#but otherwise please forget there are genders existing in gameing spaces

[a-s-levynn]

The fact that every single time i join a new voicechat someone confuses me for a 16yo boy in the middle of their voice dropping, and the utter bafflement they express when they learn that i'm 28 and a female is never not going to be funny for me.

[thegreatyin]

~ ✧ ~ COMMISSION INFORMATION ~ ✧ ~

Hello! I’m Yin, he/she/they, and welcome to my part of the hellsite, except with a lot more angels and monsters running amok. I’m primarily a hobbyist artist and writer, though I do aspire to get a proper job in either (or both!) professions someday. I’m a big fan of video games, cartoons, and just generally all that cringe fail nerdy stuff. If you want a more detailed introduction including nitty-gritty boundary information, links to and information about personal projects, and what few other social medias I have, you can find all of that stuff just below the cut. You don't have to read all of it, but it's all there if you want to see it.

Don't be afraid to tell me if I need to warn (or be reminded to warn) for triggering content, I am always happy to do so!

~ ✧ ~

~ Do not interact: ~

The title of this section is a joke. I don't actually have a DNI. What I will lay down is a before you follow:

• I am not comfortable with sharing my personal information on any public social media! Please respect this. I am comfortable disclosing that I am professionally diagnosed with autism and ADHD, and identify... somewhere on the LGBTQ spectrum in both orientation and gender. I'm still trying to figure out where, mind you, but definitely somewhere!!

• I am very violently queer and use the word very liberally as a form of self-identification. If this is a serious, major problem for you, I'd recommend you just block this blog and move on.

• This blog is a SFW space and, while I may reblog or post the occasional dirty or suggestive joke, I tend to avoid any and all truly explicit content. Blogs of any caliber are welcome to interact, just be aware my own space will always remain PG-13 at worst. This rule varies when it comes to artistic nudity- generally I will avoid reblogging it here, but if I ever do so it will be tagged appropriately.

• My official stance on any and all shipping discourse is that I prefer to not get personally engaged and keep my own opinions to myself. While I do have personal takes, viewpoints, and to an extent a clearly-defined side on the whole thing, I am not privy to publicly sharing any of these and will ignore any and all inquiries about the topic. I would greatly prefer to be treated as a neutral or otherwise outside party by both sides of the debate, because I do not wish to get involved in any discourse, and earnestly request that everyone respect that to the best of their ability. I'm just a simple hobbit in my own corner of the internet, and boy am I not willing to carry the ring to Mordor anytime soon.

• I write and draw what I want to write and draw. I am an insufferable multishipper and a majority of my works deal with incredibly heavy and graphic topics. These will always be tagged and properly warned for. I will never drop something violent or gory on anyone's dashboards without the appropriate content warnings and disclaimers. As stated near the top of this post, if I ever forget anything, please feel free to remind me about it!!! Other's comfort will always take priority over my own hubris.

• I greatly enjoy eldritch/biblical angel aesthetics and religious horror themes, and they play a prominent role in a good chunk of my personal works. Similarly; body horror, existential dread, various kinds of abuse, struggles with nihilism, and mental health issues of all kinds are either common or at the very least notably existent in virtually all settings I create. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I would earnestly recommend blocking most of the tags relating to my work.

• This should go without saying, but this blog is open to all sorts of identities and peoples regardless of origin. Short of literally being a crime, I am happy to let people identify however they wish. If you disagree with this statement, please be aware that I block liberally and I block often.

~ ✧ ~

~ Personal Projects and Settings ~

Acts, Promises, and Faith (commonly abbreviated to "APF"): My main ongoing original fiction project, with a clearly defined cast and setting and (almost!) a clearly defined overarching plot. Set on an artificially magic-infused planet known simply as Mimue, it follows a catgirl shapeshifter as she struggles to deal with love, loss, the baby(?) eldritch spider that crashed through her roof last night, and the most powerful person to ever exist taking a personal interest in her journey to bring that spider home. The main story is not currently published, and will likely not be for years, but I do hope to make it into a webcomic someday. Or a book. Or a game. Or just... something.

Outside of the main protagonist quartet, the setting as a whole has an abundance of side characters (and not so side characters), most of which feature in some shape or form in the official stories I have published on Ao3! These side stories also contain major insights into the lore and overall status of the world at large, and I always have ideas in the back of my mind for how I can make more stuff like this in the future. Just make sure to read the content warnings on all published works, and know that none of those were published in anything close to chronological order 👉😎👉

It is also important to note that you should treat all of those aforementioned stories as you would expanded universe material for an already-existing show or franchise- with the incredibly notable exception of one reoccurring character in particular, a majority of the cast given focus in the Ao3 fics do not star or otherwise provide a major role in the plot as it's written right now. I'm essentially constructing this universe backwards by first introducing everyone to Glup Shitto instead of Luke Skywalker. But that's okay, because now you can have both as your blorbos in the end! Everyone wins!

I am always accepting asks and inquiries about this world, because I love it to death and I love my blorbos to death and Rigel is my favorite character I've ever made ever.

Overall genre: Urban... ish fantasy character drama, leaning slightly towards low fantasy in general. The technology level in most of the world is equivalent to America in the early 60s, and magic originates from an outside force/gift in this setting, but is also pretty much seamlessly integrated into society by the modern day. While the story and themes are closer to darker melodrama than light-hearted action adventure, the world is distinctly not grimdark and the plot is mainly motivated by and through character actions and beliefs throughout the narrative.

Notable Content Warnings: Depression, allusions to suicide, drowning, burning alive, occasional gore, PTSD and C-PTSD, unreality and hallucinations from the prospective of the primary protagonist, body horror

Main Tag: #apf for general content, #apf info for more specific information about the world (these posts are not up-to-date most of the time, upfront worldbuilding questions are always preferred!)

Where to read it?: The APF anthology collection on Ao3 currently contains every published story I've ever written in ideal reading order! You definitely don't have to follow it in the slightest, it's just a suggestion due to how many fics there actually are. This setting also has its very own discord server, but for security reasons if anyone wants to enter it they'll have to DM me personally. Go on, give it a shot, I certainly won't mind!

~ ✧ ~

"Above": A work-in-progress name for a mostly sandbox (no clearly defined plot) setting about various gods, angels, and demons getting up to mischief across time and space. Dramatically darker in setting and tone than APF, and far less grounded to boot.

The world of "Above" is currently split between two eras- the "past" era, where a newly-born Seraph named Reguel tries their best to follow the wishes of their god, and the "present" era, where the King of Demons campaigns to end a millennium of torment from his cruel patron deity. At its core, it's a science fantasy setting that ends up focusing 99% of its attention on the duo of god-created fantasy races and very little on the already scarce sci-fi elements. Outside of lore about the gods and their creations, the rest of the world is merely a backdrop to demon and angel tomfoolery. To this effect, the actual "main cast" features funny jesters, friendly demon kings that use emoticons every five sentences, murderous malewives intensely in love with their giant goth girlfriends, and one (1) very sexy butler. Truly, some treats for everyone to enjoy.

Also, demons in this setting are floating mood ring space cannibals. That's really just something you have to experience for yourself to understand.

While there is an ongoing askblog based on this world, the events of that blog are not strictly canonical and will probably never be declared as such for spoiler-related reasons I cannot get into... but I'm also not saying the blog isn't canon. Just like APF, I'm always happy to receive and answer asks about this setting, so feel free to send any when you feel like it!

Overall Genre: The past era is a fantastical tragedy, while the present era is largely a nobledark adventure story. The world of the past is seen only through the eyes of an unreliable narrator, while the present is told through many different perspectives across many different species and locations.

Notable Content Warnings: Everything in the book. Psychosis, self harm, cannibalism, gore, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, C-PTSD, parental abuse, parental neglect, abusive relationships... this is a dead dove setting, through and through, and it does not pull its punches. Particularly in the past era, but the whole world in general is a dove actively dying inside a paper bag.

Main Tag: #above.

Where to read it?: As this is largely a sandbox freeform setting, there's far fewer defined ways to access information about the setting and lore. The most notable proper story is God Have Mercy on Them, God Have Mercy on Me, a work-in-progress epic set in the past era that describes Reguel's early life and the choices that led them to where (and who) they are today. It has an absurdly slow update schedule because I write in my free time and it's insanely long, but many of its twists and turns are truly something else. One day I will finish it, and on that day it will be my magnum fucking opus. Probably. Maybe. Who knows, really.

The other option is @xx-hail2theking-xx, a currently ongoing roleplay blog centered around King Paimak and his merry band of cannibals. Unlike all other blogs I've managed in the past, it has a clearly defined act structure and is planned to end after a certain point, but that point is still far off. You don't necessarily need to read through the entire blog to jump into the plot at this point in time, but it certainly wouldn't hurt!

Also I've worked on it for like a year and made a bunch of art and writing just for it and it's kind of just my homemade self-imposed summer art project now. In a wacky demon sort of way.

~ ✧ ~

The Omniverse: Technically not just my project, but deserves to be included here anyway! This is a set of Undertale Multiverse roleplay blogs I participate in during my off time, although currently they're on indefinite hiatus due to unfortunate life and scheduling reasons.

The simplest way to explain the overarching plot- the very loose, very improv-based plot- of both blogs I run is essentially that there are two concurrent stories running back-to-back. In one, a recovering drug addict struggles with terrifying concepts like "having morals" and "caring about people", while in other the self-proclaimed King of Darkness and Everything Evil has to contest with a madman that wants to wipe out all of reality and build it anew and has already done so once before.

Oh, and the recoverer is the brother of the King's spouse. There's a truckload of complicated roleplay lore associated with each and every character from this setting, and it's almost impossible for me to single-handedly cover it all- especially considering I don't own half of the major cast.

Nothing is currently being done with them right now, but rest assured at any given moment I am rotating Caeru in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

Overall Genre: Darkly comedic character introspection drama, and grimdark action adventure with a heavy focus on worldbuilding and characters.

Notable Content Warnings: Addiction, drug abuse, excessive violence, PTSD, C-PTSD, self harm, suicidal tendencies and thoughts... okay, maybe this one is kind of a dying dove too.

Main Tag: #rp stuff dwbi for primarily general RP content, while #hag for Hood and Greylu's verse in particular (the King of Darkness' verse)

Where to read it?: @official-saltbag and @darkness-regins respectively, however the quality of my old (and I do mean old) writing found on these blogs is inconsistent and contains many plot points and characterization choices I'm not sure hold up well today. While I hold no lingering resentment or specific apprehension about the blogs in general, I would much rather someone read my current work if they are genuinely interested in my writing style... and also they both completely lack a chrono tag, so good luck properly reading through them without a saintly amount of patience.

~ ✧ ~

Mistakes, Curses, and Mockeries: APF's semi-sequel, but only in the sense that Deltarune is technically a sequel to Undertale. Set in the same world and continuity as APF, but decades into the future- with a completely separate cast and story structure to boot.

One year after the death of his family at the hands of a mysterious robotic "red devil", a young noble named Equuleus comes to the horrifying realization that he's stuck in a year-spanning timeloop. And in every loop, no matter what, widespread disaster and chaos runs rampant by year's end. Potentially at the very same hands that led his family to ruin.

And thus Leus makes a vow; Force a future where everybody lives, or die trying.

...naturally, it turns out "die trying" can be taken very literally in this exact scenario. Things only spiral from there.

Overall Genre: Fantasy mystery adventures, with a touch of character drama and time shenanigans for spice. Steampunk-magitek-medieval-fantasy mixing pot of a setting with the occasional downright cyperpunk jumpscare. Keeps threatening to become a psychological horror and I keep having to bat it with a stick so it chills the heck out already. (It is doing the exact opposite of chilling the heck out.)

Notable Content Warnings: Major character death, dehumanization, dissociation, existential terror about forgetting everything that you are, insufferable nihilists, potentially even more insufferable fatalists, colonialism

Main Tag: #mcm.

Where to read it?: well first you get a shovel and second you start applying it directly to my skull to get the brain out for advanced noclip telepathy strats... is what I'd usually say, but there's actually a singular fic set in this setting now! I know, I'm shocked too.

~ ✧ ~

~ Contact information / socials ~

Tumblr is and will forever be my main social media platform, and I rarely consistently maintain accounts on other sites. You can, however, nonetheless find me below:

• @TheGreatWritingYin on Ao3

• @luminxlumina on Twitter

• @TheGreatYin on Cohost

• @TheGreatYin on Artfight

• @TheGreatFrostingWind on Flight Rising

• @TheGreatYin on Pixel Cat's End

• @Yinsie on Fallen London

• ...and that's literally just it!

If you successfully scrolled and read to the bottom of this, congratulations! Have a celebratory cookie. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ 🍪

[infinitysgrace]

I would love to hear your thoughts on how the hunger games fans perceive Rue, but only if you want to

woo boy, this one's a lot

This ramble references topics such as: Racism and Misogynoir

If anyone is going to come into my ask box asking why I'm bringing race and gender into this please consider not doing that actually.

There's a lot ahead, so pace yourself please.

[TL;DR: A lot of people revealed their unconscious bias towards black characters, specifically black child characters, specifically black girl characters, and how they're expected to be or behave in media.]

So the fan perception of Rue is very interesting when you look at how much it changed between before her movie casting was revealed, and afterwards, and if you were in the fandom space when the movie came out you know exactly what I mean.

A lot of people were shocked that the girl who was literally black in the book was black in the movie for who knows what reason and some people flat out stated that her being black made them unable to sympathize or care about the fact that she was murdered. However, this post isn't about them.

This is about the people who weren't blatantly racist toward a book/movie character. Cos like... something very much changed after the casting among the people who, like, were shocked but otherwise "didn't care" for lack of better phrasing because as someone who watched it happen in real time it's... definitely something worth mentioning.

Cos like, the thing with Rue's death in the books that tripped up *cough* some people and caused the shock in the fandom is that in Katniss's internal dialogue Rue is compared to Prim, Katniss's little sister, and people took that as a comparison of their looks instead of what it actually was: a moment of reflection and empathy from Katniss because Rue was an innocent child who'd just turned twelve and immediately got hit with essentially a death sentence. She is in a position where Katniss's own sister would have been in had Katniss not volunteered. The odds were in fact not in Rue's favor, and Katniss was aware of that.

I kinda doubt this was planned on Suzanne Collins's part tbh, but given that THG is a commentary on media presentation and preparation, Rue's existence did a good job of making people irl's internal biases obvious based on how tragedies and injustices happening to black children, specifically black girls are usually framed by the media (that's a post for another time). Essentially certain people only felt the full impact of Rue's death and what it meant when they were assuming that she looked like them, and the fact that she doesn't affected peoples ability to care about her.

When people were reading the book they weren't able to detach themselves from the reality of how unfair and tragic Rue's death was because the story is told from Katniss's perspective, and we were supposed to feel what she felt and remember Rue as she did and she wouldn't let us forget about Rue and so we didn't. The same cannot be said for the movie and that made the difference.

Long story short, peoples unconscious biases won out in the empathy department when the movie came out. The movie said "you're supposed to care about her the same way you would have cared had Prim be the one in her shoes" and a LOT of people took one look at her said "no I can't do that, how can you expect that from me?" regardless of whether they were hateful towards her casting or not and I just think that says a lot about a lot of the fandom.

[headoverheelsforramsey]

Hello, hello! This week, we are going on a little:

Home Tour!

Notes: Answer the following with pictures (dialogue from your characters is optional!). Collages are highly encouraged if you want to answer a question with multiple pictures because tumblr mobile only allows 10 total pics. Otherwise, tumblr on a desktop lets you add multiple pictures (non-beta)!

For both:

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Living room and home office (if any)?

Kitchen and dining room?

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Other rooms?

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Super super late to this, because of my stupid exam but now we are here so let's go! 💃🏽🏠

A/N : I am placing this two years and seven months after the wedding, because I HC Ethan and Meera staying at Ethan's apartment for two years after the wedding and they only start house hunting when they have the baby talk and start trying for a baby. So technically not newlyweds anymore. Now let's get started! ✨

Meera opens the door and greets Bree.

Meera : Hii Bree, welcome to our humble abode.

Bree (chuckles) : This place is anything but humble. I hope I am not causing much trouble.

Meera : Absolutely not. Who else is going to make me feel like a youtuber?

Both laugh, Ethan joins and greets Bree.

Bree : Congratulations on the good news Dr. Ramsey. How far are y'all?

Ethan : Thank you Bree. It's been 3 months already.

Meera (cradling her small bump) : Yup one trimester down two more to go.

Ethan (kissing her forehead) : And then there will be a mini version of you running around these halls.

Meera : Nope it's gonna be a mini you.

The couple shares a look as if challenging each other.

Meera : Fine, Bree, whose team are you on? Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?

Bree : I am happy with either because at the end I'll be interviewing him or her too.

The three of them share a laugh.

Bree : Let's get started, shall we?

Ethan : Sure.

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Front :

Meera : We were looking for something modern yet chic, something that is totally us. I fell in love with the design whereas Ethan was in total awe of the open space and glass doors. Needless to say our heart was stuck on this no matter how many more houses we visited.

Backyard :

Ethan : The backyard also doubles up as the garden but it's not quite completed yet.

Meera : Yes it's been two months since we moved, and we haven't been able to work on the garden because of work and the pregnancy. Ethan : But we want to build a garden with a tree house and maybe some swings.

Meera (too excited) : Ohh swings! Yes please add it onto the list. Why didn't I think of it before?

Pool :

Meera : Definitely my favorite part!

Ethan : She is a water baby through and through so that's no surprise.

Meera : Don't act like you don't appreciate me in a swimsuit, Ramsey (winks)

Ethan : There is no denying that.

Living room and home office (if any)?

Living room :

Ethan : Meera was hell bent on having an L-shaped couch.

Meera : Those things are so bougie I had to have one because now I can finally afford one. But yeah the living room is so relaxing with a beautiful view of the outside.

Home office :

Meera : Honestly speaking, I do not understand the utility of a home office, I didn't understand back at his apartment neither do I understand now. If I am supposed to work from home I can do that on the couch or on my bed or even better on the daybeds by the pool.

Ethan (shaking his head) : You'll get it darling. When you start your maternity leave I'll see how you make zoom calls with the pool as your background.

Meera shrugs.

Kitchen and dining room?

Meera : This part was all Ethan so I'll let him do the talking.

Ethan (proudly) : A Poggenpohl kitchen with a granite-topped island adds an ultramodern touch. Glass shelves display colorful glassware convenient to the wet bar. A translucent sliding glass door below the shelves hides the more utilitarian gadgets. And finally playful mod pendant lights seem to levitate over the dining table, which is meant to resemble a river running through the woods.

Meera : You sure you didn't miss your true calling as an interior designer babe?

Ethan (smirks) : Nope, just the fact that I tend to excel at everything I do, Rookie.

Meera : And that makes you 10 times hotter!

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Master bedroom :

Meera : The bedroom has a different color scheme and tone from the rest of the house because I wanted it to stand out and break the monotone.

Ethan : Again the chandelier was Meera's opinion.

Meera : Finding common ground between his minimalistic taste and mine was difficult but we made it through.

Master Bathroom :

Ethan : Meera I don't think it was necessary to bring Bree in here.

Meera : It was absolutely necessary! Just look at this tub Bree! The bubbles and champagne dates we have here are a total hit.

Guest rooms :

Ethan : We have two guest rooms and both are styled the same way, but unfortunately we haven't had any guests yet. 

Meera : Is it unfortunate Dr. Ramsey? Bryce is just a call away from crashing here. 

Ethan (pinching the bridge of his nose) : Anyone but Lahela.

Meera : We haven't thought about the baby's room yet. But we have the nursery now. 

Ethan : Yes, maybe we'll turn the nursery into a bedroom or one of the guest rooms in a few years. Let's see.

Nursery : 

Meera : This was completed just yesterday hence the delay in the interview, Bree. 

Ethan : We decided to keep the gender of the baby a surprise so we went with a gender neutral nursery that matches the colour scheme of the house. 

Meera : Also because Ethan Ramsey would rather die than paint the walls of his house pink and blue. 

Ethan (rolls eyes) 

Other rooms?

Home library :

Meera (takes in the smell of books) : Better known as my safe haven. 

Ethan : This was absolutely non-negotiable for Meera. 

Meera : We both own a lot of books and the collection keeps on increasing now with the baby incoming. And look at this reading space. It's from my dreams. 

Ethan : This is tucked away in a far corner of the house and is the most serene place around here. Once, I returned home from the hospital and called out to Meera a hundred times, she didn't answer, I started panicking and then found her silently sitting here in her own world. 

Meera : If I ever go missing please check here before running to the police, because once I am in here I forget the existence of the world.

Bree picks up "Peppa pig's super noisy Sound Book" which was kept on a thick medical journal with a smile. 

Ethan feels embarrassed but Meera laughs. 

Meera : Yes these are the new ones in our collection. Ethan was reading it to the baby before you arrived. 

Home Bar : 

Ethan : The wine cellar grew into a home mini bar because we had this unused space left. 

Meera : He loves showing this and his collection off. 

Ethan : Excuse me! If I remember correctly your friends were very impressed as well. 

Meera : True that. Bryce went bat shit crazy during the housewarming party. He said he felt he got back his bartending days.

Ethan (proudly) : And Jackie's exact words for that evening's toast was "to hell with Donahue's" 

Meera : Yeah yeah, you did a great job honey. Also the more surfaces the better for us. 

Ethan : Keep it PG for the love of God. 

Meera (shrugs) : Pregnancy hormones. 

Bree (points) : And that? 

Ethan (facepalms) : The only thing that doesn't match with the vibe here.

Meera : Nonsense! It was a housewarming gift from my friends and I absolutely love it. Ethan just feels it is a cheaper and juvenile version of his favourite game, soccer. But don't worry Bree, I'll get him to play someday. 

Ethan (smirk) : I would very much like to see you try Dr. Ramsey-Bose.

Meera : And I'll see how you say no when your son asks. 

Ethan : It's gonna be a daughter. 

Meera : We'll see. 

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

Ethan : For the majority of my life home for me was a structure of bricks and cement with a ceiling but Meera was the one who brought all the love and light and showed me what a real home felt like. So for me, my home is where my heart is and for this lifetime it's kept safe with this gorgeous woman whom I fortunately call my wife. 

Silence lasts for a couple of minutes then Meera snorts. 

Meera (drying her eye) : Damn you pregnancy hormones, I am not even wearing waterproof mascara. It was super cheesy Ethan, a non pregnant me would have definitely called you out on your cheese but this pregnant Meera has to agree with you. Even a stable is my dream home if I have my dream husband with me. (she kisses Ethan) but I wouldn't mind a Jacuzzi, a home theatre, a game room (laughing)

Ethan (an easy smile on his face) : Always knew you were in it because of the money Bose. 

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Meera : The library. Just him reading to our unborn child like he isn't already the most perfect man in the world. 

Ethan (a very satisfied smile on his face) : First I am very surprised that you kept it PG. So the obvious answer is the bedroom but other than that, the patio, which is not a room though.

Ethan : Meera has a slight deficiency in vitamin D so to avoid complications, we spend a lot of time here in the sun. We play board games, read and even discuss work here sometimes.  

Meera : Ooh yes! This was another great investment and a great way to utilise the humongous outdoor space we have.  

Ethan : I hope you had fun Bree. Thank you so much for doing this. 

A quick shoutout to @a-crepusculo and @jamespotterthefirst who came to my rescue when  I couldn't add more than 10 pics. Also thank you Bree for doing this you are a star and an angel. 💜

Tagging my usual : @starrystarrytrouble @mm2305 @charisworld @choicesfanaf @potionsprefect @genevievemd  @shanzay44 @little-flowers-on-heaven @schnitzelbutterfingers  @coffeeheartaddict  @gryffindordaughterofathena @chemist-ana @adiehardfan @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @natureblooms24 @mainstreetreader @izzyourresidentlawyer @a-crepusculo @quixoticdreamer16 @starryeyedrookie @barbean

+ @openheartfanfics

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. And if you want to sit out only the answers to the ask games hit me up too. There won't be any hard feelings. I promise. 💜

[stargazetheseries]

OPEN CASTING CALL FOR STARGAZE: “THE PILOT” EPISODE & TRAILER VISIT: https://stargazetheseries.com/casting-call/ FOR DETAILS OR READ BELOW: A Borken Creative Production Sept 27, 2021 STARGAZE is a queer campy sci-fi adventure short-form adventure series intended for OTT. Executive Producers: Jill Golick, Carrie Cutforth Director: Regan Latimer Writer: Carrie Cutforth Union: ACTRA TORONTO (NEW MEDIA) Shoot: The pilot will begin shooting for 5 to 6 days between October 25-Nov 17th, 2021 Location: Toronto STORYLINE: A disparate group of rookie oddballs join an elite squad commissioned to save the Queerverse (from itself) only to discover the STARGAZE program is a sham make-work initiative to keep the crew from rocking the boat by sending them out on a fool’s quest (led by two elder queer chaperones who despise each other). Think: A 2SLGBTQIA+ The Facts Of Life meets The Breakfast Club in space! *BIPOC STRONGLY ENCOURAGED TO APPLY **MUST BE 18+ TO SUBMIT EVEN IF CHARACTER IS LISTED AS YOUNGER THE STARTGAZE RECRUITS: SAF RON (she/her): Character is 20, cisgender woman, lesbian, open to all ethnicities; some physical comedy required. LEAD. Mad as hell and not going to take it anymore, Saf joins STARGAZE with high expectations. If the adults won’t save the day, she will… and finally get the credit she deserves! But can this lone wolf learn to connect with others, stop being a control freak, relax her unreasonably high expectations of others (and herself), and step into the leadership role for which she is destined? First, she’ll have to stop seeing anyone getting in her way as a mustache-twirling villain, learn to see her crewmates’ value, accept help, and open herself up vulnerably. Gets apoplectic when mad; Has a knack for creating very convoluted protest chants that no one can follow. WHIT SPRINKLES (he/him): Character is 19, cisgender man, gay, open to all ethnicities. Must be able to walk elegantly in high heels. LEAD. A social media influencer famous for his snarky and bitter ’reads,’ charismatic Whit has developed a parasocial relationship with his stans. Living life performing in the spotlight from a very young age, Whit has no idea who he really is, what his real interests are, or his beliefs outside of what his analytics tell him: “My fans are gonna love this!” Only joining STARGAZE under pressure from his stans, his inability to forge true intimate connections is exacerbated by his relationship with his mother/manager Mumsy Sprinkles, a talentless hack/narcissistic stage mother living her dreams through her kid. If Whit was a meme he would be: ‘Bitch, I dun give a fuck!’ But he does, indeed, give a fuck. ESSA T. HATCH (they/them): Character is 18, non-binary or agender, asexual, demiromantic, neurodivergent, open to all ethnicities. LEAD. Adorkable Essa is an introvert who doesn’t really ‘get’ people. The explorer among the crew with an engineering mind and a love of mapping places and spaces, they know every nook and cranny of the ship and are usually the first to forge ahead (i.e. wander off) on every expedition. Essa mostly wants to be left alone to their own devices because they actually prefer their own company (neurotypicals can be so exhausting!). This normally wouldn’t be such a problem except Essa was pressured to join STARGAZE to make friends and widen their social net out of parental concern (‘We won’t be around forever, Essa!’). Loves to knit, make Venn diagrams of relationships; speaks in emojis when emotionally drained. LEW D’SHUS (he/him): Character is 21, transgender man or transmasculine, pansexual, open to all ethnicities. LEAD. When babelicious Lew looks at you with his rapt attention and dreamy eyes, you feel like the only person in the ‘verse until his short attention span snaps away and he forgets you’re there. “Good vibes, only!” Lew will gladly give you your Tarot card reading, but not before taking the negative cards out first. With his strict ‘the universe is love, we are love,’ mantra, Lew never wants anyone to feel bad even when they are deadass wrong! His philosophy of

appeasement can cause conflict amongst the crew and his inability to take sides in crucial moments will often put them in danger. No, we cannot just hug everything out, Lew! CHRYSTRAH SNU (she/her): Character is 17 (must be 18+ to apply), cis-gender woman, identifies as ‘queer’ but just figuring it all out. LEAD. Chrystrah is a fresh-off-the-belt queer who has arrived with big expectations: ‘I’m here, I’m queer! Direct me to my spot on the rainbow carpet!’ The trauma of her homophobic upbringing has left Chrystrah without any real sense of self; her identity loosely held together like a fragile cracked egg. Any criticism, no matter how gentle, feels like an attack, causing Chrystrah to act abrasive, territorial, and defensive. She is always overcompensating in big bombastic ways because she feels so inadequate for not knowing the right words, behaviours, and codes. She is jealous of Saf (some might say obsessed) who does seem to get it all right. Fiercely loyal, Chrystrah is the first to run headlong into danger to save someone. She has a steep learning curve ahead. THE ELDER QUEER CHAPERONES: BAE TORGA (she/her): Character is late 30’s-early 40’s, cisgender woman, bisexual, bipolar, open to all ethnicities. PRINCIPAL. A war hero (or war criminal depending on who you ask), Bae sees STARGAZE as an opportunity to redeem herself in the eyes of former mentor and friend Oracle Cain. She is someone who struggles with self-loathing and self-doubt even though she’s spent her adulthood righting her past wrongs and reining in her bipolar disorder, which contributed to her past rash and reckless mistakes. Possessing a tough, gruff demeanor, Bae is outwardly sardonic but really a bleeding heart who holds back out of fear that any demonstration of affection and empathy will be seen as a commitment. ORACLE CAIN (she/her): Character is middle-aged or older, transgender woman, ambulatory wheelchair user or wheelchair user, open to all ethnicities. *Note, as this is sci-fi, younger than middle age may apply. PRINCIPAL. A founding figure of the Queerverse, Oracle has done her service, done her duty, and now she’s done. She wants a peaceful existence to guard her limited energy and manage her physical pain. Instead, she’s pulled out of retirement to command a ship full of bickering youths. She also has to contend with spoiled brat and former colleague Bae reminding her of the past that Oracle is trying hard to forget. But duty is duty and it’s not like complaining ever got her anywhere. Talking to Oracle can feel like playing a chess game where the aloof commander is always five steps ahead: you never quite know where you stand with her. ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS ELP WHIPP (they/them or xe/xem): Character is middle-aged or older, gender-fluid, open to all ethnicities. Leader of the coalition of non-profit planets (each with its own conflicting Gay Agenda) that rule the Queerverse, Elp Whipp is a career bureaucrat/bean-counter who often gets caught in the trappings of their own political web — meaning much of nothing ever gets accomplished and progress is never made. Elp will appear throughout the series in that ‘Dean of the school’ role, occasionally showing up to demand overdue reports, warn the crew that their funding is at risk, and generally throw a wrench in the works. CARDIGAN JACK (she/her): Character is 30s, cis-woman, lesbian, open to all ethnicities. Cardigan Jack is a ‘pussy-hat’ wearing neo-liberalist feminist with a pirate vibe. She is the ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ of TERFs, and Saf Ron’s nemesis. TO SUBMIT: Borken Creative is committed to diverse and inclusive casting. For every role, please submit qualified performers without regard to disability, race, age, colour, sexual orientation or gender identity, or any other basis prohibited by law, unless otherwise specifically indicated, subject to legitimate casting directives. DEADLINE: Oct 8, 2021 EMAIL: casting@stargazetheseries.com. SUBJECT LINE: Character(s) Role, Performer’s First and Last Name, pronouns. BODY OF EMAIL: Please provide contact info including phone number.

Please confirm you are 18 or over in the body of email if applying for a Stargaze recruit character. Submit headshot and resume as attachments to casting@stargazetheseries.com. Resume should be in a scannable text file format (such as .doc, .pdf, .txt). First round selects will be invited to submit either a video clip audition or zoom audition invite. Only successful candidates will be contacted.

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[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

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Rocket Raccoon x Gender-Neutral Reader

Requested by: @b-oys-do-c-ry​

Summary: after the events of endgame, you’ve tried to settle back into life with the guardians, but feel the need to return home to your family and help them adjust to the new reality. rocket catches you packing.

Characters: rocket raccoon, reader, mentions of other guardians

Warnings: the relationship is understandably platonic. only warning is for mild adult language and angst

Word Count: 2,380

MARVEL MASTERLIST or CHECK OUT MY FANFIC DEDICATED BLOG

One of the side effects of living with five other ‘people’ on a ship with only three bunks – one of which was actually a converted storage space – was that you didn’t have a lot of space to call your own. Sharing a room with Drax, Mantis and Nebula meant that you really only kept the essentials, along with a few sentimental knick-knacks you’d picked up both back on Terra and in ports across the galaxy. On the bright side, that meant that the phrase ‘packing a bag’ could be taken quite literally. Almost everything you owned fit in a single duffel bag.

“What’re you doin’?”

You jumped slightly as a voice sounded behind you, a mix of confusion and amusement coloring his tone. Turning from the bag on your bunk, you offered an awkward shrug of one shoulder to Rocket. He was standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest and an eyebrow cocked.

It was amazing that after everything that happened with Thanos, you’d been brought back into existence and Rocket still seemed for the most part, the same gruff, smart-mouthed guy you’d bonded with when you’d first joined the crew.  There were a few greyer hairs around his muzzle now, and sometimes he seemed more tired than anything else, but otherwise, he just seemed happy to have you all back.

“Nothing. What’s up?”

“You’re missin’ dinner.”

“And you came all the way to the other end of the ship to tell me that?” you joked, mirroring his posture. You smirked jovially down at him. “I’m touched, man.”

“Shut ya mouth,” he groused back at you despite the beginnings of a smirk of his own on his face. You laughed despite your unease at being caught out, shaking your head. “Groot’s fussin’ about you not bein’ there.”

“Sure, he is,” you replied snidely, smile widening. It was unlikely that Groot had even raised his head from his game long enough to realize you weren’t there. “That’s why he’s here bugging me instead of you.”

“Watch it, humie. You can’t be butt ugly and friendless.”

“Ah, there’s the Rocket I know and love.” you teased. “And please, you know I’m gorgeous.”

He snickered, nodding almost absentmindedly. “Yeah, yeah. Ego like that and you’ll be putting Quill to shame in no time.”

“Oh, shudder the thought.” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. You turned back to your bed, speaking over your shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself, Rock. I promise, you’ll never see me getting into a pissing contest with a Norse God.”

“Because you’re leavin’?”

You stopped, hands hovering over your bag. You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaling a long sigh through your nose. You had tried so hard to do this quietly.

The last thing you wanted was the crew fussing over your decision or trying to get you to change your mind. You didn’t get a lot of privacy or time alone between ports, but you’d figured that the notion of a hot meal would be enticing enough to the rest of the crew to grant you at least twenty minutes in which to pack your bag. You’d barely made it more than five.

You’d told Quill. Two weeks ago, you’d found him alone, pouring over the screens that held the scans he hoped would lead you to Gamora. The new Gamora… an old Gamora. The Gamora that didn’t know you yet. It had taken him a while to comprehend what you were saying, to pull himself out of his thoughts long enough to understand. He’d tried to convince you to stay, tried to tell you what he thought you needed to hear, but he’d finally agreed all the same. You were to get off in a couple of days when you were Terra-side again. He’d agreed not to tell the others – it was your business to share.

Honestly, part of you was sure it would have been anyone but the anti-social Rocket to come looking for you… but maybe another part of you wasn’t so surprised by it at all. He’d been more attentive since the second snap, more concerned. Of course, he’d shake you off with an insult and a scoff if you pointed that out.

“Damn it,” you breathed quietly, turning around and fixing him with your best attempt at incredulity. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re packin’ a bag, Y/N.” he said pointedly, nodding his head toward the bed behind you.

“Maybe I’m just… reorganizing.”

“Into a bag.”

“It’s a… system. Keeps everything in one, easy to access place.”

“So does your locker,” he pointed out, gesturing under your bed.

“Well, only if you want to get all… logical about it,” you admitted in a childish grumble. When his only response was to lean against the edge of the doorway and give you an exasperated look, you sighed, running a hand through your hair. You sat on the edge of your bunk, shoving your bag to the end of it. “How many of you did Quill tell?”

Rocket’s expression turned offense. “So, you are leavin’.”

“Ah, shit.”

“And you told Quill, but not—not the rest of us?”

“I, uh… well, yeah?” you tried for a humored smile. It curled the side of your lips awkwardly. This whole conversation was making you way too uncomfortable. You didn’t do emotional confrontation. A gunfight on some random planet all in the name of the adventures of the Guardians of the Galaxy, sure. But talking about your feelings? There was a reason you got along so well with every other emotionally constipated crew member on this damn ship. “I needed him to steer the ship in the right direction. Did you think we were going back to Terra because we’re already out of mac and cheese?”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growled, clearly unamused by your attempt at humor. “You’re leavin’ and you weren’t even gonna tell us?”

“Of course, I was!” you protested. “Just… figured I’d wait.”

“’til when exactly?”

“…until it was time to get back on the ship?” you said, almost hopefully. Rocket rolled his eyes disparagingly, fixing you with a long look. The cold disappointment… the betrayal… in his eyes made your blood freeze, and he shook his head as he turned away. You called after him as he left. “Rocket. Rocket, c’mon, man—I just…”

You fell back onto your bed with a huff, staring at your ceiling. “Goddamn it.”

***

Two days. It had been a bit over forty-eight hours and Rocket still wasn’t talking to you. Sure, he wasn’t the most sociable guy on the ship to begin with, but this was different. This was cold.

The two of you usually exchanged good-natured, sarcastic barbs as easy as breathing, only to round on whoever told you to shut up first together. It was fun, easy, and something you never really thought about – your friendship with Rocket was always something you didn’t really have to think about – it was reactionary. So, to be thinking about it now… you’d been completely lost at what to do for the last two days.

He didn’t talk to you, and when he absolutely had to, it was curt. The sarcasm he still flung your way under his breath didn’t hold the same humor. More than once, Quill and Mantis had cast you questioning glance at the change in his attitude towards you, but all you could do was shrug. You weren’t even completely sure as to why he was acting this way; you were friends, sure, but it was Rocket. He wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type.

“Hey, Rock.”

He didn’t react to your entrance other than a small flick of his ear in your direction. He was on the late shift piloting the ship back to Terra, and you’d spent the last four hours staring at the ceiling of your bunk, sleep unwilling to take you. So, you dragged yourself out of bed, pulled on a jacket and your boots against the cold of the ship, and headed for the cockpit. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to him without interruption he left the room whenever someone else entered.

“Are you really giving me the silent treatment here, man?” you asked after a few moments, exasperated. You moved to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, pulling your jacket more tightly around yourself. “C’mon, Rocket. Seriously.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the sky. “I’m busy, Y/N.”

You followed his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I’d hate to distract you from this completely empty expanse of space we’re travelling through right now.”

He sighed at your sarcasm, giving you a sidelong, exasperated look of his own. “What’re you doin’ here, Y/N?”

“Right now?” you replied. “Right now, I’m just amazed you’ve managed to string more than two words together in my presence.”

“Just…” he paused, shaking his head as he searched for the words. You felt your stomach twist at the seeming uncertainty you could see in him; this was different. Rocket didn’t consider what he said; no, he’d just shoot back with whatever first came to mind, consequences be damned. For all his faults, he always seemed so certain of what he meant when he spoke, even if it was just a quick insult or a jibe. This wasn’t that. “Just… what do you want?”

“I want you to talk to me, Rocket.” you said. “Like before.”

“Why bother?” he shrugged, his voice gruff. He was back to refusing to look at you. “You ain’t gonna be around much longer, anyway.”

You sighed, fixing your eyes on the wide, black emptiness in front of you. That view used to excite you, a promise of adventure. Ever since the snap, it just felt… cold. “Look, I… I gotta go home, Rocket. They need me there. Everyone being back… it’s more complicated than we thought it would be. But… but me leaving, it’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, it’s not.”

“Dude,” you bristled at his tone despite yourself. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re pissed at me!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in annoyance. You stuttered over your words for a moment, lost, before standing and shrugging dramatically. “Look, just forget about it, Rocket. I don’t know why I bothered coming up here in the first place; why the hell would I ever expect you to actually fucking talk to me instead of just being a complete dick about this.”

It wasn’t until you were stepping back onto the ladder to leave that he spoke again, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. He was still sitting in the pilot’s chair, his eyes still on the stars. “Don’t.”

You stopped short, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t…” he exhaled slowly, a steadying breath. “Don’t go.”

Your brow creased, and you moved slowly back towards his seat until you could see his face again. He looked embarrassed at speaking up, his ears drooping back. In fact, you were almost certain that under all that fur there could be a blush burning in his cheeks.

“Why not?”

“Be… because… ah, fuck…” he muttered to himself, a paw rubbing almost nervously at the fur on the side of his neck. “Because we… we need you here.”

“You… no, you don’t.”

Rocket finally turned to look at you, incredulity in his eyes. “We don’t? What about Groot?”

You paused, pressing your lips together as your stomach dropped. You loved the plant, you’d helped to raise him, and leaving him behind was one of the hardest things you were facing right now. Leaving any one member of the crew behind was going to be hard, but Groot… he was still a kid. “He’ll… he’ll be fine. He’s got all of you here, and he probably… he probably won’t even realize that I’m gone.”

Rocket raised an eyebrow at you. “Really? You think he’s an idiot?”

“No! I think he’d have to get his head out of that goddamn gaming device for more than thirty seconds to realize I wasn’t around?” you shot back in frustration. “Is that what this is about? You think you’ll have to look after him by yourself if I’m not around? Are you seriously pissed at me because you’re losing a babysitter?!”

“I’m pissed because you’re leaving me!” he shouted, the intensity in his voice surprising the both of you. He seemed to realize he’d admitted something he hadn’t intended a few moments too late, and he rolled his eyes at himself, tugging irritably at the fur at either side of his neck.

“…Rocket?”

He growled in frustration, rubbing his paws over his eyes. When he finally spoke again, he sounded tired… weary. “Just… you have no idea. You have no idea what is was like… all of you were gone. Gone, and I was…”

He broke off with a long exhalation and a slow shake of his head, his eyes closed. When you spoke for him, you could barely bring your voice above a whisper. “Alone.”

Rocket’s breathing shook slightly, the only sound in the ship’s quiet cockpit. You moved to kneel beside his chair, your gaze beseeching. You almost reached out to touch him but thought better of it. Honestly, you weren’t sure anymore if that was still a trigger for him.

“Rocket, you’re not alone anymore. We’re all back. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean the others will be too. You’ll still have Groot and Quill and Nebula… everyone else will still be here. You’re not going to be alone; is that what this is all about?”

He sighed, opening his eyes. “It don’t matter. You go, that’s one more time, one more person I’ve got to mourn. And I don’t think I’ve got it in me to do it again.”

“Rock…” you murmured. You could feel tears welling in your eyes, and you could see them in his. You steadied yourself, wetting your lips. “I need to go home.”

He turned to face you, his jaw set. “Then don’t stay.”

“What?”

“Come back. Don’t stay on Terra.”

“I don’t…”

“Please.”

You stopped short; you didn’t think that in all the time you’d ever heard Rocket say ‘please’.

And that was, suddenly, all that it took.

“Okay.”

.

.

.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen​ @dragon-chica​

[goth-bunny]

I’ve been losing my mind over the hints at Bloodhound’s backstory that it’s unreal. So I wrote a lengthy blog entry about it. It’s at 1,711 words under the Read More.

(If you see this post on @bloodhound-and-jackrabbit, don’t worry, that’s my sideblog!)

Alright. Anyone who knows me, within the Apex fandom and outside of it too, knows that I am in love with Bloodhound. The season 3 launch is killing me! But don’t worry! I only have good things to talk about it!

 A bit of a background: I was into playing Overwatch from late October 2018 to May 2019 thanks to my ex. But it wasn’t until I saw someone tweet about a new video game franchise having a canonically nonbinary character. Unfortunately, I felt like the genre wouldn’t be my cup of tea as I have minimal experience with battle royales, let alone FPS. The teaser trailer did manage to convince me otherwise with its diverse cast of characters, fast pacing, and killer song choice. I didn’t pick up the game until the end of February, which was a few days after my ex dumped me. I needed a distraction from it; so hell, why not play that hot new game?

 I launch the game and don’t think too much, selecting the Tutorial mode, because of course, it’s a brand new game with different controls and mechanics from Overwatch. Imagine my surprise that I see the very Legend who’s piqued my interest in the series in the first place! After the Tutorial, I try the regular Play mode and got matched up with someone playing as Mirage. Unfortunately, I wasn’t doing so well, and I was nervous about speaking on mic at the time as I sound too feminine to be read as androgynous. I don’t remember much besides dying in a skirmish and being unable to use ziplines as they weren’t a part of the tutorial. After that match, I spent the remaining time checking out Bloodhound in the Legends gallery. What stood out the most for me were their quips or voicelines; a lot of them were very comforting for me to hear, especially in a low point of my life.

 Weeks later, I was still talking to my ex, but it was clear that things were completely different than before. I played Overwatch without him anyway, but it wasn’t the same. I was still unable to come to terms that I do have somewhat of a crush on Bloodhound until early June; I had a dream that the two of us were alone in the woods, and they found it safe to take off their helmet and mask around me. They revealed themself as an androgynous black person with short, curly red hair, and I kissed them on the cheek. Two more dreams would succeed that:  one where we were both dressed in black and red suits on a date, and the other one was…it ended up being not safe for work, to say the least. These all lead me to formulating a self-insert fanfic, and then finally giving Apex a second chance just so I can figure out the lore and feel of the game. Initially, if I have not gotten into Overwatch, I wouldn’t have considered playing Apex Legends even if I learned there was a nonbinary character.

 Within the past 3 months, Bloodhound has been a comforting character for me. They were absolutely relatable to someone like me; besides the fact that they’re nonbinary, they also happened to be a pagan with an affinity for birds, sharp objects, and mortality.

 The main catalyst for writing this post is the season 3 launch. Last week, when the launch trailer debuted, I lost sleep over seeing Bloodhound sharpening their handy hunting knife with a whetstone as they’re surrounded by numerous candles in their dropship room. The very scene made me fall even harder with them, as I too have always loved candles, and even more so when I started identifying as a pagan since last year. However, it was the season launch itself that made me even more anxious.

 During the past 3 months I’ve immersed myself into the fandom, I’ve come up with multiple headcanons for Bloodhound, a great portion of them never having been published here on Tumblr or discussed publicly, the most notable being their backstory: I’ve figured that Bloodhound would have an Afro-Latina/Filipina biological mother (Nimfa Vilhjalmsdottir) who remarried to a white man named Sigurdur (Sigurdur Steinnson), thus Bloodhound ending up with a meathead stepbrother named Albert. The parents had a military background, and they all lived on a planet with a high population of humans of Icelandic or Nordic descent. As a kid, Bloodhound was kind of an oddball, preferring to spend lengthy periods of time outdoors and exploring the woods or reading books about fantasy and adventure. One time, little Bloodhound was flocked by an unkindess of ravens, much to their parents’ concern. As they grew older, they became more and more visibly uncomfortable with their birth gender, and their stepfather’s pressure on them to join the military. As Bloodhound turned 18, the tension between them and their stepfather grew, thus prompting them ran away from home and join a group of ragtag freedom fighters dedicated to preserving the Frontier lands from militarization and imperialism. Eventually, Bloodhound would end up knocking at death’s door in the middle of the woods after a young Anita Williams snipes them from a distance. This would be a turning point in their life, where they’d meet the Allfather and promise to be devoted to him. Coming back to the mortal realm, Bloodhound sees that their group has lost the battle, and decided to go into hiding, hopping from planet to planet to run away from their past.

 However, it was teased that Bloodhound’s parents are named Johann and Brigida, and that they’re probably both scientists and not war veterans. Not disapproving or judgmental of their child’s gender of interests, as far as the loading screen with Johann’s letter to Brigida suggests. I would be fine with this, but it opens up a new can of worms for me.

Before I point what these potential worms would be, let me remind you that the new season dropped at the same time I had my psychiatrist appointment where I finally brought my mom over to talk with her about me, thus revealing that what I originally speculated was completely wrong.

Okay, here’s the can of worms: Johann and Brigida, and Artur to an extent, are very “white” sounding names. I would be lying if I denied that I didn’t speculate Bloodhound as a white person during the first few weeks after the game’s release. If the races of Bloodhound and their relatives were revealed to be all white, I’m worried that it’s going to cement the falsehood of Vikings or Norse pagans as being exclusively white, which was not the case in reality. I’m worried that Bloodhound being revealed as explicitly white would mean that they would be co-opted as white supremacist symbol because a sizeable amount of neo-Nazis/white supremacists/bigots practice Norse Paganism (which I learned the hard way a few weeks back).

Another concern would be Bloodhound getting a face reveal, which would undermine a lot of fans’ headcanons for them, mine included.  The headcanons are as diverse as the Apex Legends cast itself and a lot of heart and soul have been poured out into them, so catastrophe is inevitable if the official unmasked!Bloodhound face will be revealed.

 On the bright side, there are some things I hope will be executed instead of my worries. Bloodhound and their relatives are never portrayed explicitly, and are instead, shown as silhouettes, in addition to them never getting their face shown even when they have removed their helmet and mask. Another thing that would be nice to see is that they’d be ambiguously brown; Bloodhound being ambiguously brown would help break many stereotypes about them as a person, one of which is that one has to be white to be a Norse pagan, which is an open practice, anyway, and that Vikings have traveled across the globe and intermingled with different civilizations, meaning that a white viking homogeneity is racist and historically inaccurate. Besides, names like Johann, Artur, and Brigida can be just as white a name as Elizabeth Harris (that’s Cupcakke the rapper’s real name by the way!). It would also be a relief if the writers pull a Riley Cavanaugh and never hint at Bloodhound’s birth gender and keep them as androgynous as possible.

It’s also been speculated that Johann and Artur are Icelandic, and that Brigida is Italian, meaning that Bloodhound is potentially mixed-race. Let’s not forget that Apex Legends takes place in the 28th century, and people of all races are in space. Sure, there’s space ableism and imperialism, and to an extent, transphobia, but it would be unrealistic for racial homogeny to still exist.

 Bloodhound has been a great source of comfort for me these past few months. I see so much of myself in them: besides being nonbinary, I’m also a pagan who venerates a psychopomp, love books and birds, introverted but sympathetic of others, and unashamed of my identity. I’ve seen my confidence spike upwards, knowing that a person like them exists. That I am much more than my weaknesses and how people perceive me. That I still have so much to live for. That I am not alone.

 Before I end, I’m actually glad that Bloodhound grew up with a loving and accepting family, and thus destroying what projection of my hurt I have on them; I assumed that my mom would be immensely disappointed in me being nonbinary and bi, so I wanted someone who would be going through the same predicament as me, so that there’ll be some common ground. But it seems we do have enough common ground, having scientist parents who moved to a different place from my place of birth. Last August, my psychiatrist asked me how can I be a happy nonbinary person, in a world that sees everything in a male/female dichotomy? Perhaps I’ve found my answer in the form of Bloodhound.

 If you have reached this paragraph, thank you so much for taking the time to read my post in its entirety. I just want to get my feelings off my chest, as Bloodhound has been very important to me.

 Have you any questions or reactions, please feel free to message me!

[splintersfeelings]

Carefully step over the gap of my open heart and show me where I came from / 擔心，小心，開心

Family trees are defined by absences.

--

My father and I were talking as he drove. He wondered aloud if he was like his own father, my Ye Ye. My paternal grandfather passed away when my dad was still a teenager.

"I'm surprised you notice and remember all the stories I tell you," he says to me, when I write about them. I always remember. How could I forget? I'm haunted by the stories. I burn them into my memory in the only way that I can to light up the dark spaces in my consciousness that are haunted by ghosts.

--

My dad doesn't speak much to his family anymore.

His mom, my Maa Maa, tried to control my father's life and groom him to become an eldest son who could serve as the head of the household, where he was needed to fill the vacancy left behind by my grandfather’s death when my father was a teenager. It was a burden that no one that young should have to bear.

My father's younger brother, my Suk Suk, told me about the Wong progenitor 7 generations before me (my father's grandfather's grandfather's grandfather).

This Wong left his Guangdong hometown to come to the United States and make his fortune. He returned home with the fruits of his labor only to be warned of an assassination plot waiting for him. So instead of returning to his home village, he took a detour to Macau to retire with his Gold Mountain windfall. He eventually accumulated 4 wives (including an American wife) and left behind many descendants in the Macau/Hong Kong area. This story was authored by at least 4 or 5 people, stories relayed across generations, until my Suk Suk was able to compile them all and then convey it to me.

Does this make the story less true? Or does it make it more true, the accumulated sweat and tears of generations distilled into a single, elegant fairy tale, an origin story of a man heading east on his Journey to the West?

This was it's own kind of pilgrimage.

--

There's a difference in how Eastern and Western cultures view justice, and it's a complicated question that I'm bound to oversimplify here, but I think the idea is visible in the difference between Buddhism and the Abrahamic (Judeo-Christian and Islamic) traditions.

In the Abrahamic, justice is something that happens in the afterlife. Justice is the promise of reward and punishment for mortal sins. Life is allowed to be just, because God will ensure that sinners pay the price and that the good are granted the salvation they deserve.

In Buddhism, there's no punishment and reward in the afterlife. Life itself is the system of punishment and reward for past lives. It has a retroactive temporal orientation towards justice instead of the future orientation of the Abrahamic. In Buddhism, heaven and hell would be confusing, because the goal of religious practice is to escape from life and reincarnation, not to live a post-mortem afterlife.  For the Buddhist, everyone always deserves what they get, what goes around comes around. Somewhere out there is a cosmic Karmic ledger that balances the accounts. Justice is built into the present instead of constantly deferred.

The Abrahamic fears oblivion, fears the unknown, fears the cessation of the senses. Buddhism, by forgoing the afterlife, embracing oblivion and does something different.

I'm neither a Buddhist or a Christian. I don’t self-identify as an atheist or an agnostic. In my own words, I would prefer to say that I think metaphysical statements have no truth values. But this is all neither here nor there.

In Hong Kong there was only one real god.

Its name was money.

--

Getting up at night to use the restroom, I trip over a pile of books I had forgotten. "Pukgaai…" I mutter to myself as I nearly fall, stumbling for my phone. Groping through the darkness with my cold hands, searching for familiar shapes and sensations to remind me who I am.

--

In Cantonese (and in Mandarin), "he," "she," and "it" all correspond to the same spoken word. Gender is only marked in the written form. My sister and I used to make fun of our parents for always slipping up on pronouns, calling he's she's and she's he's. I realize now how special it is to not have gender linguistically and ontologically bound into our consciousness, instantly and immediately assigned to bodies. Of course, Chinese culture still contains uncomfortable Confucian attitudes toward gender, sex, reproduction. But there's something remarkably progressive and profound about not needing to assign gendered pronouns to people. Romance and Germanic languages are so strongly gendered. Who felt like they needed to assign gender to chairs, stars, doors, cups, hats, and boats, anyways? Why should a feminine verb, a neuter verb, and a masculine verb be linguistically differentiated?

--

Trauma is a form of omission.

--

My maternal grandfather, Gung Gung, was a gambling addict. But I wouldn't say he was addicted to chance. He was a surprisingly risk-averse man in other aspects of his life. He turned down a job offer from his family because he didn't want to move away from the racetrack in Happy Valley, where he'd calculate the optimal horse to bet on, studying and researching all the details that might distinguish him from the crowd. He was a man who found comfort in games, the consistency and dependability, the clear and precise conditions of defeat and victory that are absent from the tedium of everyday life. In games there is nothing left but expression of skill. The chess pieces don't care who you are, where you were born, or how much money you make. There is only the elegant simplicity of victory or defeat and whether or not you’re willing to pick yourself up afterwards from the burning wreckage to try your hand again.

Gung Gung was a chain smoker, such an addict that long flights from Hong Kong to the United States were troublesome for him. He passed away watching a game of chess under a bridge on Hong Kong island. But just months before he passed away he visited Seattle to see my sister and I. My sister was less than a year old and I was only a toddler.

I wonder if Gung Gung would have appreciated my childhood chess tournament trophies and my passion for real-time strategy games. I wonder if he would have taught me to flank using chariots, pin down with cannons, connect my elephants.

I was too young to remember him, so I can't say that I really met him. But I'm glad that he got to meet me before he died.

--

The single greatest gift that Cantonese has given me is a slur for white people. If I didn't have it, I would only ever think of myself as a failed national subject. Because of just one word, a word that now comes easily and quickly to my mind, I know otherwise. I was robbed of something, long ago, before I was even born, and every time I say "gweilo" I reclaim just a little bit of that history back.

Peace by piece. Plowshares for swords. An eye for a tongue.

--

Complicity is the price of silence.

--

To this day, the sound of Cantonese music puts me at ease. I barely understand the language. But hearing the rising and falling tones of the prestige Yue dialect, the language of Guangdong, always brings close a warm part of my childhood.

When I young, not yet in grade school, I had a hard time falling asleep by myself. My parents recognized I was a creature of ritual. My dad would sit close and would play Cantopop as I fell asleep.

One day, he turned on some music to listen to during the day, just for himself, and I complained to him that I wasn't ready to sleep yet.

--

Assimilation is death.

--

"Transgenerational trauma," my professor said during our seminar. We were discussing Lacanian psychoanalysis, and the displacement of trauma through unspoken linguistic signs. The idea is that trauma is displaced along generations by overdetermining the language that the parent uses to talk to the child, and the child to grandchild, and so on. And thus, a life time of scars is tucked into the limits of our speech. A child can choose to become like their parents or become unlike their parents. But the shadow of the parent is still there either way.

What an abyss then it must be for a grandparent and a grandchild to not even share a common language. What kind of trauma is belied by the fact that everything goes unspoken?

I grew up reading through my Ye Ye's comic books. Wong Si Ma was a famous cartoonist in Hong Kong when he was alive, and his characters are still remembered fondly. The first time I read them, they gripped my imagination. Over time, I realized that my love for those cartoons was bound into the fact that my father had taught me the same sense of humor as these comics, the same love for puns and physical comedy and light-hearted pranks.

Wong Si Ma had time for everyone in his life, but not enough time for his family before he passed away.

--

Even though I'm not religious, Hong Kong for me is a site of pilgrimage. And that saddens me, because I know that the Hong Kong that I want and need will never exist ever again. Hong Kong’s place in the world changed. Hong Kong has been transferred back to China, and Cantonese language and politics and culture will have to be fought for to be preserved.

I feel regret, as if I have failed in a duty, by not properly learning the language. But now is as good a time as any to start.

--

Whenever I commute around Seattle or Irvine, I think back to riding the MTR in Hong Kong and the sonorous British-inflected English voice warning me: "Careful, please mind the gap." In Cantonese, to be careful is "siusum," literally translated as "small heart." To step with caution. I try my best to step with caution, remembering all the sacrifices people have made to put me here walking these grounds and living this life. I don't think I can be grateful for receiving something I never asked for.

But I keep trying to dream for the two grandfathers I never really met, who persisted as a memory of a memory, ghosts who guide my heavy heart, as I sleep and slowly learn how…

--

…to open my heart and be happy.

[ofblackdaffodil]

« She supposed, glumly, that she had meant to be a sort of living marble bust: This is Youthful Intelligence; admire Her. Isn't She Lovely ? » — Gregory Maguire

          It doesn’t take you long to figure out the intricate dynamics which reign over your family are not quite what you might have liked them to be. You are the last ( and, by correlation, the youngest ) daughter of three in a family where your gender and that of your children assigned your worth. It comes as no surprise, then, that your very existence is an utter disappointment for both your parents. You start in life ( and in your family ) with the cards stacked up against you and with your only option being to prove them wrong, to prove you could be the perfect daughter ( so perfect, in fact, that the benefits which would come from your good upbringing might almost make up for the fact you were not a boy ).

         Of course, no one ever said you were a disappointment ( not to your face, at least. Your face only received praises for exceptional harp playing and for staying very quiet and very still at proper society events ). Your mother, Druella Rosier, was a tall and imposing woman who doted on you almost instantly thanks to the obvious likeness between your facial features and that of her side of the family. If she felt let down that you were not the prodigal heir so desired, she could at least make you into her spitting image. Your father, Cygnus Black the Third, considered you with the air of a man always too busy to remember his own children and a feigned, tactical ignorance where he let Druella do as she pleased with your education so long as it fit into the carefully curated mold of pureblood society in general ( and the Blacks in particular ).

         The childhood memories of your father are all monochromatic shades of grey. It is him, sitting in a large armchair in the drawing room on winter evenings, as the sun went down earlier and earlier and the days shortened to engulf him in darkness. It is an office door closed, one that you had never dared touch the handle of until much ( much ) later when you were not a girl anymore, too afraid that you were that the door would open ( or that it wouldn’t. You could never decide which would be worse ). It is his back turned to you as you played yet another melodic harp piece to entertain the guests he has had over for dinner, before he did a careful ( careless ) gesture of the hand and Druella dismissed you back to your bedroom. It is a constant, looming, intriguing presence — And you cannot help but be fascinated by it, despite how lonely it made you feel. You figured people like your father were on top of the world, and it had been drilled into your soul that you deserved nothing less than being on top of the world.

         Your mother, on the other hand, was all pretty smiles and public gestures. She took to parading you ( so young, so youthful, so full of life and eager to please and to learn ) to any and all events you could come with without being entirely out-of-place. You were her favourite accessory, glistening with intelligence and a need for attention and praises which meant you never dared put a foot out of place ( at least not in any space where your parents could know ). At the time, it felt like your only purpose and personality trait was to make your mother ( and the rest of your family ) look good, respectable. And, after spending so much time in this world that it was the only thing you truly knew, you started to take a liking to it ( at least in appearances ). You started to understand. All of this was performance, glitter in the dull lives of other pureblood families. And being that glitter, being the one they looked to in these times ? This felt an awful lot like power.

         Your power started outside of the gates of the Black Estate and ended as soon as you stepped a foot back in. Out there, you were the bright and brilliant heiress to an incredible family fortune. In here, you were merely a daughter in a world ran by sons and fathers and husbands. Your mother made you smart, yet did not value your opinion, as if your intellect should have only been pretense and nothing of particular consequences. Your salvation came first in your siblings and cousins, your first friends and allocated games partners, the people who wanted you to smile but did not expect it to be on queue. Secondly came the books ( a whole library of books, which you got away with reading as they always made strong conversation starters and developed your wits ). You never read just to read, or even just to learn, but with the knowledge and purpose that all of these words would then have to be internalized and used in society. You enjoyed that ( enjoyed the control it gave you ). It is in those long hours reading that you learned to know your father, perhaps better than you knew your mother. Cygnus was a quiet, cold man whose stature imposed as much as any one of his words. He read, too, more than you have ever seen Druella do though certainly not as much as yourself — And if you sat very still and made no noise, he often seemed to forget you were there and let you in on political discussions you might not have been privy to otherwise. Sometimes, even still, you wonder if he did so on purpose, if he had seen coming that out of all of his offspring you would be the most likely to pursue a career dealing in influences and favours. Neither of you will ever address this, but you were a young kid then and these moments felt like freedom from the path carefully traced for you.

         You holiday in Aix-en-Provence or on the French Riviera. You see the world through the mediate looking glass your family has created for you all ( Bella, Andy, Sirius, Regulus and you ), through parties with important dignitaries and lunches with their wives and other kids around your age. If it snowed somewhere in winter ( somewhere other than home ), you were guaranteed to see it at least once during the Christmas Holidays. This was a lonely childhood, but it was also a scintillating one. And while you could share your loneliness ( and forget it ) with your sisters, it did not seem to matter much that your relationship with your parents was solely one meant to serve their interests. You knew they loved you, of course. They dotted on you whenever they could, the sweet youngest daughter of the House of Black ( the princess, the doll, whatever qualifier put you on a pedestal you were not allowed to step away from ), and you had no doubt that they wanted the best for you ( because they wanted the best for the family ), but nowadays you think that perhaps, despite their best efforts, they were not truly meant to be parents. You love them like a daughter anyway, with the utmost respect for tradition and family values.

         You had dreams. Of course you had. If being a human being did not ensure that came with the territory, Hogwarts would certainly have. You think that perhaps, as the youngest daughter ( the well-behaved daughter ), you might be allowed to pursue them. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter that much if it became clear her intellect was more than skin deep. Still, you knew that in order to achieve these dreams, you also had to keep on curating the perfect and pristine image your parents expected of you. You played the part. You did that well. You had dreams, but you were not entirely insensitive to the attraction of power ( of agency ) and of feeding the influence you already held. ( In fact, any dreams which would not take this into account would perhaps be no dream at all. )

         And then, Andy left and your mother was destroying family mementos in the main fireplace, and all your hopes that you might get what you were trying to achieve shatter like the glass on these picture frames. In an instant, you lost all rights to your childhood memories, and it scared you how easy it was to erase a life ( Andy’s life, part of yours ) and you thought you did not want to be next. No dream was worth the trouble of losing the influences and slim agency and respect she had built for herself throughout the years. Your father, in the most booming voice you ever remember him having used towards you, gave lessons on family loyalty ( a mantra you hold dear, toujours pur ) but it was your mother who took care of the practicalities of erasing one Andromeda Black from your home ( as if she had never existed at all ). Your mother cared in her own way, trying to protect what she felt like was left of her family — the cruelty and harshness of the sentence still shook you to your bones, and you wondered if this was what people did to save the ones they loved.

         You’ve grown up now, but your relationship with your parents remains similar to the one you have always had. It is you and your father, silently exchanging the financial and political news pages from the Daily Prophet after breakfast in a silent permission for you to use your brain. It is you and your mother, planning the next society event with luxury and gusto. You are still dotted on, protected ( who else would convince Cygnus Black to allow an animal which was not an owl on his property ? ), but you are now old enough to be a representative of the family in your own rights and to fulfill your duties. And while this might not change how your parents view you, it changes how the rest of the world does, and that is a promising start when trying to ensure the family name and social status. You are, after all, your father’s daughter.

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

Trucy, you don’t need to take sides. There’s one side. The truth. And both Apollo and Phoenix are on that side.

They’re not at the same bench but they’re on the same team. It’s gonna be ok.

-

“I’m sorry too, little lady! this is all my fault..”

Oh so trucy gets an apology, but not Apollo? cool cool whatever 

-

Trucy, if Phoenix and Apollo become bitter enemies over a property dispute then they weren’t really all that close to begin with.

-

Dhurke: invalides trucy’s feelings while simultaneously spouting more of his Manly Man shit

-

“one minute we’re trading blows, and the next, we’re having drinks together”

well if that’s his mentality i can see why he thinks its ok do be an utter fuckwad to everyone

-

“We’re simple creatures at heart! Hah-hahahaha!”

yes... men are so simple at heart... they’re just a bunch of neanderthals... thanks Dhurke, truly you are the way to the future.

-

To be honest, I am glad that this is a civil case. When I first saw the publicity I was sure they’d made Phoenix a prosecutor for no reason and I was furious.

I’m not super glad at the way things turned out but at least the bullshit counter didn’t go into the red and explode.

Phew. I’m actually sighing in relief here. Maybe I can pretend what follows is all a friendly game or something.

-

Aww; poor Judgey’s confused :(

-

...they seriously don’t need to have a falling out to be on the opposite side of a courtroom. Lawyers face each other all the time. 

They don’t have to hate each other, they just have to keep things professional, otherwise they’d cause a conflict of interest. Like... it’s not ideal but tbh it’s more a danger to their clients than each other.

-

Y’know, I’m gonna dare to be optimistic here; as much as I hate this storyline and most people in it, this is actually an interesting and character-developing scenario.

Apollo has to face off against his mentor, the guy who... well I’d say Kristoph taught him all his tricks, but Phoenix was a sort of moral guiding force, I guess. Apollo standing up and holding his own against a superior is a legitimate way to show that he’s come into his own. Plus, since it’s not framed in a negative light (or at least, it shouldn’t be) it’s more impactful than phoenix being straight up evil since that would make it easy to take him down. This is a contest between two people who simply happen to be on opposite sides of the chess board. Again, it’s a pretty legit way to show Apollo’s growth.

...that said, I just wish it wasn’t happening after zero character build up and a heaping serving of bullshit. :T

Oh well. At least they got something right.

-

it is pretty hilarious how much they’re trying to up the drama though. it’s not that deep, guys

-

I guess Atishon just doesn’t have legs 

[snerk] his shitty speeches are actually kinda funny. ...if a little cliché.

-

...he’s standing... but I'm still not ruling out that he’s legless...

-

Tbh, even though Atishon is clearly lying, the fact that Datz basically threatened the orb out of Buff does make this kind of in their favour. 

-

...Apollo, don’t overcomplicate the case. All you have to do is prove that it’s not the crystal and you can have it. 

-

Reasons Apollo would make a good rebel: He doesn’t blab his rebelness all over the place for no reason.

-

SEXY PAN UP SHOT FOR MS. SKYE

nice ankles, ms skye.

-

“Ema..?”

“Use some manners, we’re in court”

thats not the way you acted the last time you were called as his witness :/

-

whoa seriously whats with the sudden crazy 180 for Ema? Yeah, she’s grumpy, but suddenly she’s acting like Apollo’s some rude little shit off the street. Why is she upset that he’s going up against Phoenix? Why does he need to apologize? JUST BEING ON OPPOSITE ENDS OF THE COUTROOM DOESN’T MAKE YOU ENEMIES.

or did the SOJ team forget the lessons we learned in the trilo–– oh who am i kidding they’ve never even laid eyes on those.

-

“You’ll never get the job done with that attitude. Take it from someone who’s been there” Been where???? Been where, Ema?????? what the fuck are you talking about what is going on 

-

haha the fey statue and the urn were ‘stolen’, huh? yeah. stolen from a better game.

-

pfft. So Buff’s some Kaitou Kid type, huh?

-

y’know ive been neglecting to mention it but have you noticed how much they skimp on animation compared to DD? DD had like 20 tiny animated cutscenes, and SOJ has one lame one at the beginning of each case to set it up. I can’t believe they even slashed the animation budget.

-

has anyone noticed how unfocused 3D phoenix looks. he looks like he’s just. staring out into space.

-

i love they don’t use gendered pronouns to refer to Buff’s kid. Remember the last time they did that? Mr. Andrews......

-

“I was shocked to see the urn that came from Kurain in Kurain”

anyway quit referencing actually good games, SOJ. Back to the shame corner for you.

-

oh COME ON. How do you steal a fucking wall relief?! 

and he really couldn’t just get a fucking permit? what the fuck is this

-

“but good intentions are no get-out-of-jail-free-card”

they are a sentence-lightening card, though! either way, this is one of the things i like most about AA. No matter how good your intentions were you still dont get away with cold-blooded murder. 

OR KIDNAPPING, AURA. HAVE FUN IN JAIL YOU SHITTY EXCUSE FOR LESBIAN REPRESENTATION.

-

every single theft of an artifact can be attributed to Dr. Buff. every single one.

-

alright, so we’re back to that whole ‘missing object report’. Thing is, unless there really IS a Crystal of Ami Fey, this wouldn’t work out. Atishon has to provide evidence that he owned the item, or that it existed in the first place. If this crystal turns out to be made up I’m gonna pitch a fuckin fit.

Don’t disappoint me, SOJ.

-

“Wimperson”

ah, SOJ, with all the comedic genius of a third-grader.

...to be fair i could say the same about Larry but i like larry and AA1. and it also plays into his phrase-thingy!

-

seriously. gimme pics of the crystal or we’re gonna have some serious problems.

-

“So how do you know this item is the thing he’s looking for”

“he said so”

THATS. NOT EVIDENCE. 

-

oh judge, your oldness never ceases to be to be enjoyable 

(that wasn’t sarcasm btw i love that dumb running gag)

-

seeing phoenix scream from the opposite side of the table is very enjoyable. just because i love seeing phoenix scream but also like having that scream not mean something bad for my case. 

i get to have my cake and eat it too! <3

-

um i dont think you can put dashes in email addresses.

-

“Don’t tell me!”

“Oh, but I will anyway.”

I love Apollo so, so much.

-

so you looked far enough into this that you tried to hack his computer but you’ll accept “its mine cause i said so” as concrete proof of something??

-

“Maybe the recipient of the email was a dog lover!”

he might be on the other side with the kid gloves off but phoenix is still Phoenix “a baseball also has stitches” Wright.

-

fuck. he walks to the bench. he cant not have legs.

...but maybe........

-

what the fuck

Atishon has the same birthday as my dad

DISGUSTING

-

oh my god, seeing phoenix /sweating/ on the other side is even more surreal

-

i also love that everyones making ‘politicians are gross’ jokes willynilly but they all forget that they’re Criminal Defence Lawyers

-

“This is... Quite... a thing... you’ve said”

I'm wheezing

this is turning out to be way funnier than i expected

please SOJ I'm having fun don’t stop me now

-

i mean he has a point. if Atishon leant the item to Bluff to study that still means that Atishon owned it in the first place.

HOWEVER, WHERE THE FUCK IS THE PROOF OF THE ORIGINAL ITEM IN ANY WAY RESEMBLING WHAT WE’VE GOT HERE.

-

its so weird to see phoenix on the wrong side of the bench that i keep getting his voice wrong when i read him out loud. i keep making him sound deep and authoritative instead of... well, how he usually sounds.

-

“Well, grandchildren ARE meant to be spoiled... I mean, that’s what grandfathers are for!”

judgeyyyyyyyyy

im crying

-

ema: can i fuck off now

-

“lets get more info on the crystal”

FINALLY. thank you, athena.

-

NO, NOT ITS HISTORY, DAMNIT

PROVE THAT IT EXISTS AND YOU OWNED IT.

-

“back in the old country”

...england..?

-

pft i though his testimony said “The Hilarious History” instead of illustrious history and i was so ready

-

“he protected the spirit mediums, a minority back then, from the rest of the locals”

well thats a big fat lie because

A) Kurain village is build on mediums

B) no way the Fey clan would allow a male ruler

we could reaaaaaaaallly use some photo evidence, Atishon.

-

“One Ives Shineto”

ok what the FUCK. where the hell are all the women?! HEY. SOJ TEAM. DID YOU EVEN GLANCE AT THE  oh of course you didnt fuck meeeeeeeeee

also whats that pun

-

FFFF PHOENIX YA LIL SHIT

-

“The transformation the mediums underwent when channeling spirits frightened the locals”

i am glad to know changing your entire bone structure is as scary looking as it sounds. of course, i doubt people would be frightened for too long when they were talking to deceased loved ones.

-

i must say they did do a good job writing Atishon’s lines.

-

“The Kurain channeling technique is known to have originated from Kooraheen, and Ami was said to travel there to train”

No, Ami invented the technique, and according to your backstory, she lived there first. Can you even keep your own facts straight?

I mean, apart from all this being bullshit and i hate it.

-

i legit cant believe it took THAT LONG for phoenix to point out the fact that the handover agreement was signed under duress.

that'd be like, the first thing i pointed out. 

...ah, there it is. I knew this couldn't stay a happy little civil case for long. Here comes the murder.

Also, really Phoenix? You didn’t bring up the fact that he might have been killed any earlier too?

-

Now that theyre bringing up the pile of books, I realize how ridiculous it is that there were so many of them on the ground. Pulling out one book might dislodge one or two next to it, but not the entire shelf. For the books to have fallen like that, they would have needed to have been shoved from the other side, or for the shelf to have listed forwards. neither of those things are possible. and nobody noticed this?!

i mean the only reason i didnt think about it was because i knew this was murder from the start.

-

Man, Phoenix, with all your “with respect for the dead” talk, it sure did take you a while to bring up the fact that you knew he was murdered and the police should probably be getting on that right now.

>edit: Actually I just realized how despicable that is; keeping the fact that this was murder secret just to use it later on as a quick bargaining chip in your civil case.

Hey capcom? You can screw up the series all you like but FUCK you for making Phoenix a skeezy piece of shit on par with the likes of von Karma. Because you know who else withholds information that sensitive for such a petty reason? MANFRED VON KARMA. 

Fuck you, capcom, fuck you, fuck you, FUCK you. 

-

“Did you forget who you were up against, Mr. Justice?”

All I do is hurl baseless accusations!!

-

wow the second this turned into murder i just got tired of this case. Also, Phoenix, you better back your butt back to your seat. Being a murder case, this requires a prosecutor... something that you are not.

-

theres AN AUTOPSY REPORT. WHY ISNT THIS A SEPARATE TRIAL.  THIS SHOULD BE A SEPARATE TRIAL; THIS SHOULD BE BEING... TRIAL-ED IN ANOTHER COURTROOM. you can reference it, and use it as evidence, BUT YOU CAN’T JUST COMBINE THEM.

Damnit, Capcom, I TOLD YOU NOT TO DISAPPOINT ME.

BUT YA JUST COULDN’T HELP IT, COULD YOU.

-

...Datz is in the gallery... But he was just in jai–– fuck it whatever

-

ok now that this is a murder trial Atishon’s non-answers aren’t funny anymore, theyre ANNOYING. I WANT THIS SHIT TO BE OVER AS FAST AS POSSIBLE. YAP ME A CONTRADICTION OR I’LL CRAM YOUR BELOVED PLAQUE UP YOUR POLITICALLY INEPT ASS.

-

“Try me, o lord of plebs”

its been a long time since any meme-y type person has called someone else a pleb... please try to keep up, SOJ.

-

i love that phoenix, at the end of each statement, politely states “get the fuck on with it, asshat”

-

why the fuck did he 

fall asleep what

OOO THE JUDGE YELL 

AW YEA

-

“What did I ever do to deserve this?”

you existed in the first place, Apollo. I’m sorry.

-

No.............

I do not like that Phoenix used the phrase, “Witness, I think it’s time for you to come clean.”

You know who uses phrases like that.

Assholes.

-

“You should know I always come fully prepared, Justice!”

( buy it, buy it, buy it, buy it––)

-

...Right, so Phoenix isn’t a prosecutor but he sure as hell has been doing a lot of prosecutorial things. Calling all the witnesses, explaining the case, etc.

Oh and he and and Atishon still didn’t tell anybody that Buff was most likely murdered right off the bat so ffffffuck you capcom 

-

Fuck you, Datz. Stop laughing and fucking focus on the fact that you’ve been accused of murder and it’s kinda tough on your ol’ pal Apoll– oh wait silly me i forgot none of you give a rats ass about him. All you do is laugh and eat and sit around waiting for Sadmad to come home.

-

“Better brace yourself, son”

Hey guess what Dad warranty expires if you haven’t made or tried to make contact in 20 years so get that word out of your nasty mouth, Dhurke.

-

“Worried this might make a rift between you two...

...and that you might then leave the agency”

haha

“Hahaha. She has an active imagination”

hahahah

hahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahhAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA

-

“...Nothing a little persuasion couldn’t handle.”

Capcom. If it was something douchey. I will tear you in half.

-

SEXY PAN UP SHOT FOR

robot guy

-

i remember when i used to be excited for each new case. now I'm just scared what new horrors the next will bring.

-

hang on why does the drone not have a special sound font? if it didnt disguise the operator’s voice it would be kind of obvious who they were...

-

HOLY SHIT MISSILES

SO... THE WHOLE “BOMBS IN THE COURTROOM ARE HORRIFIC THING” FROM DD IS JUST FORGOTTEN, HUH??

-

hang on.

“Capitalist pig; I’ll turn you into pork stroganoff”

is “Sarge” legit Russian, then? That explains the “Komandir” thing. Shit, I have to change my voice.

-

ok so Sarge is written with an American Sargent phonetic accent, but uses Russian rankings and seems to be communist. What am I missing???

-

“I guess he does dress like he’s in the military...”

hes a paratrooper!!! why dont you know that? i thought you grew up with him.

-

“That’s true. Papa didn’t keep our house locked up.”

...the... archeologist... with a house full of priceless treasures... didn’t lock his fucking doors.

hey congrats for trusting the mediums and all but guess what? thats irresponsible as fuck and incredibly stupid for a supposed thief so I'm kinda surprised it took you this long to be discovered/bumped off.

-

those have got to be nerf bullets cause firing a GUN in court is just fucking ridiculous. like too far for Ace Attorney. Melee weapons, ok. Long range firearms? No.

...Though... Note to self... Next time, when creating parody prosecutor, you now have legit grounds to just give him a fucking gun........

-

“Sorry, but I’m afraid lawyers are missile-proof.”

Note to self. Upgrade gag prosecutor to missile launcher.

-

ooh, i see this drone is in the same vein as the Assassin’s Radio.

-

“Courtroom warriors don’t use guns or missiles, because evidence is our weapon of choice!”

Ahah! THATS why prosecutors are so violent. They never have any evidence to back up their assertions so they just fuckin ASSAULT people.

-

i... had a little chuckle at ‘truth bomb’

-

“What’s with him and Siberia of all places?”

Well context wise it seems he's some kind of... Defected-to-communist American?

-

Huh. Athena’s powers must be based purely on sound waves then. Interesting. 

Anyway, it’s mood matrix time! Hooray!!! I’ve warmed a lot to the Mood Matrix to be honest. I like the glowy lights.

-

I’m gonna make a guess right now that something was on fire. Cause thats some PTSD shit right there.

-

pfft the gallery was so on board with their new judge overlord. Also thank goodness this is Ace Attorney and this shit is allowed to fly, cause you’d get your ass handed to you if you tried this in real court, pal.

-

Um, I wouldn’t dig any deeper if sarge is still in such a state. It’s not... safe. Either that or you best hope that thing’s bottomless magazine has run out. Plus, I love that whoever’s watching over the actual Sarge in the Lobby hasn’t tried to stop them when they noticed them SCREAMING AND PRESSING THE ‘FIRE’ BUTTON REPEATEDLY.

Or they’ve left Sarge unattended and the Dark Age of the law isn't over because it was an omnipresent thing to begin with...

-

its ok, game. contrary to what you think, you did write Sarge’s backstory in a memorable enough way for me to remember it up until now.

-

Huh. 

HUH.

So... the person involved in writing Ace Attorney Investigations... Has written a sequence in which we must burn evidence to prove a point, huh?

:T

-

DONT YOU HINT AT ME, GAME

-

that solemn moment of reflection doesn’t include Phoenix cause he’s over behind his desk bawling his eyes out

“I’LL BE YOUR NEW PAPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

-

actually Athena’s got a point. Her tragic backstory is much more similar to Sarge’s than Apollo’s. She can properly relate to losing one’s last family member in a horrific way.

-

S––

Well, considering her age, Cutesie Pan-up shot for Armie.

-

Apollo’s having serious Robin Newman flashbacks right about now

-

ahhhhhhhhhh. her mom was Russian. It all makes sense. Tbh just for now, forgetting everything else, this kind of does feel like an old case. I’m at peace... for now.

-

i guess it’s less of an orb and more of some kind of lantern then. Cause you can’t really burn a crystal

unless its

whitcrystal

hahah

hahahahahahahhaha

-

so far I'm ranking the cases from best to worst: Magical, This part of Revolution, Foreign, Rite and Storyteller. 

-

sgsjgsjsjjs athena’s INTENSE LOOK OF HUNGER as Apollo burns the orb

“I wanna see me some sweet mama goddess”

-

damn shit thats her face

thats uh

o

ohhhh

oh i see. I was wondering what the ‘great power’ the orb could bestow upon people was, and now I realize that since it depicts her face, if someone knows her name, they could channel her. And since she's basically an actual goddess that would bestow some serious power.

not bad, not bad at all.

i know i highly dislike Kooraheen but i legit feel kinda blessed

-

“The issue is crystal clear”

*seals phoenix’s fate with a fucking pun*

-

dont keep saying “did we just win” before the verdict is handed down, you'll jinx it.

-

oh hey, blackmail. its like a perfect reenactment of Capcom getting Phoenix to sign onto this sequel.

-

Phoenix: According to the legend, once the founder returned... She would bestow spiritual power onto the person who solved the riddle.

Apollo: ...Y-youre kidding, right?!

[Apollo looks flummoxed, the gallery whispers. We cut back to Phoenix’s smirk, and then––”

???: Phoenix... Just give it up.

[Phoenix screams in shock. We pan back to Apollo......... Who now has D-Cup breasts and a very familiar face.]

/...i wish.

-

legit tho i cant believe he's trying to pull this. I'm cackling

this is the lawyeriest lawyer ploy ive ever seen

-

“What’s gotten into him?”

bad writing.

-

sdsgsdhjafhgj EVEN THE JUDGE IS CALLING BULLSHIT IM CRYI

-

(sigh) i guess we’re really gonna have to finish this, aren’t we. oh well. on we go! let’s forge ahead!

-

y’know i just remembered that Pearl appeared like, once in this. Was that her only part? I guess she just existed to remind us that Kurain village used to have girls in it.

-

noooooooo fuuuuuuuuuuck

i really hope the contradiction doesn’t require pressing because i aint sitting thru this fuck’s antics again.

-

it has rounded corners.

and its huge.

-

phoenix and apollo’s objections are too similar, i can never tell who’s screaming.

-

“There haven't been many murders there, I take it”

well........ not “many”

-

i love that Atishon pledges to banish murdeer from Kurain village and Apollo is all “yea good luck with that” like Murder is inevitable, even in a tiny village like Kurain.

Thats. kinda terrifying.

...though considering the way Kurain is...

-

i cant tell phoenix and apollo’s voices apart (sigh)

i never know whose objecting 

-

Phoenix: my client couldn't have viewed the murder directly from where he said he was, but the fact remains that he had inside knowledge of said crime!

...phoenix, you’re just trying to help apollo along, right? you didnt seriously believe that that sounded positive to your case, instead of Shady as Fuck, right??

-

“You talk big, Mr. Justice, but do you have what it takes?”

he just finished telling Phoenix he was about to put what Phoenix taught him into practice. Phoenix should be swallowing a lump in his throat and trying not to cry of pride right now.

-

“that suitcase could be a weapon anyone could use!”

yeah... yeah! even someone in a wheelchair!! oh wait wrong case.

..........but we still have someone in a wheelchair

-

a 3D crimscene view

haven't seen that shit since AAAJ

-

‘THAT SHITSTAIN ON THE BOOK PROVES HE WAS HAVIN THE COFFEE SQUIRTS, CASE CLOSED BOYS”

sorry i just felt like being vulgar

-

“and there it is, the final excuse cornered killers are so fond of”

holy shit

i love apollo

-

phoenix shut up please, just shut up

let it end

let me rest

-

oh wait

ah here we go.

-

“hes a bright young politician with a future ahead of him, its in our nations best interests to avoid burdening him with the taint of scandal”

hey, uh Enshiro

ill never forgive you for putting those words in Phoenix Wright’s mouth

-

“Lawyer! Do something! Or a bad thing will happen to ‘her’!”

no? nobody else heard that incredibly obvious threat? nobodys gonna

“whats he talking about? well, i can ponder that later. for now...”

FUCK

YOU

DO YOU HAVE A BRAIN THAT IS CONNECTED TO YOUR FUCKING EARS?!

HOW THICK HEADED DO YOU HAVE TO FFUCKING BE TO NOT RECOGNIZE A GODDAMN THREAT WHEN YOU HEAR ONE YOU 

YOU

YOU PUTRID PICKLED RED PEPPER?!?!??!?!

-

Athena: oh yeah i also heard Atishon making blatant threats at Phoenix but meh, phoenix made me pinky swear not to tell. 

I’m not shitting a lung in fury, I’m just getting rid of an organ i dont need through the nearest available passage. I’m perfectly calm and not cursing this game, Eshiro and his entire team to the pits of their own stupid made up hell.

-

“I had no idea. This must’ve been excruciating for him.”

i wanted to write a sarcastic jingle but i had trouble coming up with rhymes, so the blunt bottom line is:

when you’re not good at writing, simply steal clever and impactful plots from previous iterations so that you’ll seem clever and exciting

i mean

nobody even remembers Farewell my Turnabout anymore, right????

-

what the fuck is his deal with being king

-

OH SHUT UP DURKE 

GO FUCK YOURSELF

think youre gonna steal Franziska and Mia’s thunder????????????? no

you aren’t a fucking fraction of an inch as cool as either of them.

-

“he’s saved my neck so many times”

w

when

-

“where there’s a will, there’s a way”

how about where theres a whip, theres a better game?

-

“wait................... maybe we can summon the founder now that we can see her face??”

aww. you got there in the end, didnt you apollo.

-

...that doesnt automatically spare Maya’s life. Pearl is also a spirit medium. And i’m fairly certain there are other–– oh wait SOJ retconned that neverMIND

anyway, Atishon could still bump Maya off and then force Pearl to channel Mamma Kooraheen

-

OH MY GOD HE JUST BROUGHT UP PEARL

WHY PEOPLE ARE SO STUPID 

-

WIMPERSON BROUGHT UP PEARL

THE IDIOT VILLAIN BROUGHT UP THE FLAW IN YOUR BRILLIANT PLAN 

GSEGFISGUILSGIULSGUI;SRHG

-

“pearl wouldn't help you if anything happened to maya”

um. you morons think he’d politely ask her to help??? he's already kidnapped someone and threatened their death?? he and his founder aren't above torture or blackmail????????????

you FUCKING MORONS

-

why even bother resigning? just do what you did before and let him go to jail.

-

...this’d better just be a lead up to his breakdown animation 

-

YOU COCKSUCKING FUCKSTAINS JUST END IT ALREADY

END IT END IT END IT EDN TI EDNEI HDFI HSRLG SIHFLIHIR HF;LIVHLSIRHIGHISRHOVGLORIH’WI’HSGOI’WSGZIHSI

-

“if only you'd been smart enough to kill the girl, too...”

wow

-

...what the fuck

well that was... interesting.

-

i cant even celebrate Phoenix congratulating Apollo, I'm just so tired

there are like 85 sarcastic remarks i could make but I'm just so exhausted 

-

yay we got the orb

dootdootdoot dootdootdoot

-

even the judge doesnt want to have anything more to do with this.

im right there with ya judgey

-

“All I can say is, thats my boy!”

NO, YOU DONT GET TO CLAIM PARENTAL PRIDE OF THIS KID

HES NOT YOUR BOY

YOU BARELY RAISED HIM

GO HOME AND DO YOUR SHITTY COUP

-

“Still, its kinda nice to be appreciated”

if only you actually were, Apollo

-

yeah, thought so... ill bet they dont even channel her. cop out.

“tsk, thats no fun” indeed, trucy

-

i love how nobodys like “OK WHERE’S MAYA??? IS SHE OK???”

its fine her whereabouts are unknown and the last info on her was just that her life was in danger

pfffff

-

its alright, Armie has a place at the WAO 

-

"i knew if i admitted i could walk, id have to leave the house”

uh honey newsflash: you can leave the house in a wheelchair too. I'm pretty sure your dad would let you stay inside anyway

-

christ how fucking corny can you get. I CAN WALK AGAIN. why dont we just have Tiny Tim in here throwing away his crutch and dancing a fucking jig

-

see, there we are. Maya’s still in danger you fuck wits.

-

and part one is over, folks! i am pooped. and furious.

till next time.

[novelplanes]

Please, please, please don’t ever catcall. Don’t follow us. Don’t talk to us. Don’t approach us when we’re alone even if it’s in a crowded place - we don’t know you, so honestly you can’t take offense if we treat you like a potential threat. Your actions - your privilege - is already a threat. And I know some men get off on that, as messed up as that is, knowing that he is inflicting power over somebody else by getting in to their space and taking it away, knowing he can affect people who  would otherwise never interact with him.  And nothing pleases me more when someone reclaims their space against him, shoving back against his influence and reducing that man to his true size. I’m angry and hardened enough to want that, but I know that is so often not the case.

Just don’t do it. Don’t encourage it. Don’t be quiet about it. Don’t let your friends or co-workers do it.

And I’ve known enough toxic people in my life whom I know would say not to make a deal out of it. That I’m being to sensitive. That you can just ignore it. That you can tell the guy off. That I should go out at a different time of day, or a different part of town, or not be alone. That that person is just stupid and boys will be boys and that I should be better, I shouldn’t lower myself to react. But please don’t make his behavior - and behavior of men like him - my responsibility. It’s most certainly not. I was just existing in my day, walking from cafe to a pretzel stand to the train station, content and anonymous on the crowded sidewalk, and then I was ripped out of it by them. What he chooses to do is not my fault and he should be held responsible and reprimanded for his behavior, so do not redress me for it.  It wasn’t my poor choice of time, or dress, or location that caused this behavior. He is not restricted by the same limitations and restrictions your kindly suggest to put on me - Even if I tried to limit myself, I’m not safe anytime or anywhere or in any clothes because he still has freedom of mobility. And I refuse to give up my free agency - and do you realize that is what you’re asking me do with your kind suggestions?

Because this is not me just being sensitive.  You think that I’m exaggerating, and because maybe it’s the first time you’ve heard about it and you’ve never experienced being victim and a survivor in any context you could coordinate with what I’m trying to tell you. There’s a difference between ignorant and willing to learn and choosing to be ignorant, so please believe me that this is not the first punch or the first dent in my armor. I’m almost thirty, and my armor has smears of my own blood on it, it has the cum of the man who flashed me on the sidewalk, or the one that followed me home, pulled down his pants, and touched himself while I shakily with terror and fury and vulnerability pressed in my key code as fast as I could, it has holes and dents from hundreds of small conflicts - being catcalled and grabbed on the sidewalk, at the bar, at the park, on the train, at a cafe, in the - - and all the nonviolent incidents, of being overlooked, dismissed, or reprimanded for being a woman or not enough of one or too much of one, as if my shape should be a predetermined thing but really it’s a game we’re being told to play and one in which we can never win, where the winning combination is constantly changing and changing so contradictingly fast, and one where we penalized for losing - or places where the armor is completely broken through - the drunk best friend of my brother coming in to my room when I was teenager, asleep in my bed - or 21, asking him to stop because I didn’t want to go that far and him not stopping -   believe me when I say this is the hundredth moment or maybe the two hundredth or more, I can no longer keep count and I consider myself a very normal, average woman who has had a very average life that has never been too terrible or too great, and I am by no means the exception or the outlier, but I am the median and I am the norm,  that this conflict has been compounded by dozens of others. And yes, it affects me, deeply, because if this situation was reversed, it would be crazier if you remained unaffected by such prolonged violence against your gender than not.  Even if it my body doesn’t hurt, my soul is limping and scarred. This continued situation benefits not me, nor my sisters, nor anyone that I hold dear. I don’t want my future sons crippled by the idea that their masculinity is tied in to how powerless they can make others feel, how they must inflict themselves on others to have a sense of self, to be the loudest, the strongest, the toughest, and resistant to the fact that they too have a soul that can ache and hurt and soar.

Because yesterday I was covered from head to foot, a jacket over a turtleneck, only my hands and my head bared. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon surrounded by dozens and dozens of other pedestrians. It had been, not a wonderful, but a relaxing day, of buying books and reading them at a cafe for a couple hours, and I was soft and vulnerable within myself having spent so much time in my own head, in my own space, and I was content and anonymous in the crowds, safe, I thought - until I saw a group of boys out of the corner of my eyes and the alarm that is so well-tuned and well-used that is connected to every nerve and muscle in my body was set off, back straightening and muscles tensing and heart racing, as I knew a conflict - an infringement and batterment of my space was about to happen.  A shove. A whistle. A howl, pretending to salivate, and shouting as they gained courage from the noise their friends were making, making them bolder. I felt heat in my cheeks, because there were so many people around us, and it was humiliating. My hands shook, and I was suddenly being forced to make a choice and consider how scenarios might play out and I hated that I was being forced to make a choice, that I was being forced into this situation, forced in to putting up a shield and being this person. I contemplated turning around and stomping back to them, getting in their face and telling them off. I thought about just throwing a middle finger over my shoulder. I thought about simply stopping and staring them down to make them as uncomfortable as I felt.  I only had a split second to decide - all i wanted to do was curl in to myself and hurry away, but that was not an option - and I ended up giving them the nastiest look I could manage, teeth bared in a full blown sneer, one corner pulled up further than the other, and violently turning away from them and continuing on my way. My hands were still shaking, even as I bought pretzels and managed a feeble smile at the cashier, and dreaded, because I had to go back the way I came in order to get to the train station.  I tried to call my husband, but there was no answer.  So I steeled myself and chose the opposite side of the street, hoping they were already gone or at least not willing to approach me again. But how fragile male egos are, and I had already belittled and dismissed them in front of the same crowds they had tried to humiliate me in front of (however misguided their idea of a ‘compliment’ might be).  One ducked and maneuvered through the crowded stream of people dividing the cement outer sidewalks, and I only vaguely registered him out of the corner of my eye as I struggled to put the pretzels away in my purse where they wouldn’t get wet.  He tried to grab me.  He said something I didn’t catch, and gave a hunched bowed as I flinched away from him and caught completely off guard - and I knew he was simultaneously afraid of me, afraid of what he was doing despite the fact that he was currently carrying it out, and trying to gain back some of his injured pride by taking away mine- before he turned tail and disappeared back to where his friends must be. I didn’t try to find him.  I ran away, too, hating myself because there were a million different ways I wish I would have handled being a victim (again) that I didn’t - I wish I would’ve raged, I wish I would’ve gone back and threatened to cut off their balls, I wish I would have grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close, promising him retribution and truly cementing a terror in him of ever catcalling a woman again, but my eyesight was already blurred with tears, I hated being forced in to this situation, I hated that I felt guilty for not reacting more strongly, that I felt dirty, and vulnerable, and the trauma of so many different conflicts like this and worse that had already left their scars - and I was completely leveled. I know this situation by itself seems innocuous. But the ramifications are too much. Because I have tried so hard to rebuild myself and survive the damage of previous assaults, and the fact that it came out of nowhere and I had no control over it - It kills me. I worked so hard. So, so fucking hard and these little pissants that would probably forget about it in ten minutes or laugh about it in their cups tonight fucking undid months and months of hard work.

And thank god for my husband. Who called back later and was so pissed off on my behalf and soothed me as I tried not to cry again, telling me without prompting that it wasn’t my fault and that I wasn’t responsible to act any certain way.