#i am suffering nobly

[thelibrarybat]

Of course I would have to get head-over-heels into something that only has 19 English-language fics on Ao3

[wickedlittlecritta]

three and a half more hours at this airport before this fucking flight

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i am equally if not moreso bothered by the way the narrative not only treats pittacus' unambiguously awful behavior toward celwe as heroic, but tries to downplay her abuse by setrákus of all people, by which i mean i'm fucking incensed by it lmao. it is a different Kind of Fuck meta-wise than what's going on with the ambiguity between pittacus and setrákus, but i still have a rant or two in me about it make no mistake

having thoughts about like. how the flashbacks we see of setrákus, pittacus, and celwe are ambiguous enough--the tiny slices we get of their dynamic, and all of the missing context in between--that pittacus' nastiness toward setrákus might be in response to setrákus being abusive toward him while they were growing up. and setrákus' nastiness toward him might be in response to pittacus being abusive toward him while they were growing up. or maybe they were just shitty to each other and in general, with celwe and Everyone Else getting caught in the crossfire.

the authors probably intended for it to be the first option, to the extent they were thinking about it in those terms at all: pittacus grew up with a friend who's been shitty to downright abusive toward him, and by their big confrontation he's had enough time away from him to unpack how fucked up his behavior was, and understand his tactics in order to call them out. you could interpret it that way, and were probably meant to, and it would make sense.

but... that assumption is kind of the problem, to me. because the other very much valid way to interpret what we see is a certain kind of abuse that's bad enough by itself, but is primarily aimed at neurodivergent and otherwise marginalized people in particular. (and setrákus is autistic as fuck.) and it's abuse that widely goes unseen and ignored, and is most often perpetuated by people who know they can afford to do it, or think they can.

might have to come back to it in more detail in a reblog, honestly, because it's a lot to talk about; but essentially it comes down to silencing someone by either openly dismissing what they say as nonsense that no one can understand but them, and isn't important enough to try, or disguising it behind a bad faith ''attempt'' to understand so they can say they tried and there's no point. it's a lifelong trauma which has shaped enormous parts of my personality and how i communicate, i can spot it a mile away, and i see all the hallmarks of it in their relationship and how setrákus is affected by it.

and that bothers me. it bothers me a lot that we're supposed to see one and not the other. it bothers me that it's not even 'pittacus' behavior is genuinely shit, but it's somewhat more understandable in the version of events where the context is that he was abused'; he's framed as the hero of the situation either way, who's acting out of pure kindness and reason and good intent. it bothers me that the person who is easy to interpret as having been abused this way would, even then, still be depicted as the Abusive Hate Sink Incarnation of Evil. (because he is abusive, and he is very much an evil son of a bitch. regardless of who was worse in his relationship with pittacus, that's true.) and it bothers me that that framing makes it harder to explore how the cycle of abuse manifests in this scenario, because it absolutely is a thing that happens and is worth telling stories about.

just, i don't know. thoughts. hm.

[wordslikesilver]

Seeing the discourse lately on transmisogyny and coming across new terms like tme and tma being used more than I think I’ve ever seen before because of everything going on had me uneasy, not gonna lie, I always do when I find new terminology from the alphabet mafia because I’m thinking to myself oh boy, more stuff to explain to cis people. Looked into it, it all seems pretty reasonable to me tho for including nonbinary femmes and femme intersex people I’ve sorta just always by default assumed “Trans Femme” was really good given the whole “it’s a spectrum and transmisogyny by definition is talking about the people on the femme side of it who didn’t start there” so admittedly I’ll probably be a grump about changing my vocab soon.

But then I see some new shit in the wake of all this TERF nonsense and bigotry being used against trans women? Detransitioned cis women calling themselves trans women and saying WE don’t understand the concept of gender well? The audacity? Look, changing the labels of a community to be less offensive is something I support so loudly and love and adore. This isn’t that. This is people encroaching on our pride and our identities and pretending the flag we nobly fly, the icon of bravery and unifying love in the face of oppression that it is, isn’t clearly “ours” enough. That it’s something they’re allowed to say belongs to them too so we need to come up with something new to call ourselves when we discuss the pain we face in our lives. Erasing and rewording the definitions of who we are til our identity is gone altogether. Moving the goal posts and telling us to teach everyone a whole new set of labels when the average layman still doesn’t even know that “Cis” isn’t a fucking slur, let alone what it means. Never forget that at your core when you fight against this new bigotry and they try to dance circles around you with their words and misdirect the conversation to stupid shit. Alienation from an already unified identity is a classic means of making it so much fucking harder for the oppressed to have their pleas for basic rights be acknowledged. Never let your people’s pain be silenced by someone pretending to they’re too stupid to know who you’re talking about.

To the TERFs and bigots who find this, and I fucking hope you find this, Trans Woman is not yours to fucking claim just because “gender is a construct and complicated” you will NEVER know the pain people like me have been through. I refuse to acknowledge a claim on my people’s identity because someone managed to misunderstand a concept hard enough and it’s now snowballed into a new form of complicating discussions of deserving basic and equal rights. I have felt the pains a cis woman has felt, I have felt sexist and awful treatment from men, I have been catcalled, I have been stalked, I have been made unsafe, I have been expected to be a mother for no other reason than “all women want them one day” and I have been assumed to be less than a man for some imagined frailty of the fairer sex. I am a woman. We can share that label, I WANT to share that label. We can bond over sapphic love and feminine experiences and hardships we both suffer under a cruel patriarchy. In just the same way, I have never known the pain of period cramps. I don’t have a vagina. I will never have a pregnancy scare and I will never feel the side effects of birth control. I wasn’t catcalled by gross men walking home when I was in high school. I was never sexualized by the media when I was in middle school the way cis girls would see happen to them. I am NOT a cis woman and I will never be one. I grew up as a boy, I lived and I loved as a young man, I saw the world through masculine eyes and was raised being treated as one, I will never pretend I know what it’s like to be a young girl being preyed upon and used by an older man. I will never touch that label because it’s simply not correct at the most fundamental level. I am a trans woman and that made me who I am. After all the people I’ve met and all the experiences I’ve shared, it took time to be so proud of calling myself a trans woman. Holding up the sky would’ve taken less strength of the heart, but now I feel the deepest pride knowing I’ve done something inconceivably harder.

But you, you people cannot take that from me and my sisters. I draw the fucking line at saying you think you have the slightest notion of what it’s like to be transfeminine. To be born in a body that makes people see you as a man from the very first glance, to hear you wrong from the first whisper of your voice. To spend the rest of your life working tirelessly in a fight against your own biology and/or the perception of the entire world whenever it casts its ugly eye upon you. Some of us don’t even have the privilege of fighting those perceptions or the things or own bodies have been programmed to force on us. Some of us don’t even want to have to do anything about how we look because it’s bullshit to have to fight for that basic respect from our peers in the first place and their standards just don’t align with who we are deep down in the first place! Gender is complicated but this isn’t. Have you EVER held your breath in the women’s public washroom and tucked your feet in because you were scared you’d make other women uncomfortable, because you’re not sure if you’re in an accepting space? FEARED what might happen if you step into the women’s change room to put on a bathing suit or your work clothes? Have you EVER been threatened with physical violence and called slurs in front of your own mother on public transit? Have you ever had to tell your doctor you’re ready to drop out of school to show how “sure” (re: fucking desperate) you are to be prescribed HRT? Sure, lots of cis women are on HRT, I treat them as patients all the time. Have you ever had a hot flash at the age of 21 because you were late on your injection? Did you pierce your skin with thin metal once a week for years and years to get the breasts you have? Did your body do irreparable things to your bones and your voice that make it so no one will ever see you as a woman at first glance without thousands of hours of effort, of tears, of sheer fucking focus and fixation on achieving the ideal self you see in your mind and dream of being one day? DID YOU HAVE TO BEG YOUR GOVERNMENT TO LET YOU HAVE THE BODY YOU LITERALLY ALREADY HAD AT BIRTH OR DID THEY NEVER EVEN SO MUCH AS TRY TO GET IN THE WAY OF JUST BEING CALLED MISS ON YOUR GOD DAMN LICENSE? Cis women can’t even begin to imagine the feelings I have felt, building my wings of feather and bones and wax, day after day, dreaming of flying beside my sisters who were born with wings they’ll never fear will melt, all the while remembering the last time someone born in a body like mine flew too close to the sun. Maybe they’ll perhaps know what it’s like to bind them to their back and hide them beneath their shirt, maybe they’ll even have sheered and ripped the bones from their sockets and one day wish they could have them back and sing with the rest of the angels like they used to, but they will NEVER fly on wings like mine, fear the heat from the light that makes life worth living the way I do, fear the same slings and arrows screaming up through the air from down below and even at times from above my head to let me know loud and clear they wanna knock me outta this sky, this sky that’s so beautiful and holy I cry when I touch it, the very first chance they get.

Transphobia won’t ever take the sky from me. My Icarian Wings are made on the foundation of generation after generation of my people who dreamed and yearned to touch the sunlight blue skies and the infinite glittering nights, each of us telling each other, telling ourselves we’ll never fear the light again one day, lifting each other when we fall, soaring higher each time than the ones whose wax melted before we could save them could, warmly teaching each other how to fix our broken wings and freely gifting each other the love it takes to make them stronger for the next flight. Holding each others hands as we dance and show each other how to fly, hand in hand and heart in heart with the angels who call us sister angels. A cis woman having the audacity to flap her never melting wings and saying hers are just like mine, that the name of my people is just a construct so she can say she she’s just like Icarus too, makes me wanna vomit. Pretending she knows what it’s like to watch in terror as all the feathers fall out suddenly in a moment of weakness making her break her bones upon the rocks, listening to everyone around her say “I knew it, I knew his wings were fake, look at him crawl along the ground in the dirt and the mud where he belongs.” Pretending that if two people both have skin, even of a different colour, that since the labels are made up, the sun and society itself will surely treat them the same if the white one calls themselves black.

Transphobia won’t ever take the sky from me. Come and fucking try to take these wings from me and see what happens.

[ifishouldvanish]

Alucard arguably makes the greatest personal sacrifice throughout the og series because it's his late mother's wishes he must honor and his father's life he has to take. But you take those figures away, and what is left? His grief leaves him hollow, such that his first instinct is to entomb himself under the specter of his father's legacy, eternally in its shadow.

Olrox witnesses the genocide of his people and suffers the loss of the only man he's ever loved—but he survives, endures, and perseveres. You rob him of these things, and his grief is his metamorphosis. Countless hunters have promised to slice him in two, but not even a Belmont can take him down. His grief lights a fire in him that scorches anything in his path.

Adrian has defined himself by nobly protecting others, and so his sense of self will always die with them—his deeds and heroism remembered, but not his humanity.

Olrox has built a reputation across the Americas as a force to be reckoned with. He's no one's hero and serves no master—but he nonetheless finds himself forced to bow to Erzsebet.

In 300 years, there's nothing left of Adrian but the "myth". Nothing more than a tale to be told.

In 300 years, Olrox is called a "dragon". Nothing more than a beast to be vanquished.

But imagine The Myth growing fangs and claws. Sinking them into flesh and leaving a tangible mark on the world: I am here, and your hope is made up of my scar tissue. Lay your hands upon it and never again forget my pain.

Imagine The Dragon rising to its full, legendary potential. Punishing the wicked and becoming a symbol of hope for the persecuted: I am here, and my thirst for justice is my power. Try to tame it and you will only ever face your reckoning.

Imagine them being each other's apotheosis. The Dragon telling the Myth, it is you who sees Quetzalcoatl, the resplendent serpent, and makes him beloved. The Myth telling the Dragon, it is you who sees Adrian Ţepeş, the man, and makes him real.

[babblingfishes]

I hate putting shit like this on my blog, but I think it's important to make clear to my mutuals:

If you make posts guilt-tripping Americans for voting, I am regarding you as a fascist and blocking you.

Yes, the two-party system is fucked. This does not mean it is in any way responsible to let fascists take over. The fascists are not going to make the palesᴛine situation better. The fascists are going to make the palesᴛine situation worse. You Americans will vote against the fascists or I am regarding you as a utter dipshit.

Genuinely, what are you expecting to happen here? The democrats see they've lost by a couple million votes and go "uh oh, this must be about palesᴛine specifically"? No. They're idiots and politicians. They're going to look at this and go "hmm we didn't get enough swing voters" and scoot more to the right, and then we get to suffer through another four years of the fucking fascist, AND the democratic candidates will be even more insufferably centrist next election.

If you Americans think you're ~so morally pure~ that you aren't responsible for the nightmare that could be the next president, then shut the fuck up about it. I don't want to hear about how you *so nobly* can't be fucked to mark a piece of paper. How you *heroically* refuse to add to the pile that could mean life or death for every trans/latino/disabled person in your life. It's not cute. It's not helping. And if you really cared that much, you'd stop being a brat and get your hands dirty: protest, fundraise, keep your eyes on ɢaza, and vote.

Voting is the bare minimum. Do it.

[itsnothingofinterest]

You know what, it has to be said. The Class 1A generation does not feel ready succeed their predecessors as of this arc.

Between Shinsou brainwashing Machia and going out of his way to bring him to other villains to fight, and Shoji’s plan of addressing prejudice by just telling the victims to keep hopeful and suffer nobly while he does general hero stuff; I am not getting the impression that they’d be doing much more good or much less bad than the pros we’ve had ‘till now. Like, really getting some “civil rights aren’t our business we’re too busy rebuilding Tartarus, now with quick brainwashing target deployment features” vibes from these developments

It is really feeling like the kids are gonna grow up to be just as bad as the adults and that is incredibly worrying.

[lesbianrobin]

Would you be willing to share any tropes or pet peeves you have with the fandoms intepretation of HOH! Steve? No pressure at all but I know it’s gaining popularity and that fandoms historically have a shit record with disability and you’ve spoken about your frustrations with that tag. Also thank you for sharing the link to the movie!! I’ve been wanting to watch more historical films especially ones that push back against assumptions of what the past was capable of!

omg YES thank you for asking!!! so to preface for anybody who doesn't know: i myself am hard of hearing and i used to post about steve being hard of hearing sometimes prior to s4, but i haven't posted about it much since it became a Thing in the fandom because i don't trust other people on my posts lmao.

so honestly this is gonna be less about specific tropes and more of a broad ideological discussion bc i don't usually read the hoh steve fics i scroll past and i don't want to act like i Know exactly what all of them are like based off just the few i have read. however, i Have seen the tags and summaries and read the first few paragraphs of a lot of them, and i feel like that's enough for me to have like. an opinion. so ANYWAY.

my first issue is just that pretty much everyone i've seen writing hoh steve is hearing themselves. there's nothing inherently wrong with that, but the thing is that hoh steve is like. entirely a creation of fandom, yknow? there's not rly anything in canon that indicates steve has poor hearing--honestly, if anything, he seems to have rather keen ears (picking up on the background music in the russian code in s3, being the first one to hear dustin in the upside down in s4). you can certainly reverse-engineer it and argue that poor school performance can be an indicator of poor hearing, that his head injuries could potentially cause hearing loss, but neither of those are things where hearing loss naturally comes to mind without somebody looking for it, so this begs the question of why. what exactly is motivating these hearing people to write this character as hoh?

i've noticed some things that tend to go along with hoh steve. one is steddie, which is kind of a given in the st fandom at this point, but it's the things that go along with that which concern me. the "babygirl steve" thing where steve is woobified and feminized to the point of being nigh-unrecognizable seems quite common among these fics. steve often has other medical problems as well--he needs glasses, he gets migraines, he has memory loss, he's depressed, he's got chronic pain, etc, etc, and my disability is just another thing on a laundry list of issues that is seemingly employed for the sole purpose of making steve sad and hurt and pitiable so that (usually) eddie can come along and save him/baby him. i'm not gonna act like i've never tossed some shit at steve to make him suffer in a fic, but it's always for like. a Reason. and that reason has never once been just so i could ship him with somebody and make them into his savior.

i think a lot of people writing hoh steve just don't necessarily have great intentions with it, yknow? they see it as a way for steve to suffer nobly in silence and be self-sacrificial, or they think it's cute to make steve deaf since eddie plays loud music (???).

there are a lot of things i love about being hard of hearing. i love that i get to have a unique appreciation of sound that not everybody has. i love that i can take out my hearing aids when the world is too much. i love that i still discover new sounds at the age of twenty-two. did you guys know that dishwashers make noise? i didn't until today! my house was quiet and i kept hearing something strange until i tracked it down and realized! i love that i have a sense of wonder about every noise i hear! and while i don't begrudge anybody their enjoyment of hoh steve content, i have yet to see any that comes remotely close to capturing these feelings, so it's just not for me.

also this is a silly pet peeve but why is it that in these fics steve almost always learns asl and like rarely has hearing aids? like sorry but unless he's completely deaf that's out of character. steve harrington is not learning a whole new language unless he absolutely has to and has literally no other options. they had hearing aids in the eighties. c'mon people.

anyway. sorry that was so long lmao and thank you for asking!! also thank you for actually reading and caring about my within our gates post!! i highly recommend looking up some 1920s music to listen along with the film, though you can honestly listen to whatever you want--at the time, films didn't typically have dedicated scores, and individual theaters would provide their own musical accompaniment however they saw fit. oftentimes this meant a live musician would play piano during the film, and improvise to suit the mood/plot! happy viewing 💕

[princess-of-the-corner]

And for all of this, I am hated. For being there at the outset, for laying the foundations that others would willingly build on. I think they wish to find something in this story that explains things - some moment of decision, some choice that could later be regretted or accounted for. But it's just as I said - none exists. I have always been on this road, never turning never deviating. A long time ago, aware of my limitations, I formulated an expression to capture my condition: blessed is the mind too small to doubt. I am very attached to this maxim, and propagate it wherever I can. I hope it will be taken up with enthusiasm once our task is completed and the False Emperor is expunged from eternity. For now, though, I am content. I am loathed by those I betrayed, and loathed by those I guided into betrayal. I have brought a Warmaster to the Truth, and cracked the galaxy's vaults to speed his armies. I have burned worlds, and been burned by them, and who thanks me for this? This rebellion does not even bear my name - it bears the title of the scorpion I stayed closest to, the most dangerous of the breed who will ever live.

Now I observe my disgrace. I consider the wounds I have suffered, and the pain that will dog me forever. I consider those that inflicted such ignominy upon me, and how they started their stories so nobly and will end them in the gutter. They hate me not because of what I am, but because of what they were. They hate me because they turned, and I did not. The records of our enemies call us all turncoats, but I changed no allegiance. I was always here just as I am now, aware of myself and the universe that made me. I lied with every breath I ever took, except to myself. That is purity, of a kind, and something that no other soul in this grand armada of renegades can boast. I look on Terra now from my void-cold vantage and see its huddled lights glimmer in the fragile dark. Soon the order to attack will come and the final act will be entered. The monsters I created will burst from their fetters, giving no thought to what long labours brought them here.Horus mutilated me, my own primarch discarded me. That could be a cause for self-doubt, here on the edge of Terra's fall. That could make a lesser soul slink away, gnawing on his failure even as humanity's bastion collapses at last. But that's never been my way. I've been stung before and I always come back for more poison. I'm still the boy in the shadows of Colchis, pulling on the garrote-string and feeling my blood pump.The old games never really ceased, in truth. Only the players changed.Nothing remains to be explained. I can whisper these truths to my own screed-inscribed face, if I wish, that I can now hold up in front of my own eyes as my only audience. The ragged flesh is dry and cracking now, and will fall apart soon, but I keep it, just as I used to keep my mirrors for the same purpose. I took this face from another man, once, to become what I wanted to be. Now it is my reminder, that all despots are fragile, and that the hand of destiny will always be despised. Such is my power, now, I could fashion a new skin in moments. I choose not to. My face still weeps blood under my helm, glistening on flayed muscles. It hurts, and that too is a reminder. I was there at the start. I was there before we even had names for all the things we're doing now. I have no congregation any more, but I will again. The faithful will come back, thirsty for accounts of how this feat was achieved, and I will have stories waiting for them. Such stories. Stories that will make their ears bleed and their hearts burst. So it's not done yet, Erebus. Not yet. Just watch. Just watch.

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

Monologue of Erebus from Warhammer 40, about himself.

Like, there is reason why "F*ck Erebus" is most repeated phrase in Warhammer 40k

Gonna be honest I was low-key freaked out at first because I didn't realize you were quoting something

But also OOF

[aoifereal]

*emitting a pulsating aura that subjects anyone nearby to a -20% mood debuff* "I am suffering, but I am bearing it nobly and silently, and in doing so doing good by the people around me,"

[blautitlewave]

I said it on twitter but I’ll say it here: It would not matter if we had twitter and tiktok and other social media during Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, etc. documenting and sharing the atrocities suffered by our military incursions because we would still have had war hawks and bootlickers justifying the carnage committed by our troops against the native citizens of far away lands. Within America exists an enduring hot iron core of bloodthirsters who worship at the altar of retribution and collective punishment.

There is this sick hypocritical mentality of “self-control” and fetishization of “rationality” borne of the Enlightenment that is weaponized against aggrieved parties to police the latter’s very human responses to injustice. Liberals and centrists will robotically condemn all passionate and emotional outbursts as illogical and unproductive while the Establishment quietly deploys their jackboots to quell the hubbub.

The centrist believes the government is nobly resetting the chessboard, erasing out-of-bounds and “illegal” moves committed by the aggrieved parties— “can we play fairly? Cheating is not a valid response to cheating”. In its myopic arrogance, the centrist believes it is doing something by positioning itself as a referee, a detached independent party, when it is in fact cosigning the continued abuse of power by the oppressor. Centrists never push back as insistently against the system as they do to browbeat and scold the oppressed for their outbursts of frustration and pain. “Really, you must conduct yourself better.”

As for those who relish in inflicting injury for injury, they refuse to consider the perspective of the other party. Their suffering is seen as that of an insect’s—non-existent, or at best inconsequential for they are not like us and thus are not us. The difference in appearance, culture, and even geography is enough to strip them of humanity. That we allow people who hold such latent antipathy for the vast majority of our own species to exist in our societies is something to be scrutinized.

But going back to the student protesters: Even if the My Lai massacre had been plastered all over the news, and more and more atrocities piling up and spread by twitter and other social media outlets, you would still have had sick Commie-hating fucks shrugging their shoulders and blaming the Vietnamese for allowing the Vietcong [the word we would use, not my personal label of them] to use the Vietnamese people as shields, “and so can you blame the GIs for being jumpy? Why didn’t the Vietnamese kick them out?” and so on and so fucking on. No nuance, no subtlety, because in war you can’t allow for subtlety to percolate among the civilians, because then they start wondering “what’s the point”? Centrists love to think they’re the patron saints of subtlety and nuance, but that only goes so far as “I hear all arguments and lend my support to none that lead to any change. I am very wise.”

(I know these words have been articulated by much better orators than I, but I still need to get my thoughts down or I won’t be able to go about the rest of my day.)

[dangermousie]

So, I started my rewatch proper and it's just as deliciously melo OTT as I remember. I am ffing through all of FL's struggles and achievements in showbiz because I only care about the fucked up romance(s), so it's flying by.

Here is Ou Chen, having nightmares about a girl whose face he does not remember. Heeeee.

Just your usual, normal back story. Also, a man who is not the fixating type at all...

Bwahahahaha! You know, if this wasn't a soapy romance, this would make a hell of a horror story. Because this is a man whose basic beliefs about facts of life/people around him have been manipulated on a basic level not once but twice. His assistant is gaslighting him like there is a sale on the term. The best part is, when he hired fake parents which fucked up the kid ML into feral trauma and codependent clinginess of heela monster, did he learn anything? Nope. He decided to go for mark two and hired a girlfriend and faked photos and yearbooks and random witnesses. In RL, a person who had that done to them repeatedly is never gonna trust anyone. I mean, Ou Chen is a freakshow and a half, but he is 10x more normal than a person under his circs should be. (Side note - this story, like HYD, would make so much more sense and be so much more appropriate in a period setting. I mean, you can imagine him as some neglected royal prince and his assistant as a "caring" eunuch etc etc.)

Young man, I have such good news for you! Your choice of woman is gonna satisfy those cravings tenfold.

Ou Chen is SUCH a psycho. I love it.

He is doing it because he remembers doing it as a kid (it was his and OTP's meet cute ahahahaha) and wants to test if she's the same woman.

This is the most blunt break up I've ever seen and I am cracking up. I do love that there is no crazy secondary girl after this guy in the drama, mainly because if there was one, he'd just probably dispose of her body in the woods.

The flashback to high school days is glorious, because for once, it's not "psycho loves pure girl who suffers nobly and/or redeems him with her pureness." Nah, Xiao Mo, Ou Chen's one and only, is in every way as much of a psycho as he is. She's tough and spiky as hell and with a ton of issues of her own and difficult and frighteningly self sufficient (there is a reason that none of her various love tribulations ever dented her; only thing that did was the death of her brother.)

I mean, look at her with Luo Xi, the quasi-step, her other suitor and gorgeous gorgeous young Huang Xiaoming.

Bwahahahaha, our obsessive sees her on a street corner singing, has no idea who she is but is drawn like mad!

Young man, you are pickling your liver at 10am!

This is amazing!!! This is everything. Masochist has found his heaven again.

You can see the assistant going "oh fuck NOT AGAIN!"

PS I love that he's a big businessman but his outfit is idol stripper businessman cosplay.

[arcstral]

—  Fire Emblem: Engage, The Emblem Marth Retrospective.  —

Marth in FE: Engage plays a fascinating supporting role.

He has a dynamic presence on the boxart though he’s not a character native to this installment; enlarged and immediately able to be seen on the left where the eyes tend to be first attracted. His title 'Emblem of Beginnings' implicates his role as the first emblem to be summoned on Elyos. He serves as the spokesman for the emblem family in a lot of cases, and provides worldly exposition for the ancient artifacts and plot detail uprisings.

If you acknowledge his role as a witness to every phase of Alear's life from beginning to end- the parts we see in game to the invisible sections we don't see a thousand years before- he suddenly becomes larger than life. The figure that has been with Alear longer than even Lumera. Someone who has seen everything there is to see about our protagonist, to an extent where if an omniscient narrator was ever needed to narrate the events of the game, the only qualified individual by necessity would have to be the ‘Emblem Marth’.

With that that said, I was initially willing to go into Engage thinking of its Marth as an offhand spinoff version. No different from the inconsequential single-beat portrayals of Smash or even Warriors. But this idea is wrong. Engage surprised me by putting a very human, very special Marth into my hands. An echo of the original Hero-King, Emblem Marth recognizes that he is only an emblem from the very first beat of his first appearance, and yet he's unaware of how faithful of a homage he is to the individual he's extracted from.

How much he takes the foundation and honors it elsewhere.

The Emblem Marth as set apart from simply Marth is a purely loyal existence from humble beginnings to bitter end. A millennial being who answers Alear’s call for aid at every cost and asks for nothing in return but to be remembered. His duty to protect this world is equal to his desire to be at Alear’s side. It's that enduring spirit of nobility, loyalty, and devotion to his friends, even forgiveness, that places him on par with his original.

It’s the adversities that best place these traits on show.

Chapter 10 happens and brings the sky crashing down. Suffering on that course, as the last and latest emblem ring to be reclaimed from enemy hands- utterly miserable to be torn apart from Alear and company as Veyle aptly put it- still he serves to provide nothing but love and forgiveness for Alear on their long awaited reunion. The fact that chapter 10's devastation happened at all despite the counsel he’s spared. His even greater forgiveness of Veyle is extended in the aftermath, a compassionate empathy toward her circumstances that reflects the kind he shows for others in his time- his enemies. Hardin and Katarina. Camus and Michalis.

When Veyle returns the ring of the Hero-King to Alear in Chapter 22, she observes that “it was lying by your side, as if it wanted to be with you”, and to me this statement was the most touching. Marth no matter the circumstance will never, ever leave Alear behind if he can help it. But that situation, and that tragic day, arrives. And his reception to the cold fact is graceful.

Accepting his death without complaint, he quells Alear's fears with the reiterated admission of duty, no longer to Altea or to Archanea, but to Elyos. The Emblems exist to protect this world and in that call to existence is a reason worth dying for. His cessation means nothing, Marth nobly says. 'I am of no consequence' he remarks to Velyle tangentially in his paralogue when she laments at the idea of fighting him, with words that resemble humility but in actuality prioritizes the things that he sees as truly important--others.

Duty is the overpowering virtue of Marth’s character. Whereas the original Hero-King cites himself a prince before a son or a brother, this one would call himself an Emblem above all else. That sense of duty to a world not his own even manifests in many different ways. From that unique perspective of both an emblem and a king comes his wisdom, the utmost belief that a world placed in Alear’s hands will know peace and prosperity, that it would be a beautiful place.

This interaction speaks of the telling final thoughts that the Emblem Marth possesses in the last chapter of his life; a dutiful onus to realize a successor to the emblems’ legacy, someone to watch over the lands they have protected for eons. To pick up the torch in their stead. This desire is coupled with his love and peace of mind. He is proud of Alear’s growth, has seen it himself over the course of a thousand years and then some. Of all Marth’s fond observations for the Divine One, such words might be the highest level of his praise.

Such words reflect the caliber of a noble and positive existence who is aware of his bitter end and smells only the flowers. An everbright future with or without the emblems.

When the Pact Ring paralogue finally rolls around, we begin with Marth’s explication about the origins of the ring which even Vander does not know. Detailing Lumera’s mysterious history as its previous owner, and the familiarity of the local surroundings to him, it ends with his sound advice that Alear think carefully on which ally to give it. He is more than aware of the special meaning of this ring and how it will strengthen the bonds between two people.

That knowledge conjoined with his long history as Alear’s partner and a Lythos emblem posits an important side to the conversation:

He is consistently a voice of wisdom yet this example is special; it is in the late Queen Lumera’s place that Marth acts, informing her child about the ring most conducive to their happiness, second only in importance to the emblems and the birthday ring staving off Alear’s corruption. Marth, as always, is watching over the Divine One, nudging them toward their own betterment. Once a long-standing guardian to Alear’s slumber, he watches over them in the innocent and unassuming manner of this guidance as well.

Ultimately, by the game’s ending I thought very deeply about what endeared me so much to this Marth. Why I mourned so much at his loss as a 'phony' version of the original and I think I can finally put it into words. It’s about how much he exemplifies the loyal Hachiko paradigm but ten times magnified. Waiting and watching at the side of his sleeping 'owner' for a thousand years, never failing to sally to Alear's side, and even when corrupted by the fell dragon incantation- even when unable to verbalize or express any component of free will- he's able to muster the scantest smile for Alear in their darkest hour.

Marth is the emblematic mascot who goes through a dozen different redesigns and cameos in the most offshoot games- the most of any existing FE protagonist in both aspects, all differing in appearance from one another in various degrees. In terms of those many portrayals that define Marth, FE17 is nevertheless set apart in this regard by its depth. Showing more than anything that a Marth of a vastly different premise and belonging to an alienated universe is still, well, Marth.

Someone who is dutiful to extremes and deeply appreciative of his bonds, unfailingly kind. Someone who has 'always been kind' as Alear puts it.

Marth's words that Sombron's Emblem will never come back to him again is mirrored for himself. He, too, will never return, and what’s left in the wake of this knowledge is a unique iteration worth mourning. Engage teaches me nothing new about Marth but it does tell me one thing. The hero known as 'Marth' is as much a character as well as the allegoric ideal that puts greater duty and lordly goodness on the table.

Marth is Marth says Engage and that will always be an immutable worldly comfort.

[eternal--returned]

BRUTUS: No, not an oath! If not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse— If these be motives weak, break off betimes, And every man hence to his idle bed; So let high-sighted tyranny range on, Till each man drop by lottery. But if these (As I am sure they do) bear fire enough To kindle cowards, and to steel with valor The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, What need we any spur but our own cause To prick us to redress? what other bond Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word And will not palter? and what other oath Than honesty to honesty engag'd That this shall be, or we will fall for it? Swear priests and cowards, and men cautelous, Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain The even virtue of our enterprise, Nor th' insuppressive mettle of our spirits, To think that or our cause or our performance Did need an oath; when every drop of blood That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath pass'd from him.

William Shakespeare ֍ Julius Caesar (1599)

[un-re-pression]

shit shit shit, ok, um. I have very verbally asserted that if I were ever in a one-sided love I would simply suffer nobly. That's true love, when there's sacrifice! That's what I would do for someone, and that's what I hope someone would do for me, and

And this week I'm in my first relationship

I can (irl) handle one-sided love in a friendship. I LOVE seeing one-sided love with a sexual component in stories. And this week, I'm learning, apparently, all this time, I only liked one-sided love Gone Sexual in stories because the fictional context

implied that it would end

happily.

I'm so fucking fucked. In friendships I can suffer forever when I value a friend, I can at least delude myself that they would never want me back. Never cross that line, never bring that up, the feelings fade, that's friendship!

But here? Now?

Where we've seen each other. And trust each other for years. And want each other. And I brought up the idea of being partners too soon. And you're aromantic but called me your girlfriend and shared a dozen fantasies of how that would be. Told me it was okay

And then called it off after one day.

You were right to do that, of course. It IS too soon, I feel that too. Hasn't even been a week. And I love you deeply as one of my best friends. And I am so fucking mad. And I respect your decision, genuinely, and you're more reasonable than I am, and I would do anything for your comfort. And I am so. Fucking. Mad.

I'm the wrong one here. I know that.

And I'm about to pour more effort into our friendship to bolster an uncertain sexual relationship, and I always thought that was fucking disgusting when strangers would use friendship as a prop to gain sexual favors. We're not strangers, it's a real friendship already, and I don't want to be two-faced and disgusting but I suddenly need you like water

And I'm suddenly sorry to that guy who pretended to be my friend so he could try to fuck me. I'd never needed someone like this before, in single-minded craving

so

I'm keeping it down. I'm putting my partner's friend's comfort above my irrational surge of emotion. I cannot emphasize how much I am in the wrong here, how much I must've pressured another person into a label they weren't yet comfortable with. But now, experiencing it, holding my feelings back so we can be friends is not noble. It's not understanding. It just hurts. And I'm sick, and angry, and I'm disgusting.

I don't like jealousy or possessiveness as tropes in stories, either. It feels unsafe, and petty, and uncommunicative. I won't let it seep into my behavior. But I can't stop feeling these emotions. And I wouldn't read my own story.

My friend was far more noble to ask for some distance from me.

Incredibly ignoble but I'm not even breaking down because I need a label. It actually makes sense for me not to be a girlfriend, and I love my friend, full stop. I'm breaking down because I have always, always crumbled over the perception that I. Am. Not. Good. Enough.

@un-re-pression || tagged so I can reblog

[rollercoasterwords]

oh!!!! happy 100k words wfrau!!!!!!! she's getting bigger (<- like you would speak of a puppy). how long is it supposed to be & how far along are you? and also... would you like to share a snippet you like (from any chapter ofc... no pressure if no it's completely understandable)? what do you enjoy the most about writing it? bc it seems like you're having fun & it's so nice to see someone enjoying a hobby so openly online... especially writing... there's this conception that writers don't actually enjoy writing (the whole 'forcing myself to write' bit) and i'm curious to hear your perspective on it!! also!!!!!! i hope moving will be easy & fun & the world will be kind to you with the change <3 i keep telling myself 2 read marx but i can't find any good translations to my native language and reading it in english is making my brain go grgrgrgrgr like an air conditioner on its last leg so alas it might have to wait... so true for liking iced drinks they're really the best!! i've heard someone say it's childish but i think they just live a very miserable hot life in the august heat drinking their hot coffee instead of putting some ice cubes in it :) it's funny you say that about fav line because it's definitely my fav fic of your writing & the ending of it is soooo beautiful i get back to it every time i need to feel something!!!!! that song line is beautiful too omg... and well the weather is hell everywhere at least the world is all suffering together :( i hope the atmosphere isn't suffering too much :/ honestly i am a big 'i would rather be hot than cold' believer because i am from a hot country so i know how to deal with the heat but you know what i'm sure the chill can also be intriguing to some... not me though... i hope the winter will be kind on you <3 thank u for letting me invade ur ask box i am creating myself a room here for now i think. anyway. love and hugs!!!! <333

hello!! she is indeed getting bigger <3 if i had to guess right now i'd say i'm maybe...possibly nearing the halfway point of the fic, plotwise? but honestly it's really hard to say lol. i've got 2 more story arcs to cover in part 3 (plus finishing the current one), and then part 4 is gonna have like...2 or 3 story arcs as well, plus an epilogue. so it just depends on how long it takes me to cover all that ground!

and yeah i'm having a lot of fun writing!! i know what u mean abt the whole "ugh writing amirite" bit that writers do lol and i'm sure i do it sometimes too...i mean i think tone varies a lot and many people who complain about writing still really enjoy the activity, but i do think there is sometimes this self-flagellating tendency amongst some writers to act like writing is meant to be this strenuous, emotionally draining activity like ur...idk sisyphus w the stone or something, and if you're writing something 'easy' or 'fun' you're somehow a lower caliber of writer than those who Nobly Suffer for their art, etc...which i think is dumb lol. suffering doesn't inherently make art any better or more noble

& thank u 4 the well-wishes w moving!! i'm mostly nervous about getting to my flight on time lol i have to go into work the literal day before i leave and then catch a train across the country at 5am the next morning 2 get 2 the airport...not going 2 be fun so i'll take all the well-wishes i can get !!

sorry 2 hear u can't find marx in ur native language :( it's hard enough 4 me 2 understand reading in my first language i cannot imagine trying 2 parse it in a second language...maybe it might be easier 2 find one of his (or engels') shorter texts 2 read? capital is a monster but i started off with a few shorter pieces ('socialism: utopian and scientific', 'principles of communism', 'wage labour and capital,' 'value price and profit') which i found helpful! also there are lots of secondary resources of other people breaking down + explaining marx's work; maybe there's a good source in your native language that could give a summary/overview of capital? there's no one right way 2 learn, it's just abt finding what works best for u!!

iced drink supremacy 4ever truly <3 me myself & i we can only enjoy a hot beverage if it's very cold outside...otherwise i am simply thinking well why would i do that 2 myself... & thank u!! happy 2 hear u like the lines!! v happy w them v proud <3 & also appreciate the well-wishes re: weather i cannot relate 2 the hot-weather preference i much prefer cold...or at least i used to i grew up in a relatively cold climate but then i moved south 4 university so at this point i'm going on 6 years of living in what is categorized as a "humid subtropical climate" & i think my winter tolerance has been all but destroyed it hardly ever drops below freezing...but hot&humid weather is still my least favorite i think i would prefer icy-cold winter + mild summer but i will be actually putting that theory 2 the test this year so!! who knows maybe my hubris will be my downfall...

& of course!! u are welcome 2 stop by + chat anytime...in my heart we are drinking iced beverages 2gether <3 also as requested here is a snippet from ch 14:

“Don’t,” he tells her, firmly, “Don’t say that. I don’t—want you involved. If they ever did anything to hurt you…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” She stares at him, eyes ablaze. “And how do you think I feel? Knowing that they only pick on you because—” her voice falters, cracking, “Because you’re with me?” Her lip is trembling again, tears threatening to spill over from her eyes. Sirius shakes his head, helplessly, at a loss for what to do.