#complete some sort of identity reformation

[komsomolka]

The US formulated a policy in the early 1990s on how to reform and domestically transform Russia in the image of the US (Cohen, 2001). The reforms that had been initiated by Gorbachev and further developed by Yeltsin was to be outsourced to Washington. Diplomacy between the West and Russia was primarily focused on reforming Russia as an object of security rather than engage Moscow in pan-European affairs, which fuelled a sense in Russia of having fallen under a sort of colonial tutelage. The relationship was summarised aptly by Bill Clinton in 1996: “We keep telling ol’ Boris, ‘O.K., now, here’s what you’ve got to do next—here’s some more shit for your face” (Talbott, 2007: 201). [...]

The West returned to the historical idea of having a “civilising mission” or “white Man’s burden” to tame the barbaric East, which was applied to Russia (Browning, 2003; Lehti, 1999: 28; Linklater, 2011; Zielonka, 2013). [...] Although, the new civilising mission was reconceptualised in liberal democratic language. [...] For example, the EU’s “Common Strategy of the European Union on Russia” in 1999 argued for multilateralism, yet the document did not present a joint framework and instead outlined a vast number of tasks that Russia must implement. Institutions were not used to harmonise competing interests and facilitate benign competition. Instead, institutional and diplomatic engagement is used as a tool to reward good behaviour, which is commonly defined as accepting unilateral concessions. [...]

The ideological foundation for the solidarity and identity of the collective West has completed the Othering of Russia from ethnic to ideological inferiority. The focus on an Asiatic ethnicity as the source of inferiority is largely absent after the Cold War, and when it emerges it stands awkwardly out from the mainstream narrative. There is seemingly a complete transition from ethnicity to liberal values as the West clothe all competing security interests in the language of competing values. Some exceptions do occur as for example the Estonian politician, Tiit Made, argued in 1991 that the Russian people were wild and uncivilised as Russian women had for centuries been raped by the Mongols and Tatars, which is common Russophobic rhetoric in the Baltic States (Neumann, 1998).

Russophobia: Propaganda in International Politics by Glenn Diesen.

[shini--chan]

The reader who is an country also, Dresses up very well, so she looks and act like a completely different person. She goes to the USA to spy and get informations for her country leaders, and she does an really good job, but she realize about his (America's) obsession and becomes little bit nervous around him and make mistakes.

At the end he/they get she's an spy and she tries to get away, (skip little bit) they get her and when they put the wig of and he sees that's actually her.

What would happens after that?

(I'm sorry when it's to long or Grammatically makes no sense (English is not my fist language) 😅

I just had an idea, love you're writing btw💞)

I'll adapt it a bit further to suit my needs, make it a human instead of a country reader

Yandere America - Naughty Little Girl

Trigger warnings: emotional abuse, stalking, isolation, implied torture and rape

Two options would come to mind here. The first would be that he would have already know of you and taken a slight interest in you. Chances are that he would already be asking around about you and gouging your character and mettle. Alfred would start making moves, poking and prodding to chart what course he should take when you would abruptly disappear. Alfred would be irate and frantic and probably not really notice the strange new person that entered his life shortly afterwards. 

America would be too obsessed with finding you, with rescuing you from whoever had kidnapped you to notice that you would be right there under his nose, albeit in disguise. Most of the time, he would be daydreaming and simultaneously worrying about you being in peril and needing him to save you. Fantasy of preventing you from being sacrificed by occultists, of saving you from obsessive tyrants, of rescuing you from mad scientists would speed through his head and make him jittery. 

He would go chasing after any sign of you, and likely land in a dead end. Chances are though that he would catch onto your new career in intelligence through these roundabout investigations. Upon uncovering you he would be torn between delight and anger. Delight, because you would have been so close the entire time. Should you be sly and clever enough, then you could capitalise on that to nurture delusions of you wanting him in your own way and just being too shy to really come forward about it. And of being hindered in declaring your everlasting love by evil-doers. 

Should you fail on that front, however, then his wrath would come forward. How dare you move against him? Alfred would fly into a rage that he would make you feel - you would be an evil-doer that would have to be redeemed and reformed in order to become perfect for him. 

Likewise, he would be irate would he know not of you beforehand. You would be a curious and tantisiling thing that would enter his life at the most opportune moment. Perhaps it would even be your task to seduce him as part of a honey pot trap or just in order to coax secrets out of him yourself. Either way, he would slowly be drawn to you, enchanted by you. Your plans would backfire, when he would start seeing you more as a possession than a confidant. 

One your true identity, appearance and purpose would be uncovered, then he would lock you away for the longest time in order to “show you the light”. There would be a lot of self doubt on his side in this case, since he would be disgusted with himself for falling for the enemy. With Alfred being Alfred, he would probably soon convince himself that your relationship would be some sort of James Bond-esque romance and that he can make you turn to his side through mind-blowing sex the power of love. The very hideous power of love mind you. 

“You know, being a personification like me wouldn't have saved you. Really, you are very lucky that I am a personification, and that you are a human”, Alfred mused.  When he redirected his gaze back to you, he caught you baleful glaring at him for a moment. Noticing his attention, you then softened your features and lowered yourself until only your eyes were peering over the rim of the bathtub. If you weren't just so cute when you were angry, then he would've reprimanded you for your attitude.  “Really? I would have preferred the security that being a nation would’ve given me”, you remarked, your voice somewhat muffled by the porcelain.  You still had such a mouth on you, and god damn him because that was one of your features that he loved and hated about you. At the moment, you had pressed yourself against the tub wall and graciously covered the water you were taking up with foam.  It was supposed to be a treat for you, since you had been behaving so well as of late. Your English had even gotten a more proper American accent to it. The bubble bath was also supposed to be a treat for him, with how he had soldiered through all your prior tantrums. The thought of nothing but foam clinging to your dips and curves made his mouth water and he had to force himself to not linger on that mental image least too much of his blood rush south.   He wouldn’t have had to imagine it if you would just wash like a normal human being.  “Right up until I would have caught you on your first day, due to being able to sense if it is a nation or a human that I’m looking in the eye”, he flippantly remarked. “Would have made some things easier though. Like punishing you - could just hack off a limb or carve out some flesh to teach you a lesson. There wouldn’t have been the danger of making you ugly, since you could have just regrown those body parts.” You ducked until only your scalp was visbile. There really wasn’t any reason for you to act so shy. He had seen everything, between impromptu strip searches and everything else.

[magnetothemagnificent]

Hi, sorry to bother you, but you seem like you have some personal experience with my sort of situation.

My mom’s side of the family is Jewish. My mom converted to Christianity before I was born and married my goyishe dad, but she still considered herself Jewish and raised me and my siblings with Jewish culture and holidays. I also grew up very close with my Nana and was always interested in my Jewish heritage, but as I grew up I felt very torn between the different parts of my upbringing. I don’t know how to reconcile the Jewish and Christian parts of my identity. I can’t separate myself from my Jewishness and I don’t want to, but I feel like no matter what I do I’ll be wrong. My two older (half) siblings rejected Christianity when they grew up and it broke their relationship with my dad. I want to reconnect more with the Jewish community and participate more fully in my culture, but I can’t abandon Christianity. I feel like I’m balancing on a line and I can’t step over one way or the other. I love my Grandparents who are not, and will never be, Christian. I love my dad who is not, and will never be, Jewish. And I’m stuck in a difficult and painful place as both. I wish things were simpler.

Oof, anon, I wish I had an easy answer for you. It's true, I have a bit of experience with this, though not to the extent you do in that I never had to choose between Judaism and Christianity. My father did, though, and I know it couldn't have been easy.

For context: My dad's mother converted to Christianity before he was born and raised him Christian but with still the knowledge of his Jewish identity- he knew his grandparents were Jewish, knew his mother's extended family got together for Passover, and knew he was the target of antisemitism. It wasn't until he was a teenager that he reconnected fully with his Judaism and gave up Christianity.

I can't tell you what to do, and I don't know you personally, either, and what's best for one person might not be best for another. It sounds like you love both sides of your family, and both sides of yourself, and it's terrible that you're in a position where you feel like you have to choose.

Here's what I can tell you: If your mother was born Jewish to a Jewish mother, according to Orthodox and Conservative Judaism, you are 100% Jewish. If you were raised with a Jewish identity, as far as I know, you would also be considered Jewish by Reform standards. (Anyone more well versed in Reform Jewish theology please correct me). I don't know if you were baptized or what Christian denomination you were raised in, so I don't know where you would stand on the Christian side of things.

I think the best thing for you to do is to talk to your maternal grandparents, your mother, your father, and a faith leader from both Judaism and Christianity. Maybe your maternal grandparents' Rabbi and your father's pastor or priest. I think theologically you should think about whether your love of Christianity comes from a love of Christianity as a theology, or from a love of your father and your relationship with him. And if it ends up that you truly have a love of Christianity as a theology, and you feel like it's the most meaningful way for you to be spiritual, then that's your choice. But if you find that your connection to Christianity is really more rooted in your connection to your father, but not out of a deep conviction in its tenets, then Christianity might not be for you. And if you decide to not be Christian, then you can communicate with your father that you still love him, and can still have a relationship with him, but without practicing the same religion as him.

I know my father left Christianity completely, but his parents are still very much present in his and our lives. We see each other multiple times a year, and come together to celebrate Thanksgiving because it's an easy common ground. I'm very close with my paternal grandparents, and call my paternal grandmother at least once a week. You may decide to still celebrate Christian holidays with your father even if you decide you're no longer Christian- plenty of people do that, especially because mixed families are becoming increasingly more common.

And if you decide to be Christian, but still want to engage with the Jewish community, you can still do that. It's your heritage. As long as you're respectful of Jewish religious practices and aren't trying to syncretize them with Christianity, you would be more than welcome at my Shabbat table.

Ultimately, it's up to you to figure out what's best for you, but you should make your choice based on what you feel is best, not out of any external pressures. And anyone else who has been in a similar situation, please share your experiences and advice in the notes (though remember that every person is different and to share things as suggestions and not definitive answers).

[andiv3r]

I'm curious, what is it about stancest that you like?

Ohhg okay, so there's A Lot. Click at your own risk, thoughts on the ship and many reasons I "like" it (find it useful as a narrative tool & fun to play with) under the cut.

I think the main appeal is that there is a formerly strained bond being repaired, and watching them grow close again in their old age is beautiful no matter how you view their relationship¹. I like to explore concepts with stancest that I can't explore with other ships², such as Bill's control and manipulation affecting what could have otherwise been a nice reunion, shared unrevealed feelings being why they both pushed one another away more than necessary in the time right before the portal incident ("for his own good," they both think), or just-through-the-portal Ford meeting a version of mullet Stan while in another dimension (also works for Portaled Stanley AUs meeting another version of Stanford), realising just how bad Stan had it, and (believing there is very little chance of him ever finding his way back home), deciding to take care of this version of his brother where he didn't for the one he knew.

If you're thinking, "Hey... some of those work just fine without making it stancest. You could keep their relationship platonic/familial and still use those concepts," then you're right! I could! Sometimes I even do! But...

I have no reason to restrict the sort of thing I write when the potential for a different dynamic between these characters, as well as being able to explore facets of my own identity through them, appeals to me³. I enjoy looking at the concept of an aromantic alloalterous demisexual and autosexual Ford and playing through how those identities would impact how he sees Stan⁴.

I am also fond of speculating about their time at sea, and what the healing of their relationship would entail. Stan's memory loss (which I think still affects him somewhat, in the form of gaps where certain memories haven't fully reformed or are hazy) would undoubtedly affect things, as would Ford's guilt for "causing" it. There's potential for Stan recovering traumatising memories and Ford both helping him work through that and learning about some of them for the first time - having to learn in the worst possible way that Stan has been through infinitely more than he thought. There is an extremely compelling dynamic here regardless of the nature of their relationship, but I'm a sucker for old queers and lifelong mutual pining that's finally come to a resolution, so putting that era of their life through a stancest filter was inevitable and brings me the most joy.

So, yeah. I dunno, there's just a lot you can do with it and a lot that's already there to build from.

¹Purely familial? Hell yeah, there's lots to work with there and that used to be my favourite way to see them! Romantic? Adds an extra layer to all the ways you could interpret their actions (and therefore all the ways you could add angst), love it lots. Secret third thing? I Am Gnawing At The Bars Of My Enclosure, You Have No Idea How Much I Love Viewing Them As Secret Third Thing. Secret Third Thing can mean so much, there is so much to work with there. It can mean "I love you more than anyone else but it's not romantic but I still feel guilty over how deeply I love you because I'm not supposed to feel like this, you're my brother." It can mean "Whenever I envisioned 'settling down' and 'starting a family' I couldn't make myself see a romantic partner... I could only ever see us out at sea." It can mean "You are my other half. I don't know what we are but I know that you complete me." It can mean so, so much.

²Fiddauthor or portalcule would suffice in some cases, but not all of them... and to be honest, I don't want to settle for something that would just suffice. If it would hit harder emotionally as stancest than it would as fiddauthor, then I'm making it a stancest and not fiddauthor.

³I like to explore ideas of gender/sexuality/romantic orientations as a way to work through how I view my own aromanticism. Stanford is a heavily aromantic-coded character, and Stanley can be viewed through an aromantic lens (which is a headcanon for him that I hold dear).

⁴How would his being autosexual affect the physical aspect of his attraction? How would being demisexual impact him, what with Stan being the person he's closest to and knows best out of anyone in the world? How would his lack of romantic attraction impact that relationship? Would it make him feel more or less guilty for his feelings? Would he even notice they weren't romantic, or would he assume romantic, sexual and alterous attraction were all the same? Would his guilt from his feelings (because god knows he'd have that guilt) stem from some place of societally ingrained morals, or would he, as he so often in canon does, shun society's ideas for how he should act... and in that case only feel guilty for having what he assumes is unwanted and unreciprocated attraction toward someone who would be disgusted at him for it? Or would he maybe ignore the guilt, his attention centred on the fact that this attraction, or these feelings, or this attachment, makes him an anomaly, a freak, just like he was always told he was for his physical differences?

[the-autumn-apple-artworks]

౨ৎ. Watch me selfship with myself /J/SILLY

OK GUYS;;; I MIGHT'VE GOTTEN;;; A LITTLE SILLY;;;

This started as a kinsona, and remained as such, HOWEVER it ended up with me using him to selfship with Ivrig, the kin in question,,,

Is this self-love????? I guess????? Yeahhhh whatever here, have a bunch of homosexual cabinets <3333

IN ADDITION !!! LORE !!!! UNDER THE CUT !!!

It's very very long so have a good read I guess </333 I put much passion into the homosexuals /silly

CW: mutilation, murder, transphobia, religious trauma

This is how his document would look like after he's scheduled for hacking:

NAME: Doe Santomassimo SEX: Female, although undergoes a masculine identity AGE: 20 HEIGHT: 170cm WEIGHT: 60kg

"A university student. No other instances of criminal record. Charged with mutilation and public exposition of corpses, and murder, shortly after the incident of a previous reformation target known as Yamamura. Found to be a BUG owner through scanning."

Doe is an Italian deer-folk, that's why I chose Santomassimo (can be translated into "Great Saint") as his surname, I just picked one of the most common surnames in my small town cuz ofc I wouldn't use mine even if I wanted to HJDHSDFJSFH

The reason why there isn't an actual birthname listed like for Ivrig still having "Kosuke" along with his chosen name, is that lore-wise, Doe undergo a legal name change. Ivrig, instead, stood with Kosuke during the legal name change in my personal headcanon of him being actually trans. In fact, in game he is not mad that people use Kosuke for him, he is more uncomfortable when his family insists on referring to him as "Ko-chan" using a feminine and infantilizing suffix. Plus, on the documents, his sex is male, meaning he also undergo some sort of legal sex change on paper at least. That means his family accepts the fact he is trans but don't quite understand how to fully be an ally and still use the "-chan" suffix. I assume that general hatred around the LGBT folks has been greatly reduced thanks to the whole "the soul is a source code, everything is prewritten" so people had gotten more understanding of the "I was born this way" and don't see it as something harmful. Although I can still see the older folks being judgemental and always take the opportunity to assume that any sign of diversity is actually a BUG and therefore personality error

This was the case for Doe's parents. His mother was purely Catholic and strongly believed that God sent the BUGs to punish the sinners. As a consequence, Doe lived in fear that even a minuscule mistake could lead to his death, even living under his true identity

After finally getting into university, and convincing his parents to get him a house to stay in, Doe is met with a completely different mentality, everyone is much more accepting and he slowly gets out of his shell to come out as trans. However, not to his parents, at least until he is met with the opportunity to undergo a legal name change. His parents are obviously furious, but not completely against. Doe can still be a pretty feminine name, however, his parents are much more against the fact that he chose to "discard his heritage" and choose a much more standard, English name rather than his Italian birthname. Tho there was still his surname so no biggie in the end

As stated before, his surname can be translated to "Great Saint" although the heritage of said surname is not really specified to be founded by religious backgrounds, it still recalls it quite a lot

Always afraid of religion, he'd grown distant of it, never sharing such detachment to his family and pretending to still be a believer every time he would come back to his hometown during the holidays

Speaking of hometown, his family is Italian but lives in the same setting of Ivrig's. Doe ends up attending a university in the same big city as Ivrig to study design, and that's how they meet

EDIT: Ignore that I completely forgot to talk about Doe's family LOL but he also has a little sister! His mother was first a musician but had to abandon that due to having children, which made her become a music teacher instead. Doe's mother is, in fact, known for being a really good pianist and everyone expected him to take the same passion for instruments. However, that did not happen and Doe took the same path as his father, which is becoming a designer. Everyone looked down on him because they thought that art would've been just a phase and "that job wouldn't have brought him anywhere if not under a bridge". It did not help that Doe's little sister DID take the music passion and started playing all sorts of instruments. Since the little sister took the musician path that the mother couldn't take, Doe was expected to at least take the teaching path. Of course, that wasn't the case, and Doe insisted heavily to go to university and study design. After a tough battle with his parents, they finally agreed

(Post Mindhack, Doe's family becomes more supportive, realizing that MAYBE they've fucked up lol) BACK ON THE LORE TY SORGY

Doe would always go to a specific square near most of the universities' campuses. He wasn't that good with social interaction and never really made much friends to hangout with, most importantly he wasn't used to the chaotic city life, so a nice, calm space where he could sit on a lone bench and draw whoever caught his interest was his go to activity

One day, Ivrig decides to use said square as a preaching spot: everyday he would settle down there at the same hour and preach loud and proud about LAGOM. Every time, Doe was there. Ivrig's passion and his over-the-top personality caught Doe's eyes, enough to actually lend an ear and listen, signing down information as he constantly imprinted Ivrig's poses on his notebook through doodles

He found himself interested for the first time into something related to religion. It quite resonated with him. Feelings are a hassle, they're complicated, everyone expects something different from him and from the way he chooses to express himself, sometimes people make themselves unreadable and confusing as if they were doing it on purpose! He didn't like doing mental gymnastic every time! How others would hate how he struggled with feeling empathy or feeling anything at all! What if... what if he could be inorganic?

However he didn't really feel like just- going there and ASK, that was too embarrassing! Instead, he sneaked behind Ivrig, and sticked a doodle page he made for him to his metal cabinet using a magnet, running away clumsily as soon as Ivrig turned around. Now, Doe is quite recognisable anyway so, the next day, at the same hour, Ivrig started preaching again but, instead of standing still in the middle of the square, he walked around it until he could locate Doe, stopping right in front of him to ask a rhetorical question and conclude it with "Isn't that right, Notebook?" addressing Doe directly

This is what started it all, Doe couldn't really run away from that anymore and, deep down, it was his plan all along, so this time he would be forced to confront Ivrig and get into the religion

One traumatic family disowning experience later, Doe is now living in the shared households of the LAGOM House, and what do you know, it's the same one where Ivrig also lives in. Doe survives with his scholarship and part-time job money, which is more than enough considering the high sense of community and the other believers helping him out, just like they did for Ivrig. In a way, Doe became Ivrig's disciple, always going to him whenever he was in doubt

Once he reached Ivrig's rank (Shelves and the like) he also chose a cabinet. Most of the believers expected him to pick a library or anything else related to his strong passion for drawing and designing, however, Doe explained his choice saying he based himself off "functionality and affordance" rather than passion and the being easy-to-assemble. Being a student in design, he follows the rules of "affordance", which is "the characteristics or properties of an object that suggest how it can be used. It shows a user that an object can be interacted with.". The main 3 agents that can be interacted with are Buttons, Switches and Sliders/Levers, with the main 3 interactions being Push, Pull, Turn. A good object is functional if designed to be as such, following the rules of affordance. A library is static, it's just a storage. A cabinet is dynamic, it has a door, it can communicate how to use such door and can be designed in many different, artistic and yet functional ways. Moreover, he designs his own cabinet head to be perfectly functionable, removable, and with glasses incorporated. Ivrig is quite jealous of that but he would never admit that out loud HAJHDFJSH

But, most importantly, he is quite the homosexual for Ivrig, but we don't talk about that /SILLY

Just kidding, we're absolutely going to talk about the homos

Doe is absolutely crushing on Ivrig however none of the two are able to read the room, with Doe thinking that his crush on Ivrig is just him blowing his sense of admiration out of proportions, and Ivrig thinking that Doe's obvious romantic hints are just a demonstration of appreciation because he's such a great preacher

It DOESN'T HELP that, while venting/gossiping to each other about their lives, Ivrig mentions the scam incident, where he truly believed to have met the girl of his dreams. Now Doe thinks Ivrig's straight </3

Soon enough, however, Doe can't resit and, while they're alone and Ivrig is sharing some random fact he knows, he removes his cabinet and gently grabs Ivrig's hands to kiss them since- he can't kiss him due to the cabinet being wielded shut from the inside (for now <3)

Doe and Ivrig are now going through this very simple and fluffy relationship where all they do is just,,, being boyfriends and hold hands that's all <333333

THAT,,,, is,,, until Ivrig does what he does,,,,

Doe takes Ivrig's place as a preacher... however that does not last long as he cannot accept that the one he loved and that actually accepted him could've done such things without a reason. So, in order to prove his devotion to Ivrig he goes against LAGOM and recreates the exact same crime. With the difference that Doe exposes the corpses in a whole ass artistic exhibition IN THE SAME SQUARE that Ivrig used to preach in

When Doe is scheduled for hacking, Ivrig had already been dismissed, so imagine seeing your boyfriend on the news before you could have the time to meet him again after getting reformed,,,, augh,,,

Yes cuz, Ivrig DOES remember Doe, all that the BUG erased was LAGOM and his identity connected to It. There might be missing pieces, a LOT of them, but he still remembers that they were in a relationship. However, Doe... doesn't remember much of Ivrig. That is because Doe is a huge people pleaser, he is the kind of guy that is willing to do everything to receive the approval from anyone that even barely shows affection to him. His BUG's outbreak reached its peak due to his denial and desire to receive approval from the one he loved. This resulted into Doe not believing in LAGOM anymore, but also considering Ivrig a charlatan, not remembering much of him in the first place, let alone the fact that he had a relationship with him

Following the headcanon that Captain, Rookie and Unid end up becoming Ivrig's found family, Ivrig doesn't have that many problems going in and out of the HOTFIX building, skipping the security procedures cuz that's their son bitch /silly

So, Ivrig runs to Doe and is immediately struck by the terrifying "Do I know you?" statement </33333

Think that maybe Ivrig went without his cabinet (since I headcanon that after being mindhacked he gets help to remove it and modify it so that he can wear it again and take it off with ease) or left it to Miki or Captain while he waited to be able to visit Doe so he goes back to get the cabinet and wear it again and Doe is like "Ohhh aren't you like-??? That weird ass charlatan?? I followed your preaching and did that bad stuff!!"

Oh well that got worse

So like, Ivrig says "Omg no way I got reformed too I don't follow that god anyway either-!!" and Doe is NOT convinced cuz "Well if you got reformed that's another reason why I shouldn't trust you blindly!"

Ivrig is so heartbroken and asks Captain for advice cuz ofc he would that's his mom now and she's like, immediately in to help and offers to take the guard's shift and watch over Doe instead to talk to him and subtly ask about Ivrig and what he thought about him and if he remembers, which brings in the whole speech about "changing the scenery" (y'know? the same speech she gave to Doctor about change?) cuz yeah Doe is 100% valid for not wanting to listen anyone blindly anymore and become more of his own person instead of being so dependable of other's acceptance, but y'know Ivrig could still care for him nonetheless. They had BOTH changed, that's more than one reason to try again

So they talk again and they figure out that Ivrig doesn't remember shit about his time at the LAGOM House, but Doe DOES and vice versa since, during their time together, they've vented to each other so now they remember facts about the other person but not about their own lives. Even if it's very minimal they share what they remember about the other, tho Ivrig doesn't specify anything about them being together since Doe doesn't seem to remember that at all

So this time, it's IVRIG trying to send hints in the clumsiest way possible and Doe NOT catching them at all <3333

AUUGHHHH I love the gayyssssss

Ty for listening to my homosexual rambling (it will happen again) <3

[graementality]

Adding to the AU where Heart gets locked in Apathy and Mind and Soul reform into Whole without him,,

I think Whole would experience a sort of Ego-death (permanent loss of attachment to a separate sense of self/complete loss of subjective self identity).

Ego is essentially your sense of self (which is more Soul than Heart but there is also an emotional relation to it)

I feel like without his emotions/Heart, Whole would be very apathetic (ironically), and almost heartless? As in, without his theoretical heart, he wouldn't be very sympathetic, and would push away the people in his life. Which is not that differant from original cccc Whole (and CJ in The Before especially, which I'm pretending is the same person storyline-wise) but obviously it would be alot more of a detrimental situation for all four of them and effectively spark a major depressive episode.

This would also be factored in: ( @paleduck0000 's thoughts on it)

So not just complete emotionless Whole, just, fucked the hell up and all over the place.

Soul would also be affected, since he's kind of a stripped down version of Whole, I feel like the state of Heart and Mind also effect him. So having Heart locked away, rotting in Apathy for so long- an entire loop most likely- he would get a little funky to say the least.

Plot wise, I feel like it would be really interesting to make Mind the one who eventually releases Heart. At first he would enjoy finally ruling alone with Soul and having his "enemy" officially out if the picture, but it would have its cost. Everything would go to shit eventually; Soul is incapacitated in some sense and the only way to save Whole is to set Heart free. So Mind, whether sincerely or reluctantly, releases Heart of his own accord.

Heart would probably be in almost a worse state than Soul/Whole, depending on the laws of the headspace and how I envision Apathy and its effects (which I have a pretty good idea of based on the other fics I've written). But yeah probably also half dead. Fun for everyone involved!

(I'll also definitely include cane-user Soul if I write this, and other little headcanons I've had over time)

That's all for now, I'll write this one day....eventually....maybe....

[firestorm09890]

Ignoring canon for a moment. How do you think higher- human looking nobodies, their original somebodies and their re-completed somebodies should look, compared to each other? Do you have any headcanons on what makes a nobodies or their somebody look certain ways?

I like to stick pretty close to canon, so I'd say a recompleted person looks nearly identical to who they were before becoming a Nobody. Any marks they may have received as a Nobody disappear, like Axel's tattoos. This does mean I think Saïx was scarred before losing his heart. The only thing that sticks around is the effects of aging, but even that is limited. I think Nobodies only age up to a certain point and can't die of it.

I have no ideas about how Xigbar's hair came to be streaked with gray in that case, but I am attributing Dilan's hair vs Xaldin's hair to a personal choice. Xaldin is the kind of guy to go wild and have his hair up in a high ponytail and ear gauges while Dilan is... less fun.

That sounds like it clashes with my idea that greater Nobodies have a "default" appearance that their bodies will naturally try to return to if changed, but it's sort of a mindset. I believe if a greater Nobody starts to falter in their will to persist or their identity, their form might start to unravel.

Nobodies are all a few inches taller than their human counterparts. This is canon, for some reason, unless you're Lea because.... idk maybe the same reason he can still use dark corridors without being steeped in darkness while the others apparently can't. I hate this about him

Okay here's where I can break from canon a little bit. Compared to a regular human, a Nobody has skin more ashy and very smooth, probably not allowing much body hair. You can't see anything going on beneath the skin either- no visible veins, no delicate movements of muscle or bone. It's very uncanny. The eyes have no shine to them. As soon as the body reforms as a Nobody after the heart is lost, they look identical to their original counterpart, but with these strange inhuman/dead-looking features (and a few inches taller I guess). Anything they choose to do with their appearance comes after.

To me, recompletion is like unpausing the life of the heart this body originally belonged to, so the experience of being a Nobody is, for the most part, erased (physically; the heart doesn't remember but the mind does, though only for greater Nobodies. I don't think someone recompleted from a lesser Nobody would even know that they had a Nobody at all). If a Nobody regrew a heart instead of being reset back to who they were before, then they would come out the other side looking different. Maybe they gradually grow more human-looking, maybe they don't. Given that Roxas and Naminé were already special Nobodies and are in replica bodies now, I don't think we'll know. I say that like I'm not making all of this up lol

[demonjunction]

Speaking of which, some changes I've been thinking about concerning Cor and Brutus' arcs:

Some spoilers below

I don't think there's a Heavenly court case, nor is purposefully redeeming Cor to get into Heaven such a major plot point. I think Brutus does want to redeem Cor to get into Heaven at first, but as he grows as a character he realizes that isn't the only way to live, and also has the realization that Cor wouldn't be happy in Heaven unless there is some significant changes to the system.

I do think the best case scenario for Cor's character is her being the first to ascend to Heaven (at least that Heaven is actively made aware of) despite all the odds, yet still has a strong influence in Hell because she becomes Brutus' partner in making a positive change there. Although, in this case I do not think ascension is so much a thing, but rather the officials in Heaven actually have to get over themselves and be willing to invite a soul from Hell to have permanent residence in Heaven. Sort of like the process of being accepted into a school.

So I imagine we will see how this process works. Less of a court case and more of a review of Cor's character and the Heaven officials giving their opinions. I think, for Soul, with Brutus realizing how manipulative she's been, it ends up being a last hail Mary to stop Brutus from completely despising her. But also to try to get him away from Hell by sending his best friend to Heaven (which doesn't work). I imagine only Heart was really in favor of Cor being in Heaven, Body may have been slightly in favor because he trusted Brutus, but also not liking the idea of a sinner getting into Heaven (though Cor has proven himself to Body so he might be only in favor of Cor even if still skeptical, very much "She did pass my security checks, but I don't like this idea").

So it's shocking when Soul does let Cor in Heaven. Fits very well with the whole point of Cor's character, that some villain methods aren't actually evil and there are different ways to be moral. Yeah, the hero types may fight super hard to get overall approval and be allowed into Heaven to prove themselves, but Cor knew how to play the game and used his relationship with Brutus to encourage Soul to accidentally do the right thing. Cor's character arc is realizing she does not have to be everyone's cup of tea, especially when it comes to peeps who feed into purity, toxic allo, and toxic neurotypical culture.

I am unsure what becomes of the Reapers. I definitely don't want them to become "guards" in Heaven, because that kind of defeats the point. I think really they deserve to be allowed to have an identity outside of this, and let go to enjoy Heaven like regular saints. Like, it's Heaven, it's not like anyone actually needs jobs for money or anything. With Reapings no longer being a thing, and the nature of Reapers, Lyre is likely the only one who would remain loyal and still help Brutus, which would severely sting Brutus, but is a realization he needs to have.

I have been reconsidering how the Heaven reform starts, and I sort of want it to be an entire cast thing that happens after Cor and Brutus major bonding. I do think Cor starts it as Brutus' friend, with Heaven's officials realizing Cor isn't all that bad and was redemptive towards her actions on Earth ages ago, continuing them in Hell because she wasn't given a second chance and had to survive. Soul's actions towards Cor also set things into action. But, all the main cast has something to prove when it comes to how unfair the system is.

Chester was basically doing what the Reapers have done for years, but was punished for it. Tripster was punished for the life of crime he was brought in to, not the life he truly wanted to be in. Lee's "sin" could be argued as self defense. Growler just participated in the work he could get at the time and had people to look out for. Damon's sins were the result of the sexism of the time. Mel's sin is extremely negligible compared to that of their family. Queen was just doing her job while also offering victims justice in her own way. Cor had a neglectful home life and was the constant victim of bullying and unfair treatment from her peers. Not to mention being a trans woman (without realizing) yet also queer man in the 1920s to 1950s. It could be argued all of them should take responsibility for their actions and be reformed in some ways, but an eternity in Hell is definitely not what any of them deserve. Chester is happy there, but the others have had to suffer greatly for it.

I think, in this the biggest flaw of the Heaven's officials is ignorant paranoia, which fits into the whole commentary on purity culture thing very well lol. They thought they needed to take certain actions to prevent certain things from happening, even when their actions made things worse. Very similar to purity culture just serving to make people more turned on by not allowing individuals to deal with these feelings. Heaven officials also just do not understand how humans live so attribute some things as "bad" or "evil" simply because sinners do them too. Sinners really are kind of viewed as less than human. Soul letting Cor into Heaven would accidentally have the affect of the officials of Heaven considering that other sinners may also deserve to be in Heaven, and reconsidering the whole thing, cause "if Soul, the moral center of Heaven, thinks a sinner deserves to be in Heaven, that must mean we've been doing things wrong". Growler would probably be next. His family is 100% in Heaven and would advocate for him because he was literally just a bartender and not involved in the violent part of rumrunning at all, plus just trying to provide for them.

With more sinners making their way into Heaven, and saints being confused with how strictly they're treated, Heaven will also realize no one likes or benefits from their weird purity culture rules. Like, the "best of the best" think they're stupid. For instance, I've always imagined Heaven doesn't allow the public distribution of adult content and sex toys. They saw sinners using them, their only other point of reference, and were like "clearly this is perverse and wrong". Yet, because it is Heaven, of course saints can get whatever they want and privately own these things. When they realize Heavenly authorities actually didn't want them to own them at all, cause I imagine a lot of saints are very sex positive, there will be a huge push back.

All my thoughts for now, and I am pumped! Also Queen, Tripster, and Cor are starting a band and no one can stop me from making this canon lol.

[pixel7777]

Terms & Conditions Apply: Chapter 1

This is a sequel and is best enjoyed after reading Fortune Favors the Bold.

🔮🤯Astarion is busy perfecting his post-heroic routine of wine-sorting and snark—until Rhonda, his old contract-wielding fortune teller, arrives on the doorstep with a battered suitcase and a psionic threat on her heels. Now he’s juggling midnight break-ins, dangerously precise bureaucracy, and a mindflayer who’d rather rewrite his entire existence than take “no refunds” for an answer.🔮🤯

This fic is complete (5 chapters, ~14K words) and can be read in its entirety now on AO3. Chapters will be posted daily on Tumblr. Read this chapter here below the break!

Work Content Tags: Post-Canon, Astarion POV, Vampire Spawn Astarion, No Smut, Some Violence, Domestic Fluff, Buddy-Cop Energy, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Mention of Suicidal Ideation (Ch. 2 only)

Chapter 1: Terms and Conditions

Astarion flicked a duster over the top shelf of yet another bookcase, grimacing at the specs of gray that had accumulated during his daily rest. The late afternoon sun filtered through heavy curtains, leaving the house in a perpetual twilight that suited him perfectly. Five years after their victory over the Netherbrain, and he still couldn't quite believe this was his life—a proper home, filled with proper things, and a proper... well, whatever Tav was to him. Lover. Partner. Personal world.

He paused at a framed sketch on the wall—one of his own paintings of their adventuring days. The brush strokes were amateur, but Tav had insisted on displaying it anyway.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, adjusting the frame's angle for the third time that day.

The house felt empty with Tav away on some tedious diplomatic mission, though he'd never admit it aloud. Instead, he channeled his restlessness into an endless parade of chores. The floors needed sweeping. The windows wanted washing—after sunset, of course. And Tav's beloved garden would require attention once the sun dipped low enough for him to venture outside.

He moved to the kitchen, organizing their limited upstairs collection of blood vials and wine bottles—he had done the bulk of the collection, in the cellar, yesterday. The cellar storage system had become something of an obsession lately, each vintage cataloged by type, year, and donor species. Reformed vampires who visited for their dinner parties always praised his selection, though he suspected half of them were just being polite.

A quick glance at the grandfather clock confirmed he had another hour before sunset—plenty of time to deal with the linens.

A sharp, measured knock at the front door made Astarion pause in his organizing. Three precise taps, evenly spaced. Not his neighbors—they knew to leave their little offerings of wine and blood on the doorstep without announcing themselves. Not Tav, who wouldn't return for days and had a key besides.

He set down the bottle he'd been examining and moved silently to the entrance hall. Another set of three knocks, identical to the first.

Astarion opened the door, and for the first time in years, found himself genuinely startled.

"Rhonda?"

The lavender-skinned tiefling stood on his doorstep, exactly as he remembered her from that reading five years ago. Same practical brown wool dress, same no-nonsense braid, same ink-stained fingers clutching a battered leather suitcase. But something was off. Her usually impassive face bore the slightest pinch between her brows, and her ledger wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Your wards are solid. Good." She glanced over her shoulder at the street. "I require temporary sanctuary."

Astarion leaned against the doorframe, taking in the quiet street beyond Rhonda. Neat townhouses lined both sides, each with its own carefully maintained garden. The neighbors had outdone themselves this year—beds of marigolds, perfectly trimmed hedges, and climbing jasmine that perfumed the evening air. His own white roses with their pink-tinged edges wrapped around the deep porch's columns, a gift from Tav that had thrived despite his initial skepticism about gardening.

Not a soul stirred on the cobblestones. No carriages rattled past, no children played in the early evening shadows.

He remembered his first meeting with Rhonda—that whimsical tent, her matter-of-fact delivery of life-changing predictions. She'd cut through his defenses with surgical precision, laying bare hopes he'd barely admitted to himself. The memory still made him bristle, even with the benefit of years of context.

"Lovely evening," he said, deliberately casual as he blocked the doorway with his lean frame. "Though I must say, home visits weren't mentioned in your terms and conditions. I do hope you're not expanding your business model."

Rhonda's eye twitched—just slightly, but enough to send a thrill of satisfaction through him.

"Astarion." That slight pinch between her brows deepened. "This is not a social call."

"Isn't it? And here I was about to offer you tea." He smiled, making sure his fangs caught the fading light. "I'm afraid my calendar is rather full at the moment. Perhaps we could schedule something for next week? I believe I have an opening on—"

"We both know you're not only unoccupied but bored senseless without your Tav here." Rhonda's flat tone carried the same bureaucratic certainty she used when citing contract clauses. "The cards sent me. Let me in."

Astarion's fingers drummed against the doorframe. Of course she'd know about Tav's absence—she probably had it written down in one of her endless ledgers, filed between 'domestic disputes' and 'dramatic revelations.'

That final card from his reading flickered through his mind again, the one he'd refused to see. Five years of wondering what future he might have missed or avoided by leaving it face-down on her table. He could finally learn its secrets—assuming she still had record of it somewhere in the mountain of paperwork she likely had crammed into that suitcase.

"The cards sent you?" He arched an eyebrow. "How terribly mystical. I thought you charged extra for that sort of dramatic flair."

Rhonda's shoulders tensed slightly, her fingers tightening on her suitcase handle. "Section twenty-three covers emergency consultations. This qualifies."

"Does it now?" He examined his nails, fighting back a smile at her growing discomfort. "And what sort of emergency requires you to seek sanctuary with a vampire? Surely there are more... conventional options."

"Time is rather essential." The words came out clipped, her usual monotone fraying at the edges. She glanced over her shoulder again, and this time Astarion caught the slight tremor in her hands.

Well, this was becoming interesting. He'd never seen Rhonda show even a hint of genuine distress before, not even when he'd practically hissed in her face.

"Oh, very well." He stepped aside with an exaggerated flourish. "Do come in. Though I warn you—my rates for providing sanctuary are quite steep."

Rhonda hurried past him with none of her usual measured pace, clutching that suitcase like it contained all the futures in Faerûn.

Astarion ushered Rhonda into the front parlor, watching as she perched on the edge of his favorite armchair, that battered suitcase still clutched in her lap. The room reflected his particular tastes—rich fabrics in deep jewel tones, elegant furniture arranged just so, and carefully curated art pieces that spoke of cultured refinement rather than ostentatious wealth.

"Tea," he announced, more statement than offer. "I insist."

"That won't be necessary—"

"Oh, but it is." He swept toward the kitchen before she could protest further.

The familiar motions of tea preparation gave him space to think. Water in the kettle. Porcelain cups arranged on the silver tray. He selected the jasmine blend Tav had brought back from their last trip—its delicate scent reminded him of their garden.

Their garden. Their home. Their life together. Everything exactly as Rhonda had laid out in those cards five years ago. The dinner parties with reformed vampires. The neighbors who left offerings in gratitude for their heroism. Even the way Tav looked at him sometimes, like he was something precious rather than cursed.

The kettle began to steam. Astarion measured leaves with precise movements, his jaw tightening. He'd fought for this happiness, hadn't he? Killed Cazador, saved the world, chosen love over power again and again. And yet...

And yet some traitorous part of him wondered if he'd simply been following a script Rhonda had written. As if she'd handed him a map to happiness, and he'd just... walked the path she'd drawn. Did that make his choices less real? Less his?

He arranged delicate sugar cookies on a plate—not for himself, obviously, but presentation mattered. The movements were sharp, almost angry. She'd given him hope when he'd had none, true. Shown him possibilities he'd never dared imagine. But sometimes, in his darker moments, he resented how right she'd been. As if her prediction had somehow stolen the credit for his own transformation.

The water reached the perfect simmer for the delicate tea he had chosen. He poured it over the leaves, watching the color bloom. Perhaps he didn't deserve this life. Perhaps it was all some cosmic accident, a future meant for someone better that he'd stumbled into through dumb luck and borrowed prophecy.

He placed everything on the tray with carefully controlled grace, his movements betraying none of the turmoil beneath. Time to set his mixed feelings aside and face the fortune-teller who'd shown him this future—and whatever new revelations she'd brought to his door.

Astarion returned with the tea service, finding Rhonda exactly where he'd left her—perched on the edge of his favorite chair like a particularly dour bird. Her suitcase remained clutched in her lap, her knuckles white against the worn leather.

He set the tray on the low table between them and began pouring with studied elegance. The jasmine's subtle fragrance filled the air as steam curled from the delicate cups.

"Sugar?" he offered, mostly to drag the ceremony out—to make sure she understood he was in control this time.

"No, thank you." She set her suitcase down and accepted the cup and saucer with proper form, if slightly mechanical movements.

He settled into the chair opposite her, crossing one leg over the other and taking quiet satisfaction in how the tables had turned. Five years ago, she'd held court in that kitschy tent, dealing out futures like paperwork. Now she sat in his parlor, following his lead. The proper social mores were his weapon this time, not hers.

"Now then." He took a moment to appreciate the perfect tableau they made—late afternoon light softened by heavy curtains, fine china catching subtle gleams, everything arranged just so. "What brings you to my door at this hour?"

Rhonda took a careful sip of tea. "I've opened a shop in the Lower City. Proper storefront, very respectable. 'Future Management Solutions.'"

"Fascinating." He didn't bother hiding his impatience. "And?"

"Three weeks ago, a scholar came in for a reading. Called himself Nicholas Mentis." Her fingers tightened on the cup. "Except he wasn't human, and that wasn't his name. The cards showed me his true form—a mindflayer named Yr'thrix."

"Ah." Astarion's own grip on his teacup became slightly less delicate. "I trust you charged extra for the attempted deception?"

"Section four, paragraph three covers additional fees for glamours and magical disguises." She paused. "The reading... didn't go well."

Astarion watched Rhonda take another measured sip of tea, her usual bureaucratic demeanor wavering just slightly.

"Not going well is rather standard," she said, her nasal tone even flatter than usual. "Section seven clearly outlines procedures for negative readings. Refunds available within three business days, trauma counseling referrals provided as needed."

"But this was different?"

"The cards showed isolation. Permanent separation from his kind." She adjusted her cup on its saucer with mathematical precision. "Which, technically speaking, was already his reality. The reading simply confirmed no change was forthcoming."

"And I assume he took this news with perfect grace and dignity?"

"He attempted to cerebrally extract the information directly from my mind." She said it like she was reporting a minor clerical error. "Section twelve specifically prohibits psychic interference during readings, but he seemed disinclined to respect the terms and conditions."

Astarion set his cup down. "He tried to eat your brain?"

"Attempted to. The wards held." She straightened her already impeccable posture. "I issued the standard refund, naturally. But then... things began disappearing. My ledgers first—decades of predictions, all gone now. Then my business licenses vanished from city records. My landlord forgot our rental agreement." Her monotone developed the slightest tremor. "This morning, my neighbor of fifteen years walked past me without recognition. Asked the guard who that strange tiefling was, loitering in front of my shop."

She reached for her suitcase. "I checked the cards. He's systematically erasing every trace of my existence - memories and records alike. Quite efficient, really. Very organized approach to revenge."

"How bureaucratic of him," Astarion said dryly.

"Indeed." Rhonda's fingers drummed once on her suitcase. "Unfortunately, my usual protections proved insufficient. I'll have to improve them." She paused. "Assuming I continue to exist, of course."

Astarion's fingers tightened on his teacup. "He's been back, hasn't he?"

"Four times." Rhonda pulled a slim folder from her suitcase. "Each visit under a different glamour, but the cards always reveal his true nature. He demands I change the reading, or he will make me as isolated as I predicted he would be." She shuffled through several pages of neat documentation. "As if futures can be rewritten so easily."

"And when you refused?"

"He began with my most recent repeat clients." She laid out papers with her usual methodical precision. "Three merchants who sought business advice. A nobleman worried about his daughter's marriage prospects. A guard captain considering retirement." Her monotone cracked slightly. "None of them remember ever meeting me."

Something cold settled in Astarion's chest that had nothing to do with his undead nature. "Your clients. All of them?"

"Working backwards through my ledgers." Rhonda's fingers traced down a list of names. "He's quite systematic. Very thorough use of my documentation."

"The ledgers included former clients?" The words felt sharp in his throat. "From years ago?"

"Yes." She met his eyes directly. "Including you, Astarion. That's why I came here first. Your reading—it was rather significant. Both to you and to..." She gestured vaguely at the comfortable room around them, at all the evidence of his settled life. "To everything that followed."

Astarion set his cup down carefully, trying to imagine his memories of that reading being stripped away. That mystical tent, the cards that had shown him possibilities he'd never dared hope for, the final card he'd refused to see—all of it erased. How much of his current happiness had grown from those seeds of possibility? How many times had he thought of Rhonda's predictions while making the choices that led him here? How many of his happiest memories with Tav included them discussing or remembering Rhonda in some way?

"Well," he said, keeping his tone light despite the growing tension in his shoulders, "we can't have some addled illithid rewriting my past, can we?"

Rhonda pulled another file from her case. "The cards were quite specific. They sent me here."

"Yes, you mentioned that." Astarion's lip curled. "Though I fail to see how I'm meant to help with your crisis."

"The cards indicated you are uniquely suited to address this situation." She flipped through several pages of neat documentation, pointed to each as evidence that Astarion ignored. "I've exhausted all conventional channels. The City Watch takes my complaints but never remembers them. The Flaming Fist's records of my visits vanish within hours. Even my lawyer forgot who I was."

"Have you considered simply telling this Yr'thrix what he wants to hear?" Astarion examined his nails. "Surely one little falsified reading isn't worth all this trouble."

Rhonda's shoulders stiffened. "That would violate section one of my contract with the cards."

"Your contract." Astarion set his cup down with a sharp click. "With the cards."

"Yes."

"The cards." He leaned forward, fangs showing. "The same cards that are apparently sending you on errands now."

"Correct."

"And you won't simply lie to save yourself—and your clients—because of a contract. With cards." Each word dripped with derision.

"The terms are quite clear." She pulled out another folder. "Would you like to review the relevant clauses?"

Astarion threw his hands up. "Oh, for— You're being systematically erased from existence, and you're worried about violating terms and conditions with pieces of painted paper?"

"The cards show true futures," Rhonda said, her monotone taking on an edge of steel. "I won't corrupt that by lying, even to save myself."

Astarion lifted his teacup, letting the delicate porcelain hover near his lips while he considered the situation. The mindflayer posed a genuine threat—not just to Rhonda, but to the very foundations of his current life. His understanding of his own identity—even his love for Tav—it was all interwoven hopelessly with his memory of Rhonda.

If those memories vanished, what else might unravel?

He supposed the cards wanted him to eliminate Yr'thrix. It would be simple enough—he might not prowl the nights as he once did, but his skills hadn't dulled. One more monster's blood on his hands, though this time to protect something precious to himself, rather than in the service of another.

Rhonda was already pulling papers from her case, spreading them across his tea table with mechanical efficiency. A contract, naturally. He caught glimpses of dense text, numbered clauses, places marked for signatures.

"Before you start with your paperwork," he said, setting his cup down with a sharp click, "I have some conditions of my own."

Rhonda's hand paused mid-reach for her pen. "Section thirty-four allows for reasonable negotiation of terms—"

"The final card." The words came out harder than he'd intended. "The one I didn't see. What was it?"

Rhonda adjusted her spectacles. "I never looked at it."

"What?" Astarion's fingers stilled on his teacup.

"Section sixteen, paragraph four explicitly prohibits viewing card readings without the client's direct participation and consent." She pulled out yet another document, pointing to a dense block of text. "The card remained face-down when you left, and I put the cards away without looking."

"Five years I've wondered what future I might have missed—or avoided—by leaving it face-down." Astarion stood, pacing the length of his parlor. The afternoon shadows stretched across the expensive rug he'd picked out with Tav. "If you want my help, I want to know." He would help her regardless, but this was the moment to apply leverage, and perhaps the cards hadn't revealed to Rhonda the price of his aid.

"I can offer a new reading." Rhonda was already reaching for her deck. "Section twenty-one covers follow-up consultations—"

"No." The word came out sharper than he'd intended. He paused by the window, careful to stay in the shadow of the heavy curtains. That last reading had given him hope when he'd needed it most, true. But it had also left him wondering how much of his happiness was earned versus predicted. As if knowing the future had somehow made his choices less meaningful.

Perhaps it was better to let that final card remain a mystery. He had everything he wanted now—a home, love, freedom. Why risk tainting it with more prophecy?

"Actually," he said, turning back to face her, "I have reconsidered. I think I'd rather not know."

"That's perfectly acceptable." Rhonda began pulling more papers from her case. "Now, regarding the terms of assistance—"

"Oh, put those away." Astarion waved a dismissive hand. "We don't need contracts for this."

Rhonda froze, her hand hovering over the neat stack of documents. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He smiled, letting just a hint of fang show. "No contracts. No terms and conditions. No bureaucratic nonsense."

"But—" For the first time, her professional mask cracked slightly. "Section eight clearly states that all services must be properly documented—"

"Perhaps," Astarion said, settling back into his chair with fluid grace, "the cards didn't send you to me for my ability to fill out paperwork."

"I don't understand."

"No?" He leaned forward. "Consider who you're dealing with. A mindflayer who thinks he can control the future by controlling you. Who's trying to erase every trace of your existence." His smile sharpened. "Perhaps what you need isn't someone who follows rules. Perhaps you need a little chaos."

Rhonda's fingers tightened on her papers. "The cards—"

"The cards sent you to a vampire, darling." He leaned forward. "Not an accountant."

She sat very still, processing this. Then, with mechanical movements, she began returning the contracts to her case.

"There." Astarion's smile was all predator now. "Much better. We'll have this wrapped up before supper."

[collapsedsquid]

Over the course of the Biden presidency, Kennedy’s views have morphed into a bizarre amalgamation with no natural constituency in American politics. Just a quick look at his campaign website shows a contradictory mess of positions that match up to none of America’s clearly delineated political identities. In one moment, he declares support for police reform; in the next, he proposes border policies straight out of a Stephen Miller white paper. He backs liberal policies on the minimum wage and labor rights while also centering his campaign around right-wing rhetoric on “cancel culture.” He speaks out for massive reductions in military spending and overseas interventions while supporting anti-trans legislation. He declares his support for a federal abortion ban and then says he opposes it. Perhaps if you squint really hard, you might be able to make out some coherent ideology here: a sort of socially conservative, economically liberal “populism,” at least how a 70-year-old weirdo would imagine it. But Americans don’t think in terms of ideologies laid out on a chart. They view things through the perspective of the partisan identities they have adopted and hold dear to themselves. These identities come with a certain list of policies that each member is supposed to support. So, by crafting a platform including positions from both sides of the partisan divide, all Kennedy has done is give both Republicans and Democrats ample reasons to dismiss him. Conservatives can write him off because of his liberal positions on economic issues and because he’s a Kennedy. Liberals can write him off over his socially conservative stances, insane beliefs on public health, and virulent opposition to the Biden administration. While he may imagine himself to be reaching across a partisan divide, in reality, he’s just leaving himself completely boxed out from both sides.

I feel like the idea that this idea set has no natural constituency is just plain not true. There are reasons (I don't fully understand but have some ideas) why this group sucks at getting what they want but there are a lot of people like this.

[allseeingmoth]

OKAY THERE'S BEEN SOME QUESTIONING IN THE TAGS. HERE'S YOUR DEFINITIVE ANSWER: How The 15 Fears Would Help You Transition: The buried: basically i saw the tv glow. Crushed alive as the earth embraces you, until the pressure rends your bones to crystal and smooths the rough edges, and when it grants you the strength to wake up and claw through the supple clay, the thing that emerges is in a new world, in which the sun is dim and you are who you are meant to be. The stranger: Oh Honey You Don't Like Your Identity? Well Go Ahead And Pick A New One Silly! There's Plenty To Choose From!! <:-} Gender Was A Performance Anyways And You Are A Marvelous Actor! The flesh: Perfect body instantly. Whatever you want. Including bone structure, functional additional organs, etc. Even ridding yourself of physical ailments. Provided you're willing to lie on a butcher's block for it, of course. We're all meat, after all, so the idea that other meat would care what way you were cut is laughable. The Corruption: It loves you. It loves you unconditionally, and if you allow yourself to be consumed it will pick you apart with tender hands until the person you once were is irrelevant in the face of the hive. The hive sees who you are. The hives loves what you are when nobody else will. The dark: Everyone who tries to figure out what gender you are is completely unable to get any sort of reading, even on things like your hair colour or height. It's up to you now, they'll believe what you tell them you are in absence of anything concrete to go off of. The vast: You encompass every gender simultaneously, to the point that anyone trying to slot you into "male" or "female" will be overwhelmed to the point of vertigo when realizing the limitless scope of human experience is so grand that slotting it into a simple binary is like trying to fit the ocean in a thimble. The spiral: Your gender is whatever you want it to be. Your body twists and molds like fresh clay at the sight. Whatever someone clocks you as becomes the exact opposite of what you are. Schrodinger's gender. The web: You are able to fully and completely manipulate everyone into believing that you are your gender and always have been, regardless of physical characteristics. If you're nice enough, the spiders' pincers are sharp and precise, they could probably do top surgery. The slaughter: Anyone who misgenders you dies brutally, suddenly, and without warning. The hunt: You can take bits and pieces and slowly perfect yourself over time. Diy your own form. It won't ever be finished, but that's alright. The thrill is in the pursuit, not the end goal. The lonely: Your deadname seems to slip from people's memories. Your face is obscured in fog. Did you have a beard? A soft chin? They certainly can't remember. They decide, uneventfully but with an odd bittersweet pang, that they don't need to. Who were you, anyways? The eye: Every person instinctively knows what name and pronouns you wish to be called, regardless of appearance. And if they choose not to? Well, you know everything about them too, don't you? The Desolation: Give yourself to it, submit to the scorching heat and see your old life burned and blackened and changed. You may look grotesque as the fat and gristle bubbles away and reforms itself into charcoal eyes and candlewax skin around feverish aching bones, but the transformation, the utter destruction of what you once were is glory all in itself. The end: There is no fanfare as you lay down and breathe your last. There is no fanfare when you wake up a new person, with a clarity you lacked before. You have the honor of giving your deadname a dead body to go with it. Trust me, there's nothing more cathartic than attending a funeral for a Self that you killed.

The extinction: It's called the awful change for a reason, you know? Metamorphosis is a painful thing, but the world will change soon enough to accommodate your wholeness, a great superstructure of metal shifting and bending. You are the replacement. You are built for the world that comes. Your cocoon will keep the juices in as you dissolve and are remade again in the ruined earth's image.

alternative methods of transition: 1) burying yourself alive, left to claw at the lid of your coffin until you are reborn into your real self 2) finding a cis person of your gender and steal their skin

[jbeansblog116]

Listening: Reading Journal #2

I often struggle with listening to lectures or audiobooks for extended periods of time. In order to completely focus and have my full attention, I must be doing essentially nothing. My mind races, and combining my over-thinking nature, an audiobook, and a task that requires my total attention is a recipe for disaster. I’m just too easily distracted. That isn’t to say listening cannot be useful to me, it’s just important for it to be constructive. I can crochet or walk while listening to an audiobook, but that doesn’t require much thought for me and it’s something I can zone out with, instead giving my attention to the words being played through my headphones.

The reason I start this week’s post with this is because I believe that listening is as subjective as any other form of teaching or revision. What works for some may not work for all. While Ratcliffe’s Rhetorical Listening surely makes a good argument for the implementation of it in everyday life, I don’t find that it will work for all, especially not myself. She explains that it is:

Another way of helping us continually negotiate our always evolving standpoints, our identities, with the always evolving standpoint of others. It is also another way of helping us recognize that our standpoints are not autonomous points of static stases but rather complex webs of dynamically intermingled cultural structures and subjective agency (Ratcliffe 209).

Yet, doesn’t reading, at its base level, do the same thing? There needs to be a combination of the two; a sort of checks-and-balances system where anyone can thrive with these methods to succeed. I enjoyed Ratcliffe’s writing thoroughly, but it (personally) felt more theoretical than applicable.

I believe that Clark makes a better argument to incorporate listening with the writing-prose method. It feels more substantive, with her example of revisions being something that I can see working for myself. She writes that, “Revision is often a ‘hit and miss’ procedure-- the correction of a few misspelled words, a half-hearted sprinkling of commas. No real reformation occurs” (Clark 83). I agree with her whole-heartedly in this instance as I often struggle to revise my own work properly. I wrote the essay, and upon revision I may notice spelling errors or lack of indentation, but my phrasing usually sounds good (in my opinion). That doesn’t mean it’s correct, as I’m sure you’ll find a word or phrase in here that should have been omitted or reworded, but since it’s how I speak and write, I simply don’t pick up on it. She incorporates listening into her revisions, stating that:

Substantive revising can occur, however, through the proccess of listening, which can take place either in the classroom, during office conferences, or in a listening center located in the writing lab. In a setting which stresses the importance of listening, students can read their drafts aloud to one another and gain the benefit of immediate audience feedback (Clark 83).

Her examples that she provides of this work perfectly, and it’s not too different from how a typical class-room environment should function. By working in groups or pairs, students can give constructive feedback to each other when reading their own papers. A quick note of “I’m sorry, I’m a little bit confused by that,” can lead to an entire discussion where the writer understands what the reader (or listener) is interpreting instead. It holds their attention as well, keeping themselves engaged with spoken material while thinking critically about it as well. It also works in Ratcliffe’s idea of a cross-cultural dialogue, where each student’s voice will be carried and heard in the way that they meant for it to be. Dialect and tone directly affect how a text can be interpreted, so having this outlet within a class would be key in allowing your students to be true to themselves and their work. There isn’t one way of writing or speaking that is better than the other; both can be heard and understood on an equal playing field.

Ratcliffe also includes a string of questions that had me sitting and contemplating her points awhile after I had finished reading. Her questions caught me off guard, asking, “Why is it so hard to listen to one another? Why is it so hard to resist a guilt/ blame logic when we do listen? Why is it so hard to identify with one another when we feel excluded? Why is it so hard to focus simultaneously on commonalities and differences among ourselves? And how do the power differentials of our particular standpoints influence our ability to listen?” (Ratcliffe 197). I think all of these are valid points to bring up; they’re points that should be brought up. Does it merely show how social media has impacted my generations attention spans? How it’s made us shallow and defensive? Or is it something more? I still don’t really have an answer yet, and I’m hoping that with time I’ll come up with some. I end my post here to ask those of you that read my journal this week what you think.

Works Cited:

Ratcliffe. Krista. Rhetorical Listening: A Trope for Interpretive Invention and a “Code of Cross-Cultural Conduct.” Dec. 1999.

Clark, Irene. Listening and Writing. 1981.

[thelonesomecrowdedwest1997]

but truly damian wayne haters are just so lame. like just out right refusing read good versions of the character while peeing their pants if ur uninterested in the 90s comic sludge coated 7 issue mini series where tim drakes penchant for quips really gets fleshed out or teen titans #2546 where dick grayson is insecure about his identity as a seperate hero for the billionth time

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hey so I read your Optronix & Orion twin AU where Orion killed his twin and took his place, idk if you have done a Part 2 or not but could you? I really enjoyed it, maybe Orion tells them(The team and probably the Humans too) exactly what he did and why, maybe Megatron also finds too because I really wanna see his reaction.

Also Big Fan of the Optimus son of Unicron stories, please tag me if you do start the fic.

Glad you like my writing! I will most certainly tag you if/when I start the fic. Although I would like to finish my current fic before I start another one *looking away from the two WIP's that have sat dormant in my Ao3 works*

Anyway, I tried a new format for this little bit, so tell me if you like it I guess.

Truth

The team had always thought that they had been serving under a reformed Optronix, the tyrant that once ravaged Cybertron. Ratchet was still bitter over Optronix's past actions, but the rest of the team loved their leader. Arcee accepted Optimus even with his 'past'. She understood that mecha could change and was just glad that he was a better mecha now that he was the Prime. Bulkhead was in a similar boat in that he did not care much for what Optronix had done in light of all the good and the sacrifices Optimus had made for the Autobots. Bumblebee was not even aware of the horrors of Optronix's reign beyond simple stories of cruelty and the pain others suffered under him. He could never hate his father, especially after Optimus had fought so hard and so valiantly for the Autobots.

The human children had known that Optimus had some sort of dark past based on the snarky remarks Ratchet threw at him every other day. But beyond that they were completely unaware of the truth of the matter or what Optronix did before he became Prime.

Not a spark knew that Optronix was dead or that Orion had taken his place, and that was just the way Optimus liked it. It hurt him to hide the truth from his old friend and to take on the many sins of his brother, but it was for the greater good. He bore the weight with stoic resolve and never faltered even on days where Ratchet threw things at him and would only follow orders if they were given by some other member of the team. He never allowed himself to cry or show weakness, not when his team needed him. He accepted every hit and insult from his old friend without flinching. It was the least he could do after everything Ratchet had suffered.

He was prepared to be assassinated once the war came to an end. In fact he would have gladly allowed Ratchet the final blow once he could be sure his family was safe and that Cybertron was on its way to recovery. He never expected his identity to be revealed until long after his death, if at all. He should have expected it... he should have known.

----

As Optimus sat up, his frame still aching and his processor pounding from the poison despite it having been drained, he gazed at his team with a frown. He reached up to touch his mask only to not find it present, causing his optics to blow wide in fear as he hurried to reach for it where it was placed on the edge of the berth.

However before he could his servo was grasped by the shaky ones of his medic and oldest friend. Looking up he could see Ratchet shaking, his plating flaring and relaxing in short succession in response to his emotional instability. His optics were wide and watery with unsplit coolant and his voice shifted in and and out static as he struggled to speak.

"Orion... its really you. Tell me its really you" The medic pleaded, his voice dipping and cracking as he choked out the words in shattered glyphs. From the corner of his optic, Optimus could see the rest of the team were in similar states of shock and confusion. Arcee and Bulkhead looked lost and conflicted and Bumblebee looked straight up confused. The human children leaned over their balcony railing to watch with interest as the scene played out.

"I am here old friend... I always have been" Optimus at last answered, his tone laced with grief, remorse, and relief all at once. The coolant in Ratchet's optics finally fell and dripped down his face as the medic charged into Optimus's arms, holding him tight.

"I thought you were dead Orion!" Ratchet sobbed against Optimus's chassis, and despite his weakness, Optimus could not find it in himself to pull away. It had been so long since anyone aside from Bumblebee had shown him so much affection. His spark sang at the contact, but the long ingrained instincts that pressured him to put back on his mask and put back up his persona were strong.

"Why?" After several long minutes of crying on Ratchet's part, the question the whole team wanted the answer to was finally uttered by the medic. Optimus considered the question with a sigh. There was no point hiding the truth now...

"Optronix needed to be stopped and the Autobots could not wait any longer for me to find a peaceful way to remove him from power" Optimus took a shuddering vent as he continued, his gaze firmly focused on the far wall of the base so he needn't meet anyone's optics.

"I killed him that cycle in front of Primus's core... after which Primus saw fit to make me the next Prime" Hushed gasps came from the team as Optimus continued. Bumblebee only knew a little of the details in regards to Optimus's rise to Prime, but he knew enough to know that the confession was great.

"It was a rash decision, one I hadn't fully thought through. I just knew he needed to die if we were to survive. But when all was said and done, the reality of my actions hit me and I realized that Optronix, while cruel, was vital to the war" Ratchet's gaze practically bore holes into Optimus with its intensity, but Optimus refused to look at him as he continued, now too far into his explanation to stop.

"If I had come out as Prime, there would have been civil war among the Autobots, and the Decepticons would have annihilated us even with my presence... So I took up Optronix's name and mantle and I did what needed to be done to keep our people unified" Optimus shuttered his optics as he finished, fearful of the response from the team. And as he expected, a harsh slap rang out in the base as Ratchet took a swing at Optimus's face, an act he did not fight against.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME! I WOULD HAVE SUPPORTED YOU!" Ratchet screamed, his relief having made way for grief and anger. The team took a few steps forward as if to stop the medic, but seeing as Optimus did nothing, they hesitated.

"Why Orion?! Did you not trust me?! Did you not believe I had the right to know?!" Ratchet's rant went on as he grabbed Optimus by his chassis plating and forced him to look him in the optics. Coolant ran freely down the medic's face as his frame heated and desperately tried to cool itself in response to Ratchet's emotional outburst.

Optimus could not answer.

"For millennia I believed you dead! I mourned for you! I-I spent countless recharge cycles awake trying to find a way to avenge you!" Optimus kept his expression controlled as Ratchet shook him, leaving dents in his chassis plating.

"I hurt you... and I didn't even know it was you" Exhausted, Ratchet pulled away and leaned on his console for support as he quietly cried. Optimus did not move from his place on the edge of the medical berth and focused on the string of his dented face and chassis plating.

He wished he had done better. He wished they had never found out. Maybe then Ratchet would have been spared such pain.

----

Arcee and Bulkhead did not change their behavior around Optimus much in response to the reveal. He was still their Prime, albeit without the sins they had associated with him previously. If anything they treated him with more respect than before. He had taken on and done everything in his power to rectify the damage his twin had done, and that put him in an even higher place of respect in their optics. Ratchet however locked himself up in his berthroom, drowning in mixed anger at Optimus and self-loathing for all the times he had hurt him over the vorns. Optimus could not bring himself to speak with him. He had forgotten how to.

The children and Bumblebee did not understand what was going on. They did not understand why the reveal was so important or what it entailed. And this in turn led Optimus to sit down with them a few days later once he was fully recovered to explain.

----

"I was forged with a spark-twin named Optronix. He was once a good mech, excellent with words and filled with conviction. We worked together to better Cybertron long before the war" Bumblebee leaned against Optimus's side like a sparkling as Optimus told his tale. The children rested on his shoulder plating and looked to him silently as he spoke.

"But as he began to receive recognition, the power got to his helm and corrupted his spark. He began abusing his authority to do as he wished, eventually selling out mine and Megatronus's revolution in order to make a deal with the council" Optimus gently rested a servo on Bumblebee's helm as he continued his tragic story. The action grounded him, it kept him from spiraling.

"I did everything to bring him back. Even when he hurt me and so many others with the power the council gave him. Even when he threw our planet into war... I still gave my very spark to attempt to show him the light" The children gently touched Optimus's face in a comforting manner as he shuttered his optics for a long moment in an attempt to compose himself. He appreciated the gesture.

"But he was a tyrant, one who regularly hurt me and our people. And eventually there was no other choice but to end him... even if it tore me apart to do so" Bumblebee made a noise of concern as Optimus wiped at his optics, stopping any coolant from leaking before it could even begin to well up in his optics.

"I gave away my name, my identity, and every connection I every had to take on Optronix's sins in order to keep the Autobots united under one banner" Another long pause followed Optimus's words. He had never spoken to anyone about his grievances, not since he took up the mantle. And now that he was finally doing so, it hurt more than he thought.

"You allowed yourself to suffer to fight for the freedom of Cybertron? That must have been very difficult" Rafael piped up after a moment, his expression the embodiment of pity and concern. Optimus didn't want to be pitied, but he did not reject the human child's kind touches.

<You did what you needed to do Optimus. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise> Bumblebee added in binary as he leaned further into Optimus's side and gave him a slightly awkward hug. Miko and Jack made similar comments, but by that point Optimus was hardly listening. He had feared that he would be hated, and it came as a bit of a shock to see that he was instead loved.

He didn't want it to end. He didn't want to be alone again.

----

Bumblebee and the children understood and did not begrudge Optimus anything once he had told them his story. How could they? He had given absolutely everything to the cause. And the longer Bumblebee thought on it, the more he respected his Sire.

He remembered many times when he was young when Optimus would spit up poison or calmly walk to the medical bay holding an injury after attempted assassinations. He recalled countless times when Optimus was called all sorts of slurs and thrown an infinite number of insults the moment his back was turned. Bumblebee remembered all this and how when he was young, he never understood why his Sire was hated by so many. But now he knew and he respected his Sire all the more for taking the abuse with silent grace and humility despite the sins not belonging to him.

He could only think that it took a special kind of spark to endure such torment for so long, especially when it came from old friends and comrades.

Of course with the truth out, Optimus struggled with himself. Once Ratchet came out of his solitude, he begged for forgiveness for his cruelty, something Optimus freely gave. From that point onward he did everything in his power to fix the mental wounds which Optimus kept so deeply buried. And that started by taking away his mask and having Optimus move around base and on the field without it.

This in turn meant that eventually the Decepticons figured things out as well.

----

"What foul trick is this Optronix?!" Megatron reared back in anger as Optimus met his last attack, his face on full display. The warlord was fuming, his plating flared and his optics blazing in fury. Optimus did not answer, he couldn't find it in himself to.

"You kill my brother and now you wear his face like a prize! I should tear your helm from your shoulders!" Megatron roared in outrage, his attacks becoming more erratic as he rage bubbled to the surface and overtook any logic or reason that he might have had. Optimus held his ground and met each attack with one of his own. He hated fighting against the mech he once saw as a brother. He hated this slagging war. But he had grown used to it.

"DIE FALSE PRIME!" Megatron launched one final attack before Optimus called the retreat, ordering his Autobots back in time to escape from the raging warlord.

----

Megatron raised hell on the nemesis and the battlefield for weeks afterwards, refusing to believe what he had seen. Others like Soundwave were unsure what to think, but without more information, they continued running on the assumption that it was a cruel trick on the Autobots part.

[variousqueerthings]

so 11pm thoughts but ive gotta exorcise them a bit because

I kinda thought ray leaving would be a bit of a one and done, which is a fair enough way to play it, but then they didn't so now im chewing on wholly unexpected material here! much to go over and this won't cover it!

i also didn't expect ray kowalski to be undercover as ray vecchio which is very interesting from an identity perspective (we shall return to that!)

so firstly, i like that it's been done this way. a quick auf wiedersehen would have been less poignant, less interesting for the story, potentially also less in-character for fraser, who is losing his main tie to the city (whom i also previously theorised is the main reason why fraser ended up staying in s2 in the first place, in witness) and youknow. his best and only real friend his entire life aside from diefenbaker

and obviously ray vecchio is haunting the narrative in episodes 1+2. he's got his actual goodbye, which is already super loaded (he's gonna get in touch, we're waiting for him to get in touch!), and then there's the fact that everyone is saying that this other guy, who clearly isn't ray vecchio, is ray vecchio, there's the house burning down, the car burning down, the investigation of this new guy who has entered in a sort of fascinating changeling-esque sort of way, there's the not knowing where ray vecchio is! and there's the photograph (he's cold! i know this was done for the secret code # canada reference, but i was also thinking about ghost!ray, because he is, effectively, a ghost now!)

ray is, for most of episode 1, both effectively gone-and-not-gone (i'd say dead, but we'll get to that, because he is not dead, so why does he feel dead), and at the end of it fraser is given a mandate to take care of new-ray (who at this point still isn't ray kowalski) and this has two functions: first, to take care of new-ray, a man who is clearly not feeling great at this point in life and needs a good partner (and fraser has now come far enough in his character development that he can hold that a bit more). second, to protect ray vecchio, because the only reason ray kowalski is pretending to be him is to maintain vecchio's cover -- again, a lingering presence over the plot

of course the sheer destruction of everything that signals ray vecchio is also that literal loss, not much to analyse there, it's just bad news on top of bad news for fraser, who, again, is really mostly in this city because of ray, and now has to reform himself around ray kowalski

ray kowalski is himself in a loss/grieving process. he's also, since i mentioned changeling (up until he Becomes Himself in episode 2) kind of fae in vibes, so far. something about him is untetherable-downable (yes this is real phrasing, my phrasing is not flawed at all). he's impulsive, hot-tempered, impatient... i wouldn't say "unreliable" it's just that he seems to not quite value the place he is right now, which is why he goes off the grid to do his own thing, alongside said own thing being something he feels he needs to do for himself (and by himself until fraser comes and helps in that way he does) and i think post-ep2 he'll potentially be more able to commit to the job, especially now fraser Knows him a bit better and he's not completely without identity, but he's got a sort of here-today-gone-tomorrow feeling to him, similar to fraser in his early days

i cannot quite get to the heart of the identity thing, but he just feels like a guy who's floundering and needs a direction/to regain a sense of identity. he's lost some part of himself, and seemed compelled enough by the idea of pretending to be, not just someone else, but someone else who already exists, but also that obviously didn't work like he hoped it would

there's the ex-wife, whom he clearly still thinks about, there's the fact that he's gone undercover and it feels like he's trying to almost escape something about himself, but also he obviously isn't happy about this lack of self, he wants to be known/seen (by fraser, bit by bit), so he also comes into the story wounded

(i do, slight sidenote, wonder if the fae-aspect to him will continue -- im going to assume yes, but mellower... again, smthsmth domestication, similar to early days fraser)

i also have been sort of spoiled that fraser this season keeps the red suit on most of the time, which is fun to read from a "buttons himself up again under the veneer of kind, polite man" vs the gradually increasing casual-wear we saw him in, especially in s2 (although quite early on in s1 as well

fraser in episode 1 feels lost/wrong-footed/somewhat in denial (the "proving that this man is not ray vecchio when that's very obvious" really gave the vibe of a guy hoping they'd say sike and ray might pop out of a plant somewhere)/desperate to hold onto some element of ray until he's informed that this is literally impossible (except... the photograph) because even to mention ray vecchio is dangerous, and in episode 2 he seems settled, but very remote in comparison to how he'd grown to be. there's a duty there. a mandate. he's going to take care of this other sad man. at some point i assume this other sad man will take care of him too, but in ep1+2 fraser is too buttoned up to show any of that vulnerability, although it does bleed through if you know where to look/what to compare to

the whole birthday party in episode two was what felt the most like there was a gaping hole. it was for ray. who is not there. there was a (very elaborate, homemade) gift for ray, who is not there. the ray-not-being-there element isn't exactly a wake, but it's not not a remembrance, of sorts

and fraser isn't mourning him. why should he? this is a birthday party, not a funeral. he's not dead, so what reason is there to grieve? he's not a lover, so what permitted relationship-structure is there to grieve? he's simply... gone. and the grief is there in the hanging on to him throughout both episodes, even so. and there's nobody he could talk to about it, even if that were allowed (maybe ma vecchio)

i presume, like with grief, that this hanging-on will gradually fade somewhat -- it already has: ray kowalski is now ray kowalski, so already he is neither a changeling nor a ghost/reminder, he's someone new, and this newness will overtake the melancholy that overlaid the first two episodes

and as the caretaking mandate part of the story is replaced by genuine friendship, that mandate will also cease to be The Important Thing, and so their relationship won't be tied to fraser's former partner either

and ray kowalski himself will be able to come to terms with the things that affect him and be a partner to fraser in return

but for those two episodes they're both kinda hurt, both kinda unsure, both having to figure out what all of this means for their identities, both having to go through a reforming (neither of them, i think, is at the end of that by far by end episode 2)

and it's grief

brb gotta chew on the idea that the first two episodes of due south s3 are about loss and grief. and wondering (and having been hinted at a bit) that the rest of s3 is as well. totally different ballgame from what i expected the season to be like!

[hindahoney]

Tbh even at my synagogue there's so much anti orthodox sentiment and it makes me really sad. We're liberal/progressive which of course means we generally don't always agree with typical orthodox values, we would go to an Orthodox synagogue instead of this one if we did, but I hear a lot of talk among our community that I find really disrespectful of Orthodox Jews! Things like blanket accusations of homophobia and sexism which just...isn't true if you even glance in the direction of all the queer Orthodox Jews that exist. I swear people just like to say "Orthodox is bad to gay people!!!!" and all the gay Orthodox Jews are like "uh no it's not, we're actually a huge influential part of the Orthodox community, you can't just ignore that we're here, and youre choosing to ignore all the work that queer Orthodox Jews have put in to make our spaces safe and accessible" and then others still go "it's so sad how no queers can thrive in Orthodox spaces :(( sometimes it's like I can still hear their voices"

It's very much not the same thing but for the sake of analogy, it reminds me of American queers who say shit like "The southern states are so homophobic there's nothing there for us this is so sad <\3" while completely ignoring that the south is actually full of queer people, some will live their whole lives in those places and aren't any less queer or influential there than elsewhere, and it's super homophobic to make statements like that. Like sure just go ahead and assume gay people in the south are all completely trapped and powerless and tragic and nonexistent instead of acknowledging that there are thousands of fully realised queer human beings there whose experiences shouldn't be swept under the rug to accommodate the popular narrative that South Bad.

Im not saying Orthodox communities never have issues with things like racism, homophobia, sexism etc, but like?? So do Reform and Liberal communities??? Stop pretending we're absolutely perfect while being so grossly antisemitic *to other Jews*. I've had encounters with transphobic Jews at my synagogue and while I was able to sort it out and get them to a place of understanding my upset and showing remorse and changed behaviour, it feels like people just want to ignore that this shit can still happen in progressive spaces, because it doesn't fit their narrative of Reform Good Orthodox Bad.

I considered going down a conversion route to become Orthodox a few years ago and didn't go through with it, but I did get to engage with my.local Orthodox rabbi and hoooooly shit it's been so saddening and eye opening the way every Orthodox Jew I've spoken to has, very early on, gone "don't worry I'm not sexist I promise!!" because they KNOW people are going to make horrible assumptions about them just based on their culture. Like fuck it tells a sad story about the way people including other Jews must treat them. Straight up antisemitic

I promise not all Liberal, Reform, progressive etc Jews feel negatively about Orthodoxy, it's just irritatingly common and I really heavily sympathise with all the shit you must have to go through. You aren't without allies but I don't blame you for feeling alone when this is how you're often treated.

(ik this isn't my blog but @ goyim: comment on this and i will bite your head off, this is a threat.)

Thank you for sharing your story. I by no means am saying I don't have my own qualms with orthodoxy, and things that I disagree with my community about. But that's okay, it's encouraged to disagree.It depends on who you ask whether they would call me orthodox or not, certainly more liberal Jews would view me this way. But out of respect for the orthodox community, I don't feel comfortable taking on that identity yet, but ultimately that's the goal. For right now I feel comfortable calling myself "frum."

It's incredibly painful when I see Jews throwing other Jews under the bus, because I take the term "tribe" seriously. When Cain asks HaShem "Am I my brother's keeper?" the Torah, and as consequence, the Jews, answered unequivocally yes. A Jew across the world that I've never met is, in my eyes and my entire soul, my family. So when I see my family fighting with each other over complete misunderstandings that could be solved if we just listened more, it hurts.

I feel like when people see me they assume I'm socially backward, as if there's no way I can square my religious beliefs with acceptance of LGBT+ people (as if I myself don't/can't identify as queer), or with women having a more involved role in services. They just assume we are a monolith, as if we're a group of worker ants that all operate and think the same exact way.

There are queer orthodox Jews who have made their space in orthodoxy. There are women who feel like they thrive in orthodoxy, who are NOT "ruled over" by their husbands, and are not forced to dress modestly, but choose it for themselves because they feel more comfortable that way.