#but that's an entirely different and morally grayer conversation

[fictionadventurer]

Any Civil War history from the Confederate perspective (especially early in the war) is always insane from a modern perspective, because no matter what complexities or patriotic feelings they try to bring up, it eventually always boils down to

Confederate: Abraham Lincoln is ACTUAL SATAN!

Me: Okay, that's a pretty serious charge. What makes you say that?

Them: He wants to free the slaves!

Me:

Me:

Me: ....that's it?

Them: What do you mean??

Me: I just thought maybe there'd be something else. Something actually evil.

Them: Isn't that enough??

Me: To put this mildly...no.

Rose Greenhow: He looks like an ape and doesn't know which wine to drink at dinner.

Me: That's just mean and you're a snob. It doesn't mean he's evil. Isn't there anything else?

Them:

Them:

Them: Oh, I got it! He's a tyrant who won't let us secede!

Me: Okay, but why did you want to secede?

Them: Because Lincoln's an evil tyrant who wants to free the slaves!

At which point I throw my hands up in despair, baffled at the extreme cultural and moral gulf.

[siren1song]

Love the View

Summary:  Patton is hiding something and Janus really wants to be in on the secret. Not for any malicious reasons, of course, he just wants Patton to trust him.

Warnings: Putting Others First spoilers, mentions of frogs

Pairing: Moceit

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @izzynuggets, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @remusownsmyuwus, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @demidork84, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @kiribakuandcats, @firey-alex, @nonbinary-royaltea

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Notes: Another motivator fic for @max-is-tired​ , but this time Moceit!!! And it's using a concept I wanted to do since I saw a post about some frogs having heart shaped pupils! Here's the example I used while writing this!

Patton had started wearing sunglasses. Janus wasn’t entirely sure why that was the case, but he had and he wanted to find out.

The only issue was, lately it was practically impossible to get Patton alone long enough to actually ask, and it was driving Janus up a wall not knowing the secret. He was deceit for fucks sake, he was the best secret keeper in the mind-scape and he’d be damned if he was left out.

This definitely wasn’t because he was crushing on Patton ever since he’d paid him one kind smile, absolutely not.

It was because Patton continued to pay him kind smiles and pleasant conversations and soft touches he doubted the others noticed because they were so used to them. Janus wanted Patton to know he could actually trust him now, wanted morality to understand deceit didn’t just mean lying to save face for selfish reasons.

Deceit could also be hiding secrets shared with someone trusted, could mean thrills and excitement up until a reveal, could mean so many things that weren’t typically seen as awful when it came to black and white thinking.

Not that Janus wanted Patton to subscribe to black and white morality. The world and morality were so much grayer than Thomas had learned growing up, and Janus could honestly see Patton making a valiant effort to recognize that.

It… kind of made the crush he was trying desperately to deny that much worse.

“Patton!” he called, noticing movement in the hallway he’d been hovering in and realizing that the moral side had been hoping to slip passed him.

He’d been so much worse about getting lost in his thoughts lately, going to see Remus again would be… an interesting adventure with how little Janus had been practicing his reflexes.

Janus caught up to Patton quickly, though not because Patton had actually waited for him, and he grabbed his elbow to slow him to a stop.

“Ah! Hi Janus! Did you enjoy dinner? I know Logan’s not the most imaginative when it comes to what to eat, but I’ve lost my glasses and It’s really not the best idea to cook when I can barely see, ya know?”

Listening to Patton ramble, Janus felt his brow furrow in confusion.

“Don’t you and Logan have the same prescriptions?” he asked, tugging on Patton’s arm a little to try and get him to face him.

Patton resisted, and Janus tried his best not to feel hurt.

“Ah… Yes, we do. But Logan likes to read when he’s waiting for dinner, I didn’t wanna take that from him.”

“You also don’t want me to see your eyes for some reason, right?” Janus asked, humming when Patton tensed.

“Well… You’re not the only one I don’t want to see ‘em, Jay-Jay,” Patton said, and Janus had to force back the pleased grin at the nickname.

He was able to be given nicknames now, how absolutely wonderful.

“Right,” he started, loosening his grip on Patton’s arm, “would you like to explain why that is?”

Patton seemed to sigh, though it wasn’t a heavy sigh of agitation, or even one of impatience. Just seemed to be… building himself up to something.

“Well… It’s a different reason for you, than it is for everyone else. And that’s not because of you being deceit! I promise that, it’s… more because of your scales, I guess?”

Janus frowned, his confusion growing and his grip growing so lax his hand slipped from Patton’s arm.

“What do my scales have anything to do with the way your eyes look?” he asked, and then realization dawned.

“I can feel you understanding from here, Jay-Jay,” Patton teased, and Janus just rolled his eyes in response, even if he wasn’t facing him to see.

“Okay, so your eyes have changed and you don’t want me to see them because… you believe I’ll think you’re appropriating a non-human look?” he clarified, humming when Patton nodded.

“Yeah, that’s basically it. Though… I guess you know now anyway, huh?”

“I do, and really I don’t care, since that’s what you’re so worried about. Would you… mind showing me?” he asked, trying not to let his hope of finally, finally getting to know the secret Patton had been keeping.

Patton let out a weak giggle, then finished turning to look down at Janus with a cautious smile.

Janus, meanwhile, was a little breath taken because Patton’s pupils were in the shape of hearts, his irises taking over the sclera and making them resemble a frogs. He supposed the frog-shifting had left something behind after all.

“Have they been like this the whole time?” he asked, taking a step closer, pausing only long enough to turn on a light with the wave of his hand so he could see Patton’s eyes better.

Patton shrugged, glancing away for a moment only to look right back at Janus when he made a noise of protest.

“Not exactly? I mean, they weren’t like this when I told you that you weren’t wrong about everything, remember? But I woke up the next day and when I looked in the mirror they were just… like this. Been stealing Sleep’s sunglasses since then, since I’m not the greatest at conjuring things and Roman is ah… out of commission right now.”

Janus nodded, pulling his cane (conjured really, but he had to keep up the dramatic aesthetic) from his caplet, hooking it around Patton’s neck and pulling him lower. Patton yelped a little in surprise, and Janus vaguely registered the blush on his face, but he was a little more focused on picking out the way Patton’s eyes had changed.

“Cute,” he commented, a teasing smile taking over his face when he focused on Patton’s entire face when he squeaked and noticed his blush had grown deeper in response to the compliment.

“I, um, well goodness, Jay-Jay, thank you! But can you let me go? Hunching over like this isn’t the greatest for my back,” he said, returning Janus’ smile.

Nodding, Janus started to raise his cane to let Patton unbend his back. And then an idea occurred to him, and he stopped before Patton could get too far.

He probably shouldn’t… but Patton’s current frog eyes were cute, and Janus still very much had a crush on him… Maybe just one?

Mind made up, Janus quickly, and carefully, pulled Patton back down into range so could place a quick kiss on his cheek before finally letting him go.

“Thank you for showing me, Patton, I’ll let you go look for those sunglasses Remy probably stole back,” he said, ignoring his own blush as he grinned at Patton’s starstruck look.

“Remy?” he asked, though his tone was a little absentminded.

Janus just winked and turned on his heel, walking back to his room where he’d been originally heading and ignoring his increasing heart rate.

“Oh! Like REM sleep!” Patton called, just as Janus closed his bedroom door behind him.

Gods above and below, Janus might have more than a crush on Morality “Patton” Sanders.

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, BELLA, you have been accepted to AL for the role of FRANK LONGBOTTOM (FC: John Boyega). add some comments and stuff here. BELLYBOO! Wow, what a great app! It’s so exciting to have Frank here, and your portrayal of him just made me fall even more in love with him and your writing. OMG I can’t wait to see some of your plot ideas play out. Rachie is about to be PUMPED. Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — bella! hi it’s me. age — 24. pronouns — she/hers/her. timezone — pst. activity level — i would give myself somewhere around a seven, but i always post at least twice a week.

IC Overview

name —franklin ibiyemi longbottom. faceclaim — john boyega age — 29. gender —cis-male. sexuality — heterosexual. patronus — elephant; frank is formidable, but not in the way that alastor moody is formidable. he’s a calming presence, one that brings people together, especially in times of crisis. he’s also known to be the protector, the person who will make sure others in his life are put first. his father’s patronus was also an elephant, and it’s a fact that he wears with pride. boggart — when frank was a little boy, a boggart escaped from a cabinet in his mother’s office. then, the creature appeared to him as a gigantic spider, scrambling around the house after him as he screeched for one of his family members. when frank was in school, slughorn allowed him to see another boggart. then, it was the thought of not being successful. of not living up to his mother’s expectations. it was an image of himself living on the side of the road, alone and without anyone in his family by his side. when he was finally an auror, it was his own death. he was so afraid of losing himself to the cause that it became his biggest fear.

his boggart has changed throughout his life. maybe that means that he’s always been scared; always been afraid of what might be. although he hasn’t seen a boggart recently, frank is certain it would be the loss of alice or neville, which is maybe his biggest fear of all. he now has a family, and he would be lost if he were to lose them.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+ compassionate: frank has always been kind. he’s had a heart for those who need it; a keen eye to help when someone is hurting. he’s never known how he got pushed into the role of being the person people lean on, but he enjoys it. he enjoys knowing that he can make someone feel better with a long talk or a cuppa. it quite reminds him of his father, stern and stoic as he was. their ability to soothe was similar, and frank had always admired that in himself.

+ flexible: although steadfast in his morals, frank is not one to be stubborn. he easily bends his mind if it means that the job (or the conversation) will be easier. it makes him a good friend; a person who is easy to apologize for mistakes he’s made or the person hew as in the past. frank learns easily and doesn’t like to stay in one spot. he hopes to grow, and knows that it is impossible to do so if he isn’t flexible.

- over-protective: although he, sometimes, finds his protectiveness a use, for the most part it just gets in frank’s way. he can’t seem to stop protecting the people he cares about. if he knows they need help, he will over-help to the point where they might start to resent him. frank doesn’t know when to stop, and he truly doesn’t know what it does to the people around. he doesn’t realize that he might be stepping over lines that he shouldn’t be crossing.

- paranoid: hand-in-hand with his over-protectiveness is frank’s paranoia. especially since the war ended, frank has almost sounded like a conspiracy-theorist. he knows with every inch of his being  that the war will come back. he knows that he must take every precaution to keep them safe. this makes him not only a bit less present in his family life but in his job. he’s not quite sure how to stop it but it’s taking a toll on his mental health as well. it’s not long before he knows his physical health will go down the drain too.

character biography —

When Frank was born, no one would’ve expected him to turn out an auror. He was scared of everything: from too hot pans to tiny bugs that would appear in the kitchen. No one could understand how this child was the product of one Augusta and Abaeze Longbottom. For many years, Frank couldn’t understand it himself. His mother was on the Wizengamot and his father, having immigrated from Nigeria, rose his way in a new country through the Department of Mysteries (like his father before him). They were fearless supporters of muggleborn rights (although Augusta was not exactly the best at showing that support outside the debate room), bright minds leading Wizarding England into the future. Meanwhile, Frank couldn’t even learn to hold his wand properly without fumbling when a spark shot out of it.

Of course, that put a slight strain on his relationship with his parents, especially his mother. Where Abaeze had learned to be patient, Augusta had learned frustration. She would often get short with her son if he wasn’t able to figure out a spell and, even at a young age, expected nothing more than her son to be perfect. Frank tried as hard as he could to please her, and earned the reputation of a goody-two-shoes. Where other pure blood kids would sneak off at social gatherings to play games, Frank remained either with a book in his hand or socializing with those adults whom his mother hoped to please. And, a part of him never minded. He adored his alone time, especially if they meant settling in with a good book. Nothing to scare him there. Only words and stories that he longed to be real. He’d practically exhausted the selection in their home library by the time his Hogwarts letter arrived.

Frank finally was given an owl and a wand (his own wand! something he could hold and not fear an explosion from), and was sent off on the Express with few words of wisdom and money for pasties on the train. He was determined to make friends this go round, after all, muggleborns and halfbloods would be here as well. Maybe it was fate that he ended up in Alice’s cart. He knew of her, of course, from pureblood society, and was disappointed at first not to meet someone different. That disappointment quickly turned to a feeling of luck. He’d never met anyone who he’d bonded with faster than Alice Rosier.

When they got to Hogwarts, he was shocked to find the hat almost instantly shouting Gryffindor! upon touching his head. As if a switch had been flipped, Augusta wrote with a letter saying how proud she was that her son was in the same house as her. A bit of the pressure she’d put on him began to lessen, especially as Frank’s grades proved to be formidable. Soon, although still afraid of a lot, Frank began following in his parents’ footsteps. He even got detention once for trying to stop a Slytherin pureblood from hurting a first year muggleborn. His mother had cried tears of pride upon hearing that fact (although Frank still got a talking to as to why it was wrong to curse a bully and not talk to them first).

It was on a warm spring day that an Auror visited their Defense Against the Dark Arts class and talked about what it was like to work as a premiere wizarding law enforcement agent. Frank was star-struck. Starting his fourth year, Frank came into school with a new purpose and it wasn’t long before he started to look forward to the future. With a recommendation from both Flitwick and McGonagall, Frank was almost instantly accepted to the program, especially upon getting Head Boy in his final year of school. It was sometime in there (although Frank never was certain when he fell in love with Alice, he always just was in love with her) that he’d asked Alice to be his girlfriend. When they became aurors together, well, that was just a cherry on a very tasty cake.

And then the war started.

It was almost like his dream turned slowly into a nightmare. The bright edges turned a little bit grayer. Yet, there were always moments of sunshine. He and Alice got married and had Neville. Frank thought he knew love; thought he knew what it meant to be in love, but then Neville was born and it was like the entire world had stopped. The prophecy was spoken and he felt as though he were going to explode every day with the thought of keeping his son safe. He didn’t expect what was to happen next. He didn’t know that it would be his mother to be the one to save his son.

To this day, he wishes it were him. Frank feels a deep sense of regret that his father was left alone because his mother did what he couldn’t. Of course, he wasn’t home. Alice and himself were on a mission. It’s been five years and he still feels a deep sense of guilt for what happened to his mother. And, surprisingly, he misses her. He misses her quips and her over-the-top speeches. He misses her silly outfits and the way she had to wear her hat just right. But most of all, he misses the fact that he had just started to become friends with his mum. The war is over but he can’t help but think that it might start up again. And Frank refuses to lose anyone. No, not this time. Frank would be damned if he let anyone take away his family again.

plot ideas —

madness: i want to see what happens if frank lets his paranoia take over. he’s got a good heart, but what if he thinks his family is in trouble? what if he thinks that alice or neville might be at risk again? he would go to any lengths to see them safe, even if that means betraying what he believes in.

grief: i don’t think that frank has ever truly dealt with what happened with his mother. he has never given himself the time to realize what happened to her and take a breath. he has been so consumed with taking care of everyone else, namely his dad, that he hasn’t thought about taking care of himself. what happens if he gives in to his grief? what happens if he finds himself falling in too deep?

care: frank cares deeply about his friends and he can’t imagine what lily potter is going through right now. while he wants to make sure remus was alright, he also hopes that the young mother is taking care of herself as well. while he knows there’s not much he could do, the thought of losing alice in an attack was enough to make him want to help in any way he can.

worry: while he knows that remus doesn’t need the care, he worries about the younger man. his status as a werewolf is precarious at best, and frank doesn’t know just how to help. he fears he’s overdoing it. and what if he is? what if he’s pushing remus away because he cares too much? it’s the dad in him, of course, but he hopes he won’t lose a friend in his paranoia.

family: frank knows that alice is having a rough time lately, just like his father. they are both feeling as guilty as he is, and he hopes to take some of that guilt off their shoulders. besides, he loves alice more than anything in the world. maybe it’s time that he shows them what his love means.

work: i want something to go terribly wrong for frank at work. i think up to this point he’s had no conflict there. he’s good at his job, but what if his paranoia makes him suffer? what if his inability to stop makes him lose some of his security?

[raystart]

When You Like Work Made by a Jerk, is Lack of Support Enough?

A monthly trip through a land of design and nonsense with executive editor Perrin Drumm. Opinions are most definitely her own.

We’ve all loved an asshole at some point in our lives. We’ve worked with them, dated them, been born by them, voted for them. The asshole comes in many forms, so how can you spot one in the wild? And then, how do you take it down?

I bring it up because assholes seem to be spending more time in the spotlight today (though the word itself dates back to the 1300s), which is both a good and bad thing: Bad when the asshole is in a position of power; good when that position exposes the depths of their true asshole nature. Good, too, when people acknowledge that what’s revealed is a bad thing, indeed; but bad when nothing is done about it. I’ve simplified this horribly, but there is nothing simple about asshole hunting.

Sometimes the asshole is not shy about their asshole-ness, and wears it like a merit badge. Sometimes the asshole is so clever we don’t even realize we’re in the company of one until after we’ve laughed at their jokes or accepted a meeting or a job. Sometimes this person is a secret asshole, privately cruel to those closest to them, who help the asshole keep their truth hidden while the rest of the world spins around them unaware, basking in the asshole’s glow.

When Kurt Vonnegut wrote (and illustrated) Breakfast of Champions in 1973, he included a crude picture of an asshole, an indication of the “maturity” of the drawings throughout the book, and perhaps a warning to prudish readers to turn back now. Not all assholes announce themselves so plainly. I loved Vonnegut’s asshole drawing so much (not enough to get it tattooed on me like some of his super fans) that I made an etching of it for a letterpressed booklet I made to accompany my MFA lecture on satire (a pedagogical artifact I was recently reminded of via, of all things, my mom’s Instagram). As far as I can tell, Vonny wasn’t one of the notorious writer-assholes you often hear about, but then again I’m not doing too much digging lest I discover otherwise (Charles Dickens was spoiled for me that way).

Which brings me to the topic of this month’s column: when assholes, degenerates, and other moral reprobates make great work, is it okay to like it? Is it ever possible to separate good work from its not-so-good creator?

Asshole page from “Breakfast of Champions”

If you’re a regular 99U reader you know it’s something the whole team here (like the rest of the world) has been thinking a lot about, so we put the question to three top designers in our new series, Design Debate, where we hear three distinct points of view that might get you to reconsider yours. This time, Erik Carter, Debbie Millman, and Paula Scher took the topic to places I never expected it go, and highlighted some of the grayer areas, like: what if someone’s not an outright sexual predator, but you simply disagree with their stance on a controversial subject? Debbie talks about loving The Handmaid’s Tale, but the fact that Elizabeth Moss is a Scientologist? Not so much. Personally, I’ll watch anything Ms. Moss is in, unless it’s a video about Dianetics.

Knowing that a work, whether it’s a song or a painting or a logo, was created by an angel incarnate doesn’t make me appreciate the work any more, so in theory, why should a song or a painting or a logo created by an asshole make me like it any less? That’s easy to say in theory, or from the safety and sense of removal provided by an art gallery. But what if you know the asshole in question? I’ve known plenty of assholes who also make great work, and while I’m able to appreciate the work for what it is, I sort of wave it away after that. Like, Okay this is nice, good, next. I move on before I can really consider the relationship between the work and its maker. I don’t let myself go there. It’s a cowardly move, and I don’t consider myself a cowardly person. When people bring up how Picasso was kind of a dick, I counter with how I’m actually not that big of a fan, so I don’t have to deal, right? Ditto for Dali and Diego Rivera. But if I ever learned that Paul Klee or Joan Miró were assholes, I’d be forced to reconsider. And what about a museum’s obligation here? If I was deciding between two paintings I loved equally, I’d go with the one by the non-asshole. But that’s personal. If it was for the MoMA’s permanent collection, I’d say, take them both.

Eric Gill’s Girl in Bath II, 1923 – the model for which was his daughter Petra. Image c/o Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft

Let’s bring this even closer to home with a famous asshole who crossed the line: type designer Eric Gill, who’s celebrated for achievements like his universally beloved Gill Sans, even though he molested his two young daughters for years, a fact that history has kindly helped us forget. He’s dead now, but should we treat his legacy any differently than we’d treat him were he still alive? Last year the Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft considered this in its exhibition of his work, but the resulting conversation was uneasy at best. One critic noted of her fellow critics, that “Perhaps they were worried that, for all their expertise, they did not have the right language to discuss Gill’s behavior towards his older daughters, Betty and Petra (a sheet we were given on arrival informed us, for instance, that some organizations working in this field believe it is better to use the terminology ‘a person who has experienced violence’ than the words ‘victim’ or ‘survivor’). Or perhaps they feared how they might sound to others—hard-hearted? Politically incorrect?”

It’s easy enough to retire Gill Sans and simply choose another typeface (Paula Scher recommends Johnston Sans, by Edward Johnston, an early influence on Gill’s work), but should more be done? If Gill were alive today, surely he’d be one of the figures at the heart of the #metoo movement, which so far seems to have skirted the design industry (though I’m taking bets on how long it can hold out). Should we treat him any differently just because he’s (thankfully) no longer with us?

Some people, afraid of accidentally supporting the “wrong guy,” are erring so far on the side of caution as to leave no room for discourse. The Manchester Art Gallery may claim that removing the painting “Hylas and the Nymphs,” by JW Waterhouse was an act of discretion (the nudes are of adolescent girls), not of censorship, but how does hiding “tricky issues about gender, race and representation” according to curator Clare Gannaway, further valuable conversation on those issues? You don’t make a statement by backing out of the room.

The Ditchling’s Nathaniel Hepburn, who curated the Gill show, wants to spark meaningful discourse between the museum and the public, albeit by entirely different means. “I don’t want to censor which works we show because we don’t have the confidence of language to be able to interpret them properly.” So far that’s meant amplifying all the voices in the room, with no clear arbiter. It’s a noisy, messy business, but before the dust settles it must be kicked up.

Have an asshole story of your own you care to share? Tweet us @99U, or DM me @perrindrumm.

And because you haven’t seen enough useless GIFs lately, here are a few taken from great movie moments featuring assholes: