#furious literary analysis

[opinated-user]

Lily seethes with jealousy. When I see her get angry at TOH, a good show that has helped a lot of people through real-life trauma, spawned lots of fanfics, fanart and cosplays, a show that gave us breakthrough representation and wonderful character dynamics between both friends and romantic partners that feel natural and logical for who these people are, what I hear isn't "I hate TOH". What I hear is "I'm a 30 year old basement dweller furious that someone else's good writing and creative drive has given them more success than my self-insert OC fanfic ever will".

When she was aphobic as hell towards SF Debris, that was the vibe I got then, too. "How dare this Jewish asexual man be so good at analyzing sci-fi and so in-depth? He read A Tale of Two Cities and Moby Dick in order to refresh himself on the material so he can properly explain the quotes from them used in Star Trek: Wrath of Khan and talk about literary parallels? That sucks! What about my reviews where I dunk on shows I haven't watched? Why isn't that getting me the acclaim and income he has? Why does he get to have a stable income, a wife and a functional family? Why not me?!??"

When she tried hard to erase aivi & surrashu's contributions to Steven Universe's soundtrack, all I heard is, "I'm jealous of this Vietnamese NB in a happy, long-term marriage with a neurodivergent man. I pretend to be a POC and alternate between telling people I'm autistic and have ADHD, why didn't success fall into my lap?! Oh, just because they put in hard work and create original work, they get to be well-regarded?! What about me? I kinda sorta review cartoons sometimes! Where's my status?!"

She screams a lot, but no matter how many people she calls things, no matter how many queer people and POC and neurodivergent people she hates, at the end of the day she's alone in her room like always. She's alone with a dwindling fanbase, very limited acclaim, increasing levels of criticism for her past actions, and almost no friends. No one will ever cosplay one of her characters or eagerly hand over hundreds of dollars to her because of her good analysis of character actions and literary parallels or find her through original, non-fandom based work.

I don't think even Lily is so stupid she can't recognize that TOH has better writing than her work. I think she realizes it and it hurts her, and she's lashing out rather than putting in the work.

If she worked hard and tried, even her writing could be improved. Reading and researching like SF Debris does for his reviews is 100% an option for any internet reviewer if they're willing to put in the work. Creating original, non-fandom based work is not difficult, and though it takes a lot of marketing yourself and persistence to make it as an original content creator, we're in a golden era of webtoons, web comics and original fiction on the web. She could, if she tried, be better. But she's too immature to try, so instead of getting better, she just screams into her microphone and cries on tumblr, eternally angry, eternally irrelevant.

She reminds me more and more of a canceled Fox News host - a bitter conservative too toxic to work with other conservatives anymore, whose online presence decreases in visibility as it fades in relevance.

.

[caffeinatedowlbear]

Tell you what, I'm really proud of my Rhack fic Praise, and I wanted to talk about it. This is pure self-indulgence, but hey, sometimes you gotta make your own food write your own literary analysis.

Overall, I have two main approaches to writing: Fuck Around And Find Out, or Structure The Shit Out Of It. My long fic Lost and Found is 100% based on the former approach (which may explain why it's 200k+ words and counting). Shorter fics are more likely to get the structured treatment, though. And Praise is, perhaps, the epitome of that.

More than that, not only is the writing of this story tightly structured, but it's also a case of form serving function. Have I intrigued you yet?

Mild to moderate spoilers for the fic in question, obviously.

Praise depicts how the relationship between Jack and Rhys develops, and how Jack's feelings for Rhys change as time goes on. It takes Jack on an emotional journey vis-a-vis Rhys, from pure manipulation for selfish reasons, to a growing need that goes beyond the practical, to the emergence of attachment, affection and, eventually, love. (It's still a super-unhealthy relationship even at the end of it, make no mistake about that.)

The story consists of thirteen vignettes, and ten of them have the exact same architecture of six paragraphs.

Establishes where Rhys and Jack are, and their relative positions/situation.

Direct speech. Jack is the one speaking in seven out of ten cases. (There's no direct significance to the numbers, but no-one should be surprised that Jack is the one talking more.)

Action, whether literal or, y'know, action. (So much of this fic is told through sex scenes.)

More talking, indirectly this time, i.e. "Jack tells him that..."

Brief musings on whether or not the speaker means what is being said

Reassurance that whether or not the speaker means it... it's fine, followed by a quick explanation why it's fine in this particular instance.

This script that ten out of the thirteen vignettes follow is meant to signify that all of Jack's interactions with Rhys are, indeed, scripted. That is not to say that there aren't earnest emotional responses to stimuli and situation. There are plenty of those. But in the grand scheme of things, it's all... well, a grand scheme of things. Jack's grand scheme of things.

Until vignette #11. In which Rhys convinces Jack not only to take his mask off, but to keep it off, so that the rest of the universe can see who's coming to rule it.

It starts like every other vignette before it: an establishing shot and a note on Jack and Rhys's relative positions.

Except... well, these have been the relative positions so far:

Rhys is on his knees before Jack

Rhys is straddling Jack's lap

Rhys is lying in bed, with holo-Jack next to him

Jack sits on a couch, and Rhys joins him. This is the first time where Rhys gets some agency in his own positioning, as Jack is anxious in this scene, and Rhys proactively reassures him

The physical positions are unspecified, but Rhys is described as being terrified, and Jack is the one reassuring him; and so the balance of power swings back the usual way

Again, no physical positioning, but Jack has just shown Rhys his unmasked face for the first time, so the scene's agency is with Jack

Both are in bed, following sexy times with a clear D/s vibe

Back to emotional stakes: Rhys has fucked up, and Jack is furious; power clearly on Jack's side

Emotional stakes again: Rhys is anxious, Jack is reassuring

In bed together in the real world for the first time

So far, even though Rhys hasn't been entirely without agency in most of the scenes, the balance of power has been almost entirely in Jack's favor.

And then comes the opening of vignette #11.

They’re about to leave for the Great Vault, and Rhys stands before Jack, and Jack is standing perfectly still.

Compare this to any of the above, will you? Not only does Rhys stand before Jack, as opposed to being in a physically or emotionally submissive state, but Jack... Jack is standing perfectly still. Not only does this little stand-off (sorry) feature them as equals for the first time, but I'm willing to argue that the balance is ever so slightly tipped in Rhys's favor. Like, 51/49. Because of Jack standing there. Because of how Jack stands there: perfectly still. Standing to attention. Waiting for Rhys to act and speak.

And then, after the Direct Speech and Action parts of the vignette, Jack breaks the script. Instead of indirect speech, it's direct. And he asks Rhys to speak. And Rhys responds.

And so the script is broken, signifying that for the first time in this story, shit got really, really real.

The next vignette, past the establishing shot, follows no script at all. Which is par for the course, because that's the part of the story where Jack doesn't do what both he and Rhys had been expecting all along. He doesn't leave Rhys behind as he escapes the self-destructing Pandora.

And then, in the shuttle, another important moment happens.

“I thought you were going to leave me there,” says Rhys.

He is sitting on the floor at the time. And before answering him, Jack walks over to him, and kneels down to be on the same level as him. Or, seeing as Jack is planning to speak truthfully, to be ON the level? (Sorry, again.)

“Remember when I said I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you?” Jack says. Rhys nods.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you meant it.”

“I didn���t at the time.” Jack gets to his feet and pulls Rhys up by his hand.

Jack tells him the truth. And then he pulls Rhys up to his feet. We've now gone from Rhys kneeling before him, to Rhys standing before him, to Jack kneeling down to meet Rhys where he is... and then pulling him up. I mean. Do you need a clearer visual metaphor?? Didn't think so.

But then comes the last vignette, the lucky number thirteen. (That was just serendipity.) And it doesn't quite follow the usual script of #1 through #10, but neither it freewheeling like #12. It's a bit of both. There's some earnestness in there, but also some games. Because hey, this is a Murder Husbands AU, and they're both still very much fucked up, and their relationship is unhealthy af, and having genuine feelings for Rhys doesn't simply wipe away Jack's manipulative bastard nature. There'll always be some script, some game afoot. But Rhys now has a much higher chance of surviving it.

And then there's the last line, of course. Because I can't resist the delicious, delicious symmetry.

So here we go. Praise is one of my more elaborate and intentional pieces of writing, and I really wanted to talk about how it was put together. If you made it to the end of this post, thank you for indulging me. And if you've read this without reading the actual fic - hey, you do you. (But maybe go read it, seriously, it's a lot of fun.)

[citylightsandsettingsuns]

During the month of January 2022, I went on a first date that I had absolutely no desire to go on. In fact, I remember telling my friend the night before that I wanted to cancel and that I felt sick when the guy texted me and said, “Looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.” I was completely pessimistic about the date, but my friend encouraged me to give him a chance. I begrudgingly agreed because I don’t like breaking plans with people, but as I got ready for the date the next morning, I decided that I was going to get through an hour with the guy, go home, and then text him and tell him I wasn’t feeling it.

I remember sitting at the table at one of my favorite restaurants thinking, “Well, at least I’ll get a free meal out of this date.” 😅 Then, he showed up. After about twenty minutes of conversation, I remember thinking to myself, “I think I am on a date with the person I’m going to marry.” I felt an unbelievable sense of peace in my heart throughout the entire date: We ended up staying at the restaurant for way too long and finally decided to continue our conversation at a nearby coffee shop because we were clearly hogging a table, and we didn’t want to be those people. 😂 After another couple of hours at the coffee shop, we decided that, even though we didn’t want the date to end, he needed to get back to his house and his dog. (He had driven 2 hours to meet me!) We hugged goodbye, and he promised to text me as soon as he got home.

After about two hours, I got the text that he had arrived home safely and another text saying, “I had a great time today and would love to see you again!” I texted back, and we immediately made plans for a date the following weekend.

That day was the first day of the most beautiful moments of my life. I cherished every second with this man, and I prayed every day for God to please, please, please let me keep him. I woke up feeling excited and grateful every day, and I fell asleep feeling content every night.

One day, though, I noticed a drastic shift in energy. I kept trying to tell myself that it was all in my head, that I was only feeling this way because I had gotten so used to having my heart broken, that everything was going to be okay as long as I didn’t panic. But, as I was getting ready to leave his house and drive the two hours back to mine, this beautiful, kind, brilliant, hilarious, genuinely good man took my hands and told me that his feelings for me just weren’t progressing. He wasn’t falling in love with me, and he knew it wasn’t fair to stay in a relationship with a woman he wasn’t in love with. I stared up at him for a few seconds with tears pooling in my eyes, blinked those tears away, and said, “Okay.”

I drove away from his house in silence. When I got home, I spent the rest of the day on my couch. I went to work the next morning and taught the youth of America about literary analysis. And I kept going.

It’s been several months since I’ve spoken to him. He hasn’t reached out since the day he ended things; I reached out once (embarrassingly), and he kindly told me that his decision was final. (Actually, I’m not embarrassed about that. I shot my shot. If I hadn’t at least tried, I would never forgive myself.)

I have spent the past several months trying to be okay with the fact that 2022 ended so differently than how it started. Honestly, I thought there was a real possibility that I would be engaged by the end of this year. I was that confident in my relationship with this man.

To cope, I have been trying to view the events of this year through the lens of “What is this teaching me?” At first, I was furious and devastated (and still am, some days), and all I could think was, “This is teaching me that I’ll never find love because nobody ever fucking stays.” I hated the universe and God for being so cruel, for giving me a man who was everything I’ve ever wanted and then taking him away so suddenly.

But after several months of reflection and meditation and prayer (and hysterically crying and screaming and throwing things), I am going to say that this is what 2022 has taught me: This year has taught me that I have the capacity to love so deeply, and that, because I’ve done it once, I can do it again and again and again. If you’ve been following me for awhile, you may remember that I went through a terrible breakup four years ago, and I finally healed from that—but I spent a long time thinking that I could never love someone as much as I loved that guy four years ago. And look at me now: I have loved someone ten times more than I loved that guy four years ago. ❤️ So, even though my heart is crushed into a million pieces, even though I stalked this guy’s instagram and found another girl commenting hearts on his photos (ouch! Fucking ouch!!!!!), even though I still cry from time to time for the loss of so much love—I know that this pain won’t last forever, and that one day, I will be able to open my heart again and love someone even more than I love this guy. A heart that’s hurting is a heart that’s working, and I’m hopeful that this year—a year where I’ll watch my younger brother marry the love of his life and my best friend marry the love of hers—will be filled with so much love that the shattered pieces of my heart will form the most beautiful mosaic anyone has ever seen.

[lowestechelonabomination]

Dazai anti loser’s “analysis” in question:

So um dazai gaslighter peepoopoo he um manipulate!! uh Kyouka and Atsushi are creeped out by him but don’t ask me how he’s manipulative ok!! I should be right!

I think you fundamentally misunderstand the entire point of an analysis. it's not to determine what's right and what's not, but, in the case of literature and other media, to simply to offer your own perspective on something through textual evidence. the convention is to pass things off as fact--which is what anti-dazai-blog, as a literature major, does too--but analyses are inherently based on opinions. no analysis is out there trying to determine the actual truth, because that's an impossible task unless you are the original author themself. it's all speculation. so, anti-dazai-blog is also offering their perspective on Dazai by analyzing him and his actions in the series.

similarly, people who read analyses and analytical papers are by no means required to agree with everything said in them. it's completely natural for analyses to contradict each other, because that's the entire point. people are literally just offering their opinions and perspectives through the lens of the source material. have you ever had to write a long paper on literature with secondary sources? it's the same principle. well-articulated analyses of characters and media can help you form your own opinions on those things. with every analysis, you can pick and choose what you agree with and what you don't, and then use both of those to shape your own perspective. that is the point of analyzing media. no one is forcing you to agree with everything anti-dazai-blog posts. in fact, anyone experienced in literary analysis would encourage you to disagree. do you really think everyone that reads their posts agrees with everything they say? I sure don't. you can find someone's posts interesting without taking everything they say as fact. I think their points on Dazai are fascinating, but I don't necessarily have to agree with them. discourse and disagreement is at the core of literary analysis. when I wrote my massive term paper last year, I came across a paper that argued that the main character of the novel I was analyzing was secretly in an incestuous relationship with his parents. I don't think I can even properly express my utter disgust and disagreement with that argument. in my view--and let me reiterate: in my view--that paper was wrong. but, that argument was not unfounded. there is no true right or wrong way to interpret a piece of media. there are as many interpretations as there are people on this planet, and analytical writing is simply an interpretation put into words. and nothing is so plainly black-and-white. I was able to find and cite a paragraph I agreed with even in the aforementioned paper. you may disagree with everything anti-dazai-blog writes, and that's fine. someone else may agree with everything they write, and that's also fine. but don't expect everyone to so cleanly be divided into factions, and, most of all, don't go around harassing people for having opinions different from yours.

you might already be typing out an angry ask telling me that anti-dazai-blog does try to say that only their interpretation is right, to which I say: comedy. it's comedy. ever heard of it? this is the internet, where analyses are permitted to be more informal and comedic. anti-dazai-blog stating that they're right is an obvious hyperbole. their blog isn't satire, but they're allowed to be comedic about their arguments. watch even a single youtube commentary video and you'll see what I mean

and I know that typing out such a long response is ultimately pointless, since you've been doing this for about a year now from what I've heard (jobless much?) and refuse to listen to people no matter what they say. what makes you defend a fictional character with such childish vigor? like seriously, what makes you so furious that other people have differing opinions on a fictional piece of media open to interpretation that you go around harassing people? it seems like you think that the entire world is against you for liking Dazai or something, but that's...blatantly untrue. and then you go and tell other Dazai fans that they're not "real" Dazai fans for what, daring to read posts criticizing his behavior? for a fan of a morally-gray character you sure do see things only in black-and-white. anyway, this is everything I have to say to you. goodbye

[fantasy-observant]

Venting

Man, I was gonna stay quiet but no, I can't. Guess I'm going to kick the hornet's nest.

Gotta love the kind of fandom people who whine about receiving comments that aren't up to their standards. A "Nice story! :)" isn't good enough. To these types if your comment doesn't have paragraphs of literary analysis or super deep questions (that no one would even know to ask) for their fics, they would rather you don't comment at all.

Meanwhile, I know so many writers who get depressed, quit, and sometimes even delete their stories because they never receive any kudos, likes, or comments AT. ALL. on stories they pour their hearts out on.

(And for now we'll say nothing of the comments that actually ARE bad that these writers receive. The classic "kill yourself because Xcuse"s come to mind)

Once upon a time I received an anon message who told me they liked my story but didn't want to waste my comment space with "useless gushing" and I'm still furious that someone cowed that anon into not expressing themselves! Wtf!

I do what I can to support my fellow creators, but the assholes described at the top are why the writers described next to that don't receive comments. People are driven away from saying ANYTHING if it's never good enough for you snobs.

Sure, be annoyed that they didn't comment to YOUR preference. Everyone else shut up. After all, we wouldn't want to offend you types by expressing our interest in a way that isn't exclusively the way you want.* Oh. Wait. That's STUPID.

Look, it's simple. Everyone go make comments to your own preference and let everyone else enjoy the content and express their enjoyment of said content as they like. If anyone tells you otherwise: they are an asshole and should be ignored.

P.S. I will say nothing that is the shitstorm that erupts when you ask for clarification for weird phrasing/unclear descriptions, or heaven forbid, pointing out a typo. It is not rude to ask what an idiom means. Wtf.

*this goes double for those of us who may not have English as a first language, or struggle to convey our full meanings through text. "Wah so blunt!" Yeah translating thoughts into your language sucks sometimes and your culture dictates that everything must be couched in constant ass-kissing and sugar-coating and sometimes I'm too tired to remember that. Thicken your hide and stop assuming malice.

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

I completely forgot how much I hate reading textbook definitions of writing analysis/advice/orders. Like Jesus fuck, I don’t even know if any of the—no, some of the information is wrong, but reading any of it feeling like raking shards of glass over my face after I spent an hour removing them from a frozen block of pig’s blood.

And I know some of it is me, and how I feel about people trying to dictate art, and the production of art and acting like art can be objectively compared or consumed like it isn’t an inherently emotional thing but god fucking damn it if this isn’t nauseating to read.

To watch some fucking asshole try to dictate to me, someone who has spent the last four, nearing five years of their life to the creation of art for the sake of itself, improving of time as I found a voice I was comfortable with using, twisting and reshaping it as I found new applications and wanted to see how badly I could mangle it for the style and tone I wanted to convey, how art should be allowed to be written, like anyone has any fucking higher understanding of that then anyone else is infuriating.

And then to be told absolutisms in the form of writing that is worthy of being consumed or considered ‘good’, like formulaic writing has any fucking place in the discussion at all, fucking what? That’s the one thing every writer, reading, enjoyer, critic can agree on, writing based off a checklist that you have to hit perfectly every time, with no exceptions is a sure fire way to make your writing the driest, most unentertaining art you can strive for.

And maybe, I’m reading too far into it, maybe they wanted to give general advice, but thought absolute phrasing was the only way to convey their tone, but even then, am I at fault? If you don’t mean, and are not trying to say, that your advice is the only thing to keep in mind, that if you break these arbitrary rules than your art cannot be considered worth making or consuming, then make that clear! Don’t talk in absolutes when discussing subjective opinions!

And it’s almost worse when it’s not absolutes, if that’s possible, because then they use such gems as ‘good paragraph(s) should have the following characteristics’ implying that if you don’t, it’s somehow not worth the effort? What if my paragraph is all dialogue, huh? What if I use disjointed sentences to convey a sense of confusion from the focus character, giving non-sequential placed thoughts and memories to convey unstable consciousness and recollection?

I’m sorry if this is nonsense and rambling, or if there are numerous grammar and spelling mistakes, there probably is, seeing as I write this in a fugue state induced by a flavor of rage I only ever experience when someone tries to ordain artistic expression.

Alright, I can’t even give a proper outro, I’m still so fucking pissed but TL;DR, literary absolutism is just as fucking stupid as literary elitism and if a textbook tries to tell you there’s only one way to make ‘“proper’’’ art, burn it.

Have a pleasant fucking evening heretics, if it gets worse you might even get a part two, depending if I decided to burn the book, in which case pictures will be provided, or if I simply decide to KS from god and put myself out of this italics-for-emphasis-hellmouth induced misery.

[miadzudza]

Doumeki and his post-timeskip relationship with Yashiro - What's changed, what hasn't, and what will never change

My focus of attention has always been Yashiro, but I've been gathering my thoughts on Doumeki these days... He's very interesting for analysis now and unfairly neglected by me. This evolvement actually gave him way more dimension, made him more engaging for readers like me. So I want to give my opinion on his present persona. Specifically, to address the dilemma about his cold demeanor: when he is acting, when he is not, what's changed and why. Of course, these are all just my personal thoughts, and might change as the story progresses and when we get some insight into his inner world...

This is a lengthy analysis, so I'll put the rest of the text under the cut (hopefully I've learned how to do that - we'll see :D)

I think most of us agree Doumeki's feelings haven't changed. Doumeki was mesmerized by Yashiro, borderline obsessed. He would've done anything for Yashiro (understandably - the guy is irresistible). But more than that, love for Yashiro gave meaning to Doumeki's existence: a passion for life and a reason to live, which he had fundamentally lacked before. He dedicated his life to Yashiro, because, without him, Doumeki would've been ripped of a meaning again. So he stayed in Yakuza, motivated only by the slim possibility of (maybe, someday, somehow) their paths crossing again. Yashiro wanted Doumeki to fly away and be free... but Doumeki can never be free, not while Yashiro is trapped. I've never thought their attachment to one another was healthy, but it was romantic to the bone. They simultaneously fixed and broke one other, touching each other's souls in a way that leaves lifetime consequences. They were literary created to be perfect for each other (that's canon), so yes, Doumeki's love is something that hasn't and will never change.

A big part of Doumeki's demeanor is not an act, not in essence. Sometimes, it's a safe representation of his accumulated hurt feelings. For example: "So you remember me, Kashira." or "You'd still do it with anyone". Those words reveal which Yashiro's actions hurt Doumeki. Doumeki also finds it important to emphasize that he's not Yashiro's little bird anymore. He's an independent, grown man. Now - they're equals: "I'm not your subordinate anymore (you can't kick me out)", "It’s my time and my body." (my love to take me where it wants). He's not reluctant to take actions, confront or provoke Yashiro: "Can you do it with me then? (See? I can even do it your way! Or maybe I still mean something to you, so you can't?)"

When is he saying the opposite of what he feels? Well, he conceals his feelings all the time and does a lot of damage control. For example, when he explained why he knocked out Kido: "No, I'm not furious because he spat in the face of the man I love right in front of me... I'm just doing it 'cause I'm Darkmeki!". In the bathroom scene: "No, I'm not impatient to see you naked, and it's not like I want to start a conversation because I'm interested in you and wanna learn where you stand now after four years of not seeing you... I'm just doing my duty, being a good host and... guarding... something... that I can't guard by the door outside the room." That whole conversation at the end of chapter 46 is a mess. Here is how I would translate his words: "it's not like I'm dying to touch you again after four years - even if it has to be like this - and it's not like that is the only thing I think about every time when I'm alone... I just want to take care of your needs, so you wouldn't compromise my business. It's not like the way Inami made you scream four years ago, still haunts me in my dreams or something. And no, my blood is not boiling at the mere thought of other men touching you and hurting you in my proximity... I just want to be your sole sexual partner because it makes total sense that your sex life would somehow seriously ruin my group's business." Yeah, Yashiro bought that. When Doumeki turns away from Yashiro after having a tense confrontation, he sometimes takes a moment to consolidate. But whenever Yashiro can see him - mask is on. Often, he's conveniently drawn in a way that prevents even us the readers to see his face in especially critical moments.

I won't talk much about the woman. I still like artemisrisen's theory quite a bit. I definitely think Doumeki's involvement with the woman is some kind of ruse, although I'm not opposed to the idea of him having a sexual relationship. After all, Doumeki thinks Yashiro is having sex left and right, so why not him? That would actually be more interesting. It's just... the way this is set up is way too suspicious. Something is not quite right. Regardless of the nature of their relationship and Doumeki's motivations, I guess her main purpose will be to ignite Yashiro's jealousy and bring him to the edge faster. One part of Yashiro probably deludes himself that Doumeki having a woman is good for him. Maybe even Doumeki thinks so. After all, these kinds of things help Yashiro stay a "bystander". But Yashiro could've never maintained that position with Doumeki successfully, and now It's practically impossible. He will soon realize how much Doumeki being involved with a woman just... really, deeply, uncontrollably, indisputably, unbearably hurts him.

Even though Doumeki seems to have mastered the art of concealing his feelings, his honesty and concern sometimes get through. In small things, like how he grabs and holds Yashiro in the bathroom, asking him if he's alright. Or when faced with greater danger. I believe the main reason he drove Yashiro home was because he was upset at the prospect of Yashiro getting involved in a dangerous feud between families. It wasn't very smart of Doumeki to confront him directly (because when has Yashiro ever valued his life? Danger will only make him want to stay and protect Doumeki). Nevertheless, I believe he didn't plan to push boundaries that night. Inami made him lose control for a second. Just like back at Tsukanawa's. Blinded with jealousy, anger, weird mix of possessiveness and protectiveness... and moments after he became aware that Yashiro wants something from him - yet flees (as always) - he made a move. That was a slip of his mask. But what was the worst that could happen? Yashiro to disappear from his life again? Maybe it's better for Yashiro to go away, a dangerous yakuza war is approaching.

Doumeki's detachment during intimate moments is absolutely deliberate. He's NOT doing it to hurt Yashiro's feelings, he's not doing it because his own feelings have changed, or because he has a girlfriend now. On the contrary. Doumeki knows he hurt Yashiro when he made love to him four years ago. Yashiro cried, and Doumeki looked at him and saw his sister. That made him feel like his worst fear (becoming like his father) came true, and it caused immense guilt and regret. Yashiro fled. Later, when they reunited, Doumeki promised not to touch him again. He wasn't able to figure out the problem, until he had that enlightening conversation with Nanahara on the roof. So... he shouldn't have forced intimacy on Yashiro. He shouldn't have lost control over his feelings. He had four years to drown in his guilt. He still doesn't know how deeply Yashiro was affected. That night of shared love absolutely destroyed everything that made Yashiro survive his formative years, subsequently making Yashiro unable to maintain his protective behavior successfully (so: impotence, engaging in retraumatizing sex - I've talked about it in my previous posts). Yashiro did hurt Doumeki - he shot the guy, went to a suicide mission right after Doumeki spilled his heart out to him, then he pretended not to remember him - but if we combine all the extreme measures Yashiro took to push Doumeki away, I don't think it would ever even come close to the pain Doumeki (unintentionally, but still) caused Yashiro the night they made love. He doesn't want to hurt him like that ever again.

So yes, Doumeki is cold and distant, cautious and calculating. He's still not aware of Yashiro's emotional progress. All he knows is that Yashiro can't deal with feelings. He thinks nothing has changed. From Doumeki's point of view, everyone can have Yashiro more than him. So he shows Yashiro he can be safe too, his feelings are no longer a danger. When Doumeki started to undress him, Yashiro said the same thing he always says: "Just get done with it quickly". One unexpected (and maybe slightly worrisome) side effect of Doumeki's emotional blockage, is that it partly crippled his intuition. Yashiro is in a very fragile state of mind, his act is not impeccable anymore; he sometimes looks so vulnerable in front of Doumeki, but I'm not sure Doumeki notices. It seems like metaphorical "gloves" Doumeki wears, block the touch both ways. He looks determined to maintain the distance at any cost.

Even if Doumeki knew the truth (that Yashiro loves him and is coming to terms with his feelings; that he's starting to crave gentle touch; that he now dreams about kissing Doumeki; that Doumeki is the only person on Earth who Yashiro wants and who can please him at this moment) I don't think for a second that it would solve all their problems. Yashiro's struggle with love and intimacy will probably continue for a long time. He'll occasionally want to flee, provoke, challenge, push away. Four years weren't enough to annul previous thirty-six years (as we can see, Yashiro still can't quite break the damaging pattern of behavior - despite his realization, he's still engaging in violent sex), and these few days will certainly not be enough to magically erase the previous forty years. I'm doubtful Yashiro is ready for Doumeki's pre-timeskip level of affection, but he could be ready for a slightly different approach. The problem is, these two people never knew how to communicate properly, and I don't see that problem magically disappearing either. I think Yashiro is destined to lose control and fall apart at one moment, be crushed with his pain and all sorts of uncontrolled feelings. It can't be avoded, it's just a matter of time and circumstances. I hope Doumeki will be there to embrace him when it happens.

There is definitely a part of Doumeki that's changed on a deeper level. He's matured, toughened up. He faced his fears, lived through his pain, reached his hell and rose up stronger. He gained agency and independency Yashiro always wanted him to have. He's focused, resourceful, strategic. No one will ever say he's not fit for this world again, because he's learned to adapt really damn well. He displayed an outstanding will power (being one of those people who underestimated him, I'm actually impressed). But I think his core is the same. And he's undoubtedly still powered by love. So, in the end, both Tsukanawa and Yashiro were right: there are parts of people that change, and unchangeable parts we're predisposed to (nature vs. nurture debate is never-ending). We sometimes get a glimpse of Doumeki Yashiro loves; for example, when he's texting with the little girl he saved, being as sweet as a cuddly dog. That is a part of him he chooses not to make so prominent now.

Doumeki was never one-dimensional. He was never all sweetness, goodness and naivety - Yashiro idealized him. Which is strange to me... Yashiro saw Aoi receiving some pretty cold treatment at that time. Doumeki rejected his family, hurt his mother and sister immensely. He ignored Aoi for years, despite being aware of her worsening mental health. He was capable to inflict serious, life-threatening bodily injuries to people, without a second thought. In his relationship with Yashiro, he was pushy, often forceful in his displays of affection. He never knew how to respect boundaries. It doesn't matter if the breach was gentle or rough, lack of consent was undeniable. Yashiro repeatedly made a point of how Doumeki shouldn't idealize and romanticize him, while he at the same time kept idealizing Doumeki, staying blind to Doumeki's own inner darkness and underestimating his potential. In the end, I think, it was Yashiro who fell in love with an idealized version of Doumeki, much more than the opposite. Yashiro's emotional development was badly compromised, so it makes sense that the way he falls in love is immature. Part of it was Doumeki's fault, though. Even then, he was intentionally hiding parts of himself. His manipulation was far less skillful, everything was showing on his face (Yashiro probably didn't see it only because he didn't want to), but this time he's doing it so well that even we, the readers, are left to wonder. Both Kamiya and Yashiro said in front of him that yakuza are like actors, and Doumeki seems like he's learned just how to be one - an excellent one.

[plan-d-to-i]

It's literally in the first chapters of the book that a sad past & upbringing shouldn't be an excuse (the cultivator from small clan in Dafan Mountain). People really miss a lot of moral lesson in the story. Also, it's so funny the right or wrong bs those ppl like to talk about is xue yang line of excuse & mockery to xxc for intervening in the chang clan conflict & this fandom really think this is the moral of the story lmao

That's such a good point!

Dressed in a random assortment of clan colours, the crowd of disciples grumbled loudly as they climbed. “Both Clan Jin and Clan Jiang spoil that Young Master Jin rotten. Even at his young age, he’s already so arrogant and tyrannical. In the future, if the Lanling Jin Clan falls into his hands, it’ll only end in upheaval and rebellion. We might as well die!”

Wei Wuxian slowed.

A soft-hearted female cultivator sighed.“But how could they not spoil him? He lost both his mother and father at such a young age.”

“Ah, sister, you can’t talk like that. So what if both his mother and father are gone? The world is full of people who’ve lost both their parents—if everyone acted like he does, it would be a catastrophe!” (Chapter 8)

&

“You impotent, miserable failure. You have only yourself to blame. You were asking for it!” Xue Yang shouted at him.

That very moment, as Wei Wuxian looked upon Xiao Xingchen’s body, he saw himself. A miserable failure, covered in blood, impotent, fingers pointed at him, furious denouncements shouted in his face. Powerless to reverse the motion of the sky. Powerless to do anything but weep. (Chapter 41)

It's like MXTX already anticipated the reactions ppl might have to the story and gave definitive guides but ppl will still draw the completely opposite conclusion and side with the villains, the antagonists or the dull minded but vociferous mob and think they're reinventing literary analysis and divining the true intention of the story.

[kypatios]

Jason Todd headcanon where he goes back to finishing his studies, and finally enrols somewhere to study English literature. This is wildly funny for many reasons:-

1. The entire Batfam keeps making fun of him for being a menacing hulk but Jason is most definitely someone with a remarkably brilliant presence. Like how people get enthralled looking at wild wolves, he’s definitely someone who pings on your radar. Some larger than life, extremely tall, extremely buff guy with mildly feral eyes. Cue confused classmates that are both unsettled and wildly turned on (cuz it’s Gotham and college students already have zero self preservation instincts.)

2. There’s just something rather mesmerising about him, he’s intense and wildly beautiful in a ragged way. They all get the feeling that he’s a very potent sort of dangerous but eh, that’s charming. Especially because he’s been very polite, if a little curt to everyone. Not to mention the streak of white hair which just keeps flying around his face, yeah and no one will call him pretty to his face because they don’t actually want to die yet and they’ve seen him snap entire pens between his pinky and thumb- but actually that’s kind of hot.

2. He keeps almost entirely to himself and probably does not speak to anyone, ever. The only time anyone ever hears him speak is during the class where he goes all sharp and passionate while giving out his literary analysis or something. There are fan groups devoted to his voice because Jason sounds like he’s eaten two tons of gravel (something both him and Bruce have in common but pretend not to). It’s rich, and deep, and there are furious discourses about “someone better be recording when he speaks”.

3.Jason, with his mildly moronic tendencies, probably doesn’t talk to anyone not because he dislikes them, or that he doesn’t want to- he simply assumes he’s sort of scary and that if he tries to talk to anyone they would be uncomfortable. Because, logically, he is a huge hulking wall of muscle. He has absolutely no clue his mildly gruff and quiet personality has a fan following. Also his default setting is normally somewhere between ‘aggravating asshole’ and ‘bastard murder child’ so he doesn’t want to accidentally terrify people into oblivion.

4. His classmates, behind his back : “god look at his arms, he could totally snap us in half.”

5. “Wish he did.” (Zero self preservation instincts.)

6. Jason getting more and more confused as a large number of people keep trying to start conversation with him. (He thought people found him terrifying and off putting)

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day One, Hobbies

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Through three accidental bonding moments over their usually solo hobbies, Logan & Janus realize they have a bit in common & enjoy what the other has to offer.

CW: Food mention, NSFW insinuated very briefly, Greek mythology Word Count: 6497 Genre: Gen Rating: Gen Ships: Slowburn Loceit, slowburn Intruloceit, pre-established Intrulogical, pre-established Dukeceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​ @catalinaacosta​ @whatishappeningrightnow​ @anxiousbean4404​ @vexelore​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​ @serpentinesomebody​ @poptartsaysurloved​ @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @sanderdarksides​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​ @cosplayhanna​ @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​ @awesomerandomgirl1​ @loceitweek2021​​

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Without any effort made to conceal himself, Janus observed Logan and Remus from the kitchen pass through. Cynically his eyes measured the almost formal distance between the lovers on the couch. There was no need to guesstimate their familiarity; Remus gushed every chance he got about their private life but Janus was still nosey as ever. He leaned forward there with an elbow bent across the counter, the other propped up with an apple brought to his mouth every so often with a satisfying crunch. His gaze switched between keen on their movements and hazy as trains of thought whisked him away. 

Janus was aware his staring made Logan uncomfortable in these moments. He shifted, glanced in Janus’ direction, cleared his throat, pushed his glasses back unnecessarily, all as though being perceived so closely was an entirely new concept; but that was just another reason to continue. This was, after all, the Dark Side; his side, and far be it from Janus to let Logan forget that detail. Besides, it wasn’t like he was a peeping Tom, leering as their casual afternoon became intimate. No, whenever that occurred, Janus was out of the room faster than Remus could get it up.

Today was tedious in its domesticity. Remus scribbled like a madman with furious scritchscritchscritches in a notebook that seemed to change positions whenever Janus looked at him, specifically. Logan rested his head gently against a loosely balled fist. With a quiet schwiff every couple of minutes, he turned a page of the book in his lap. The room was silent otherwise.

Crunch. Schwiff. Scritchscritchscritch. Crunch. Schwiff. Scritchscritchscritch. Crunch -- The apple was finished and the sticky core was disposed of.

“Logan,” Janus called suddenly in a sweet tone as the trash’s lid closed. 

The Side in question stayed silent; either to finish the line his eyes were currently on or to give Janus a taste of his own uncomfortable medicine. Either way, Janus rounded the kitchen corner and balanced a hip against the arm rest next to Remus. A gloved hand idly found its way into his partner’s curls; thoughtlessly, Remus leaned into the feeling, but remained otherwise unresponsive, clearly content with his scribbling. Logan finally blinked up. His expression seemed indecisive between exasperated and dubious, with a predictable amount of disinterest.

“What is it you’re reading?” Janus asked, brows and chin raised with an amount of intrigue that Logan didn’t immediately trust. Not to say Logan didn’t trust Janus individually, but even if he was the Side who understood Deceit the best, there was still quite a bit of water under this particular bridge -- or, uh, whatever idiom would fit here.

Instead of responding verbally, Logan held up the blue and black cover for Janus to read himself; which he then did. With a slightly cocked head, the words were enunciated slowly.

“Born Under Saturn. The Character and Conduct of Artists; A Documented History From Antiquity to The French Revolution,” Janus blinked back up at Logan’s face, digesting the rather wordy sentence. “An analysis of historical artists?” He attempted to boil the topic down to something more … succinct as Logan lowered the book again.

“Basically,” He allowed, eyes poised to resume his reading.

Janus hummed with peaked interest and continued to watch as Logan’s demeanor receded from vaguely conversational to studiously mute once more. In truth, it sounded like a rather compelling read. Being Thomas’ Sides, of course, they were all inclined to art in some way; for the more left-brained Sides such as Janus and Logan however, the critique and reasoning behind the art and associated artists compelled them more frequently than the act of creating art, itself. 

“What’s the part about Saturn?” Janus asked with knitted brows, the hand in Remus’ hair going still as he interrupted again after a moment. This question seemed to get Logan going as he shifted in his seat.

“Well, I had assumed from the title that the study would be centered around evidence pertaining to when and where artists were born, alluding to the hypothesis that Saturnian positions and dispositions resulted in a certain type of artistic character,” Logan explained, annoyance bleeding into his tone as he placed the back of his hand on the page he was currently on in a humorless gesture.

“And I take it from your very contented mood that that’s exactly what the book is about,” Janus teased reflexively, taken aback by Logan’s sudden enthusiasm. Perhaps, Janus thought, he hadn’t been so bothered by being stared at and was simply wrestling with his expectations of the text.

“Ha ha,” He laughed dryly; the sound made Janus smirk. “Saturn is, unfortunately,” Logan waved his hand at the book, “Just a metaphor here.”

“A metaphor for what?” Janus pressed gently, giving a final tug of affection to Remus’ hair before retracting his hand; sensing the appendage being stolen, the distracted Creativity leaned to follow the stimulus until it was far out of reach. Janus turned away and sat delicately on the shallow coffee table in front of Logan, who then paused.

He didn’t wonder why Janus was interested in this topic; after all, he thought, philosophy and theoretical debate were right up Janus’ alley. Additionally, they were speaking about metaphors, he rationalized. Logan didn’t need to understand nor regularly use the literary device to know its practical application, particularly to Deceit who always spoke in those encumbering and roundabout ways. What Logan really paused for was a moment of recognition that after years of distant silence, they were embarking on a rather cordial discussion.

“The melancholic,” Logan explained.

“So not the Roman god?”

“Well, yes and no, but for the comparison to make sense, no is easier,” Janus nodded and crossed his legs, listening with intent held in his brows. “It is a tad convoluted but the theory relates to the history of the four humors,” Janus gave a soft, one-noted hum and Logan nodded. “After all, the Greek etymology for the word melancholy is melas, meaning black and kholé meaning bile; black bile, of course--”

“Being one of the four … fluids,” Janus scrunched his nose distastefully, “Associated with the four humors,” He finished his interruption, gesturing with a loose wrist. 

“Exactly,” Logan breathed with a surprised half smile.

“So what does Saturn have to do with black bile?” Janus asked reasonably.

“Well that part goes back to the interpretive study of Astrology,” Janus tilted his head with surprised interest. “Which, despite its dubious plausibility today, played a frequently understated role in the founding of modern science, especially modern psychology.” Logan paused, watching Janus’ face shift subtly in thought. 

“Forgive my relatively ignorant knowledge of Astrology,” Logan nodded permissibly as Janus began to piece the theory together with slow words, “But I guess what you’re saying, or rather, what you expected the book to say, is that artists all suffer from a melancholic disposition?” Logan hummed and shook his head, causing Janus to purse his lips. 

“Again, yes and no. The book is saying that, to some extent.”

“You had just been expecting the evidence to be reliant on literal Saturn rather than...whatever they’re actually using,” Janus tried again and was rewarded with another half smile.

“Are you nerds done yet?” Remus piped up suddenly as Logan opened his mouth to continue. Janus’ head turned and the awareness in his partner’s eyes made his own narrow; how long had he been attentive to their conversation? “I wanna show Lolo what I made.”

“Quite, then,” Janus smiled curtly at Remus who beamed with knowing sarcasm in a way that only Janus would be able to detect. Rat bastard. “Another time,” He promised almost provocatively as a parting to Logan, who looked rather miffed and torn between continuing this unexpectedly stimulating conversation and tending to his boyfriend’s desires.

Janus stood before brushing invisible dirt off himself. “Have a wonderful afternoon, lovebirds,” Janus lilted, fingers wiggling in a goodbye wave as his back disappeared down the hall.

Logan blinked several times before inhaling and turning to Remus, who seemed a few moments more patient and perhaps a little more amused than usual.

- - - - -

Remus’ door having gone unanswered, when music began to softly crackle from the direction of the kitchen, Logan followed it with a vague intrigue. He paused in the entry, blinking at the four black-sleeved and yellow-gloved hands that flitted about the counter spaces. They rifled through the fridge and plucked from the cabinets with a sense of mindlessness from their owner, who stood at the sink. Using his natural two arms, Janus filled various bowls with water as he hummed along to the quiet, bouncy swing song that played from an antique looking gramophone Logan could’ve sworn wasn’t there yesterday. The scene was fascinating, from a scientific point of view; he had never considered how Janus’ many arms worked and seeing them here, stretching out and acting as though they had their own sentience piqued his interest immensely. 

For long moments, Logan watched silently before the arms retracted, bringing various items back to the workspace closest to Janus. Packets of gelatin, food coloring -- Logan squinted from his position; corn syrup? The answer to a question he hadn’t asked made itself apparent as he recalled a few various tidbits Remus had given him about his partner. Logan cleared his throat to get Janus’ attention, satisfied with his distant examinations.

“Oh,” The baker turned around, excess arms disappearing inside him with a flourish as they completed their purpose of fetching. “Logan, good morning,” Janus greeted in a sunny tone, though confusion hinted in his eyes.

“Good morning,” He returned, taking conservative steps into the kitchen. He nodded at the gelatin packets. “So this is the gelatin art Remus talks about,” Logan observed without question.

“Remus talks about it?” Janus asked, reserved happiness in his distracted tone as he stepped from the sink to the counter and began measuring out tablespoons of corn syrup.

“Frequently,” Logan confirmed, crossing his arms casually. The conversation came to a peaceful lull as Janus began to stir the syrup and water. Concluding that, he turned and took steps that placed him closer than usual to the other.

“What does he say?” Janus asked like a teen greedy for rumors, giving a sly glance from under his lashes as he paused. The moment lingered as he reached around Logan for the gelatin packets he stood in front of, meeting his eyes all the while. Suddenly, Logan couldn’t remember a single thing Remus had ever said. The tips of his ears reddened with a blush that creeped up the back of his neck. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat.

“Just that you enjoy making gelatin,” Logan responded after Janus had made his way back to the counter, his posture feeling as stiff and unnatural as his answer. He could see the disappointment in the way Janus’ lips pursed as he began dumping the neutral colored gelatin into the solution.

“Is that so.”

“Yes,” Logan cleared his throat and again felt that his response was lame. It made the air between them go stale. How did Remus manage to speak with Janus so casually and with so much enthusiasm? Of course, he wouldn't be Remus without an absence of shame, but still; Logan found himself envying the fact. 

He was appreciative of the cheerful music that eased the awkwardness. Also that Janus didn’t seem to mind how apparently awful he was at idle conversations despite his desire to engage in them. After a few moments, Janus went back to humming as he repeated the task of pouring gelatin into the bowls and discarding the packets. As the heat in his face receded, Logan recalled more of Remus’ words over the time they had been dating. 

He always spoke very highly of his partner, which was to be expected. Janus was graceful, patient, and, quote, ridiculously smart. Despite taking everything Remus had to say with mounded tablespoons of realism flavored salt, examining Janus now and through the lens of their recent interactions, Logan would have to agree. 

“He has an awful habit,” Janus revived the conversation as one song faded into the next. He turned and leaned back against the counter; as he spoke, he slowly began turning the knob of a manual can opener against a can of condensed milk. “Of eating various inedible things,” Janus scrunched his nose and Logan exhaled. “You won’t believe the things he’s consumed over the years.”

“That’s why you make the gelatin, correct?” Logan asked, hoping this time his phrasing opened up the possibility for more elaboration.

“Mhm,” Janus hummed with a shallow nod and twisted the lid off before throwing it in the trash as well. He turned and stirred the thickened milk into the largest bowl of water and corn syrup. Discomfort washed over Logan once more as he began to realize the conversation had died again. His head fell but soon snapped up as Janus thankfully continued after a moment.

“Of course it doesn’t negate the problem entirely,” His tone was less annoyed than Logan would’ve thought. Though there was plenty of quiet frustration, mostly he sounded concerned and tired. “But I like to imagine it helps some at least.” 

“I think it helps more than you realize,” Logan offered slowly in a tone that was sure of itself despite the confusion in his brow. Did Janus not realize his instrumental intervention?

Remus never really shut up about how much he appreciated Janus. The various ways Janus managed him and his mental health over their lifetime together, how effortless Janus made it all look; Logan had to admit, hearing about it constantly was rather intimidating, especially at the beginning of their relationship. He had high expectations to meet if everything Remus said was true, and like he thought before, it was beginning to look that way as Logan got to know Janus for himself. Remus talked a fair amount about how much he appreciated Logan as well though, so he never did have much of a chance to get demoralized about it. Even so, gauging the dynamic between Janus and Remus without his interference was a bit startling as everything came into focus.

They flowed together easily; in the interactions Logan had witnessed, their affection always had a sense of routine and familiarity, but not in the stale way that felt boring after years of repetition. Perhaps, Logan began to think, it had clouded his view a bit and prevented him from questioning if Remus ever expressed his gratitude to Janus, directly. The likelihood that he didn’t seemed infinitesimal, and yet the doubt was still clear in Janus’ words. Was it that he didn’t believe Remus then?

Janus cautioned a look at Logan from over his shoulder, surprise and then confusion flashed across his features; exactly how much did Remus talk about him? He didn’t mind being complimented of course, he adored praise, but something about the idea of Remus jumping into a new relationship only to gush about him constantly didn’t sit right with him. Especially if that person was Logan. Who knew how Logan felt after all this time? Janus scrunched his nose and tossed the now empty can with a sense of distaste.

“I suppose he talks about me too much if you think that,” His tone was apologetic as he gave the mixture a final stir before turning to meet Logan’s eyes with a flashy smile. “Enough about all that though; would you like to help?”

Logan blinked, his mind catching up to the topic dismissal. “Help?” He repeated automatically before realizing what Janus meant. “Oh. No,” He unfolded his arms to wave a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not one for baking, I’ll just get in the way.”

“Nonsense,” Janus insisted, reaching forward to gently steal Logan by his sleeve. “If you need more motivation than just my requesting, think about how thrilled Remus will surely be knowing you had a hand in this batch.”

Logan let himself be pulled towards the workstation, not having it in him to refuse Janus’ smile and persistence more than once.

“I suppose you have a point,” He conceded with a sigh and Janus clapped his hands together quietly.

“Splendid,” he plucked the box of food coloring from the counter and pushed the dark blue dropper into Logan’s hands. “This is the easy part anyway. I trust you completely.”

Somehow, the implication of Janus trusting him made him pause, feeling his chest going warm. Logan stared down at the small bottle in his hands, feeling even more clueless now being involved than he had simply watching Janus; but Janus still trusted him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Janus was trusting him on reputation alone, something the others consistently seem to find inconceivable. Not often was Logan trusted so explicitly, which was concerning to say the least, but function aside, the sentiment filled him with unexpected happiness. 

“Just get this,” Janus tapped one of bowls filled with water, corn syrup, and gelatin, “As close to this shade,” He then pointed to the blue swirl part of the Tide Pod resting between the various ingredients, “As you can get,” Janus finished with another disarming smile. Forcing himself to look away, Logan thought that at the rate Janus used that sort of charm on him like that, he’d never remember anything ever again.

“Okay,” He asserted slowly with a nod and unscrewed the small bottle. As he set to dropping small amounts of the dye before stirring and comparing the colors, Janus seemed to be doing the same with a shade of bright orange. “I suppose that’s good,” Logan ascertained after a few silent moments, holding the clear bowl up to his face for closer inspection.

“Flawless, I would say,” Janus complimented, completing his own color a second later. “Next,” He said slowly and reached to gather several of one kind of item that Logan didn’t immediately recognize, “We set the molds,” Janus explained as he neatly lined about a dozen purple, palm sized squares between them. Logan uttered a small, ah, in understanding.

He scanned the counter for a tool that would be useful here; the idea of pouring the liquid straight into the molds seemed rather silly and messy. If this were Patton, Logan wouldn’t put it past him, but Janus was far more structured, far more sensible.

“Should we use those?” Logan asked, reaching for the rather thick gauge baking syringes set to the side as Janus opened the molds to reveal a swirl shape identical to the signature Tide Pod.

“A step ahead of me,” Janus lilted with a nod, raising his eyes just enough to spot the syringes he planned on retrieving next. “Go on then,” He pointed his chin at the gelatin, reaching over Logan for a needle of his own. “I trust it’s fairly self explanatory for you.”

And it was; the entire procedure wasn’t particularly challenging, as long as Janus wasn’t smiling at him or charming him out of his brain cells. Logan drew up about half the syringe’s barrel and then held one half of the mold in his palm. Comparing it to the Tide Pod, he began to gently squeeze the blue solution along half of the swirl pattern, dragging it across the material for an even consistency. Janus smiled to himself, watching from the corner of his eye and began to do the same with his own orange gelatin, working from the opposite end of the line. 

“When it comes to the ones already filled,” Janus began as they approached meeting in the middle, though before he could finish, Logan interrupted knowingly.

“I suppose I should avoid picking the mold up so as to not disrupt the other side,” He guessed and positioned his syringe at a different angle, experimenting with how he should go about it now before settling on a method.

“Precisely,” Janus delighted quietly, moving behind Logan and out of his way to fill in the orange sides of the already completed blue ones. “Typically,” He continued as they settled back into a rhythm, “I just do both colors at once, holding it as you had started,” Janus glanced out of the corner of his eye; Logan looked so concentrated, it was impossible not to find the focus in his eyes adorable. For a brief moment, before Janus continued, Logan began to worry that he was getting in the way as he feared. If Janus had a certain way of doing this and he was doing it wrong, comparatively, then it was just as he thought; that he shouldn’t have gotten involved. 

“But I don’t quite mind this either,” Janus finished softly and Logan exhaled the breath he didn’t realize was being held. As the silence began to press on, he started to wish he could figure out something to say to Janus’ kindness. Then he wondered if this was how Remus often felt.

As Janus took Logan’s empty syringe and quickly rinsed both of theirs in the sink, he explained their next and final step before they would be placed in the fridge until completion. Sealing the molds with their domed, other half, they would repeat the filling action with the condensed milk and gelatin mixture.

“Simple enough,” Logan said as he accepted the syringe that Janus handed him with a smile. This time, Logan offered his own small expression before the two set to work. After a few silent moments, he continued with a rather impulsive question. “Does Remus ever help you with this?” Surely he did; in the same way Logan found it impossible that Remus never expressed his gratitude to Janus, he couldn’t fathom that the two didn’t enjoy this together.

“Oh, no, never,” Janus answered immediately with an appalled tone. Logan blinked, his hand going still as he again reevaluated how he perceived their relationship. “The first and only time I tried to get him to help,” He continued, his own hands pausing to stare wide eyed and offended at Logan, “He ate three of my molds!”

Logan couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips, though he tried to dismiss it quickly by pursing them and looking away. The distress Janus clearly felt for something so simple was … a bit bewildering, but also very him, Logan decided. He got the sense that Remus would love to help, if he could, but that he had the habit of ruining Janus’ things in the process. With a heavy sigh, Janus went back to filling the molds and when Logan could keep the smile out of his voice, he continued.

“The other day he brought a few rocks from the Imagination to my room and asked what they were. He does that,” Logan glanced at Janus, “Stops by and asks questions like that, but when I located my geology kit, the first thing he did,” Logan smiled again, fondness creeping into his tone despite himself, “Was tear the handbook pages in excitement,” Janus clicked his tongue and shook his head, empathizing with the tragedy, but Logan continued, gesturing in small ways now. “It was completely illegible,” Logan paused, recalling the fear in Remus’ expression as he apologized profusely, handing the torn book back by the tips of his fingers. 

“Was?” Janus prompted quietly, watching Logan’s faintly passionate storytelling from the corner of his eye.

“At least for its intended use as a portable guide. If you pushed the papers together, you could piece the sentences but,” Logan paused again and shook his head, “He insisted on writing it, all of it. He took one of my notebooks right there and stared down at the little book and wrote everything he could make out,” Logan laughed dryly and resumed filling the mold he had stopped on. “I bet he has the entire handbook memorized now.”

“He adores you very much then,” Janus said without reservation, without even looking away from the molds. The conclusion caught Logan off guard and silence persisted as he waited for Janus to elaborate; but no such continuation came. Again Logan found himself holding his breath, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know that Remus loved him. He said it at least ten times a day. It just felt very different coming from someone who’s known Remus for so long, Logan guessed. It’s different when someone else can see love that easily.

“I know,” Logan whispered sentimentally after a while, and wondered in the enduring silence of their work if he should’ve said that Remus loved Janus very much, too.

- - - - -

Janus paused on the bottom step of the Dark Side stairs as he spotted Logan, bent slightly at the waist and jotting something down on a rather large stack of white paper. The astringent smell of Sharpies was unavoidable. While it certainly wasn’t new at this point for Logan to be found here on a casual basis, it was a bit strange that Remus wasn’t in the immediate area.

“Hello, Logan,” Janus greeted in a smiling tone as he continued into the room and approached the workspace that was their dining table. 

“Hello,” He returned the friendly gesture without tearing his eyes away or stopping his hand from drawing a simplistic symbol in one of the dated squares.

“What brings you here without your typical consort?” Now peering over Logan’s shoulder, Janus realized it wasn’t just any stack of paper he was writing on, but a wall calendar.

“Remus just went to the bathroom. He’ll probably be back in a few moments.”

Janus made a soft sound of understanding and continued to watch. Capping the silvery marker he had been using, Logan switched it out for a dark blue one. Intrigue growing, Janus observed as he neatly drew an open circle, then some complex looking arrow shape beside it. Next Logan drew an odd arch shape on the other side of the square beside another open circle, this one with a dot in the center. Then two smaller circles diagonal from each other connected with a single line. Finally, next to that symbol, he drew a half crescent moon. Janus’ brows furrowed delicately. 

“Logan, dear?” 

“Hm?”

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Logan blinked and paused before slowly standing from his leaning position. He … didn’t really know where to begin. Talking about his hobby with Remus was one thing; while his boyfriend readily listened to his enthusing and had even offered his artistic expertise in ‘livening up’ the calendar today, the idea of explaining it to Janus felt like a different beast altogether. Why was that? Logan observed his feelings on the matter, staring down at the calendar. The writing there was neither impressive nor sloppy, but a typical middle ground of insignificantly informative, in his opinion. Mindlessly, he brought the marker up to his chest and capped it with a decisive click. His stomach became uneasy imagining himself divulging eagerly, about anything, to Janus. Why was that?

“I’m,” Indulging in a pseudoscience? Partaking in something that is unreliable and interpretive at best? Having an indemonstrable belief system? Being less than serious? Logan turned to face Janus, his arms falling to his sides. “Calculating planetary positions and hypothesizing on their potential,” Spiritual? Emotional? “Financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” Logan’s heart raced. He counted the beats. One, two, three, fourfivesixseveneight--

“I see,” Janus said reflexively but then paused to digest the sentence. It sounded interesting enough to him; foresight was high on his list of well regarded practices. Whatever helped in that pursuit, Janus found at least a little compelling. Though he cocked his head slightly and gave Logan a once over. Was he acting rather … defensive? There was no lie in his words, Janus would’ve immediately known after all, but he got the sense that he wasn’t being painted the full picture here. 

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Logan’s collar. Janus wasn’t looking at him in any specific way, there wasn’t anything interrogative about the silence, in fact Janus’ expression was rather polite. Logan had noticed at some point that Janus looked at him more like an equal than any of the other accepted Sides. In return, he had come to trust the intrigue frequently found in his expressions. And yet he was anxious. Why? Historically, talking to Janus had never made him nervous before, sharing in pastimes together hadn’t either, so … why did he feel like sinking through the soles of his shoes and never speaking about this, ever again?

“Well,” Janus broke the silence with his entertained tone. “You were always into space and such, I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Logan inhaled through his nose, more suddenly than he meant to, and realized only now there was a tension in his hands as they twitched to relax. Janus didn’t see anything wrong with his description of the hobby, but the fact was that he didn’t know the whole story. Logan’s explanation was, of course, accurate; accurate enough to not count as a lie, but Janus’ suspicion was warranted. A suspicion that was much closer to curiosity than Logan realized in his paranoid attempt to seem and sound more serious than necessary.

“Yes,” He mumbled and turned back around to the calendar. Janus watched with narrowed eyes as Logan placed the marker back with the rest, seeming to have a particular order that they belonged in. After a pause, he diverted his attention to the open, beige colored notebook on the other side of the table. Logan began to lightly drag a finger along the bottom of a written line of symbols there. Janus could only assume he was committing their exact meaning to memory in a way only someone like Logan could.

“So tell me,” Janus interrupted again as he elegantly sat himself down at the table opposite Logan, whose train of thought halted abruptly. “What do those symbols mean?” Janus asked, cradling his cheek in his palm as he reached the other hand to point at the five dark blue markings Logan had made. Logan swallowed and blinked slowly, bracing himself. There was no way he made it out of this conversation with Janus’ opinion of him remaining positive.

Keeping his tone as neutral as possible, Logan then dragged his finger along each symbol as it was defined, meeting Janus’ inquisitive eyes with his own hesitant gaze.

“Full moon,” Open circle, “Sagittarius,” arrow. Logan directed his finger to the other side of the square, dictating that those two symbols didn’t correlate in a direct sense to the next three. “Gemini,” He continued, pointing to the odd arch shape, “Sun,” dotted open circle, “Opposition,” the two smaller circles connected by the thin line, “Moon,” Logan finished at the half crescent moon shape.

A puzzled look flashed across Janus’ face before the words connected like a puzzle, forming a sentence he understood theoretically but in no literal way; full moon in Sagittarius, Gemini sun, opposition moon … which was in Sagittarius then? Janus could only guess. These were phrases he’s heard before, of course, but Logan said them in a way that felt far more significant than any well-rated horoscope app had.

Logan let Janus ruminate on his explanation, hoping no more questions came at the detriment of his reputation. Again he started to consult his notebook, but it was only a few moments before Janus spoke again.

“So … what’s the significance of … all that?” He asked and Logan’s mind raced in the same way Remus, Roman, and Virgil could speak at a mile a minute.

“The significance,” Logan began after what felt like much longer than a moment of struggling to quiet his mind, “Is as I said; potential financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” He completed in a mumble before clearing his throat, unable to meet Janus’ eyes anymore, causing the latter to frown.

The fact that Logan was growing increasingly uncomfortable wasn’t lost on Janus, of course. He watched the gears churning in Logan’s mind as mental gymnastics were performed. It wasn’t a secret to Denial why he felt discontented currently; being taken seriously was paramount to this Side and everyone had a long history of finding Logic to be a joke. After years of being dismissed without advocacy, Janus could only hope to display a patience and interest deep enough for Logan to find himself comfortable in his presence again.

“As you said,” Janus agreed, dismissing that superficial statement. “But what about that one, specifically? It’s in blue so I assume it has some significance.”

Logan’s lips tightened; where did he even begin? Explaining the correspondence between phenomena and full moons? Diving into Jupiter’s mythology and Sagittarius’ significance to Thomas, personally, as his moon ruler? The unease in his stomach shifted up his throat.

“Oh hey, Dee!” Remus suddenly interrupted as he returned from down the hall. If Logan were a man of lesser self control, he may have jumped right out of his skin.

They both turned to blink at the entrance, Logan a second too late as Remus dotted an affectionate kiss to his cheek. Rigidly, he gave a half-lipped smile to the gesture.

“Lolo telling you about his nerdy Astrology stuff?” Remus plopped himself into a chair between them at the table.

“Just a little,” Janus said as he sat back and crossed his legs.  

“Booooo,” Remus cheered, giving Logan a thumbs down before grinning. He leaned over to peer at the dark blue symbols that were drawn while he was away. “Full moon in Sagittarius,” Remus read like he was fluent in this second language Janus had only just learned the existence of. “And uh,” He paused, cocked his head in order to read the markings easier, “Gemini sun, uh, what’s that one again, Lolo?” Remus pointed at the connected, diagonal circles. 

Janus narrowed his eyes. He got the sense that Remus could easily say what that sign meant, but had asked Logan in order to hear him talk about it. How sweet.

“Opposition,” Logan repeated like a sigh as he reached to scratch the back of his neck. “Since the sun is in Gemini for most of this month, it will be opposing the moon’s position in Sagittarius that day.”

“Does that spell trouble for Tommyboy?” Remus asked mischievously, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the unused seat behind Logan.

“On the contrary,” Logan responded, opening his mouth to continue but then quickly closing it as the corner of his vision registered Janus again. 

The frown on Janus’ lips grew deeper as he silently observed the two. It seemed to come down to him and his effects on Logan’s nerves; the assumption that he would dismiss him like Patton, Roman, and Thomas, or say that he was wrong like Virgil.

“Please,” Janus urged in his most genuine tone as he held up his hands like a white flag. “Pretend I’m not here, do carry on.”

Logan inhaled slowly and seemed to take his time believing that sentiment. Another mental stalemate began; Logan wrestled with the expectations he held himself to, the assumed expectations Janus had of him, and the misconception that his hobby would be seen as silly or less than in any way. The silence dragged on until Remus broke the tension once more.

“Yeah, c’mon Lolo. Dee listens to me rant about stupid shit all the time. He’s got the patience of a Saint, I swear,” Remus smirked at Janus, who then reached out to pull affectionately on his partner’s ear.

“Like I have a choice with you,” Janus mumbled fondly, lacing his voice with thick sarcasm. 

Quickly, Remus turned his head like a baited shark and bit after Janus’ hand as it was retracted, narrowly missing the appendages with his teeth. Janus rolled his eyes and Remus beamed before shifting in his seat and staring up at Logan expectantly.

Logan’s chest burned with some unfamiliar feeling as he watched the clearly loving display. Naming emotions certainly wasn’t his strong suit, but whatever it was tightened his throat and made swallowing difficult. As usual for him, the feeling was quickly pushed away.

Which caused it to land directly into Denial’s jurisdiction. Janus had long perfected the art of remaining stoic in the face of blindsiding emotions that weren’t his own; which of course included now, as the denial of jealousy swiftly punched him in the stomach. Janus’ breathing stopped as he waited for the familiar pang of envy to subside, knowing by instinct that the originator stood before him.

“I suppose,” Logan continued after a moment before clearing his throat. “It is on the contrary that Thomas will be experiencing anything negative on this day or the two previous days leading up to this full moon,” He reached to flip a page in his notebook, revealing a neatly drawn chart of dates and signs. His finger rested decisively next to three in particular. “The moon will be in Sagittarius, opposing the current sun sign; Gemini. This is particularly good for Thomas since he has a natal Sagittarius moon.”

“Laaaaaame,” Remus exaggerated belligerently. Having been through this before, Logan gave a renewed half smile, knowing Remus only found Thomas’ lack of misfortune ‘lame’ and not the inherency of his explanation.

Janus exhaled finally as the emotional turmoil in his stomach subsided with Logan’s contentment. His chin raised curiously, eyeing the revealed page. This all sounded fascinating. He got the feeling that there was so much more to this topic, and that he would be very willing and rather eager to listen to it all as long as it was coming from Logan.

“Tell me, Lolo,” Remus said in a dark voice, frantically leaning forward, splaying his palms on the table and disregarding the way his quick movement made Logan’s markers roll away. “Do your charts and shit say when he’ll die?”

“No,” Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. The air turned sweet and Janus’ brows raised despite himself. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’d be incredibly subjective anyway,” Logan gestured dismissively and turned away, catching sight of Janus’ intrigued smirk. The expression made him gulp. “It’s all incredibly subjective,” He continued, now in a mumble as he went to close his notebook. 

Hastily, Logan began to gather the haphazard markers like he planned on packing his project away for the day. Lie and jealousy aside, Janus found himself invested.

“Well,” He began as Logan took a step back from the table to stare at the floor, seeming to have lost a marker in Remus’ chaos. “I thought it was all rather … enchanting,” Janus flirted unashamedly, producing the green hued utensil between his fingers with a curled smile. Logan blinked, the tips of his ears going red. “You’ll tell me more sometime?” Janus insisted, turning the thing in his grip and offering it more pointedly.

Logan swallowed and reached to quickly pluck the object from Janus’ fingers. 

“Sure,” He sighed, suddenly feeling like he had agreed to something rather damning.

“Delightful.”

Chapter One || Chapter Two

[godsofhumanity]

BOOK IV | HOMER'S ILIAD | LITERATURE REVIEW

SUMMARY: Zeus and Hera argue about the war- Hera trades the destruction of her favourite cities (Argos, Sparta, and Mycenae) for the destruction of Troy, and Zeus agrees. Athena returns to the battlefield and encourages Pandarus on the Trojans' side to shoot an arrow at Menelaus, thereby breaking the truce between the armies and resuming the war. Agamemnon, fiercely insulted by the betrayal, rallies his armies to prepare for war once more.

previous book / all books / next book

a shorter analysis today because i didn't feel like there were any particularly new literary techniques employed by Homer, and there wasn't a lot of foreshadowing or anything like that to talk about.

Book IV begins with Zeus and the rest of the gods sitting in Olympus. Zeus makes a comment about the lengths to which Hera will go in order to see one city (Troy) destroyed.

literary-wise, i don't really have anything to say about the passage, but i did really enjoy the teamwork Hera and Athena have together. we constantly get these little snippets of Hera and Athena working really well together to achieve their goal...

and yet, i love the way Homer still manages to make clear the distinction between the two goddesses:

"Athene and Hera muttered their discontent [at Zeus] as they sat side by side hatching mischief for the Trojans. Athene scowled at her father, for she was in a furious passion with him, and said nothing, but Hera could not contain herself."

even though Athena is just as pissed off at Zeus as Hera is, she still remembers her place and doesn't speak a word against her father and her king.. yet, Hera, queen of the gods and equal to Zeus is fully prepared to speak against Zeus, and to criticise and question him.

and she does! Hera is irritated by Aphrodite's intervention which has brought the war to a stop, and Zeus' wish to end the war then and by making peace between the two sides. Hera, whom we know from other myths to be hot-headed and ill-tempered, isn't about to sit down and let all her and Athena's hard work go to waste without seeing Troy crumble...

Zeus retorts back to Hera's argument, asking her why she's so insistent, and the imagery he uses is, maybe, one of my most favourite lines in the whole poem:

"My dear, what harm have Priam and his sons done you that you are so hotly bent on sacking the city of Ilium? Will nothing do for you but you must go within their walls and eat Priam raw, with his sons and all other Trojans to boot? Have it your own way then; for I would not have this matter become a bone of contention between us."

the idea of Hera "eating Priam raw" is hilarious to me.. it truly does paint the image of Hera as some relentless, cold-blooded beast.. in particular, it draws in my mind the image of another particular god who was in the habit of consuming people raw... Goya's Saturn Devouring His Son painting summarises this image of Hera pretty well in my opinion!

another thing i find interesting about this line is that Zeus actually does agree to destroy Troy! and why? because he doesn't want to fight with Hera anymore.

Zeus in the Iliad is a very interesting character. initially, he had sworn to Thetis that he'd ensure Troy was destroyed as compensation for Achilles losing Briseis to Agamemnon, and when Hera questioned him about it, Zeus seemed pretty unwilling to disclose the details of his promise to Hera.

in the couple's other interactions, we've only really seen Hera getting angry at Zeus, and then Zeus frowning at her and cutting her back down to size with threats.. but, in Book IV, i really feel like their relationship comes through a little more.

they're not simply arguing here, but it feels like they're more balanced in power than they have been previously. in particular, i adore the way Hera asserts herself here:

"[Even if I tried to defend my cities, if you wished to destroy them you could] for you are much stronger than I am, but I will not have my own work wasted [and see Troy live]. I too am a god and of the same race with yourself. I am Cronus' eldest daughter, and am honourable not on this ground only, but also because I am your wife and you are king over the gods. Let it be a case, then, of give-and-take between us, and the rest of the gods will follow our lead."

previously, when Zeus argued with Hera, Hera would simply settle down for fear of being hurt by Zeus, but here, Hera actually takes a big stand.. she reminds Zeus of her status as a daughter of Cronus and Queen of Olympus. and this time, Zeus actually agrees.

in the next part, Athena goes down in disguise and encourages Pandarus to shoot Menelaus, before quickly darting back to direct the arrow away from any of Menelaus' vital organs.

there are two things about this scene that i noted- the first being that Pandarus doesn't recognise Athena's divinity. as i've mentioned in previous posts, i think that the ability to recognise a god in disguise is an indicator of the heroicness/worthiness of being a hero.. and it seems, Pandarus doesn't make the cut. this is further emphasised with the description of Pandarus having a "fool's heart".

the second thing is the "dimensioning" of Athena's character:

"But the blessed gods did not forget... Menelaus... [Athena] was the first to stand before [him] and ward off the piercing arrow. She turned it from his skin as a mother whisks a fly from off her child when it is sleeping sweetly."

i feel, personally, that a lot of people cut Athena's character down only to her warrior side. she isn't often presented as a maternal character, but here, Homer's simile enforces this aspect of her.

Homer could have just as easily written that Athena defended Menelaus "like a shepherd defending his flock from the preying wolves" or something like that, but i feel that the use of "a mother whisking a fly from off her child" was very intentional.

i think we often forget Athena's very important role as the patron of heroes, and undoubtedly, she has a maternal, caring side. and i think this scene captures it very well. it makes it seem like there's more to Athena simply making sure she gets revenge on Aphrodite, but that there's a deep, personal connection between her and her selected heroes, and gives her character more depth.

in any case, that's all i really felt was worth discussing. the rest of the book follows the ensuing war, and captures pretty perfectly the brutal reality of war as several people on both sides fall prey to death.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

2020 reading roundup

feat: every book I read this year!

Favorite fiction:

Witchmark (C.L. Polk) 

Kindred (Octavia E. Butler) 

Fledgling (Octavia E. Butler)

The Killing Moon (N.K. Jemisin)

The Shadowed Sun (N.K. Jemisin) 

Circe (Madeline Miller) 

Freshwater (Akwaeke Emezi) 

The House in the Cerulean Sea (T.J. Klune) 

My Sister, the Serial Killer (Oyinkan Braithwaite) 

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter (Alexis Hall) 

Gideon the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) 

The Traitor Baru Cormorant (Seth Dickinson)

Further fun/fabulous/fruity fiction:

The Beautiful Ones (Silvia Moreno-Garcia)

Stormsong (C.L. Polk)

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home (Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor)  

Rat Queens, vol. 1-4 (Kurtis J. Wiebe)

The Deep (Rivers Solomon)  

The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller) 

Gods of Jade and Shadow (Silvia Moreno-Garcia) 

Books that left me furious at death for taking Octavia Butler before she could write another sequel and tell us just what the hell Earthseed was getting up to out there in space:

Parable of the Talents (Octavia E. Butler)

Books that gave me a new appreciation for the short story as an art form:

Falling In Love with Hominids (Nalo Hopkinson)

Books that I didn’t get into right away but then they REALLY picked up and by the time the Big Reveal happened I was screaming like a howler monkey and feeling like a fool for not catching on sooner:

The City We Became (N.K. Jemisin)

Novellas that made me cry in record time, which is entirely unsurprising given the author:

To Be Taught, If Fortune (Becky Chambers) 

Books that frankly took me by surprise and made me think I should be reading more horror, or at least more Stephen Graham Jones:

The Only Good Indians (Stephen Graham Jones) 

Sequels that were good but also made my head hurt because Jesus Christ, oh my god, WHAT is going on:

Harrow the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir)

Books that I LIKED but wanted to like more than I actually did:

The Taste of Marrow (Sarah Gailey)

The Ballad of Black Tom (Victor LaValle) 

In the Vanishers’ Palace (Aliette de Bodard) 

Upright Women Wanted (Sarah Gailey)

The Devourers (Indra Das) 

Sister Mine (Nalo Hopkinson) 

Mexican Gothic (Silvia Moreno-Garcia) 

Axiom’s End (Lindsay Ellis)

Totally respectable literary fiction that I cannot in good conscience lump into literally any other category:

Real Life (Brandon Taylor)

It was fine and I feel bad for not having anything particularly positive or negative or interesting at all to say about it, but it really and truly was just kind of alright:

My Lady’s Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel (Kitty Curran and Larissa Zageris)

Favorite nonfiction:

In the Dream House (Carmen Maria Machado)

How We Fight for Our Lives (Saeed Jones)

An Autobiography (Angela Y. Davis)

Feed (Tommy Pico)

Ace: What Aseuxality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex (Angela Chen)

Black Women, Black Love: America’s War on African American Marriage (Dianne M. Stewart)

Heavy: An American Memoir (Kiese Laymon)

Notable nifty nonfictions: 

The Dark Fantastic: Race and Imagination from Harry Potter to the Hunger Games (Ebony Elizabeth Thomas) 

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? Big Questions from Tiny Mortals About Death (Caitlin Doughty)

So You Want to Talk About Race (Ijeoma Oluo)

A Curious History of Sex (Kate Lister)

Republic of Lies: American Conspiracy Theorists and Their Surprising Rise to Power (Anna Merlan) 

Pleasure in the News: African American Readership and Sexuality in the Black Press (Kim T. Gallon) 

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women White Feminists Forgot (Mikki Kendall) 

Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower (Brittney Cooper) 

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality (Jane Ward)

Other people’s lives that I happily devoured:

Dear America: Notes From an Undocumented Citizen (Jose Antonio Vargas)  

Wow, No Thank You (Samantha Irby)  

I’m Afraid of Men (Vivek Shraya)

The Collected Schizophrenias: Essays (Esmé Weijun Wang) 

Uncomfortable Labels: My Life as a Gay Autistic Trans Woman (Laura Kate Dale) 

Brown Girl Dreaming (Jacqueline Woodson)

When They Call You A Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir (Patrisse Khan-Cullors) 

Poetry & personal essays that I wanted to Get but didn’t quite:

Homie (Danez Smith)

Something That May Shock and Discredit You (Daniel M. Lavery)  

More Than Organs (Kay Ulanday Barrett) 

Junk (Tommy Pico)

Nonfiction that was interesting but also incomprehensible in many places because I don’t have a degree in biology, which I guess is my bad:

Dr. Tatiana’s Sex Advice to All Creation (Olivia Judson) 

Nonfiction that was interesting but also felt lacking in its analysis, perhaps as an inevitable side effect of trying to publish it quickly enough to stay topical:

Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger (Soraya Chemaly) 

Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger (Rebecca Traister)

Sweet graphic novels:

The Prince and the Dressmaker (Jen Wang) 

Shadow of the Batgirl (Sarah Kuhn)

Books that are significant for various reasons and good to read but sort of felt like homework:

Stone Butch Blues (Leslie Feinberg) 

Are Prisons Obsolete? (Angela Y. Davis)

Books I reread during quarantine even though I am not generally much of a rereader:

Her Body and Other Parties (Carmen Maria Machado)

Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) 

A Small Place (Jamaica Kincaid)

Books that weren’t really for me but probably would have rocked my socks if I read them when I was like 14:

Internment (Samira Ahmed) 

The Seven Necessary Sins for Women and Girls (Mona Eltahawy) 

Periods Gone Public: Taking a Stand for Menstrual Equity (Jennifer Weiss-Wolf) 

The Bone Witch (Rin Chupeco) 

Pet (Akwaeke Emezi) 

[hi-random-pipol]

Vicariously Digging in  “Afraid” by Jeffery Deaver: A Literary Analysis of Grade 11 Students

  The title of this book is Afraid, and Jeffery Deaver wrote it. The main characters of this book are Antonio, who made a fortune in computers, and Marissa Carrefiglio, who is one year older than Antonio. Marissa was a fashion designer, but she was forced to manage the arts and antique operation because of a family business. Antonio and Marissa met a month ago. Antonio brings Marissa to an old mill. Marissa wants to see Antonio's cellar, but he refuses. Marissa walked into the kitchen and noticed that Antonio left the wine cellar door open. She walked in and found something that made her fear and scared. At the end of the story, Antonio went back to Florence. He left a note to Marissa to explain what happened and left three phone numbers to let Marissa choose whom she wants to call. The writer expresses the emotions of Marissa through particular sections of the story and expresses how feeling scared can make her feel exquisitely alive. Marissa's emotions initiated from uncertainty and uneasiness then transitioned into the sense of terror and fright but, after escaping from her fears, she attained the feeling of freedom and relief.

  In the present section, we will talk about how Marissa was confused by what the older woman told her about Lucia and the curiosity of Marissa to Lucia. Marissa was left in the car, and the older woman came up to talk with her. The older woman thought that Marissa was the sister of Lucia.

“Do you know Antonio?” Marissa asked, calming. “I’m Olga, I’m the queen of the Via Magdelena, I know everyone…” A frown. “I have come to offer you my sympathies.” “About what?” “Why, the death of your sister of course.” “My sister? I don’t have a sister.” “You’re not Lucia’s sister?” “I don’t know Lucia.” The woman shook her head. “But you so resemble her.”

  For most of the conversation, Marissa has many question marks about what the older woman told her. In the conversation we can see that Marissa was confused about what the older woman said. She has no idea who Lucia is and what the older woman is saying about it. Moreover, in the conversation, we can see that Marissa became curious about Lucia.

  In this paragraph, we will discuss the thoughts and feelings of Marissa when she heard what the old woman said. Marissa began to doubt what happened to Antonio before. Antonio, who was driving with Marissa, suddenly said that something happened and got out of the car. At this time, an old grandmother saw Marissa, “thinking” it was Lucia who had passed away, so she shouted: Lucia, Lucia. Marissa is somehow scared by the old woman when she says it.

“He hesitated then gave a laugh. ‘Olga ... she's crazy. Not right in the head.’ ‘Do you know Lucia?’ Antonio shook his head. ‘Did she say I did?’ ‘No. But ... it seemed she was telling me about her because she recognized your car’ ‘Well, as I say, she's crazy.’”

  In this quote, Marissa got curious about what happened before when she met Antonio. She thinks that the reason why the old woman thought she was Lucia is because of the car. This paragraph mainly tells that Marissa started to come into contact with some “truths” and also began to have doubts about Antonio.

  In the present section, we will discuss how Marissa felt when she discovered Antonio’s secret. Marissa heard footsteps above her and she started to panic. Marissa stopped and gasped trying to process what she saw. On a stone wall was a picture of Antonio and a woman who looked very similar to Marissa. She starts to feel confused

“Fear began to grow deep inside her. She heard the creak of his footsteps above her. She put the ball back and turned to the stairs. But then she stopped and gasped. On a stone wall to the right of the steps was a photograph. It was of Antonio and a woman who looked very much like Marissa, her hair dangling to her shoulders. They were both wearing wedding rings--- even though he said he’d never been married.” “And the woman was wearing the same robe Marissa now wore.” “She was, of course, Lucia.” “Who’d died last year.”

  Marissa started feeling safe with Antonio. She felt that there was nothing to worry about and that she can fully trust Antonio to keep her safe. But after what she has seen, all of that emotion and feelings quickly fades away. Now she starts to feel panic inside of her. She fears that something will happen to her. She fears that what happened to Lucia will happen to her as well.

     Marissa’s mood transitions from being furious, tearful, and quivering to a feeling of relief as she had just escaped from terror. She has a sophisticated mixture of emotions revolving around her. As she walked out of Antonio’s house, she gazed through the stars. She saw a bat that flew by. She stared at it intently until it started to fade away from her eyes.

“Furious, tearful, quivering, Marissa walked to a stone bench at the edge of the water. She sat and breathed deeply, clutching the note in one hand, the phone in the other. Her eyes rose, gazing at the stars. Suddenly she blinked, startled. A large bat.. Dark shape in the darker sky, zigzagged overheard in a complex yet elegant pattern. Marissa stared at it intently until the creature vanished over the trees.”

  Marissa breathes deeply to calm her nerves after encountering such drama. She gazes through the stars and feels a sense of calmness. The author uses symbolism in this part. Bat lives in dark areas such as caves and only would come out in the evening. Which resembled our protagonist, Marissa, is going through a dark period in her life. The bat flies in a zigzagged overheard in a complex yet elegant pattern resembling her sophisticated response. She is furious but not so enraged anymore because she released her emotions. Furthermore, after what happened to her, she feels a sense of relief and release of feelings. It made her feel alive again, which made her ready to embrace freedom. It also stated that the creature vanished over the trees which resemble that her future is unknown.

 In drawing to a close, which of the three mobile phone numbers to call will Marissa call? It depends on Marissa's choice. Yes, Marissa was originally a desperate person for life. She was an observant person, wary of her environment, easily thought a lot, and lived out life very tired. Until she went through a series of events, and this little note was actually very important to her, It doesn’t really matter whether she will go back to Antonio or not. Marissa is clutching the note because it implied that she had regained her opportunity to choose. Putting aside people who influenced her, she wants to control herself. Having survived the darkest moments in our lives, we will see new light again. Every fall is to get up better. Not just our protagonist Marissa, but also us. Don't be afraid of and care about the length of time, no matter how miserable life is, don't forget to work hard and move forward, there will be a better life and dawn waiting for us ahead.

[nautilusopus]

do you have any favorite books?

Coraline by Neil Gaiman is the obvious answer lol. Still my favourite book to this day, obviously hugely influential in my own bullshit. Seriously check it out if you can find a copy, it’s pretty short and absolutely worth your time.

The Devil’s Storybook by Natalie Babbitt and its sequel (The Devil’s Other Storybook) are more of an anthology of short stories starring the Devil, who occupies every role from vague background presence to put-upon protagonist that are funny and thought-provoking and genuinely clever and that pissed enough people off that it was a banned book for a while. “The Imp in the Basket” is the kind of short story I wish more people knew about and wanted to sincerely discuss what actually happened at the end.

ugh i haven’t read a book i actually enjoyed in over ten years at this point uhhhhhh

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I think potentially the only classic I had to read in school that I genuinely liked and actually finished in one sitting on my own time. And I think the first time any themes a book had for me actually clicked and I was able to do any kind of meta analysis of it completely unprompted. Baby’s first literary comprehension. Slaughterhouse-Five is a semi-autobiographical piece set during the bombing of Dresden in WWII, and also some period in the “future” (the 80s lol), and ALSO on an alien planet as the protagonist is abducted and taken to a human zoo. The story is told achronologically, and I feel is hugely influential to my own shit where it skips around, building a narrative almost entirely by juxtaposing specific moments in time against one another. It's surreal and thought-provoking, and if you only ever make yourself read one classic, it should be this one. *

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien. Bear in mind this thing has fuck-all to do with the movie, and while in retrospect I now am able to enjoy the Don Bluth movie as its own thing, I remember being fucking furious when they busted out a goddamn magical amulet. It’s a different kind of story, but is more magic realism than outright fantasy, and the titular rats get a lot more backstory, as does the late Mr. Frisby iirc.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. God that book fucked me up. It is about a snotty porcelain toy rabbit that gets dropped overboard a ship into the ocean one day, and the various owners he has over the years as he changes hands, and the impacts they have on him, and it makes me fucking cry every time and is to date the only book to ever do so so fairly warned be ye. Fucking shit I wish I could dish out gut-punches half as good as that book could.

The His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman, which in and of itself is an angry rebuttal against everything the Chronicles of Narnia has to say, as well as Christianity in general. You’ve probably seen shit floating around about the HBO series, which I have not watched. Lyra is a horrible gremlin child running wild around a parallel universe Oxford until she accidentally stumbles onto a conspiracy that goes all the way to the Church which unofficially runs the government and eventually starts an interdimensional war against God. The first two books I think are better than the last one, which really drags in spots (and in a twist of irony had Lyra’s sexual awakening censored from the North American release which like... come on man). Absolutely worth checking out though, especially if you’re an angry pedant like I am.

Tales from the House of Bunnicula, by James Howe. Honestly the entire "Bunnicula Expanded Universe"(???) is great, but in particular I'm mentioning this sub-series because I think it actually kind of taught me to write. The framing device used is that they're being written by Howe's pet dog and sent in to him to publish by proxy. On top of having just a lot of good storytelling tips for beginners (how to create a plot! how to create character motivations! how to write female characters like actual people!), they're also fun little satire pieces of various kinds of genre fiction. Like, the third book is a riff on Harry Potter and making fun of all of JKR's worst writing tendencies, like her compulsion to phonetically write out everyone's fucking accent.

these days i'm just too picky to enjoy books anymore idfk. you have no idea how fucking disheartening it was growing up with actual taste (snooty snooty snoot) and watching everyone go nuts over stuff like divergent and eragon and maximum ride and fuckmothering twilight and shit. like, yeah misogyny absolutely played into why people shat on it because teenage girls aren't allowed to like anything, but lest we forget they were still shitty books guys. that never stopped being true or anything. and you were a social pariah if you didn't like them and that sucked. and then a couple ostensibly good series, like harry potter and artemis fowl and hunger games just dropped the fucking ball for one reason or another as they went on and never picked it back up. i think the mid 2000s almost singlehandedly just killed any real enthusiasm i had for reading altogether (this is not even getting into the fact a lot of really fucking bad "grown-up" novels came out around that period too. whole era was a baaaad time for books). so here i am writing, i guess, because i've decided you fuckers can't be trusted to make anything good yourselves. if you want something done right...

(*I like to think if Cloud wrote a book he’d write something like Slaughterhouse-Five. I think at one point I was even working on a fic along those lines -- a fictional story vaguely based off the burning of Nibelheim and the fall of Shinra that was written, in-universe, by Cloud several years later. Abandoned it just because of how fucking complicated it would be to do. Might come back to it one day.)

[f9-movies-fox]

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Released: 2021-04-01 Runtime: 145 minutes Genre: Action, Thriller Stars: Vin Diesel, Michelle Rodriguez, John Cena, Charlize Theron, Jordana Brewster Director: Sanja Milkovic Hays, Clayton Townsend, Gary Scott Thompson, Neal H. Moritz, Vin Diesel

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🎅 THE STORY 🎅 As a more extensive assortment of scholars started to work with cyberpunk ideas, new subgenres of sci-fi arose, playing off the cyberpunk name, and zeroing in on innovation and its social impacts in an unexpected way. Numerous subsidiaries of cyberpunk are retro-advanced, in view of on the modern dreams of past times, or later extrapolations or distortions of you see, the innovation of those times. Recorded period dramatization: a work happen a previous time span, normally utilized with regards to film and TV. It offers sentiments, experience movies, and swashbucklers. A period piece might be happen an obscure or general time like the Middle Ages or a particular period, for example, the Roaring Twenties. A strict work can qualify as period dramatization be that as it may, not as authentic show. presents an alternate story and an alternate arrangement of characters in every scene. These typically have an alternate cast each week, however a few arrangement already, for example, Four Star Playhouse, utilized a never-ending company of character entertainers who might arrive in an alternate show every week. Some compilation arrangement, for example, Studio One, initiated on radio and afterward extended to TV. Writing that centers around packs, criminal associations offering an even of association, and assets that help a lot greater and more specialized criminal exchanges than an individual criminal could accomplish. Hoodlums will be the subject of numerous films, especially from the time somewhere in the range of 1930 and 1960. A restoration of hoodlum type films happened since the 1990s with the blast of hip-bounce culture. Dissimilar to the previous hoodlum films, the more current movies share comparable elements to the more seasoned movies yet is more in a hip-bounce metropolitan setting. This term has periodically depicted a subgenre of theoretical fiction that is like steampunk, however digresses in its innovation. Much like steampunk, it depicts trend setting innovation dependent on pre-present day plans, yet rather than the steam intensity of the Industrial Age, the innovation utilized depends on springs, precision and comparable. Clockpunk is arranged seriously on crafted by Leonardo da Vinci and accordingly, it truly is regularly set during the Renaissance. It is believed to be a sort of steampunk. Like collection of memoirs, other than it truly is told more “from memory”, for example it is the manner in which the individual actually recollects and feels about their life or a phase inside their life, more than the specific, recorded data on that period. In spite of the fact that journals will in general be more abstract than personal history works, diaries are normally still viewed as verifiable works. There are additionally some fiction works that indicate to be the “journals” of anecdotal characters aswell, done in a comparable style, notwithstanding, they are in another type from their genuine partners. A spine chiller in which a lawbreaker or band of crooks imagines and executes a significant theft. The robbery as a rule includes accessing assets put away in a high-security area, and the criminals might utilize ploy to fool their way into or potentially out from the fortification. 🎅 COPYRIGHT CONTENT 🎅 Copyright is a type of intellectual property that gives its owner the exclusive right to make copies of a creative work, usually for a limited time.[1][2][3][4][5] The creative work may be in a literary, artistic, educational, or musical form. Copyright is intended to protect the original expression of an idea in the form of a creative work, but not the idea itself.[6][7][8] A copyright is subject to limitations based on public interest considerations, such as the fair use doctrine in the United States. Some jurisdictions require “fixing” copyrighted works in a tangible form. It is often shared among multiple authors, each of whom holds a set of rights to use or license the work, and who are commonly referred to as rights holders.[citation needed][9][10][11][12] These rights frequently include reproduction, control over derivative works, distribution, public performance, and moral rights such as attribution.[13] Copyrights can be granted by public law and are in that case considered “territorial rights”. This means that copyrights granted by the law of a certain state, do not extend beyond the territory of that specific jurisdiction. Copyrights of this type vary by country; many countries, and sometimes a large group of countries, have made agreements with other countries on procedures applicable when works “cross” national borders or national rights are inconsistent.[14] Typically, the public law duration of a copyright expires 50 to 100 years after the creator dies, depending on the jurisdiction. Some countries require certain copyright formalities[5] to establishing copyright, others recognize copyright in any completed work, without a formal registration. It is widely believed that copyrights are a must to foster cultural diversity and creativity. However, Parc argues that contrary to prevailing beliefs, imitation and copying do not restrict cultural creativity or diversity but in fact support them further. This argument has been supported by many examples such as Millet and Van Gogh, Picasso, Manet, and Monet, etc.[15] 🎅 ADAPTATION 🎅 Sadly, not everything is accessible to be unadulterated and strictly artistic in the film as I Still Believe gets overloaded with a few significant purposes of analysis and execution in the component. In what way? First off, the film feels a little inadequate in Jeremy Camp’s excursion. What’s introduced works (to some degree), in any case it doesn’t hold up, particularly becausae the Erwin Brothers have a troublesome us in making certain about the best possible story way for the film to take. Obviously, the string of Jeremy and Melissa are the fundamental focal center (and legitimately so), however essentially all that else gets totally pushed aside, including Jeremy’s melodic vocation ascend to fame and a few of the different characters and their significance (more on that underneath). This likewise makes the film have a specific pacing issues through the whole film, with I Still Believe run us of 6 minutes (one hour and 56 minutes) feeling longer than it must be, particularly with exactly how much story that the Erwin Brothers avoid (for example a few plot lumps/parts are left unanswered or missing). Moreover, regardless of whether a watcher doesn’t know about Jeremy Camp’s story, us does, regardless, follow a sensibly unsurprising way that is very standard for religious film. Without perusing anything about the genuine existences of Jeremy and Melissa preceding seeing the component, it’s plainly concerning where the story is going and precisely what will eventually play out (for example plot beats and dramatic account act Bookmark this siteprogression). Essentially, on the off chance that you’ve seeing several Christian religious film, you’ll realize very well what’s in store from us. Along these lines, the Erwin Brothers don’t generally attempt to inventively accomplish something diversely with the film… . rather they strengthen the optimisms of Christian and of confidence in an equation based account way that turns out to be very customary and almoBookmark this sitest somewhat languid. Addititionally there is the moBookmark this present sitevie’s discourse and content dealing with, which gets dangerous in the film’s execution, which is hampered by some wooden/constrained exchange at specific scenes (getting extremely sermonizing and messy at us) in addition to the sensation of the film’s story being somewhat deficient. There’s a halting point where the Erwin Brothers choose, however I felt that there could’ve more added, remembering more development for his musaic vocation and a few different characters. At that point there might be the idea of the film being very common in its allure, which is truly justifiable, yet depends overweight on its strict topical messages which can be somewhat “off-putting” for a couple. It didn’t trouble me so much, yet subsequent to seeing other religious films preceding this (for example I Can Only Imagine, Overcomer, Indivisible, and so forth), this particular film doesn’t generally ascend to Cursed in Love and falls prey to being somewhat nonexclusive and level for practically the entirety of its run us. As you can envision, us, while surely genuine and important in its narrating, strules to locate a glad equilibrium in its story and execution introduction; ending up being troublesome in passing in general “higher perspective” of its message and Jeremey Camp’s excursion.

[arofili]

Things that are aro culture

Aka Things I Like

- good omens

- penguins

- pasta

- four leaf clovers

- finishing your wip

- a good night's sleep

- the color yellow. That's right we're claiming that one too

- tank tops

- that feeling you get when you finally connect the dots on some piece of literary analysis you've been working on

- apple fritters

- daisies

- fast and furious: hobbs and shaw

- funky-patterned socks

- ice cream cones

- snuggies

- calico kittens

- holding hands

- onion rings

Feel free to add more