#cause u know the violence is part of the reclaiming

[apricotforher]

it infuriates me that i had to be born w a bum eye. most ppl who got coloboma dont have any vision loss w it but i just had to be part of the ones that does have vision loss. and through the years its ruined my perfectly okay eye too so it cant see well now either. and its just gonna get worse forever!!!! and i got cataracts in it!!!!!!!!!!

[brainscrems]

Also, I think this quote from the first reply is an important point to address. “Feminine people in general face a lot of trauma that begets more trauma when it comes to this stuff. It's very common for more masculine people to assume I'm a bad person or trying to hurt someone when I either am ignorant of something or, much more often these days, am genuinely misunderstood.”

Sorry but like. Basically every transmasc I’ve ever talked to has issues w this exact thing. There seems to be this idea that if ur afab and transition towards masculinity u somehow. Lose the experiences you’ve had from existing in the role that society assigns to women? Like. I’ve heard someone say transmasc people can’t reclaim bitch, as if they haven’t experienced the gendered violence that would revolve around its use. It’s ridiculous to act as if transmascs aren’t capable of understanding what it’s like presenting as a woman BECAUSE THE VAST MAJORITY OF THEM HAVE AND KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THAT EXPERIENCE IN SOCIETY IS!!!!! THAT TRAUMA APPLIES THERE TOO!!! Suggesting otherwise is a fundamental disregard for the basic principles of intersectionality and refusal to recognize that “man” is not the only part of the experience of “trans man” and that these identities modify each other in complex ways that directly affect the ways in which they interact with society and the life experiences they’ve had. Suggesting people suddenly don’t understand the experience of living as a woman because one day they decided to no longer continue that existence is fucking ridiculous. There is this false picture painted of trans men that says they are, by transitioning, allowed to take on the role of man in society but it is a lie. Because the current hegemony will refuse to accept them in that role unless it is in a way that is convenient for denying them their rights. Just as we trans women will be treated as women when it serves the patriarchy to assign us the detriments of living in that role, institutions will still regard us as men for the purposes of making our lives more challenging and presenting us as threats to those “good christian white women and children”, so too are trans men only treated as men by our institutions when the role of man is the one that is best suited for causing harm to them. Yes, we should gender trans people as the gender they identify as, obviously. And, we must also recognize that the identity of being trans modifies the experience of gender such that the experience is not that of any one gender, but an amalgam of the roles and experiences prescribed to both men and women, as well as other experiences that belong to neither. All trans identities will have these complexities with roles and trying to assign trans men to the sociopolitical role of men under patriarchy is fundamentally flawed, as it never will be. Identifying as a man does not provide to you the role or privileges of men under patriarchy. The idea that it does furthers the oppression of not only trans men, but all trans and intersex people whose identities are attacked BECAUSE they break these roles in the first place.

"Transandrophobia isn't real"

A few years back my grandparents and I wanted to see a gynecologist for reasons, I was under 18, but every gynecologist that worked with minors refused to take trans boys. I haven't had a single bit of medical transition unless you count birth control. I have a vagina and boobs. Everything about my body is female but I was denied care because my hair was short and I had a deeper voice.

And when I tried explaining this to a transphobe they went "Well yeah they don't want mentally ill people"

My exclusion was based off of me being too masculine. Y'know, the thing that transandrophobes claim doesn't exist?

Transmascs go through the same shit transfems do. Transandrophobes need to stop shitting on us to feel superior and get a fucking life.

[zushimart]

Doesn't ei remember him tho? Because he didn't wipe his existence pre kabukimono, so she would still remember creating him then locking him away. Also I don't think she was ever aware of his existence past that anyways, because when he went to tenshukaku himself only yae saw him, while carrying the gold feather so why would she be aware of his involvement with the Raiden gokaden wheen they don't have the same authority he did. Yae def knew, but I think the shogun currently has the same knowledge as him as she did previous to the irminsul wipe

ya she knows she made a puppet but she doesnt know the aftermath of... doing that. doesnt know anything ab him, really, outside that he is a thing. doesnt know what "evils" he has committed, etc. he left niwa's descendant alive & told him to tell "her" (raiden) his name (kunikuzushi, country destroyer) as a threat, so i think narratively or logically it's implied that the gov (maybe not her since she was... away) knew he was alive (and wreaking havoc considering he killed entire families of swordsmiths and destroyed their lauded and historic arts, causing a sort of dark age in that area after years of prosperity) sure they might not have “clearance” to speak with anyone at tenshukaku for no reason, but after theyre All Dead and their livelihoods r Destroyed and theres one guy to tell the story, i think theyd listen to him? because the raiden gokaden became super influential in inazuma bc of their cultural importance. it would have made Waves. it DID make waves. considering the whole kazuha & ayato storyline. & im sure this was all communicated to her after yae and the mc bring her back from the plane of euthymia (because wouldnt yae explain who she gave the gnosis to And Also how scara is a pretty integral part in causing the civil war in her country that she comes back to?). so i guess if u want one to one "ei knew this because this" , i cant give u that, but i cant imagine she just didnt know anything about him or that yae didnt tell her anything about what was going on after the fact since he is like. kind of . a giant reason the entire country was as divided and fucked up as it was. in his attempt to reclaim his “birthright.” and i guess, narratively, the quote she gives u (i do not wish to assert control over him) is After all of this occurred. after he kills noteworthy sword smithing sects, distributes delusions, incites violence on both sides of a civil war, and then flees w the gnosis. so like , i guess my question would be why would she be commenting on him like that after he did all this if she didnt know what he did ? bc otherwise why would talking about him be pertinent at all? if she didn’t know? if that makes sense. at least thats how i think about it.

[brightymir]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫���� 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

cw: canon violence, language, manga spoilers

genre: angst

characters: eren, mikasa, armin, levi x gn!reader

a/n: a little something as the part 2 concludes. also, this is a confirmation that i, indeed, am unable to write anything happy for snk. thank you and i hope u enjoy this :) notes and rbs are appreciated!!

❀ eren jaeger

the first time he sees it, eren thinks it must have been a trick of his eye, an illusion made by his mind. he thought it must have been the fatigue catching up to him, the nightly terrors affecting him, the impact of the past months' events dawning on him. he convinces himself that it was just that, there was no reason to be irrational.

but how could something be so vivid?

how could you be so vivid?

how are you appearing from the corner of his eyes with that soft smile on your face? appearing in front of him like it was something you were meant to do? because it clearly wasn't.

dead people don't appear in front of someone.

especially you. he clearly saw you reduced to a pile of flesh and blood that day, reclaiming shiganshina. he saw your body lowered onto the ground as the makeshift coffin got covered by the soil. he knows the feeling of your name engraved on the tombstone by the number of times he ran his fingertips through it.

what more does he need to finally accept that you're no longer? that you're gone. no longer returning.

what do you need from him?

he's bothered enough by his past mistakes, and he keeps being bothered and attacked by the future he saw. so why do you need to add to that headache? why are you still bothering him?

do you enjoy tormenting him? seeing him miserable and pathetic? do you revel at the sight of his disheveled self and the lack of his self control? perhaps you were laughing at how much he resembled his pathetic excuse of a father, only, he was much worse.

but he thought you love him. so, if you love someone, why would you appear in front of them when you shouldn't be? why are you holding him back?

why do you caress him ever so gently at night? why do you hum that melody that he always fell asleep to whenever he was distressed? why do you talk to him at the most random times and encourage him all the time like you did when you were still alive?

and it's like, you were still there.

still with him and everyone else. still breathing and dedicating your heart for a cause. still traveling down the same path with him side by side.

it's like you never even left him in the first place. it's like he never saw your sunken eyes, pale skin, the gear that pierced your flesh, and the dried blood that stained your uniform.

it's like you were always there for him. because it was true, you never left his side until the day he passed. because you were always around, even though he never acknowledged your presence, though he always thought of you as a hallucination, you remained beside him.

oh, and nothing could compare to the bliss he had when he felt the familiar steel blade brush his neck.

and he ran to you with open arms. without a care in the world.

he was the boy who sought freedom, and he knew that he could finally be free with you.

in your arms as you two flew in the sky, limitless.

❀ mikasa ackerman

she knew you were real, she never doubted those images you showed her, not even once. she acknowledged your presence and never made any move to eject them or turn them down, because she was well aware that it was you. you looked pale, but she knew that it is you.

you’ve always been her ever since that day. 

and you never ceased to appear before her day by day. 

you appeared before her whenever you pleased, and she gladly took in your presence and admired your figure. and she knew she should not, oh well, there is nothing that could stop her anyway. 

but she reached a point where she wished you would stop. 

she acknowledged to you and your presence, your scent, and every little thing about you. but it did reach a point where she wish that it would just stop, she wish that you would hold your operations and just leave her on her own devices. because she can't be drunk on you, she can't be dependent on you.

what more does she have to do to make you stop? should she gouge out her eyes to stop herself from seeing you? or cut her ears to no longer make your voice audible? 

her headaches are bad enough that it prevents her from doing her everyday tasks without a problem, but you just had to make yourself seen and those little images of you from every corner of the room. you almost always push her to a brink of no return.

you love her, she loves you. you know her better than anyone else, you know that she’s not the strongest, so why do you keep tormenting her? 

whenever she finds you sitting next to your tombstone atop the hill beside the tree, she doesn't say anything and instead opts to sit beside you in silence. and whenever she catches you beside her daughter, humming a melody to calm the little child, she doesn't mind.

and it’s like, you were still there. 

still with her and the others, doing your work as a diplomat alongside armin. because, that job fits you, that was your rightful place.

if only you were still here. 

however, mikasa came to know that you're not going to stay for long, and you finally relented. you finally found it in yourself to let her go after nine years into your death. it brought tears to her eyes, and excruciating pain to her heart.

the next time you appeared was decades later, as she was rocking on her chair, her eyes drooping like the sun in the sky. 

she saw your mist figure, reaching a hand to her as she breath her last. 

oh, how wonderful. 

she can finally be herself again, no more a scout veteran, no more mikasa ackerman. 

just, mi casa. 

❀ armin arlert

the first time he sees you was during his attack on liberio, after all the damage he inflicted and all the lives he took. amidst the sea of flames and lava, ashes and cinders, smoke and blood, you looked so clear and prominent in his eyes. in the vast area of crimson, you were the only pale white in sight. 

and at that, he and his titan shed even more tears.

especially when you gazed at him with awe and pride.

he did not know how he managed to make it through the night, with sasha’s death, your appearance, eren’s return. it was a lot to take in a single night, alongside the endless worries he has for the future. 

and then you began to show more often. 

you visited in his dreams, popped up in the meeting halls, watched from afar during the time he trains. he basks in it, he craves it and loves your presence, he adores it so much. his days would be incomplete if you didn't appear before him. before he knew it, he became dependent on your presence. 

he was addicted to you. to the ghost of you. to your image, your voice, your aura. he's drawn in to you and your remnants, hiding in the comfort of whatever you give him.

it was alarming, and bad. how armin seemed to never function as well as he did ever since he got drunk on your makeshift existence. his behavior has the others worried but they choose to keep quiet about it, thinking that things might be taking a toll on him.

he craves your presence. needs it. longs for it. because, why would you only appear now? he was already at the verge of finally getting over your death, but you just had to pull him back, didn't you?

but he didn't mind. he missed you so much. he yearned for you for so long. he engraved every little thing about you. your voice when you'd talk to him. the feeling of your cold mist on his skin whenever you caress his face. your warm tears falling on his hand whenever you think he's asleep.

and it's like, you were still there.

because in every nook and cranny of every room, he can see your shadow. in the skies, fields, mountains, even in the midst of war and purge, his ocean eyes always finds you.

even though he knew he shouldn't. he's the new commander of the scouts, so there's just one more thing important than you.

oh? he fell unconscious during the battle? god, why are you still there again? he needs to fight with eren? damn it, why are you there as well? he needs to think straight, he doesn't need you.

not anymore.

because he's the hero who saved the world. the leader of the paradis island who'd continue the peace talks. he wields so much authority and power. so, why should he be dependent on a false image? on a mist? on a hallucination?

he's so much more than a man who's addicted to his dead lover's apparitions.

so, you served your purpose already. you got him through the war and the hard times.

it's about time you leave him alone.

❀ levi ackerman

he was not one to believe in such things. he saw you once after your death? huh, must be his eyes playing a trick on him. or maybe it was the fatigue. it was quick, the way his eyes flew to your form before he looked the other way. sure he had seen his dead comrades before too, but he did not dwell on it. 

he’d get nothing from looking for too long. 

so it’s better to look away than to immerse himself in it. 

but even though he doesn’t look at you, he does not reject your existence nor your presence. he sees you, he feels you, but he makes no move to acknowledge you. but he also does not make any move to get rid of you. 

that was enough for you, though. 

just watching from afar was enough for you. your gaze always falls on the scars on his face, softens whenever you see him smile the slightest while spending time with gabi and falco. you smile to yourself at the thought that no sacrifices has ever gone to waste. 

even though you knew that everyone’s demise brought pain and struck a hole in his heart, you didn't bear any regrets nor blame. levi finally felt at peace and content, and you’d make sure no one takes that away from him. 

for levi, even if years have passed and his wounds have turned into scars, the pain of yesterday was still alive and fresh. still haunting him wherever he goes. it doesn’t help that you were always around, the corner of his eye always catching your figure in the shadows. 

he’s in a dilemma. he doesn’t know what to do with you. he likes that you’re there because he finds comfort in your presence. but he also hates that you’re there because you keep reminding him of the past he wishes he could rewrite. 

and it’s like, you were still there. 

only he wishes you aren’t. 

do you regret giving up your life for him that day? do you wish to rewrite whatever you have done? do you wish he was the one who died instead? these thoughts kept him awake at night, and he’s always unable to get a blink of sleep. 

you always sat by his windowsill, trying to decipher that look on his face and the thoughts on his mind running a mile per minute. 

and you only realized what you should do when you hear his whimpers and pleas for forgiveness one night where he miraculously was able to fall asleep. 

tears rolled down his face the same time your essence began to fade. 

you knew deep down that levi was already fine without you. and by staying around, you were only tormenting him.

so levi ackerman woke up the next morning, in his cold room, alone. 

with a lukewarm cup of his favorite tea on his bedside table.

which he never told neither falco nor gabi about. 

© 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 2022 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms without permission. thank you.

[sapphire-innit]

MEXICAN L'MANBURG LETS GOOOOOOO

(rp)THEY GOT NO PROOF AND HE KNOWS IT

Quackity is the only MFer who can talk CIRCLES around Dream and I LOVE HIM FOR IT

AGAIN, AGAIN, "Why are you getting involved" I LOVE EVERY TIME QUACKITY POINTS THIS THE FUCK OUT

Dream resorting to threats, his only resort is violence, it always is and thats why QUACKITY IS GONNA TROUNNCE HIM

"I think you're forgetting that I designated this the holy land" - wow they pushed him this far aND THEN CALLED HIM ON IT LIKE FUCKING CHAMPS LETS GOOOOO

"SO YOUR A TYRANT THEN" - Karl

"So your breaking the rules AGAIN" - Quackity

Quackity is so on point in shutting down Sapnap's instinct towards violence, he's right they HAVE to win this with words they HAVE TOO. They have Dream backed into a corner as long as they aren't the ones to instigate violence on the Holy Land and its AMAZING

also hes EXACTLY RIGHT there is LITERALLY no proof other than meta gaming that they caused the explosion its SO PERFECT

"If you pull that fucking [rocket launcher] that is actual terrorism. We're playing a politics game, this is easy, this is easy, we have the upper hand here" Quackity KNOWS how much of an upper hand he has in this and I LOVE IT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

he's even talking about 'pushing narratives' hes so smart hes so smart I love him

...also I love the character arc Sapnap's on where he's realizing that Dream really really doesn't care about him. I saw it a little bit when he came to bully Tommy, trying to reclaim what it used to be like, to bond over one of Dream's interests really. But now, now Sapnap's stated it out loud and actually acknowledged it, and I love it

"raid MY castle, MY THRONE" omg

KARL POINTING OUT THAT DREAM THREATENED THE HOLY LANDS KING KING KING!!!!!!

lol Eret reaching out, they're too good for this, they don't deserve this happening to them lmao

"I literally don't care about the throne" gOD "its just a bunch of gold blocks" once again Dream not giving a SHIT about sentimentality and how this server RUNS

"KINDA SOUNDS LIKE A TYRANT TO ME" heyyy buddy, you know who likes to call his political enemies terrorists Dream?? Hey you know who likes to do that, huh buddy????? TYRANTS MOTHERFUCKER GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

"WE PUT HUMAN LIFE AHEAD OF A FEW BLOCKS AND THAT MAKES US TERRORISTS???" KARL I'VE NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO YOU BEFORE BUT I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU OK, YOU, YOU GET IT

But seriously I think Karl is just catching on to HOW FUCKED UP DREAM AND HIS POWER IS, and is fully behind this, even knowing that Eret's not behind the explosion. Because the thing is, that DREAM doesn't know that (maybe not even cc!Dream knows that it's unclear!) so if Eret really HAD killed him, this is the kind of response he would have gotten. For getting KILLED, PEACEFULLY PROTESTING. and THATS REALLY FUCKED UP!!!!!

Also I would like to point out that they have made no indication that they're going to continue ''''griefing''', and yet Dreams goal is for them to "Stop". I think the reason Quackity had to do this, the reason Dream's so upset, is exactly because Dream does NOT like to be made to acknowledge the factions as actual Things until he has too (and even then he likes to declare war on them and say they aren't a country at the same time. Like a Tyrant.)

"In my mind Mexican L'Manburg doesn't exist" "So no one can form a country????"

"And I'll talk to Tubbo about it" FUCKER LIKE U HAVE THAT PULL ASS. what u gonna put the walls back up if Tubbo doesn't agree with you???? He really does see Tubbo as fully in his power now that Tommy has been exiled huh

"we just want to be recognized as a country" "THAT is the ONLY time you have ever stepped foot and EVER recognized us as something" BOOM THERE IT IS THIS IS WHY THIS HAD TO HAPPEN THIS WAY

Quackity trying to give up the Tyrant angle, because he knows its ineffective, Absolute King Karl not giving up on it because he BELIEVES (to the arguments detriment to be fair lmao)

Nothing is the operative word Dream, you like to ignore these things because as long as you don't acknowledge them, they're just another part of Dream SMP to you

"A country that is established has to have a fair and just and logical ruler" FIRST OFF, first time we're hearing these rules Dream thanks for laying that out to us soooooo clearly and definitely not just covering your ass bc your hypocrisy has been pointed out :) :) :)

SECOND, what bULLSHIT, to say that a ruler has to be "fair and just and logical", has to be up to YOUR STANDARDS basically to rule!!! its not enough for them to form and have people follow them, oh no, they have to be up to YOUR IDEALS. EPHEMERAL IDEALS that can CLEARLY be taken away, as seen by the L'Manburg walls being put up after a time of peace!

And lets talk about why you think Tubbo of all people is someone you consider up to your standards AFTER exiling Tommy. Because it wasn't TUBBO who changed, those standards have NOTHING in them about a cabinent or who lives in the country. NO, its because now Tubbo has proven to be CONTROLLABLE, and therefore a PUPPET GOVERNMENT

AND QUACKITY HAS ALWAYS ALLLLLWAYS SEEN THROUGH YOUR SHIT DREAM, NO WONDER YOU DON'T WANT TO GRANT HIM LEGITIMACY

lol its so much clearer because Tubbo has SO much chaos energy the HYPOCRISY

"Do you think through anything you do" the sheer AUDACITY, QUACKITY IS THE MOST CALCULATING PERSON ON THE SERVER ARE YOU KIDDING ME. It just goes to show HOW MUCH Quackity has this in hand and has Dream FOOLED, how much Dream DOES NOT UNDERSTAND QUACKITY AT *ALL*. He's had SO MUCH CONTROL over EVERY ONE in the confrontation, from Dream himself down to keeping his men in line, to keeping the conversation on track. ARE YOU TELLING ME SOMEONE WHO CAN CONTROL THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION with HIS WORDS ALONE is someone who DOESN'T THINK THINGS THROUGH????

Poor Eret, they truly are just a figurehead at this point, and nothing shows it more than the fact that they are only NOW joining the 'leaders' call. They were USED to get to Dream because Quackity completely understands that the crown is just a symbol and they really have NO say, despite the fact that it was really them who has been wronged in this case!!!! Dream isn't even PRETENDING he's upset on Eret's behalf!

Even Eret's body language, its looking up to Dream, its crouching, its supplication

Dream is really going off of either meta knowledge or PURE Assumption

the SMILE on Quackity's Face when he starts laying out terms he's COMPLETELY willing to do

"How about we start from a fresh slate, it's a bloodshed history, we'll change it" ayayyyyyy a dawn of a NEW DAYYY

"I'll Apologize to Eret but I won't Apologize to you" KING SHIT KING SHIT

WHAT A RUSH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[philicheesecake]

(U. L.) Reclaiming the Earth

Synopsis: The monsters who held a grudge against humanity rise up to take revenge.

Warnings: ?/F soft unwilling vore, death of pred, intense violence, implied death of characters, general chaos and peril

Warren slammed the book shut and hobbled over to take out another one. He collapsed against the wall as he started to skim through the pages. Two weeks felt like a year in this dull basement. The only company was an exhausted alchemist and a murderous giant who tried to kill him. He was afraid to tell Rebeka and Liss the extent of what happened. As far as they knew, he got into a car accident out of town and was staying at the hospital there with a friend. They knew nothing about his missing leg. He didn’t want to say anything about it, as if that would solidify the loss. Magic exists… Magic can fix anything, right? Why tell them if his leg wouldn’t be gone forever? He’d surely find a way to get it back if he tried.

Phantom limb syndrome was hell. The stump of his left leg was swelling up as it healed, and Olivia had to keep cleaning and treating it to avoid infection. The nerve endings were on fire, and even though the limb was gone, it felt like it was still there. Most of the stuff he could feel from it right now was just pain. 

“You know no magic can reverse that, right?”

Warren glanced up from the book to shoot Rhyka a glare. “Well that’s exactly what a careless murderer like you would say to make me give up. And I heard you the first hundred times.”

Rhyka sighed, leaning back in her chair. She was still tied down to it to avoid causing any trouble. She hadn’t tried to escape since they first captured her. It was almost unsettling how complacent she was here, not seeming worried at all about her predicament.

“I don’t expect you to listen to me, though your stubbornness can be amusing to watch. It says a lot about humans.”

Warren’s eyes narrowed at her, then he ignored her and stared back down at the book, continuing to flip through the pages. He stopped when he heard something from the floor above make its way downstairs. Olivia was there, looking tired as usual. Her carafe of coffee might as well be glued to her hand because of how seldom she was seen parted with it. Close behind her followed a familiar tall figure with unruly black hair and golden eyes. 

Warren perked up in confusion. “Eli?” The camouflaged giant’s eyes barely met the ex-hunter as Rhyka seemed to catch his eye. He took in a gasp and let out a hysterical chuckle. “What the-- fuck? You gotta be shitting me!” He grinned, hopping off the last stair and went over to Rhyka, laughing. Olivia followed behind, seeming too tired for this as she lazily sipped her coffee. 

“Oh stars, ya did it! The fuck are ya doin’ here!” Eli shot a glance over to Warren, still grinning. “Hey tiny. The fuck happened to your leg?”

“It’s fine- I’ll fix it.” Warren spoke hesitantly. 

“Still stuck in denial,” Rhyka’s expression was unphased and deadpanned at the other giant. “Hello, Arawn. Did the other giants scare you off again?”

Warren was curious as well, wondering why on earth Eli would come here of all places. He hated humans. Maybe he just came here to gloat over the Elder giant. Eli’s eyes narrowed at Rhyka’s words and he let out a snort. “Scare me? Nah. They’re just bein’ fuckin’ annoying. Too many giants out of rotation. I came here to hang out ‘till they scatter. I have no idea what the hell is goin’ on ‘cuz there was just a Banding, and there’s like, hundreds around. It’s impossible to get anywhere without their stench fuckin’ everything up.” He rolled his eyes. 

Warren’s eyes widened. “Wha-- hundreds?” His voice raised up a pitch in fear. “What-- what are they all doing here? It’s halloween! Everyone is going to be out late! It’ll be a bloodbath!”

Eli snorted. “Not like I fuckin’ care, tiny. I just don’t want ‘em off my ass.”

Rhyka tilted her head slightly and looked at Eli almost mockingly. “There are so many… Couldn’t you help but feel as if they are leaving you out of something bigger?”

Eli bared his teeth in a snarl. “Like I’d ever wanna be part of anything involving them after what they fuckin’ did. They’re all assholes. Every one of ‘em.”

Rhyka sighed, her lips still curled back into a slight smile. “Something bigger is coming, Arawn. Bigger than you and your petty grudges. Do you not want to be part of the redemption of our kind? You are so caught up in the past about what happened and have become blind to what the future holds for us. I remember you as a child. You were one of the most determined and loyal of the giants in your clan. You held so much more promise than your soft sister.”

Eli’s eyes flared in fury. Bones cracked and lengthened and he grew to his giant form, crouching beneath the low ceiling and propped up on all fours to stoop over Rhyka with an infuriated growl. “Olivia, I think I’m gonna to take this irritating prick off of your hands.”

The alchemist lifted the carafe from her lips briefly to mutter a tired. “Sure.”

Warren took in a nervous gasp and tried to stand, supporting himself against the back of a chair. Part of him wondered what Rhyka had meant with this ‘bigger thing’ that was coming, but that had quickly swept out of his mind at Eli’s actions. As much as he hated Rhyka, he didn’t want to see anyone sent to that sort of fate. “Wait— Eli—“

Eli ignored him, striking his claws through the ropes binding her to the chair and pinned her arms to her sides as he brought her closer. Warren took in shaky breaths and looked away. 

“You are so predictable, Arawn.”

CRASH!

The giant’s ears flattened backward at the sudden sound from upstairs. He glanced up briefly. “The fuck…?”

The basement door suddenly flew open and a figure appeared. They were short and lean in stature and wore a long dark blue hooded coat, a mask covering the lower half of their face, and the fanged lower jaw of some sort of animal attached to their mask. Their eyes were a blank white. 

They lifted their right hand and a white glow beamed from it. Eli was suddenly slammed backward against the opposite wall by an invisible force. Plaster and dust showered down from the ceiling from the impact. Rhyka flew from his hands and landed onto the floor. Warren gasped and crawled backwards, trying to hide beneath the staircase. 

Olivia set down her carafe, seeming more irritated than afraid of the sudden intrusion. She went over to her alchemist equipment and drew out a piece of green ice which melted into her hand upon contact. 

“Leave my shop.” She drawled. 

“Not until I’m done shopping for a special artifact.” The stranger replied in a high, amused voice. Their hand glowed again and Olivia was hurled against the wall next to Eli. Eli coughed, crouching beneath the ceiling and bared his fangs. “The fuck are you, prissy?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be readying the front lines?” The stranger raised a brow. “Ah, I see. This is one of the soft ones. Come along, Rhyka! We can’t miss tonight’s festivities!” 

“Fuck off. She’s mine to kill.” Eli growled and lunged to grab for Rhyka again, though something seemed to twist beneath his skin, forcing his hand backwards in an unnatural position. He let out a shriek of pain and was held back and immobilized, unable to reach further. 

“Respect your Elders, now. Did no one ever tell you that?” The stranger chuckled. Rhyka grinned, hurrying to her feet to follow the stranger. Olivia grunted in annoyance and held out her hand. Her hand seemed to turn into wood and long twisted vines erupted from her palm. They grappled for Rhyka’s leg and yanked her backwards. 

“You ruined… my evening. Did no one ever teach you to knock?” The alchemist frowned slightly. 

The white-eyed stranger withdrew something from their coat and crushed it between their fingers. Blood poured from their hand. Olivia suddenly choked and coughed. Blood splattered across her lips and soaked through her midsection from an invisible wound. She stumbled to the floor, coughing her lungs out before she went still in a growing pool of her own blood. The vines from her hand retreated to nothing. 

Rhyka got to her feet again and ran up to join the stranger by the stairs. “Ah, too bad you finished the job for me. I would have liked to kill her myself. And it’s a shame you chose not to join us Arawn. Maybe one day you will side with your own kind when we reclaim our world.”

An angered roar ripped from Eli’s throat, still fighting against the invisible force with no luck. The stranger cackled in amusement and turned to disappear up the stairs with Rhyka at their side. 

The invisible force seemed to vanish as soon as they left and Eli fell flat on his face. He growled, getting into his knees again and crawled toward the staircase. 

Warren was shaking, but managed to scoot across the floor towards Olivia. “Eli s-stop! You— you saw what they did to— to Olivia— You won’t stand a chance!” 

He bit back nausea building up in his throat and tried to lift Olivia off of the floor, holding pressure to the bleeding wound. He put his other hand to her neck to feel her pulse. For a moment he thought he had lost her, but the pulse could faintly be felt. She had lost so much blood it had become almost too subtle to detect. 

Eli stopped to glance back at Warren and scowled with a groan. Warren was right. He took a good look at Olivia that didn’t seem promising.

“Leave it, kid. She’s gone.”

Warren glared at Eli. “She— she’s alive. We just need… alchemy or— or something.” 

“It’s probably too late for—“

Eli’s voice was cut off as there was a sudden tremor that shook the whole basement. Cracks split through the ceiling and debris showered down. There was a sound like rumbling thunder. The quaking came in bursts. It would shake, then go silent, then it would shake again. 

Warren held Olivia closer, tensing up. His hand was now soaked in blood from trying to hold her wound closed. “What— what was that?” 

A louder boom made the room shake and Eli raised up his hands to shield himself from the debris coming from the ceiling. His nose scrunched up as if he had caught a bad smell. “The fuck— did the giants follow me here? They’re so close. But that scent...” His eyes widened. “Mountain giants.” 

As Eli was speaking, Warren struggled to hold in the blood. Olivia was growing cold and clammy. Her skin seemed even more pale now. He didn’t know how much time she had left. Warren glanced up at Eli nervously. “Mountain gi—? okay we can worry about that later— what— what alchemy thing smells the most like it’ll do some miraculous healing? She’s— she’s getting a lot worse.” 

“Worry about them later? Are ya out of your fuckin’ mind? And I told ya. She’s,” he paused and his eyes narrowed briefly. He glanced towards the alchemy equipment, seeming to smell something. He moved toward it and clawed off one of the drawers with his oversized hand and drew out a long white feather. He sniffed it, then held it out for Warren. “Ugh. We gotta press this to the wound, but we both should probably do it.”

He looked begrudging of the idea of helping Olivia, but Warren took it. Warren took hold of the feather and held it up against the wound with Eli’s hand touching the feather as well. A sudden pain shot through him and he felt like the blood had been drained from his body and a wound had pierced his middle. The color left his face, and he shuddered, watching the color begin to return to Olivia’s. 

Eli groaned, withdrawing his hand and put it to his middle. He seemed to be experiencing a similar pain. Blood stained his hand. The feather was now coated in blood, but Olivia’s wound had thankfully stopped bleeding. 

“What— the heck was that?” Warren gasped. 

“Caladrius feather. Learned how to hunt ‘em back when I was a kid.” The giant glanced up and held his arms up to brace himself as the room shook again with a rumble. “Okay, somethin’s up and I don’t want to be trapped in a goddamned basement when somethin’ sniffs out all that blood.”

He shifted back to his camo form and got to his feet. Warren looked up at him with wide eyes, still splattered in Olivia’s own blood. “Wait--” He bit his lip. “That crazy magic person… and Rhyka… They said... s-something big is coming. Something… Something’s happening out there. And my sisters are out in the open trick-or-treating.”

Eli glanced back at him, raising a brow. “Trick-or-treatin’s a hot spot for giants to snatch from anyways. Why the fuck would ya let ‘em go out doin’ that after knowing all this shit exists? You’re dumber than I thought.” 

“I didn’t think this would happen! I thought the rotation already passed! Just— if you see them out there, please—“

“I’m not your personal guard dog, ‘kay? I’d rather save my own skin from these giants than stick my neck out for some random humans.” Eli looked disgusted. His eyes studied Warren’s for a moment, almost seeming to second-guess his words before the look was gone in an instant. An almost defensive expression crossed his face before he let out a snort and headed up the stairs again. 

“Wait— wait!” Warren was ignored and left alone in the company of the unconscious alchemist. 

Eli stopped at the front of the alchemist’s shop and took a good sniff of the air as he glanced out the now shattered window. Past the billowing clouds of dust, smoke, and splintered concrete. His jaw dropped. 

“Fuck.”

***

Elsewhere…

“Don’t take off your hat, or no one will recognize what you are!”

“But it’s itchy!” A whiny voice returned. 

Rebeka shook her head, smiling. “Well then, I guess I’ll be the pirate for Halloween!”

The older sister reached over to take Liss’s pirate hat and set it on her head. The two sisters were making their way down the sidewalk for trick-or-treating as he sky darkened and the pale full moon crept out from the lacy clouds. Kids of every age with their parents were dressed up in fun and scary Halloween costumes. Skeletons, witches, demons, cats. 

Ten-year-old Liss has been proud of what she picked for Halloween. She was a pirate. And not just any pirate, but a captain with a fluffy red feather on top of her hat. She even brought along her plush dragon that would serve as a parrot for now. At the moment, instead of resting on her shoulder, it was propped up against the rim of her jack-o-lantern candy bucket to peer outside. 

Ever since Warren’s car accident, Rebeka had felt a bigger sense of protectiveness over their little sister. It made her anxious, though she hid it well. She worked at a hospital. She was used to dealing with keeping a calm facade over stress. She didn’t want to scare Liss. 

“But you can’t be a pirate! You’re a robber!” Liss said.

“A robber and a pirate can be the same thing. A pirate is just someone who steals things,” Rebeka responded, straightening the hat on her head. It did clash with the black-and-white striped prison garb that she wore, which made Liss feel even more upset. That was her captain hat. 

“No— give it back! I want to be the captain!”

Rebeka chuckled, pretending for a moment longer that she intended on keeping the hat, even taking out her phone to look at the reflection of how it looked on her before finally shrugging. 

“Hmm… Well I don’t want the hat to go to waste if you keep taking it off… But I can always take it back when you take it off again.”

The hat was withdrawn and offered to the little pirate again who quickly snatched it back. “I won’t take it off!”

Rebeka chuckled in a teasing tone. “If you say so,”

The last words were muted by a sudden deafening rumbling. The very ground quaked. Hairline cracks split across the ground, spreading across the pavement. Rebeka’s eyes widened and she quickly dropped her pillowcase candy bag, reaching out to bring Liss closer. The little girl screamed, hugging her sister. She even dropped her candy bucket, completely forgetting about her plush dragon. 

“What was that?” Liss shouted over the sounds. 

“I don’t know.” Rebeka said, keeping her voice level. Her heart pounded, but she had to stay calm around her sister. She lifted up Liss and hurried down the quaking street. The trembling ground made it hard to keep footing. It was hard to think. 

In a rush of adrenaline, she ran while carrying her little sister toward the center of the town. While she ran, she heard a deafening crashing sound behind her. The cracks in the ground widened and rubble tumbled down the mountainside. The road was split in half and there was no way of crossing back over. 

Thundering tremors seemed to pulse through the ground, spaced out with brief periods of silence and rumbles. Almost like the rhythm of a beating drum. Dust clouded up the streets from the rubble, clouding her vision. A police siren blared and people were shouting to get inside. A neighbor stood by their doorway, beckoning them inside. Liss could see something over Rebeka’s shoulder and screamed. Rebeka didn’t dare look back, but bolted into the house. The neighbor shut the door hastily and locked it. 

“What— what was that?” The neighbor gasped. 

“I didn’t see—“

“He was ginormous!” Liss was set onto the floor, staring back at the door with wide eyes. “And there was a wolf as tall as our house!”

Rebeka blinked. “A wolf? Here? Wolves don’t even get that big.”

She looked to the neighbor who only nodded fearfully. “I got a glimpse. At least ten feet tall or something. And that monster-thing! It must have been five stories—!”

There was suddenly a grinding screech that deafened their words. The ceiling shook, then stopped. Following a pause, there was a deafening crash. The ceiling caved inward nearby, impacted by a boulder— no, it wasn’t a boulder. 

A hand.

The massive appendage was nearly as tall as they were standing from wrist to fingertips and it was a dark stony grey color. It grabbed the neighbor, dragging them back screaming through the hole in the roof. “Oh my god!” Rebeka screamed, picking up Liss again to run toward the back door of the house. The woods laid beyond. Whatever these— these things were, they seemed to be targeting the people of the city. She knew some caves that would hopefully be too narrow for them to reach into. 

She ran into the trees and deeper into the forest. The ground still shook and frightening sounds came from the city. She could smell smoke. Moonlight shifted between the leaves in a chilly breeze as they fled. Up ahead, the hill sloped downward into a steep dip in the forest. In the center, boulders surrounded a narrow opening in the earth. Rebeka set Liss down and gasped to catch her breath. 

“C-come on— inside,” Rebeka took Lisa’s hand and started taking her toward the cave. The opening was narrow and eight feet high. Whatever that massive monster was couldn’t get them here. A part of her mind worried about bears, but she knew there were worse things to worry about. Liss whimpered and complained about going into the dark cave, but Rebeka got out her phone’s flashlight and shined it into the cave. 

The sisters hurried cautiously into the space and Rebeka immediately sat down, covering her face as she tried to catch her breath and get her bearings about what happened. She felt something move beside her as Liss hugged her. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Rebeka didn’t know what to make of the situation, what those things were, why they attacked, what they were doing to people… The old book, ‘War of the Worlds’ came to mind with the countless aliens coming to harvest humans and take over the planet for themselves. Would it be like that?

“I’ll check that the rest of the cave is safe. Stay here,” Rebeka said numbly. She got to her feet again and shined her flashlight into the dark depths of the cave. The stone walls grew narrower and winded deeper like a maze as she went. She didn’t venture too far. This place was giving her the creeps, and she didn’t want to leave Liss alone for long. 

Liss hugged herself as her sister left. She glanced outside the mouth of the cave again. She thought she could hear something moving in the distance. A shimmer of reflective eyes… Maybe it was a cat in a tree? Either way, it made her nervous. She liked cats, but this one didn’t move like a cat. She shivered against the cave wall nervously, hoping that Rebeka would come back soon. 

Something moved to Rebeka’s side within the deep passage. She gasped and in her panicked state, her phone slipped out of her grip. The cave was swallowed into a complete darkness. Something shimmered in the depths of the cave. Two white dots almost seemed to glow. Eyes. She got to the floor, hastily feeling around for her phone. She glanced back at where the eyes where and felt a pant of fear. They were gone. She could hear it moving again. A distant clicking sound like some sort of insect. A cracking, snapping sound like dry bones. Her heart beat faster. Her hand finally located her device and she lifted it up, shining it to her side—

A massive creature stood inches from her side. Easily twice her side. Its skin was bone-white and covered with glowing white, blue, red, and purple markings. It’s eyes were blank and bulbous like a deep sea fish. Jagged long fangs jutted out of its jaws. It almost seemed reptilian by its scaley skin, though a crest of plumage covered its face, back, and tail. Its fingers were long and spidery and topped with long sharp claws. It was bent into an unnatural position. Its joints seemed to defy all logic as they cracked and compressed to travel within the narrow passage.

Rebeka gasped, dropping backwards and tried to crawl away from it. It cocked its head at her and made clicking sounds through its fangs. One of its hands easily grabbed her by the legs and dragged her toward it. She struggled and kicked frantically, trying to pry the grip off of her legs. It let out a hissing screech and jerked her closer, clamping its jaws over her legs. Its long snake-like tongue wrapped around her legs to bind them in place, dripping saliva over her pants. 

Her phone dropped to the floor again as she lowered both hands to fight with the creature’s jaws to try to get it to let go, but instead of reacting, it gulped and her legs were drawn within the tight passage. Its long fangs pricked threateningly around her legs as more of her was drawn in. She could see the sides of its jaws dislocate like a snake’s. A horror dawned on her. It was going to swallow her whole?! She squirmed to try to claw at the cave floor to find something to grip onto, but the smooth floor offered no purchase. She was going to die. Liss— Would it come for her too?

“Liss!” She shouted. “Get— get out of here—!” She let out a pained scream as it’s jaws jerked back for another swallow, dragging her in up to her chest. She could feel herself mostly trapped within the throat now, and the creature was unyielding. Gross drool soaked the narrow throat as it pulsed in another gulp. She couldn’t hear if her sister had run, but only hoped she would get to safety. God, she didn’t want to die like this. 

One last gulp sealed her fate as she was drawn entirely into the creature and set downwards. She was squeezed into a tight fleshy chamber and gasped for air. She kicked against the stomach walls frantically, barely believing what had just happened. She wouldn’t accept this. She didn’t want to die like this!

***

Liss had heard the warning shout and took in fearful breaths, beginning to turn to run outside the cave before her blood froze. Those glistening eyes were staring through the cave entrance, and now she was beginning to make out the figure they belonged to. It looked a person, but it was far too huge to be a person. He was easily over three times as tall as her. His eyes weren’t normal, looking almost like a cat’s. Long fangs and claws were displayed as natural weapons to the large creature. He was entering the cave. She gasped and stumbled away. His face contorted into a scowl and he crawled into the cave, sniffing the air. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move, tiny, or you won’t be the only one who’s gonna get killed tonight,” his voice rumbled threateningly before he crawled right past her and deeper into the cave. She shakily curled up, nodding at the giant. He was scary, and he said bad words. He was probably a villain who was going to try to kill her anyways. She didn’t trust him, but she was too afraid to do anything but obey. 

The giant listened carefully through the cave. His eyes adjusted to the darkness easily. He could see something up ahead. A clicking.

 “Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He could hear it already making its escape deeper into the cave passage. It was too narrow for the giant to get far, even on his hands and knees. He had to hurry. He could see the iconic glowing markings of the cave creature in the distance and hurried faster with his lips curled back into a threatening snarl. Its tail was beginning to round a corner and he roughly grabbed for it. An inhuman screech followed and it writhed in his grip like a fish, but he was unyielding. He dug his claws into the tail for grip and dragged it backwards. The creature was dragged into sight. 

A cave giant. Its body was contorted to fit through the cave passage, though it was significantly larger than the wood giant. This one must’ve been fifteen feet tall, though it was difficult to tell with it’s awkward position. The giant could see its middle was slightly bulging with its living meal writhing within. 

The cave giant let out a screech as it whirled around, slashing its longer claws toward the wood giant. They dug into his shoulder and dragged across his torso, cutting deep into the flesh. He hissed in pain, feeling his shirt already soaked down with his own blood. He lunged at the cave giant, driving his own claws into the creature’s chest and bit down near the neck, just missing the vitals by centimeters. Blood dripped from his fangs and he felt dizzy from his own blood loss at this point. He shoved the creature to the cave floor and pinned it at the throat. It squirmed weakly as it was losing consciousness from the wound in its neck. He jabbed his claws into its torso and dragged them downwards, making a long, wide cut through its stomach. The creature let out one last weak screech before choking on its own blood and went still. 

The giant felt lightheaded, barely conscious from his own blood loss. His wounds weren’t closing up quickly enough to make up for the lost blood. He ignored the pounding pain and finished the cut along the creature’s middle and a bedraggled, slimy person fell out onto the cave floor, covered in the cave giant’s own blood and stomach fluids. She reeked. A grimace formed on the giant’s face and he roughly grabbed her arm, dragging her back toward the mouth of the cave. She coughed up slime that had gotten into her mouth and gasped for air. She blearily tried to adjust to what had happened and the change of temperature outside of the creature’s stomach. Something else had caught her now. She couldn’t see well in the darkness, though she could make out his reflective golden eyes and his hulking silhouette that dwarfed her. She let out a frightened sound and kicked, struggling to get his grip off of her arm. “W-wait— p-please— let me go—“

She yelled as the grip was suddenly released and she dropped to the floor. She coughed, trying to get to her feet. She could see Liss curled up near the mouth of the cave and shakily got to her feet, stumbling forward. She tripped over her own feet and fell onto her face before she managed to gain her bearings back and rushed over to her sister to make sure she was alright.

“Yeah, don’t thank the giant that just saved your ass. Sure.” The giant grumbled, sitting against the cave wall as he pressed a hand to the injury across his torso. He grit his teeth slightly, cursing under his breath. “I’m so fuckin’ stupid. Ugh. Stars. Shit. Damnit.”

Liss hugged her sister in relief and instantly grimaced at the slime and repulsive smell. “Ew! What happened? You smell yucky.” The little girl withdrew and covered her ears as the giant cursed again. “He says a lot of bad words…”

Rebeka shuddered, shaking her head. “It’s f-fine,” she looked at the giant nervously. “Who— what are you? Why did you— why—“ she winced and sat on the floor of the cave, putting a hand to her head, trying to keep her breaths level. So much was going through her head right now. Too many scares. She didn’t know how to take this all in. 

“Name’s Eli. I’m a giant. Dumbass.” He groaned and laid down on his side. His wounds were bleeding so badly, he just needed time to heal. “Ugh, gonna get some… shuteye… heal… Don’t leave… don’t do anything fuckin’... stupid.” 

In moments, he was already asleep, leaving the two alone in the cave. Rebeka bit her lip, glancing down and tried to level her breaths after all that had happened. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt so tight. She felt a cold shiver run over her and her limbs slowly lost awareness. She slumped to the floor, unconscious. 

***

Poke.

Rebeka barely stirred. She rolled to her side and let out a tired snort in her sleep. 

Poke-poke-poke-poke-poke.

Her eyes shot open and she batted away the contact groggily. Liss was in her face leaning over her with a fearful whisper. “Beka-- Beka-- he’s-- he’s awake--”

Rebeka rubbed her face tiredly, grimacing as she became reacquainted to the gross smell that still clung to her since the incident with the cave giant. She grimaced and glanced down at her hands briefly. The slime had dried to her hands, making her feel all sticky and gross. She was still shocked at all that had happened, not sure if it was all real, and wasn’t sure how to take all of it. Her gaze shifted forward to where her little sister directed her attention. The sun had already risen high in the sky, casting its peaceful glow into the cave. The giant was sitting at the mouth of the cave, seeming to mess with an oversized leather satchel. His clothes were still stained with blood, though his injuries seemed to have closed up already, judging by the fact that he wore no bandages and they weren’t actively bleeding. 

He glanced over his shoulder towards the two humans with a raised brow. “Ya know I can fuckin’ hear ya, right?”

Liss let out a startled yelp and hid behind Rebeka. Rebeka sat up, biting her lip shakily. “W-who…” She took in a deep breath as she got to her feet, feeling dizzy from the motion, but leaned against the cave wall for support. She frowned slightly as she found her words. “Who are you? Why did you help us? Wh-what the heck is happening to my home?”

Eli snorted with a shrug, leaning against the wall of the mouth of the cave as he set down his bag. “Already toldja who I was, unless ya have a shitty memory. No clue what happened to the town though. Guess the monsters all decided to come out of hidin’ like a buncha fuckin’ idiots. Looks like we missed the burnin’ though. Nothin’ really seems to be left now.”

He got to his feet outside the cave, towering above the entrance as Rebeka digested these words. She felt empty. Autumn Ridge was gone? 

“Warren.” Her eyes widened. Warren was the next town over in a hospital (or at least she was told). How could she know if he was safe? “Oh god..” She reached for her phone, only to recall having dropped it earlier. 

Eli noticed her expression. “He’s alive. Probably. He’s just in the middle of that hellhole though. It’ll be impossible to go out there with the monsters guarding the down though. No tellin’ how far they took over though or how much they planned.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead and ignored her stunned expression. He had been told about this moment of history ever since he was a child. He just had never believed it would ever happen. The apocalypse that would reclaim the land for the monsters and drive humanity to extinction. This scared even him. He didn’t know what to expect. Rhyka’s words about something big coming were true. It was already here.

“How do you… You know Warren?”

“Yeh. Used to be a monster hunter. A fuckin’ pathetic one too.” He smirked slightly. “C’mon. He should be ‘round the edge of the town. We might have a small shot in gettin’ him outta there while the daylight lasts, and I ain’t babysitting you here for ya to get gobbled up by some other cave giant.” 

He rolled his eyes and began walking through the forest. Liss began to exit the cave after the giant and glanced nervously at him, then back at her older sister. “Warren hunted monsters?”

Rebeka held out her hand to hold Liss back as the little sister began to follow before debating her odds here. She bit her lip briefly before letting go to follow close beside Liss. Everything was dangerous now. Having a bigger ally was their only chance of survival. 

“Ya deaf? Yeah that’s what I just said, tiny. He tried to hunt me and did a fuckin’ awful job at it. Then ended up screwin’ up at it. Ya really don’t remember me?” He glanced down at the sisters with a smirk. He had seen both of them before when he was trapped in camo form, though he looked very different then. Rebeka’s brow furrowed briefly in thought. Eli let out a chuckle. “‘Bout a month or two ago. The random dude who gave him a ride home from a car race in a fucked-up pickup truck.”

Rebeka’s eyes widened in realization. “What--! You were-- you were normal-sized!”

“Ya mean tiny. I’m normal-sized. Y’all are just… eensy.” He gestured “tiny” with his fingers pinched together with an amused snort. “It’s called camo. It’s how giants managed to avoid humans’ radar for hundreds of years.”

The giant paused towards the edge of the forest, looking down the hillside. The town was in ruins. Fire and rubble were everywhere. Plumes of smoke arose from the burning houses. Cars were smashed in the streets. In the middle of the town, slumped against the town hall, three massive fifty foot tall giants with stony-grey skin lay fast asleep. Eli shook his head with a whistle of awe. “Well look at that. Seems they were redecorating. Fuckin’ fantastic.”

Rebeka stopped behind him and covered her mouth to withhold a gasp of terror. Liss began to cry, hugging her leg. “God…” She choked.

“Ain’t gonna get to your brother from here. Gotta make our way around first. C’mon. Quick.” Eli’s nose wrinkled from the scent of the smoke and blood coming from the town. He assumed any threats from the town were sleeping off any meals they had gathered during the raid, so they only had a small window of time before dusk to try to retrieve Warren and Olivia from the shop ruins. 

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the opposite edge of town. They only had mere hours before dusk when the monsters would likely awaken again. The town was a ghost town. Though Eli could still smell humans hiding within the city, they were all likely too afraid to come out of hiding. It was safe enough to walk within the crumbling streets. Houses were cracked and tilted sideways from the earthquakes. Large boulders from the landslide had fallen over even the most durable buildings, burying them in rubble. The giant eventually found the alchemist shop and bones cracked and shifted as he shrank down to his camo size. 

He could smell another scent in here and he didn’t like it. Rebeka watched in shock as the giant became deceivingly human right before her eyes and hesitantly followed into the shop and followed him towards the back, keeping Liss close. Eli stopped at the top of the staircase to the basement, cursing in his throat. “Ugh, crap.”

The entire basement had caved in. The stench of old blood was overwhelming. Rebeka stopped behind him, looking up at the camo’d giant. “W-what? What happened? Where is he?”

“We got here too late.” He muttered. He turned and froze, sniffing the air again. They weren’t alone here. His eyes narrowed and he drew out his claws. “Quit hidin’ there. I can fuckin’ smell ya, ya know.”

There was a shuffle behind the aisles and shelves of herbs and jars. A figure stepped into sight. He was tall and well-toned with an athletic build. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and held out an orb of golden ice. 

Eli withdrew his claws, rolling his eyes. “Ah great. The U.L. is here. We’re saved. The hell happened here, and don’t fuckin’ play dumb with me.”

“I was about to ask the same.”

He threw the ice at the giant. His hands instinctively went out to brace himself from the throw, causing the alchemic ice to contact his hands, melting into his hands instantly. Eli shivered, ducking to the floor at the weird sensation of it coming into effect.

Rebeka gasped, standing in front of him. “What did you do? Stop!”

“Putting down a pest,” The man came closer, rolling up his sleeve. Eli hissed through his teeth. “The fuck? I wasn’t even tryina fight ya!” Eli tried to stand, but the man quickly pushed Rebeka aside and grabbed him by the collar. With a swift motion, he clocked him in the face, knocking him out instantly. The giant slumped to the floor unconscious. 

“What are you-- Stop! He was trying to help us!” Rebeka felt Liss move behind her leg. The man ignored her, beginning to hoist the unconscious giant off of the floor into a fireman’s carry. “Please, you’re just confused. You don’t know this monster. If you were looking for the people who were in this shop, they’re already gone. I’ll take you to them. You just have to trust me, okay?”

Rebeka scanned his face nervously, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She bit her lip and nodded. She squeezed her sister’s hand in her fist and followed closely after the stranger into the street. Outside, a Jeep wrangler awaited. The man tied Eli’s hands together and put him in the back seat of the car. Rebeka followed into the car, seating her sister in her lap, just not trusting herself enough to let go of her sister for now. Everything was confusing and she was afraid. She hoped to god Warren was okay.

“My name is East. I’m sorry for everything the monsters might’ve put you through. We have people tracking monsters constantly, though we never anticipated anything like this.” He drove down the crumpling streets, keeping a shotgun in his lap at the ready.

“H-how bad is it?”

East sighed, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. “It’s tough to tell. They planned this ahead and cut out the cell towers so it’s hard to reach other towns to gage the scale of this.”

Rebeka let out a nervous sigh, noticing Liss scoot toward the window to watch the crumpled remains of their hometown to pass by. They were using the roads towards the outskirts of the city, so they had avoided most of the damage in their path, though it could still be seen in the distance. She back at the rearview mirror to search East’s face. “You won’t hurt Eli-- the giant, will you? He saved our lives.”

“It depends on how much he’ll resist on giving us intel on this attack.” The hunter responded grimly. The car turned toward a country road and left the city in its rearview mirrors as the sun began to descend. Its golden flames were choked out by the smoke along the horizon that spread high into the darkening sky. 

----------------------

The rest of the series can be found here.

[maaji-maji-majima]

some kissing hcs for Majima?(if u can make it nsfw)

So I'm in a weird place with this. I don't want to leave you unanswered but I know you won't like the answer that I give. It has been a long time since I was active on tumblr and I'm not sure when along the timeline headcanon became synonymous with fanfiction. I appreciate fanfiction authors for their creativity, but I am not one myself. I use headcanon in the older definition of "this isn't in the source material, but it is true in my brain". They are either random things my half asleep mind thought of while walking home from work or a character analysis. At the same token your ask had crawled into my brainmeats and won't leave. So again, I apologize that this most definitely is not what you're looking for, but I hope someone out there finds this to be an interesting read.

Without further introduction, here is a character analysis of our favorite pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin in regards to relationships and why the he desperately needs therapy as brought to you by a different pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin who got therapy but probably needs more.

Trigger warnings: Abuse, self harm, mental disorders, poor coping strategies, unhealthy relationships, random tense changes, not fanfiction

Spoilers for the whole franchise, but very specifically for 0, K1, and 5.

Abuse does weird things to people's brains. In Yakuza 0 Majima has barely been out of the hole for a year. He might no longer be suffering the actual physical torture he had been subjected to the year prior, but he is still directly in the hands of his abusers and being watched every moment. He is still in a cage even if it doesn't look like one. He is depressed and likely suicidal, but doesn't follow through with those thoughts because he is determined to make sure Saejima has a home to come back to. He is willing to endure just about anything to allow Saejima a chance to exact that final moment of retribution because Saejima is the one who deserves it and Majima doesn't feel that there is any possibility for forgiveness. In all likelihood he hasn't sought out anyone for a hookup or paid company for an evening due to a combination of not feeling like he deserves anything that feels good and the fact that he's constantly being watched. The year in hole means he no longer really has a concept of privacy, but he's worried that getting close to someone, even for a few moments, could put them in danger if Sagawa or Shimano feels like holding something else over his head. It isn't worth accidentally dragging someone into his own personal hell. He no longer lives for the present, he is only living for that far-off future that he hopes isn't just a pipe dream.

Enter Makoto. At first she is a stand-in for Saejima's sister Yasuko, but it morphs rapidly from there. She is the light and kindness and hope that he hasn't seen in years and she's being dragged into his bullshit. He knows in his heart of hearts that she doesn't deserve what she is being forced into, so his mind snaps into the immediate and does everything he possibly can to save her. This is is the hill he wants to die on. Maybe, just maybe, he can end his miserable existence with a final act of good and he feels that Saejima might just be able to understand. But because he no longer has any relationships in his life that are not strictly professional or the abusers he cannot escape, he has little recollection of what a nuanced relationship or even friendship is any longer. Due to circumstance she is also the only person that he cannot keep at arm's length, no matter how desperately he tries. So he falls for her and falls hard. But in the end, after everything they go through he does the impossible. He lets her go. She has a life and a future, whereas he has neither of those. What would she do? Become his ane-san? Have some temporary happiness before she realizes she has a target on her back for the rest of her life? No. Majima believes she deserves so much more than that even though it hurts him deeply. What is one more hurt on top of everything else? He's gotten extremely good at burying his pain.

Getting to Tokyo flips a switch in Majima's brain. Like many people with mental trauma who don't have access to therapy he falls into excess as a way of self medicating. He fits virtually everything on the hedonism checklist. Drinking? Yeah. Violence? Hell yeah! Promiscuity? Yeah, but I ain't judging. Drugs? Probably, even though it isn't explicitly stated in game. Everything from his shift in personality to his wardrobe has become, intentionally or not, a defense mechanism. He has escaped from all of his abusers except for Shimano and he refuses to allow anyone to gain that kind of power over him again.

It is a double edged sword, however. His depression and PTSD are running unchecked. In all likelihood he hasn't fallen hard on vices as a way to reclaim ownership off his own body. Instead it seems more probable that he is dissociating. After everything he has been through he doesn't care what happens to his body in the long run because it isn't actually his anymore. Risky behavior, which is practically Majima's middle name, is also frequently used as a passive form of self harm because the end result is either temporarily feeling better thanks to endorphins and adrenaline or permanently feeling better after embracing death. He could achieve a similar feeling by taking up jogging and chasing a runners high, but that takes more time and energy than chugging a handle of whiskey or goading some chump into throwing hands. Sadly even now admitting to mental problems by seeking help is fairly stigmatized in Japan and it was only worse in the early 90s. Can't have a problem if no one tells you it's there, right?

Then he meets Mirei. She's intense but not wild like Majima. At that moment in time she is everything he needs. Head strong, domineering, and very, very determined. She knows exactly what buttons to press to wrap him right around her finger. And he lets her take the reigns, lets her run his life because he realizes he was doing a terrible job on his own. Better her than Shimano, right? Doing something wrong results in the cold shoulder instead of a vicious beating, and doing something right leads to more than simply the relief of avoiding a beating. He decides that making her happy is enough to make him happy. Until suddenly it isn't. He never wanted to be a father, but even the idea that he could have been was enough to cause a fundamental shift in his entire outlook on life. He could have had someone to live for, instead of just survive for. But he had no say in the matter and didn't know until the decision had been made for him. When Mirei told him she had an abortion he snapped. He hit her. The one and only time he raised his hands against her. Disgusted with himself, and wounded by her decision, he left. If he was capable of that, he knew couldn't be the person she had been trying to mold him into. He realized he was nothing but a weight around her neck dragging her down. And so that day signals the end of their short marriage. He spends the next several decades drowning in guilt for his actions while still resenting her for her choice.

That leaves us with Kiryu. Poor, oblivious Kiryu. Majima's fixation is multifaceted but in no small part due to the fact that Kiryu is one of the few people strong enough to hurt him, but is the only one that doesn't want to. And Majima just doesn't understand. After everything, he only deserves to hurt, right? Saejima, Yasuko, Makoto, Mirei. Everyone who gets too close to him ends up worse for it, so why won't Kiryu and his sense of honor seek justice on their behalf? So he does everything he possibly can to wind up Kiryu enough to Pay Attention Damnit, Fight Me. But Kiryu's response is always just flustered awkwardness because he doesn't want like fighting, it's just a part of his job, like wearing a suit or answering a phone. To Kiryu fighting isn't a thing done because it's enjoyable, it's done because it has to be. But he's still the only one who doesn't flinch when Majima brandishes a knife inches from his face.

And then Kiryu is arrested and in jail for ten years. And ten years is a long time to build someone up onto a pedestal. Like only wanting to talk about the best of a person after they've died. The same thing happened with Saejima. Build them in his mind to what he wants or needs them to be since they are not there to actively correct it. The decade is pretty miserable, going through the motions and trying to not make waves with the bigwigs while terrifying the minions into obedience. When he hears Kiryu is being released it is like waking up again. He all but waits at the taxi stand at the entrance of Kamurocho on the day of Kiryu's release, all but vibrating with excitement. It's a fight he has been waiting on for a decade, too bad it was little more than a disappointment.

So Majima decides to bring him back up to spec in that very Majima flavored way. Small fights, big fights, surprise fights. Kiryu is still reluctant because he doesn't have a reason beyond Majima's dreamed up training program he doesn't actually want to be a part of. Of course this only leads Majima to do everything possible to get under Kiryu's skin, including sharing his personal vulnerabilities while disguising them as jokes just to cause fights, but Kiryu just kind of rolls with it which leads to confusion and frustration on both sides. After a while Majima starts to get into Kiryu's hobbies, like pocket circuit, ostensibly as another form of picking a fight. And he discovers he actually enjoys a lot of it. And they are both too dense and emotionally stunted to realize they're basically dating at this point. At multiple points Majima takes potentially lethal blows meant for Kiryu and the excuse that he is the only one allowed to kill Kiryu is very, very thin. He just can't quite admit out loud that he doesn't want to see Kiryu truly hurt because that's weakness and he is Not Weak (tm).

Shimano's death and Kiryu's departure from the clan come as a whirlwind that destroys him all over again. He's left directionless. So he leaves the Tojo in an attempt to find his own way in the world, for the first time in over twenty years.

I think I need to call it here for now. I know I've left out Saejima and Daigo, among others, but I've been working on this for days and my progress has been eaten twice and I just don't have the energy to keep going right at this time. Maybe some day in the future I'll find the time and energy to write out the rest for all the other games.

tl;dr What Majima wants and what he needs are two different things. He wants to fightfuck, but he needs to be bear hugged into submission so that he can have that mental breakdown he's been carefully bottling up for over thirty years. He needs a good, ugly cry. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

[vrcomputart]

12.11.18

ASMR RESEARCH FOR GROUP PROJECT

Now You’ve Got the Shiveries: Affect, Intimacy, and the ASMR Whisper Community by Joceline Andersen 11/11/14

https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1527476414556184

ASMR - intention, affect

-          This paper “examine[s] how ASMR videos create pleasure through a distant intimacy that relies on the heteronormative gender roles of care and the aural impression of the whisper for its implementation and how their shared space on YouTube further defines that intimacy as public and communal”

-          The ASMR community creates and exchanges videos designed to trigger tingles through screens, denying its nonnormative intimate nature and “the transgressiveness of their digital pleasure”

-          Relaxing head tingles helps with stress and insomnia, inducing comfort and bliss

-          “In the case of ASMR, affect and emotion exist hand in hand, tethered by intentionality, memory, and nostalgia. In this paper, I will explore the connotations of intimacy and care that create the affective ASMR experience to examine the ASMR community on YouTube as sharing in a public and therefore nonnormative experience of distant intimacy that reflects, if reluctantly, the potential of digital communities to make us feel”

-          Aural triggers eg whispering, rustling paper, tapping are physiologically charged - an affective experience (Massumi)

-          “the intention of care has a role in the way that these experiences manifest an affective experience with a content of pleasure.” Some videos role-play everyday tasks, including sounds we may find annoying in our day-to-day lives, but the intention the viewer brings in (to relax) and the assumed intention of the creator (to help others relax) changes the experience to that of care

-          Founder of ASMR research called it “a more polite term for ‘orgasm’. Tenuous links between sensation and science – it is claimed to be an autonomous response, but is ultimately fringe science similar to binaural beat listeners, which brings us back to the point about intentionality. Perhaps it is more of a placebo, and more about the community formed?

Community and Youtube

-          ASMR is a public phenomemon, as it spread across all social media and not just niche sites: “The ASMR community is aligned not only by their quest for affective experience but by their desire to share it through online media…” 

-          Youtube is a big part of the community’s formation -  “youtube is the most public home of asmr”, “an archive and a site of creative exchange”

The voice

-          Usually delivered by female creators. Role-played performance rather than cold instructions. 

-          Voice is important – videos often only show certain body parts (hands, mouth). Focus directed to actions and gesures. Close-ups jar familiar conventions of how a person is framed on a screen. Meditative attention on body parts, sometimes to the point of abstraction. 

-          Sound over video: binaural recording is getting more popular;  “increasingly sophisticated audioscapes while the video quality remains poor. The video component is secondary to the experience and exists primarily because of the affordances of YouTube”

-          Whisper as powerful in a hypersonic world. The whisper requires a closeness between speaker and listener for communication. Connotations to intimate relationships like mother and child (or conversations you have at sleepovers with friends). “The whisper recreates intimacy without the need for physical presence”

-          Whisper demands more attention, so the listener is more intent on sounds, and considering most people use headphones, the effect of whispers in one’s ear are more intense. Private and intimate exchange despite it being public.

-          Quality of voice as carrier of meaning, rather than the words themselves. 

-          The whisperer is ‘hyper-present’, creating an intimacy, a presence made possible thru binaural mics and immersive headphone sound. Affect involves impressions, impression implies contact. Movement creates emotional content. 2 bodies are connected, are able to impress upon another.

Impression and non-normative intimacy

-          Impression created thru affect at a distance is crucially aural. Body casts its impression thru voice. Voice implies flesh body. Listening as act of touch (sound waves). Thus impressions are created through the voice and video (though video is not as affective as we’ve discussed above)

-          Affective impression at a distance – distant intimacy. Close personal attention is a trigger that suggests physical proximity, but is remotely evoked through video. And distant not only spacially but temporally too – you can watch a video a year later after it was released.

Distant intimacy can be useful for people who maybe experience social anxiety or cannot physically experience intimacy. Maybe it’s good cause it’s controlled (you choose when to watch, can pause if needed). And from the other side, you make one video and can touch many. Like an artwork, an encounter, a ‘disruptive’ force in a way.

Also interesting considering the emphasis placed on romantic, sexual relationships as the main, most valid source of intimacy and care. What about friendships and other platonic relationships? And what about a collective sense of care i.e. you don’t need to know someone personally to care about them

-          Distant intimacy – experienced as a group in absence of normal definitions of physical proximity make it “nonstandard intimacy”

-          Intimate experiences in heteronormative culture are limited to couples in private. So you can’t experience pleasure with strangers, especially sexual pleasure. ASMR falls into a zone  where “the spillage of eroticism into everyday social life seems transgressive in a way that provokes normal aversion”

-          ASMR pleasure ranges from relaxation to eroticism. A lot of creators claim it is non-sexual. The affective charge of ASMR emerges w/o standard ‘closeness’ (not in romantic couple context, not physically close in proximity) – so it is reluctantly placed in nonstandard intimacy.

-          Even though it is non-normative, creators still rely on normative scenarios of intimacy to provide emotional content behind the affective charge. Intimate care is provided by females. There is often a child-mother relationship being built between viewer and creator. Even when men make these videos, they participate in tasks gendered as female.

But female creators are choosing to do this – some empowerment? Do they get paid?

Summary: digital and physical

-          Tho enabled thru tech, ASMR still relies on attention to the body and its sensations. Exists thru video streaming platforms, low tech, is sensual thru reclaiming care paradigms of personal attention, touch and meditation thru distant intimacy. In sci-fi, digital pleasure enabled thru computers – films that imagine pleasure as a drug that hooks the brain to a computer, “a cyborg high”. Asmr stands between – addiction is not only pleasure but intimacy, relationship is not only distant but anonymous.

-          Ideal cyborg – uses computer to reinstate the body in shared experiences, rather than leaving out the body purely for mental digital experience. ASMR follows this dictum to the letter, uniting a group of people who use the archive provided by the Internet to focus intensely on a sensation triggered by the impression of a body transmitted through the ear in a nonnormative public experience of pleasure and distant intimacy.

-          Asmr relies on the intimacy and care. Relaxation carried through emotional content, not just the sounds. Asmr uses tech to create new access to pleasure. “the ASMR community allows us to examine what intimacy will look like as we are increasingly linked to each other through the Internet rather than in person.”

-          Distant intimacy breaks with heteronormative culture, releasing a digital-enabled intimacy that is a queer intimacy. While ASMR videos as shared on YouTube draw on real-world paradigms of care, the attachments that ASMRers have to videos beyond their sensory power helps us as media scholars to envision a future where these queer experiences of computer-enabled intimacy are as emotionally compelling as those of maternal care, personal touch, or sex. Whatever the affect created, it is clear that distant intimacy carries emotional value, and that these sensations can be released, by strangers and acquaintances, remotely through digital networks.

There are more noteworthy things to discuss, but I’ll end the notes here as there is already more than enough to digest.

Ideas

Create art that lies between ASMR, oddly satisfying videos (another topic I researched that felt close to ASMR), trance/visionary art aesthetic, music video, and modern witchcraft – providing vids that can be of service, as a form of queer care (nonstandard intimacy). Because for me, behind art, is a desire to relieve suffering through providing pleasure, a desire to care for the world and its creatures, to disrupt the status quo.

Maybe create a device or a platform/software to share the videos in their own context?

[banhchao]

a note:

my anon is currently off (and will be for awhile) because my inbox has been crazy hectic for the past month or so & i rlly feel like my inbox has been lowkey getting taken advantage of (??) if that makes sense. although i’m fine with discourse and whatnot and i am relatively strong mental health-wise atm and try my best not to get too bothered, some messages have been quite rude and the negativity of them have been detrimental to my own mental health and quite unhealthy in general for me to have to intake. it’s caused concern for my friends and family and i do not like that. whilst i do like to help when i can I also am hesitant as i’m no expert in anything ! if i was able to help anybody i am happy to but plz remember i am human too.

tbh it feels like ppl just hop into my anon to fight with me on a stance i have made or even just reblogged (tht usually relates to Asian issues and/or Kpop) and that close surveillance of my activity is a lil... uncomfortable. i’m aware that my activity here is public but seeing as i reblog multiple posts everyday, it’s unusual that ppl are able to keep track and pay attention to what i reblog. even i can’t keep track !

i kept my anon on for so long cause it truly felt worth it to give words of affirmation or to give advice in any way but rn it feels so unhealthy for me. especially since all i get now are discourse asks that don’t bother to even listen to me despite coming to me in my own inbox. i’ve repeated the same points over and over again and there’s no need to keep coming back if u repeatedly ignore them.

as much as i am up for debate, remember that i never asked for debate nor are u entitled to debate every little thing i say. if i were truly up for debate on a certain topic i would be reblogging discourse and inviting u to speak with me; in my inbox i am not.

i am open to criticisms (as i am wrong a lot and don’t know a lot of things) but if those criticisms do not make sense or if i put up a rebuttal in which u can’t introduce new valid points, there is no point in continuing. there’s no point of butting heads and wasting time and energy by re-explaining the same thing over and over again on both sides.

as a general psa for the future, I advise that anons anywhere refrain from casually dropping trigger words such as r*pe, or speaking of violence etc. especially when not necessary. u never know what the person behind the screen has been thru and it lacks empathy and compassion for that person’s potential experiences. u don’t know the person behind the screen and what possibly triggers them and it’s inconsiderate to so casually talk of such serious and sensitive topics.

Also refrain from saying slurs. A) You are on anon and idk who u are and if u are a part of that group to reclaim it. B) again, slurs can also have traumatic connotations. I’ve had the word “ch*nk” in my inbox and despite the fact I’ve never been hit with it myself, it’s insensitive to go around dropping slurs, even with an asterisk. Please don’t.

white ppl, u rlly shouldn’t be using POC as ur search engine when the google is right there. exhausting POC’s labour and time when u can and should do the work of education urself is quite exploitative. POC shouldn’t have to shoulder the responsibility of educating ppl to be anti-racist and u shouldn’t be actively putting that burden on them. again, google is free and there are multiple resources out there already written for u to learn from.

& honestly if u r white and not listening to poc on issues pertaining to them, then no matter how much social justice vocab u have picked up on to form ur own biased narratives, u r not a good ally and are the very definition of performative activism. u r willfully ignorant and should not be framing urself as “woke”.

please remember that a human is behind this screen. a human with a life, school, their own troubles and problems and their own stress. if you really don’t like me, just block me ! it’s fine ! but hopping on anon to bother a total stranger is just not productive in any way. please re-evaluate and engage in self-reflection.

& don’t lie. i can see right thru u.

ALSO ! any hate (racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia etc.) are prohibited here. do not make up scenarios to justify ur hate. do not cherry pick rare cases and pass them off as common to villainize oppressed groups. do not say bigoted things about oppressed groups. reverse racism doesn’t exist so don’t hit me with that argument either.

overall, do not feel entitled to anything from me. i don’t owe anybody on this site anything and vice versa. respect ppl please.

[helenekuraginaarc]

the great comet hélène  vs.  war and peace hélène

@carnovalesque said:  i would kill for a post where u talk about differences btw tgc helene and w&p helene

here it is! i’ve talked in passing many, many times about my displeasure with great comet’s interpretation of hélène, but i’ve only mentioned in passing my problems with it. it’s about time i actually laid out my critique and sorted out the differences! because, really, it’s not that i don’t like great comet’s hélène, it’s that it’s just... not hélène kuragina. i think dave malloy took a lot of liberties with the characterization in great comet and it often makes me wonder why he didn’t just write something completely new, like ghost quartet, instead of adapting war and peace, since it’s really so far from the original work. great comet is an incredible work, don’t get me wrong, but it’s really ingenuous to the novel and it makes it hard for me to enjoy.

now to the actual analysis. in the blockquotes i’ll summarize/quote great comet, and beneath that, without blockquotes, i’ll counteract that with the novel. here we go. under the cut because this got long as hell. i have a lot of say about my girl, alright?

“hélène is a slut. anatole’s sister, married to pierre.” — prologue.  the audience is immediately informed of this “trait” of hers and essentially is made to view her in that light for the rest of the musical. dave malloy did try to defend it by saying she’s reclaiming the term, but it is not clear enough in the slightest. additionally, she isn’t the only one to say it, the entire cast does. that one gendered slur is meant to be her defining trait, said like a fact as simple as anatole being her brother or pierre being her husband.

while it is true that hélène does have a few affairs in the novel, most notably with dolokhov and boris drubetskoy, this contrasts with the book interpretation in a couple of ways. first of all, using this as an introduction to hélène’s character goes completely against what tolstoy did. the first descriptions of hélène talk about her calmness, her embarrassment at her effect on men, even her insecurity and vulnerability. she isn’t brazen or outwardly cruel, she’s human, soft, shy. it’s only later that her flaws are revealed. “but, charlie, that’s because great comet takes place in the middle of the book, she already grew out of that!” okay, but? her reputation was still fairly unscathed. in fact, at this point, her reputation was on the uptick. relative to war and peace, great comet begins right after pierre and hélène reunite after the period of time they spent apart after the duel. she’d come out of just fine, passing any blame from the conflict with dolokhov onto pierre and painting him as a jealous, angry husband and herself as innocent in every way. and in some ways, she’s right — her affair with dolokhov is never even canonically confirmed. but more on that later. the point is, she’s still seen as kind and innocent in society, just with the added on qualities of also being charming and confident. virtually no one knows of her promiscuity.

moving right along into the second point, how can she reclaim something that hasn’t been used against her? no one is calling her a sl*t in society. she isn’t known that way at all. additionally, it is not something she would want to reclaim. if you don’t believe me, look to the end of her life. when she becomes pregnant from a man other than pierre and her affairs begin to be impossible to hide, she panics. this eventually leads to her overdosing and killing herself. i really don’t think she wants to be known like that. 

disclaimer: i’ve received a lot of flack of this in the past, so let me be clear. i have no problem with reclaiming the term! at all! women owning their sexuality is fantastic! it’s just not hélène. 

“hélène and dolokhov, arm in arm. pierre, the cuckold sits at home!” — the opera,  along with hélène and dolokhov’s flirting/obviousness in the duel. it makes it clear that hélène does not care for pierre’s opinion of her, nor that he knows she is being unfaithful. in fact, she rubs it in his face. she is completely smug about it and without shame.

now, in the novel, the duel and dolokhov and hélène’s supposed affair is closer to the beginning of their marriage, perhaps a year or two after if i remember correctly? meaning, it is the first hint at hélène’s unfaithfulness to pierre. it’s not a pattern. it’s never happened before. as previously mentioned, hélène’s reputation is still unscathed, she remains a soft-spoken and innocent girl, albeit with a newfound confidence from her marriage and rise in status. still, she very much values her marriage and bezukhov’s name and her relationship with him—not in a romantic sense, of course, but in a respectful and appreciative sense. she knows she would not be where she is without him. she knows she owes him for raising her status. she really doesn’t want to jeopardize her relationship with him, meaning if she were having an affair with dolokhov (which, again, it is never entirely confirmed, only assumed, and the reader is told of it through rumors spread at the rostov’s house) it’s highly unlikely she would be rubbing it into pierre’s face.

hélène would not be seen with dolokhov in public without pierre by her side, fearing for her reputation and the opinions/assumptions of others, however right they are. in canon, she goes as far as to express her displeasure at dolokhov staying with them and makes it seem to pierre as if she despises dolokhov. it is dolokhov’s actions entirely, alluding to himself being hélène’s lover, that sets pierre off. hélène does everything to hide it. it is important to note that the attention and admiration from society is hélène’s only source of validation, not being shown love from her family or pierre and only being wanted by lovers for sex and status. she does whatever possible to keep the false sense of love she receives from society. she tries this with pierre at first, but it becomes impossible for her to keep up, as the image of herself she displays in public is so different from the deeply troubling and angry truth of her mindset.

“keep drinking, old man [...] god, to think i married a man like you!” — the duel,  showing hélène’s contempt for pierre and making it clear that she doesn’t care about hiding how she feels about him. she feels ashamed to be married to him and tells him directly.  “he will kill you, stupid husband!” — also from the duel, showing that she exhibits the tiniest bit of worry for pierre, but mainly showing that she thinks he’s a fool for engaging in the duel at all.

as i previously mentioned, hélène doesn’t show her dislike of pierre outwardly at any time in the novel. throughout their marriage, while it’s clear she showed hostility towards him and commented on his way of life and certain things he did, she never makes it seem as if she does not appreciate him or what he’s done for her. she knows he’s a good husband to her, even that he’s a good man. it isn’t really him that causes her dislike of him, it’s the fact that she’s married to a man she never wanted to be married to. both pierre and hélène were completely shoved into the marriage by hélène’s father, prince vassily. neither wanted this, but they make their peace with it, even if it leads to a cycle of anger and depression and avoidance. but, all in all, the two do not fight. when things go wrong, they separate and don’t see each other, which is... rather mature for how dramatic they both can be. give them some credit, dave!

now, on the latter quote, hélène doesn’t even find out about the duel until after it takes place. it is only then that she approaches him and tells him he’s foolish. again, she tells him how he only merely assumed that she was having an affair. it’s then that he suggests that they part and hélène merely states in her own cruel, teasing way that she wouldn’t mind in the slightest. that is the point where he threatens her life, throwing a marble slab at her and literally shouting “i’ll kill you!” at her. but, in great comet, we are never shown his violence towards her, only her offhand cruelty to him. hmmm, interesting. i’m not excusing her actions in the slightest, but it seems like a bit of a double standard, given that they rarely fought and, when they did, the majority of the anger came from him. just my onion.......

“she’s first-rate, my dear, but she’s not for you. you’d better wait ‘til she’s married.” — the duel. in this part, hélène actually shows some insight into the affair and warns her brother of the consequences. the quip about waiting until she’s married is supposedly meant to allude to her own affair taking place during her marriage.

this actually gives hélène credit where it ....... is not due. this line is originally from dolokhov in the novel. the kuragin siblings share the same amount of intelligence—which is, not much. hélène seems to understand the way things go a little more than anatole, simply because, as a woman, things have been harder for her, but in reality she wouldn’t have this kind of insight. she rushes into things as quality as anatole does, only having brief thoughts of their outcomes, often thinking in bias of her desired result. the line makes much more sense coming from dolokhov, who says in the novel that girls like natasha aren’t for them, not just for anatole. the quip about affairs during marriage even makes more sense, given his experience with hélène. with married women, there is no chance of anything coming of it more than they want to, if you catch my drift.

i’ve seen someone say that they could have given this line to hélène to add in that she doesn’t want anatole to go after natasha because she wants him to remain loyal to her, which is? frankly disgusting. don’t ship incest, kids. not to mention, the incestuous relationship between them assumed in many adaptions is? not canon at all? again, there’s mentioned rumors, but that’s just nineteenth century for you. with the siblings’ reliance on each other and their flirtatious nature with others, people will come to their own, in this instance incorrect, assumptions. not to mention, these rumors are taken from pierre’s perspective as he attempts to convince himself not to marry hélène, so, uh? it’s biased. hélène and anatole were not in love. they loved each other as siblings do. as family does. that is it. in fact, their closeness at all was likely a result of their parents harsh/abusive nature, so... don’t. thanks. they’re just siblings

hélène’s pronunciation of “charmante” in charming is purposefully incorrect. from dave’s genius annotations, it states that it was originally just his mistake, but turned into being kept because, in his words: “hélène is bit of a dilettante, and it’s actually kind of hilarious to me that she is so confidently butchering the french in the chorus of her big song, so… in the end this works for me!“

it’s true, hélène is really unintelligent, but! she’s honestly not bad at french. there’s only a handful of skills she’s listed at having in the novel, two of the most notable being her french and her ability to dance. her only fault in french is that she speaks with a “coarse precision of speech,” having basically no correct intonation. she speaks the words correctly and can speak fairly fluently, but just speaks incredibly monotonously. this one isn’t really a big deal, i just think it would’ve been interesting for dave malloy to show her unintelligence in another way, rather than something she’s canonically alright at! though, i guess, a charming where she speaks the french monotonously might not have the same comedic effect as pronouncing it entirely incorrectly. it’s whatever. just a difference to note. there were still probably better and funnier ways to show her ignorance/unintelligence.

the rest of charming is pretty much directly from the text level accurate. it could be gayer, as it seems to take a “oh she’s only manipulating natasha” angle, when tolstoy does make a point in the novel to point out hélène’s genuine adoration for natasha. while i do think a part of it was only to help her brother, the book makes it seem as if there’s a very real possibility that part of hélène’s motivation was selfish and in order to be around natasha herself. essentially, the book makes it way gayer

the hélène/marya dmitrievna kiss, taking place in balaga, as part of the wild and dissociative imagery of the scene, probably for some wlw fan service and ??? other reasons i honestly have no idea what they were trying to do by putting this in

as shown by a line that even makes an appearance in the musical, marya dmitrievna does not like hélène in the slightest. she scolds natasha for being around her and advises heavily against it. being, well, the iconic marya dmitrievna, she sees right through hélène’s act—or, more accurate, she sees what pierre sees her for. she knows she is dishonest and fakes her personality and that’s enough for marya to dislike her and not trust her nor her intentions. not to mention, while they’re played by actresses around the same age in the musical, in canon hélène is around 26-27 at this point, while marya dmitrievna is in her 50′s to 60′s. that’s like. a twenty to thirty year age difference. it makes me highly uncomfortable and also makes no sense. i get it’s all about the wildness™ of the scene itself, but it would’ve made much more sense to have hélène and natasha kiss at this point, imo, having her “stand in” for anatole while he kisses dolokhov. that woulda been ideal and still get the same results that i think dave was goin for?

“ah, pierre, sweet husband, you don’t know what a plight our anatole has had!” — find anatole. this is a dramatic shift from earlier, during the duel, when she called him “stupid husband” and was cruel to him. it’s, i guess, meant to symbolize how quickly she is willing to manipulate him when she wants something, like the safety of her brother.

i’ve already commented on hélène’s treatment of pierre, so i’ll just reiterate that the shift shouldn’t be so dramatic. in reality, she is usually like this, acting kind and gentle towards him and attempting to keep him happy with her. it’s very rare that she shows her frustration towards him, that’s too honest for her. she’s usually all manipulation and falseness which, y’know, isn’t good, but she doesn’t do so out of cruelty, only insecurity and paranoia. still, not good. 

other than that, which is really just a problem with the earlier lines in the duel rather than anything about this line, i really love this part. what makes it a difference is what malloy didn’t add in. in the annotations, he mentions almost adding a line about her retracting after his reaction, knowing not to anger him because she’d seen his anger firsthand and GOD do i wish he’d kept that in! in canon, she becomes very meek and quiet and does not go against him any further. this shows his effect on her and how scared she becomes of him. it balances the scale again and shows that the cruelty here is not one-sided. pierre has tried to hurt hélène before. she knows he is capable of hurting her and it scares her. it’s also a humanizing moment, taking her down from her ever-confident state. if pierre’s able to give that reaction just with an angry tone and a throwaway insult towards her? what does that say about him? about her?

well, that’s it! a tl;dr version would be — the great comet of hélène reduces her to a trope, in my opinion. she loses her complexity. in the novel she is soft, but angry. she seems confident, but she’s insecure. she hungers for love and seeks it in affairs, looking for any kind of validation or adoration she can get, but trying her best to keep her desperation a secret. just for her. great comet hélène feels boring in comparison. she’s the evil seductress alto we’ve seen a million times before. there’s none of the originality that tolstoy gave her. don’t get me wrong, i hate that son of a bitch tolstoy, but? he knew how to write complex women. he made hélène into a real, complex character and i love her too much to really accept what malloy wrote her into.

but anyways i also love amber gray and would die for her and would kill to see what she’d do with a novel accurate hélène. it’d make me die for sure i love her

[sameoldsin]

I’m asking u this BC I’ve seen u post about it before, but what is a he/him lesbian? Like ok I get that it’s a lesbian that goes by he/him, but I’ve seen translesbians using it and I don’t get it? Why would a trans lesbian want to be aligned with men? I can understand a they/them lesbian but? I’m so confused

I mean this is like too complex for me, a cis lesbian who doesn't use he/him pronouns, to explain properly. It's probably to do with how lesbians sorta inherently defy expectations for women and wanting to reclaim that. Also it might just be the pronouns they're most comfortable with with no like deeper meaning. Also gender is less rigid now, in some communities at least, and it's weird to be so opposed to women (especially lesbians) finding ways to be comfortable as a woman when a lot of what "womanhood" traditionally is is so restrictive, confusing and difficult. Like hating women and threatening them with violence cause they're "doing gender wrong" isnt anything new... And as for trans lesbians (maybe just a mistake on your part but do put a space between the two words) they are women and lesbians and so can experiment with gender presentation in the same ways that cis lesbians can. This is just stuff I've picked up on and I can't claim to know the actual reasons anyone uses "unconventional" pronouns so correct me if I'm wrong about anything.

[fiftycucks-blog]

Fifty Grand & Distance Decay Discuss Antifa and Freedom of Speech

DISTANCE DECAY ok let's un pack this -

FIFTY GRAND It’s easy. I don’t support what antifa is doing Especially last night Gross and embarrassing Bunch of privileged college students breaking shit Then going back to the privacy of their homes And chillin maybe play some video games Nothing revolutionary Sorry Not fixing anything Not helping anyone Protesting milo yiannapoulous of all people It's a sad time for the left If this was coming from the right you damn well know you’d condemn it DISTANCE DECAY other people have opinions too - u can be anti violence urself but to not understand why people would oppose fascism with violence is what i'm not understanding - i believe u said on ur own facebook something about those complicit in the holocaust FIFTY GRAND But dude Milo isn't a fascist Come on This is bad If you can prove to me That milo is a fascist I’ll fall back Forever

DISTANCE DECAY ummm are you speaking for me now? u don't kno my politics - so let's not assume and ask eachother questions the tweet u quoted wasn't about milo it was about anti fascism FIFTY GRAND Right But who destroyed property and hurt people last night Innocent people Antifa So I'm trying to understand Why you think that's ok We aren't talking about literal Nazis

DISTANCE DECAY 1. i believe there's reports of yianopolos supporters and antifa 2. i'm personally not for violence where in do i say i'm okay with what happened last night again the tweet was about anti fascism FIFTY GRAND I'm talking about Milo tho Not his supporters DISTANCE DECAY and i thought we agreed not to assume? i'm all for talking here, ur feelings are valid i don't want u to feel as if they're not FIFTY GRAND I'm just responding to you DISTANCE DECAY i could just as easily say i'm speaking of anti fascism as an ideology not those who carry it out FIFTY GRAND You and I both know what the original tweet refers to Antifa The org And to go back to your original question I'm not neutral or pro DISTANCE DECAY are you pulling tribalism on me? FIFTY GRAND The fuck lmao ?? DISTANCE DECAY i just woke up - i mean this sincerely the "you and i both" confused me to the tweet earlier - i saw the police language tweet - i don't want u to feel that censoring u, just showing how i feel, but i don't want u to feel unvalidated in ur feelings either FIFTY GRAND No I get that. But like. If I wanna say the word cuck I can I'm not politically correct I don't feel the need to be Besides you keep bringing that up, did you not even see who I was responding to that day? Someone who was attacking my character and music as a comeback Yea I shut them down And I don't care It wasn't discourse DISTANCE DECAY yeah u can,  and i've seen u use it other times also on facebook but still i'm not gonna tell u what u can or can not say just so i can understand this we agree people can say what they want - correct? but i don't think that means freedom of consequences from that speech i.e. someone responding to u - which is very different from censorship FIFTY GRAND Let me ask you something What do you think was accomplished last night DISTANCE DECAY honestly - i just woke up so i don't kno the full extent of what happened, outside of the quick search i made when milo kept being brought up so i think that brings us to our earlier point - antifa destruction of property caused harm to innocent people, milos followers emboldened by his speeches brought harm intentionally to those whose identities they feel have no place FIFTY GRAND Ok I see where we disagree I don't believe that speech is oppressive I used to But I don't anymore He has the right to his speech Which is just about feminism and men's rights , sometimes Islam If you listened to his speeches you'd see it's pretty clear he's just a gay Jew supporting free speech on college campuses DISTANCE DECAY i don't think i said the speech was oppressive however i think that to say it's unequivocally not would be against a very common definition of the word - mental stress or despair - as well as not taking into account the way it can spread and be internalized thru socially learned behaviors - and that humans are creatures of socialization - i think u like psychology so think genie, victor FIFTY GRAND Ok true, I think words can be used as violence, psychologically But I think oppression is more systematic DISTANCE DECAY i think defining our terms is always helpful - i do believe systemic oppression is real and bad - so i think ignoring the psychological aspect would be a disservice to how social organization is formed - given that humans run these systems, learn and reproduce these oppressive values from other humans falls chimed in a lil here -milo and his supporters can arguably represent a cultural shift that has happened in the us in the right-wing (i.e. altright). it's fair to say that this shift is also part of the reason trump was elected, as he was championed by the altright. basically: at what point does this ideology and rhetoric stop being systemic when the elected president is  espousing the same type of rhetoric? isn't that the definition of systemic?

i also believe language plays a huge role in shaping culture tho i am a descriptivist at heart 😋 FIFTY GRAND Not everyone who supports trump is alt-right tho. In fact it's majority rust belt people, poor people who hate the establishment. The alt right is a fringe movement and you're only seeing that because the media is blasting it everywhere And I see you co-signing tweets about me being a victim but you've totally ignored the fact that hella people ARE coming at me And bet you wouldn't even publically denounce me being called a Nazi Ur totally silent there And I find that incredibly problematic If you believe language can shape culture why are you okay with throwing the labels fascist and Nazis round so freely? Because now it just means anyone who disagrees with you Trump was not elected by the alt right Half of America is not the alt right Trust me You're a very smart person, how can you not see the irony in what Antifa is doing? How is it you can bend over backwards to justify it all You know it's only going to get worse People will be harmed Innocent people Every time I tweet on my own platform you see how people react. It is not unfair to assume that I might be subject to violence in the near future But this is the climate you support DISTANCE DECAY 1. i think falls said part of 2. wouldn't that be antithetical to ur argument in free speech ? 3. how far does free speech absolutism go for you? in so far as it hurts your feelings? 4. i think it is a problem when people going throwing these things leading to witch hunts etc, as it is to make generalizations about islam, referring to this as an isolated incident etc. 5. no where do i define it as anyone who disagrees with me - i believe the examples i gave lend itself more to those who are white nationalists 6. half of america may not be alt right but that doesn't change that they champion him nor that bannon is in the white house

i don't believe you are actually a nazi or a fascist, however as much as this might make u go "language police!" i think the language u use is irresponsible - as u have people in ur mentions coming at u i had people in mine from our last convo about islam telling me how muslims do not have a right to exist coming at me - i care about u and i'm sorry i hurt ur feelings - i think maybe there's a lack of linear thinking going on here and i'm having an issue proving my point without indulging in ur methods - which ultimately is antithetical to my own but i'm at a loss for getting it across with my words so i'm trying ur method FIFTY GRAND What language of mine is irresponsible? And what are my methods Lol All I have done is talked Used my words And I'm not understanding the free speech absolutism thing. It's actually your belief that if feelings are hurt we should silence Not mine. It seems very shallow to think that changing language will do anything to rectify deep seated beliefs DISTANCE DECAY ur method of saying and doing whatever u want because "i'm not PC" - whatever that means as i find this is another statement that requires careful unpacking FIFTY GRAND Like, do you think telling people to stop saying faggot on the playground is going to stop homophobia? It will not These are deep rooted issues Speech doesn't even begin to cover And I don't say and do whatever I want to defy all that is PC I simply don't think PC culture is conducive to learning and our democratic way of life DISTANCE DECAY not cover - i don't have all the answers here but again i think language has a huge role in shaping culture - so it is a factor FIFTY GRAND Would you police me for calling myself a tranny? Cuz I do I like that word and I reclaim it DISTANCE DECAY no - again you can say what you want i thought we agreed on this earlier? FIFTY GRAND Did we? Ok DISTANCE DECAY but that doesn't mean that others won't say and do stuff as well maybe not that's why i said thought - are you arguing just to argue at this point? we can stop here maybe have a phone call sometime or go to a library FIFTY GRAND No of course I'm not haha I know it's hard to interpret And yea I'm passionate and a little worked up But I don't feel like I'm tryna argue Just lay down my fundamental beliefs DISTANCE DECAY that's ok - i feel broken honestly FIFTY GRAND Me too, and we both feel very strongly that our way is the right one So there is only so much we can say to one another We will have to agree to disagree and I'm always ok with that I think I should say-- I've been very critical of the left recently which you've noticed, and it's because it's my party and I'm seeing so much division I feel like I'm watching it all fall apart And I want to critique it in hopes that people will hear me out Because I've spent most of my time critiquing the right in the past I feel I need to turn to my own party and say what's going on guys??? Sadly I'm not sure how much I can keep doing it, people want to silence me. And I'm not trying to play victim I'm being as honest as I can be, I really do feel ostracized And sure maybe I am getting in my feels, we all are tho DISTANCE DECAY i think where i myself maybe am confused/take issue is when u publicly tweet these beliefs- there is an objective tone taken, doubled by the calling out others for bias - then you  go back editing/rewording them to something at the end after

example : take the "islam is bad argument" which is how ur words read to me and many others at first- i had a lot of people in ny mentions saying muslims should not exist - after hours u reposted ur thoughts saying using religion to justify horrific acts on people is wrong - which i think better portrays what u we're trying to say and i agree with but was not clearly articulated by the first string of tweets - and after so many with hateful thoughts found their confirmation bias already- and felt empowered and yes i think a lot of this stems from us getting emotional - which is fine we are human which i why i don't understand the triggered thing *in general * not with you and i think it's great to critique the left ! but i think your thoughts don't come clearly out at first - like so personally when u tweeted how is no one critiquing obama on immigration? - my twitter is full of leftist who criticized obama and personally i know of and know those who were deeply affected by ICE etc - again i think it's just the words we use maybe confuse us

FIFTY GRAND Yeah that's totally a fair critique of my tweets, I concede I need to do better DISTANCE DECAY we all do sorry that was so scatter brained the immigration policy under him really hit close to home - and it hit a weird thing bc getting rid of these binary thoughts/looking at life as grey - sad/anxious DT is coming to office but still not wanting to silence those who really suffered as a result under him - i couldn't find the words FIFTY GRAND I tweet my beliefs and I try to engage w those who disagree to a degree but  also I don't wanna reinforce stuff I don't agree with, so I shouldn't act like I'm so diplomatic lol cuz I'm not DISTANCE DECAY yes i feel u - and finding the perfect words in 140 characters or less is very difficult - but given the current climate is so important FIFTY GRAND Right. But at the same time Usually something will upset me so I tweet about it, ppl inevitably disagree and then it helps me, by the end of the "rant" usually my stance changes a little or at least opens itself to others But I start out hella strong And that's probably not the best way Something that upsets me tho is that the narrative seems to be that bc I don't support the violence, that I'm automatically the opposition And thats a rough one to me DISTANCE DECAY i don't have the answers :/ personally vulnerability has been the strongest key for me learning FIFTY GRAND It does make me angry but I think before that it makes me a bit sad and fearful. Anger is just my cover up DISTANCE DECAY i think it reads that way bc you haven't spoken on other issues in a long time - which can lead to confusion or assumption - and granted left is your party this is twitter and people don't kno that

simple explicit statements grounded in reflectivity and reflexivity - subjectivity of language taken in account - is very hard for me :/ FIFTY GRAND Very true This might sound weird but is there any way I can like, transcribe this convo and maybe share it? Cool if not , it definitely sounds odd to ask DISTANCE DECAY and yeah that's fine thank you for asking FIFTY GRAND I won't alter it in any way unless there's something you'd want me to omit. DISTANCE DECAY umm i think it's good to go idk throw me 2 the lions *joke* ^^ FIFTY GRAND 😂

[820poetics]

Connecting Through Memory

“Trees remember and will whisper remembrances in your ear, if you stay still and listen”. (Alexander, p. 263).

In M. Jacqui Alexander’s (2005) Pedagogies of Crossing she said, “What is so unbearable that we even forget that we have forgotten?” (p. 277).  Often my own memories and experiences are too painful for me to process and I have chosen to forget these instances.  However, as new chapters in my life unfold, these experiences tend to spill in ways I did anticipate (Gumbs et al., 2016).  Memories of our past are at times too painful to want to remember.  In order to heal, I must seek to find truth from my past and myself.  Therefore, through this reflection, I attempt to understand and unpack my pain.  Prior to actively becoming a woman of color, I first needed to remember my history and my experience.  The purpose of this reading response is to reflect on my own experiences dealing with emotional and psychological abuse.  Both of which I cannot offer “concrete evidence” only my voice.  As I am beginning to trust my own narrative, my own memory, and my story, I begin my reflection by unpacking intangible weapons and the influence these weapons hold to conceal truth and attempt to delegitimize our truths.

Intangible Weapons

When one thinks of weapons that inflict pain, one might consider a gun or a knife.  However, I also consider weapons those that cause psychological or emotional abuse.  Throughout the readings, I read women of color experiencing gendered and racialized violence as such presented in Jones’s (1975) text, CoRregidora, which captures women’s experiences on sexual, physical, and emotional abuse.  Reading these texts brought painful memories of when I witnessed and experienced psychological and emotional trauma.  When I first began to recall these memories I would question myself of whether or not they truly happened, whether or not what I was experiencing was abuse. This questioning of one’s self is part of the oppressor’s way to minimize or silence our pain.  At times, the oppressor or the abuser will hide all the evidence and as time passes the abused or one oppressed is left to wonder whether it was real, leaving me to question my own voice.  Although my memory might fade, my consciousness and psychological and emotional wounds remain.  The use of intangible weapons as a form of oppression is evident in Jones (1975) CoRregidora.  For instance, when her grandmother tells Ursa that “They can burn the papers but they can’t burn conscious, Ursa.  And that’s what makes the evidence” (Jones, 1975, p. 22).  In this quote, Ursa is being told a story about her grandmother’s lived experiences.  The pain carried from my own mother, although hardly spoken, lives in my consciousness.  Even though psychological and emotional trauma leaves less “tangible” evidence such as documentation, the trauma remains in my consciousness.  I am left to wonder how I can transmit the evidence of being harmed by intangible weapons to others, and I came to conclude my evidence can be shared not only by trusting my own voice but by sharing my experiences in my work.

Ancestral Knowledge

This summer, at the sound of a loud bang to a table, I froze in fear, I was sent to a memory I felt was not my own but I felt the pain.  I called my mother to ask if she had experienced trauma in her life.  She told me about the physical and emotional violence she faced and witnessed as a child.  Without knowing how to express how I felt, I was experiencing my mother’s memory passed down to my own consciousness.  

In Spillers (2003), she mentions “a common ancestral meaning” (p. 73) and having “a connection to a historical collective” (p. 77).  In my own consciousness lives ancestral knowledge and the pain from my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and so on.. live within my heart, mind and soul.  

The oppressor or abuser attempts to conceal our truth to eliminate all evidence of our painful past. For instance, in Suzack et. al.’s (2011) selections from Indigenous women and feminism, Hilden and Lee (2011) mention, “Women who have disappeared from the historical landscape because of the work of generations of non-Native historians” (p. 57).  Attempting to conceal my truth and my history is not only a sense of manipulation to erase my pain but also a loss to my connection to other women of color.  As I begin, to remember my own history and my own experiences, although painful I begin to recognize my sisters and my connection to other women of color and most importantly, I begin to heal my wounds.  Hilden and Lee (2011) mention, “To narrate these stories, to find and rearticulate the words of our peoples and reclaim their histories from the silencing blanket of white forgetfulness, we need a language that they, and others, can read and employ in their struggles for recognition and change (Hilden & Lee, p. 63).  Having the opportunity to read these narratives allowed me to remember my shared history and oppression with other women of color.  Hence, during this time I was becoming a woman of color.  I refuse to say I have become a woman of color, as I do not anticipate an arrival state, but I am practicing being a woman of color.

Becoming

Prior to this course, I thought “becoming” a woman of color was when I recognized my gendered and racial identity.  Similarly, as if someone had asked me when was the first time I realized I was a “girl” and when I realized, I was a person of color.  However, upon reading Alexander (2005), she states in order to “Become women of color, we would need to become fluent in each other’s histories, to resist and unlearn an impulse to claim….one-of-a-kind oppression” (p. 269).  Prior to this reading, I did not see the term “becoming” a woman of color, as a form of action or actively being.  This similar notion of being active and recognizing the need to connect with others is also stated in Moraga and Anzaldua’s (1981) This Bridge Called My Back a letter from Audre Lorde, she said, “Interdependency between women is the only way to the freedom which allows the “I” to “be”, not in order to be used, but in order to be creative.  There is a difference between the passive “be” and active “being” (p. 95).  Now, I consider that in order to actively “be” a woman of color I first need to remember my painful pasts and validate my own experiences as real.  Not only my own painful experiences but I also recognize the need to remember our shared memories from one another.  I now acknowledge we, women of color, have shared memories and histories.  Just as how I remembered by reading these narratives, one way to reach out to other women of color is to write my own stories, because we will recognize our ancestral pain.  As previously mentioned, the way I realized I was a woman of color was by reading these narratives in class, which I am beginning to remember our histories as a way to recognize our ancestral pain.  Alexander (2015) argues,  “We would need to disappear the idiocy of “us” and “them” and its cultural relativist underpinning , the belief that it could never happen us, so that our very consciousness would be shaped my multiple histories and events, multiple geographies, multiple identifications” (p. 265).  In conclusion, I sense this immense pressure from my oppressor to forget these painful experiences, to get over the past and being “accused of tending to the past” (Clifton, 1991).  How can one truly heal without tending to what hurts, thus needing to tend to who hurt us. As I move from and away from my past, I create space to listen, to listen to my ancestors.  And as they guide me, I share along the way. As I gather the stories even if it is through the quietest whisper, I begin to remember.

References Alexander, M. Jacqui. Pedagogies of Crossing: Meditations on Feminism, Sexual Politics, Memory, and the Sacred. Duke UP, 2005. Clifton, L. (1991). “I am accused of Tending to the Past”

Gumbs, (2016). Revolutionary Mothering

Jones, G. (1975) Corregidora. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.

Moraga, C., & Anzaldúa, G. (1981). This bridge called my back: Writings by radical women of color. Watertown, Mass: Persephone Press.

Spillers, Hortense. Black, White, and in Color: Essays on American Literature and Culture. U of Chicago, 2003.

Suzack, S. M. Huhndorf, J. Perreault, & J. Barman. Indigenous women and feminism: Politics, activism, culture (pp. 56-80). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.