begging for help and mercy will get their souls crying. Then they can rescue me and we’ll all be happy.” Dream said already drooling at the thought.

“Yeah. But what would we even ask for?” Nightmare thought and Dream had an idea.

“An AU! One where you can out everyone through endless misery over and over and over again! A timeline where Flowey reigns supreme with no escape. His sadistic joy would be wonderful and the misery of everyone else would be more than enough for you.” Dream suggested and Nightmare gave him an evil grin.

“Sometimes I wonder why the villagers thought I was the evil twin.” Nightmare said and Dream cackled.

“They were blind idiots that were concerned only for themselves.” Dream said as he gave his brother a light punch in the arm.

“Assault of your captor?! How dare you!” Nightmare said as he grabbed Dream by his arm and broke it.

“Oh no! Ink will rescue me I’m sure of it you pure evil bastard!” Dream said, trying his best not to laugh.

“It seems I need to, once again, teach you how things work here.” Nightmare said, breaking both of Dream’s legs in one move.

“Mercy please!” Dream begged, not even flinching at the pain.

“Never you happy piece of filth.” Nightmare said, chaining up Dream again, ripping his clothes and taking his crown.

“Maybe I should crack your skull. That would be scary for Ink.” Nightmare entertained and Dream nodded.

“Alright, then I’ll get Dust in here for the video.” Nightmare said as he drilled a hole into Dream’s head with a tentacle. Golden blood spilled from the wound as Dream shifted in slight discomfort.

Dust entered the room, he was mumbling things to the phantom Papyrus he saw. “Yes Pap, yes Pap, yes Pap, yes Pap, yes Pap, yes Pap...” over and over again, his fingers twitching with every word.

“You like the crazy ones don’t you brother?” Dream said as he began to cry fake tears when Dust put a knife to his throat.

“Shut up.” Nightmare said as he opened a two way viewing portal in front of himself.

“Hello Inky boy! How are you? Well, Dream is doing just wonderful!” Nightmare said catching the creator off guard.

“What did you do to him?” Ink demanded, his eyes turning red as he armed his brush.

“Nothing much. Just had a little fun that’s all.” He said as he turned the portal toward Dream, who was sobbing with all his heart.

“HELP! PLEASE INK HELP ME! PLEASE-” He said but a swift slice across his face, all too close to his eye, he shut up. Dust cackled as he licked the golden blood from the wound.

“Dust.” Nightmare boomed and the insane skeleton stopped moving.

“What do you want Nightmare?” Ink asked, seething.

“A universe. Where I can make others as miserable as I want, with no consequences. A universe where Flowey reigns supreme, unchallenged and undefeated forever, where I can influence his actions and choices.” Nightmare asked, and Ink gasped.

“NO!” Ink screamed.

“I’ll give you two weeks to decide.” Nightmare said as the portal faded.

Nightmare fell to the floor laughing as Dust left the room. Dream soon followed, their laughs cold and cruel, like nails on a chalkboard.

“You were perfect!” Nightmare said as he healed and freed his twin.

“So were you. Did you make Dust lick my cut, or is he crazier than I thought?” Dream asked, and Nightmare gasped in fake shock.

“I have standards. Of course I made him.” Nightmare said as he grabbed Dream’s hand and lead him out of the dungeon.

Nightmare’s goons were sitting on the couch staring off into space, lost in their own personal hells. Dream was always creeped out by their blank faces, how he could feel the negativity radiating off of them, he longed to see them smile, but he knew that Nightmare needed them.

“I’ll let you use them while you’re here. Two weeks ain’t gonna do much and if I get that AU, well, then I can set them free from my spell.” Nightmare said and Dream jumped for joy.

“Thank you!” Dream cried out as he unleashed a yellow aura, in response, the three skeletons fell to their knees and gasped for breath.

“W-what happened?” Killer asked and backed away from Dream when he saw him.

“Where are you going?” Dream asked, Horror and Dust realizing who was there and backing away from his as well.

“What’s wrong guys? Don’t you want to be happy?” Dream asked, smiling wide as he pushed his aura harder on the trembling skeletons.

They screamed as their heads felt like exploding, empty laughs escaping their mouths as they writhed in pain.

“Stop resisting. You’ve been sad for so long, why don’t you want to be happy?” Dream asked.

Eventually, after a few minutes of torture, the three of them were limp on the ground. Dream had propped them up against each other’s backs. Killer, Horror, and Dust’s eyes were yellow, one of them laughing every now and then. Dream was incredibly happy, with a snap of his fingers, the three of them stood up.

“Hi.” They all said in unison, smiles plastered on their faces.

Nightmare was always intrigued by Dream’s aura, he knew it was painful, and the effects were something he was creeped out by. Though he loved seeing his twin use every ounce of his power on people, it was so interesting to see the beloved Dream, just as crazy as he was.

Dream, for the rest of the day, pushed more and more of his aura into them, gaining more power than he lost. When he had to turn in, the three skeletons were practically foaming at the mouth and clinging to Dream with all their strength. Dream cut the effect instantly, and they collapsed.

“You monster-” Killer shouted by he had no chance to charge at the guardian as Nightmare wrapped the three of them in his tentacles and put them to sleep.

“I think I might do that with a few random outcodes.” Dream said and Nightmare looked at his twin as if he was suggested the earth was flat.

“Why are you surprised?” Dream asked, genuinely curious as to why his brother would be surprised at his thought.

~~Time Skip~~

Ink had given in and made Nightmare’s AU. It hurt his nonexistent soul to do something that Dream would hate, but even more negativity would spread if he didn’t. When he saw Dream again, the slightly taller skeleton look near death, breaks and bruises all over his bones. Tears were running down his face as they hugged and Nightmare walked away, cocky as ever.

“I-Ink...” Dream huffed, but Ink kept him quiet.

“Wait until we get to the Doodle Sphere.” Ink said, picking up the now sobbing skeleton bridal style.

When Ink arrived with Dream, everyone was so happy. Dream was sobbing with relief and Ink had to drag him to his bed so he could rest.

“Nightmare really did a number on him huh.” Blue said, looking at the door.

“I hate that bastard. How can Dream still think he’s redeemable?” Red, Underfell!Sans grumbled.

“Stockholm syndrome and the love of brothers. Dream’s also told me he feels responsible for what Nightmare went through and became, so that’s also a big factor.” Ink responded, and Geno who was also in the room nodded his head.

“I just hope he’ll be alright, he’s gone through so much, it’s a wonder he can stay so happy and hopeful all the time.” That got everyone agreeing, unaware of what Dream was actually doing in his room.

He was looking through the list of outcodes, looking at who had the worst lives, and how he could make them as happy as possible. He had to suppress an evil laugh as he heard his friends talk of Stockholm syndrome. They were so stupid.