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floral-poisons · 3 years ago

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floral i actually adore you so much and your mind is literally just genius !! in regard to the sebek convo we were having , i totally can see the fetishization and the whole like awe at his exoticism that leads to that. i've had similar experiences with the family members of my white friends because they'll do that thing where they compliment you but it's like this , " oh wow you're just so ethnic !" " your language is so sexy ," " ooh are your ( insert racial feature ) natural ?" and whatnot.

now on this topic , i wanted to talk about the exoticism around jamil and kalim ( i'd talk about the others too , but i really can only give insight into the arab / muslim experience ).

a lot of fics will describe their actions as "exotic" but in such a fetishy sort of way ? it comes off as orientalist ( which it totally is ) and just overall gross. like the way people will write fics about kalim having an entire brothel of wives and shit- or when they write about jamil's servitude as though it's alluring. . . like it's really just gross. ( i can go on and on for days about the other stuff they write as well ) the stereotyping of this brown kid having like 40+ is not cool. like if yana wanted him to have a big family she could’ve gone for seven-ten kids ( this is how many siblings my grandparents each had ). i also have issues with the fairy gala and how jamil and kalim were really just chalked up to “ pretty exotic people ”

also , as much as i love the both of them and the way that they weren't costumed in the stereotypical "exotic sexy arabian belly dancer" style that jasmine and aladdin were in the original film , i still have problems with their characters in other senses. ( i’ve seen so many scalding sands ocs dressed like belly dancers and it’s like ??? arabian belly dancers only began dressing in such a manner during colonialism because they had to make money off of the desires of european men ) fun fact : if you dressed the way aladdin and jasmine dress in the middle of hot ass arabia , you’d die of a heat stroke. most people dressed in long tunics , thawb , sirwal kameez sets , bisht , and all sorts of other things. almost everyone covered their heads with turbans , headscarves , kuffeyeh , madhala hats , and other things to yk protect their skin and whatnot

for example , the whole thing about kalim's dad having all these kids and wives is like the stereotypical “ rich arab sultan ” thing which is just like ?? especially with how islam / arabia is villainized because of that sort of thing. yana has a questionable history with how she characterizes and portrays the brown , middle eastern/north african , desi and muslim people in her work so im not exactly shocked ?? i feel kinda annoying for complaining about it , especially since im very thankful we didn’t just get a repeat of the aladdin characterizations and costumes , but it still does bug me a lot as a muslim/arab woman who’s had to deal with fetishization , exoticism , orientalism and whatnot my entire life. your truly , genie anon <3

i don't think you're complaining genie anon. imo these are very valid complaints. they're not even complaints. they're criticisms and criticisms that are well needed.

i hope this doesn't sound weird but i think the reason why a lot of these portrayals feel off is because the source material is most likely from an orientalist and racist perspective. i'm aware that yana did extensive research for black butler (for like everything) so my presumption is that a lot of the sources she took for the middle east/northern africa, south asians, desi, muslim, and brown people probably come from the perspective of the british and other colonizing nations. so i'm not surprised that a lot of the stuff she does has the air of orientalism and racism. and then on top of that, aladdin is just a cesspool of orientalist and racist stereotypes that disney didn't denounce until recently. and even in their attempt to "revise" it with the 2019 live action movie, they still ended up reinforcing orientalist stereotypes. this is no way me excusing anything. but this reinforces the idea that we need more non-white voices (and in this case, arab, brown, muslim, desi, south asians, middle eastern/north african voices) in general but especially academia where i presume these sources came from.

i haven't read any translations about the fairy gala so i can't comment on it. but i'm going to take your word because you're probably right. along with everything else, i agree with you and there's nothing to comment on. my experience with orientalism stems from the fact i'm east and southeast asian, which is a wildly different experience from your own. you especially see it on dating apps ick

also i don't think it helps that scarabia, the dorm that's probably mostly filled with brown, muslim, arab, south asian, north african/middle eastern characters, is characterized as "scheming." it fits the orientalist stereotype of how the east schemes against the west and white authorities and that they're planning on taking over (the novel the beetle is the most perfect representation of this imo). on top of that, the miraheze wiki also says that it's implied that kalim got into nrc via a bribe so again, that adds to the scheming stereotype.

honestly though i'm really happy i'm not the only one who noticed this. the way the fandom treats kalim and jamil bothers the living shit out of me. i'm going to talk shit here but when a user active in the twst fandom got called out for racism, everyone was clutching their pearls acting as if this came out of nowhere. i didn't say anything because i felt it wasn't my place and i didn't want to cause unnecessary drama (this blog is a side hobby after all).

but i'm gonna say it now: the person's racism was blatantly obvious. their blog username was clearly fetishizing south asian and arab people. their fucking bio said they fetishized south asian and arab people. their interactions with another blog on here were fetishizing and hypersexualizing jamil (and the blog they talked to was also entertaining these inbox messages/prompts/ideas too). and it bothered me how NO ONE noticed because it just proved to me that people don't care enough about racism in this fandom. no one cares about the more covert racism that takes shape as orientalism and exoticism and fetishization. these people find it entertaining rather than disgusting.

i regret not speaking my piece about this weeks ago when i first saw it on my feed. when the callout happened, i was just 😐 because the signs were in these people's faces. they just didn't notice. and honestly, i could care less if they "didn't know" because that just means you need to do more antiracism work.

anyways going back to jamil, i see a lot of hypersexualization of him when it's wrong because:

he's a minor, please stop

hypersexualizing him is quite literally based in racism and orientalism because it stems from the idea that we, from the east, are hypersexual beings whose cravings for sex can never be satisfied

and then of course, there's the factor with scalding sands ocs in this fandom. these creators (who i presume are white) are just continuing to perpetuate orientalist and racist narratives which continues to get the groups affected hurt and killed in the real world. on top of that, they also end up projecting these ideas onto real people because they haven't touched some fucking grass.

anyways, that was REALLY long and i'm sorry to dump it. but yeah, genie anon, you're so valid in your criticism. and if someone says you're being annoying, just know i'm right here next to you because you're right.

also this message goes out to the whole twst fandom because you guys really need a serious wake-up call when it comes to racism in this fandom. it's frustrating to see. and if you don't understand what's wrong about everything genie anon just talked about, just type "orientalism" in your search engine and read everything that pops up. if you want a solid source and a great book to read about the subject, orientalism by edward said is a good read (it was, at least, the source i used).

#genie anon #anon asks #floral poisons talk #floral poisons rant #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #scarabia #kalim al asim #jamil viper #orientalism #twst fandom

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get-away-sticks · 2 years ago

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~| Land of Shards AU Preview! |~

In this post, I’ll be going through all of the student characters and providing material for viewers of this AU to get excited about. Unfortunately, I don’t currently have much history/plot for the NRC or RSA staff just yet, nor do I have anything for the dwarves or Prince Rielle, but I’m working on it still.

This AU is still a work in progress. As a refresher for those who saw my previous post about it, and a bit of information for those who didn’t, this AU is set in a dark fantasy version of Twisted Wonderland. There are very few humans, very few beastkins other than werewolves, and technology is very limited.

This AU is the combined efforts of myself and my friend RinRin, but was inspired by a oneshot piece I read a few months ago involving the Pomefiore trio as the heads of a vampire clan. More information will be provided when I release the final draft. But for now, I hope this is enough.

As a headnote, this list of character pieces is not strictly for simps or kinnies. It is for all who are interested in this AU. If you don’t simp for or kin any of these characters, then the neutrality of each blip of information should still be entertaining for you. If anybody has any questions, please, feel free to ask me about them, and I’ll do my best to answer without giving too much away.

With that out of the way, let’s begin!

~~~

Riddle: Has one too many screws loose and kicked the asses of his abusers. Lives on the coast and has a deep hatred of Azul. Keeps his palace looking very pretty.

Trey: Is the voice of reason, but still manages to be oddly off putting. Royal baker, but also Riddle’s most trusted advisor. Does not have his glasses.

Cater: Enjoys taking on the shapes of other people and creatures, and sometimes even objects, as a means of winning hide and seek bets.

Ace: Knows how to paint and regularly redoes the paint jobs on Riddle’s fine china.

Deuce: Actually fights with a spade and tends to take on the form of a crow or raven in the warmer months and a snowy owl in the colder ones.

Leona: Finally got his wish to be king, but rules over nothing but a crumbling wasteland.

Ruggie: Gets a serious kick out of terrifying visitors from other nations and clans. Chenya taught him that.

Chenya: Is actually aligned with Leona and Ruggie and is, as far as we know, the last housecat beastman in the entire world. Close friends with Ruggie.

Azul: Owns a seedy underwater nightclub, or the fantasy equivalent to it. More often than not gets his contracts and henchmen through use of a siren’s song. Like Trey, does not have his glasses

Jade: As close to normality as there is in the ocean. Azul’s right hand.

Floyd: Handles the allure of the nightclub to draw people in. Acts as a bouncer when working, more out of enjoyment than anything.

Kalim: Still just as soft and kind as ever. Doesn’t recall any of his history beyond a desert and a lot of fire.

Jamil: One of the lower ranks in the werewolf pack, but very feisty. Can still cook and has a love of wild berries.

Jack: Alpha of the pack, and that’s the biologically accurate Alpha. As in, just a really good mom. Cares for the pack and would die for them.

Najima + Jacks little siblings: Also members of the pack. Najima still gets a kick out of messing with Jamil and Jack’s little brother and sister, Julian and Jill, intensely admire their older brother and want to be just like him, even if he’s a hardass sometimes.

Vil: Pureblood vampire king. Has large, batlike wings and owns a hand mirror attached to a chain that allows him to see anybody he knows without them seeing him.

Rook: Was once a vampire hunter. Is still in contact with his family in order to find and slaughter corrupted vampires.

Epel: Still as feisty as ever. Possesses the ability to drain somebody of their energy through dancing with them.

Neige: Is far smarter than he appears. Wishes to bring monsters and the few remaining humans together through the arts and has domain over half of Sage Island.

Idia: Is a duke living near an opening to the Underworld. Married and bound to his wife for eternity, but does not love her and only married her for the sake of his brother. Nicknamed, “The Shut-In King.”

Ortho: Is a mechanical robot powered by steam, clocks and a bit of magic. His flaming heart can be seen inside a crystal orb in a bronze cage inside his chest. Enjoys playing with the forest animals near the estate. Nicknamed, “The Prince of Angels.”

Malleus: King of his homeland and rules with an iron fist. Has a tattoo of his family crest on his back and wears a circlet made of tungsten and snowflake obsidian. Has a slightly unnerving neutral smile.

Lilia: Acts as the guardian and trainer of Malleus, Sebek and Silver. Knows his way around all types of weapons and is not above violent interrogation methods.

Sebek: Malleus’ most trusted knight and possibly his ward. Has a one sided rivalry with the king that he refuses to speak about.

Silver: Officially has, ‘Vanrouge,’ as his surname. One of the few humans left. Senses are so sharp that even the slightest sound will wake him and he’ll already have his dagger drawn before you can blink.

Grim: Likes to consider himself the pirate king, but really wouldn’t have gotten this far without his first and second mates. Is still extremely angry and adorable.

Yuu: Grim’s first mate and is often left to clean up his messes by themself. Has extremely tired eyes and a bored sounding voice. Female presenting, but is nonbinary.

Yuuken: Is a different person from Yuu. Grim’s declared second mate and often handles piloting the ship. Close friends with Yuu. Male presenting, but is also nonbinary.

~~~

I hope this was worth the wait from when I said I’d post it. I know it isn’t much, but I’m partway done with the draft and am working to make it as pretty and aesthetically pleasing as I can, which isn’t easy given my blindness.

Once the AU is posted is when I’ll get to work on writing the X Readers I promised. Until then, I really do hope this feeds your curiosity. Thank you for reading <3

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland AU #TWST #TWST AU #Dark fantasy AU #Fantasy #AU #Land of Shards #Land of Shards AU #Night Raven College students #Royal Sword Academy students #Prievew #Coming Soon

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britishassistant · 4 years ago

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I wonder what the supervillains (the dorm leaders) would do if they get switched with their other self in Twisted Wonderland.

They'll meet a younger Yuu calls them senpai and probably get shivers when they hear someone shout Prefect but then realize its Yuu's role in that world.

Bonus would be if Yuuken's there too, sharing the dorm with Yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

I decided to take a little inspo from my Villainous Paranoiac series for this one! Not a whole lot, but the idea of Twisted Wonderland Yuu being put in the infirmary after the events of Chapter Five!

(Also consider it non-canon, since it kinda involves everyone’s identities being exposed!)

Basically imagine that the supervillains find themselves in what looks like a private school infirmary, late at night. The air is buzzing with a strange energy, almost like the powers back in their home world, but...different, somehow.

The room nearly empty, save for one occupant in a cot close to the door.

Poison Queen and King immediately begin bickering over whose fault this mess is, while Royal Flush tries to get them to keep their voices down or else they’ll be detected. Charon is half a minute from going to curl up in a corner, clutching his freeze ray like a lifeline, while Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer are busy inspecting their surroundings for anything of value or that can be requisitioned into a weapon on short notice.

Tsunotaro has wandered over to inspect the sole other living being in the room with them.

He is pleasantly surprised to see what looks like a younger version of the reporter he’s so fond of, fast asleep in the infirmary cot. Their cheeks still retain the last bit of baby fat from childhood, and there’s some acne left that will fade with age. He may give one cheek a gentle poke, just to satisfy his curiosity. The sleepy mumble they let out is a little more high pitched than normal, but that’s the reporter’s voice alright.

He is less pleased to see dark circles under their eyes, or the bandages around their throat that stink of medicinal salves. If this truly is a younger version of his child of man, then why do they look so worried, even in sleep? Why are they injured and sleeping in this place of healing in the first place? They’re a mere child, barely old enough to operate a vehicle or live alone. Their only worries should be trivial things, not whatever is causing this furrow in their brow and hunch in their shoulders.

The other supervillains have begun to migrate over to where Tsunotaro is crouching in silent contemplation. King flips his eyepatch up to get a better look, whistling lowly. Octo Dealer busies himself with refilling their water glass, sneaking glances at them as he places it within easy reach. Snake Charmer pulls their pillow more under their head from where it’s almost slipped off. Poison Queen straightens the arrangement of the very tasteful bouquet on the bedside table, so the flowers’ best angle is shown to the bed’s occupant. Royal Flush carefully tucks their covers in over them.

Charon takes a picture with his tablet.

He forgot to turn off his flash.

Yuu cracks their eyes open...

To see seven adults looming over their bed in masks that resemble the ink from the overblots that haunt the Prefect’s nightmares.

Cue terrified screaming.

Snake Charmer lunges forward instinctively to cover Yuu’s mouth—

It’s only thanks to Poison Queen yanking him back that he doesn’t end up with an arrow in the shoulder.

Several more follow the first one through the window above the prefect’s cot, cold iron sharp and perfectly aimed to seriously maim if the supervillains don’t immediately get away from the screaming teenager. Rook was lax in protecting the Trickster after VDC ended, assuming there was no more danger after Roi du Poison’s overblot was saved. He will not make that mistake again.

The infirmary doors burst open, a younger Yuuken in a sleep-rumpled uniform barging in from where he decided to sleep outside because Ramshackle felt too empty and quiet to bear, but was forbidden from staying in the infirmary himself. He only has a pillow, but he brandishes it at the strange adults, fully willing to defend his dorm mate in whatever way he can.

The vanguard appears in a flurry of bats though, too many to fight off, small and vicious and furious. Their commander materializes in the center if the swarm, hovering over the head of Yuu’s cot, pink eyes brimming with a cold rage that makes his small and cute form look like it’s bursting at the seams holding something much older and angrier back. He opens his mouth, fangs long and glistening—

Only to stop short at the sight of one of the supervillains. “Malleus? Malleus Draconia?”

Tsunotaro nods warily.

“Wh-What in Twisted Wonderland are you wearing??”

Tsunotaro ducks his head like a chastened child. “I could say the same thing.” He mutters sullenly.

From there the lights get turned on, and the seven supervillains are made to explain themselves to the sleep-deprived students and staff who trickle in to see what’s going on. All six dorm leaders and one vice dorm leader vanished from their beds, setting everyone on high alert until news of these...alternate versions spread.

It is very weird for the supervillains to see all their minions as teenagers (again in some cases). It is only surpassed by how weird it is for everyone else to see their dorm heads and vice head all grown up and adult, even if they are dressed weird.

Ortho still wants to shoot them with a beam until they bring back his nii-san. Luckily Charon is able to convince him that Idia should be fine if he’s in Charon’s lair—he’s got plenty of the latest games, manga and tech for him to play with, so that should keep him occupied for a while.

Sebek is in a state of Malleus awe. He has shut down and will not restart. Silver has taken to pinching himself just to make sure this isn’t a Lilia’s cooking induced fever dream, while Lilia himself scolds Tsunotaro that he raised him better than to go around watching people sleep like that! Tsunotaro tries to use the “but I’m a supervillain” excuse, only for Lilia to shoot back “and I’m a war criminal in some nations, what’s your point?”

King is enjoying watching the overgrown lizard get scolded. Now if only the tiny Ruggie would stop asking him what injury the eyepatch is for, and making remarks about how embarrassing it would be if it were totally pointless—King does not pay his adult self so much to put up with this shit. The baby Jack also needs to stop demanding to know if his adult minion self can pull a sled faster than a moose or something...

Jade and Floyd are attempting to wind up the adult Octo Dealer, trying to see how much they can get away with compared with the normal Azul. Octo Dealer is legitimately at a loss as to how this world’s Azul doesn’t keep them in line without letting them turn to a crime or two. Then he learns about Azul’s contract business and feels a pang of commiseration and understanding.

Poison Queen, Royal Flush, and Snake Charmer are unpleasantly shocked when their dorms address them by their respective secret identities in front of their fellow supervillains out of the blue.

Poison Queen has to put up with King’s uncontrolled laughter as he finally understands the full extent of the incident with White Neige so long ago, while Tsunotaro tries to tell him he liked Schoenheit in his role as the evil dragon prince in the GaoGao dramatization. Royal Flush is about two seconds away from throttling Octo Dealer if the bastard doesn’t stop trying to make a deal to guarantee his mother doesn’t learn about her son’s private activities. Snake Charmer’s just glad his civilian identity flies under the radar enough that Charon has to try and look him up to understand who he is (and fails because he’s not on school wifi and his cellular data is bust).

Poison Queen is also getting a headache from Rook rhapsodizing about how his villain form is another, enhanced mode of beauty he is fortunate to lay eyes upon, as if he hadn’t been willing to skewer Poison Queen along with the rest of the supervillains five minutes ago. He’s at least able to amuse himself by letting Epel run away with his speculations about how he’s the buff hyper-masculine muscle for Poison Queen.

Kalim is crying that Jamil had to resort to becoming a villain in his home world! He must be so sad if he has to do that! He’s mildly cheered up when Snake Charmer tells him they work together on schemes, and that Snake Charmer is actually reasonably happy with his chosen vocation—and then he begins panicking that Jamil will like that world so much, he won’t want to come back.

Royal Flush is glad his counterpart at least has good people around to look after him, even if it is odd to have young versions of Trey and Cater trying to mother hen him despite the fact that he’s the older one now. At least Ace and Deuce acting up seems more fitting now considering their age than it ever did on their adult selves.

Ace huffs a sigh and leans on Yuu’s shoulder. “This is a mess, huh Prefect?”

“You said it.” Yuu replies. “I just wanna sleep forever.”

The supervillains go still.

“I’m sorry,” Snake Charmer says carefully. “But isn’t Enma-san the Prefect?”

“No?” Yuuken replies, confused. “Yuu’s the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. I’m their vice— or would be, if we had any other students apart from them, me, and Grim.”

Octo Dealer laughs, sounding slightly strained. “Ah, apologies, but you see, that isn’t possible. It can’t be. Yuu isn’t—”

“But I am the prefect, Azul-senpai.” Yuu the Prefect says. “I’ve–I’ve always been the prefect.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Royal Flush places his head in his hands. “What the fuck.”

Back in the Supervillain AU universe, Yuu the Reporter sneezes sharply while trying to wrangle five frightened teenagers, one frightened-but-playing-tough twenty year old, and one confused however-old-he-is-but-younger-than-Tsunotaro fae.

They wonder what the chill down their spine is.

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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years ago

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By Julian Vigo

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Emperor's New Clothes tells the tale of a ruler who is unconcerned with the reigning of his kingdom—he did not care much about attending the theatre nor making any public appearances unless, of course, he was able to flaunt his latest clothes. That is until one day when two swindlers came to town and tricked the emperor successfully convincing him that they were weavers who could spin him the most beautiful cloth he had ever before seen in his life. These swindlers claimed, “Not only were the colours and the patterns of their material extraordinarily beautiful, but the cloth had the strange quality of being invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office or unforgivably stupid.” It was perfect, of course, for the emperor whose intelligence would not only allow him to see quite perfectly the beauty of the cloth before him but which would also allow him to choose his councillors wisely as he would discard any of them who were unable to perceive the magnificent beauty before their eyes.

The emperor then bought these fraudsters the most expensive materials of silk and gold and a loom with which to make the clothes. The swindlers kept the materials for themselves and pretended to make the garments from the empty loom. First, the emperor sent his faithful prime minister to check up on the “weavers” who doubted his eyesight as he found an empty loom. He thought to himself, “Am I stupid?” wondering if he was fit for his office. In a choice between his trust of his eyesight or his desire to keep his position, the prime minister quickly came around stating, “It is beautiful. It is very lovely...What patterns! What colours! I shall tell the emperor that I am greatly pleased.” And each of the councillors the emperor sent thereafter had a similar reaction—at first doubting their sanity and then realising that if they did not concede the beauty of the cloth being spun that they risked losing their position. Soon, all those close to the emperor had announced their sighting of a magnificent cloth that in fact was non-existent.

When it finally came time for the emperor to view the completed cloth, the fraudsters and everyone around the emperor informed him how beautiful the cloth was. The prime minister exclaims, “Isn't it magnifique?” However, the emperor had a similar crisis to that of all those he had sent before to check up on the cloth: he saw nothing. He thought to himself, “I can't see a thing! Why this is a disaster! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? Oh, it is too horrible!” However, like his officials who realised that their credibility and good-judgment lay in the balance, the emperor capitulates to his officials’ claims and announced the glorious artistry of a cloth that did not, in fact, exist at all. “It is lovely,” exclaims the emperor. After paying the thieves handsomely for their good work, the emperor decides to have the cloth cut and sewn and, in celebration of his new clothes, he has a parade. As he marches down the streets in sheer nudity, everyone in the kingdom is awed by the beauty of his clothes and shares in his delight and belief of the lie. That is until a young child sees that the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes at all and the rest of the kingdom slowly begins to realise the same.

This well-known fairy tale serves as an allegory for political ideology that a government can impose upon its citizens, that a well-funded interest group can as well—that of false consciousness. In his essay,The Power of the Powerless (1978), Václav Havel explores what he calls the post-totalitarian regime in Czechoslovakia wherein he reveals an ideology of false consciousness that is strikingly similar to the political consciousness of Andersen’s fairy tale. Havel uses the analogy of a greengrocer who displays in his storefront window the party slogan which reads “Workers of the World, Unite!” Just as the emperor's clothes are a production of artistic sleight of hand and cunning trickery, for Havel so too is the party literature, the slogan of the green grocer. The manoeuvre of an invisible cloth or a state-mandated slogan in both cases becomes the vehicle through which ideology surfaces and inscribes itself upon the masses whereby, as Havel writes, the citizens “confirm the system, fulfil the system, make the system, are the system.”

Havel’s essay is quite critical of political ideology calling it an “almost secularised religion” which maintains its force by offering the wandering masses a “home” that immediately grants the believer a life full of new meaning:

Ideology is a specious way of relating to the world. It offers human beings the illusion of an identity, of dignity, and of morality while making it easier for them to part with them. As the repository of something suprapersonal and objective, it enables people to deceive their conscience and conceal their true position and their inglorious modus vivendi, both from the world and from themselves. It is a very pragmatic but, at the same time, an apparently dignified way of legitimising what is above, below, and on either side.

Havel goes on to assert that ideology feeds a systemic drive that creates a “world of appearances trying to pass for reality” where the post-totalitarian system “touches people at every step, but it does so with its ideological gloves on.”

Havel’s essay is not only a damning summation of the ideological rituals common within Czechoslovakia, Poland and other Communist regimes of the era, but it eerily portrays much of what is happening in the west today fifty years later. With samizdat, a form of dissident activity across the former Eastern bloc nations long ago retired, we have laid witness in recent years to its unofficial rebirth among many critics of gender ideology. For those who have pushed back against the onslaught of gender ideology that has permeated the neoliberal left over the past twenty years, many critics of this era’s embrace of identity politics who refuse to be silenced have either taken to social media or they have published blog posts under assumed names. Due to the mounting authoritarianism from the left on this subject whereby individuals have faced losing income, being fired from their positions entirely, or being socially and politically ostracised, the protest to the official narratives of gender ideology has been emanating from unofficial spaces.

Twitter and Facebook have been the two primary social media spaces where feminists and trans ideologues alike have created secret groups in an attempt to strategise, dialogue, and establish actions. It would be an understatement to state that the wave has not only turned in the favour of these feminists, but COVID-19 has assisted the many who previously doubted the importance of material reality, to understand the difference between identity as feeling and the somatic reality of male versus female, a virus versus a unicorn. I have been in many of the gender-critical groups that are composed of only women, only radical feminists, only leftists, and myriad other variations on a theme. Where women and men from the left have joined forces to fight what they perceive as an ideological backwater of men’s rights activism, this fourth wave of feminism has teeth and it is speaking clearly to what resoundingly appears to be a religious ideology of gender.

Now that the NHS and the BBC have radically transformed their websites in recent weeks to update the information on gender dysphoria to include mentioning childhood desistance and ROGD (rapid-onset gender dysphoria), there is now a mass wiping of servers of these and other institutions of all references to Mermaids, a UK-based lobby group and NGO that has long identified its constituency as “transgender children” and their parents. And Mermaids is no outlier in the industry that seeks the expansion of childhood medical “gender transition” as it has consistently encouraged policy changes within the British government and its agencies to effect the quickest possible transition times of the highest number of children with the fewest safeguards in place. In 2018, Mermaids received £500,000 in lottery funding to this end.

So how is it that in less than two years, Mermaids has gone from being the star charity ostensibly championing the rights of children to now being silently removed from the BBC and NHS websites in their information and support sections as all the claims that puberty blockers such as Lupron are “reversible” have also disappeared? More importantly, why is it now commonplace in recent weeks that the media and public figures as well as private and public institutions have in stealth removed mention of Mermaids and the cheerleading of “childhood transition” from their accounts or servers as if a damnatio memoriae rivalling China’s removal of Zhao Ziyang from most every public record available in China?

Last year British actor, Jameela Jamil, participated in a video in support of both sic “trans kids” and Mermaids. Yet, in the same time frame that the NHS and BBC servers were wiped clean of any reference to Mermaids with data amended that exaggerated suicide information or that omitted childhood desistance, Jamil has curiously wiped clean her many Twitter posts referring to Mermaids. While Jamil claims she deleted her history to “become a more activism focused account that I can lend to other activists and charities,” many activists have answered Jamil on Twitter noting the non-coincidence of her and British comedian Josie Long having both dumped their Twitter feed within hours of one another, to include the many tweets in support of both Mermaids and the lifetime medicalisation of mostly gay and lesbian children’s bodies.

On the other side of this debate, you have trans activists like Katy Montgomerie who are soliciting screenshots of gender-critical people who have “bought this latest Mermaids conspiracy theory” as he calls it. One of the tweets sent to Montgomerie as “proof” of wrong-think was that of fellow-writer, Suzanne Moore, who tweeted this past week: “I see all you celebs deleting your tweets that supported the charity Mermaids? Wonder why you are doing that.” Now that Montgomerie is invested in collecting evidence of women’s words on social media (as if their clearly visible tweets were not enough), the pushback to gender-critical voices has become patently absurd, especially since feminists have been pointing out the sexism and homophobia inherent within transgender ideology for years. Next up, Montgomerie or another trans-identified male will claim that gender critics are right-wing, religious bigots because they questioned the sexism and homophobia of Mermaids which in turn made it impossible for them to question the sexism and homophobia of Mermaids. This is pretty much the cycle these online debates take in the vein of “on the wrong side of history” debates that pervade social media.

Content aside, what should trouble us all is that media of public and private institutions and individuals on social media is being scrubbed of history. As Havel’s essay shows us that the greengrocer’s shop slogan is divorced from what the slogan actually says, the true meaning of the social act of proclaiming allegiance to an ideology is quite clear and comprehensible because the code is so familiar:

The greengrocer declares his loyalty (and he can do no other if his declaration is to be accepted) in the only way the regime is capable of hearing; that is, by accepting the prescribed ritual, by accepting appearances as reality, by accepting the given rules of the game. In doing so, however, he has himself become a player in the game, thus making it possible for the game to go on, for it to exist in the first place.

Today, here we are in the midst of a tide-turning moment where transgender ideology is being rejected en masse by gay and straight people, men and women alike. Meanwhile, the public institutions which have for years codified the social signs, sponsored the "gender identity" training, crafted the woke lessons transmitted by the BBC and the NHS permeating all arenas of media and public health, in addition to the cast of Harry Potter chiming in with their endless support for “trans people” through Twitter and other media outlets, and we have been handed the perfect storm exemplifying exactly how we got here in the first place. Of course, political ideology is a powerful tool when it leaves no oxygen in the room for anything else. Such an authoritarian narrative creates the subterfuge to the very ideology all these bodies and individuals espouse.

For those like British journalist Owen Jones who declared in 2015 that all critics of transgender ideology were on “the wrong side of history,” we must be more circumspect in how we approach ideologues who ought to be covering the news instead of participating in it. While gender has wider implications beyond its very narrow media representation, the political backwater of how the media influences public policy, politics and even law is unparalleled today. We need to learn from Havel’s historical example of what happens when we allow ourselves to become the greengrocer who unthinkingly parrots slogans that have neither any base in reason nor any resonance within our society. The repression of artists, poets, thinkers and politicians in the former Eastern bloc countries has been well documented. So too have the attempts to purge antagonistic articulations about gender from the “party line” been noted in recent years across various anglophone countries.

Now that the gender narrative is falling apart quickly, many of its proponents are running for cover skipping over to the very side they previously denounced as “wrong.” Of course, these individuals will happily prefer their slogans be forgotten, to have their tweets removed and their websites altered from public record. “All traces of totalitarian influence, dissidents confirm, define, adopt, and integrate the methods of totalitarianism within their own structure building their 'truth' on its negation,” Havel reminds us.

Let’s now remind these political actors of the dangers that occur when espousing ideological hogwash as human rights. More importantly, let us now learn from this lesson of this dangerous era of public tyranny and return to the drawing board to continue that discussion about historical materialism and its significance today

#gender critical #mermaids gender #Julian vigo

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fu-aki · 5 years ago

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I just wanna talk about how Kalim and Jamil normally acts before talking about the possibilities of Scarabia chapter.

Their relationship could basically be summarized in one sentence: an energetic kid and his tried single mom.

Okay enough memes I’ll just list all the things I’ve gathered in their lines and episode stories that I know of.

Spoiler alert for Kalim and Jamil’s episode stories.

Kalim is the first son of a super rich family.

Kalim has a magic flying carpet. Which is a national treasure level magic item.

Jamil’s ancestors were born to serve the Al-Asim family.

Kalim and Jamil grow up together and Jamil probably served him all along.

There’s multiple kidnapping attempts towards Kalim ever since he was a kid. (Original dialogues: I was kidnapped a lot ever since I was a little kid, don’t think I can even count the numbers with my two hands anymore, so now I won’t even be surprised by it)

There was also many times Kalim was poisoned as a kid. Which leads to him not wanting to eating anything but what Jamil made him.

Jamil basically has to cook for all of Kalim’s party too.

Jamil is really good at cooking.

Jamil is in basketball club with Ace and Floyd.

Jamil learned how to dance when he was a kid because Kalim wanted to do it.

Jamil know how to break dance, and he also knows how to do the move where you spins on your head.

It’s likely that Jamil is hiding something in order to not attract other’s attention.

Even Kalim was surprised that Jamil wasn’t picked as the dorm leader, but Jamil just says that he’s not fitting for it and he’s fine with being the vice leader.

Jamil did Kalim’s ceremony outfit’s makeup. (Honestly I feel like Jamil did all of Kalim’s makeup but so far the ceremony one is the only one that’s confirmed in story)

Kalim is probably pretty good with magic judging by his lab cloth episode where he cooked food with magic only and didn’t even touched the knife with his hands.

Kalim does value the promises he made with Jamil a lot, like how he promised to not use fire and knives because it was too dangerous.

Both of them (especially Jamil) are pretty on alert for assassins, Jamil even made some of his classes same as Kalim just in case something happens in class.

That is all I could think of so far. Hope this can help you understand them more.

Honestly Jamil really don’t seem like that bad of a guy to me in these stories, he truly do looks like he wanted to protect Kalim, but then again who am I to say anything after seeing the end of chapter 3 haha.

Let me just go back to my little corner and cry

#twisted wonderland #twst #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland kalim #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper

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clansayeed · 4 years ago

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Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 18: The Side Effects

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

These things take time; a lesson Nadya is learning the hard way as she continues her psychic training. Guilty consciences are eased, an old flame gains new fire, and a night out on the town doesn't go as planned.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Six weeks later…

“Perhaps we shall make this our last trip for the night, ma chérie?”

There’s a hint of chiding in Serafine’s voice but it lacks real heart. That much is obvious by her amused little smile when Nadya throws a look back to her. It certainly doesn’t help the woman’s case that during these last few excursions into her halls of psychic memory she’s pretty much been given free reign. Like a kid in a candy store.

“If you’re saying that because you’re worried about me tiring myself out — I actually feel really good this time. So maybe, like, one more after this?”

Her enthusiasm gets a little laugh in return. “We shall see. It wouldn’t do to overexert yourself too soon. Now — come back closer please. We won’t be wandering aimlessly this time.”

She falls back in step at Serafine’s side; eyes widening in surprise. “Then why are we here?” A completely innocent question that by all accounts should have had an equally innocent answer.

But there isn’t one single instance in history when a stretched out and tense silence meant anything good. Well… she supposes she’ll find out soon enough.

There’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that the real Hall of Mirrors in the real Palace of Versailles — only a metro ride away from their apartment — is still breathtakingly beautiful. She doesn’t even doubt that a connected woman like Serafine herself could get them into the Palace after hours for a real, physical tour of the place. But there’s a unique beauty to seeing it in its prime. Everything still fresh and new and dedicated to the Sun King rather than those who came after his reign.

There must be a hundred candles above and around them. But they are, for the purposes of this memory, a source of light rather than heat. Even when Nadya stands on tip-toe and brushes the flat of her palm through a steady orange flame she doesn’t feel so much as a tickle.

Just another oddity to hammer home Serafine’s first lesson.

You are not a participant in the world around you, here. You are merely a voyeur — there to observe and nothing more.

They reach the center of the long and glittering Hall. Serafine stops and gives her an expectant eye. “How are you feeling; has anything changed?”

“Nope — everything’s still crystal clear.” Even in her excitement Nadya knows the importance of these questions. This may look like a field trip on the outside but deep within it’s just another in a long string of exercises. And they’ve been working at them diligently; every night for over a month now.

Frankly it’s about time all her hard work started paying off.

Out of the corner of her eye Nadya sees a flicker in the normally steady light. The flames of half a dozen candles barely clinging to their candelabra’s moorings giving a little impromptu dance. Just a small wind, she tells herself; and chooses to ignore the contradicting stillness of the window drapes.

“Is something supposed to happen?” Is something happening already?

Serafine nods in reply. “Up until tonight, our focus has been on the first step — the crossing of the bridge between minds and memories. But memories aren’t portraits frozen in time. By their very nature they are alive and in an endless cycle.

“The task we’re undertaking won’t be one you can find in an abandoned landscape, Nadya. When the time comes you must be ready to bear witness.” If only the apology in the vampire’s furrowed brow wasn’t more unsettling than it was reassuring… “And I regret to say not everything you take in will be beautiful.”

The candles waver around them again. Casting long shadows and dewdrops of golden light across every shining mirror. Bitter experience has Nadya almost certain she does not want to look into one. Better to spare herself even a brief glimpse of any number of dark and horrific deeds.

That’s the thing about bad memories. They are far too easy to conjure up — no matter who they belong to.

“Perhaps we’re attempting this too soon.”

Concern catches in the woman’s normally carefree tone and drags Nadya’s attention back outward — makes her shake her head insistently.

“I’ve gotta do it sometime. We’re already here, so let’s try it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No pain, no gain.”

Whether the vampire believes her or not, she accepts it. The memory continues.

Sharp footsteps echo back in the direction they had come from. Serafine looks up with a strange resignation in her dark eyes; her normal soft-humored smile replaced with pursed lips turned down somber and stoic.

Nadya doesn’t have the chance to question her about it before Gaius waltzes through the open doors.

He’s not real — he’s not real—he’s not real. She repeats the mantra until the thought is all-consuming but that doesn’t make it any easier to see him. He looks exactly the same after all. As does the familiar cherubic face that skips happily away at his heels.

Marcel.

Every step Gaius takes is with purpose. His eyes are trained forward but from where she stands it’s like he’s looking right at her and even though her brain is a broken record screeching he’s not real he’s not real he’snotreal nothing can stop the noise she chokes out; the hasty one-two-three steps back she takes before he passes her right on by.

She breathes.

You aren’t a participant in this world. You’re just a voyeur.

Marcel’s face lights up and he takes off in a dash, calling out “Serafine, Serafine!” gleeful and grinning. Nadya turns just in time to see him leap into her arms. She swings him around in a full circle before setting him down. They exchange familiar kisses on either cheek.

All at once the child’s face goes sour. The delight of reunion now gone and replaced by something much more important. Nadya knows this because she can feel the trepidation rolling around her insides in that now-familiar phantom way. A feeling that only comes with memory.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Serafine,” he practically whines; throws an arm out behind him to gesture vaguely in Gaius’ direction where he hangs back from the pair politely, “please tell me it isn’t true!”

The two older vampires lock eyes. Serafine wars with the guilt creasing her brow. Her King, as ever, able to compose himself utterly porcelain.

“You know full well I wished to tell him myself.” Her dress billows out as she takes to her knees.

Gaius shrugs; clasps his hands together behind his back. “It happened to come up; in my defense I thought you had already told him.”

Child’s hands cup Serafine’s cheeks. Marcel’s lower lip wobbles.

“Why won’t you come with us?”

She covers one of his hands with her own. “My work here is not yet done, petit. Not while the Holy Knights still lurk in the Sun King’s shadows. Surely you of all people can understand that.”

“But where we’re going… there won’t be any Knights.”

“For your sake I would pray so.”

“Banner is coming; Kamilah too! I cannot bear the thought of leaving you behind!”

“And your love brings me unbounded joy, but —”

“How can you stay here Serafine,” he interrupts, “after everything they did to us? In the New World we can start a new life! One without having to worry about the Knights, or—or any of their silly human struggles.”

Serafine quirks an eyebrow up at Gaius. “I would dare say the struggles in a unfamiliar world would be far greater.”

The man inclines his head. “Steps have been taken to ensure we will be well-received.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Do you doubt me, Mademoiselle Dupont?”

There he is. The Gaius that Nadya recognizes, who she struggled to try and find under his powdered face and frilled collar. But she knew he couldn’t resist showing his true self for long. All this decoration is just another glamour. He’s still a monster beneath.

Quickly Serafine bows her head; speaks a low “Non, My King,” and is forced to wait until he silently accepts her apology to regard him again, “but I have seen the struggles of new nations before, as you have. What is to stop the Holy Knights from following you across the world? They have done so before; surely they would again.”

A shiver runs down Nadya’s spine as she watches Gaius’ eyes burn red. Dozens of flames reflected that give him an awe-ful power; something near godlike. Even though she knows firsthand he won’t see that kind of power for centuries to come it still leaves her frozen in fear.

The Vampire King smiles down at the pair cold; confident.

“I would hope they try. For then I will show them what happens to their kind in my Shadow Kingdom.”

The world around her begins to blur at the edges much to Nadya’s relief. Pinpricks of flames growing brighter, whiter; until they swallow her and the three vampires whole. Until Gaius and Marcel are left in the past and that version of Serafine with them.

Then all she sees is the black void and flashes of nameless colors behind her closed eyes.

Nadya waits until the high-pitched ringing in her ears dies down; gives way to the sounds of the apartment and the strange life they’ve built within it. She knows from tragic experience that coming back to herself, to her own head and the present with it, so soon would only end in nausea and the occasional nosebleed. Funnily enough she’d rather avoid that this time around.

When Lily’s laughter from the other room is louder than the noises in her head, Nadya knows she’s in the clear.

It takes a few blinks for her eyes to adjust. She reaches blindly and feels a cool glass slide into her hand. Her thumb brushes over Adrian’s — he waits patiently until she has the strength to hold it on her own. Each gulp soothes the itching, burning rawness in her throat. A welcome relief.

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly? Kinda fuzzy.”

She regains full and clear sight just in time to catch the furrow in Adrian’s brow. “‘Fuzzy,’” he repeats; and he’s two seconds from scribbling the word down on a notepad before she stops him.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But you just said —”

“Yeah, well…” Nadya turns her head to look across the table; to Serafine and her (rightfully, absolutely justified, totally warranted) guilty expression. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to hang out with Gaius tonight, so fuzzy is better than the alternative.”

The woman grabs for her waiting glass of wine and sips. Tries—and fails—to be idle about it. At least she isn’t pretending like she didn’t throw Nadya for a loop.

“What the heck was that about?”

Serafine swallows after a moment. “It was not my intention to sneak the memory upon you, Nadya.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’ve been progressing so well, ma chérie. The decision was a spontaneous one; not to mention a success, do not forget.”

“Yeah, but…” Surely she gets why Nadya’s not the happiest camper! “Did it have to be him?”

“I was advised you work well under pressure and with little time to think.”

“By who?!”

She regrets it the second she asks. No, she knows the answer the second she asks. It’s pretty obvious after all; possibly even more than since Nadya isn’t alone as she and Adrian whirl around in their chairs to look through the doorway into the living room.

Jax is just a little too focused on his book to actually be reading it.

“Nadya —” Serafine drags her attention back with a hand over hers, lacking warmth but still just as soft; she still tries her best to keep that frown front and center, “— you did remarkably. Far better than I could have hoped. Ask yourself; do you feel any of your usual aches or side effects?”

Under the pair’s scrutiny Nadya does go through her mental checklist. However reluctantly. The ringing is all but gone and whatever stomachache she’s feeling is probably because she hasn’t eaten — for fear of the nausea she doesn’t feel either. Every physical followup she’s experienced since they began the painstaking process of dismantling her ‘psychic walls’ either isn’t there or is so faint it’s easily attributed to being human.

Her defeated sigh is met with smiles from both Serafine and Adrian — rude of them but… still. “No,” she reluctantly admits, “but that kind of pain usually only happened when the memories were being pushed at me, you know? It was all chaos and noise and crowds and stuff I couldn’t understand. But… that doesn’t make what you did okay.” Since Nadya really doesn’t know which was worse; the pain of being practically assaulted with vampire memories or the stress of having to even look at Gaius’ dumb face.

At least she gives Nadya that. “I apologize for my deception. But this is fantastic news. It means we can begin pushing your boundaries, seeking what we need; what all of this time has been for.”

All of this time, she says; like Nadya hasn’t been struggling with her self-imposed guilt every single day. Like she hasn’t been pushing herself — sometimes a little too far too quickly — because it’s been six whole freaking weeks.

Six weeks of psychic Karate Kid training.

Six weeks of (admittedly delicious) gut-wrenching French food and wine.

Six weeks of absolute radio silence from New York.

“We will begin plotting our course tomorrow evening.”

Serafine drags her attention back to reality as she stands; Adrian with her out of habit. She grabs her coat from the back of the chair and folds it over her arm. The last look she throws Nadya’s way is a proud one.

“May I walk you out?” Adrian asks and offers her his arm. It takes everything in Nadya’s power not to burst into knowing and maybe even childish giggles. Like he hasn’t walked her out every night since they started this?

But hey — with roommates as nosy as them she gets his want for even a little bit of privacy.

The woman takes his offer with warmth in her eyes. “I would be glad of the company,” she accepts. The pair exit the apartment with remarkable grace; especially seeing as their sharp vampires ears definitely hear their audience’s laughter the moment the door closes behind them.

When she’s gulped down enough water to hope the Gaius in her head is drowning, Nadya joins Lily on the couch with a box of leftover macarons. It’ll be sunrise soon; not enough time for them to get into any trouble worth the effort.

“Any-f’ing ah’ all?” Nadya asks around her mouthful of sugar; jerks her chin in the direction of the news station Lily must have settled on some time ago.

It’s no surprise when Lily shakes her head. Nadya doesn’t even know why she asks anymore.

Yes she does. Because she’s Nadya.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” But this is the third time she’s asked and by now the jig is up — Lily knows full-well she keeps turning back because it’s an excuse to try and inch her way away from the door. A way to try and find a reason to stay right along with him.

Judging by the wry amusement in Adrian’s little smile he’s pretty aware of it too.

“I’ve never really been a club kinda guy. But don’t worry about me — you guys go have fun and have a drink on my behalf.”

“See?” Lily all but snaps. “We’ve practically got his permission to go!”

Jax can be seen through the open front door; waiting in the hall with arms crossed over his chest and foot tap-tapping in exasperation. “You can’t force her to go if she doesn’t want to go, Lily.”

Which is something even Nadya has a hard time believing. It’s like he’s never met her or something. Or maybe it’s because he has — because he knows trying to convince her that she isn’t the Grand Master on High in Control of Nadya’s Fate will only ensure their night out could only be stopped by a nuclear apocalypse.

Nadya wrenches her wrist out of Lily’s grip with no small amount of effort. If she bruises, someone’s sleeping on the couch. “Nadi’ I swear to God —”

“I’m coming, okay?! Yeesh just…” Her words trail off when she looks back to Adrian. All on his lonesome at the kitchen table normally shared by at least two others, staring at his laptop screen with his usual work-busy furrowed brow and his index finger curled over his chin in deep thought.

“Just gimme a minute, okay?”

Lily holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’ve got three minutes before I haul you out over my shoulder. And don’t think I won’t.”

“I know you too well.”

“Damn right.”

She closes the door behind her, separating them and leaving Nadya and Adrian actually and properly alone. When it’s clear he won’t be looking up from his screen of his own free will she huffs her way over to him, practically stomping in her heels by the time she gets there, and forces the lid closed with an open palm.

Adrian jumps back, startled. Even with superhuman senses he gets too lost in his work too often.

“Well hey there stranger,” sarcasm dripping from her drawl, “welcome back to reality.”

Adrian tries to frown but there really isn’t any heart in it. He’s barely frowned at all these last few weeks — not unless Psychic 101 ends up leaving her with a headache the size of the Eiffel Tower. It’s been refreshing to see; which is what makes seeing even the shadow of it now all the more frustrating.

“Please come with us?”

He takes her outstretched hand and squeezes it with his own. “I’m not kidding about the clubbing thing, Nadya. And I don’t want you to miss out on my account. Go, have fun, enjoy the real Paris for once. Serafine is right — you need a break. I think we all do in our own way.”

Nadya’s eyebrow almost becomes one with her hairline.

“You know this —” she circles her finger around the laptop, “— this is the exact opposite of taking a break.”

“Not for me.”

She’s probably winding down on her allotted time. When Nadya reaches out Adrian meets her halfway; both of their hands together swinging between them. He’s probably thinking the same thing, too, since he throws a look towards the door fully under the assumption Lily is about to storm her way right back through. Likely while using Jax headfirst as a battering ram.

Adrian brings her back to reality with a tiny squeeze. “You don’t have much time left to tell me why you’re really so hesitant. I’d use it wisely.”

Nadya whines; it comes out more petulant than anxious which definitely wasn’t her intention in the least. Luckily Adrian knows her pretty well already.

“Are we bad people for doing this?” She asks, and bites her bottom lip.

“What, going out?”

“Doing something fun.” Because Kamilah definitely isn’t having fun. Maricruz definitely isn’t having fun.

So by that logic they definitely shouldn’t be having fun. Right?

“Nadya… c’mere.”

And this, right here, is the reason she’s okay with not being able to double back to her apartment for her anxiety blanket. Adrian’s hugs are just as fulfilling; just as calming. She buries her face into his shoulder and squeezes so tight her arms start to prickle with pins and needles and he knows just the right amount of pressure to give back.

He pets her hair with a small sigh. “I don’t think I’m telling you anything new when I say this, but things… aren’t all that great right now.”

“Wow, really?”

“Really. But this may surprise you — things are still going to be not-so-great tomorrow. Or the day after, or the day after that. It’s terrible, I get it. Every night I wake up and my first thought is always the same; ‘this isn’t the day I’m going to fix things.’ And that eats me up inside. I’m sure you’ve seen it… because to me it feels like if I try and pretend I’m not battling those thoughts then I’m doing a disservice to everyone who stayed behind; especially to those who didn’t have a say in the matter.

“And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way, or thinking negative thoughts. In fact, I think they can be great reminders for what we’re working towards, here. What everything is for.” Adrian eases her back, practically forcing her to look him in the eyes. He may be smiling more but in the end that doesn’t make up for the fact that Adrian likes to shoulder a lot of the world’s emotional guilt. Nadya does, too. It’s probably why they get along so well, huh? “But if you don’t step back and remember what makes the loss of something so sad to begin with, then you can get caught up in all that negativity way too easily.”

Nadya’s sigh is a heavy thing, but she feels the weight — the burden of it lessen like the oxygen in her lungs. Adrian’s right; they both know it. But how dare he use his years of experience and immortal wisdom against her like this.

How dare he make her feel so young.

“I know.”

He nods. “Kamilah stayed behind because that was the right thing to do. But I think we both know she’d be giving you the lecture of a lifetime if she knew you were spending all your time beating yourself up about it.”

Ugh, true. “Yeah, and when she would be done all the time for going out would have been used up.”

“Exactly.” He kisses her forehead and tries his level best to shift her hair back in place. He fails, of course, but nobody’s perfect.

“So go and enjoy yourself for tonight. You’ll feel less guilty tomorrow, I promise.”

“Promise me you won’t brood here all alone tonight, instead?” Which makes Adrian laugh and leaves Nadya more than a little confused. Less so when she catches his smile.

“Who said I’m going to be alone?” He glances at his watch. “Serafine should be here soon. And you guys were supposed to be long gone by now.”

Ew. He’s staying behind to get lucky.

“Just… don’t forget to put something on the door,” after a quick ruffle to his hair for revenge, Nadya slings her purse over her shoulder and makes to scram, “your tie, a sock, something. I’ve seen enough things to scar me for this lifetime.”

“Not funny, Nady—!” She cuts him off with a closed door.

Jax heaves loudly. “Finally — can we go?”

With Lily’s arm looped in hers Nadya starts to walk rather than give him a verbal answer. “This side of you scares me, you know that?”

“Not me,” Lily chimes in, “after my banger I’m convinced you were a regular Travolta in your heyday.”

“White suit and all?”

“White suit and all.”

Their laughter follows behind Jax like a banner of shame all the way down the apartment stairwell.

By the time they make it to Hip-Trendy Parisian Club Number Three, there’s nothing left for them to do but finally be honest with themselves.

None of them are really “club people,” and even if they were there’s something so fundamentally wrong with the sight of people partying, kicking back; enjoying their lives. Of course these random strangers don’t know any better; their lives are weird and complicated in their own unique ways but for Nadya, for Jax and Lily? All they see are blissfully ignorant victims dancing and grinding and drinking their way through the end of the world.

Not that they don’t nab a few of those drinks for themselves on the road to enlightenment.

Lily forces her way none-too-gently through the throngs of neon-clad pretty faces, finally arriving to their little standing table like she’s made it home from a decade-long war. Nine shot glasses scattered on the tray, more than half of them the same color purple as her locs, and they all grab one and raise the first drink in cheers the same way they had at the club before this, and the club before that.

“For Kamilah.”

“For Mari. Salud.”

“For the Shadow Den.”

In what is now a well-rehearsed choreography, the trio knock back their glasses with gusto. Is she following Adrian’s advice and trying not to wallow in guilt, yes. Does that mean they can’t take a drink for the things their hearts ache for, absolutely not.

Artificial lime flavoring does wonders for masking the alcohol’s burn all the way down to her stomach where it settles just about as well as every other weird flavor before it. When Nadya comes back up she sets the glass down a little too heavy-handed; lets her world spin for a moment in ways that have abso-tootly nothing to do with vampire memories or psychic visions.

Well, that’s what she thought, anyway.

Her brain has a different idea and has decided (without her permission, to be clear) that it’s totally okay to blur the lines between reality and memory. It wants her to see things that aren’t actually there.

Oh, he looks like he is. Sticking out like a sore thumb in his crisp but ill-fitting suit and a scowl that probably sealed in place when he was Turned. Among the party-goers and club kids he’s not easily missed and the fact that he isn’t even trying to blend in all but hammers home the fact that he can’t be real.

Much to her surprise Nadya doesn’t even have to think hard to place where she’s seen his face before. Then again all of the Baron’s goonies look the same at the end of the day; stock-cut henchmen out of a bad British spy flick.

One second he’s standing there, a literal sore thumb in the neon-colored chaos. Three blinks later he’s gone; retreated back into Nadya’s unconscious where she will, inevitably, replay the events of that night on the airstrip over and over and over again.

“Welp, it’s official,” Lily takes her remaining two and knocks them both back together, because why not apparently, “we are the biggest bummers to ever bum around Bummertown.”

It’s enough to bring Nadya out of her Bloodkeeper weirdness and back to the others. Jax, leaning over the table with his head sagging onto his palm, looks to her for translation. Not the first time tonight.

“We’re very sad, dear.”

“Oh, yeah. But that’s not a real place, right?”

“No, dear.”

He clicks his tongue and takes his time sipping something with edible glitter swirling around inside. Flecks shimmer in dazzling rainbow on his upper lip when he’s done, but she can’t muster more than a “heh-nheh” at the sight.

“That’s the double-edged sword of being a mosquito, you know?” Lily looks at them both like they should very much know what she’s talking about. They do not.

Nadya pushes her glasses up carefully. “Uh… pardonnez-moi?”

“You know…” flicking over one of the empty glasses, “on one hand, you can’t get drunk. No hangovers is literal nirvana. On the other hand, you can’t get drunk. And I think I’d give my left tit to be drunk right now.”

“You did always prefer your right one.”

“It’s better shaped.”

Twin looks make their way to Jax at the same time, and finally there’s something worth laughing at. He’s looking between them like they’ve burst into spontaneous French and he’s never heard the like in his life, and that’s pretty freakin’ hilarious. He doesn’t even let her try to translate in between bouts of laughter; just holds up his hand and looks away with a disgruntled “I don’t want to know, I really really don’t.

“But —” and doesn’t that make them snap back to attention, “— I’ll agree about the booze thing. It’s not hitting the spot, you know?”

Lily nods in solidarity. “Just what I was thinking.”

“We could always try somewhere else?” Nadya offers, and tries not to look as utterly offended as she feels by the mutual sympathy the vampires send her way.

“Not like that, it’s… Lily, you explain it.”

Subtle wink. “It doesn’t —” —subtle wink— “— hit —” —subtle wink— “— the spot, Nadi’.”

Not the way Jax would have done it but he did hand it off, so that’s on him. “Not like we were dining out every night at the Shadow Den, but sharing the rations on Raines’ plane between three vampires doesn’t even reach the bare minimum. D’you get it now?”

Yeah, she got it after the first wink, but thanks for hammering it home. And she feels pretty bad about not considering their plight earlier — choosing instead not to look when the day’s blood bag makes the rounds rather than make sure everyone was getting their fair share.

As she sweeps a long look over the crowded club, though, it doesn’t seem like one or two people heading off for an hour or two would be all that noticeable. Right? The advantages of fast-paced urban crowding.

“If you guys need to, like, do the thing, I could be lookout?” she offers. Jax doesn’t miss a beat to laugh, like she’s suggested robbing a bank to meet a measly bar tab, but when he glances to Lily she isn’t joining in. In fact, she looks incredibly thoughtful.

“No.”

The younger vampire whines and stops her foot against the concrete dance floor. “Come on… we’re careful! And it’s just once.”

“We haven’t scoped the territory, noted the exits… we’d be sitting ducks for that order of hunters.”

“I get that,” Nadya agrees in earnest, “but do you really think there’s enough of them to scope every club in Paris, or even all of Europe?”

“I think risking it is inviting trouble.” And maybe she’d be content to let the matter rest if he looked as sure as he sounded. But it isn’t a trick of the lights that have his eyes changing color; Lily’s either. Nadya recognizes the look and by now she’s been around vampires long enough to know when the hunger starts to hurt more than the reasons for it help.

All it takes is for Jax to look at the flicker of desperation Lily normally keeps hidden in her eyes. Maybe it’s easier for someone else to feel it, too. “Okay, okay,” he grunts out, immediately sliding into a different kind of leaning stance. One that reminds Nadya of a tiger; of the predators they actually are. “But we do this as carefully as possible, and we need to find someone who won’t think twice about what’s going on.”

Lily grins wickedly. “So someone high off their asses, got it.”

Anyone else — and perhaps even a version of Nadya in which none of the events of the last year-and-then-some have never happened, thus making her staggeringly normal — would—should—find this to be ‘too far.’ But that version of her doesn’t exist. The last year-and-then-some did happen and Nadya would rather her friends do what they can to keep themselves safe and strong and very much not easily beaten bloody. Despite all of that and with her compromised morals aside, though, she draws the line at actually helping them find someone. That’s a bit like asking a vegetarian which beef tenderloin looks the best, isn’t it?

The girl Lily and Jax finally agree on is ordinary. Well, ordinary in a hangs-out-in-French-clubs kind of way; so almost alarmingly pretty in ways Nadya doesn’t want to describe for the health of her own self-image. There’s a moment where she wants to question their choice only because she doesn’t… look like she’s on something. But when Jax goes over with his dark hair swept a bit over his eyes and the top three buttons of his shirt undone and does his thing — Nadya realizes she’s just a hilariously bad judge of sobriety.

Probably doesn’t help that she’s not too sober herself.

Could be minutes, could be ages, either way Jax finally gets the young woman to follow him out through the back door of the club. “He told her he had a motorcycle,” Lily tells her, making sure to lean in and keep both of their heads down as they abandon the rest of their drinks and follow soon after, “which actually isn’t that bad of an idea.”

“What a gentleman.”

“Actually you’d be surprised. He dresses like a bad boy but he’s pretty tame once you get to know him.” No matter how much she wants to doubt it, though, Lily would know wouldn’t she?

Abandoning the humid atmosphere of the club for the outside world is like traveling to a whole different planet. And it’s one Nadya isn’t sure they should be on; not when the abrupt shift in all her major senses acts as a big fat slap in the face to the fact she’s definitely had more than she thought. It’s like the lack of constant thrumming of bass in her veins throws her off-kilter; has Nadya reaching out for Lily’s arm to steady herself on something, well, steady.

“You sure you’re okay to be lookout?” She gives Nadya a once-over that’s just long enough to show she’s reconsidering. Which simply cannot do. So she pulls up her Big Human Girl Pants and practically shoves Lily away.

“I’m fine!”

Lily’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “I dunno… you’re reminding me of Easter again.”

“Hush, we promised never to speak of Easter.”

“Well at least you remember that.”

It’s the perfect place for this sort of thing; an alley only open at one and and with a large chunk of old wooden pallets stacked precariously against one wall and a dumpster pressed up against the other. The smell isn’t exactly what Nadya would call appetizing, and it can’t be much better for Lily’s hyper-senses, but the hunger wins out over bad smells just like it does over continuing to argue. She squints through the fingerprint smudges on her glasses, trying to catch a glimpse of Jax in the darkness, but all she can see are shadows. Can’t even tell if they’re moving or not.

“Is he back there?” Turns out sight isn’t what was needed, though. Nadya isn’t exactly familiar with dingy alley makeout sessions but she does know what intense kissing sounds like. “This is gonna scar me for life.”

Lily pecks her cheek; when she pulls back her eyes are bright and red and near-primal. “You’re the best B-F-F ever, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, go… slurp or whatever.”

She’s lookout, remember? No amount of money could get her to follow and watch.

With a couple (light) smacks to her cheeks and a big gulp of wintery air Nadya whirls around on her heel. The club back door is on her left, the mouth of the alley dead ahead — oh yeah, nobody’s gettin’ in here without her knowing about it.

Well… nobody except for the returning hallucination of Evil Henchman #1.

“Just ignore him, he’s not real…” Nadya mutters under her breath. The same thing Serafine had her say the first time this had happened, and every time after. Eventually her psyche will re-align itself or… re-build her defenses or… whatever technical term there was for the echo of her own memory going away on its own. “Or at least try and think of someone less ugly.”

The hallucination frowns; deep lines carving themselves into his face all the way up around his lumpy bald head.

Nadya’s halfway to pulling out her burner phone to beat Lily’s high score on ‘SNAKE’ when it dawns on her.

Hallucinations don’t react.

“Found you.”

#bloodbound #bloodbound fanfiction #chocies bb #kamilah x mc #adrian raines #lily spencer #jax matsuo #serafine dupont #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #; my fics #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #gaius augustine

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ofaylin · 4 years ago

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⌠ BAHAR SAHIN, 19 CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, AYLIN KALELI! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in LINGUISTICS, CULTURE, & ASSIMILATION AND RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (hair pulled back with a chanel ribbon, lycra boots with razor blades in the heel, champagne and french macarons in a bubble bath, wiping your tears with a $100 bill). when it’s the (leo)’s birthday on 8/3/00 they always request their FRENCH FRIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

bex baxter – gallagher girls

carmen cortez – spy kids

blair waldorf – gossip girl

cher horowitz – clueless

torrance shipman – bring it on

jackie burkhart – that 70s show

cordelia chase – buffy the vampire slayer

tahani al-jamil – the good place

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.

both of her parents work for the national intelligence organization of turkey, they’re big shots and they make a lot of money! she has two older sisters and she’s born into a world of wealth and expectations.

it won’t take her long to learn more languages than years she has lived, and waking up early to run drills and do obstacle courses with her sisters is routine.

picture perfect on the outside, the household within goes through turmoil. her mother is promoted to the director of the NIO and it puts a strain on her parent’s relationship.

her father starts taking more business trips, and aylin and her sisters spend nights sitting on the top of the stairs, listening in on phone conversations. aylin’s the youngest, so she doesn’t really understand what’s going on and needs to have it broken down.

aylin had always LOVED her parent’s love story – they met on a mission and they were partners for years, it’s all very romantic. so the divorce leaves her confused. how could you stop loving someone? how could you just give up?

both of her parents are an active part of her life, the divorce is…fairly amicable and they share custody. the only thing aylin doesn’t like is her father’s new girlfriend, young and totally uninvolved in the world of espionage. the girl could be her sister.

aylin spends her time split between two houses, half-belonging to each, but her parents feel GUILTY so aylin quickly learns how to use that guilt to get what she wants, whether it’s freedom or material goods.

she’s a little spoiled, but it doesn’t satisfy her. nothing really does, it just makes her feel sort of empty, so she works harder, filling time with books and training with her older sisters who tell her cool stories from their spy prep schools and teach aylin things they’ve learned when they come home for breaks.

aylin long for the day when she’s not splitting your time between other people’s homes and she’s in a place that she can really call her own.

she goes to the same spy prep school that her older sisters did in london. she’s competitive from the get-go because she’s a kaleli and people already expect things from her to begin with. she smiles when people call her by her sister’s name or mention her mother, but inside she’s seething, eager to prove that she’s good because she works hard, not because she’s someone’s sister or daughter.

it’d be a lie to say that aylin didn’t step on a few toes, and the way she skyrocket to valedictorian is a little less than savory.

she has her pick of spy prep colleges across the nation, but her mom really encourages her to choose gallagher. why? that’s weird, her mom never went there and neither does the rest of her family! but aylin really likes the idea of a place that’s all hers and she’s always wanted to see america, so she chooses it.

she’s a bit smug about being ahead of others because she’s been reading books on espionage since age 4, and if you don’t know sixteen languages, stay out of her way.

PERSONALITY:

PROUD. aylin is a very proud person, she grew up in an affluent household with important parents. when faced with a challenge, it’s her pride that tends to motivate her to be the best because she feels like she has something to prove, and she’ll turn her nose up at you until she gets it. this also makes her stubborn.

INTELLIGENT. aylin was raised in an environment where she was being trained since her childhood, knowing about espionage since she could speak, but she also has an iq of 122, so not quite genius level but she’s getting there. she’s the head cheerleader type that you’d be surprised is actually really good at math.

HARD-WORKING. queen of taking on too many extracurriculars at all times! honestly she tends to overexert herself until she burns out, but she wants it all – the exciting social life, the straight As, the meaningful connections, the parties, when does she sleep? maybe never.

SNOBBISH. honestly, she doesn’t mean to come off as a snob but she definitely does because she hasn’t really known anything other than crystal dishware and fancy clothes. she doesn’t even comprehend that other people don’t come from the same place of privilege that she has.

FUN-LOVING. the girl you want to party with! just because she’s a good student, she wouldn’t want you to think that she doesn’t know how to have a good time. aylin operates in extremes, so she parties just as hard as she studies and has a tendency to get carried away, but let it be known that she’s doing this for herself and not for anyone else’s attention.

MANIPULATIVE. aylin will step on toes to get what she wants, and she’s not scared to fight dirty. she tends to stay in the lines of what’s legal of course, but if she sees a window into getting what she wants, she’ll say what she needs to in order to get it. honestly, she can be a bit callous with the way she uses people and doesn’t always understand the effects of her actions. she would tell you that the ends justify the means. yikes.

INDEPENDENT. doesn’t need you or anyone else and wants you to know it. her confidence is genuine and real, and she doesn’t attribute any of her accomplishments to her family name – she’s not insecure about it, she knows that she’s good at what she does.

HEADCANONS.

started school early, so she’s a bit young for her grade by a year. she sees this as a positive thing and will brag to you about how she’s younger AND smarter. annoying.

acts like she really likes healthy food and eats a salad in public ( will tell you that’s her favorite food ) but she’s weak for things that are greasy and fried and will be pigging out in secret. her favorite food is french fries but you probably wouldn’t guess that about her !

LANGUAGES SHE KNOWS: english, french, turkish, arabic, german, kurmanji, italian, dutch, spanish, mandarin, japanese, latin, hindustani, malay, russian, bengali. some are better than others and some she reads more than she can really speak.

taught herself to skateboard since coming to america since it seemed like the thing to do based on watching american films. she will ride her little penny board in high heels around campus and loves it ! and you thought i couldn’t make her more annoying !

tons of expensive lingerie but u can look but don’t touch.

has a little stuffed rabbit in a tutu that she got as a baby named dans tavşanı, and she always sleeps with it lol. however, it was recently stolen in her luggage when she was traveling home after the semester and she misses it a lot.

started drinking bc she wanted to be like her sisters and fit in and she’s fun to party with, but has never seen or touched a single drug in her life, not even weed. with parents that work for the government, she’s concerned about it.

super into classic romances, her favorite book is pride and prejudice and jane austen is her favorite author! loves classic romance movies too, or anything by norah ephron. she’s lowkey a romantic and needs to be romanced and feel special before she’d ever consider dating someone or even crushing on them, really. scary movies freak her out though, she will lose her shit at a jump scare.

her parents are not super strict about their religion, but she doesn’t eat pork and her dad doesn’t keep any alcohol in the house. she definitely keeps a lot of secrets from her parents, and they don’t know that she’s ever had a boyfriend.

lowkey a HUGE nerd !!!!!!!

leo with a virgo rising and cancer moon. i am so SORRY !

#there's only a couple tweaks in here but not much new #just wanted a new graphic #gallagher:intro

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caltropspress · 4 years ago

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Notes on Pink Siifu’s NEGRO

You and anybody else who wants to get their random vicarious kicks off White Power can stay the fuck away from me.

—Lester Bangs

Tell a nazi he can suck my dick. —Pink Siifu, from “SMD”

My first contact with white america was marked by her violence, for when a white doctor pulled me from between my mother’s legs and slapped my wet ass, I, as every other negro in america, reacted to this man-inflicted pain with a cry. A cry that america has never allowed to cease; a cry that gets louder and more intense with age….A cry? Or was it a scream? —H. Rap Brown (Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin), from Die Nigger Die!

it is the hour of conflict, antagonism, struggle the world turning autumn in warpaint everything silently prepares to scream —Amiri Baraka, from “Disorder”

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. To that end, white institutional power bestows awards on singular figures when it’s convenient. Let’s call one such example Kendrick Lamar. Pulitzer Prizing DAMN. is white institutional power taking cover. This, in no way, defangs DAMN. But it does provide crowd control. Pink Siifu, meanwhile, won’t be awarded a Pulitzer for NEGRO. If he did, I’m confident he’d pull an Adrienne Rich, telling President Clinton to choke on his National Medal for the Arts, seeing as how the U.S. gov’t drives “the demonization of our young Black men.” Siifu would be PE boycotting the Grammys on the grounds of Black invisibility. Or John Lennon relinquishing his membership in the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire because, well, empire (see: Biafra).

NEGRO is what happens when Three 6 Mafia goes full bandolier, full decolonization, full Thomas Sankara. When the emphasis is on the 666 sirening[1] across white cop foreheads, reflecting off Makrolon face shields. Siifu cites and channels Sun Ra, June Tyson, Death, and Bad Brains, but you also hear the mass hysteria of Abbey Lincoln’s vocal cords trembling, of Max Roach’s We Insist! in a street brawl showdown with the LRAD. Basically, it’s Ornette blowing sax in a riot, harmolodics like incendiary devices.

“FK” is the primal scream reaction of hearing the news another one of your people has been killed, snuffed out. Suffer through our screams, it says to the listener. And “out of body, out of mind” distorts what we see with what we witness. It’s the re-played, re-tweeted, re-shared visuals of Black death.

At moments, NEGRO sounds like Aaron Dilloway organizing a chapter of the White Panther Party.

Siifu’s lyrics are a Stokely speech draft. His artistry is prismatic, shattered pane glass: crust punk, jazz cat, marching band drummer, hood ballerina, noisemaker, bareknuckle emcee. His lyrics should be run off on the mimeo and saddle-stitched into a chapbook for Totem Press to publish.

“SMD” samples from Ivan Dixon's 1973 film The Spook Who Sat by the Door (“Do you hear me, man?...I am BLACK!”). Just like dead prez sampled the dialogue before Siifu on “We Want Freedom.” Siifu and dead prez are bedfellows, for sure, but Siifu's head rests on a pillow of static. It’s the friction that electrifies.

NEGRO is the art of de-arresting in audio form. As the comrades at Mask Magazine have stated, de-arrests “are beautiful,” reminding us “the law and the state are not supernatural forces.”[2]

I’ve always felt uncomfortable using the word freedom. It’s a word that’s been co-opted and gutted to the point of parody. I subscribe only to a different form of freedom, one articulated in noise. Suicidal Tendencies’ “Freedumb” cuts it: “Peace through politics is a fallacy—that doesn’t exist.” Liberation more seriously expresses the extinction agenda. Poor Righteous Teachers taught the curriculum out of Trenton, on “Freedom of Death”: “Consciousness—it’s a must / Just avoid the wicked, wicked ways of this pale Caucasoid.”

Regardless, we see freedom, liberation, knife through even with Siifu’s orthography. Revolutionary thought requires revolutionary language. Ask the Combahee River Collective. Come correct. Fuck autocorrect. Remember womyn. Siifu spellings like: nxggas, eye, tyme, iono, and the evergreen ameriKKKa. The abbreviated words—eliding letters wherever possible—don’t reflect self-censorship so much as the mindmaze of a harried man. Deliberate typos demonstrate no faith in the system. It’s like if Bon Iver (see: “22 (OVER S∞∞N)”) decided to forgo BLM symbolic gestures (Mahalia Jackson) and straight-up encouraged looting. Siifu is CAPS LOCK happy, too. We’re witnessing the joy of militancy.

To begin with, it must be said that former African slaves and their ancestors have been the avant-garde of everything in this country. There’s no culture in America, in this American wasteland, without us. There’s no classical music; there’s jazz, and that was invented by us. And besides that, America has nothing to offer the world and it never has. —Idris Robinson, from “How It Might Should Be Done”

Siifu in the audience of the Congress of Afrikan Peoples, and Baraka imploring him like, “Get up, Pink Siifu.” It’s nation time. But on “Nation Tyme.,” Siifu groans, I’m tired…can’t fall…asleep. Black rage, of course—but what of Black insomnia? The French revolutionaries abolished the calendar. CPT, so, is rightly weaponized. “I feel fettered by Western time,” Gregory Pardlo writes in “Colored People’s Time.” Punch clocks need punching, smashing. I saw Baraka roll up to a conference panel late as fuck once, cane-walking right down the center aisle, shameless, commandingly.

In a somnolent slur, Siifu says, “They treat me like I’m wasting away / I know I’m worth more than they pay.” What of these capitalist definitions of work? What of productivity? What does it mean to monetize every waking moment? He’s been quoted as saying, “I ain’t have to work for no white man.”[3] “Nation Tyme.” picks up there.

10. Feel like deadmeat. They say I’m deadmeat.

“DEADMEAT” is a pig siren stuffed into an industrial-grade slaughterhouse grinder. It sounds the way Alan Vega's sculptures look—hazardous masses of electronic junk, like wires raveled inside a homemade bomb, like buzzing viscera.

I want to see Siifu perform it at the Meat Locker, a cellar club in the underguts of Montclair, New Jersey (s/o the dramacydal Outlawz). The place is dingy and bedecked with feces—a venue befitting a GG Allin opener. GG Allin, a racist, who also hated cops. Who, on “Shove That Warrant Up Your Ass,” a track that appeared on the posthumous Brutality & Bloodshed For All album, sang, “You say I broke the laws in your state… / Your courts and cops should all be hung.” Allin hoists a headless, legless, armless torso on his hip in the cover photograph—a slab of meat. Like the Beatles with baby doll parts and prime cuts in their laps, bloodless butcher coats on the original Yesterday and Today (1966) artwork. Like the papal kill floor in Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” (1954) with its tapestry of offal. But what you don’t get from Bacon, or the Beatles, or GG Allin is what Siifu needs us to hear. What Siifu tells us is the reality of corporeality is that cops continue to make carcasses of Black people.

11.

That cellar club can be scream therapy, can be cell therapy. Siifu brings us there—to the darkest, dampest corner of the Dungeon Family’s dungeon. Big Gipp, speaking self-defensively: “Try to separate me from the blood / Is disrespect like you coming in my home and not wiping your feet on the rug.” It’s echoed in Siifu addressing the question of his audience: “This [album] is for black people, but I know white people are going to fuck with it. I’m mad cool with that. I just want everyone to know, before they come through the door, that this is a black house and you have to respect my people.”[4] The theme of respect as it relates to a sense of home, to cultural tourism, is paramount in both. Everyone’s got to know their place. No listener should approach ignorant of the auction block. Siifu’s noise refuses the separation of kinsfolk and his stubbornness makes the dungeon shake—he is rightfully “tough, dark, vulnerable, moody,” and, on NEGRO, he has a “definite tendency to sound truculent.”[5]

12.

“ON FIRE, PRAY!” eventually grinds the brakes to a cavernous slowjam pace. “Blood on my body / Blood on my face.”

13.

The racist dog policemen must withdraw immediately from our communities, cease their wanton murder and brutality and torture of black people, or face the wrath of the armed people. —caption on Huey Newton photograph

NEGRO’s album cover, painted by Junkyard, is a call-and-response. Pink Siifu is a portrait of exhaustion, slouched, shirtless like Huey was when he was released from the Alameda County courthouse in 1970. It’s a tableau like Huey in that rattan peacock chair was. Eldridge Cleaver orchestrated it, right down to the zebra rug.

If you squint, the glimmer of Siifu’s gold fronts looks like his jaw is wired shut. Of course, violent threats are routinely directed at Black people—that's how the system operates. Media is often behind the scope. Relentless orders to “shut up,” to silence yourself, police yourself. We know this from David Wojnarowicz, photographed with his lips sewn shut, blood dripping like shadows, in “(Silence = Death)” from 1989. The violent threats on queer life are kin to those on Black life. But Siifu, like Wojnarowicz, refuses the censorship. After all, those aren't wires—they're the glint of his grill. Siifu is dribbling blood, too, and those black splatters across the flag are like pen bursts—ink poisoning for all. If you squint, the mind’s eye might see the Pan-African flag.

The flag above his head recalls Jasper Johns’ flags: elliptical, non-patriotic, made slop-bucket sloppy from newspaper shreddings and other detritus, i.e. amerikkka is a trash heap. At least the stars are black in the “Flag (Moratorium)” rendition. Bullet hole dead center, too.

If all goes well, the riots going on—bless them—will go on interminably. Sly Stone’s customized flag with black in place of blue[6] and sharp solar-flared suns in place of Betsy Ross geometric stars is yet another parallel to Siifu’s flag. Like Sly, Siifu isn’t opposed to police ambushes. They both know you’ve got to grin at the gun of the devil. (“Don’t you mind people grinnin’ in your face,” Son House sings eternally.) Citizen takes on cop on “Thank You For Talkin’ To Me, Africa”: Bullets start chasin’, / I begin to stop. / We begin to tussle. / I was on the top. Just the same as Siifu on “SMD”: “Iono why eye ain’t shot ya.” Or on “run pig run.”: “Kill a cop / Left a pig dead.”

14.

We can't disparage any aggressive protest on the reductive grounds it's aggro or violent. I think of Pam Echols in Milwaukee in 1968. Siifu’s assertion of you are my enemy on “steal from the ENEMY” corresponds with Paris’s sophomore and shadowy album, Sleeping with the Enemy. Like on the corrode-ode “Coffee, Donuts, and Death”:

You get poached when you fuck with black folk. Said it ’til my voice was hoarse. I ain’t down with excessive force, But of course I wasn’t heard so I’m silent now. Black folk can’t be non-violent now. […] The only motherfucking pig that I eat is police.

Which is to say, try no pork, ameriKKKa.

15. RE: punk

Think of Bad Brains playing CBGB’s in 1982. Lester Bangs writes of a woman in the scene who referred to Black people as “all these boons.” He tells us a Black friend of his believes the clubgoers “[strive] to be offensive however they can.” Anti-Blackness plagued CBGB’s and nascent punk like vermin, a pestilence. A white woman in the music business claims she “liked [Black people] so much better when they were just Negroes.” These anecdotes are culled from Bangs’ 1979 Village Voice piece entitled “The White Noise Supremacists.” He notes Ron Asheton’s predilection for “swastikas, Iron Crosses, and jackboots.” He cites Ivan Julian, guitarist for Richard Hell and the Voidoids—one of the few Black individuals to grace those inchoate punk stages—as saying “whenever he hears the word ‘n-----’…he wants to kill.” He calls Nico a “dumb kraut cunt” for her brazen, Third Reich-ish brand of racism, which was no industry secret. Bangs even implicates himself, quoting an earlier article: “…it’s the n-----s who control and direct everything just as it always has been and properly should be.” He meant this, somehow, as a compliment.

16.

On “we need mo color. Abundance,” there’s no innocence left in asking “tell me your favorite color.” Siifu answers rhetorically, parenthetically, melanin. Don't settle for forty acres of color—demand abundance. Take, loot in abundance. And don't be contained by the gendered parameters of “pink or blue.” “You can have any color you like” suggests the limitless possibilities if you move your mind beyond the imposed parameters.

The “favorite color” invoked on “we need mo color. Abundance” becomes abundantly clear on the following track, “BLACK!”

17.

“ameriKKKa, try no pork” starts in a slurry of radio static, news reports of Black death. Black, Black, Black, Black. Sped up. Slowed down. Drag the progress bar. “Progress,” ha.

18.

“run pig run.” See the pig / Run away / Run, pig, run. Like a Dick and Jane basal reader. Like picking your favorite color. Like a Three Little Pigs fable. Like huffing and puffing. These are childhood exploits for childhoods that aren’t allowed to be. As long as the Kenneth and Mamie Clark doll experiments keep providing the proof, there can be no childhood innocence. So it's a carnival game in the meantime: See a pig / Shoot a pig. Huffing and puffing: Run, pig, run.

19.

"myheartHURT" is the safehouse after the shooting. It's the cooldown, the chillout. The hypnagogic nightmare. It's vaporwave minus whiteness. We all know Biz had the vapors before Daniel Lopatin. As if DJ Screw was just an apparition, a codeine cloud. The fact remains, Screw's phantasmagoria hovers above all our heads.

20.

The wail of distorted police sirens introduces “Chris Dorner.,” a track gleefully indebted to Ice-T and Body Count’s “Cop Killer.” Repetition was a popular device and it still is: die, pig, die. Chris Dorner has achieved folk-hero status in anarchist circles and beyond since he waged asymmetrical warfare on the LAPD. His manifesto has been published as a zine.[7] “No one grows up and wants to be a cop killer,” he wrote. Begs the question.

21.

“faceless wings,BLACK!” nods to Frank Castle[8], a figure who may or may not be recoverable from militias and thin blue liners, despite Gerry Conway’s best efforts.

22.

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. Pink Siifu, through NEGRO, refuses suppression and negation. Siifu delivers a hole in the head, and it’s sublime.

Footnotes:

1 “The Law comes sirening across the town.” Gwendolyn Brooks, “THE THIRD SERMON OF THE WARPLAND” from RIOT

2 “De-Arrests are Beautiful.” Mask Magazine.

3 “The Necessity of Pink Siifu’s Rage.” Marcus J. Moore. The Fader.

4 “Pink Siifu’s ‘NEGRO’ is a Riotous Mix of Jazz, Rap and Punk.” Max Bell. Bandcamp Daily.

5 Baldwin, the god.

6 “What did I do to be so black and blue?” (see: Armstrong); light a reefer and listen to the phonograph (see: Ellison)

7 Research and Destroy New York City. https://researchdestroy.com/

8 https://archive.org/details/PunisherPigs

Images:

Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Makrolon face shield, Google Image Search result | Amiri Baraka performing at the Congress of Afrikan Peoples (screenshot) | Alan Vega light sculpture (photograph) | GG Allin Brutality & Bloodshed for All album cover | The Beatles Yesterday & Today album cover | Francis Bacon, “Figure with Meat” (detail) | Goodie Mob “Cell Therapy” (screenshot) | Splitting up a family at auction, Public Domain | Huey Newton Black Panthers Minister of Defense, photographed by Blair Stapp, 1968 | Andreas Sterzing, David Wojnarowicz (Silence = Death), 1989 | Sly and the Family Stone There’s A Riot Goin’ On album cover | Jasper Johns, “Flag (Moratorium)” | Pam Echols punching cop, 1968 (photographer unknown) | Sid Vicious, nazi (photographer unknown) | Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Biz Markie Goin’ Off album cover | Oneohtrix Point Never Memory Vague album cover

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unfortunatelyilikebnha · 5 years ago

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(//Britney Spears Voice// Oops I Did it Again)

I was thinking about Sero having siblings which made me think about class 1a and like,, how few of them have canon siblings? & then I was like “well hmm, who has siblings in canon and who do I feel like SHOULD have siblings?” which has NOW spiraled to “whole family dynamic” so. Here’s this (note that I’m not gonna subtract people from families who already canonically exist like however much I’d like to launch End**v*r into the sun this is less “I rewrote things how I’d like them to be” and more “how many of these kids do I think should have siblings and if their parents aren’t developed what do I think they’re like”).

Midoriya: We already know he does not have siblings and tbh even if we didn’t know I’d still think he doesn’t. He absolutely has Only Child Who’s Kinda Lonely And Wanted A Sibling But Never Got One vibes. Also we know he has a single mom and a dad who’s not really in the picture (sidenote I love Inko Midoriya even though she failed Izuku in the past by not believing in him she loves her son so much and is trying her hardest to make up for it and do what’s best for him). I feel like her husband is like,,, not straight up the worst person ever like he’s not abusive but he’s not particularly interested in his family anymore?? Like he pays his child support but doesn’t make any effort to talk to his wife and son? He’d get divorced but he doesn’t want to go through the hassle of that legal process, especially since he’s living on a whole separate continent & would either have to go back to Japan for the legal proceedings or do it from there which would be challenging & he’s “far too busy” to do that

Bakugou: He doesn’t have siblings in canon but he does kinda give off Middle Child In A House With Lots Of Children vibes...that inferiority/superiority complex tho...oh either that or Oldest Child In A House With Lots Of Children vibes...but yeah consider middle child Bkg. Like...maybe 5-6 Bakugou children and he’s either smack dab in the middle or 3rd oldest depending if he has 4 or 5 siblings. Also it’s pretty obvious that Mitsuki’s not a good mom & Masaru is not rlly willing to stand up to her but unfortunately I can’t change that cause I said I wouldn’t mess with existing family members :/ maybe I shouldn’t give him more siblings after all, for their sake...

Todoroki: We know the todofam dynamic already. Tbh idk what kinda vibes he’d give me if I didn’t already know he had siblings, but since I know that he has siblings in canon it makes sense that he’s a youngest child (also sidenote I LOVE the Todorokisibs & I want them to have the time to bond and become like,,, real, close siblings. Also #givereiadivorce2k20). I hope someone yeets Endumpster out of existence one of these days...fingers crossed

Iida: It’s canon that he has a brother and it’s so sweet how much he admires and loves him Iida ily. Again it makes sense that he’s a youngest child; his need to be “worthy of” his brother’s legacy is rlly apparent, & feels like a total youngest sibling trait. Tbh if I didn’t know he had a brother I could also see him as an only child but I’m glad he has Tensei. I feel like his parents are hardworking but make sure to make time for their children as much as they can & make sure they know they’re loved. Iida kinda also considers some of the heroes/sidekicks who work at the Idaten agency family since they’ve been around so much during his childhood & he knows them pretty well. Also since Tensei is friends with Aizawa and Yamada they were definitely Tenya’s babysitters at least a couple times & around the house a lot so he considers them kinda like uncles or something

Uraraka: I know she doesn’t have siblings in canon but it feels like she should. She gives off big sister vibes. Like she’s canonically becoming a hero for her parents, and I think that would be even better if she also had siblings (all younger than her. At least 2 siblings, maybe 3). I want to see Uraraka with siblings @ Horikoshi why did you deprive us of this? Also we know her parents work hard and love her which I love I’m so glad SOMEONE in class 1a canonically has 2 good supportive parents

Tsuyu: We already know she has two siblings and yes she also has Big Sister Vibes. Don’t have much to explain abt this one, she’s just mature and dependable in like the Older Sister Specific Way (not that all older sisters are mature and dependable, just that there’s a kind of mature and dependable that directly comes from being an older sister specifically). I feel like her parents love her and her siblings & taught them to be truthful & stuff but are kinda quiet and reserved with their affection, and they’re often busy with their jobs so Tsuyu had to take on some extra responsibility caring for her siblings

Yaoyorozu: She’s an only child and yeah, it makes sense. Her parents only have one child to focus on, and as such it’s pretty obvious she feels the full pressure of their expectations, giving her pretty obvious Only Child Vibes. Although I guess you could also look at it as youngest child vibes cause I could just as easily see her having a bunch of talented successful older siblings/one Really Talented Older Sibling so she feels the pressure in following in their footsteps (think either Daphne from scooby doo mystery incorporated or Tahani Al-Jamil from the good place except she doesn’t necessarily hate/resent her siblings but is just kinda insecure about her “worth” compared to them. This is where the second guessing she suddenly displays in canon could come in - correct me if I’m wrong but she didn’t rlly show signs of second-guessing herself until the sports festival? So she’s fine in class where nobody rlly knows her but once she’s at the sports festival which is nationally televised she starts to doubt herself because her parents and sister(s) are watching & she’s like “oh no what if my sister(s) would be better than me at this” so that’s why she suddenly loses confidence). I kinda implied before but I feel like her parents are pretty strict & have high expectations for her & while they’re not needlessly cruel, they won’t tolerate less than the best

Jirou: Pretty sure she has no siblings in canon BUT she TOTALLY gives off youngest sibling vibes. I’m thinking she’d have like a cool older brother who likes to embarrass her. Her parents are pretty chill (I think that part’s kinda canon?). She has lots of older cousins who she’s pretty close with and one bad*ss lesbian aunt who’s pretty much her role model (Jirou when she was younger: I wanna be just like my aunt!!! Jirou now: ah. That’s why. I also like girls.)

Kirishima: Again I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have siblings in canon and as for whether I think he gives off sibling vibes??? I’m not entirely sure. I was gonna say I don’t think so cause like. He gives off vibes that he’d be good with siblings but doesn’t actually have them, kinda like Midoriya (but like,,,I also kinda want to give him siblings so I’m not sure). Also you know that fandom headcanon that he has 2 moms? Yeah I love that that’s canon you can’t convince me otherwise. He has 2 moms and they both love him so much & wanna support him however they can (also I kinda put a little thought into them for a fic I started writing and decided that they’re the embodiment of the tattoo parlor/flower shop au. Flower mom keeps some arrangements that are...not necessarily professional in her shop because her wife arranged them for her. Tattoo mom gives flower mom tattoos for free & they have matching tattoos that flower mom designed)

Koda: he gives me Could Have Siblings vibes as in he kinda feels like another middle child but I feel like he’s actually an only child (like he probably is in canon? I think). His parents are quiet like him but they definitely love him and he knows it. He’s really close to his grandparents (who also live with his family) as well. He also, quits predictably, has a lot of animal friends who are kind of like family to him cause they’ve been through a lot together (the Koda family household sometimes looks a little bit like a zoo because 3 people in it have talking-to-animal-related quirks)

Sato: another idk about canon but he has a little sister. I cannot tell you why I think this but he definitely has a little sister. Sato you have been diagnosed with Big Brother Energy. Also he totally has a single dad who owns a bakery which is how Sato knows how to bake so well! They’re not poor but they’re not rich and he hopes to send some of his paycheck to support his family & help his dad expand the bakery. It wasn’t the primary reason he became a hero (that was because a hero once saved his little sister from a burning building & he decided that he wanted to be able to save people like that hero had saved his sister), but he does like the benefit of the paycheck

Tokoyami: tbh my first instinct was no siblings but I think it would be really funny if he had like. 3 really preppy siblings (one older than him two younger) & he was the only goth one in his family. Or like. His dad is also goth but his mom & other siblings r super preppy. He loves them all but is very much introverted and he and his dad are closer than the rest bc they kinda bond over being less energetic. His siblings & mom don’t REALLY understand Tokoyami’s goth-ness but they love and support him anyways. His younger siblings lowkey like Dark Shadow maybe even more than him tho. Dark Shadow was pretty sad when he heard they’d be moving to the dorms because he would miss them

Kaminari: tbh I first thought he had only child vibes (he kinda does) but then I decided that he has siblings but their age gaps are pretty significant. His older sister has just gotten out of university and is working and his younger sister is like...7 maybe. His siblings both love him but the age gaps between them make it hard for them to connect sometimes. Anyways I feel like his parents are pretty neglectful & caught up in their work. They don’t really pay attention to him or his other siblings, so his older sister had to learn things like cooking and cleaning and do a lot of taking care of Kaminari and he had to help take care of his younger sister, especially after his older sister went to uni. His parents just assumed he’d come to work at their electric company but he didn’t want to do that so while he definitely wants to save people a big part of his desire to become a hero is to make real connections and prove to his parents that he’s worthy of love and attention. He took the UA exam without telling them and when they found out they would have told him no except that they figured the exposure of their son going to the top hero school in Japan would give them more business. When he moved to the dorms he missed his sisters but was glad he didn’t have to be the main caretaker of his little sister anymore (his parents hired a nanny, which they hadn’t wanted to do before because of how much money it would cost, but because they had in fact gotten more business due to Denki going to UA they had a little more money now). (The nanny and Denki’s sister became fast friends, a fact of which he was glad because it meant he wasn’t leaving her alone in an empty house. He called and visited his sister as often as possible)

Hagakure: honestly I’m pretty sure she’s an only child in canon and she DOES give off only child vibes I think...unlike Midoriya tho I don’t think she’d be particularly bothered by it? I mean I feel like she’s kinda lonely but that’s less about lack of siblings & more bc of lack of people seeing her. But her parents rlly care about her & support her however they can, & they also understand her bc they’re invisible too so they know how it feels to have to work hard to be noticed when you can’t exactly be seen

Aoyama: either both his siblings are way older than him or he’s an only child. He does not give me “is super close with his siblings” vibes. He’s definitely seen as the baby in the family and not in a “he gets away with everything & is the parents’ favorite” way in the “they think he’s kinda a failure” way. His siblings look down on him, his mom pities him because he was the only one to inherit her quirk, which hurts to use, & his dad kinda doesn’t rlly care about him one way or the other. The family gives me pretty rich vibes. Like not as rich as the Yaoyorozus/Iidas/Todorokis but still pretty rich. He went to UA mostly because he wants to get stronger both so that his mom can stop pitying/worrying about him and so that the rest of his family won’t look down on him anymore

Ojirou: l also think he has a few siblings (like...no more than 2 tho). I think younger siblings, he’s also a character with big brother energy (tho I could also see middle child Ojirou). His mom runs a dojo which is part of the reason why he’s so good at martial arts. His dad is an artist. They’re pretty close and love and respect each other. His parents were surprised but supportive when he announced he wanted to go to UA

Ashido: an only child. Her parents love her a lot & make sure she feels supported. She sometimes wishes she had siblings but not super often because she has tons of good friends (this along with Kirishima being an only child who wants siblings sometimes only makes their brotp more epic)!! Also she still keeps in close touch with her civilian friends from middle school but kinda feel disconnected from them sometimes because they’re living such different lives than her. Like they’ll talk about the latest movie and ask her if she’s seen it and she just says no and kinda laugh it off because she can’t just say “no, I wanted to but villains tried to kill my class the day we were planning to go”. She also has a hard time telling her parents that because she knows they’d be super worried about her and she really wants to be a hero!

Sero: has siblings (is somewhere in the middle) and also a huge extended family!!! Before the dorms he lived with his mom and siblings but his extended family lived really close to them and visited all the time so he’s really close to both sets of grandparents and his many aunts and uncles and little cousins (though he’s a middle child in his immediate family he’s one of the oldest cousins). Though he misses his family he sees them as often as he can, and is kinda glad for how chaotic and loud the dorms can be sometimes because it reminds him of his home

Shoji: has a little brother, a mom, and a step-dad. It took a while for him to get used to his step-dad, but it becomes clear that he really loves his family so now Shoji loves him too and is fairly close to him. Shoji’s little brother is adopted because there were complications with his mom’s pregnancy when she was having Mezo and while he turned out fine, they found out that it would be risky for his mom to attempt to get pregnant again. His little brother also has a mutation quirk (though it’s not Dupli Arms it’s Bear) and Shoji loves him more than anything else in the world. He wants to become a hero to help combat the stigma around certain mutation quirks (Gang Orca once canonically kinda addressed that that exists when he talked about how children are always afraid of him bc of how he looks) so that the world will be better for people like him and his brother. His mom and stepdad wholeheartedly support him

M*neta: Only doing this bc my brain will not shut up & is making me analyze all of 1a even the ones I don’t consider 1a. I hope he doesn’t have siblings so less people have to be exposed to his...m*neta-ness but tbh I could see him having siblings. His parents are busy and either don’t notice or don’t care what a terrible person their son is

Better purple boy who deserves a place in 1a way more than the grape Shinsou: has no siblings but gives off IMMENSE big brother vibes. Definitely grew up in the foster system (his biological mother, who was a single mother and also had a mind control quirk, became a villain because she couldn’t get hired anywhere, had no way to support her son, and was tired of being villainized by society so she was like “ok you want a villain? Bet.” When Shinsou was like 7, his mom was killed while trying to flee a crime scene. Since Shinsou had no other parent, he was then put into the foster system. Nobody adopted him because everyone thought he was going to become a villain like his mom had, and even the people who didn’t know his mom thought his quirk was “villainous”). Aizawa and Yamada are now eventually planning to adopt him. He kinda has similar vibes to Midoriya in regards to the “Only Child Who’s Kinda Lonely And Wanted A Sibling” but unlike Midoriya he would NEVER admit he wanted a sibling. “I like being alone” he insists. He is a lying liar. However as soon as he meets Eri they instantly connect & he kinda becomes like a big brother to her even tho he will deny it until Eri herself calls him her brother. When this happens he will cry even tho he will say he didn’t

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