#but the fact that the choice feels 50/50 on so many levels is really cool. the geopolitical balance and cultural clash is really fun.

[neverendingford]

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[lordfrezon]

I want to tell a story

It’s a weird story about a bunch of silly things but mostly about metagames and Magic: The Gathering.

In terms of seriousness this is pretty much as unserious as can be.  No one lost money, no one was hurt, no one probably thinks about this besides me, but this was one of the more fascinating weeks in my life and really influences how I think about game design as a whole.

Let’s dive in.

The year is early 2011.  I am in my senior year of high school.  As one does back then, I am playing Magic: The Gathering more or less daily.  I’ve got a set of about seven friends all doing more or less the same, and we’re having a grand time of it.  Mirrodin Besieged is coming out soon and we’re all down with Phyrexian madness.  I’m graduating in a few months to go out to Massachusetts so I’m just chilling on a victory lap.

Importantly to those playing Magic today, but EDH/Commander, while a thing and popular, was not yet The Thing for casual Magic players.  The commander decks had not yet come out (though had been announced and we were all hyped for them) and the shear density of legends was a thing of the future.  Our format of choice was 60-card casual, either in duals or multiplayer.  My traditional weapons at the time tended to be Naya decks with a lot of landfall and lifegain.  You could expect two artifact synergy decks on the regular.  Mill was a pretty common way to die.  Times were good.

Our story begins in earnest with the release of Premium Deck Series: Fire and Lightning.  For the unaware, this was an all-foil deck WotC put out that was, while crap in terms of reprint value today, a pretty stacked burn deck for a casual table.  My one friend, labeled A here for convenience, had the most cards and had gotten this deck recently.  It was very devastating in duals and we had an amusing time getting annihilated by Lightning Bolts, pingers, and various haste creatures.  Then that deck went back into his collection and we resumed our previously scheduled nonsense.

But A was getting burnt out (heh).  There’s only so many times you can play the same sort of matches before Magic gets stale, everyone who’s played the game knows the feeling.  And so he goes searching the internet for something new.

2011, for those not playing, was possibly the absolute peak of Magic writing.  Big name competitive players were playing weekly at the StarCityGames circuit and then writing about their new decks with cards that would skyrocket in value.  Jace, the Mindsculptor was approaching his height of $100.  The original dual lands, based on hype over Commander as well as Legacy being an actual format people played, were seeing a big rise as well.  Due to this, there were several websites all vying for new, popular writers to make content that would push sales to their storefront of choice. 

While a lot of this was competitively focused, there was also a ton of casual articles coming out as well.  While again, EDH was a popular format, 50%+ of the articles being written were for various 60 card formats.  2-Headed-Giant and Emperor were things people did with regularity.  Star was the pinnacle of multiplayer.  And it is in one of the articles that A found the reason why this is being written, a format that I’ll be calling Pauper Vanguard League.

For the unaware, Vanguard is an established Magic format from way back in the day.  The idea is that you have this avatar that alters your starting life, hand size, and gives you some ability.  There were a couple printed and they’re kinda cool if wildly disparate in power level.  This format gave people an amount of points to create their own vanguard.  You could buy more life, more cards in hand, benefits for your creatures, reduced cost, whatever.  This, A thought, would be the salvation, this would rekindle the spark.  Plus, the fact that it was commons only meant that no one would get priced out, and you could change your deck with ease! So he brought it to the morning meetup before school on Monday, we read the article, all thought the idea sounded dope, and got to building when we went home instead of doing homework.

I don’t recall what the first deck I built was, probably something green and landfall based.  I do remember that it was A who brought in a modified version of that Fire and Lightning deck and absolutely cleaned up.  Not paying for any life beyond the base 10 and just upping his opening hand size meant that his opener had enough burn to kill pretty much anyone.  It was crazy how brutal and efficient it was.

Tuesday comes along.  Everyone knew who the top dog was.  Burn was public enemy number one.  Fortunately for me, you could buy abilities for all your creatures as part of your Vanguard.  One of these abilities was lifelink.  Excellent!  I’ll give all my dumb green creatures lifelink, and that’ll do the trick.  No more dying to burn!

But wait, I realized, why should I be playing green creatures anymore?  The best strategy had been shown to us: Burn.  I should be playing a Burn deck, but a Burn deck designed to beat the mirror.  Make my Burn deck more creature-heavy, a little bigger, and give my creatures lifelink and haste.  Boom, now burn spells to my face are terrible and I can just demolish the Burn decks that haven’t figured out the new rules.

And the metagame clock ticks one minute closer to midnight.

I arrive the next day and to the surprise of not me, everyone is rocking Burn but with different augments (you were allowed to minorly respec your Vanguard daily and we got more points daily too).  I’m the only one who figured out the lifelink tech, but others are running +1/+1 to creatures, lower costs of spells, more life, all sorts of stuff.  A’s burn deck is old news and demolished.  I do pretty well, lifelink being very good in the Burn mirrors which were 75%+ of what I played that day.  Satisfied, I go home, add some new abilities, and get ready for another day.

And the metagame clock ticks one minute closer to midnight.

Thursday morning comes.  It does not take me long to realize that I too have now become the prey.  People have switched from Burn and are now on White Weenie, buying the ability to use some number of uncommon cards.  Have you ever played against a Silver Knight with +1/+1 and lifelink?  While you are playing Burn?  It was nightmarish.  But there was some diversity.  Some people were playing things like my green deck from Tuesday but with the anti-red tech.  Some people were experimenting with artifact decks.  But it was all focused on ensuring that Burn would not be a thing. Burn was now extinct. 

That night I came up with a plan.  The cards I was now fighting were small-medium creatures on the ground.  They were played in large numbers but the decks had no staying power, being built to beat up on fast aggro decks.  Despite being nominally cheap creatures, they were midrange decks in the metagame where everyone’s spells cost one less and every creature had lifelink. 

My idea to beat these decks was to out-grind them.  It was going to be Friday, and Friday was club day, so I needed a deck that would win because I was gonna play a lot.  So I built a mono-blue deck.  One-mana Mana Leak, two mana Divination and Cancel.  Some walls.  The deck was designed to stop others trying to play a proactive game and grind them out.  Once I had the game under control, Ulamog’s Crusher with lifelink would annihilate them out of it. 

And the metagame clock hits midnight.

It’s Friday and everyone realizes something has gone wrong.  We are in a metagame where everyone is still tuned to beating red decks that no longer exist.  The plot has been lost.  I’m winning games, but I realize that it’s wrong, that the room is inbred to fight something and everyone is just hitting each other with bigger and bigger creatures.  Someone figures out some new combination of abilities to next level everyone else but it doesn’t matter.  We’ve hit the point of no return.  This is The Metagame Disaster.

On the next Monday we agree to an alternative points system (probably should have found this one first) but everyone appears to agree that this experiment is over.  We’ve got useless decks that literally do not function without specific rules in place.  We switch back to our normal decks and try our best to move past last week.

It’s a day or two later that A admits to me that he’s been feeling burnout, and I suggest Type 4, a cube draft format where you have infinite mana but can only play one spell a turn.  I turn him towards articles written by several people (yours truly included https://www.coolstuffinc.com/a/introducing-type-4 ), and he thinks it sounds fun as hell, builds a cube, realizes quickly that Compulsion is busto, and we all build different cubes to just play from the top of.  Our final spring together continues with gusto and joy and we eventually get back into some more EDH and 60-card.

What did I learn here?  Obviously, I didn’t take this all in at the time, but more and more I can see how it echoes into my game design philosophies.  Given time, people will optimize the fun out of anything.  Some things in games are worth more than others.  Without some effects found at higher rarity, common games turn into grindfests.  Rock-paper-scissors metagames only work if rock is allowed to exist by the game, and nerfs to “unfun” strategies can lead to even worse things popping up.  Second-order effects are essential to consider in any closed system. 

Oh yeah and most importantly play Type 4 it rocks.

[liskantope]

So, reblogs of my OP branched off in this other direction, and people said things I want to respond to!

@loki-zen thank you for bringing up these points. I especially like and am grateful for your (I think mostly implicit from #2? maybe I'm mostly manufacturing this?) point about how from an external perspective, a person choosing to present themself as a particular gender should be treated with a certain level of respect regardless of whether the reason is that they're convinced they Actually Are that gender or that they're not sure what gender they are and are trying it out. It's not something that a person should have to reveal and specify to everyone they encounter in order to be treated a certain way! This is not only because certain types of privacy should be regarded as rights (on a social level) but because the experiment of living as a certain gender and seeing how you like it may be tarnished as an experiment if you're constantly having to let everyone know of its experimental nature.

I completely support people trying things out socially to see what works for them. If I had a kid who was going through some gender questioning, I (after some talks exploring what this gender thing really is, because if it's confusing for me now it's got to be way more confusing for a child!) would encourage them to try socially transitioning for a while. I do have concerns over what happens when most of our discursive environment seems to lump everything into the "choosing to live as a different gender means you're now convinced that's the gender you Really Are" situation, and how that may confuse people who try out different genders like this, or how afraid someone might be to go back after they've invested so much into socially transitioning.

As for how many people in our own circles transition out of a feeling that they're basically just choosing to be another gender, or choosing to try it out, I can think of one mutual on here who did (very briefly and a little vaguely, at one point) describe their transition in such terms; I was a little taken aback at the time but thought, "Well, cool. You're relatively lucky and obviously had resources at your disposal, and I'm glad it's working out for you." It appears moderately uncommon and not to be the type of case that trans activists prefer to put front and center, for the obvious reason that it comes across as much less of a need and implies less suffering. The fact that for some minority of trans people it's (partly) a choice, as with a minority of gay people, is not going to be amplified by the trans movement any more than its analog was for the gay movement. So outsiders are probably not directly going to hear about this and are going to be really confused when they run across "wants to be" phrasing that implies it.

@binary-bluejay your suggestion didn't occur to me since I haven't spent much time in spaces where people are counseling each other through gender-identity-related decisions, but it sounds very plausible.

pre transition people you will run into people tearing themselves into pieces over whether or not they're "really trans" and frankly it is enraging that this kind of thing is being picked up on by conservatives to try and attack trans people.

Well certainly, it is absolutely disgusting when someone sees something like this and exploits other people's pain and insecurity to tear down their rights and their whole support system. It's a severe case of kicking people when they're down. But are most conservatives doing this? Your typical conservative (or Less Online and With It centrist or moderate liberal) is at least 50-something years old, knows how to use email and an internet browser and buys things on Amazon but has no idea what it actually means to Be Online, was up until like two years ago aware of trans issues only on the level of some very few unfortunate people having a deep psychological need for a sex change, and now it's all still kind of an abstraction that is not only confusing in nature to them but whose rhetoric comes across as incoherent most of the time because of the types of contradiction I've been pointing to above, in the name of which they're asking to drastically change the way they use the gendered aspect of the language they've been speaking for over half a century. They're not going to have any idea of what pre-transition people are going through and why it's being framed to them a certain way in online forums (see above: even I don't that much about it!); they're just going to see a youth culture that abruptly seems very obsessed with gender labels and kind of comes across as a bunch of children playing games. In the absence of a clear and consistent message about what's really going on and what being trans really means and why there's this sudden dramatic spike in seeking gender medical treatments ("without it they'll kill themselves" isn't going to cut it), it seems natural that they're going to take a skeptical stance by default (hopefully a skepticism that errs toward open-mindedness, but we all know that's not how humans generally are).

Now if you're someone like Matt Walsh (who makes entire documentaries on the subject) or Jordan Peterson (who's decided that opposing "gender ideology" from an extremely prominent public podium is a hill he wants to die on), then you have absolutely no excuse not to know about aspects of the situation like the phenomenon you were describing. If this is such a passion topic for you that you're making entire documentaries or blaring it from from your microphone to hordes of adoring fans who see you as a god, you absolutely need to research all angles and aspects of what's going on, particularly the points of view of the people who seem most vulnerable. (I'm still convinced Peterson is far less ill-intentioned than the Walsh types and that his issue is being very prone to a certain kind of emotionality and sweeping ideological commitments.) Maybe that's what you meant by "conservatives": the ones with the power to move and shape our discourse. But that's quite a minority of conservatives or otherwise non-progressives.

As for your last paragraph, if I were to think through its implications I might find myself typing for another hour, and I think all I can say for now is that I don't see how we can have any coherent discussion about laws or policies throughout states or nations without being prescriptivist about the kinds of people/circumstances we're talking about. Defending this belief would propel me into another discussion I don't have time to think through right now.

On ACX a few days ago there was a post on the dynamics of the academic job market (highly relevant to me) and of course at least one of the threads in the comments section turns it into culture war stuff. I want to highlight one of the comments because of its relevance to discussion I've been making here lately, and I quote from it below:

The left has a bunch of beliefs that defy biology. For example: 1. There are 50+ genders. 2. Intelligence is entirely a function of nurture, and nature (such as genetics) plays no role. 3. People who are gay are born that way (i.e. it is genetic). Anyone can choose to be trans at any time (sex is not genetic). None of these beliefs would disqualify a person from being a biology professor. They are all substantially more common, and more anti-biology, than any republican-coded example belief you gave.

Now I find most of this comment (with the possible exception of #2) completely off the mark. I don't think I need to preach to the choir by getting into why the "50+ genders" claim is a distortion of the concept of a gender spectrum based on a 7-years-out-of-date weakman. As for "people who are gay are born this way", hardly anyone on the "woke" left seems to insist on it (especially an assumption that environment plays no role), and it reflects a gay rights talking point that's more like 15 years out of date.

But the most interesting part to me, of course, is the "anyone can choose to be trans at any time" characterization of the pro-trans position.

This is good timing for bringing this up, because I was just talking about why Jordan Peterson's rhetoric seems badly twisted and confused, as he seems to be under the impression that those evil "gender theorists" behind the trans movement are all acolytes directly or indirectly of John Money and thus all believe that one's gender can be changed at will or by fiat through external coersion or something. This is as far as I can tell a complete distortion of the actual "trans ideology", but here we can see it reflected by the ACX comment, which shows that this a common "outsiders' view". (And nobody underneath that comment seems to be trying to correct the commenter's impression either.)

But as usual, I'm going to claim that we can't entirely blame misunderstandings like this on the conservative side of this culture war battle. I made an offhand remark a while back in the midst of another post about how astounded I am at seeing "being trans means you want to be a man/woman/neither" descriptive comments multiple times here on Tumblr; I called this "plainly thinly-layered nonsense" and would stand by that now. As soon as you start to pick it apart, it in fact seems to have transphobic (including from the most orthodox view of the trans movement!) implications: what, a trans woman wants to be a woman but isn't one? or does "be a woman" just mean "be viewed as a woman", because I thought that was different from Actually Being a woman? etc.

I'm willing to acknowledge and respect that there must be reasons I don't fully get about why that type of phrasing works well as a description of how many trans people feel -- indeed, someone used it to describe themself in a reblog of my just-above-linked post and if I squint hard enough I can kind of see why they might want to use the phrase -- but if you're going to go around saying being trans is defined as "wanting to be" a certain gender, this (remarks like #3 in the ACX comment above) is the most natural consequence. (Also anecdotes I hear about teachers telling young children, "When you grow up, you can be whatever gender you want!", which is either what some well-meaning teachers nowadays in geographically progressive regions are actually telling kids, or a distortion/exaggeration by conservatives, in either case based on the aforementioned common confusion about pro-trans beliefs.)

[i-hazbin-drawing]

A Chance in Hell Chapter 3

Pairing: Alastor/Original Female Character

Rating: M

Chapter Specific Warnings: None

Word Count: ~11.3k

Ao3 link: Here

Prologue < Chapter 1 < Chapter 2 <You Are Here> Chapter 4

Don’t Get it Twisted

“It’s a balmy 90° Fahrenheit out today with clear skies as far as the eye can see. The temperature is on a steady climb with an expected high of 105° around 6:00 this evening, low of 50° near midnight tonight. Make sure to utilize those layers!”

The sudden voice echoing into the room caused Gwen to stir in her bed, grumbling as she shoved her face further into the pillows lining the headboard. A heavy fog swirled through her mind as the comforting weight of unconsciousness called back to her. It would be so easy to give in, cradled by an abundance of plushy softness as if she were floating along a cloud rather than snuggled up underneath her covers. She couldn’t remember her bed ever feeling quite this comfortable. Sure, a bed always felt like heaven in the early morning, but this was on a completely different level. Never before had the lull of sleep ever been this persuasive. Was it really already time to get up for work? Surely a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

As she rolled lazily to her side, face still firmly pressed into a pillow to avoid the morning light, she stretched an arm towards her nightstand. The buzzing voice from the radio carried on, barely registering in her mind as she searched for the source of the noise. It was actually quite strange. As far back as she could remember, she couldn’t recall ever having been woken by any sort of news report before. At least, not on her usual station of choice. No, instead she could usually look forward to the tunes of Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington or perhaps Tommy Dorsey to get her swinging each morning. It certainly was a great way to start the day when she knew in the back of her mind that the rest of it was only sure to disappoint her. However, as her hand reached to snooze the radio, the most peculiar thing happened. Her radio had seemingly disappeared.

A small noise of confusion escaped her as her hand met open air. She lowered her hand further, fingertips grazing cold, solid wood where her radio should have been as she patted the bare surface. Had she knocked it over in the middle of the night? She wasn’t normally a fidgeter in her sleep, but anything was possible. Her hand traced along the cool top of the nightstand, sliding towards the wall in search of the outlet. If she could just get to the plug, she should be able to pull the radio back within reach easily enough. Better than actually getting up to grab the thing, anyway. Not when she was as comfortable as she was.

Instead of an outlet beside the bed, however, her hand met nothing but smooth wallpaper in its place. Not a bump or scratch to be found. She groaned and rolled over further in mild irritation, trying to block out the ever droning voice in the background as she doubled her efforts to locate the missing radio plug. As she searched in vain, a thought struck her, causing her hand to freeze along the wall. Wallpaper? Wait… since when did she have wallpaper?

As she peeked out from behind one of the many pillows nestled around her, a quite unwelcome sight greeted her. A smile as bright as sunshine, and just as yellow to match, beamed at her from across the room while a pair of red eyes stared down into her own. Gwen yelped, immediately scrambling on top of the bed to put as much distance between herself and the demon as possible. A loud bang sounded as she slipped off the side of the bed, tumbling through the covers as she ducked behind the edge of the mattress. She was in fact not back in her bedroom at all. She wasn’t even in her old apartment, or the living world for that matter. She was still in hell.

“Jesus Christ!” she shouted from the floor. Her hands gripped tightly at the covers twisting between herself and the top of the bed, heart pounding beneath her ribcage as she fought to catch her breath. All thoughts of sleep had completely vanished from her mind. A sudden, eerie, old-timey laugh track sounded throughout the room, causing Gwen to peek up from her hiding spot.

“My dear, I do believe you’ve gotten things a bit turned around,” said Alastor from the other side of the room, chuckling to himself.

Gwen looked at him in disbelief before her mouth tightened into a thin line. So it hadn’t been a dream after all. She watched as the cheerful demon grabbed a hold of the curtains lazily hanging at either side of the window and opened them further, letting the bright morning light pierce into the room in full. Gwen winced, lifting a hand to block the offending rays.

“What are you doing in my room?” she asked in agitation, still trying to recover from her near heart attack. Alastor grinned over his shoulder before twisting the rest of his body around to face her. She ducked further behind the mattress.

“Why, to rouse you for breakfast of course! I do apologize for entering a lady’s room  unannounced,” he said, side eyeing the door to the hallway standing ajar at the other end of the room, “But after almost a full ten minutes without response, I felt it was my duty to check in for your own wellbeing.”

Gwen pulled herself up to her elbows, resting her head atop the mattress as her legs shifted against the carpet. She let out a huff. Had she really slept through all of his knocking? She had never been a heavy sleeper in all of her life. Though, as strange as it sounded, she was apt to believe him. It wasn’t like he had really done anything to make her mistrust him. Even if he was a bit… eccentric.

“Hey wait,” she said, pulling herself up further, still nervous about using her legs to stand. “Charlie told me I didn’t need to get up early today. We’re not supposed to go over things until later.”

Alastor tutted with a smirk, shaking his head as he twirled his microphone idly in one hand. Gwen watched him anxiously as his smile stretched wider, microphone now tapping against his chin thoughtfully.

“Yes and that’s all well and good but, if I remember correctly, it wasn’t Charlie whom you made a deal with, now was it?” he said and snapped his fingers. Almost instantly, the covers whipped out from around her and underneath her hands, sending her tumbling to the floor once again as the sheets pulled taut against the mattress–clean, pressed and good as new.

“Now, better hurry and get dressed. Breakfast will be held in 20 minutes sharp down in the dining hall. I expect to see you not a minute later!” he said, voice far too chipper for Gwen’s liking as she pushed herself up off of the carpet in a daze.

Before she could object, or begin to question exactly what she was even supposed to wear, Alastor had already slipped out of the room and into the hall. Her face fell as the door slammed shut. He certainly was bossy, wasn’t he? Then again, he actually was her boss in a sense. If the deal they made had any say in the matter, that is.

With a heavy sigh, she flopped her face back onto the now pristinely made bed and groaned in frustration into the mattress. So much for getting some extra sleep, she supposed. Oh well. Better just get to it then, no sense in putting off the inevitable.

Gwen huffed as she forced herself up onto her feet, bracing herself for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow. To her pleasant surprise, however, the aches and pain from the previous night remained mysteriously absent. She stared down at her legs poking out from underneath the borrowed nightgown. No bruises either. She lifted a hand to her face, inspecting her fingertips. The light scabbing had disappeared without a trace. She blinked and wiggled her fingers as a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. How very peculiar. Was this how things always worked down here? Seemed a bit too gracious for hell in her opinion.

She looked back down at her crinkled nightgown and the smile slipped from her face. Alastor had said she would need to change before heading downstairs for breakfast, and as much as she sincerely wished that she could just crawl back into bed and skip the whole ordeal, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing ache inside her middle. It seemed there was at least one wound that hadn’t magically healed overnight. Almost as if on cue, her stomach gave a loud growl to accentuate this fact as she wrapped an arm around her hollow belly.

A grimace crossed her face. She hadn’t eaten since her lunch hour the previous day and it was starting to show. It was a miracle she hadn’t already starved to death by now with the way her luck had been the past few days. Though, the question still remained: Where on earth was she supposed to get more clothes to change into anyway?

As Gwen turned back towards the open window framing the increasingly familiar red sky, her eyes drifted back down to the nightstand beside the bed. A lump of white and pink fabric sat atop the previously bare wooden tabletop. She approached it hesitantly, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Those definitely hadn’t been there a minute ago, right? Or maybe she had just been too distracted by her own rude awakening to focus on anything other than the cheeky demon in her bedroom. Well, her hotel room anyway. This was most certainly not her bedroom. Her bedroom was back on the surface, cluttered with books, papers, notebooks and other various knickknacks. It definitely wasn’t some overly ritzy, gold plated monstrosity such as this.

She picked up the small pile of clothes to discover yet another dress waiting for her along with some rather long and warm looking socks. White and pink stripes coated them both as she held them in her hands. It was pretty obvious just by the style alone where these had come from, if the previous night was anything to go off of.

A surge of guilt spiked through her as her hand clenched at the dress. At this rate, she would just end up using up the poor girl’s entire closet. She really needed to find a way to get some clothes of her own instead of having to rely on the generosity of strangers. Though, the thought of actually investing in some sort of wardrobe down in this awful place was a little bit off putting. She didn’t want to feel as though she were settling down or anything. It wasn’t as if she had given up all hope of returning to the surface quite so soon. No, she just didn’t want to abuse the hospitality of the people–demons?–who had been so kind to accept and help her so readily. Just a few things of her own would be more than enough.

Then again, where was she going to get the money to pay for anything, let alone being able to find where to get the clothes themselves. She wasn’t exactly too keen on venturing back outside any time soon. Were they even going to pay her for working here? Or was her promised safety payment enough in their eyes? Besides that, was she even allowed to leave the hotel? No one had been really clear on the whole stipulations to staying there thing so far.

She sighed and shook her head. It was much too early to be filling her head with thoughts like this. She could spiral later after things had been taken care of for the day, just like she used to do back at home. For now, she would just need to get changed, make her way down to the dining hall, and figure out exactly what she had so carelessly signed herself up for the night prior. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t be anything too difficult. She could only hope that whatever it was, she would be able to stay up to their standards so she wouldn’t end up back on the street all by herself again. If she wanted to have any chance at getting back home, she would need to do whatever it was they wanted her to. Hopefully without any more outbursts on her part as well.

After finally managing to get her unruly curls to cooperate once she had finished changing into the clothes so kindly offered to her, Gwen stepped out into the hall. Several doors lined the wall across from her with golden numbers nailed to their fronts leading all the way down to the window at the far end of the hall. The same tinted sunlight from her own room filtered into the building, illuminating the many portraits hanging in between the doors. Charlie seemed to be featured in most of them, ranging far in age but always dressed in a different yet equally elaborate–and expensive–looking dress. Gwen tilted her head to the side in curiosity, stepping forward as she studied a particularly intricate painting. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she caught the gaze of one of the many disembodied eyes adorning the outer border to the frame. Goosebumps rose across the surface of her skin and she shivered. Why, oh why were those–those things all over the place? It was beyond unsettling. Perhaps she would need to ask Charlie if she could be relocated to another area of the hotel without so much… eye contact.

She seriously contemplated on asking to be moved, and not just for the uncomfortable atmosphere. As grateful as she was for Charlie giving her a room as extravagant as she had, and if a bit anxious as well over the whole ordeal, it had made her feel a bit guilty. Though the thought of asking was perhaps even more nerve-wracking than just accepting and sticking with it. She just wasn’t used to it was all.

As she recovered from her initial fright, another strange figure shifted out of the corner of her eye. She whipped her head to the side, staring down the other end of the narrow hallway towards the long archway leading to the stairs, a hand pressed over her speeding heart. For a moment everything remained still. Not a sound drifted through the hall as she kept her eyes trained on the shadows darkening the edge of the hall. She was certain she had seen something move only a moment ago. That, or this place was finally starting to get to her, and if she was being honest, she was actually surprised it had even taken this long. After another quiet moment, she took an uneasy step forward.

Her breath caught in her throat as the shadows warped at the end of the hall, a slim, wispy, black limb stretching out from the corner of the stairs, peeling itself from the wall as it stared back at her slowly widening eyes. The tips of the inky blob split, bending like smoke until a very clear silhouette of a hand shifted into view. Gwen gawked and took an anxious step back. Run, she should definitely run. 

As Gwen stood rooted to the spot, the hand curled into a fist, a single finger pointing her way before beckoning her closer. She could do nothing but stare, a strangled noise escaping her as the shadow slithered backwards, sliding down against the wall and slipping out of sight. A pressure built in her chest as her lungs screamed for air, sending her into a coughing fit as she snapped back to reality. Her breath ran ragged as she gripped at the fabric against her chest. This place was just trying to kill her, wasn’t it?

Was she… was she supposed to follow it? Is that what it wanted from her? She hesitated, watching the staircase for any sign of the strange shadow hand returning. If she was actually going to show up to breakfast like Alastor had told her to, she would eventually need to venture down that way in spite of the unsettling phenomena. Then again, what part of this hotel didn’t fall under that label?

Try as she might, however, her feet remained firmly cemented to the ground as her insides twisted and wriggled like snakes. Another growl from her angry stomach urged her onward and she took another deep breath. It was just some spooky demon shadow hand from hell. Nothing to be afraid of, obviously. She gave a nervous laugh at the ludicrousness of it all as she tried to calm her racing heart.

It couldn’t touch her could it?

She shuddered as she stood in front of her hotel room door. Then, with as much strength as she could muster, she finally managed to wrench her foot from the floor to take her first tentative step towards the stairs. Northing strange slithered into view as she slowly made her way across the hall. She looked down the many carpeted steps, craning her neck to try and see all the way to the bottom as the stairs twisted down to the left. It was no use. She was just too short to see around the wall separating the two sides to the staircase. Looks like she would be going in blind then.

With bated breath, she inched her way down onto the first step. So far so good. The eyes scattered about the walls and decor flickered down to her as she eased her way around the bend, watching intently. She bit her lip as a cold sweat threatened to break out along her back as she leaned ever so slightly to peek around the wall. As she scanned the last of the stairs and the floor below, nothing strange caught her eye. No sign of the shadow from before or anything like it.

In fact, there wasn’t any sign of anything or anyone at all from where she was standing. Everyone was probably already down in the dining hall waiting for her to show up. Though just who, or what, would be waiting inside that room was a different story. If the things she saw last night were any indication, she was sure to see more than a few new nightmares once she actually reached her destination.

She finished her trek down the stairs as quietly as she could, hair standing on end as the last step creaked in betrayal. Her head snapped up, body freezing as her eyes darted from side to side for any signs of life that might have been alerted to her entrance. A pair of yellow-orange eyes in the distance met her gaze. The giant demon-cat, or Husk as she had learned, was sitting at the other side of the bar as if he had never left from when last she had seen him. A red lettered welcome sign bordered in bright neon light shined above his head, completely contrasting the very apathetic appearance of its host below.

Their eyes locked for only a moment before he raised a brow, brushing her off as he swung his head back, nearly empty bottle pressed to his lips. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had she been so happy to be so blatantly ignored in her life. At least she wouldn’t have to try and make any sort of uncomfortable small talk while trying to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest.

She snuck a second glance at Husk as he turned away, attention directed towards the television mounted on the wall at the end of the room. A very crude version of the news seemed to be playing with the volume turned down too low to hear from where she stood. Husk grumbled to himself before sneering and downing the rest of his bottle. As he crouched beneath the bar, most likely in search of a fresh bottle at the rate he was going so early in the morning, Gwen slowly made her way out into the room.

Everything looked much different in the light of day. Well, that and the relieving lack of prying demon eyes staring down at her from upwards of three or more feet higher than the top of her own head. Gwen let her eyes wander as she cautiously walked further into the open. The dining room doors had to be around here somewhere. It would have been so much more helpful if Alastor had actually given her some sort of direction before bolting from her room. Something told her he hadn’t exactly forgotten on purpose, either. If he really wanted her to be on time one would think he would have been a bit more, well, cooperative.

As she made her way towards the other end of the room, head turning in all directions, she couldn’t help but notice the odd decorum of the lobby. Just as the outside of the hotel seemed to be a crazy collection of opposing puzzle pieces mashed together to form one atrocious visage, the inside of the hotel hadn’t really been that much of an improvement. If anything really, it only seemed to expand on the eccentricities of it all.

Countless eyes swiveled in their sockets along the twisted molding of the walls as what appeared to be deer skulls lined the top of the bar at the room's center stage. Images of elephants littered the room at odd intervals, the largest of which balanced balls atop their trunks like circus animals, sandwiched inside of the main pillars bordering the hallway at the entrance to the hotel. It was like a group of opposing interior designers had collectively barfed the room into existence.

A soft crackling emanated from the other far side of the room as a brightly lit fireplace flickered between a few cushy chairs, a couch nestled quite warmly off in the corner. Draped across the bare wooden floor lay a rug of similar pattern to the carpet coating most of the lobby. Several small tables outlined the outer walls of the rest of the room with simple wooden chairs pushed in around them, a pair to each. It really was quite a spacious room. Though, with the almost glaring lack of life, save for Husk, it was quite unsettling standing alone at its center.

A low creak in the distance caught her attention as she spun to face behind herself. Her eyes landed on a pair of double doors just off to the side of the staircase she had come down only moments ago. One door stood ajar, a soft, yellow glow leaking out from the room beyond. She took one last nervous glance at Husk behind her, grasping for a sense of safety before attempting to venture off on her own in her search for the dining hall. Just as before, her presence remained resolutely ignored. She sighed inwardly to herself before turning back to the pair of doors.

A cold spark jolted her system as another shadow sluggishly oozed out from the crack between the doors, the same hand from before once again beckoning her onward. She swallowed thickly before steeling herself, refusing to back away this time. The hand slipped back out of view as Gwen stepped in front of the doorway, breath stuttering as her hand reached uneasily towards the handle. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, she eased the door open, ready to jump back at a moment's notice.

Yet another long hallway met her eyes as she squinted forward, an arm held up protectively in front of her chest. The sheer size of the hotel was starting to sink in as she eased herself through the doorway. Just how many rooms were there in this place? Her curiosity tickled at the edge of her mind as she looked out to the plethora of new doors lining the walls, leading down towards yet another pair of double doors at the end of the hall.

The long spindly shadow of an arm slithered along the wall near the farthest door from where she stood, splintering down beneath the door. She watched as the strange snake-like appendage dripped like sludge down onto the floor, crawling its way underneath the doorway and out of sight. Her skin crawled as she shook her head. She wasn't going to run away. Nope. Already made it this far, might as well keep moving forward.

At least now she knew where she was supposed to keep heading at any rate. Or at least, she hoped so. Unless this was some elaborate way of leading her to her own grisly demise, in which case, she was unfortunately playing along a little too well. So much for her supposed bodyguard.

After what felt like an eternity, Gwen finally managed to drag herself to the far end of the hall, limbs shivering with every step. With any luck, once she passed through this door, she would finally be where she had been trying to get all morning. That, or at least hopefully not in the room of an angry monster preparing to eat her the second she stepped foot beyond the threshold. Unfortunately, there really was only one way to find out. Bracing herself, she grasped at the bronzed door handle and twisted, edging her way into the room.

A rather grand sight met her eyes as she looked out into the room before her. Perhaps a dozen monsters in all shapes and sizes were seated along a very long and extravagant dining table at the center of the room. A chandelier glittered as it dangled from the ceiling, sparkling in the soft red glow of the morning light shining in from the tall, open windows along the wall. Then, at the very end of it all stood Alastor himself, grinning widely at her from beside the head of the table, his chair pulled out behind him as if he had risen only moments ago.

Charlie sat at the head of the table, absolutely beaming at Gwen’s arrival as sparkles danced in her eyes, Vaggie smiling softly with a shake of her head to the side of her, opposite Alastor. Gwen tried to smile in return but quickly faltered, suddenly noticing the many eyes now leering at her from across the room. The silence was deafening as she stood alone at the entrance. Her legs refused to move forward, insisting on a hasty retreat from the obvious dangers filling the room as a hushed whisper broke out among the demons at the table.

“Gwen!” shouted a voice beside her, shocking her enough to have her jump almost a foot off the ground. Her head jerked to the side, finding that Alastor had suddenly appeared at her side at some point during her panic. 

“So glad to see you’ve made the time to join us,” he said with glee, ushering behind her before forcefully giving her a good shove into the room. She stumbled a bit as she tried to catch her footing. “Come along now, don’t want to start our day off with cold food, do we?”

Gwen squeaked as he herded her forward past the curious stares directed her way all the way to the end of the dining table. The long line of eyes followed her as she stumbled along. Charlie gave her an apologetic smile as Gwen was all but thrown into the seat beside her, Alastor gracefully sitting in the chair to her other side. Vaggie sat across from Gwen–who was currently gripping at the tablecloth to steady herself–as she stared with pursed lips in Alastor’s direction.

Just as Gwen managed to gather herself, raising her head to speak, a plate was rushed onto the table in front of her. She quickly withdrew her hands as another set much smaller than her own darted back out of view. She turned to see Niffty hurriedly collecting a few more things from a couple of trays sitting atop a cloth draped food cart off to the side. In a flash, a glass of orange juice was thrust forward to join the plate of food already laid out for her.

“Oh! Thank you,” squeaked Gwen as Niffty finished off by snapping a rather intricately stitched cloth onto the table, silverware rolling out on top of it in perfect form.

“You’re welcome!” Niffty chirped back before zipping off with the cart down towards the other end of the table. Gwen blinked, at a loss for words. Even she was never that energetic this early in the morning. A yawn clawed its way up her throat and she raised a hand to her mouth. She definitely hadn’t gotten enough sleep for the day during her small nap. Though, you would think with how many times she found herself unconscious within the last 24 hours, that she would be feeling more well rested by now. The anxiety of it all was quite draining it seemed.

“Hello, Gwen,” said a soft voice to her left hand side. Charlie smiled at her as she lifted her head to the sound of her voice. “Sorry about all that. I hope things aren't too rough for you this morning. Are you feeling any better?”

She made a forced sort of smile, edging on a grimace as her eyes darted towards Alastor for a split second. Gwen followed her gaze, her lips parting to form a small ‘o’ as Charlie's intentions reached her. So it really had been all Alastor’s idea to wake her up this early. She gave a sheepish smile in return.

“Oh, um, I’m alright I guess,” she said quietly. “Just a bit tired.”

This was, of course, an understatement, but she wasn’t about to stress the subject any further than that.

“Well, once we get done with all of the introductions and stuff for today, you should be able to take it easy for a bit,” reassured Charlie, patting her hand gently as she did so. Gwen fought the urge to flinch away from her touch. She didn’t want to give off the impression that she was afraid of her or anything, even if it was just a little bit true for now. Charlie seemed like a wonderful person in Gwen’s opinion, but there was still no telling what she might be hiding underneath. They were in hell, after all. Surely she had to have done something to land herself down here.

“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” said Alastor with a chuckle. Gwen looked over to him, fighting the urge to sigh heavily. Because of course he would butt in with that.

“We do still need to get everything for the room in order for tomorrow, supplies and all that,” he said with a smile “Don’t want to dilly-dally, do we?”

Gwen made a face as he took a bite of food from his silver fork. Supplies? Maybe she really was just going to get stuck with some sort of painting job then. That wouldn’t be so bad. Though what he had said about ‘getting them in order’ confused her. Were they just going to be setting things up? Or perhaps they would need to go searching around the hotel for the things they needed before getting started. Either way, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t find out soon enough. Better to just focus one what she needed to for right now–the food on her plate for instance.

“You cannot be thinking what I think you are,” said Vaggie in disbelief.

Gwen half listened as she stared down at her food. She had never seen such a dish before, nor one so expertly prepared in its presentation. Was there a professional chef working at the hotel? With how expensive the entire place looked, regardless of how positively topsy turvy it all appeared, she wouldn't be all that surprised.

She gazed down at small chopped mushrooms, drizzled in a brown sauce that bordered the main dish nestled at the center of her plate. Toasted muffins with smoky, seared ham and ripe, poached tomato slices layered together and topped with a yellow cream of sorts sat before her with a healthy sprinkling of rich green chives. Her mouth watered as the enticing smell drifted up from the plate. Yet another growl groaned impatiently from her stomach. She may not know the name of the dish currently tantalizing her senses, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t eager enough to try a bite of it. Or maybe two–or six.

As she grasped at the fork resting atop the napkin beside her plate, an uncomfortable thought rooted itself in her mind. Was this safe..? She scoffed at herself. As if anything had been safe for her from the minute she had arrived in this awful world. Then again, this specific scenario did feel oddly familiar. The sight of the food shifted from appetizing to intimidating as she contemplated her situation.

She lowered her fork in hesitation as she chewed at the inside of her lip. It was true that there was no telling what ingesting food from the underworld of all places could do to her, with keeping her trapped there for eternity being only one of many unforeseeable outcomes. Her thoughts were thrust back to her days at college as a shudder tore through her. This was definitely a lot more than a couple of pomegranate seeds.

“Is the food not to your liking, my dear?” called a staticy voice to her side. She turned to see Alastor with a napkin raised politely to his lips as he looked over to her, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey now, I wasn’t finished talking to you,” snapped Vaggie, hands splayed atop the table at her sides. Gwen looked between the two, eyes wide as she froze, voice caught in her throat. Charlie patted the fuming girl’s shoulder gently, a nervous smile on her lips as her eyebrows pinched together with worry.

“We’ll talk after breakfast okay? I’m sure it’s fine,” said Charlie as she rubbed her hand soothingly along Vaggie’s arm before clasping their hands together. Vaggie let out a sigh, nostrils still flared as she slumped back in her seat, glaring daggers across the table.

Gwen was a bit lost, having been staring down at her own plate for so long. Would it be rude to ask what they were talking about? She would have to go with yes. Even if it wasn’t, she was much too nervous to risk relighting the fuse Charlie had somehow managed to snuff out. This was, apparently, pointless however as a loud bang filled the room, sending Vaggie into another fit.

“Good mornin’ everybody!” came a familiar voice at the front of the room. Gwen followed Vaggie’s murderous gaze to see Angel standing taller than should ever be allowed at the entrance, both doors open wide as a pair of arms flung out in greeting. She involuntarily shrunk back in her chair as her heart sped up inside her chest.

“Could you try to be any louder??” spat Vaggie as Angel came sauntering over towards them with a smirk, gold tooth shining in the light.

“Sure, but I doubt you could afford it, sweetcheeks,” he snickered, pulling out a chair before plopping down next to her. Even sitting, he still easily dwarfed the small group sitting at the end of the table. It slowly dawned on her that the chairs beside them remained strangely empty as the rest of the guests had taken to the other end of the table.

Before Vaggie could stand, hushed cursing flying out from under her breath, Charlie placed her hand back on her shoulder and eased her down. This seemed to help keep things at least somewhat level as the tension thickened in the air. Grinning even wider, Angel leaned over across the table, head in hand as he rested his elbow against the tablecloth.

“Hey, I think the two a’ you should be a bit more careful. I think ya may have left a stick up her ass last night the way she’s actin’ already,” he laughed to himself as Charlie balked, Vaggie now mere seconds from strangling him.

A blur shot across the table as Angel’s arm was swept out from under him, sending his face crashing down into the table with a loud “FUCK!” He lifted himself up, one hand rubbing at his face tenderly as he shot a scowl across the table. Alastor hummed to himself as he tucked his microphone staff away before meeting the angry spider’s eyes.

“Angel, I don’t know how many times I’ve asked that you remember your manners during meals,” he said coyly, reaching once more for the fork resting on his napkin. “Please keep your elbows off of the table.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” shouted Angel, throwing his lower arms out wide as he continued rubbing at his cheek. “What does it matter where I put my elbows ya crazy–oh! I didn’t even see you over there Curly Q. Didn’t think you’d be showin’ up ta breakfast so soon after last night.”

Gwen averted her gaze as Angel’s mismatched eyes landed on her, deciding to instead focus back on her plate of food. Her hand shook lightly as she gripped at her fork. Why did he have to notice her? Out of all the demons she had seen by now, he was still by far the most unnerving. At the very least, he served as a very real reminder that she wasn’t anywhere near the place she called home. It also didn’t help that he looked like a giant, walking, talking, fluffy pink spider either.

“Uh, hello?” he called, waving a free hand in her direction as she continued adamantly staring at her plate. It wasn’t like her to purposefully ignore another person, much less in such a rude and obvious way, but she just couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She was sure the second she looked up she would freeze again and just embarrass herself. Better to just ignore the problem instead and hope it went away.

Angel let out a huff of annoyance before leaning back in his chair, turning instead to poke at his food as he grumbled to himself. Gwen found herself doing the same as the feeling slowly returned to her hands. The food on her plate beckoned once more. Well… she was stuck here anyway. It wasn’t like she really had any other choice, did she? Not like she could go without eating for long at the very least.

Scrunching her brows together with her jaw clenched tightly, she pressed the fork down into her food. The fork passed smoothly through as if she were slicing through butter as she scooped the smallest bite onto the prongs. She swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. Slowly, she brought the small morsel up to her lips. Well, here goes nothing.

She didn’t gag, she didn’t burst into flames, and she was most certainly–as far as she knew–still very much alive. In fact, so were her taste buds as the first bite of food met her tongue. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste as the flavors mixed together perfectly as a light hum escaped her. Egg, bacon, tomato and a spicy seasoned sauce all coming together as one as they danced in her mouth. Even if she hadn’t just gone without food for almost a full day, she would still insist it had been the best thing she had tasted in years. She dug in for another bite without hesitation.

It didn’t take long for her to devour the rest of her plate, sighing contentedly as the last crumb disappeared. If anything could make her feel better, it was a full stomach. Especially with such good food. If the meals were like this everyday, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being stuck here for a little while. Not that it would tempt her into wanting to stay, of course, but at least she could have something good to look forward to each day. Now if only she knew what time dinner was served.

“Oh wow, you must've been super hungry,” said Charlie, still slowly working away at her plate. Gwen smiled in embarrassment, bowing her head a bit.

“It was, uh… really good,” she admitted before raising her head again, “Um, do you guys have a chef working here, by the way? That was amazing.”

“Yeah, that’s Smiles over there,” answered Angel instead, jerking one of his many thumbs out towards the end of the room. Gwen’s eyes hesitantly flickered towards him before dropping, anxiously turning to check the direction he had been pointing at. Yet again, Alastor had apparently slipped out of sight without her noticing as he walked about the table, collecting empty plates as several of the other guests had already vacated the room.

“Ah,” she said intelligently. It would never have occurred to her that it was him of all people that had actually prepared their food. Maybe that was why he was so insistent on her attending personally then.

“I helped too!” piped up a cheerful voice from behind her. Gwen jumped in her seat at the sudden outburst, only just noticing Niffty pushing out the same cart from before. She certainly was a fast little thing.

“Well, thank you again then,” said Gwen with a small smile, willing herself to calm down. At this rate she was going to die of a heart attack before making it back to the surface. Niffty beamed right back, eye scrunching up in delight.

“It really was delicious,” she insisted, turning back towards the table, “No wonder everyone was here even with it being so early.”

“Well, not everybody,” corrected Charlie. “A few of our guests don’t usually show up for breakfast, but you should be able to see them at dinnertime. Though, with Baxter it’s a bit of a hit or miss.”

Gwen’s eyebrows knit in contemplation. She couldn’t fathom how anyone would turn down a free meal, especially one as good as the one she just got to indulge herself in. Then again, she had seen Husk still sitting out in the lobby behind the bar all by himself on her way to the dining hall. He had probably been up for a while now considering the events of last night. Was there a reason he hadn’t joined them?

“What about the guy out in the lobby?” asked Gwen, glancing at the doorway, “Husk, I mean.”

“Oh, you know, I don’t think I remember the last time he showed up to breakfast,” said Charlie thoughtfully, tapping a finger to her chin. “He is a little grumpy in the mornings though.”

Gwen chewed at her lip again as she digested this new information. Surely he must still be hungry, even with all the alcohol he seemed to be drowning himself in. It couldn’t be good for him. 

A light flickering out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to see a small double decker silver tray a few chairs length down from her. Several muffins still littered its surface as the sun shone over the metallic plates. Her eyebrows raised as an idea struck her. Well, it couldn’t hurt to be nice, right?

“Would it be alright if I took one of those?” she asked quietly, pointing over to the tray of muffins as she looked over at Charlie. Better to ask before Alastor made his way back over towards them as he and Niffty tidied up the tables.

“Hm? Oh, yeah sure!” said Charlie with a smile, “Please help yourself.”

“Thank you,” said Gwen as she grabbed one of the clean napkins from the middle of the table, grasping at one of the muffins with it as carefully as possible to avoid shaking any crumbs onto the tablecloth. Just as she finished wrapping up the small treat, Alastor’s voice rang out from a few chairs away.

“Gwen, why don’t you go wait in the lobby while we finish up in here,” he said with several plates stacked in hand as Niffty zipped along behind him, broom working furiously against the hardwood floor. “Charlie and I need to discuss a few minor details before we get things settled.”

Gwen looked back at Charlie who seemed just as surprised as she did, offering a small smile as their eyes met. Should she just… go then? She glanced back towards the double doors to the hall nervously. Surely she wouldn’t run into anything dangerous off on her own now that the rest of the guests were wandering the hotel, would she?

“It’ll be okay,” said Charlie as Vaggie nodded, “We’ll come and get you in just a couple minutes.”

Gwen looked between the two of them before gulping down the lump in her throat. Alright, she could do this. She just needed to go wait by the bar or something until they came to get her. At least it should be safer by someone she actually sort of knew, anyway. Besides, she should start getting used to walking around the hotel so she wasn’t as prone to getting lost in its endless halls. Maybe she could get Charlie to make her up a map or something too, just in case.

Bidding her goodbyes for now, Gwen stood from her seat and made her way to the end of the room, carefully watching her step as Niffty zoomed around her, cleaning as she went. The trip back to the lobby wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as it had been earlier that morning. At least this time she knew which direction to walk in to find her destination. It was a lot better than wandering blindly. That, or being led along by some creepy shadow hand of course. Please, goodness let that never happen again.

With the wrapped muffin clutched in hand, Gwen opened the door to the lobby and looked about the room. It seemed Husk still hadn’t made any efforts to move from his post. A new, differently colored bottle was clutched in his hand as he looked blearily out towards the television. The news had been replaced by a strange ad featuring red skinned creatures, guns blazing as blood splashed across the screen. Gwen watched with morbid curiosity as she walked over towards the bar, disturbed by the blatantly gratuitous violence flashing across the television before the letters I.M.P popped into view. Immediate Murder Professionals? The idea that you could actually pay someone to have someone else killed so easily sent her skin crawling. Then again, should she really be that surprised?

As Gwen reached the bar, she fiddled with the napkin in her hand, careful not to pick at the contents inside. Husk turned to her as she pulled herself up onto one of the barstools. He raised a long, red feathered brow, looking her up and down before rolling his eyes and setting his bottle down.

“Alright, what do you want?” he asked in his gravelly voice, already reaching over towards the glasses.

“What?” asked Gwen in confusion before realizing he meant to take her order. “Oh! No, I didn't want anything. I, uh, I just noticed you… weren’t at breakfast so, um…”

She trailed off, losing her nerve to speak as his strange honey colored eyes stared at her from across the countertop. He grunted, picking his own bottle back up now that any impending responsibilities were extinguished. Gwen took a slow breath, bringing her hands up onto the counter to set the muffin before him, still half wrapped in the napkin. A few blue specks of blueberry poked out from the breading like dark sapphires.

“The fuck is that?” Husk asked with an almost bored expression.

“Well…” she started again, willing herself to keep talking, “I thought maybe you might be hungry out here by yourself so I-”

“Look kid, I’m gonna stop you right there,” said Husk, nudging his bottle to shove her offering back at her, “I don’t need your fucking charity, okay? Let me guess, you thought ‘oh no, the poor drunk asshole can’t even feed himself’ and grabbed the first thing you could see to make yourself feel better about it, yeah?” His voice had raised an octave while mocking her, sending a sneer her way.

“I can take care of myself, I don’t need you trying to get all buddy buddy with me,” he said as Gwen’s face fell, his words piercing her heart. “I got enough bullshit to deal with on my own, don’t go roping me into whatever mess you dragged yourself into. Just leave me alone.”

Gwen shrunk away, a guilty look on her face as she looked down towards the floor. That hadn’t gone at all how she had hoped. She hadn’t meant to be rude, she had just wanted to try getting on a positive note with one of the other workers at the hotel. Perhaps she had been a bit insensitive in her efforts to help out without realizing it. So much for trying to make nice.

As she sat in shame at the front of the bar, a cheery voice called to her from the other side of the room. Gwen lifted her head to see Charlie and Alastor waiting for her by the foot of the staircase, a small stack of papers in each of their arms. Taking one last nervous glance at Husk, already back to ignoring her as he took another swig from his bottle, she slipped off of the barstool and onto the floor. Charlie beamed as she made her way over to the two of them.

“Okay! So, we got everything ready to officially welcome you to the team!” Charlie said happily, wiggling the papers excitedly. “Room and board are fully covered, so you don’t need to worry about that. Pay is weekly on Thursdays too. Though, considering your special circumstances we’ve decided to give you this funky little debit card. It’s connected to one of my side accounts so we can just funnel the money straight to it instead of going through all the extra hassle.”

Charlie thrust a small plastic card towards her. Gwen blinked in surprise, grabbing it gently from her with both hands. Several wrestling, red spotted puppies with little black horns adorned the front causing Gwen to smile involuntarily. It was oddly adorable. She looked back up to see Charlie hugging the papers giddily to her chest.

“Do you like it? I picked it out myself,” she said with an expectant smile. Gwen couldn’t help but return with a grin of her own, giving her a small nod. Looks like she would be getting paid after all. Seemed like some things even stayed the same after death. Like the constant dependance on money for one.

“Awesome ‘possum! Alright just one more thing,” said Charlie as she handed the papers she had been cradling over to her. Gwen grabbed the papers curiously, looking down to see the words ‘CONTRACT’ in huge bold lettering lining the top of the first page. “Just official business stuff. You’re allowed to leave whenever you’d like, so don’t you worry about that. This just states that you’re here voluntarily, you agree to the pay, and all that other fun work stuff.”

Gwen glanced up from the paper, looking over to Alastor who stood quietly beside Charlie. It was almost a bit unnerving how he had managed to remain silent through her entire spiel. Instead, he stood quite patiently with his arms crossed behind his back, microphone slipped loosely through the crook in his elbow. Gwen thought back to Charlie’s words. Voluntarily. Well, that was at least partially true, she supposed.

As Charlie handed her a pen, a strange fluttering filled her chest. Sure, she had already made a deal with the devil to get this far, what difference was it really in making it official? Could she really even back out now that she had come this far? She nervously glanced up towards the pair of them, noting Alastor’s grin stretching wider as she pressed the tip of the pen to the paper. The moment she finished signing, the contract was snatched out of her grasp by the gloved demon’s hands.

“Well that’s just ducky, glad to have you properly on board!” said Alastor quite loudly, giving her hand a good shake, “Let’s head upstairs, shall we? Charlie, why don’t you finish explaining things on the way?”

He smiled as he tucked the papers casually into his suit, turning on his heel with a little tap of his shoes. He beckoned them to follow and Charlie shot another smile at her as they made their way up the stairs.

“Okay! So, what we’re going to need your help with is fixing up the ballroom on the third floor. There was uh… a bit of an accident with one of our guests–”

“Ah yes, Baxter is quite the quirky little fellow. How many rooms has he blown to bits so far? I think I stopped counting after the fourteenth or so,” interjected Alastor with a grin over his shoulder as they climbed up the second set of stairs. Charlie laughed nervously before looking back to Gwen.

“Yes, well, we have been having a problem with that, but I’m sure he’s starting to get better by now!” said Charlie, hands raised defensively. “Anyway, that’s not the point. You see, Gwen, this hotel is super important to me, and I really think it can help a lot of demons if we can just keep spreading the word and working hard.

“So, even though we haven’t exactly had any success yet, I thought it would be fun to at least celebrate the hotel's half year anniversary coming up. We were supposed to hold a huge party for all of the hotel’s staff and guests, but that kind of went awry after the um…”

“Explosion!” said Alastor helpfully, pumping his mic into the air as they reached the third floor of the hotel. “Yes, it was indeed quite a sight to behold. It was certainly one way to bring the house down!”

“Right, yeah that,” said Charlie, clearly looking uncomfortable as Alastor laughed to himself. “We thought all our hard work was going to fall through, but with you here we might actually be able to pull it off in time!”

Gwen drank in her words as they walked along the twisting hallway, eyes sliding over yet many more portraits hanging about the place. So from what she had gathered, she was going to be expected to help perform renovations in order to get things ready for a party. That didn’t seem so bad. Though, truthfully, the last time she had even touched a set of tools was back in college when her and Marcy were futzing around with the art department’s supplies in the storage closet. That was almost five years ago or so now.

Another thought struck her. Charlie had mentioned that they hadn’t had any success since the hotel’s opening, but in her opinion, it looked to have plenty of patrons. Maybe not a lot to compensate for the sheer size of the hotel itself, but it wasn’t like they didn’t have any guests at all. Was she missing something here?

“Um, Charlie?” she asked hesitantly, “What did you mean exactly by ‘success?’”

Alastor let out a small chuckle as they stepped in front of an enormous set of deep mahogany doors. Long yellow caution tape stretched from each side of the doorway, barring them from entrance. Charlie’s cheery smile slipped from her face for a moment, returning with a sad look in her eyes. Gwen closed her mouth abruptly. There she went again, stepping on people’s toes without thinking.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no it’s okay! Not your fault,” Charlie assured her as Alastor used one of his gloved fingers to slice through the barrier. She took a deep breath before looking skyward.

“I started this hotel with a dream,” she started, eyes filled with a new light, “On the first day of every new year, exorcists are sent down from heaven with the sole purpose of exterminating my people. It pains me to see them treated this way, and as the Princess of Hell I just couldn’t stand to sit by and watch any longer.”

Gwen stood dumbfounded as Charlie began her tale, several puzzle pieces falling into place. The portraits adorning the walls, the ridiculously large building that felt more like a mansion than any hotel she had ever seen, the exquisitely expensive looking decorations riddled throughout the place. Charlie was a princess. Her breath caught in her throat. All this time she had been in the presence of literal royalty and they had done nothing but treat her with the utmost care and compassion. That must mean all of the portraits she had seen, all of them with Charlie at varying ages and dresses, had been her real childhood right here down in hell. Charlie wasn’t a sinner at all. She was a bonafide hell born demon. And also probably the nicest person she had ever met, and that was saying something.

“So I asked myself,” Charlie continued along, pacing before the door as she talked with her hands, “what could I do that would both help solve the overpopulation crisis and save my people from becoming obliterated by heaven’s soldiers? Which is when it struck me–

“Redemption!”

She said this last part, fists in the air with a wide smile on her face, watching Gwen for any sort of reaction. A rather grainy laugh track sounded, causing them both to look over to Alastor beside the doorway to what she assumed was the ballroom. He lifted his hand to his mouth to clear his throat politely.

“My apologies,” he said with a smile. “But the idea still slays me, my dear. Absolute piffle really. Though I must say, it has been exceedingly entertaining helping things along.”

Gwen made a face, not having expected such outright dismissal to Charlie’s idea from the very man who had enlisted her help from an alleyway. Though she herself also had some qualms with the idea. Could anyone really change? She doubted it. If her experiences had taught her anything, it was that the vast majority of people were liars, cheats, and sneaks. Most people only ever cared for themselves, and to find the opposite in someone was like a wonderful breath of fresh air. One could only hope it wouldn’t turn to smoke further down the line, polluting the goodness inside.

“As you can see,” Charlie continued on as the smile hardened on her face, obviously trying to keep herself chipper, “Not many other demons have a lot of faith in our cause, but I still have hope! If we can help even one demon reform and go to heaven, then everyone else will see it’s possible and that they can change! Then everyone can be happy!”

Gwen watched as she clenched her fists in front of her chest in determination. Her head was still spinning from all that she had learned. The fact that a place like this even existed was absolutely shocking. Now the limited number of guests made more sense. Not a lot of people down in hell seemed all that eager to give up their way of life to try and improve themselves, it seemed. It hurt her to think, but her feelings swayed more towards what Alastor had said. Demons trying to be better? When they had already done so much to dig themselves this far in the hole? Surely no one could change after all of that.

She couldn’t help but admire Charlie’s determination on the other hand. Trying to accomplish such a feat must be incredibly draining, both mentally and emotionally. Especially if nothing had happened after almost half a year now. Charlie beamed at her as Gwen gave her a small smile. Alastor stood behind her, shaking his head with an eye roll before moving to open the doors. Well, if Charlie really wanted help trying to get her dream off the ground, then who was she to deny her? Gwen was happy to help. At least, while she was still trapped down here of course.

An enormous room opened up before them as Alastor pulled one of the tall doors open into the hallway, the innards of which fell black under the flickering lights above. Frayed and singed carpet was left scattered in spots, large patches missing entirely as the tiling at the center of the room pooled like melted ice cream. Black and white speckles seeped deep into the floor as it mixed with the leftover fuzz from the carpet bordering the edges of the once polished dancefloor. Gwen gasped as she stepped into the dilapidated room, turning in all directions as the weight of her new responsibility started to press down onto her.

High up along the ceiling dangled broken and fizzled lights from thin and mangled wires, the large chandelier already having crashed to the floor some time ago, crystals splintered and shattered as they sparkled like stars along the ashy floor. Everywhere she looked, more holes seemed to appear in the walls, a singular gigantic one down at the far right of the room practically bursting through to the neighboring wall. The detailed marble pillars that once lined the edges of the wall stood cracked and tilting, threatening to topple over at a moment’s notice. Even the air felt dirty as the smell of long lingering smoke with a strange hint of almonds filled her lungs.

She gave a cough and looked to the back of the room where a large stage jutted out from the wall. The curtains hanging high above were stained heavily with black soot, falling from their rods and bunching at odd angles. It was an absolute disaster. How long had Charlie said they had until the party? Was it even possible to fix a room like this in time? She turned back to see both Alastor and Charlie looking around the room.

“Yes, it is quite the calamity isn’t it?” said Alastor as he trotted into the room, skipping carelessly over the rubble littering the floor as his shoes tapped out a little melody. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to help us clean it up in a jiffy!”

Gwen balked at how casually he danced into the room, Charlie carefully following after as she watched her step. Alastor began humming a tune as he flipped through the papers filling his arms, different from the set Gwen had signed down on the main floor. From where she was standing they looked more like floorplans, the blue of one sheet particularly striking. He pulled a pen from his inner pocket and began jotting down notes as he moved along.

“I know it's, well, a lot,” said Charlie as she stood beside Gwen, rubbing the back of her neck, “But I really think with the extra help we can really pull through in time. We’ll all be working together too, so you don’t have to stress too much.”

“Who’s, uh, who’s all going to be working on it?” asked Gwen as she turned her head around, still in awe at the absolute disaster that was the ballroom. “When exactly is the party supposed to be…?”

“Well, the first of June is about eight days from now, so about a week?” said Charlie weakly, clasping her hands together as she shrugged her shoulders.

Gwen’s jaw dropped, an incredulous look on her face. Before she could comment, a stack of papers were thrust into her arms as the tap dancing demon had finally decided to rejoin them. Gwen looked down in confusion. A swirling list of cursive calligraphy met her eyes.

Drywall; 5 sheets-4’x8’

Joint compound; Five 5 gallon tubs

5 mud pans

Taping knife

Five chisels

10 boxes of vinyl flooring

Adhesive

8 gallons of pure white paint

5 paint rollers

Large pack of paint brushes

1000 sq. ft. of cherry wood floor

10 yards of general purpose wire

This was a supplies list. Alastor had mentioned supplies earlier at breakfast before he and Vaggie had gotten into that minor altercation. Was this what he had been talking about? But why had he handed the list to her? A shock of horror flooded her system as Vaggie’s earlier objection finally sunk in.

“W–wait, you don’t,” she stuttered, watching as Alastor looked at her expectantly, “Are you, am I supposed to?”

“My dear, I must say I don’t know how you expect me to answer you if you can’t finish a single one of those sentences,” he laughed, eyes flickering to Charlie as she leaned over Gwen’s shoulder to read the list.

“Uh, Al? You’re not trying to send her out to buy all of this are you?” asked Charlie hesitantly.

“Why my dear, how else does one acquire things? Unless you’ve suddenly begun to support thievery, in which case, perhaps this hotel might be working a little more backwards than you’d have preferred,” he grinned as Gwen’s hands tightened their grip on the papers, crinkling them at the edges.

“B–but, I can’t go back out there,” cried Gwen, shivering from head to toe at the very thought. “I don’t want to be alone, I thought you said you were going to keep me safe? This doesn't feel very safe to me!”

“Now, now. I never said I was going to send you out on your lonesome. That would be incredibly irresponsible of me,” he said with a shake of his head, brushing off her impending panic attack.

“So, wait, are we going together?” she asked, watching as he began walking back towards the hall.

“Me? Oh goodness, no,” he said with a laugh as Gwen’s stomach turned to lead. “I’m much too busy for that. No, but I do have the perfect person to accompany you in mind.”

Alastor flicked his wrist, microphone twirling back into his outstretched hand before he brought it up to his face. He gave a good few taps before a resounding screech echoed throughout the hallway. Charlie and Gwen both threw their hands to their ears at the sudden intrusive sound. Alastor’s brows shot to his hairline, lips closing in a tight smile before he cleared his throat as he gave it another tap. The noise silenced, a quiet radio static filling the air as he leaned forward.

“Attention all employees!” he said as he threw an arm in the air, walking farther out into the hallway. His voice echoed throughout the room as if a loudspeaker were belting his voice across the entire hotel.

“I repeat,” he continued, “Attention all employees! Would Husker please be so kind as to report to the third floor ballroom at once! Your immediate assistance is required! Thank you!”

With another flick of his wrist, the microphone vanished along with the buzzing filling their ears. Gwen rubbed at the sides of her head, still recovering from the piercing shriek ringing through the room. How had he even done that? The question vanished from her mind as his announcement set in. He had said Husker. He was sending Husk upstairs to chaperone her around the city to buy supplies. Their earlier conversation surfaced in her memories.

“Just leave me alone.”

Well this was going to be just peachy.

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

*Throws all of the 50 Qs into your ask box and twirls away*

50 Q’s For The Mun

1.) describe yourself through the eyes of a stranger? The perpetual foreigner. Or, if they do happen to be from another country, a like-minded friend. (People say I have an accent .  .  . Spoiler, I don’t think I do.) People have said that I look interesting, am quiet, awkward, scary, and that i know a lot. 2.) what is a quality you’d like to change about yourself? I feel like I’m very flighty and have a hard time following through with what I say- if I can at all. I’d like to change that someday. 3.) what is your worst potential fear for the future? I think .  .  . That I’ll be caught between mildly depressing comfort and the chance to actually grasp everything I want in life for a little risk and I’ll make the wrong choice. 4.) which television series do you use as a form of escapism? I use YouTube for that primarily. Um .  .  . Maybe The Addam’s Family. 5.) share a secret about yourself? I think in some ways, I actually live a double-life. So that’s a thing. 6.) if you could choose any place in the world to visit, where would it be? why? Oh, I’d like to go to Germany someday and visit some of the sites associated with Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. He was an interesting person. 7.) what advice would you give your childhood self? Um .  .  . honestly? Be more of a jerk. It more has to do with having a hard time setting boundaries and saying no to things. Or calling people out when they’re acting inappropriately. Not great life advice though? 8.) describe how you envision your ideal life partner? I suppose someone I can connect with on an intellectual and emotional level. Someone understanding and compassionate enough to help me pull through my own problems and a team player when we have joint problems we need to solve in life. 9.) what is your favorite environmental season? why? I like when it snows in winter, but otherwise probably fall xD I do not love being out in the super freezing temperatures with no snow. 10.) what’s one book you’d suggest every person should read? Mathematics for the Million - Lancelot Hogben (That’s the one that talks about how when America reached the trillion dollar debt, that if you lined it all up in twenty dollar bills, it’d basically stretch for sixty miles .  .  . Honesty there’s a lot of books on this list. It’s not just one.) 11.) what is one song that’s able to bring you to tears? 1,000 Light Years Away - Slime Rancher 12.) describe your best friend? Kind, compassionate, smart, doing no harm but taking no shit from people, and just... incredibly driven, even in hard times. 13.) what was the premise of your last dream? Well .  .  . I was at my old job, and for some reason we were running pads (for furniture), but for some reason, instead of pads it was coming out as pants and shirts, long and wide ways. And who do I see but an old coworker / friend? So he was stacking, and it’s supposed to be twenty-one to a bag and they’re coming off three at a time pretty fast. So, since he’s never done that before I was like, out of my way, I’ll handle this. Of course the line starts moving really fast, and with the way it’s coming, you can’t just push it back and throw it in a nice stack. So we’re bagging stuff anyway, just trying to keep it off the floor and he’s like, “Hey, how many is it supposed to be in a bag?” And I told him, “Twenty-one.” “Some of these bags don’t have twenty one in them.” We were doing shit like putting five things in a bag, forty in a bag, whatever! And I just told him like, “I don’t give a shit. We’re sending it anyway.” So quality control is out and we’re both basically like, cool. We’re talking and all, and he mentions that some other coworkers came back and are working in other departments now. One went to maintenance, the other somewhere else, and it kind of swung around to the fact that they were all wearing matching shirts that said, “I’m a thief.” on a nice, tattoo style gothic font on the back and that no one else was getting the joke! I was the only one that brought it up.  .  .  . 14.) what’s your favorite warm beverage? Crappy (very important) black tea with honey and milk. 15.) name one musical album that greatly impacted your life? why? Sandcastle Kingdoms by NateWantsToBattle / It summarizes some of my fears in life and like, pulling through for that one person. Because you don’t see it, but they believe in you, and sometimes that’s enough. 16.) what’s your favorite form of flattery? I enjoy flirting for the sake of it, does that count? Flattery tends to make me uncomfortable, so I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a “favorite.” 17.) what’s your favorite painting? and describe how it makes you feel? It’s a painting I got at the antique store. It’s a moon in a red forest background with silver mixed in. It makes me feel like there’s a sense of adventure and comfort just over there. The forest is in your own backyard. 18.) describe your personal style? Want to be a lot more alt leaning, but currently you’ll catch me in a lot of gray and layers. Kind of a grunge, t-shirt video game nerd, and alt mashup. 19.) what was the last concept that inspired you? @heartxshaped-bruises Casper. 20.) who was your very first artistic inspiration? My very first one? I liked rainbows and architectural drawings. Drew a lot of houses as a kid. 21.) how long have you used tumblr for? how has your style changed over the years? About seven years now. I guess I use the queue a lot more, prioritize life a little more, and tag a lot less on my main blog! xD 22.) what was your first cell phone? Um .  .  . Basically the same model I have now, only it let me use Google Music instead of YouTube music. Android piece of crap. I never wanted a phone. It was thrown at me one day and I couldn’t take it back -_- 23.) what is your favorite fruit flavor? Kind of want to say rambutan right now. 24.) whom would you resurrect from the afterlife? which 3 questions would you ask them? Storyboard artist Harold Michelson .  .  . I’m not sure what three questions I would ask specifically. Probably things like where how he learned to do the stuff, how you learn it, important tools, all that. 25.) if you could choose only one meal to eat for the remainder of your life, which would you choose? Lentils and rice. Because it’s yummy and you can add a lot of stuff with it! 26.) which of the 7 deadly sins do you struggle with the most? and which the least? Wrath and .  .  . I think envy. 27.) your latest obsession? and why? @heartxshaped-bruises Casper. He’s such an interesting character- Tragic, strong, kind with a bit of bite to him. I’m so totally in love! 28.) if you could domesticate any animal as your pet, which would you choose? Sharks. They’re nice. 29.) what’s your least favorite smell? Crack. Had a hard time thinking of it, but it’s crack. Gives me an instant headache that won’t go away for hours. 30.) favorite “mythological” creature? and why? Dragons. Any form of dragons, they’re strong and have good ideals. 31.) name a scene from a movie that makes you cringe? No one specific scene comes to mind, but in general, poor survival skills in movies! It’s like fatal funnels aren’t even a thing! 32.) favorite piece of memorabilia you own? I own the sheep mask from this music video here! :D 33.) your personal favorite oddity about yourself? I can climb like a mountain goat real good! 34.) favorite concert/show you’ve attended? I went to an All Time Low concert in my hometown. Oh my god that thing was a riot! They almost got booed over nice-y small-talk XD 35.) what’s one thing you would tell to the last person who betrayed you? Honestly, I have no idea. There’s more to say, but at the same time, everything that needed to be said was said. 36.) your favorite mantra to live by? I’m not sure I live by it the way I want, but I like, “Don’t tread on me.” 37.) do you have any strange habits? Not sure if it’s really strange, but I always make sure people aren’t following me when I go anywhere. 38.) what’s your favorite white-noise to fall asleep to? Just random YouTube lets-plays. 39.) what is your favorite gemstone? why? This answer is sure to change, but I like tourmaline. 40.) how do you choose to cope when you’re upset? I like being alone in my room. No one to talk to on the phone or on social medias, maybe watch some YouTube or just sit in silence for awhile. 41.) what are you currently trying to accomplish? Trying to center who I am with who I want to be. 42.) what’s your favorite item you’ve purchased secondhand? A Franklin chair! It was half off at an estate sale! 43.) describe your personality is only 3 words? Stubborn, sarcastic, awkward 44.) how is your relationship with your parents? Fine. Maybe a little distant. 45.) an instrument you aspire to learn how to play? The bagpipes! Growing up, there was always this one neighbor that played Amazing Grace at certain times of the year. Sounded pretty good! Never-mind that bagpipes are loud and I live in an apartment.  .  .  . 46.) relate yourself to one movie character? 47.) least favorite music genre? why? Not exactly a singular genre- but pretentious music in general. Pop and Christian music in general come to mind here. I don’t mind the actual music per say, but people act all weird about some of it. 48.) which animal would you be the most terrified to encounter? Probably a bear. 49.) name a public figure you find to be overrated? why? Jim Carrey. God, fuck that man. A: Canadian (not a plus.) B: Everyone goes on and on about how nice he is and it’s just not believable! I don’t care what they say, I think he’s an asshole, and the only things he’s in that’s any good are when he’s playing assholes! 50.) what purpose do you get out of using tumblr? Ideal social media. Instagram is bullshit, more features than Discord, always hated Facebook and Twitter. Tik Tok is just propaganda .  .  . Ugh. Let’s end this here.

[jimlingss]

The Art of Benefits

➜ Words: 9.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, FWB!AU

➜ Summary: There's only one aspect of your life that's missing: sex. But you know yourself. You catch feelings as quickly as you catch colds. But when your friend arranges a meeting with a certain Park Jimin, you'll become inclined to learn the craft of detachment, aka. the art of benefits.

➜ Warning: sex, sexual discussions, toys, sucking dick, period sex, etc.

cr.

[2nd Year Fall Semester]   Life as a sophomore wasn’t shabby.   Assignments, papers and midterms came and went with decent grades that you eventually forgot about. Lectures, club meetings, and studying took most of your time too. But Christmas was arriving and that meant it was sweater weather. It also meant that snow was dusting from the sky and you were watching couples cozying up and keeping each other warm from across the dining center.   It was unfair really. You were cold too. In fact, most of the time you happen to be cold. And while relationships were too much of a time commitment for you to take on, you deserved a cuddle buddy just as much as the next person. Or a fuck buddy. Either works really.   You’ve never been opposed to a friends with benefits relationship.    The only problem is, it would never work for you.   But if you somehow learnt to detach your emotions, it could be the most efficient thing yet. After all, good sex with another warm body was the only aspect in your life that you were missing.   “I mean it’s possible. A lot of people start friends with benefits relationships on campus,” Wendy says as she stuffs her face with her sub sandwich and muses mid-chew, “There’s actually a lot of candidates to choose from.”   You’re exasperated at her nonchalance. As if it’s as easy as going to the supermarket and picking someone up. “Who?!”    You need someone who would be on the same page as you, with the same priorities, a good sex partner who wouldn’t catch feelings either. But frankly, you don’t know that many people.    “Well, what about that guy from your class that you were crushing on? Didn’t you say he was super smart? Might help you on your assignments too.”   “Namjoon?” You shake your head. “He’s got a girlfriend.”   “Okay. What about that older guy in your board games club?”   “No. Seokjin’s graduating next semester.”   Wendy hums, eyes flickering around the dining hall center as she contemplates. “How about Yoongi? From what you’ve told me, he seems pretty cool.”   You loll your head to one side and stab your sweet and sour chicken. “I’m not going to sleep with someone from work. That sounds like a disaster waiting.”   “Jungkook?”   “That’s weird. We went to the same elementary school together.” You can still remember his bowl cut hair as clear as day, and not to mention, the two of you share a group of friends. If things go downhill, it would be a complete mess. The epitome of inefficiency. Which is counterproductive to your goal.   “Taehyung?” At this point, Wendy’s just listing out random people that you know, but you play along just for amusement.   “Nah. Yena has a crush on him.”   She takes another clean bite of her sandwich. “What about that guy that works at that McDonalds that you find cute. What’s his name? Hugo? Howard?”   “Hoseok,” you correct with a feigned glare that makes her smile. “And that’s a big fat no. He doesn’t even know I exist. What am I supposed to do? Waltz up to him and ask to be fuck buddies?”   She grins. “Well, I mean—”   “It wouldn’t work,” you deadpan before she laughs and in turn, makes you giggle too.   The chatter of the room settles in your ears as background noise. You gaze out the window to the sparkling snow piles that reflect the lampposts soft, white light. The sun has long fallen even though it’s only six p.m. The low lights peeking through the somber clouds covering the horizon does little. You dread the thought of having to venture out into the cold and catch the bus home.   You don’t notice how Wendy’s looking at you while she sips on her water. Not until she hums. “You know what? I know someone I could hook you up with.”   Your brow cocks and the corner of your mouth twitches. “Is he a fuckboy?”   Your long time friend shrugs with a glint in her eyes that makes you unsure if she’s serious or not. Wendy once joked that she had a boyfriend from Northern Canada and convinced you hard enough that you legitimately believed her for a good month. So you can never be quite certain when it comes to her. For all you know, she could just be making it up to entertain you.   “Sort of, but he’s a nice one.” Wendy stays vague. “He was my lab partner.”   You stare at her and when her expression remains blank, you scoff. “Sure, sure,” you draw out the syllables with a small laugh and bat the air with your hand just to end the conversation.   And when it’s never discussed again, Wendy moving on to tell you a story about something she suddenly remembers, you’d one day come to realize that was a terrible, terrible mistake.   //   That one day is now.   3:50pm. Wendy: hey i set up a meeting what that guy 3:50pm. Wendy: third floor library  3:50pm. Wendy: he’s in a red hat btw   The text comes right when you’re leaving your last lecture of the day.   3:51pm. Y/N: what guy   3:53pm. Wendy: your future fwb   3:53pm. Y/N: ?????????????????????????????????/ 3:53pm. Y/N: ???????????????? 3:54pm. Y/N: wtf i wasn’t SERIOUS   3:54pm. Wendy: wat   3:54pm. Y/N: I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING   3:56pm. Wendy: lmao too late 3:56pm. Wendy: at least meet him he’s waiting sis   3:54pm. Y/N: can’t you cancel?????????   3:57pm. Wendy: n a h   You nearly burst an artery in your temple at the emojis and memes she spams to you.   3:59pm. Wendy: I already told him the gist btw 4:00pm. Wendy: don’t chicken out   With no other choice, you make a u-turn and head towards the library with too many thoughts swirling inside your brain. Chances are this stranger is going to see you, think you’re ugly as shit and try to back out of it. It’s going to be awkward as all hell and you’re not sure you’re ready to have this traumatizing memory for the rest of your life.   Then again, you wonder how Wendy even convinced this dude to meet up. If he’s really that easy going. If this is a typical thing people do now. Or maybe Wendy showed a picture of you on your insta and he agreed afterwards — it wouldn’t be the first time she did that, much to your embarrassment. But you hope it’s the latter case. At least that eliminates the possibility of him trying to backpedal his way out of it after seeing your face.   You also wonder how the hell you’re going to find him. The library is full of students, the rowdy ones and the studious ones being disturbed by them. You wonder what he looks like, what he’ll be like. Third floor. Male. Red hat.   You arrive at the appropriate floor and begin scanning the premise, walking around as your eyes sweep the area. Almost immediately you catch a brunette hunched over and on his phone by the table. He’s wearing a red cap on backwards, purple tee shirt. He has a frat boy aesthetic.   Not really the type you go for.   Looking over him, you round the computers, bookshelves and tables. But finding no one else with a red hat on the third floor, you sharply inhale and approach the boy with his fluffy cheek rested in his hand, arm propped up on the table lazily. Scrolling through his phone.   “Excuse me.”    Your voice is light and hesitant as if you were asking help from someone at the front desk and not seeing if this was a potential fuck buddy. It’s mortifying to say the least.   His head lifts, brown eyes catching the lights.   You clear your throat. “Wendy…”   “Oh. You’re her, right?” He smiles and thankfully, doesn’t seem to be disappointed. “Wendy’s friend?”   “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”   “Jimin.”   Now that you get a closer look, he’s kind of cute. But you don’t dwell. Or look him in the eye.   It feels like a job interview. But worse. “You were Wendy’s lab partner?”   “That’s me.” He pockets his phone. “I’m a kines major. You?”   “I’m in the arts faculty. Political science.”   “Cool, cool.” Jimin nods and then gets to business without any shame, “So Wendy already told me about it. You’re looking to have a friends with benefits relationship?”   “Yeah….about that….”   “I’m down if you are.” His hand opens up, gesturing to you. You’re not sure how you feel about how laid-back he is, but he remains upfront which you suppose is the right thing to do. “I have a dorm room in the Sierra building by the engineering faculty building if you know where that is.”   “I’ve walked past it before.”   “Cool. Anyway, my last f.w.b. ended two months ago and I kind of miss it,” he quickly clarifies, “The sex, I mean.”   You’re speechless and contemplating if you really want to do this. You know if it works out, it’ll be fairly efficient. You’ve always gotten off by yourself and while it works, it’s not something you’d call completely satisfying. Having someone’s help— good help — is a change you’ve been considering. But a friends with benefits situation has always been one of those ‘what if’ scenarios. You've just never had an opportunity like this to make it actually happen.   Jimin senses your hesitance and leans forward. He lowers his volume. “Are you a virgin? Cause I’m cool with—”   You scoff. “No. I’m not. I just...haven’t done something like this before.”   “Friends with benefits?” His question is answered by your body language. “It’s not bad. Safer than one night stands and more consistent too. You don’t have to go out and find someone every time you want to have sex. And it’s a low level commitment.”   The corner of your mouth pulls and you agree. “It’s efficient. But...I need time to think about it.”   “Sure. Tell me when you make up your mind. I’ll give you my number.” He opens his hand again and you pass him your phone. He quickly types it in. “Take your time.”   //   And you do.   You weigh the pros and cons against each other, considering every possibility and all the consequences. Part of you wants to just go for it. The same part that once decided in high school at midnight that bangs would be a hot look on you. (It wasn’t). The part of you that dyed your hair blue that one summer on a whim. The part that doesn’t want to think and wants to jump head first into things. Jimin made a lot of good pointers too and you’re certain this would be a good outlet. An experience. It helps that he’s quite attractive too and seems to be trustworthy and rational.   Yet, part of you wonders if it would be a bad decision.   There’s a chance that you might catch feelings. For you, it wouldn’t be unheard of either. You have a tendency to catch feelings as fast as you catch colds. And you already know that’s the demise of these kinds of relationships. Once a party gets involved too deep, it’s game over. There’s nothing but heartbreak.   The only way it would work is if you minimize your interactions with him.   The less attached you are, the less likely you are to develop feelings for him since the only way you would like anyone is if you knew them. So the less you know, the better the outcome.    It’s an equation.    It’s the art of the benefits.   And if that works, if you master the art, it would solve every potential issue.   The dorms for sophomores are bigger than the ones for first year freshmen. Instead of a single room with two beds on either side by the walls, there are private bedrooms with just a shared bathroom, a main living space and kitchen.    “Bathrooms are over here,” Jimin gestures. There’s one room at the end of the hall and another one beside his. “Both my roommates are out, so you don’t have to worry. They’re pretty nice.”   You feel awkward lingering at the entryway with your backpack on.   You clear your throat. “Can I get a drink?”   “Oh yeah. There’s new water bottles by the sink, I think, and there’s orange juice in the fridge if you’d like.”   “No, I mean, do you have anything alcoholic?” you correct and he blinks at you owlishly before smiling. You drop your bag and find it in the fridge, a whole vodka bottle. You fill a shot up with a glass on the drying rack. The clear liquid burns as it travels to the back of your throat. The bitter taste nearly makes you gag, but you feel your face warm and you ease even more, knowing it works.   In the meanwhile, Jimin studies you, standing from across the kitchen island. His hands are casually dug into the pockets of his gray sweats. “We won’t have to follow through with this, you know. I’m fine either way.”   “No,” you quickly refute, irrationally afraid he’s changed his mind. And the words spill out of you as you cringe, “I’m horny as shit, I’mjustnervous.”   The guy smiles, eyes slightly crinkled when he does so. “Of what?”   “A lot of things.” You don’t pour a second shot even though you kind of want to. But you have things to do tomorrow, so you can’t nurse a hangover and you most certainly don’t want to be drunk while doing this. “If you didn’t notice, I don’t do this often.”   While you’re at it, you tell him, “I don’t know how to suck dick.”   He leans against the counter, grinning. “Okay. I don’t mind.”   “Also, if you haven’t noticed either, my ass is kind of deflated.”   Jimin shrugs. “I’m more of a boob man anyway.”    You narrow your eyes, not sure if he’s lying or trying to make you feel better.   But there’s no time to dwell when he seriously asks— “Do you still want to do this?”   It takes a second for you to muster your courage. And once you do, you know you won’t back down. “All right. Let’s do this!” You walk into his room like you’re about to go fight off a monster.   Behind you, Jimin grins and it takes a good moment for him to calm you down.   “Are you okay with kissing?” he asks, door shut and distance closed. He’s intimately close and you nod.   Finally, your brain stops overthinking and you let yourself feel. Jimin’s lips are full and plush, and they’re good against yours. The soft smacking fills his room. The two of you kiss until your lips part and he begins to lick into your mouth, tongue entering without much hesitation.   You fall back onto the mattress, noticing that the bed’s been made sloppily, but better than your own. The pair of you keep kissing and he hovers over you, capturing you against the sheets. Pathetically enough, you already begin to feel your center throbbing and it’s a relief when you both get rid of your clothes.   He doesn’t talk much — doesn’t give much commentary or even dirty talk. But you don’t mind. All you’re offering after all is soft sighs and quiet moans.   Jimin squeezes your breasts and fingers you for a good minute. He’s surprised to see how wet you are, even letting out an ‘oh shit’, but you make no efforts to come up with an excuse. The stretch feels good from his thick fingers, but you bet it’ll feel good around his girthy cock too.   He goes to grab a condom from his drawer, but pauses.   “Do...you want me to eat you out?”   “I’m good,” you politely decline, afraid it might be too intimate. You’re not sure where the lines are drawn, but it’s something you’ll have to gauge while you go. “Do you want me to suck your dick? You might have to teach me though.”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “I’m good too.”   As Jimin rips open the condom package, you turn yourself around and get onto all fours. He doesn’t protest and when he enters you, it feels good enough for you to fall forward into the pillows. His cock is of average size, but he’s girthy and your cunt stretches to accommodate him.   He groans in his throat when you clench — and the sound gets you off, making you squeeze again. Jimin pounds into you, his pelvis hitting the meat of your ass, cock drawing in and out against your tight, warm walls. You do your best to meet his thrusts halfway, jerking your hips back and you stifle your moans with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sloppy sounds of slapping and the creaking of his bed makes you glad his roommates are gone. And while the sex is not mind-blowing per se, it’s still good. Enough that you climax once he rubs your clit several times and he unloads into the condom too.   It’s easier than you thought it would be. Not a big deal whatsoever. It took ten minutes in total and it felt good.   It’s just sex — and that’s exactly it. Just sex. The very lesson of the art of benefits.   You pick up your clothes off the floor, slipping them back on. “I gotta get going.”   There’s no snuggling, no cuddling, no pillow talks. And it doesn’t seem like he minds whatsoever.   “‘Kay.” Jimin picks up his phone off his bedside table to check his texts and waves goodbye without even looking at you.   You leave, walking yourself out and humming as you stride down the hall.    You’re glad you went through with it.

[2nd Year Winter Semester]   You run there with your sandwich stuffed in your cheek.   By the time Jimin opens the door, you’re still chewing while panting. It’s a comical sight by the way he smiles at you. You’re already winded before anything’s started. “I hadn’t eaten yet and I needed to get my blood sugar up.”   Jimin’s lips are quirked. “We can always eat beforehand, you know. There’s food in the fridge.”   “Nah, I’m good.” Having meals with your friends with benefits is the last thing on your mind.   He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”   You use his bathroom, releasing your bladder and rinsing your mouth thoroughly. You know yourself and you’re not a novice on how these relationships work. The less interaction and knowledge you have about him, the more you can keep your distance.   “G-God,” he exhales shakingly, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re getting b-better at this….”   Jimin watches through heavy lids as you’re slobbering over his cock. He tries his best to watch, but when you run your tongue over the weeping slit at the bulborous head, his eyes shut and his head naturally knocks back. You’ve gotten better at a lot of things in the few months that have passed, namely sucking dick, but your jaw aches and you wonder when he’s going to cum.   It’s worth it though. You might be the one kneeling in front of him, but you feel powerful. It’s too easy to make him crumble. To make him moan like that. It makes you wet to hear him and knowing you could bite off his dick or make him lose a load, the sheer power eggs you on.   Like you were taught, you inhale, ease your muscles and take Jimin as far as you can.   He chokes as his cock hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflexes threaten your endeavour but you keep them at bay and Jimin’s hand in your hair tightens. Especially when you swallow.   “Fuck. I-I’m going to cum.”   Thank god. Finally!   Usually, you let off so he can cum elsewhere (god forbid in your hair) or if he accidentally does it in your mouth, you spit it out on tissue. But this time, you made a commitment to yourself. You came here with a goal. So you inhale again and deep throat him, sucking as much as you can.   With his curly pubic hair grazing your nose, Jimin cums. His groans staccato. His cock twitches.   And you swallow the bitter, white fluid that comes out in ribbons.   After a few seconds, you finally withdraw. Jimin opens his eyes, staring at you in wonderment. There are strands of saliva from between his softened cock to your lips and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.   “Not gonna lie.” You clear your throat and swallow down the remaining taste. “That’s really nasty.”   Jimin bursts out laughing.   “Thanks.”    “It’s the least I can do.” You stand up, shaking your left leg awake. It feels like pins and needles when you step around. “I’ve sat on your face like twice already.”   You toss Jimin his pants off the ground and you get your cardigan back on.   “You wanna come over on Friday?”   “Uh…” You grab your phone from your jacket that’s also been discarded and check your calendar. “Sorry. Can’t. I’m busy on that day.”   His brows raise, but he doesn’t question it.   “How about Saturday?” you offer.   “No. I have a kines exam scheduled.”   Your face twists in disgust. “On a Saturday?”   “Yep. I know. It sucks.”   You sympathize, but you’re also surprised. “I didn’t know you were a kines major.”   “What? I thought I told you.”   “Guess I forgot.” You put yourself back together and a thought strikes you. Your eyes light up and you turn to your friend with glittering eyes. “Does that mean you can crack bones? I’ve always wanted to go to a chiropractor since my lower back always hurts. You should crack it for me.”   Jimin grins. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do that. They don’t really teach you that kind of stuff.”   “Oh.” Your eyes dim and you don’t try to hide your disappointment. You almost thought you could get a little more out of him, but you suppose decent sex is enough.    As you grab your bag, you notice that his phone lights up. “You got a text from Victoria.”   “Thanks.” He reaches over, but the curious expression on your face must be visible, since he says, “Don’t worry. She’s not my girlfriend or anything. She’s just someone I’m kind of into.”   “Nice!”   The corner of Jimin’s mouth quirks at your genuinely excited response even though he never looks away from the screen. You’re psyched though. If he has an interest in someone else, there’s less chance for anyone to catch feelings. Fewer connections. More distance.   “If you ever want to end this, just let me know.” You throw your backpack on that’s heavy with your laptop and textbooks inside.   “Yeah.”   “I’m going now.”   “Bye.” Jimin’s fingers fly across the screen to text the other girl back and neither of you spare each other a glance. The door shuts moments later and the noise echoes through the walls.

[3rd Year Fall Semester]   In spite of being a junior now, things have relatively remained the same.   According to course outlines, lectures are more in-depth in their content, but there’s still assignments, papers, and midterms. The grading schemes haven’t changed and you know there’s a shit ton of work waiting for you in the coming months. But you find pleasure wherever you can.   The door opens, but it’s not Jimin on the other side.   “Hey, Y/N.” Taemin, his roommate, is eating chips. “He’s in his room.”   “Thanks.”   You shuffle inside and after briefly greeting Jongin, the other roommate, who’s busy playing Animal Crossing on the living room couch, you beeline to his room. You find Jimin hunched over his messy desk, rounded spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he’s tapping furiously across his laptop keyboard.   He glances at you. “Sorry. I need a second.”   “Take your time.”    You set down your bag and shed your coat, tossing it aside. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but you don’t ask. Instead, you pull out your phone and run through your usual apps. With no messages to answer or anything to scroll through, you check your email and find the words ‘emergency’ in one of the subject lines.   After a minute, Jimin saves his document and closes the lid of his laptop. He stretches above his head with a groan and turns around, only to find you now hunched over your own device.   “Sorry,” you mutter once you feel his gaze on you. “My manager needs me to fill out my timesheet and send it to her.”   “I didn’t know you worked.”   “Just part-time at the admissions office here on campus.” You go quiet as you skim over your email again to ensure it makes sense. “It’s a pretty easy gig.”   He hums and you finish, shutting your laptop and sticking it back into your bag. That’s when you finally get a good look at the boy across the room — dark hair, blue shirt and gray sweats — and you notice how tan he’s gotten. It’s a good look.    Your mouth tugs. “Did you travel over the summer?”   “I went to the Caribbean with my family for like two weeks.”   “Fancy.”   “It was alright.” He gets up and re-stacks the textbooks on his desk into a single pile. Jimin notices the stack of flyers he was supposed to distribute. “Oh yeah. Do you want to join the crayon club?”   Your brow lifts. “The crayon club?”   “Yeah, you can come colour every Wednesday night and just hang out with people.” Jimin grins boyishly. “My friend wanted to make a club and he made me the communications executive. I’m supposed to get people to join. You don’t have to, but the first meet and greet is this Friday, and the more people the better. There’s gonna be free food by the way, if that helps.”   You’re not sure that's a good idea.   The two of you have never really met up outside of his dormitory, aside from the first time you met at the library.   “Let me check my calendar.” You grab your phone again and thoughtlessly mumble, “Sometimes I’m busy on Friday. I’m part of the board games club and we meet up every other week…..don’t judge.”   “I’m not.”    Still, Jimin's smile widens and you feign a pout.    You’re free this week.   “I’ll come if you make me an executive too,” you quip carelessly while tossing your phone aside. “It’ll look good on my law application.”   Jimin quirks his head. He didn’t know you were aiming for law school. “Okay.”   “Wait.” You’re taken off guard, eyes as wide as saucers. “Seriously?!”   He with a small laugh. Jimin gets up and closes the distance, making you lean against the headboard until he’s completely hovering over you, mere inches away. “We actually need a position filled anyway, so you just saved me some trouble.”   “You better keep your promise, Park.”   You end up showing with Wendy and Tiffany in tow — the former who wants to raid whatever food there is and the latter genuinely interested in colouring as a means of relaxation. It’s a bit awkward to meet so many new people at once and Jimin’s friends at that, but you can tell they’re nice at heart. Albeit, a bit rambunctious and too friendly. And you’re a bit horrified when one of them tries to eat a crayon to further advertise the club.   “So, what’s up with you and Jimin?” Tiffany asks, peering up at you as she colours in the lines carefully. She’s unaware of your arrangement with the boy. It’s not something you’ve told many.   You feign ignorance, not wanting to get into the details with strangers around. “What do you mean?”   “Are you dating him?”   You scoff. “I wish.”   Immediately, Wendy’s brows raise to her hairline and the words that fumbled out of you thoughtlessly finally sink in. “I mean, no, we’re not. Not I wish.”   Luckily, Tiffany spares you and doesn’t pry. But you’re mortified and you glance at Jimin from across the room laughing noisily with his friend. You turn away from him, trying to create more distance.

[3rd Year Winter Semester]   With exam season here, you and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in a while.   Luckily, Spring break was approaching, so you at least had something to look forward to. The idea of being able to lay in bed and sleep in automatically puts you in a good mood. Jimin, however, seems less than stoked.   You watch from the bed as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up before you’ve gotten a chance to. He was frowning when he opened the door, greeted you with one word and in general, has been quieter than usual.   “Is….everything alright?” You wonder if you did something to piss him off, but then he says—   “I flunked my final.”   Oh. That explains his bad mood.   “The one you took this morning?” you ask.   “Yeah.” Jimin deflates with an extended sigh. “I didn’t get the first twenty questions and then I fucking ran out of time….”   There’s a pause that lingers.   “Well, you’re not sure if you actually failed, right?” You lean closer to him, quirking your head to the side. “The marks haven’t been released and who knows, the prof might curve it.”   “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jimin scrubs a hand over his face, uncertain and stressed. “This ruins everything. I’m trying to get an internship at a clinical rehabilitation facility and I want to apply for a masters and now...fuck.” You’re surprised. You didn’t know he had so many goals. “I’m screwed.”   Jimin flops back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. You loom over him, blocking his view.   “Does the internship look at your GPA?”   “They want a three point o average or more.”   “What do you have now?”   “Three point five.”   The corner of your mouth pulls and a rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “Then you’ll make it! Even if you failed one exam, it wouldn’t tank past a three. It can’t be too bad, right?”   “Yeah, I guess.” Jimin sighs and absentmindedly tugs on your strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and is grazing against his cheek. “I just don’t know anymore.”   “It’s going to be fine,” you reassure, slapping your hand on his shoulder. “You’re just overthinking it.”   “Maybe,” he hums.   A sudden thought comes across your mind and your small smile turns devious. “Let me make you feel better.”   You shift to straddle his hips and instantly, his hands lift to your waist. Jimin starts to grin as you pull at his shirt, trying to get him to strip. And you do your best to pleasure him.   It doesn’t take much effort considering Jimin’s hand is already tightening in your hair the minute you run your tongue along his shaft. But he doesn’t let you suck him for too long, eager to feel you inside instead and pleasure you just the same.   It’s eager and messy sex. You’re on top until your thighs begin to burn and you lose your pace. Then he re-repositions the both of you, so you’re flat on your back and he’s doing most of the work. You end up cumming twice. Once around his covered cock and the other time after he coaxes you around his stiff tongue and eggs you on, even when you’re sobbing from the overstimulation.   It feels good. Better than good.   Over time, the pair of you have gotten to know each other’s bodies better, what works and what doesn’t.    Your relationship with Jimin is an investment that feels worth it.   “Hey…” You’re both facing away from each other as you put your clothes back on. Jimin turns his head and you cast him a glance. “I was thinking of maybe starting birth control…”   He blinks.   “If you go get yourself checked out and make sure you’re clean, we can do it without condoms.”   You pull down your sweater over your head and you both stare at each other. He looks surprised and responds in a delayed manner, “Okay. Cool. I’m down. I’ll get myself checked out this weekend. I haven’t really slept with anyone else since this started though.”   It’s your turn to be caught off guard. “Really? What...about that girl you were into? Vicky?”   “You mean Victoria?” He jumps as he puts on his sweatpants, getting both legs through at once. “Nah. It didn’t end up working out.”   “Oh.” He’s entirely nonchalant about it, so you merely nod.   Jimin walks you to the door and you notice that he’s in a better mood than earlier. You hide your smile to yourself, glad that it was mutually beneficial.   Two weeks later, he gets an email before the two of you get down and dirty, and you’re the first one in his life to know that he got the summer internship. His excitement is infectious and you genuinely feel happy for him.

[4th Year Fall Semester]   It’s so close, you can taste it.   A whole new semester and cart of overpriced textbooks later meant you were a senior now. It also meant that there was just this year left and you were out of here. Finished at least one degree. A step closer to making the big bucks and being a whole ass adult.   The idea is both exhilarating and frightening.   2:20pm. Jimin: Wanna come over?   The text mocks you, but the temptation is tangible. Like a carrot tied at the end of a stick that’s attached to a hungry rabbit. You’ve been sexually frustrated since last night, feeling it in your loins since morning, and fidgeting and rubbing your thighs underneath tables and desks. The thought of getting that sweet relief properly is enough for you to want to ditch class altogether, but you can’t. Not for the next few days.   2:22pm. Y/N: can’t. 2:22pm. Y/N: I’m on my period :((   2:23pm. Jimin: I don’t mind   2:23pm. Y/N: really???? 2:24pm. Y/N: are you sure   2:25pm. Jimin: lmao 2:25pm. Jimin: yes   You brace through the rest of the lecture, paying more attention as the anticipation swells. And when it’s all over, you race across campus to the dormitory building you’ve become familiar with.   Jimin opens the door before you need to knock and he plants a chaste kiss against your lips in greeting. You’re taken off guard, but don’t pay too much attention to it. “How was class?”   “Good. You?”   “Same,” he hums.   You drop your bag in his room and gesture below your waist. “I’m going to need to wash up. The nether regions are a bit…”   He smiles. “Sure. I got spare towels I can set down too.”   You self-consciously linger for a moment as he goes to his closet to the upper shelf. The towels are luckily green and not white. “I’m surprised you’re okay with it. Having period sex, I mean.”   “Why wouldn’t I be?” Jimin pushes his blanket aside and puts a towel down. “As long as you’re fine with it, then I am too.”   “I don’t know. Doesn’t blood gross you out?”   “Not really? Most of the time I’m the one making the mess, so it’s actually nice to have someone else make the mess for once. Plus sex is sex. What’s there to complain about?” His brow lifts and he looks at you. You scoff and it makes Jimin grin.   You wash yourself up and he fucks you in missionary position on top of the towels. The pair of you have only done so a few times before. Typically, you’re face down, bent over, on all fours or looking away from each other. But the change is welcome. Jimin hovers over you and you can kiss him when you want to.   “F-Fuck.” A pitched moan unintentionally spills from you when he hits a spot at your walls that has your toes curling. “Ji...min.”   It’s more lubricated than usual, making the strokes easier. He goes softer too. Deeper. Jimin presses your thighs to your chest and makes you feel him all the way to your throat.   The boy smiles tenderly at your reaction in spite of panting himself. “Feel good, baby?”   “Y-Yeah.” You nod, eyes shut tight. You grip his forearms when he bottoms out again. “Always does.”   Your warm walls pulse around his thick cock and you end up cumming soon after. He groans into your neck at how you tighten around him like a vice grip and he thrusts into you one more time before his cum fills you.   The pair of you jump in the shower together to get cleaned up and then you’re picking up your clothes while he tosses the towels in the laundry.   “What were you working on, on Thursday?”   You blink, realizing that you texted him vaguely about being swamped and unable to come over, and that’s enough for you to unload and go on a tangent. “God, don’t remind me. It was my fucking thesis. I barely managed to finish it but I don’t even know if it makes sense and now I have to edit like fifty pages by myself before giving it to my supervisor, so that’s fun.”   It feels good to let it off your chest.   Jimin smiles subtly at your venting. “I could always edit it for you.”   “What? Seriously?”   “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’m not in poly sci, but that might make me a bit more unbiased. I’m not doing much these days either.”   “Oh my god.” There’s an overpowering urge to bow at his feet or suck his dick until you’re gagging or do both. “You’re a life-saver!”   Jimin laughs and it’s the sound of angels singing. “Just send it over. I can get it done by tomorrow. You have my email, right?”   “Of course I do. Duh!” Your grin is big enough that your cheeks hurt and he has one that matches it as well.   //   A few weeks fly by and things calm down enough that you can finally breathe. But that’s when you receive a little text from a certain someone that has you skeptical if you can rest easy.   6:48pm. Jimin: I have a surprise for you 6:48pm. Jimin: I forgot about it   You’re not sure what it is, but asking would be like pulling teeth with him. Jimin hates spoilers and he likes surprises all too much.   Lately, you’ve both been getting into some freaky shit. Buying toys, blindfolds, handcuffs. As adventurous as college kids with a limited budget can get. It was rather fun for the pair of you, and expectedly, some experiments work out better than others. It sends goosebumps all over your skin every time he talks dirty. You like it when Jimin spanks you too. Although, you’re still unsure about the whole candle wax on your body idea.   But there’s one thing for sure — Jimin can most definitely not role play for his life.    The whole school girl fantasy lasted a good five minutes before he started bursting into giggles and breaking character every other second. Playing doctor only made you realize how ticklish he was too. And the tickle fight that followed was definitely not something one would call ‘sexy’. Even if it did lead to the deed being done.   “Hey.” Jimin greets you with a grin and a chaste peck against your lips. “How was studying?”   “Fine.” You brush off the question quickly, too curious of what he has in store. “Jimin, I’m not going to use that twelve inch dildo unless you want to drive me to the ER.”   He bursts out laughing. “That’s not it. Good try though.”   Instead of going to his room like you usually do, Jimin leads you past the kitchen area to the table. It’s been cleared off and you give an inquisitive expression. He grins and then gestures to it.    “Lay down.”   “What?”   “Just lay down.” He takes your hand, guiding you on it and you obey wordlessly. It doesn’t seem like any of his roommates are home and you hope they don’t come back any time soon lest they find you lying face down on their dinner table.   You feel Jimin round the table and pull your ankles together. You tilt yourself up to peek at him, but then he barks— “Down.”   With a pout, you return to your position, arms folded underneath your head. You hope he isn’t about to rub spices on you and roast you in his oven like it feels like he’s doing.   You feel the gentle pressure of Jimin’s hands against your spine, his thumbs pressing into your skin and he hums, “Relax. Okay. Breathe in for me.”   An inhale is taken and his hands suddenly press into the middle of your back. You hear your bones crack loudly. It catches you off guard and you turn yourself with wide eyes. “You know how to do it?!”   He boyishly grins. “I might’ve learnt a thing or two during my internship.”   “Keep going, keep going.” You flip yourself over again, gesturing to your back and he laughs, going down your body and cracking your bones. You become butter in his fingertips, lower back feeling better already.   “Lift your leg for me.”   You follow his instructions to a t. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask sleepily, lulled by his care. If he massaged you too, you might just cream your pants.   “I got this, I got this,” he reassures with a bit of arrogance. “I’m not a professional, but I know what I’m doing. You trust me, right?”   A noise is made at the back of your throat.   “If you break a bone on accident, I’ll sue you,” you mumble as he turns you over. “God, feels good.”   After a while, Jimin gets you to sit up and continues. He looks nice when he’s concentrating. Expression blank. Lips plump and in a line. Brows only slightly furrowed. “Considering you don’t have any ailments, you don’t need to get your bones cracked often. You should stretch and do some exercise instead.”   You scoff. “Having sex with you is enough exercise.”   To prove your point, you latch onto his arm and tug him towards you. Jimin smiles and the two of you break a sweat against each other on the table before either of his roommates come home.

[4th Year Winter Semester]   It was an invitation that you would’ve called yourself crazy for offering a year ago. But if it wasn’t for him editing your thesis and taking a load off your mind, you would’ve had a harder time.    You had him to thank for that.   “So?” Jimin’s seated across from you at the restaurant booth. It wasn’t surprisingly difficult to ask him to grab a bite with you. For some reason, you thought he would reject. “What’s the big news?”   Instead of answering, you reach into your bag and slide the envelope across the table.   He’s curious and takes it, pulling out the letter to read. You sip on your water, watching his expression intently. He mutters the words and it takes him through the first paragraph before he realizes. Then, at once, Jimin’s eyes widen. His mouth drops and he looks at you proudly.   “You got into law school?”   “Three of them,” you tell with a cheesy grin.    “T-That’s….fucking amazing. Holy fuck.” He reaches over and hugs you. It’s awkward considering there’s a whole table in the way, but you appreciate the sentiment. You’re giddy and giggling at how excited he is. It makes you feel like the first time you opened the letter yourself.   Jimin presses a kiss against your hair before withdrawing. “When did you find out?”   “Two days ago. I really thought I wasn’t going to get in since I got rejection letters last week from the other schools, but then three of them came in rapid succession.”   He shakes his head, still in awe. “Congratulations. Seriously. You deserve it, Y/N. God knows how hard you worked.”   “Thanks.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. “I was thinking of maybe leaving the city to a different uni, but….I’m going to stay with my parents for as long as I can to save up on loans.”   “Yeah, sounds good.” He nods. “Moving out can be expensive.”   “What about you? Have you applied to your masters program yet?”   Jimin laughs. “Actually, I was planning on telling you that today too. I didn’t bring any fancy letter with me though.”   You lean closer, sitting on the edge of your seat. “You got in?”   “I did. Yesterday.” His enormous smile causes your own to expand. “I’m gonna do it part-time while working at the same facility I did my internship at.”   You’re happy for him and you can tell by his expression that he’s genuinely excited for you too. The pair of you were taking steps forward for your future and while it was a little scary, for now, you enjoy the victory and pig out at the restaurant with little restraints.   At the end of the night, you’re both wine drunk when you stumble back to his dorm room and soon, you’re trying to muffle your whimpers with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. It doesn’t help when he presses the humming vibrator to your clit harder.   “J-Jimin,” you sob, fingers twisting into his sheets. You’re slumped against the headboard as he surrounds you.   “Louder,” he commands, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. The cold air of his bedroom made your nipples hardened, yet you feel hot all over, under his gaze and ruthlessness.    Your hand curls around his wrist. “Your roommates are sleep—” You cry and keen against his chest when he plunges the toy into your swollen cunt that’s leaking down your ass and thighs.   “It’s okay,” he murmurs in a low voice against your ear, “Let it go.”   You feel the toy nudge against your cervix, the vibrations trembling through your body and you orgasm hard with your forehead pressed against Jimin’s shoulder. Even then, he continues to draw it in and out of you, studying how you’ve creamed around the vibrator, how your slick is dripping to his sheets that are already stained with the scent of your shampoo.   “J-Jimin,” you whine loudly, not knowing if you’re trying to lean away from his touch or closer. “T-...too m-much!”   “You can take it,” Jimin softly coaxes and you nod.    You cum again after a minute and he immediately kisses you with a big smile before peppering pecks down to your neck. It makes you feel ticklish and winded.   “Hey...Jimin…”   “Hmm?”   “Are we still gonna do this after we graduate?” you ask in a quiet voice, laying back in the ruined sheets. “I’m gonna be busy and you are too.”   “We’ll figure it out.” He flops beside you and you both face each other. Jimin’s arm is draped over your waist and you stare at one another for a moment before he closes the distance.   Jimin nudges you for a languid kiss, your noses brushing as his soft, plush lips press against yours. It’s unhurried. Slow. He urges your mouth to part for him and his tongue slips in as you whimper, giving you a chance to properly taste him.   Sloppy, wet noises fill the room while heat rises to your cheeks. But you’re unbothered while swapping spit with Park Jimin. It’s lazy, yet it feels good. So much so that you’ve relaxed entirely.   In the back of your mind, you know you should get up and put some clothes on. Any cuddling or post-sex touching has largely been unprecedented before this and it’s not good to make habits you’ll have to eventually break. You should get your sweater off the floor, or at least slip on his purple t-shirt….   But you give into the temptation and shut your eyes for one second. One mere second.    That’s enough for you to doze off.   When Jimin realizes you’ve accidentally fallen asleep, he smiles to himself and tugs the blankets up to your shoulders, securing you in warmly.   //   You stifle another yawn with your hand.    It’s 9:30 in the goddamn morning and way too early for you. There’s a reason you pick afternoon classes, go to work afterwards and then go see Jimin to end your day off. There’s no situation good enough that warrants your alarm blaring before eight — but you suppose a graduation ceremony could be an exception.   “There’s so many people,” your dad gasps in wonderment, looking around the vast hall. “Do you know them all?”   “No.” You hold in your sigh. “I don’t.”   For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been running around looking for your parents after they’ve wandered off and gotten lost. If they weren’t spamming their cameras on their phone and telling you to smile in front of the odd statue or the meaningless bulletin board that wasn’t even part of your faculty, it was calling your name as loud as they could to find you in the crowds.   You’re happy over their enthusiasm but also burdened. It’s a lot of mixed feelings.   “Y/N?”   Dark hair and brown eyes — a certain someone who you weren’t expecting to run into is staring right at you with a boyish smile. “Jimin?” He looks good, a suit underneath and a black graduation gown over it that falls to his calf. His gown has a golden hood and tassel while yours is white — the colours symbolizing your different faculties and areas of study.    “Hey.” His gaze is warm. “You look nice.”   “Thanks. You too.”   You don’t linger on him for long, not when his parents are right by his side. You divert your vision and greet them politely. Jimin surprisingly looks a lot like his dad and his mom has a kind face. They seem like sweet people and you’re suddenly breaking into a sweat. “Nice to meet you.”   Your own parents make themselves known and you feel like your worlds are colliding as they shake hands and exchange names, congratulating each other on their child’s graduation.   You’re about to get them moving along when your mom nudges you. “Is this your boyfriend?”   Her voice is way too loud and you feel yourself burn in embarrassment.    “No. He’s just a friend,” you whisper it sharply but much your dismay, they look unconvinced.   You miss the way Jimin smiles to himself.   “We should get a picture!” his dad declares and your own dad looks even more elated at the idea of spamming more pictures. You already had to delete a hundred blurry ones, but your mom ignores your groan and pushes you both towards some weird artwork on the wall.   “Stand over here! Over here! Smile!”   Your parents end up sitting next to each other on the rows and you have no words, forced to sit at the bottom with the rest of your graduating class. It’s a wonder that the Arts Faculty was scheduled right before the Faculty of Kines. Fate or coincidence, you’re not sure yet.   But it’s still nice to see Jimin walk the stage and be able to cheer for him.   “Congratulations, Mr. Park.”   He grins. “Congratulations to you too, Miss L/N.”   It’s certain that the numerous celebrations with family, friends and relatives will be chaotic, so you take advantage of the opportunity while you still can. You steal just a little moment for your selfish desires by standing outside before you’re both bombarded by your circle of people.   “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.”   “Oh, stop it with the sappiness.” You can’t feign a roll of your eyes when your smile is so big.   He swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and laughing. “Why? Don’t like it?” And the little shit slyly leans in to whisper, “You like it when I call you my baby though.”   “Jimin!”   He laughs and you sigh with a smile.   You’re glad you ran into him.

[Post-Graduation]   You open the door, welcoming yourself in.   “Hey.”   Jimin’s on the couch and glances at you, unfazed at how you’ve waltzed right into his apartment with little warning. You’ve always knocked out of courtesy for his roommates, but ever since he moved out of the dormitories, you find little need to make him walk all the way to the door.   He’s watching a thriller and you flop down on his couch, leaning over to plant a quick peck against his mouth as a greeting. “How was work?”   “It was okay. A bit busy. I met this nice old lady and we chatted for a bit. She called me handsome, so there’s that.” He grins and you scoff lightly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as you watch the main character venture into an abandoned house on screen. Jimin loves his praises, so you’re not wholly surprised he’s kept a mental note of it.    You’re not sure why it’s important though. Anyone with eyes would agree he’s good-looking.   “How was class?”   “Awful,” you mumble, feeling tired against him. You came over to get rid of some sexual frustration, but you’re not even sure you have the energy to do anything anymore. “Commuting was brutal this morning. Traffic was backed up on the highway and I was late, and yesterday I had to drive back at night. My parents are driving me nuts too. I can’t study properly.”   Jimin hums a soothing note and slings an arm at the back of the couch where you’re sitting, letting you lean into him. It goes quiet as the two of you watch the suspenseful scene and then he absentmindedly pipes up after a minute, “You could always move in with me.”   He continues, “It’s closer to the university and it’s quiet during the day, so you can study. We could always study together too.”   It’s a good idea, but— “I can’t afford that.”   “I don’t mind paying rent for a while. It’s the same either way.”   It takes a second for the words sink in and then you’re peeling yourself off of him.   Your gaze is met with Jimin’s, eyes locking into one another and the movie is left in the background. “As roommates?”   He shrugs. “There’s only one bedroom, but sure.”   A studio apartment. One bed shared. Two people.   Watching movies. Having sex. Eating together.   It doesn’t sound bad to you whatsoever, but you contemplate it. It swirls around inside your head and you murmur, “Isn’t that breaking the rules of being friends with benefits?”   And you don't know why but Wendy’s words from the other day are echoing inside the caverns of your brain at the worst moment. “You know, your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly normal.” You weren’t sure what she meant and you still don’t know. Not when she had advertised and encouraged this kind of arrangement all those years ago. When she had told you many people got involved in each other like this.   But you’re starting to wonder if something is off.   Did you do something wrong? Did your relationship with Jimin spiral out of control? But everything feels normal.   After three years, you’d think you would’ve mastered the art of benefits by now.   You sigh, getting a headache. Yet, Jimin merely shrugs.    As if the definitions and boundaries don’t bother him whatsoever.    “Is it?”   “Kind of. I mean, living together, being mutually exclusive. It almost sounds like….”   “Like what?” His brows lift. “Like we’re dating?”   You feel hot in your face, skin toasted like a furnace. Maybe you’re being delusional or silly. Maybe he’s going to laugh at you. “This is what couples who are going to get engaged do.”   “Maybe we should date then…?” The pitch of Jimin’s voice raises at the end, not necessarily a question but neither a statement. It’s questionable like he’s unsure how you feel. Like he’s playing a guessing game. And then he smiles at your shocked expression.   Jimin turns to face you fully. His gaze is heavy, earnest. “Maybe we should date.”   This time, it’s repeated as an assertion.   Confident. Unwavering. Sincere.   Jimin leans in to kiss you as if he can’t resist anymore. It’s tender, taking you off guard and you lean into him, finally allowing yourself to become surrounded by him. Mind. Body. And soul.   When the two of you pull away, he smiles while catching his breath. “I-I’m down if you are. This apartment can be yours and you can study here and sleep here and whatever. We can eat together and I’ll buy you take out or cook. It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m cool with anything. We can keep being friends with benefits, if that’s what you want….so…......what do you want?”   You exhale lightly, feeling warm. “This...is a lot.”   “Is it?” Instantly, Jimin appears panicked and you hold back a laugh. “We’ve technically been together for three years and...what we’ve been doing recently is basically dating. In my opinion.”   “Did Wendy put you up to this?”   “No.” He shakes his head. “Frankly, the person I talk to most these days is you. And I like it that way.”   God, you hate him.    You pull Jimin in for another kiss, an aggressive and eager one. Enough that you can feel the heat off of his own face. You move to straddle his thighs and when you break apart, you muster a glare at him. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard not to catch feelings. You’re ruining all my efforts, you know that, Park?”   He grins. “Is this a yes?”   “It is.” This time, he’s the one to kiss you, sealing your lips together as he smiles against your mouth and squeezes giggles out of you. Even if he doesn’t say it, even if he’s saving it for another day, you know from his tender touches that he loves you. And it’s mutual.   No longer do you need to worry — leave right after the deed is done or be panicked when you’ve accidentally fallen asleep in his bed. You’re unashamed when he kisses you harder as a greeting, when he holds your hand, when you go out together. You can have pillow talks without needing to guard yourself, cuddle him, call him yours.   And when Christmas arrives, meaning sweater weather and snow dusting from the sky, you have someone to keep you warm. Someone who you can come back to and call your home.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Do you have an issue with Noda's way of depicting Wilk's moral as gray like the fandom? Espacially with the reveal of the land deed that may ensure a future for Asirpa and the Ainu but wasn't part of his original plan

Hum...

I don't really know what the fandom is thinking in regard to Wilk so I can't really comment on it.

It's also worth to remember that Wilk discovered about the existance of the land deed only a short time before Tsurumi caused an argument between him and the other Ainu rebels that ended up with them killing each other.

Prior to that moment Wilk had no idea the land deed existed and therefore he couldn't include it in his original plan.

It's also worth to ponder if that land deed could be included in Wilk's plan after Wilk learnt of its existance. I mean, at first the land deed is presented as a cool thing.

That land deed exists by 50 years. The Russian warship Kalevala incident whcih signed the end of the tractatives with the Russians is dated 1867.

Hijikata says the deed was signed while he was in the battle of Futamataguchi which took place on the fourth week of May 1869. The Republic of Ezo is disestablished on the 27th of June, 1869 and Enomoto has then the Meiji government accepted the contract.

We know the Ainu gave them half of the gold and retrieved the contract but now we should ask ourselves an important question: why no Ainu used the land deed to claim the land?

When Kimuspu shows it to Wilk we're in 1902, it means that the land deed remained hidden for 33 years despite Kimuspu being still alive and knowing of his existance.

If the problem was the gold, they could have said they spended it all on the land deed and use it. Yet they hid it along with the gold.

Kimuspu says everyone was killed by the Wen Kamuy.

Notice Kimuspu's expression when Wilk and the others see the land deed. It's creepy. We tend to consider the gold as the Wen Kamuy but the land deed was bought with the Wen Kamuy so it can be that it too is a Wen Kamuy.

The land deed is inconvenient for the Meiji government. In order not to honour it, they might have secretly killed Kimuspu's companions and forced him to live in hiding. So Kimuspu didn't try to use it or to have other Ainu use it and that's also why Wilk and the other Ainu didn't grab it and immediately tried to put it to use.

It's possible Ogata himself was sent there to retrieve the land deed as discreetly as possible or make sure no one were to find it, which is why he was fine with killing Wilk.

Of course things might change if Asirpa manages to put together a force that can oppose to the Meiji government. I mean, if Hijikata conqueers Hokkaido, the land deed can be negotiated with him and not with the Meiji government... or Hijikata can use it to give his claims of Hokkaido some legal ground.

in short the land deed couldn't figure in Wilk's previous plans because he had no idea it existed... but he could have ended up figuring in his final scheme as he might have hoped Asirpa, joining forces with Hijikata, would manage to put the land deed to good use.

But land deed put aside, I've no problems with Wilk having a gray morality, this makes him the same as everyone else in the cast, as well as human.

Humans tend to have a grey morality, pure white knights or pure black knights are more a thing of fairy tales.

It's narratively good that Wilk is a character with grey morality, it makes him real.

Of course the downside is that Wilk is no more a perfect idealistic hero.... or a cruel terrorist... but I think most of the fandom knew this already.

Wilk is mostly a man of his time and culture, with a vein of idealism mixed with a machiavellian and utilitaristic approach.

His idea that wolf culture is beautiful because he believes the wolves had killed a wolf because he had no place in their pack as he was sick, and that being a logical creature who cut away any excess kindness and has a functional efficency clearly tell us Wilk is not someone who's defending minorities because he believes everyone has a right to live and be protected.

Wilk's mindsetting is no better than the one of Japan and Russia who would decide minorities have no place in their country and sacrifice them.

He sets on protecting minorities not for some noble feeling but because he BELONGS to a minority and doesn't want to be judged the dischargeable spare.

In fact, when he decides to switch to Hokkaido he easily discharges the minorities on Karafuto even if he knew demanding from them to transfer in Hokkaido might be harmful for them.

In his group of three Wilk is the lest idealistic and the more prone to sacrifice others for his own goal.

Even Tsurumi realized with is the more cold blooded of the group, comparing him to Okubo.

HTo Wilk's credit there's to say Wilk is also willing to sacrifice himself for his goal, we saw it when he took a personal risk to deliver the bomb when attempting the emperor's murder or when he skinned himself to hide.

Wilk is not the sort of man who solely sacrifices others for his goal, he also has no problems sacrificing himself.

But Wilk lacked Kiro's flexibility (Kiro originally was all for prioritizing the Karafuto minorities and, after trying to make a family in Hokkaido he decided to raise all the minorities to equal level) or Sofia's compassion (she has nothing on Hokkaido except the families and the dreams of Wilk and Kiro and to honour them she's willing to fight for Hokkaido as well).

I think a good part of Wilk's mistakes/problems steems exactly from his lack of flexibility from his determination in carrying on his idea, believing his idea is the best.

He's intelligent and probably this caused others to rely on him a lot and helped him to accomplish many things, giving him the feeling he isn't prone to be wrong, but this ended up on coming back to bite him.

He makes an enemy out of Kiroranke, when he could have tried to face him, reason things with him and smooth them over.

He thinks he can keep the Hokkaido Ainu partisans unite and working under him while not being fully honest with them (he doesn't tell them he's a Russian partisan who originally came there to get the Hokkaido Ainu gold for the Russian minorities) only because now he has wholeheartedly embraced their cause, with the result only a couple of words from Tsurumi cause the whole group to explode and people to start killing each other.

He assumes Asirpa will just blindly embrace his goals and methods and become the Ainu leader... and the Ainu will accept her, without realizing Asirpa is her own person and might not be interested in all this (though this was a mistake typical of his time period) and that for Hokkaido Ainu it was really difficult to accept a woman as a leader, never mention one so young.

And so on.

Wilk makes mistakes in good faith, he means well for the people he loves but ends up hurting them, he's human like each of us.

He lives in a world where his rights are stepped over and people often has no other way to be heard than taking up in arms because he doesn't have the options we have nowadays and can't vote for a new president or pacifically protest to have his right acknowledged so most of his choices wouldn't be right for our time period so of course we aren't meant to take his same choices but we should still look at him as a man of his world and time.

A man who wasn't perfect, but a man like us anyway, and that's this what makes Noda a great storyteller, that all his grey characters are ultimately like us, humans.

At least those are my two cents about this.

Thank you for your ask!

[mydisasteracademia]

Quirk Oddities: LOV

A/N: Warning, reeeeeeeeeally long post under the cut lol yeet

Gotou Imasuji/Muscular:

You have NO IDEA how happy I am that we F I N A L L Y know this man’s name,, anyway

Due to his Quirk having to do with his muscles (and obviously, augmentation of said muscles), he’s constantly in danger of muscular dystrophy if he doesn’t exercise them enough, even when not tapping into that muscular form.

Also feeds into his ‘blood knight’ behavior -- his eternal battle to fight stronger and stronger people and his own fight code matches with his Quirk, which gives him a stronger and stronger physique. He’s literally always itching for a fight.

Needs to eat a lot more than your average person, more on par with someone like Fatgum. Eats a ton of proteins and has a relatively healthy diet compared to a lot of other people. He’s very strict about what he eats so that he can get the maximum amount of energy for his muscled-up form.

Mustard:

His Quirk makes him more quiet and chill than most of the League; due to its somnolent properties (and due to the fact that he likely accidentally exposed himself to it far too often when he was younger), he reserves his energy for when he truly needs it.

As a negative side-effect, however, he suffers from chronic insomnia, which is mostly to blame for his irritability and (relatively) fragile mental state (not ‘fragile’ as in ‘literally an inch away from snapping’, but moreso ‘this close to mania at all times’.)

Drinks a lot of tea to try and calm himself down in the evenings. Lavender and chamomile are his teas of choice. On the flip side, tends to drink energizing drinks during the day so that he has enough energy to function.

Really prone to emotional lows. If he’s not careful, he can fall into depression and can get anxious very easily.

Moonfish:

Eats a ton of meats. Just... raw meats. All the time. He’s incredibly unhealthy. The bloodier the meat, the better. Will not eat anything cooked more than medium.

Will try to bite your arm off if you try to take food away from him. Actually, probably just tries to bite your arm off regardless. Don’t feed him unless you have a Quirk to subdue him in like 0.58 seconds.

Has to keep his teeth in pristine condition so that they don’t... accidentally break off when he’s trying to attack someone. Spends an obsessive amount of time brushing every morning and night. It’s one of the only times you will ever see this man even close to sanity, ironically.

Kenji Hikiishi/Magne:

Used to have to be cautious with using her Quirk when she was younger. Due to her inability to wield it correctly, she ended up magnetizing everything within a 2.5 meter radius. Eventually, she learnt to control it, but this caused some upsets when she was in school and people learned to avoid her if they didn’t want to get thrown like a ragdoll.

Very attracted to people. Not in a sexual way, but she loves socializing and can often wander near groups of people without realizing at first.

This isn’t an oddity with her body, per se, but she used to constantly be careful about magnets getting stuck to her giant magnet. It’s a pain to pluck them all off, so she eventually just started wrapping it, which negated some of its effects on anything close by.

It’s honestly good that her Quirk doesn’t work on herself, for many obvious reasons. When she was a young child in the first years after it manifested, she always questioned it. Now she’s incredibly glad it doesn’t, considering how much havoc she could wreck on other people. Instead she’s more in-tune with it, in a sense. She can tell apart red and blue ‘magnets’ very easily due to that.

Kurogiri:

Y’all don’t know how tempted I was to put Oboro’s name in there lmao

Constantly has a dark aura around himself that looks like a thin fog. I know, that’s canon, but unlike his actual fog created around his neck, this stays around his actual body shape so that even if the collar is gone and he can’t form more fog, the aura would be there enough to obscure some of his more defining features.

Due to him being a literal reanimated corpse, the reason his eyes are glowing and yellow is due to being reanimated. That, and yellow looks cool as hell with black and purple, amirite?

Prefers totally dark rooms. If he’s by himself just chilling after a long, hard day of being a babysitter to about 6-9 societal outcasts, he’s sitting or lying down, eyes closed, with all of the lights off, just basking in it.

Adding to that last point, enjoys misty, foggy days. He doesn’t so much enjoy rain as much as he does the general vibe of a fog-dense area. Really feels at home in it.

His sense of pain is highly muted, and his body is incredibly cold to the touch. I mean, he’s literally a reanimated corpse. It takes a lot of force for him to actually feel anything, and this goes for non-pain sensations too. Often loses feeling in his hands and feet and they feel like wisps of mist.

??? Shigaraki/All For One

Due to his Quirk’s innate nature of taking and giving, he’s a huge kleptomaniac. He just can’t resist swiping things (and maybe giving them back later).

He’s drawn to studying Quirks. Like a certain someone else we know, he’s obsessed with hashing out the more intimate details of a person’s power, and then he can truly decide whether or not he’s taking it.

His body is more naturally suited for taking on more than one Quirk at a time, but without his life-support system he would be royally fucked. Many of his Quirks require a lot of energy and his body is just too weak in its current state with all of his injuries to sustain them all. I know, he’s still incredibly powerful, but he’s considered ‘weak’ right now. Imagine him at his peak. How many Quirks did he have? 50? 100? More?

Adding onto his kleptomania, this applies to people too. He’s incredibly possessive of people he deems worthy of his time (his brother and Tomura being two notable examples) and will do whatever it takes to keep them at his side in the name of ‘keeping them safe’. If he had a family somewhere and he found out about them, you bet your ass he would go full yandere on them, but isn’t hesitant to lay the emotional/mental manipulation on thick.

Tomura Shigaraki:

As I’ve stated a few times before, due to his Quirk, Tomura’s body is constantly destroying itself, from within and outside. His skin is the outward reflection of it; after being found by AFO he was weak and easily sick due to his immune system not fully ready to handle the destructive properties of Decay.

Sometimes he’ll choke on debris from his own mouth and throat, as I’ve stated before. Very prone to ulcers and muscular dystrophy, so he has to be careful to exercise just enough that he staves off his body totally shutting down.

Has to be incredibly careful with his diet, because the wrong foods could damage his body more than before. CAN NOT HAVE SPICY/HOT FOODS. His taste buds have already been damaged enough due to forays into it before, and he can’t afford to sustain even more damage to his throat.

Has to drink a ton of water, not just to flush down debris in his throat but because he’s very prone to having a dry mouth. Part of the reason his voice (well, English Dub voice anyway) is so raspy is because his throat is constantly dry. If he doesn’t have enough water, he’s prone to bad coughing fits.

His nails are actually quite brittle, and when he scratches his neck he has to be careful not to break them. His lips get chapped easily and will split and bleed unless he lays on some ointment.

AND SPEAKING OF OINTMENT! I know the jokes about him needing moisturizer/Chapstick are hilarious, but Tomura has extremely sensitive skin and can not put on anything that has perfumes of any kind in them, otherwise it triggers a severe reaction and it takes him a while to heal. There’s a specific brand of ointment that he and Dabi use, and like the flame user he has to be constantly reapplying it during the day, otherwise his skin dries out even more.

He’s drawn to death/destruction, much like Toga is fascinated by blood and death (and birds). Much of the time, he causes said death/destruction. It’s so morbidly fascinating to him and it fills him with a weird sense of pride or calm.

Prefers humid conditions. If it’s more arid, he suffers. Can’t go out in the sun too much, because he burns very easily (more than Dabi, surprisingly). He likes lukewarm, cloudy weather, and especially autumn (can you guess why?).

Can’t do alcohol. Not just that he legally can’t drink (I doubt he’d give a damn about that), but consuming too much would further damage his body and he can’t afford to do anything too reckless.

Himiko Toga:

Her Quirk makes it so that she’s prone to anemia much easier than a normal person. She needs to keep her iron levels up, especially as a teenage girl, so she usually goes for more iron-rich foods (and especially meats). Give her a blood bag and she’ll drink it like a Capri-Sun.

Normally, a person can’t ingest much blood through their digestive system, otherwise they get sick. Himiko doesn’t have much of a problem, thankfully, but she still has to be careful not to drink too much otherwise she does feel nauseated (kind of like eating too much food will leave you full and vaguely sick).

Like Tomura, she’s fascinated with death, but to a more obsessive degree (given that we’ve seen her literally eat a dead bird before). Unlike him, she actively seeks it out, and most often creates death herself.

Jin Bubaigawara/Twice:

Oh boy, what else is there to say that hasn’t already been revealed in canon? I’ll try my best to go with headcanon here, but Twice is a complicated person to speculate about given that we’ve seen most of everything there is to know.

His body constantly feels like it’s about to split apart. It’s not much of a painful feeling as it is an odd sensation. He’s constantly aware of it and it does a toll on his overall mental state Every time he does create clones, the feeling briefly intensifies, and he finds it very hard not to keep splitting.

Needs the suit to feel like he’s ‘contained’ himself, if that makes sense. Like, he’s less likely to physically split in half if he’s wearing it. That, and of course, needs the suit to keep his crumbling mental state in check.

Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress:

Much like AFO, he’s a compulsive kleptomaniac, especially for expensive/shinier things. He just can’t help but swipe things up, but if the other members ask for it back, he’s generally good about handing it over.

Sometimes is filled with a lot of nervous energy that manifests itself in fidgeting with his marbles. In those periods of time, he feels even stronger compulsions to steal and they mostly go away when he does.

Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner:

There’s so much to put here. Mainly gecko-related things.

As I’ve stated before, he thrives in hot, humid weather. Loves chilling on sun-warmed rocks the best. SUFFERS in the cold.

It’s a legitimate struggle not to eat worms or bugs whenever he sees a juicy one. When he was a kid, he just ate them whenever, but after being bullied for this compulsion, he tried to stop and eventually just hid it from others.

Sometimes when startled, he might make a chirping noise, much to his irritation. If any other gecko-type people are around, they might chirp back.

Sheds a few times a year on a fairly regular schedule. Gets really uncomfortable and itchy for a bit and gets irritated more easily as he sheds. Once it’s over, his mood gets back to normal.

Enjoys dark places to just hide in sometimes. If you can’t find him, maybe you’ll be able to find him in a dark crevice or a hidden nook or cranny. He feels a degree of safety in spots like this.

As we’ve already seen, he can stick to walls. I don’t know why, but that just makes me happy for some reason.

Touya Todoroki/Dabi:

Hoo boy. This one is a doozy.

Despite his Quirk, his body is more suited to cold temperatures, as seen in canon. This means he greatly prefers cold conditions and suffers in heat. He’s one of the only ones of the League who can be out in winter weather without bundling up.

Burns extremely easily, especially when it comes to consuming hot/spicy things. If you’ve ever burnt your tongue on a hot drink, that happens to him at least 70% of the time, but not just his tongue. His entire throat gets burnt, and it takes a while to recover.

His skin is incredibly sensitive to temperature, and whenever he uses his Quirk too much he burns more and more of it. But due to the large amount of his body that’s burnt and scarred, a lot of his sweat glands don’t work properly, and this can overheat him even more. He constantly has to be careful about his internal temperature and often carries a thermos of something cold to help himself cool down. He needs to take colder showers otherwise his wounds get aggravated. It just soaks up the moisture and he’s more prone to bleeds.

As I’ve hc’ed before, Dabi needs eyedrops. Due to his tearducts being damaged enough so that he can’t cry tears (as he’s stated himself), much like Aizawa, his eyes get dry and irritated way too easily. He constantly has to be reapplying eyedrops to keep his eyes moist and try to heal some of the damage already done. If he goes for too long without them, he’s prone to bleeding, and witnessing this man literally cry blood is viscerally disturbing.

His staples can get easily irritated and due to his fire they stay hot for longer. If he’s not careful when dealing with them, he’s liable to get burnt worse just from the metal. If he’s too rough, they will start bleeding and he’ll have to disinfect his wounds yet again.

The purple parts of his body? Third-degree burns. He can’t feel a damn thing. Doesn’t mean he can’t rip and tear, but he’s likely not gonna feel it. He’s had to throw away a lot of shirts because the bloodstains were just too hard to get out.

Prefers drinking things to eating things whenever his jaw is sore from his wounds. While he was first healing as a teenager, all he did was drink things until he could reliably work his jaw again. Cold brew and ice-blended coffees are his drink of choice.

Gets sick really easily. Ever since he was a young child, he’s been more susceptible to ailments like the flu and needs to constantly keep up his health. His body is weaker than it should be, and that frustrates him a lot. As he’s stated in canon himself, he can be easily motion-sick.

[tasloveskk]

Some folklore thoughts 💭🌲✨🏳️‍🌈 

Part 1

 I’m going to take it song by song while also tracking key themes in red! Please also feel free to add in your thoughts in the comments, I’m curious to see what else people think folklore is about...

folklore

‘folklore’ is defined as “a body of popular myths or beliefs relating to a particular place, activity, or group of people.” or, by Steve from Taylor’s IC,”the traditional beliefs, customs, and stories of a community, passed through the generations by word of mouth.” Taylor herself in her introduction/prologue says  “A tale that becomes folklore is one that is passed down and whispered around. Sometimes even sung about. The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible. Speculation, over time, becomes fact. Myths, ghost stories, and fables. Fairytales and parables. Gossip and legend. Someone’s secrets written in the sky for all to behold.”

the 1

- firstly, it’s the best opening track she’s ever had! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

- “I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit” = sounds to me like a conversation you have with an ex, like someone is saying “yeah I’m doing great, I’m dating/doing ‘x’” the first time they run into their ex in a while.

-“I thought I saw you at the bus stop” has BIG “this city screams your name” energy but is also very clever by Taylor because Miss Karlie Kloss is ALWAYS on advertisements on bus stops/literal buses around the globe 🚌

- “I hit the Sunday matinee” to me seems like an inside thing, because obviously as the world biggest pop star, if taylor is going to go to the theatre or cinema, she’ll pick the least busy and most filled with older people which would be the Sunday matinee.

- “you know the greatest films of all time were never made” —> the greatest love stories never get told? happen behind the scenes? There’s something deeper here but I’m still forming the cohesive idea!

- “if you wanted me you really should’ve showed” = showed up or showed for the world, either way Taylor wanted KK to chose her not Josh so they could work but that didn’t happen so now she’s left to wonder.

- “roaring twenties” evokes two clear images for me! 1. They were both in their 20s for the entiretyof their relationship, the best years were spent together and 2. The Roaring 20s were a time of independence, pushing boundaries and breaking the rules of prohibition - which is basically what Taylor and Karlie were doing behind the scenes.

- “if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you” = let’s say, ONLY FOR ARGUMENTS SAKE, that Taylor really IS with Toe, that still means that this song is her yearning for someone else who she always loves more AND had to lose at some point. Looking at her past beards “relationships”, there are only two plausible options - Joe (which seems unlikely seeing as they’re still “together”) or CH who she supposedly wrote “you would’ve been the one if you were a better man” about. Either way doesn’t seem like it fits. However, if you look at it as Karlie is the 1, it becomes clear - it would’ve been fun being best friends and lovers for ever baking cookies and dancing around the kitchen, it would’ve been forever if Karlie hadn’t “married” jerk, it would’ve been her and it still is. 💗

- “in my defense I have none, for never leaving well enough alone” & “I know that I went psycho on the phone, I never leave well enough alone” are about the same moment with the same person = she didn’t leave well enough alone because she kept writing about Karlie and re-engaging us Kaylors as well as I’m sure, she kept up with seeing Karlie or keeping tabs on her to the point where it forced someone to reach out to the other.... she can’t apologise or defend her actions because you can’t explain the things you do for true love.

- “I have this dream you’re doing cool shit” aka starting a podcast, expanding businesses, making headway as an entrepreneur and being a highly-paid and respected international model? Seems straight forward 👀

- “you meet some woman on the Internet and take her home” = 1. Karlie is specifically interested in tech and the internet, it is literally her entire business and 2. if Karlie and Tay did break up, then because Karlie is actually NOT married to Josh, she hooked up with someone she met through the internet somehow (probs social media not an app) and Taylor found out this is probably a snarky comment about that from a jealous ex. Could possibly also be about the dream mentioned above. 💔🔐

- “another day waking up alone” = lost her lover, sleeps alone? Bold claim on opening tack.

- “persist and resist” = very famous feminist saying, civil rights/political echo?

- “the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today” = this what if mentality continues through the album but personally, I think this is about Kissgate.

- “Rosé flowing with your chosen family” = repeats later, your chosen family could refer to Karlie’s group of friends like Derek and Jourdan etc.

- “would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me” = flipped perspective, wishes Karlie chose her.

- “dragging up the grave another time” = firstly, THAT pin on her EW jacket now makes more sense. second, Taylor has written about Karlie for 4 straight albums now, she hasn’t let their love story die even if they did.

-

cardigan

- “brand new phone” = this is not some story, this is current reality. Taylor hides behind era-specific language and imagery in some other songs but this one is clearly about here and now, and her.

- “sensual politics” to me stands out because only really here and in TLGAD is politics explicitly mentioned and sensual politics to me screams sleeping with someone for political gain or with political connections which certainly sounds like someone...

- “when you’re young, they assume you know nothing” = sounds to me like a lot like a) love story and b) “you don’t know you’re gay, it’s just a PHASE! you’ll grow out of it!” 🏳️‍🌈

- “chase 2 girls, lose the one” = supposedly, when KK and TS met, Taylor was still in love/entangled with Dianna so perhaps she’s reflecting on making the wrong choice?

- CIWYW links: my baby’s high above the whole scene—> heartbeat on the high line, tidbit:as is clear in both Lover & 1989 New York is a sacred place for TS and KK’s love story, the high line is a) a beautiful NYC icon and b) right in between the girls’ two places...

- as mentioned, miss Karlie ELIZABETH Kloss was the brand model for Levi’s and definitely has worn some sequins and black lipstick on cobblestones sooooo.... 🤷🏼‍♀️

- “you drew stars around my scars” = see Drake’s birthday party and the infamous third Polaroid mystery 👀

- “stepping on the last train” could mean one of two things to me; 1. The last resort for KK was marrying J*sh or 2. the last train could represent some goodbye the girls had where KK chose something/someone else over Taylor.

- “peter losing Wendy” is such an interesting metaphor on so many levels but specifically, Wendy loses Peter because she wakes up (from nearly dying but nvm) and grows up and stops believing in Neverland and magic, basically Wendy loses an attachment to Peter because her reality shifts and that’s what gets remembered especially in the Disney version of the story. HOWEVER, the opposite is also true meaning Peter Pan loses Wendy because he can never co-exist with her again, he can never grow up or bring her back to Neverland without either killing her or ruining her. So this idea that someone wanted to change the ending from peter losing Wendy because he had to do what was best for her because he loved her echoes as Karlie didn’t want to marry Jerk or hurt Taylor but had to in order to protect her. Right? 😅

- “leaving like a father, running like water” = Taylor’s parents got divorced and there’s SOME thoughts Scott left the house and Taylor lives with her Mom in Nashville in her teen years.

- “I knew everything when I was young” - Taylor has always know she was LGBT+ 🌈 and also, baby VSFS vibes because as we all know, “we were both young when I first saw you...” send tweet.

- “I knew you’d come back to me” hopefully, HOPEFULLY foreshadows the girls being together/coming out soon !!!!!!! 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

- music video wise, I’ll do a break down soon.

TLGAD

- ‘Rebekkah’ refers to the previous owner of Taylor’s Watch Hill, RI house, Rebekah Harkness. She was a divorcee until marrying Standard Oil heir William (aka Bill) Hale Harkness, a new-money dynasty was formed in this time from their profit. There are MANY wild, whimsical stories about ‘Betty’ (which is obviously an extended metaphor of folklore)  that this song tries to re-create/recapture.  

- Taylor is also known as ‘Becky’ due to the popular meme so this is quite literally a play on her own character as well as the previous inhabitants of the house.

- St Louis is not only Rebekkah’s hometown, but also Karlie Elizabeth Kloss’. 

- “the wedding was charming, if a little gouche” seems like a direct shot fired at Karlie’s woodsy photoshoot of 2018 😂😂(ironically, folklore’s key aesthetic is the woods!!)

- “it must’ve been her fault his heart gave out” refers explicitly to William dying of a heart attack in the house, but subtly I feel like this is a dig at the media who constantly blame women for things they cannot control, as they have done with Taylor too many times to even count. 

- “who knows if she never showed up, what could’ve been” seems like Taylor is stuck thinking about what may have happened for her and Karlie if things had been different, see the 1. 

- “she/I had a marvellous time ruining everything” is such an incredibly provoking lyric on two fronts, 1. obviously taylor buying her RI house had a massive impact on an otherwise sleepy holiday town that is now more famous for Taylor’s july 4 parties than anything else and 2. seems introspective or personal, as if the things that ruined everything for Karlie and Taylor were the best and most marvellous parts of their relationship (big sur, kissgate etc.) 

- “flew in all her bitch pack friends from the city” is not only about the friends and celebs Rebekkah was notorious for hosting but also Taylor’s ‘bitches and model’ girl gang circa 2015 which includes one Karlie Kloss. 

- “blew through the money on the boys and the ballet” refers to Rebekkah’s love of wasting her fortune on things, including a ballet company that went under not long after she created it BUT also refers to Taylor paying so many boys to be her beards and PR stunts whilst also spending her money on a certain ex-Ballerina. Also remember her AMA’s performance of Lover/ bts of Shake It Off? 😉😉😉

- “50 years is a long time” - 50 seems deliberate, a bit of a reach but note it WAS the 50th anniversary of Stonewall last year. 🏳️‍🌈

-  “free of women with madness, their men and bad habits and THEN IT WAS BOUGHT BY ME.” - this clearly shows that ALL the songs are being narrated by Taylor, some of the lyrics are about her, some are about these fictional or fantastical characters she’s created but there is her truth behind all of them too. 

- “the loudest woman this town has ever seen” = Taylor is undoubtedly the most famous woman in the town who regualrly causes uproar there (see the Sea Wall debacle and the Taylor Swift Tax)

- in all, the two famed women owner’s of Holiday House have many overlaps and are forever intertwined. 

exile

- “i can see you standing honey with his arms around your body” as the opening line is LOUD. to me, feels like this is about ALL those staged photos of Josh and Karlie uncomfortable/fake as hell on social media. 

- “laughing but the joke’s not funny at all” is something we’ve all thought about Karlie’s marriage before and is about that moment where if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry at the situation. 

- “it took you 5 whole minutes to pack up ... holding all this love out here in the hall” to me is about someone moving out of a shared home, like Karlie from Taylor’s NYC apartment, after a break up or fight. We know it is MORE than likely that the girls’ broke up, for a while or for good, in 2017/18. 

- “I think I’ve seen this film before, and didn’t like the ending” is a lot like “Cause cruelty wins in the movies, I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you” / “All of my heroes die all alone.” which makes me truly believe that delicate > the archer > exile are all the progression of the same love story.  ❤️

- “now I’m in exile seeing you out” = both of them have lost their home, exiled from the relationship.

- “I can see you staring honey, like he’s just your understudy” has a lot to unpack. Firstly, see this photo. Second, as a beard, Joe is quite literally Karlie’s understudy - stepping in only to fill a public void or play her part when she can’t. 

- “like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me” is basically this tweet

- “second, third and hundredth chances” - hopefully this means the girls WILL be together again soon!!! 

- “those eyes add insult to injury” - Taylor has often made explcit reference to her lover’s eyes, but this could also mean the eyes of the public on her every move and relationship not allowing her to properly grapple with break ups. 👁️

-  “i’m not your problem anymore, so who am i offending?” - homophobes love to say wlw or mlm relationships “offend” them or their beliefs, so who could taylor be offending if she’s publicly in a straight relationship? 

- “you were my crown”, Taylor was/is Karlie’s princess, if Karlie is gone, Taylor doesn’t feel like she’s a princess anymore. Likewise, Karlie is Taylor’s sunshine which makes the moody, misty, dark aesthetics all the more relevant to this album. 

- “so I’m leaving out the side door’ - this side door? the other side of the door?

- “all of this time, we always walked a very thin line” between outing themselves and being happy? 

- “I gave so many signs” - Taylor has queercoded EVERY album since her self-titled, she has been dropping hints and signs for years that she is LGBT+ so it must be exhausting to have to keep hiding who she loves. This is repeated so many times - it means a lot. 

- written with William Bowery who nobody can quite identify, but Karlie and Taylor have been to the Bowery many times together and William is mentioned earlier in TLGAD

- this whole song is a duet, a two-sided conversation between lovers - her and karlie both without each other. 

my tears ricochet

- Track 5 is, as per usual, deeply confessional, personal, emotive and moving. 😿😿

- there are lots of theories and layers to this masterpiece of a song, including that it’s in reference to big machine. I personally think every single song of Taylor’s is made up of layers that reflect multiple things in her life and experience so plausibly it can be about multiple things all at once including Sco** and Scumbag as well as Karlie, who was under Scumbag’s management for the majority of the decade. Another theory which with every new listen I think is more and more possible is that this is alternating between Taylor and Karlie’s perspectives. 

- ‘if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too” whoever is associated with Taylor will ALWAYS be dragged down with her. If she’s being attacked, they will be too. Big 2016 energy. 

- “even on my worst day, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me?” could be directed at a lover, or at Big Machine, or even the public for all the shit they’ve said about Taylor over the years. 

- “I swear I loved you ‘till my dying day” seems a lot like the 1, as well as could be about the music and the label she helped build. 

- “I didn’t have it within myself to go with grace.” Taylor was LOUD about her split from Big Machine, she called them out (rightly) and made noise which is not a ‘graceful’ split. 

- “you’re the hero flying around saving face” very easily is about S+S jackasses but deeper than that, while Taylor was under immense attack and criticism, everyone who actually like her music pretended suddenly to hate it and her to stay ‘cool’ 

- “cause if I’m dead to you why are you at the wake?” this lyric becomes especially important in the final verse but essentially those who publicly distanced themself from Taylor still showed up when she was thriving again and/or because they actually truly loved her *uhmm karlie uhmm* 

- “cursing my name, wishing I stayed” either at Big Machine or with Karlie/Taylor. 

- “some to make a diamond ring” > firstly we still have never understood the ring image from the LWYMMD and ME! videos, it is entirely possible this is a continuation of that same symbol/image. Second, I think this hints to Karlie getting ‘engaged’ while still being with Taylor, the rock for the ring in the song was found by the two people gathering stones after all. 

- “you know i didn't want to have to haunt you” both Taylor and Karlie have big reputations all over the world that follow them everywhere. For either one, they will always be haunted by reminders of each other. 

- “you wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me” - on the Big Machine side, Taylor made the label professional and big, she is literally the sole reason it succeeded in the music industry so she handed Sco** his fortune and reputation which he still had when he sold her music to Scumbag and got into a very dirty bed with him. From the Karlie side, many people have noted that not only does she wear her black cartier necklace, which is assumed to be from Taylor, but to her ‘wedding’ wore a necklace she’d worn before with Taylor. 

- “when I’d fight you’d tell me I was brave” could refer to Sco** encouraging her in 2016 to defend herself. Could refer to Karlie supporting her behind the scenes. 

- ‘and I can go anywhere I want, just not home” seems like a continuation from exile, as in she’s lost the place she called home because her lover is no longer there but could also mean she can’t go back to her other albums and the house (see the lover music video) that they created as her musical home.

- “you will still miss me in your bones” could be about Sco** losing his money and label without her there to physically support and carry it or about the fact that the love Taylor and Karlie had is so ingrained it’s in their bones forever. 

- “and i still talk to you when I’m screaming at the sky” this lyric has a lot of possible interpretations (i’ve seen one about cursing out God?) but i think it’s similar to “asking the traffic lights if i’ll be alright” as in, it’s Taylor asking the universe to help her make sense of things. 

- “when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies” suggests a) sco** + scumbag is still haunted by the music they stole from Taylor because it was literally the backbone of the business which is now practically worthless and b) that Karlie is kept awake by the songs Taylor has written for and about her over the years which again were stolen away by the jackasses at Big Machine.  

- “you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same” again, same idea - big machine will never be profitable without her/while they hold her masters hostage. BUT Karlie wise, breaking up with Taylor broke her too? 

- this is where the song changes. it shifts from Taylor’s story to someone else’s, personally I think Karlie. 

- “you turned into your worst fears” as in she settled for the money and sold her values off by marrying Josh. Also, Karlie was under Scumbag’s management for years (part of Taylor’s hatred of him was him keeping the girls’ from doing as they pleased) so by being completely controlled by him, she turned into this completely fake person. Contrast 2014/15 Karlie with 2017/18 Karlie and it so much more all about PR and money. 

- “you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years” - sco** and scumbag have made so many false excuses for their behaviour and completely erased the good relationship between the Swifts and sco**. Not sure yet what the Karlie side is here but it’s here somewhere. 

- in conclusion, this is about Big Machine and Karlie. As the first song Taylor wrote for the album, I think it’s clear just how incredibly multi-faceted this album is. ☕☕☕

mirrorball

- first off, we can never forget about this and this look from both girls. ✨✨

- “I’ll to show you every version of yourself tonight”, the public and the private sides to them both. this is big glass closet energy in my opinion 

- “and when I break it’s in a million pieces” is so personal and heartbreaking. 2016 and Kaylor breakup vibes. I cannot elaborate at this time. 

- “when no one is around my dear” = the secrecy, forbidden love motif returns and again, if she’s in a hetero relationship, what’s to hide? 

- “you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes”, Just an fyi, Karlie, a giraffe, is 6′2″, Taylor is 5′10″ -- thats a big difference. 🦒🦒🦒

-  “i know they said the end is near” = end of the relationship or the end of hiding it, either way, it’s a romantic last private moment together, swaying as the room burns down. 

- “i can change everything about me to fit in” = Taylor when she was starting out was forced to create this all innocent, american-girl image of herself. She has had to hide herself to succeed, as she said in Miss Americana, she was muzzled. 

- “you are not like the regulars, the masquerade revelers” = Karlie is different to everyone else, or any other ex, ‘masquerade’ implies masked or hidden figures at a party, very Love Story 

- “and the called off the circus, burned the disco down” = the ‘circus’ could be the media/public, or all the illusions Taylor has cast in order to appear straight. The ‘disco’, and Taylor is the ‘mirror ball’ to her lover means that this isolated existence of just the two of them. 

- “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything” for now, she’s still closeted, she’s still trying to have the best of everything. 

- “I’m still a believer, but I don’t know why” believer in everything working out perhaps, or perhaps believing it’s better if she’s in the closet and it’s only the two of them. 

- “never been a natural” = she has completely created herself through years off trying to be what people want, not who she naturally is. 

seven

- “picture me” implies this is retrospective of Taylor, she’s reflecting on her childhood/youth. 

- “I hit my peak at Seven” could either refer to the age 7 or album 7, ‘Lover’ which many critics argued was her best work. 

- “Over the creek I was too scared to jump in” = fear of jumping is something Taylor has discussed in many songs but this is different, the creek represents something she fears will drown her.

- “High in the sky with Pennsylvania under me” = obviously, Taylor was born and raised in rural PA, so this truly is a childhood memory unearthed and explored. It’s personal to Taylor, it’s her story. 👏🏼

- “Are there still beautiful things?”  Recognizing the world isn’t all daisies and rainbows 

- “cross your heart, don’t tell no other” = again, secret keeping and hiding something is a big queer image, ‘cross your heart’ is a quite childish phrase but it’s adult equivalent in Taylor’s world is an NDA, ie swearing people to secrecy is something she's always known... 🔐

- “Although i can’t recall your face, I still got love for you” = this childhood love has faded with time to memories, this girl simultaneously forgotten and remembered. 

- “Your braids like a pattern” = definitely about a girl (1996 rural Pennsylvania was not the kind of place where boys had braids), specific use of YOUR pronoun not ‘my’ or ‘our’ suggesting again it’s about a girl. Very obviously about a first girl crush. 🌈 

- “passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long” = firstly, reference to Neruda’s poem Taylor used in the red prologue. second, folksongs change slightly from generation to generation but the heart/melody remains the same meaning that in Taylor’s mind, the story of her first girl love has changed but it’s still the same song/story all the years later. also, clearly a reminder of the setting of the song and the album as a whole being folklore. 💛

- “your dad is always mad and that must be why” feels a lot like Love Story and forbidden love, also again rural Pennsylvania in the mid-1990s was not the most liberal place so I can imagine a lot of homophobic ideas that perforated Taylor’s childhood.

- “I think you should come live with me” is such an innocent image of someone in love and wanting to just fix things by bringing them home, it also is like a baby gay version of uhauling 

- “we could be pirates” = pirates are not just a childhood image/motif but also one historically seen as gay, gangs of pirates often had ‘mateolage’ agreements that basically were like widow’s benefits. See John Swann. ☠️

- “you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet.” = I think this one is explicitly clear but just to be sure, Taylor could’ve said “hide when he lost it, hide if you wanted, hide in the woods too” etc. Read this for a full understanding of why it such a LOUD image to use.  It is VERY DELIBERATE PEOPLE. 🌈🌈🌈

- “just like a folk song, our love will be passed on” = different from the first bridge but deliberate again. Their story, aka Taylor liking girls from a young age will always be talked about, AND their love lives in this song she wrote.

- “picture me in the weeds before I learned civility” = again, given the homophobic attitude, ‘civility’ and straightness should be read as the same so Taylor is saying when she was a child, free in the grass and herself, she wants to always be. 

- “I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted” = she wasn’t muzzled as a child, she could say and be who she wanted, screaming it aloud for everyone to hear but that changed as she grew up. 

- “pack your dolls and a sweater, we’ll move to India forever” = ‘dolls’ again would imply it’s two girls running away together and India is this exocitc far off place to a child, a place where they can be together without anyone knowing them or controlling them. 

August

- Karlie Kloss is born in August. Karlie Kloss posted yesterday about being a Leo (an August born). August belongs to Karlie Kloss. 🦁♌

- “rust on your door” = image of something well-worn, perhaps someone who’s been here too a few times before?

- “whispers of are you sure?” = obviously there is the sexual connotation, but beyond that, what if it’s about Taylor and Karlie going public etc. 

- “never have I ever before” = see above but also the game ‘never have I ever’ evokes youthfulness and sounds almost like a reminder of a fun night with friends. 

- “I can see us lost in the memory” = implies they’re still together, losing themself in the memory together

- “I can see us twisted in bedsheets” = again, sexual imagery but also the intimacy of sharing a bed with the person you love after sex 

- “Like a bottle of wine” = matures the song a bit, the youthfulness of earlier is now more adult. 21 is America’s drinking age, 20s were mentioned early etc. 🍷

- “Cause you were never mine” = the whole of Taylor and Karlie’s relationship, Karlie has publically been dating Josh so she was never solely Taylor’s. 

- “Will you call when you’re back at school?” = Karlie attended NYU in 2015, the height of Kaylor. 

- “back when we were still changing for the better” = instead of changing to adapt/survive or keep up appearances. 

- “wanting was enough” = wanting Karlie without labels was enough, rather than having to go public etc. Many have said for a long time that Karlie and Taylor fought about coming out or not. 

- “cancel plans in case you would call” = sounds like a very love-sick Taylor Swift thing to do. Also waiting on a lover’s call when they constantly are travelling like both Karlie and Taylor do makes sense. ☎️

- “so much for summer love” = cruel summer echo? Summer 2015 was again, peak Kaylor so this could be a specific reference to that period

- “Do you remember? Remember when I pulled up and said ‘get in the car’” another specific reference, comes up again later in Betty, clearly is something personal. 

- “Back when I was still living for the hope of it all” = back as in the past when everything was happening, hope of it all being the hope they’d still end up together. 

TO SUM UP PART 1:

BENEATH ALL FICTION OR MYTH IS FACT & FEELING. Taylor is no longer hiding. Yes, some of these songs are about stories and people not her but there is so much of herself and her own story layered in too. PAY ATTENTION!!! Obviously, these are just my opinions, I’m not Taylor so I cannot know exactly what these songs are about but I think, after years of analyzing her music, these images/themes and deliberate word choice are well-versed in this part of the fandom. It is entirely possible this is the beginning of Taylor’s full, public coming out journey. 

I’ll be back with Part 2 tomorrow.  Stay Tuned!

[queenaeducan]

I posted 2,093 times in 2021

53 posts created (3%)

2040 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 38.5 posts.

I added 763 tags in 2021

#dragon age - 311 posts

#cats - 95 posts

#mass effect - 86 posts

#solas - 64 posts

#tes - 46 posts

#long post - 36 posts

#lord of the rings - 35 posts

#tas talks - 33 posts

#star trek - 30 posts

#signal boost - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#she cuddled with more way more last night. was it a birthday treat? or bc its getting cool at night? or... does she fear replacement...

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Six Sentence Sunday!

Here’s the modern Thedas fic I’ve been working on b/c everything else is for the zine/calendar. A small snippet of texts that I haven’t figured out how I want to format yet.

Also ty to the ppl who tag me! I don’t have new stuff to share every week b/c work sometimes be like that, but I appreciate the tags!

[Ian]: Feeling cute. Shame you’re not here to enjoy it.

[Solas]: I can admire it from here.

[Ian]: Not the way I want you to. ;)

A breath of laughter parts his lips, which he covers with one hand to disguise his smile. That premise in mind, his mind is drawn to different details: how the strap drapes part-ways off his shoulder, how the sheer fabric allows an impression of what lies beneath, how high the hem falls across the thigh. It’s easy to imagine how he might ‘enjoy it,’ as Ian puts it. His thumb drags across his phone, curiosity piqued.

[Solas]: What did you have in mind?

17 notes • Posted 2021-10-17 15:02:50 GMT

#4

My, uh, actual current personal WIP is nsfw and I don’t really want to post it on this blog atm. The finished work will likely be linked to AO3 with only SFW stuff here. My focus rn besides that is the Solamancy zine or the DA Calendar fics which I can’t share much of, so I hope you’ll accept meta writing instead!

This is a piece from my WIP that takes a look at spirits throughout the DA series and reinterprets their actions so they’re not just conveniently non-human cannon fodder, beginning with Mouse (the first spirit/demon any Warden possibly meet). This section is about the rage demons we fight in Origins in the Denerim Alienage’s orphanage.

Rage

We meet many Rage demons in Origins and throughout the series, but the spirit I’m referring to are the ones we meet in the Alienage’s orphanage. The recent site of a massacre, the orphanage is now home to a spirit of Rage who attacks those who enter. Rage, I thought, was a curious choice, when Despair and Terror exist. Although the fact that they probably didn’t want to make a new spirit model for this one sidequest would probably explain it on a development level, but then I wondered— whose rage?

The spirits don’t seem to embody the rage of the people who massacred the orphanage, or even the rage of the victims. They tell the Warden and Ser Otto that they “do not belong here” and one is furious that the party has killed “my brood.” I think the presence of the spirits here is indicative of how helpful or benevolent spirits can be twisted by the horrors of our world, that they were drawn by the misery of what happened at the orphanage and upon witnessing it they became enraged. They are ultimately protecting nothing, just an empty building that’s probably best torn down or cleared out, or whatever the elves of Denerim’s Alienage decide they need to properly mourn. Yet as we walk through the building the screams of children still play around us, it’s still happening for them. In the final encounter of the quest, the Rage demon targets and kills Ser Otto (assuming those mabari you encounter like two minutes in don’t get him first) out of your entire party. It makes sense, he is representative of the human justice that allows horrors like this, and what’s more— how many orphans were taken from the orphanage’s midst by people wearing armour just like his, never to return?

The rage demons had every right to be angry, even if their anger manifested in a harmful way. The real tragedy is that, outside of Denerim’s Alienage, most people weren’t.​

17 notes • Posted 2021-10-27 14:52:00 GMT

#3

Happy Sunday! Here’s the first few lines from my fic that’s kind of a sequel to @/theshirallen​’s fic With No Heart to Recall. It begins with Solas plotting a little trip to Crestwood with Ian. Don’t let this very gentle slice-of-life opening fool you it’s gonna get angsty in here. No one is gonna have a good time.

“What are you working on?” Thora asks her question quietly and close to his ear, hanging over the couch with her feet suspended in the air to get a look at what Solas holds in his lap. “Is that a map?” As he jerks away she slides onto the couch cushions, a little laugh upon her lips.

“Yes.” An annoyed flap of his papers punctuates his answer, straightening the drooping corners so they point towards the ceiling. “Though I don’t see what business it is of yours.”

“It is my castle,” she says, “and my room.” In that respect, she’s correct, though it’s difficult to forget the fact. The entire room is sized for her, from the library shelves to the very couch he’s curled on. Should he choose to stretch his legs he would find his knees jutting a foot off the floor, angled awkwardly toward the ceiling. Thankfully, he is comfortable enough as is.​

21 notes • Posted 2021-11-07 15:20:06 GMT

#2

We Tame the Sky

Pairing: f!Cadash / Josephine Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No warnings apply

In the quiet before the final approach on Haven, Thora Cadash and Josephine share a moment together in Skyhold's chapel.

Written as a fill for Spronky as a part of the @/sapphic-solstice event!

Read on AO3 here.

Sitting in the quiet of Skyhold’s chapel, Thora begins to see why her ancestors favoured the stone so. Being born Casteless she had always been as likely to choose a sun-soaked field over a well-lit cave, but tonight is different. Outside, the light breaks in a sickly green over the Frostbacks, scattering across the sky like a spotlight through the pieces of a shattered mirror. Thunder rumbles without storm clouds, booming with Corypheus’ ambition. Beneath the stone chapel ceiling it's not easy to forget the chaos that threatens to tear their world asunder, but peace seems a little more feasible here. The harsh light of a Breach wrenched open is blocked out by a heavy wooden door, and she sits awash in the scent of incense, beneath the watchful eyes of the Maker’s chosen.

She kneels before Andraste, her hopes and dreams clasped between her palms as they come together in prayer. She sings a prayer for those who will ride beside her into the abyss, perhaps never to return, a prayer for those she’s leaving behind, with nothing but belief to buoy their hopes for the future.

And one for herself, should Andraste have any grace to spare.

“You have walked beside me Down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others Have forsaken me.”

The prayer for the despairing comes too easily to her, the hymn had played a companion to her countless times through the years, but never had its words rang more clearly in her heart than tonight, as she steeled herself to face Corypheus one last time. She can’t pretend she knows what was in Andraste’s heart as she stood before the gates of Minrathous with her army at her flank, but this is likely the closest she’ll ever come to knowing.

“I am not alone. Even As I stumble on the path With my eyes closed, yet I see The Light is here.”

Though the chant evokes the Maker’s light, it’s no longer His face she sees as she closes her eyes, lips pressed against her thumbs in reverent devotion. Before Him come the faces of her friends, the brilliance of Cassandra’s sword as it cleaves through their foes, the glow of Solas’ staff as he cuts through the Deep Roads’ dark, the soft gleam in Josephine’s eye as a smile spreads her lips. Heavensent or no, those were the lights that had gotten her this far.

“There you are.” The sound of Josephine’s voice startles Thora from her prayer, with thoughts of her so near at hand she’d almost thought she imagined it. She looks over in time to see her step lightly through the door, her slippers just a whisper against the floor. “I had thought to find you in the garden, but…” The distant roar of the Breach completes her thought in fewer words. She’d often take her evening prayers beneath the bows of the maple trees, preferring their sanctuary to the small chapel that harboured most of Skyhold’s believers, but she’ll find no peace under them tonight— nor any night until her job is done. Josephine’s lips turn in a smile, a practised expression Thora had seen persist in the darkest circumstances, but it strains now. “Well, what matters is I’ve found you now.”

Thora’s words stick in her throat, all she can do as she rises to her feet is stare dumbly. There always seems too much to say between herself and Josephine to know where to begin.

Thankfully, Josephine always seems to find a way. “I suppose it won’t be long now,” she says.

“It’s just a matter of time.” She wishes they could find anything other than the oncoming fight to talk about, but it may be asking too much of them both. Corypheus is difficult to ignore even at the best of times, now that the ruins of Haven tremble at their doorstep every thought is stained by his influence. “I thought I’d see if I could get a few words in before we set out.”

This time the smile that graces Josephine’s features sneaks up on her, chased by a short breath of laughter. “If it’s good fortune you’re after, I may have just the thing.” Before Thora can so much as ask, the ambassador produces a flag of cloth from the folds of her doublet, flourishing it with a street magician’s flair. “Do you recognise it? The pattern, that is.” She proffers it forward, supporting the fabric with the tips of her fingers so the image lays flat before her eyes. She doesn’t need long to know what she’s looking at (she’d spent far too many hours looking for the blasted thing to ever mistake it): a proud ship sails across an unruly sea, the bow cutting through choppy waves and rendering them calm.

“Your family crest…”

“Soon its likeness will fly above a fleet of ships that will rival the great houses of Antiva, but this one is yours.”

“Mine?”

She nods. “My favour may not have the same weight as Andraste, but if it can accompany you where I cannot, then I give it gladly. May I see your hand?”

Thora immediately extends her right arm, then draws it back just as quick. “No, wait,” she says, offering forward the other, fingers closed into a loose fist to contain the faint buzz of the Anchor. “This one could probably use it more.”

“Naturally.” She winds the handkerchief up so it resembles a bracelet, coiling the fabric up like a rope and measuring it against her slender wrist before she tries Thora’s. Curled ringlets coil around her ears as she leans over to tie it properly, and in all the chaos of Corypheus’ attack she’s still found the presence of mind to perfume herself. Thora discovers this herself as she breathes slowly, and tries to forget her daydreams. “I’m afraid I’ve little else to offer but my hopes, Corypheus has proven most resilient to my charms.” The fabric slides across the smooth finish of her gauntlets without purchase, and then again, each time reset by the patient hand of Lady Montilyet. At last it catches against the details, winding around dwarven runes that spell the Cadash house words in an alphabet that rarely saw sunlight. The sight of her words and the Montilyet crest winding together around her wrist moves something in her. It creeps up her ribs and into her throat and blossoms. Not for the first time since they’ve met, Thora finds herself grateful you can’t choke to death on love.

She ties the knot once, twice, and Thora thinks she sees some reluctance as they fall away to her sides. “May you tame the sky as we tamed the sea, Lady Cadash,” she says in a trembling voice, her words straining against her fears.

“Josephine, I—” Brown eyes rimmed with tears look up at Josephine. The sharp end to her sentence is a keen reminder that while she can’t choke to death on love, she sure can still choke. “I’m…” What she wants to say more than anything feels selfish to say, now more than ever, when her death is so near at hand. What good would it do her to die with no regrets, if it meant sentencing Josephine to a lifetime of them? She grinds her hopes beneath her heel, and tells herself that, should she live to see morning, there’ll be nothing stopping her anymore.

Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie that can get her through this moment.

“Thank you,” she manages after a moment of tear-induced silence. “I’m... I don’t- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She folds her hands around Thora’s, cupping the armour-clad knuckles between tender fingers, like her glove was wrought with silk and not steel. “Just come back to us, please.”

Her heart constricts with the burden of a promise she may not keep. The sky calls her name, spelling her doom in the air with the ruins of her first failure, but Josephine’s words have worked miracles for her before. “I’ll do my best, I always— oh.” A distant horn blows, signalling her departure, and their farewell. Eyes laced with tears, she turns to the statue of Andraste as though she were a friend forgotten in the tide of the conversation. “I didn’t get to finish.”

The threads of Josephine’s smile start to unravel, grief twisting the manners from the corners of her lips. “I will finish it for you, Inquisitor,” she says in a voice laid thick with tears she wants desperately to dab from her cheeks. “Go with Andraste’s grace.” Her hands tremble as they release Thora’s, only finding stability as they lace together in prayer. As her footsteps echo with her retreat, she hears Josephine’s voice lift in song, words burdened with her weeping but warm with the Maker’s light.

See the full post

28 notes • Posted 2021-07-06 15:50:56 GMT

#1

It is a disquieting revelation, knowing his worth does not lessen the more he is known; all the rage and misery Ian witnessed in him these past few weeks hasn’t lessened the love in his eyes. (x)

I had the pleasure of commissioning @/artist-rat (commission info here!) to illustrate a scene from a Solavellan fic I wrote earlier this year. They did such a great job bringing the moment to life and I’m still screaming!! Look at them!!! They’ve in love and the world is a mess!!!!

Ian (he/him) is created and written by @/theshirallen. He’s non-binary so please don’t tag this m!solavellan or f!solavellan please and thank you!

144 notes • Posted 2021-11-28 02:09:43 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[queenofallwitches]

an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

David's actual return was... bad. What would a good return have been like? As a kid I always expected someone to find him and for him to end up in Yeerk custody and that'd be how they found out who the Animorphs were. I do kind of like Crayak using him but just to get to Rachel, because it'd be a bad idea to give any power to David.

I really like that idea of David finding a way to tell the yeerks about the Animorphs!  It even fits with the existing structure of the series – he returns in #48, and the yeerks find the Animorphs in #49.  

My own suggestion for how to make The Return better?

Make it not a dream.

I have a peeve about dream plots, I’ll acknowledge.  I think that at best they can be an opportunity for an eensy bit of characterization, a heapton of setting, and exactly zero plot.  That said, there are also many scenes in #48 that are potentially scary/cool/interesting, if they just happened for realsies.

If the events of #48 really did occur in canon, then:

Jake and Rachel do what they’ve been threatening since #7, and have an argument that escalates into physical violence.

This helps set up Rachel going full Blood Knight in #52, and Jake doing the same in #53, because these two keep each other ethical-ish any time they butt heads over morality and are forced to defend their decisions to each other.  If the Berensons’ bond has fractured to the point where they’re brawling in morph, then each of them is lacking the other as a check on their behavior.

Marco and Ax’s intelligence analysis determines that (even though they didn’t know it at the time) the events of #46 were the final straw for the yeerks’ secrecy.

The conversation between Rachel and Marco at Ax’s scoop helps sell the idea that the Animorphs’ world is slowly coming to an end.  Too many humans witnessed too much on that aircraft carrier, too many hosts have escaped the yeerks, and the invasion is becoming an open secret.  It’s ominous as hell, because the Animorphs have an inkling that the start of open war will be the end of their ability to live at home with their families, and it’s highly effective at setting up the events of the next several books.

Rachel kicks the elephant in the room by pointing out that Marco and Ax get away with bloodthirstiness while she doesn’t, because gender.

Rachel basically comes out and tells Tobias that Marco is every bit as ruthless as she is, and that Ax is just as quick to kill.  And she’s not wrong.  But Marco and Ax kill coldly, they kill rationally, they kill from a distance, and they kill as boys.  Rachel kills quickly, she kills angrily, she kills up close, and she kills as a girl.  Therefore, their friends don’t tell Marco he’s “worrying” (#22), “terrifying” (#35), “out of control” (#37) or “psycho” (#52).  Their friends don’t get into screaming matches with Ax or act frightened of him.

But Rachel’s a girl, and nice girls are supposed to control their emotions.  Nice girls aren’t supposed to enjoy growing into big strong creatures who can rip their enemies apart.  Nice girls should never be aggressive, and if they are it’s probably because they’re too emotional.  It’s a good point, one I wish came up more often.

Crayak’s deal with Rachel comes due in a way that none of the Animorphs could’ve predicted.

If everything with David is canon, then there’s a fascinating follow-up to Crayak’s offer in #27.  Crayak isn’t just drawing on Rachel’s violent side, he’s drawing on her Achilles heel: that David gets under her skin.  It’s a great wrap-up to the Crayak plot.  It shows that Rachel’s the Ellimist’s favorite not because of her natural-born gifts, but because of her choices.  She’s capable of ruthless violence, but whenever possible she chooses compassion.

There’s also the fascinating ambiguity in the line “kill your cousin,” and the fact that Rachel interprets it to mean Jake — and of course she’s about to kill Tom.  Dozens of fandalites have expended gallons of ink on the question of how to interpret that motif, but it has far more impact if Rachel truly is talking to Crayak in this book as well as in #27.

Cassie’s forced to confront what they did to David.

Leaving aside Rachel for a second, there’s a ton of potential for how this book could change Cassie going into her Big Character Moment in #50.  She never feels the level of guilt over David that Rachel and even Jake do, I think partially because Cassie’s morality isn’t nearly as human-centric and therefore not nearly as horrified by the idea of making a human into a rat.  But if Cassie’s confronted with the reality that she designed and executed a plan that ended with a kid her age trapped in what he considers to be a fate worse than death, then the implications for her character development are almost infinite.

Rachel embraces an unpretty female power fantasy.

I love mecha-Rachel.  Mecha-Rachel is big and ugly and strong, capable of ripping her enemies limb from limb while still being fundamentally Rachel-shaped.

Rachel, maybe more than any other Animorph, has to put up with society telling her that her body is wrong.  Everyone from Marco to her gymnastics coach feels entitled to tell her that she’s too big and tall for a girl.  Everyone from random guys on the street to her own classmates feels entitled to sexualize her body because she’s female.  Rachel doesn’t feel mismatched or dysmorphic the way Tobias does, but she is aware of (and fed up by) the expectations of what her body “should” be.

Mecha-Rachel is unfeminine to the extent that she takes up space — a lot of space — and takes no prisoners.  But she’s still got the aspects of femininity that Rachel loves, from flowing hair to long nails.  Mecha-Rachel is exactly the kind of shape that makes morphing so fun to fantasize about, especially for little girls.

Rachel kills David.

This is maybe what I want most out of #48: for Rachel to kill David for real.  Because, as she tells Cassie, somebody has to do it.  Because she’s strong enough.  Because she’s compassionate enough.  Because she understands David.  Because she understands herself.  Because she’s been a rat, and she’s been just like David in lots of less literal ways.  Because she doesn’t know what the right answer is, so she’s willing to respect David’s wishes for lack of a better way out.

Visser Three gets kidnapped and thrown out of a pokéball and beheaded and then gets better and yet also mysteriously thinks that it’s not suspicious at all one of the andalite bandits looks like a giant human, oh and also there are sentient rats who speak their own rat language.

On second thought, we can leave out all of this nonsense.

Honestly, 99% of my frustration with this book comes from the fact that I can’t tell how seriously to take it.  If it’s just a dream, then a fat lot of nothing happens in the war between #47 and #49, and Rachel’s last book before her death also contains a fat lot of nothing.  If it was something that happened in canon, then I think I’d really enjoy everything in this book except the (non-David) sentient rats.  With only a few tweaks — the first scene taking place in California not D.C., the fight with Visser Three getting cut, the sentient rats getting swapped for more human minions — it works pretty well as a real Animorphs plot, one that helps smooth the transition in both tactics and morality that occurs in the last ~10 books.  This book has some genuinely cool stuff in it, and I want that cool stuff to be part of the real events of the story.

[messengerhermes]

Is someone flirting with you, or are they just speaking your love language?

When we're talking about relationships, consent, and intimacy, I think we get into a reduction space where we imagine consent to be this clear flow chart of "Yes I am into you, please proceed to flirt level B." Now, I am thrilled that our models for consent have expanded in recent years, and the conversation of "we all need to learn how to explicitly ask if someone wants this, whatever *this* is, with us." This is deeply important because, frankly consent has been something we have been taught to intuit through a series of coded gestures, phrases, and contexts. ie lingering eye contact here, an invitation to stay for coffee, someone finding an excuse to seek out our company--these are all examples of things books, movies, and a lack of explicit relationship education as part of sex-ed have taught us are cues that someone is sexually or romantically into us. This highlights a really big problem of how our courtship behaviors (because that's what they are) lead us into spaces where boundaries are violated and people are hurt: All of those scenarios could mean like 50 different things, and it just depends on how the individuals involved read them. A problem about all of these little showboating courtship behaviors though is that another part of social rules says that if you explicitly ask someone if they are into you, you've gone off-script. There are a lot of social consequences to taking the deeply vulnerable leap of checking in with someone about what's happening between y'all. Those consequences often vary by which gender bucket you were dropped into, and those gender buckets (along with a host of other factors) can influence all the awkward and less than useful loopy loops you may go through to avoid experiencing the vulnerability of straight-up asking "hey are you into me?" Which is where we get into the shitty shitty land of "Mixed Signals." And now, I come back to my original point: Is someone flirting with you, or are they just speaking your love language? In putting my money where my mouth around vulnerability, I'll use myself as an example, both as the person who has had my actions interpreted as flirting, and as the one who has had the "are they flirting??? They flirt?? With Me???" vortex suck me up. So first scenario: I am interpreted as flirting. True facts, I am enthusiastic as a human. I believe wholeheartedly in sharing compliments freely and easily, whenever something about a person strikes my fancy. If I think someone is a cool human who I enjoy hanging out with I am loud about wanting their thoughts and affirming them. I'm an easy laugher, and tend to do the whole Labrador retriever, "Friend? Frieeeeendddd!!!!" thing when I meet a fun new human. In the before times, when touching was not a bio hazard, I was an arm slapper, shoulder puncher "you scamp" type. For some people, all those behaviors may hit the following buttons:

casual touch

quality time in the form of listening

special attention/eye contact

praise and words of affirmation

All without me making the conscious choice to flirt even once. Now, second scenario: I am interpreting someone as flirting. Let me tell y'all, I am a sucker for fucking compliments around my brain things. Laugh at my jokes. Tell me you like my writing. Gush over my artwork. Call something I did clever, tell me you think I'm bold/cool/kind/sweet/what have you. I lap that shit up like it's the first water I've had in days. Especially if the other person has done something that makes me into their brain? If I like their writing, if I've witnessed them go off about social issues and we share ideas, if I admire their skills with whatever craft they have a hand in. Hello, goodbye, I am dead, gone, do with me what you will. For me those behaviors hit the following buttons:

Words of affirmation

Special attention

Indication of listening

Praise for my achievements

But the thing is, people do that kind of shit all the time. That doesn't mean their flirting with me, not matting how many butterflies explode in my stomach.

But we have been taught this false premise: If I think someone is flirting with me, then they must be.

Instead of: People's actions may feel like they're flirting with me, but that tells me about what gets *my* motor running, not whether they're trying to turn my ignition.

But also: You feeling flirted with does not oblige the person giving you those feels to actually have been flirting with you or satisfy whatever want arises in you from that attention. Your twittterpation is not other people's responsibility.

And on top of this false premise, we're taught that dating is a game of pursuit. Some of us chase and others are chased, but no one is to explicitly name that we are playing that game until miraculously someone is "caught." This sets up a culture where getting consent is hard, because we aren't meant to check in with one another. It's considered bad/uncool/shameful to clue another person into the fact that "hey, I really like how you're acting with me right now, I feel flirted with, what are you feeling towards me?" without assuming that the other person is flirting with us or owes us anything. And that sucks.

My driving point in this very long post is this, here's your TLDR: Culturally, we have set up a social world where it is difficult to explicitly ask people if they are into us romantically/sexually, while setting up the false idea that flirting is universal. We are also taught that if we feel flirted with, then that must be what's happening and the person flirting with us somehow now owes us some kind of attention or validation in line with our imagined outcome. Many of us are also taught that if someone thinks we are flirting, whether we mean to be or not, that we then owe them something. But we do not.

Moving towards consent culture means building capacity to recognize that getting good bubbly feelings from someone hitting our flirt buttons is a signal for us to check in about where they are coming from, not a signal to jump into the chasing game of pursued and pursuer many of us have been taught.

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

In which we overkill a bird

Dave: Get a towel or something!

Dave: Don’t panic and carry a towel

What in the jesus cartwheeling fuck is this?

Is that a pimp person-sized puppet hanging in front of the door?

Why

You head out to get a TOWEL from the bathroom across the hall. You glance at one of the many RADICAL PUPPETS in your BRO'S collection and nod in approval.

The fact that Dave sees them as awesome is disturbing

Also a contrast to how both John and Rose clearly hate the respective hobbies of their parents.

Is there anything not awesome about your BRO? No, you think not.

Meanwhile Dave here is learning wrong things from his bro about life

.......

I’m not even gonna ask

You enter the bathroom. There's a damp towel on the floor you can probably use for this crisis. You stop to pay a little respect to one of your BRO'S boys up there. Hey lil' man. How's it hangin'?

NO DON’T BRING ATTENTION TO IT YOU FUCK

Why is it in the shower?

Dave: Captchalogue damp towel.

God I had forgoten how incredibly awful his captalogue thing was. I still think Rose’s one is probably worse.

You take the DAMP TOWEL (2+1+2+2 + 2+1+2+1+2 = 15 % 10 = 5), expelling the BOX (2+1+2 = 5 % 10 = 5).

You have to be quite a wordsmith to use this one though.

Dave: Search the bathroom for something slightly less damp.

Nah, you just decide to wring this towel out into the toilet to make it less damp. It is now just a TOWEL (2+1+2+1+2 = 8 % 10 = 8).

Or you could also do this kind of bullshit.

That works too.

Dave: Take towel.

You take the TOWEL, and grab the BOX again while you're at it.

I like when things work out, instead of spending 50 pages wrestling with our inventory : )

SO now we have the blue box, the katana and the towel. Nice.

I can still see that thing on the corner of the image why

Dave: Clean up the juice.

PROGRESS : D

You CLEAN (2+2+1+1+2 = 8) up the juice with the TOWEL and hang the damp BETA ENVELOPES on your line to dry off.

Really clever use of CLEAN (8) with TOWEL (8). When this one works it is awesome

...

no

nonononono

FAN, DON’T YOU DARE FUCK US OVER!!!

You were the tool for our decisive victory in an adventure past, our giding light! Don’t betray us now! Why are you working so well now of all times??

In the breeze of the FAN, the betas jostle near the OPEN WINDOW. This arrangement is a little disconcerting. If they fell out, it sure would be a stupid way to lose them.

....They are totally gonna fall

Dave: Turn off the fan.

....really???

Everything ....worked out well??

The crisis is easily averted. You can't imagine it will ever resurface later in any way, shape, or form. That beta is as good as yours, forever.

What is gonna happen to make us lose it? Because I can just smell some bullshit coming. No way doing things in a simple way doesn’t have terrible consequences

==>

You should probably go pester Egbert again. You wonder if he found the beta yet. You also might chat about your respective SYLLADICES and FETCH MODI, if the topic happens to come up. You wonder if he is anywhere near as smooth with his sylladex as you are. Probably not. It's probably not even humanly possi...

Oh god it cut off

What the fuck is going to happen when I click the next page, I am afraid.

...

WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK

A CROW????

I give up ever predicting anything in this comic.

This is a dangerously absurd level of shenanigans, right now on display. What in the feathery fuck is a crow doing near your apartment window, where the fuck do you live, Dave??

Suddenly a RAMBUNCTIOUS CROW flies in the open window and snatches the beta, possibly to make a nest with, or maybe just for the sake of being a brainless feathery asshole. You yell at the bird.

This just sounds like a pissed off DM screwing your player character.

It’s kinda amazing.

I think I said before that these kids made dumb choices but I feel like even if you made all the right choices, the universe would just do some bullshit like this to keep you on your toes. A crow grabbed the betas, your argument is invalid.

OH FUCK THIS WAS COOL AS HELL

Weaponized words, yeeted swords

yes

Holy shit we just murderized the fuck out of that bird, with extreme prejudice. Impaled with a motherfucking katana.

...And he just fell out of the window

.....well shit. At least we lost it in a waaay cooler way than I was expecting.

You accidentally launch your NINJA SWORD. Everything goes flying out the window, dead bird and all.

Someone down there is going to find a bird with a weaboo anime sword running throw its chest, and they are going to be very very confused.

==>

okay that is adorable

No one can ever know about this.

You are precious, you cool nerd.

something tells me that your bro would approve of this. If someone told me that the way they lost their sword was by impaling a fucking crow I would lose my fucking mind

Dave: Look out window.

What the fuck I was thinking it was a simple image and then merlin the fucking sorcerer jumpscared me.

Does this mean we are going back to Rose now? It seems like a good point to stop then.

....what even happened today? We murdered a crow, lost a copy, and now I have a petrified wizard that looks high as a kite in front of me

I love this comic so much

[theroyalmile]

No Returns, No Exchanges

Disclaimer: I have debated for quite a while whether or not I should post this blog.  Social media is such a curated space for joy and happiness, it can feel oppressive at times.  There is so much life-changing positivity, from engagements to new jobs; and don’t get me wrong, that happiness is great to see.  But on the other hand, all of that positivity makes me feel like sharing any kind of negative information is attention-seeking and an immense overshare.  So let’s ask ourselves why I feel that way.  Why is happiness celebrated while the sad, sometimes harsh realities of life are thought to be oversharing?  More specifically, why do we feel like life-changing news can only be shared when it doesn’t make other people uncomfortable?  Our expressions of pain should not be regulated by the comfort levels of the people who surround us.  There comes a time when not sharing something begins to feel like hiding something, and hiding something turns to shame.  That is a feeling that I refuse to welcome into my life right now.  So here we go. 

It has been a while since I posted anything… a really long while.  It has been rare, these past few years, that I have even felt I had anything much to say let alone write anything, mostly because my life has been fairly normal, fairly unextraordinary, and I am rather blessed to be saying that during such a difficult time for so many. The few moments where I have felt like I had something to say have been fleeting, and after a good 2am word vomit on paper, I have filed these musings under “not to be seen by the light of day” which is probably for the best.

 Sometimes in the past I would find myself wishing I had something interesting going on in my life, something worthy of commentary… I don’t know, I was thinking like a cool hobby, an interesting skill, a kick-ass career, or a run in with Tom Hardy like I’d always dreamed of… something.  

 Well, to whoever is in charge, this is not what I meant, and I would like to request a refund. 

 Because as its final parting kick in the ass 2020 decided to gift me with breast cancer.  This isn’t a bad punch line, it’s just the truth.Let me give you a second to process that one.  I certainly needed a few.

 The thing is, a little itty bitty 3-centimeter tumor- that’s not something I can give back, as much as I might want to.  It’s not a too-large sweater you can return with a gift receipt, and it’s not a bad haircut you can complain about and get your money back (though it certainly will include one in a week or so!)

 A lot of you already know this story and frankly it’s not one I can tell with much finesse or humor, so I will keep it brief.  It was a dark and stormy 6pm when I found a lump in my breast in the shower back in November.  My initial thought was “you’re a crazy lady and a hypochondriac, let’s give it a few weeks since this is probably nothing.”   A few weeks, when my imaginary lump seemed to not actually be imaginary, I figured okay, it’s time to see my doctor, it’s probably nothing but we need to make sure.  I was in fact so unconcerned about it that I didn’t even see my regular doctor. I figured I just needed a medical professional to feel me up and let me know what to do next.  I didn’t even bother mentioning it to my parents. (For context of my laissez-faire, when I was 14 I found a lump in my breast that turned out, after little fanfare, to be a cyst which was unceremoniously drained on a cold metal table by a male doctor in a somewhat traumatizing but ultimately benign event.  That’s a longer story for later). 

 Cue a physical exam, confirming I was not crazy and there was a lump, but it was probably nothing; an utltrasound, confirming the lump was a shape that they did not like, but it was probably nothing; and an ultrasound guided biopsy, in which the probably nothing was sampled.  The week between Christmas and New Year’s was spent impatiently waiting for the news, increasingly feeling that my probably nothing was maybe, actually something.

 On December 28 around lunch time I received a phone call in the middle of the work day from the radiologist, who while very nice, was someone I had only met once while she shot a needle in and out of my boob.  She asked me how I was doing and then told me my test results were in.  “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news,” she said.

 And believe it or fucking not my immediate thought was “It’s not good news… it’s great news!” My brain supplied this as if on autopilot like some kind of 90s game show host, knowing fully well that I would not be so lucky because we are not living in a Brooklyn 99 episode.  It’s weird where your brain goes under duress.

 It was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I have ever had, wherein I found myself trying to reassure a complete stranger that I was okay and I’m pretty sure I even said, “it is what it is.”  I was told a breast surgeon and oncologist from my provider network would be in contact and the call ended. Ultimately, I was diagnosed with Stage 1B Triple Negative Invasive Ductal and Lobular Carcinoma.  No returns, no exchanges.

 I am two months into my diagnosis, and 1/8 of my way through chemotherapy, the first part of a three series treatment (to be followed by surgery and then likely radiation.)  This Friday, after my second chemotherapy treatment, I will begin to lose my hair.  Anyone who knows me at all knows that the hair loss will be a pill likely far harder for me to swallow than the chemo itself.  And while the look may have worked for Demi Moore in GI Jane, I do not have her bone structure, nor her body.  I anticipate I will look more like the yellow peanut M&M, which while obviously the best M&M of the bunch, I think we can all agree is not a cute look for me.

 I do not say this to be melodramatic, I just say this because I am cynical and pragmatic by nature: I am not particularly surprised that I have cancer.  And this is for several reasons, some of which probably deserve a longer blog later.  To put it simply, I have been surrounded by cancer, both by choice and by cruel fate and happenstance, my entire life. 

 Cruel Fate and Happenstance: Having several relatives who have gone through cancer, and a mother with a BRCA 1 genetic mutation (which I had a 50% chance of inheriting, and in fact did) I always figured it would eventually happen to me.  The odds this condition dealt me? “About 13% of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, 55%–72% of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 variant… will develop breast cancer by 70–80 years of age.”  That 55-72% is the kind of percentage you want winning the lottery, but the lottery this most certainly is not, and that much I understood. So, I always figured something like this would probably happen.  Did I think I would be 28? No. But I figure that just makes me an overachiever. 

 Choice: I volunteered at a cancer support non-profit from the time I was 12 to the time I was 22, and I wrote my college senior thesis in anthropology on women with ovarian cancer, the cancer that killed my aunt Lizzy when I was 4 years old.  I have likely read more books on cancer than your average newly diagnosed person, which I find to be both a blessing and a curse.  On one hand, I know some of what’s coming.  On the other hand, I know some of what’s coming.  Of course I don’t think any of these things gave me cancer but you might say I have been training for this my whole life.  I think this joke is far funnier than pretty much everyone I say it to except my immediate family, because the Tenney/Koss folk are very big on gallows humor, in which case this is hilarious.  Comedy is our family coping mechanism, and I am guilty of occasionally forgetting not everyone is wired like that.   

 So where are we right now? Taking it day by day.  Do I frequently find myself wallowing in self-pity these days? Sure.  But all the same I feel truly lucky.  This is a feeling I am trying to hold on to, because I think the other options might be truly unbearable.  Why? Well, I found this tumor.  I’m 28-years-old, which means I am hardly old enough for a regular mammogram and MRI.  My last yearly physical was a TeleHealth appointment (hence no actual physical) and I will be honest, I never made a habit of regularly checking myself like I should have.  But this tumor just presented itself casually during a shower.  Breast cancer, when caught early, is highly treatable and curable, and I am fairly confident, knock on wood, that is where this particular nightmare is headed.  The fact that it was caught early: pure luck. 

Another reason I feel lucky is for the most part, I feel like I actually have the stability to handle the oncoming struggle.  I have a large and wonderful support system, an incredible and supportive partner, a savings account with actual savings in it, and a job where I am cared about as a human.  If this had happened to me three years ago, almost none of these things would be true.  There will never be a good time to have cancer, but some times are apparently better than others.  Of course, the ongoing pandemic means I can’t have people go with me to chemo, or my wig fitting, or my surgery consultations, and alone a lot of this seems much more daunting and difficult than it might otherwise have been, but I am trying to make a habit of counting my blessings, and despite this terrible thing I’ve been given, my blessings are many.

 There isn’t a “right way” to have cancer, but I think there might be a “right way” for me.  I am a private person and I find sharing some of these details difficult and more than a little uncomfortable, but I am also intimately familiar with the healing nature of writing and comedy, so I am going to give it a shot.  

 And now that I think of it… the peanut M&M is going to make a really great Halloween costume. 

[twistedtummies2]

Ele-May-ntary - Number 18

Welcome to Ele-May-ntary! All throughout the month of May, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Portrayals of Sherlock Holmes in movies, television, radio, and video games! Last time, I discussed Christopher Plummer as Sherlock Holmes: one of the more prominent actors to tackle the role. Today, we’ll be talking about a somewhat lesser-known performer. Number 18 is…Ronald Howard.

No, not as in the guy who directed Jim Carrey’s Grinch. (Wouldn’t THAT be interesting…) Ronald Howard is an actor you probably know nothing about…which is fine, because beyond his performance as Sherlock Holmes, I don’t think I know much of anything about him, either. (Unless he’s been in some other shows/movies I’ve seen and just no recognized him in.) Howard played the character in the mid-1950s, in the first American television series based on the character and universe, simply titled “Sherlock Holmes.” The series wanted to present a take on the characters that was more faithful to Doyle’s work than the popular Basil Rathbone films of the late 30s and early-to-mid-40s…despite the fact that only four stories from the Conan Doyle canon were ever actually adapted even semi-faithfully out of almost 40 total episodes. Anyway, keeping this in mind, the first thing I want to say is that I admire the show’s decision to set things in period, during the Victorian era. This may not sound that strange at first, but prior to this, nearly every take on Holmes out there modernized things specifically for the sake of budgetary reasons: period pieces were often expensive, on many levels, so when a studio tackled Holmes and Watson, they usually had the pair solving capers in then-contemporary times. Despite having a shoestring budget, the 50s show bravely decided to bring Holmes back to his Victorian roots, a choice I greatly appreciate and respect. This creative decision is not the only one that I think is admirable: Howard’s portrayal of Holmes is equally delightful. Howard and the producers decided to portray a Holmes early on in his career; not so much a brooding, almost alien figure, but more a childish eccentric. Often distracted by his work, but not yet embittered by the ravages of time and great experience. He’s cocky, cool as a cucumber, dismissive, but also sincere and truly interested in seeking justice. He never lets much faze him, and more often than not, when he seems to be down and out, he’s already coming up with a strategy to get back on top. He’s the sort of Holmes who’ll blast bullet holes in his wall to celebrate the Queen’s birthday, but he’s also the sort of Holmes who will waive the fee for people who need help and can’t properly afford it. He’s the sort of Holmes who will become so excited when he comes across an escape artist cleverer than he is, that he’ll take the case just to figure out how the man keeps evading imprisonment…but he’s also the Holmes who takes things very seriously, and becomes darkly introspective, when going after a bizarre serial killer who leaves flowers at the scenes of his crimes. I also really love the relationship this Holmes has with both Watson and Lestrade. You really do feel the almost brotherly relationship he has with Watson, and the way they get along is really interesting. Howard Marion-Crawford’s Watson is arguably the first truly book-accurate take on the character ever put to the screen; while he can be very funny, he’s NOT a bungler nor a blowhard. He’ll get frustrated with Holmes, but he’ll also joke around with him; he’s highly protective of his detective associate, and admires him greatly, but when Holmes goes too far out of line, he’s quick to stamp his foot down. He’s even able to see past Holmes’ own facades at times, knowing when the master sleuth is lying or simply being evasive about matters. As for Lestrade, while he was often blustery and was NEVER right, and both Holmes and Watson frequently poked fun at him, he was not a clown. Holmes even admitted in one episode that he felt Lestrade would probably be able to solve a certain case on his own, and when Lestrade showed up with his tail between his legs in shame, he was sympathetic in how he helped the good inspector out. This is a very old but by no means dated interpretation. Admittedly, the other actors and performances are hit and miss, and the writing isn’t always top notch…and the fact the budget, again, wasn’t all that great does lead to some humorous moments of clear cheapness…but the way the main character and his closest allies are handled still manages to hold it above the water. This interpretation actually proved to be rather influential, as several other popular versions – most notably Disney’s “The Great Mouse Detective” – actually borrowed elements from the show, or used it to give them pointers along the way in their own renditions. A true “oldie but goldie,” both for Holmes and his world. The countdown continues tomorrow! Who will be next? Check in and find out!