#i ideologically reject thinking this much about work not at work & yet here i am: thinking about work So Hard. losercore

[girderednerve]

apologies dear friends i continue to be: a grouchy old man, obsessed with libraries

my new job is fine objectively like there is nothing wrong with it but my boss is very "do storytime, do more storytime, we must schedule storytime," and does not really listen to anything i say, such as 'i would like to do less early literacy programming so that i have some time to do programs for elementary & early middle schoolers,' or 'please schedule me on the youth desk instead of giving me nothing but unstructured office time, leaving me isolated & uninvolved in the day-to-day operations of the library, with which i need to rapidly develop familiarity,' or 'our desk schedule actually should not be rigidly set a month in advance, because we need to be flexible & can work out desk coverage on a department level,' or 'you actually do need to have a clear & specific plan for emergencies, including severe patron issues, & this plan should be communicated to all staff instead of vaguely stashed four folders deep in the shared drive'. (actually when i repeatedly pressed for clarity on who is in charge at any given time she posted an updated chain-of-command document which listed, for some reason, me? as third in line in case of emergency? which is just bugfuck)

it feels very frustrating & i know that many of these problems will resolve themselves as i begin to actually do programs—i haven't been able to because all programming at this library must have at least 2 weeks' advance notice, and i came onboard right after thanksgiving/needed time to get my bearings at least a little—so we can get some cute kid pictures to placate the board & build more of a sense of what is needed. but i still don't really know how to pull reports so i can't weed, i only just got ordering credentials this week & have had to find $2k of books to add to a library collection with which i am largely unfamiliar & for which i have absolutely zero circulation numbers, & nobody has actually given me an up-to-date budget (i am meant to guess, i suppose?). it feels kind of like a slow ongoing disaster; i know this feeling is partially because i have 2 hours' round-trip commute to worry & stew & so on, but i also am just like. girl you are a bad manager. you have persistent staff issues because you are not good at managing people. every meeting you are in is worse because you are in it. you cannot handle interpersonal tensions by having your assistant make friendly 'reminders' to all staff which are obviously about a single person, that never works. i have really strong feelings about management for a person who does not want to be in management! should probably try to walk that one off!

i cornered the adult services/sysadmin librarian today to talk to him about some stub ideas i have for kid programs about 'learning to code,' because we have (apparently) gotten lots of requests for this kind of thing, & basically everything on offer is just buzzwordy bullshit like 'make a bracelet that spells your kid's name in binary using different color beads!' or 'buy this expensive piece of edtech which will be unsupported in six months & anyway only introduces kids to our very closed environment!' or 'just let them spend some time on the computer, so their elastic little brains can pick up digital literacy skills by exposure :)'. so i had some ideas which seemed less like, um, nonsense, but i don't actually know how to code (am stupid) so i wanted to run them past him to get a sense of whether there was any real content there. i want to build a little model transistor & talk about why computers use binary. i want to use a makey makey to have the kids construct a sort of human circuit by holding hands, so we can model a logic gate. i want to write an if-then chart together & roll dice to determine which dance moves we do (cf. a ucla comp sci prof's exercises with her four-year-old). i want to use a makey makey to make a simple morse code transmitter so we can talk about encryption & transmission. i want to make an escape room so we can practice some very basic math & simple decryption (& also persistence!). i want to have tweens play scaled-down capture the flag to think about security. my boss just wants me to do three storytimes a week into infinity

anyway i am still marinating on my computer skills for kids concepts (it's mostly buzzwordy bullshit! even the stuff i want to do is kind of bullshit, lol) & plotting my wind tunnel/paper airplane prototyping program & figuring out when i can schedule my middle grade graphic novel book club. i am trying to figure out how this job might be doable. maybe someday i will want to go to work. america autem delenda est

[grison-in-space]

Hi! Just wanted to say, re:veganism discourse: Excellent Opinions, Great Delivery, Immaculate Vibes 👍 have a great day :)

cheers, ty! it is honestly sort of surprising to me that folks are reading along--as I said to someone else in DMs, I kind of figured that response was mostly something I was putting together in my own head, so I'm pleasantly surprised it's resonating with other people.

I am also just. :| not thrilled to have to be typing up all these "and here's how caring about animal welfare can radicalize you down all these shitty pathways if you add X and Y and Z" because at the end of the day I do think all species are worthy of basic respect; at the end of the day I do think there's nothing fundamentally better about me as a human than any other species. At the end of the day it actually matters a lot to me that my research mice are kept with as much enrichment as I can give them and that their lives and bodies and effort are honored and used wisely. It matters to me that the dogs I teach and the people I teach to train their dogs are learning with minimum stress and maximal confidence. These are all really important planks of my personal code of ethics!

It sucks to feel like I need to sit down and enumerate all the reasons that I think this other perspective of people who start in the same place I do--animals are neat individuals who encompass both the alien and the familiar, which share our lives in a multitude of ways--has developed in such a way that I think it encourages a really toxic way of relating both to animals and ourselves. In general I prefer to focus on places where I can agree with other folks, even if their opinions are different from mine. Someone in the notes brought up "struggle sessions," which are kind of the epitome of toxicity within the left: good values and a desire to help one another get so channeled through perfectionism and backbiting that you wind up with people gathering to literally torture and destroy each other. (Not just in China, either; it keeps happening, cf. Synanon in the US and the dissolution of the Japanese United Red Army.) That's not the kind of way I want to interact with people I'm supposed to be working together with.

So I try not to do that shit too much. I think about the places where people who have values just like mine go down rabbit holes and wind up in bad places, and I try and build barriers so I don't get burned out and angry and dissolve in a puff of flame. (I'm not directly engaging further with this anon for that reason, actually.) But just--aaaaaaaaauuuughhh, ARAs really irritate me because I can see where the roots are, and yet the entire ideology means that there essentially can't be listening. You can see that in the way I'm sitting here going "No, I know what your ideas are, here's why I have rejected them," and still I am getting exhortations to just listen and understand about ARA ideology. No. I did that, the last time there were protests about it in my workplace I went ahead and read the actual detailed IACUC reports released by FOIA that the protestors were shouting about, and bluntly it was a) not convincing and b) exactly the same appeals to emotional knee-jerk reactions and emotional flooding that I decried yesterday. Twenty years I have been checking my responses to these people, and it's never anything different.

I don't think that removing emotion totally from ethics and morals is wise or even possible--we use emotion for decisionmaking and encoding our values, after all, a person without emotion literally cannot decide things--but I do not like or tolerate subcultures that won't leave space to sit, think, and let the first knee-jerk rush of gut response die down. Sometimes, often, I do decide that my gut reaction is right! But I need the space to sit the fuck down and think about it, and if you take that to an ARA space you will mostly get flooded with more emotionally reactive imagery until you agree or leave. And that is coercive.

[venusgirl204]

I just watched the movie "Prom Pact" and it's now that I realize that there are girls who haven't lived their teenage lives. They spent half working like crazy, forgetting themselves to satisfy parents who weren't even present in the most difficult moments of their lives and the other half getting upset over affairs of the heart. because they tried to fill this void of unhappiness and in the end they ended up with a mental health lower than the earth, a broken heart and a lost brain because the latter had decreed that in the absence of the love of one of the parents (for my part of the father) these people would be their lifeline; their inking. I'm one of those girls. I stopped living altogether and I only realize it now. I'm 19 and I have no idea what to do with my life. I lived my whole life in order to satisfy those around me by being the perfect model girl who made no mistakes that I ended up no longer knowing who I really was. I was the best in my class, adored by the teachers and now, in the first year of college, I'm no longer able to achieve anything, I don't feel happy; Quite simply, I don't recognize myself, I have a series of defeats, I'm exhausted even though I haven't even finished the year, I would like to give up but that's not how it works. I am a woman of color I am forced to do twice as much to prove my worth especially in a country with patriarchal ideologies and cultures. I would like to leave this country but where I go my skin will not change; It's not that I'm not proud of my origins but I don't agree with his thoughts. Sometimes we want to go far, very far; in a place where we could express ourselves without fear, a place where people won't give you looks because we don't follow what others are doing or wearing. I know very well that life is not all beautiful and rosy but sometimes we suffocate. here we want to keep our cultures but yet we have forgotten everything about our past and we have become so closed-minded, especially in everything that affects women. we can no longer wear what we want without it directly seeming provocative, we apparently do no honor to our dear country; we cannot express ourselves as we wish if we do so either we are contemptuous or insolent; we are forced to put a label on ourselves that does not suit us. I'm tired of seeing that until today many things affecting women have not evolved and have completely regressed but I know that complaining is not the solution but oh how much I would like to scream , let out that anger and be heard or take your clicks and clacks and finally leave and be yourself; but if we don't start now at the root itself elsewhere it won't work. we have to get back to our lives now, right here. Getting it into your head that in another country things will change is false; change must first start with yourself. Lately I've been thinking a lot about how I live my life, thinking about how I let my emotions dictate my choices, how I lived in denial just out of fear of feeling rejected because I didn't. I wasn't what people would like me to be and I don't want to be this girl anymore! I don't like this girl I see in the mirror; It's not me, it's not you! Take back control of your life and as for your studies or jobs, if this year it doesn't work out ok it's not the end of the world you will evolve at your own pace. It's normal to fail, it's part of the process, we have to accept it and stop stressing and worrying.

and above all don't forget, raise your head, princess, your crown could fall :)

[dykeotomy]

How do you feel about famous, some might say foundational, radical feminist thinkers, such as Andrea Dworkin and Catharine MacKinnon, both of whom reject the notion of discrete biological sex and who feel that trans women are both true women and provide valuable perspectives in the feminist movement? Why should your view that radical feminism and female liberation are inherently trans exclusive be given any more weight than their opposing views on the matter?

one quote from monique wittig has stuck out to me ever since i first read it: "...for there is no sex. there is but sex that is oppressed and sex that oppresses. it is the oppression that creates sex and not the contrary." (From 'One is not born a woman').

wittig was interesting, to say the least. in this essay she also compared women's oppression to that of enslaved black people multiple times, which ignores black women's realities and is just super misinformed. however, her main point is that womanhood is a class rather than a biological predetermination.

andrea dworkin said that things like lab-created babies, HRT, and transsexuality help create new boundaries and categories for how we think about sex. i honestly disagree with her, and this is where i can also take the time to say that it is okay and good to not blindly agree with every theorist you read.

i bring up wittig and dworkin to make this point: sex, the way i see it, is a biological reality that undeniably exists. male and female sexes have been observed in countless other species. this debate of gender identity and the denial of sexual dimorphism exists only in humans, because we have the ability to think. thinking gives us the ability to create stereotypes, oppression, and discomfort with our sex. gender abolition, aka the destruction of the boxes created to classify sex, would, in my opinion, fix this entire argument. for sex would still exist in a world without gender, but there would be no need to argue about "who is truly a woman" or "what is a woman."

i think that even wittig and dworkin's POVs here are leading to the same thing that i am talking about: gender abolition. we may have slightly (very slightly!) different opinions on how to achieve it, but the end goal is the same, and i respect their views. i can't speak much for catharine mackinnon since i haven't read much of her work yet.

i think you are also misunderstanding my position on trans issues. i have problems with modern trans activism and modern gender ideology for promoting individualism, postmodernism, denial of sexuality, and consumerism/medical treatments without being fully informed on the consequences (and how medical transitioning is encouraged in minors within trans activism). i have no problems with dysphoric people as a whole, nor do i have any problems with grown adults who have made the informed decision to undergo transitioning. i have a lot of empathy for these people.

what i do not have empathy for is people who do not undergo any sort of transition at all (nor do they plan to), and say that just calling themselves a different gender changes their material reality. this is a problem i mainly have with nonbinary people, especially the type that go around saying their heterosexual relationships are gay because they identify as nonbinary. this also goes the same for the absolute hoards of teens i've seen calling themselves "gay trans men" with no intention to transition or even try to pass as men. i find it insulting.

my opinion floats somewhere in the realm of thinking about biology, presentation, identity, and societal roles as things that can be contradictory. when i say women should be able to dress however they want and act however they want and still be women, many people say "i agree! which is why trans women should also be able to do that!" in theory--yes. trans women are people and people should be able to do that. but many TRAs expand on this point to mean "trans women should be able to dress stereotypically male, not change their body at all, not change any of their mannerisms, be viewed completely as male in society, and still be women." i disagree. we can work to abolish stereotypes while also acknowledging the difference between gender nonconformity and gender conformity in "cis" vs trans people.

i more or less agree with chimamanda ngozi adichie's view: trans women are trans women. it is silly to pretend that they are in the same class of people as biological women, and it is silly to pretend that they are viewed as 100% men by all of society. adichie highlighted the fact that in order to address society's treatment of women and trans women, we need to acknowledge the fundamental difference between the two.

[hamliet]

Dabi’s Missing Heart

So I’ve been seeing two main responses to Dabi’s character as portrayed in BNHA 292, both of which I feel touch on a very surface understanding of his character and role in the story despite seeming like opposite takes.  

Take #1: 

Dabi is an unfeeling monster created to show the redeemability of Shigaraki and Enji in contrast with his true eeeevil villainy! He will never be redeemed! 

Take #2: 

Dabi is a sweet softy who did nothing wrong! He will never be redeemed because of this chapter which is so out-of-character! 

Note how they both have the same endpoint. I’m not actually gonna address the redemption question much because I can’t fathom what this panel foreshadows if not Touya’s salvation (alive): 

I’m not looking to debate this either; I’m just putting it here because I know it’ll come up if I don’t.

Instead, I wanna address Dabi’s character. He’s my favorite, and I’ve been asked a few different times whether I enjoy him as a villain or as an uwu poor baby, and my answer is always both. 

Dabi is a villain. This chapter’s rampage is, in my opinion, not remotely out of character for him. But neither is it the summation of his character, and he surely is not meant to make Enji look good by comparison. 

So, who is Dabi? 

Dabi is kind of a flaming jerk, and that’s why I like him. He’s an abuse victim who gets to be angry and crass and sharp. He pushes people away because he doesn’t want to open up to them and get burned (heh). He’s just like Shouto in that, except with a dose of murder. 

Believe it or not, this is a very realistic response to abuse, and very common too. It’s good to see that representation. If the writing was indeed just “he’s bad get rid of him,” well, that would of course be a terrible representation. But seeing a mean victim get redeemed? Now that’s some good sh*t I’m here for. 

If you want a sweethearted, misunderstood soft victim, there is one in MHA, and that’s Shigaraki. Dabi is not these things, but that does not mean he’s not a victim or that he’s somehow an unfeeling monster.

You see, Shigaraki is a heart character. Dabi’s the mind. (Heart and mind characters are a literary pattern that is utilized in literature across the globe; it’s not an eastern/western cultural thing. It has its roots in alchemy.) The problem is that you can’t have a heart without a mind nor a mind without a heart. If you lack one, you’re missing half the picture, and you won’t accomplish anything. 

We see this with Shigaraki in his quest to look for ideals, something to believe in, purpose to justify/enable acting on his feelings/emotions. 

Dabi, in contrast, has conviction and ideals, but eschews any kind of personal connection and care. 

So, both Shigaraki and Dabi struggle to unite heart and mind--but they need to do precisely this. 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki expressly envisions both Dabi and Himiko when musing on what his purpose is. 

Yet Shigaraki is able to unite more easily with Himiko as opposed to Dabi because Himiko is also a heart character. She claims to be motivated by extreme empathy that warps around to become a lack thereof (wanting to be who she loves).

Shigaraki’s motivations are basically revenge for hero society not saving him--which encompasses both a deep internal and external (societal) need for empathy and a need for better ideals. Shigaraki needs Himiko and Dabi. They’re a trio, and all of them need each other to grow. But Himiko, being similarly driven expressly by emotions, is easier for Shigaraki to understand and work with. 

The irony is that Dabi is actually a very, very emotional character as well. But what he does (as is typical for a mind character) is repress them, compartmentalize, dissociate. He constantly pushes people away, yet admits privately, to himself, that he’s primarily (and paradoxically) motivated by family. This is emotional, yet Dabi claims he “overthought” and, according to other translations, “snapped” can be actually be read as “went crazy” as a result over overthinking (note: both are mind allusions). 

Dabi repressing who he is--Todoroki Touya--is symbolic of him repressing his emotional side, because again, family and emotions are tied together for his character. Now his identity is acknowledged, and Dabi claims to be losing his mind (again), claims that he can’t feel, and yet is completely consumed by emotions. Like, does anyone think he’s being methodical and calculating this chapter? 

It’s not just negative emotions (rage, hate) that drive Dabi in response to his family. His seeking belonging and emotional connection is present even in a chapter where he tries to murder two members of his family and laughs off the risk to the life of another. 

See, Dabi first asked Shouto to validate his pain:

But like, given the circumstances, of course Shouto doesn’t really respond well. How Shouto responds is this: 

Shouto’s words are triggering. And keep in mind I am not blaming Shouto: he’s in shock and he’s a kid. I’m merely trying to explain how it likely comes across to Dabi. 

You’re crazy. Your feelings don’t matter. You don’t really care about Natsuo! You’re a villain and that’s ALL you are. Not a brother or abuse survivor. Just a villain. 

So, uh, yeah, Dabi then retreats back to being unable to feel, dissociating as has always been his coping mechanism. But that’s not all: Dabi’s been repressing for so long that of course he’s gonna go a little insane in response to the dismissal of everything he’s trying to point out. Why wouldn’t he? His family dismissed his pain back then and now again, and so, without that heart, without those emotions, principle is all Dabi has. This has been present since long before Stain’s ideology came into his life: 

Now, he answers this question of existence through Stain’s ideology.  Purpose is all he has, and to him, Shouto and Best Jeanist are dismissing that too. Why are they dismissing it? Best Jeanist dismisses him for an ideal: the overall good of hero society. Shouto has a mixture of this ideal and also like, genuine shock and pain. 

Back to Dabi. Dabi’s summation of himself and his purpose is incorrect and harmful to himself and others. I’m not excusing him or justifying, just explaining. It’s a tragic reflection of what Endeavor raised both Touya and Shouto to be (and thereby ironic that BJ uses an ideal to dismiss him): 

Instead of being raised to be the symbol of hero society--as Endeavor intended--he exists to destroy it. The root is the same: Dabi assumes he exists for hero society, as a tool. He dehumanizes himself, hence why his quirk physically harms him (which also fits his almost religious zeal for Stain’s ideology). But it is not all Dabi is. He’s not a tool, he’s a person, but to acknowledge he’s a person involves acknowledging his heart/emotional desires, and that gets to my next point.

Dabi’s not a reliable narrator about himself. At all. I’ve written about Dabi and dissociation before. So let’s look at Dabi’s devotion to his ideals, the ideals he puts above people and claims he only cares about... because there are moments where Dabi goes against those ideals. 

For one example, Dabi’s gone against those ideals when he’s allowed his personal need for revenge (an emotional/heart motivation) to overcome his longterm plan. Like, he was fully about to get himself killed here, even though that would likely mean no one would know the corruption of the Todoroki family and hero society, just for the chance to prove to his father that he hurt him. 

In addition, I’ve talked before about how Dabi’s the only character in the entire damn manga to comment that maybe using child soldiers is not okay. While it’s not explicitly stated, it’s reasonable to conclude that Dabi considers the abuse of children in hero training a sin of hero society that ought to be purged (hence, part of his ideals). 

That said, I have also pointed out that Dabi has gone after children in the past when it benefits his mission (Bakugou would like a word). So let’s look at four examples of Dabi and his principles concerning kids--since, after all, he claims to be motivated by heroes who hurt kids. 

Firstly, Dabi’s “save the cat” when he spared Aoyama. 

Why did he spare Aoyama? We can only speculate, but it seems quite likely there are two reasons: 1) hurting Aoyama would not add anything to his overall goal of downing hero society, and 2) a terrified, cowering kid might just have been a teeny bit familiar to Dabi. Here, his ideals--destroying hero society--either take a backseat to a reflection of his personal pain (and)/or his ideal of not abusing kids directly contradicted his ideal of bringing down hero society. But the important part is that in this instance, Dabi chose mercy and the goal of bringing down hero society was jeopardized as a result. 

So then why did he attack Tokoyami, Nejire, and Shouto this arc? Well, Dabi does things he knows are wrong for the sake of accomplishing his overall purpose. He does things he knows hurt himself for this purpose. This isn’t new. If he can’t be acknowledged, can’t exist as a person with emotions, then he at least will ensure he still has a purpose.  

In addition, let’s look at what sets Dabi off in all of these instances. (Again, this isn’t me saying “well actually Dabi’s justified.” He’s not. I’m just pointing to what’s in the text to explain the machinations beyond “bad guy do bad.”)

Dabi tries to reason with Tokoyami, pointing out that Twice was doing essentially what Tokoyami is doing: trying to save his friend(s), but Tokoyami doesn’t listen (also again: not me saying Tokoyami should have listened--realistically, in this situation, it makes sense Tokoyami trusted his mentor!)

Only after his reasoning was rejected did Dabi go to flames mode. He could have just let Tokoyami save Hawks, but instead he really wanted to kill Hawks and that overrode his other principles. Was this just because of his furthering his goal--killing the #2 hero would help destroy hero society--or because of a sense of personal revenge for Twice? That’s open for interpretation (in my opinion, it’s likely a mixture, because again, it tends to intertwine more than Dabi likes to think it does). His principles and/or emotions are brushed aside, and Dabi Does Not Like That. 

Dabi does this again with Shouto this chapter, asking him where he stands on their family issues, and gets brushed aside, and then Shouto goes into his rage mode and Dabi responds. Again, not saying Shouto is rational here or that he should side with Dabi’s murderous plan, but like, his words really don’t come across well to Dabi. 

Dabi going after Shouto after explaining things, asking Shouto for help, and then having his pain dismissed is pretty much a repeat of Tokoyami. When Dabi’s pain is dismissed, he says fine, let’s aim for the highest principle possible: making Stain’s will a reality, and damn any emotional ties. 

Dabi’s obsession with ideals, you might say, is a smokescreen to cover his own pain. Far from feeling nothing, he feels very deeply. (I promise I’m getting to Nejire.) 

So what does this indicate? Well, that Dabi does have a heart and a conscience. But when he lets his heart act, when his heart reaches out, he gets burned. His heart jeopardizes his overall purpose, so he most often dissociates himself from it. But by pretending he doesn’t have a heart, he dehumanizes himself, and he projects that dehumanization onto others (see: seeing Shouto as an extension of Endeavor, when that’s actually the precise image Shouto is trying to shed). 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki has been unconscious during the entire confrontation with Endeavor, nor is it a coincidence that Himiko has been MIA. But, Shigaraki wakes up a bit this chapter not only when hearing Dabi spout about how hero society needs to burn, an ideal/the thing Shigaraki lacks, and through a less important but still-ideal-driven character in Spinner asking him to accomplish his supposed ideal of destruction, but when Dabi saves Shigaraki and Spinner. 

Dabi doesn’t burn Nejire for lols (not that this makes it better because it doesn’t) or even for ideals. He burns her to save Shigaraki and Spinner, because they are his links to full humanity right now. 

(Again, this is also dissociation and projection: Endeavor did this! No, Dabi, you did. You’re perpetuating violence against kids rather than stopping it.)

But anyways, when Dabi calls upon heart, Shigaraki wakes. He lends Gigantomachia and thereby Dabi and the league power. 

Dabi can only grow and actually accomplish anything related to his ideals (fixing hero society) through accepting a heart--even though that will likely mean some painful surgery to shift his ideals to accommodate said heart, because pure ideals don’t leave much room for humanity. He needs to feel to actually change anything, because right now he’s just making things worse (hence, the need for saving and redemption).

I know the League aren’t the protagonists of the serIes, but their complaints aren’t exactly incorrect either (if anything they’re almost a little too valid). But through growing together, Dabi, Shigaraki, and Himiko might actually be able to accomplish something, and get themselves in a place where they can be reached and saved by Shouto, Deku, and Ochaco. Because to be saved, the kids will have to acknowledge the villains’ pain and complaints, and do something about it. 

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-���

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

[dreamii-yume]

@shikigamiuwu said :

“Epel’s have a crush to y/n since they meet them and has confessed there love for y/n many times but y/n reject him. So since it was here birthday he thought of confessing again since he has birthday pass, but Y/n reject him again since he has a crush to Vil or Rook (whoever you want) to Epel’s demise, so Epel’s became so frustrated and angry that he just rape y/n and manipulate him on think y/n is not worthy to be with Vil’s so he can have y/n for himself.”

••••••••••

You, my good bitch, have sent like- four big-brained ideas for not only Epel but SILVER BIRTHDAY CRUMBS and I am ascending. Yume does not deserve this, I–

Warnings : Non-Consensual Touching | Non-Con | Yandere

“I like you.”

If it happened to be your first-time hearing Epel say those three words to you in such an affectionate manner, words that are obviously meant to be taken as a confession, it would’ve been enough to put you through a coma because of shock. You’ll be all flustered and probably stutter like a toddler learning how to speak for the first time, trying to figure out if it was a joke or not, despite the obvious signs. I mean...It was a confession from such a beautiful boy after all and you don’t really consider yourself as someone who can reach that level of beauty so, how can you not panic? If it were the first time, you wouldn’t know what to do, what words you should say, or which feelings you should prioritize. You’d be totally lost!

Except…This was no first time.

How many times had this beautiful boy confessed to you over the course of a few months? You weren’t counting, but you do know that you rejected each one of them respectfully and thoroughly. You didn’t why he kept coming back, he’s a lot more persistent than he lets on. “...How many times are you gonna tell me that?” You can answer him as differently as you want, but Epel would only smile at you and say the same thing every time.

“Until you can say that you like me back.”

The first time was as true as it could get, you were flustered, in the state of disbelief, plenty of eye movements going everywhere, grateful but unsure, and nervous sweat formed on your forehead. He loves you in a romantic sense, but even if he was someone precious to you, you just can’t see him as someone more than a really good friend, family even. “...But I keep telling you, I already like someone else.” It was your only excuse; it was a weak reason but at least it wasn’t a lie, Epel should know it more than anyone. It shuts him up, unable to say anything that could counteract your words and at first glance, it looks like a sign of giving up but soon, he’d just shrug it off like you never said anything in the first place.

It was troublesome, Epel wasn’t forcefully pushing his personal ideologies into you but having to tell you something that you already know is tiring to say the least. You wanted to be polite and even appreciate his honesty, but the more times he confesses, the more desensitized you get. Your rejections went from being apologetic to giving out an exasperated sigh and a shake of your head, just wanting to get it over with. It’ll just be the same anyways, the same confession and the same response, there was no point in sugar coating your words at this point.

“I like you.”

Epel might have thought that he’d get the response he wanted if he confesses to you on his birthday, but you could just shake your head in pity. No, you weren’t going to give in to the fact that it’s his special day and feel obligated to reciprocate his feelings because of it. You’d be lying otherwise, and you’re not about to build a relationship out of lies...Seriously, when is he ever going to stop terrorizing you with all these confessions, you’re starting to feel really bad about yourself here.

“Like I said a million times before, Epel.” You narrowed your eyebrows together with a stern and impeccable voice. “I don’t like you that way, I have someone I already like—“

“It’s Vil-san, right?”You widened your eyes as you looked back at Epel, surprised that he gave up a different answer than the usual. He was wearing the same smile as he does before, but up until now, you just can’t stand the fact on how empty it feels.

“H-How did you—“

“It’s obvious. Anyone could easily guess it if they observed you enough...Especially with how you constantly you look at him.” He said, his clear cerulean eyes burning holes into your soul. This made your cheeks flushed, quickly looking down...Do you really act that weird when it comes to Vil? It’s true that he makes your heart flutter and his presence was just something that you can’t turn a blind eye into but...You always thought that you were keeping your feelings cool and low. “What, don’t tell me you’re not aware of it yourself?”

Epel laughed, his hand covering his mouth like a delicate princess. “You’re really funny, charming even when your making such a dumb face too, hehe...” He said with a tinge of adorable red tainted on his flawless skin, rosy cheeks that you could only ever wish in your dream to have. You gulped as he looked back at you, staring straight into your unsettled eyes, making your body tense without knowing the actual reason as to why. “...But that’s only because I really like you that I’m willing to accept any of your bad characteristics. What do you think will I think if I were a normal person? If I were Vil-san?”

Your mouth closed and open multiple times, trying to find the words you want to say. Somehow, you began to piece together what he wanted to say and yet, you couldn’t actually stop him from saying it out loud. You knew it yourself; you didn’t need someone to pressure you into admitting something you already knew. Was Epel this much of a shrewd person before? Regardless, his pink polished lips twisted into a chilling smile.

“I’d think you’re disgusting.”

“You think you’re so smooth, following him around and eavesdropping every time he opens his mouth to talk just to hear his voice. You’re probably the type to steal some stuff from him too, it’s creepy!” Epel said, walking over to you as you kept your head held down, ashamed to be called out like this. “That makes you no different from a crazed fan, a stalker. Vil-san already gets plenty of those, he doesn’t need another one.”

You gasped as Epel grasped your chin, his eyes remaining as dark and cruel as you remembered them before, only that this time, he was no longer smiling. “…That’s why it’s disgusting. That’s not the kind of beauty Vil-san is looking for.” He said as you tried backing away, only for him to keep on stepping forward to stay close to you. “He’ll never acknowledge someone like you.”

You yelped as Epel suddenly pushed your shoulders down, tackling you down to the ground. Grunting, you landed in a not-so gentle manner with his beautiful face hovering above you. “...But I do.” He added, a small smile reappeared in his face, it was more like a pity smile if anything else.

You were getting scared, there was fear in your eyes alone as you try to search for your way out of this situation. Epel has a small structure despite being growing man himself, the different in size between the two of you are barely even noticeable! But with that cold, intimidating gaze, it feels as if you were forced to shrunk down beneath him. “E-Epel—“ Your voice calling out his name only became an encouragement for him to move his hands freely around your body. Even when you widened your eyes as he suddenly lifted up your shirt to expose your chest.

“W-Wait— no!” You can protest all you want, but even struggling against him as a fit resilience did nothing to reach conscience. Your breath was shaking as he merely swayed your flinging arms away, already weakened by your own will, and worked his way into freeing your mounds to be groped. His hand reached the underneath the skirt that you were wearing for his party and wasted no time in reaching for your underwear. Quavering lips turned into gasps of panic as he makes its way down to your erogenous zones, his nimble fingers able to send pleasures down your body. It didn’t take too long before the realization came to you, just how serious this is, that tears began to well up in your eyes.

He took no mind to it though, you plead and beg but you were met with cold, uncaring eyes as you felt a finger sliding in pass your folds. The way you squeaked like a mouse as he bit on your breast too, it was all too insignificant to really reach his ears at all…Looking deeper in the depths of those seemingly gentle eyes, it slowly occurred to you the emotions that he was hiding underneath there. Something that you’ve never noticed until now, or something that you never really bothered to look into, even if it was just for a split second.

All this time, Epel...was angry.

“S-Stop!” As if yelling out in a demanding voice can stop him, it only made him growl in irritation as he thrusted yet another finger inside you. Your willpower was incredibly weak, your stomach was already forming a knot ready to burst out any moment just by his fingers alone. With a scissor-like motion, it’s almost like he knew where to hit you, which places would feel good and would irk you even more, he even dug deeper down your entrance to explore undiscovered places.

An orgasm was inevitable, he was surprisingly skilled with his hands and your body wasn’t able to take all of that pleasure all at once and bursts right then and there. The toll on your body it took had you writhing on the ground, sobbing at the light-headed feeling spreading inside your brain. Epel seemed satisfied though, pulling out his fingers completely to marvel at how soaked you’ve made his fingers to be. “…You’re amazing.” He said, smiling down at you as he began to shuffle in between your legs, not even letting you rest for even a minute. “This is why I like you so much.”

“Please, stop...! W-Why…Why are you doing this…!?”

He leans in, wiping the tears off your cheek as he shook his head stubbornly. “Do you still…not understand?” He said, that chilling smile on his face was making it all the more terrifying for you as he comes and undo his pants. It’s not about whether or not you understood his motive here because you already had way too much time to do that, you were just in a state of disbelief that you’re just…doing anything you can to call off this reality your experiencing at this moment. “I said it over and over again, didn’t I?”

“I like you.”

Epel then chuckled, before shaking his head as if to correct himself from his own wording. “…No, maybe that’s why you couldn't understand.” He said, his smile becoming wider and wider. “Because it’s love.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

[azrielsribbon]

!!! A COURT OF SILVER FLAME SPOILERS !!!

Alternatively, Asli finished the book in like six hours and has many, many thoughts.

ON THE TOPIC OF NESTA, SOME CASSIAN AND NESSIAN AS A WHOLE.

holy shit. this is a lot.

She has grown so much, and I mean that by the little things.

I love that sjm didn’t make it so she was addicted to the wine and sex

Okay I understand Nesta was frustrating sometimes because she really was stubborn but some of the shit Cassian said was really out of line. Especially when he screamed that no one like fucking liked her.

Cassian was down so bad this entire book and I knew that the moment he said he hadn’t bed a female in two years. He was STARVINGGG

Her determination in getting down those stairs, I probably wouldve tested myself down a window or something.

I liked how she bonded with the House. It was a refreshing, different take on loneliness and finding a friend.

The House and how it looked after her. It was the biggest thing in her journey.

One theme I see in Nesta a lot is self sabotage, especially when it means the safety of others. She’s ready to throw herself in front of them.

Her banter with Cassian was really nice to read.

WHEN SHE MENTIONED HAVING A THREESOME TWICE I DIED

Cassian and his backstory was rip. It was really sad thinking about how little kid Cass really regretted some of the things that even he couldn’t control.

sjm did not disappoint with inner thoughts. Those were really refreshing.

She wasn’t vividly jealous or furious at Mor and Cassian’s friendship and I really liked that take.

Cassian’s silent jealously when Helion tries to flirt with Nesta and she dodged it LMAOOO

When Cassian kisses her in front of their family to help her get out of the map

Her silent bond with Az! That kept me going honestly. He was a sly bastard sometimes.

Sometimes I really questioned somethings, like those fast smut scenes but that’s just my preference.

Her marching down to Amren’s after she finds out they voted against her having the weapons she Made

Not to mention how she told Feyre about the baby and the labor risk out of anger, that really hurt both of them and me.

When she stayed silent during her punishment hike with Cassian. Each thought tore me apart.

When he warned her about falling and she was glad he didn’t see the expression on her face. How she didn’t mind if she fell down and how it would better.

When she cried after all those days of silence and finally told him how she felt underneath all that.

He softened up fast too and blamed himself for not realizing all this time why she hated the fire.

Can we talk about that dancing scene with Eris? And how Cassian was secretly exploding on the side as he remembered her mother wanted her to marry a Prince just like Eris.

WHEN ERIS ASKED RHYS WHAT HE WANTED IN EXCHANGE FOR NESTA TO BE HIS BRIDE AFTER LIKE A COUPLE DANCED LMAOO

The Solstice scene had my heart. The gift Az got Nesta and how she hugged him after he told her about it. How Cassian smiled at the sight.

HOW CASS GOT HER A LITTLE MUSIC BOX RECORDED WITH THE MUSIC FROM THE BALLROOM AND HOW HE ASKED THE MUSICIANS TO PERFORM IT FOR HIM AFTER EVERYONE LEFT SO HE COULD GET IT FOR HERRRR

They really kept shit away from each other till it exploded in an argument and that’s a reoccurring theme with this book couple.

WHAT MADE ME SO FRUSTRATED WAS HOW HE WANTED TO STAY IN HER BED AFTER SEX AND SHE WANTED TO CUDDLE BUT THEY DIDNT SAY ANYTHING AND ASSUMED THE OTHER DIDNT WANT IT

The topic of mates was RUSHED. Like I mean really rushed. First they argue, he says shackled and then the next time they get to speak (after the forced Blood Rite and labor scene) they accept it? I dont know, it didn’t sit with me.

I wish Nesta would elaborate on why she didn’t believe in Mates even more and Cassian would actually listen for once. Again, rushed.

The ending was fast paced in my opinion. We could’ve really had more to go off of, I needed more domestic Nessian.

ON THE TOPIC OF NESTA, GWYN, EMERIE

I am obsessed with Gwyn, Emerie and their friendship with Nesta.

I love how Gwyn and Nesta started, both gritting their teeth and still appreciating that aspect of each other.

How Nesta raced to help her with a book even when their first encounter wasn’t the friendliest.

Gwyn being persistent in paying back her small debt. I love her.

When Gwyn applied to defense lessons after Nesta defended them from the scholar priestess.

Emerie, my homegirl. I love her to death. The way she easily befriends Nesta, how Nesta stands up for her when her cousin comes to bother her.

I don’t know if it was just me, but Emerie and Mor might possibly be something. Either good friends or interested lovers.

THE WAY EMERIE BONDED OVER SMUTTY NOVELS WITH THE OTHER GIRLS AND LET THEM BORROW HER STUFFFFFF

Gwyn helping Nesta with her research on Valkyries. Muah.

Gwyn and Az, I feel like something might happen here and if it does, I do not want any Elriel drama getting dragged in, MY GIRL GWYN HAS BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH OKAY

Gwyn thinking she doesn’t deserve the purity jewel the other priestesses wear and her backstory honestly just broke me. She endured so much.

Emerie and everything she lost. Her mother, her brother, her wings and any dreams she had of flying. How she distracts herself with work and gardening to keep that off her mind.

The way the girls all developed inside jokes, jokingly hanged up on Cassian at training and always had Nesta’s back.

The way they were dedicated to each other even during the Rite when they couldve let one another behind and won.

HER SISTERSSS I CRIED I WOULD DIE FOR THIS MF TRIOOOO

ON THE TOPIC OF THE INNER CIRCLE + THE ARCHERON PARENTS

Fey-ruh was pregoooo she and Rhys raw dogged it

I felt really really bad when no one fucking told her she would die because the baby had wings and she wasn’t fit to give birth like that. Like. What.

Can we talk about how they fucked when Feyre was in her Illyrian form and didn’t think the thing through?

Rhys, I can’t stand the guy. First he wants to make a bargain with his mate that they die together and then he wants to keep it from her that she can die when giving birth to their kid.

I think what pissed me off the most was when he was trying to help Cassian get Nesta out of a nightmare/power “episode” and had to experience what she did with the Cauldron and seeing Elain and Cassian hurt. He said he knew she was feeling something but seeing and feeling it yourself was different. Yeah, what else did you think smartass.

Rhys has a habit of keeping important shit secret, Amren is no better either. I think that’s what pissed me off the most. They sometimes kept the too important shit away.

As much as Nesta grew, so did Feyre. They both developed pretty good in my mind, I don’t hate her as much as I despise Rhys sometimes. All and all I love how she and Nesta ended up.

Amren....I get her point about Nesta using and abusing their friendship. At the same time, sometimes she was too harsh.

Elain, darling old cottage core aesthetic Elain. I found her to be a little insufferable sometimes. How she showed up unexpectedly at the Library to talk to Nesta and they got into an argument was funny to me since Nesta pulled out some stuff on her.

ELAIN THANKING NESTA AND SAYING FINALLY AFTER SHE TELLS HER TO “OH FUCK OFF” AT THE SOLSTICE PARTY WAS SO RANDOM

Elain and Lucien is some fucked up shit. I understand how she doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that they’re mates and all that but you can atleast thank the guy when he gives you a gift on Solstice.

I feel bad for Lucien because as sweet as Elain might show to be, she’s really hurting him and could just reject him if she really doesn’t want him.

AZ AZ AZ I LOVE HIM AND HIS SLY MOMENTS

Az when he cockblocks is the best thing. Do it more often.

Az and Nesta’s bond is something I want to see more, as well as how she literally thought about a threesome with him and Cassian.

Morriiiiigan. Everyone mentions her beauty and how she’s like the sun walking and I admire that. She wasn’t as annoying as I thought she’d be on the topic of Nesta and Cassian being an item.

She also wasn’t in the book as much which made sense since she was in Vallahan. I did like how she accepted Nessian towards the end.

The long awaited Mrs Archeron. Some of my theories about her proved true! About how she groomed her daughters into marriage ideologies at the worst age. 12 and 11? What the fuck?

The way she called Elain a pretty thing with no ambition at 11, no wonder Nesta and Elain have no proper knowledge of survival like Feyre did. She was set on making sure Nesta married someone who would treat her well, Elain married someone rich since her beauty was beyond all three of them.

Literally Mrs Archeron was not okay LMAOOO why are you telling your daughters this when they haven’t even bled yet damn CHILL

I felt bad since she didn’t care for Feyre and only their father doted on Elain and Feyre. Nesta was kept all to her mother to feed off Mrs Archeron’s narcissism.

Not to mention she died a year later

I found it funny Elain mentioned how at 15, Nesta even had their dad fearing her. Like it’s your daughter, wdym you fear her

The backstory on how Nesta treated him and how she feels now looking back. It was saddening and I unfortunately know the regret of not doing somethings. It must eat her alive.

I enjoyed reading this book, even if I wasn’t content with the ending. I tabbed a LOT of things so you’ll probably catch me editing and adding more to this in the morning. Thank you for reading all the way down here! 🤍

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

Holy shit.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/aug/03/define-what-a-woman-is-organise-politically-suzanne-moore?CMP=Share_iOSApp_Other

‘What is a woman?” This was the question asked of the Lib Dem leadership hopeful Layla Moran late last month, on the radio programme Political Thinking with Nick Robinson. “You talked of giving straight answers to straight questions,” said Robinson. “Here’s a nice one for you, philosophical: what is a woman?”

There was a pause, before an answer that probably wasn’t as direct as Robinson had hoped. “Well,” said Moran, “a woman is a gender, it is a way to self-identify and there are lots of genders. There is male and that is biological. There is female, which is also biological. A woman is a gender identity which is more akin to being a man. Those are the opposites and then there is also non-binary, which is people who don’t identify with either.”

This seemed confusing to me. So being a man is akin to being a woman? How does that work? I asked the same question on Twitter – what is a woman? – and Naomi Wolf, no less, the author of The Beauty Myth and Vagina: A New Biography, answered that a woman is anyone who wants to be one. It is a personal choice. “Many men and trans people have thanked me for The Beauty Myth,” she wrote. “I didn’t write it only for readers born with uteri.”

The confusion continued on Twitter with a row over a tweet from Piers Morgan, in response to a CNN tweet reading: “Individuals with a cervix are now recommended to start cervical cancers screening at 25.” Morgan replied: “Do you mean women?”, and when Rosie Duffield, MP for Canterbury, liked Morgan’s tweet, she was accused of being a transphobe. Duffield then tweeted: “I’m a ‘transphobe’ for knowing that only women have a cervix...?!” Progressives who presumably want to win back those “red wall” seats called for her sacking.

I am dismayed at the persecution of trans people – and also at the bile directed towards women who are questioning a narrative in which our experience, needs and reality are too often overlooked. Why can’t we use the word “womxn”, someone asked on Twitter. It’s obvious, isn’t it? To erase the word “woman” means we cannot speak of our biology and our experience. Leftwing feminists, me included, see women as a sex class. American “choice feminism” was a disaster; feminism repackaged as capitalist attainment. The backlash is now here, and in some cases it comes in the form of an ideology that overrides the demands of women.

We don’t talk so much now about the terrible violence meted out to women – the appallingly low rate of rape convictions and the huge and growing incidence of domestic violence – because that would be to see women as still oppressed. And there is a popular narrative now that often says we’re not. For some people, victimhood has become the preserve of a tiny percentage of the population – trans and other seriously marginalised communities – who do indeed have a very hard time. But while their difficulties are recognised, women’s difficulties are considered merely the bleatings of privileged females.

If we cannot define what a woman is or name that experience, we cannot organise politically. As the radical feminist Andrea Dworkin once wrote: “Men have the power of naming, a great and sublime power. This power of naming enables men to define experience, to articulate boundaries and values, to designate to each thing its realm and qualities, to determine what can and cannot be expressed to control perception itself.”

For me, the debate around trans issues is not and never has been about toilets or changing rooms. It is about the right of women to define themselves in a system that is afraid we might do just that.

I will happily respect anyone’s pronouns and I ask other people, too, to respect the language that defines my life in a female meat suit. Men are never spoken of as prostate owners, or vehicles for their penises or testicles. I have never yet read a definition of “cis” that I identify with, even though, as a female whose gender expression matches her sex, this is apparently what I am. The fact is, when it comes to my appearance, I started wearing drag – makeup, heels, big hair – as soon as I knew that, in order to use my mind, I would have to appear on the outside entirely different to how I felt on the inside. Gender nonconformity has been an essential part of my life, as it is for so many people, whether this is apparent or not. I always liked the way the Stonewall activist Marsha P Johnson chose to call herself a “street transvestite action revolutionary”. She thought of herself not as a woman but as “a queen”.

All of us are a combination of biology and history, our bodies situated in a time and a place. I neither want to fetishise and essentialise biology nor deny it. It is different for each of us.

It is often argued on Twitter that the struggle for trans rights is the same as the struggle for gay rights. But, crucially, coming out as gay demands nothing from others but equality. There is now a demand from some activists – many of them not trans themselves; many of them men – that the class of women must be renamed.

I reject this. Am I more than a collection of body parts? Am I allowed to talk of my own life? Am I a woman simply out of choice?

What, then, is a woman? These days, I often find it is simply someone who does not agree to let misogynist men speak for us.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Ngl, the Nadia anons and fic have me in a Nadia mood. Can we get a fic where MC and Vivienne aren't dating, but Nadia thought they were and finds out they aren't, so she tries winning over MC, and MC is both wary and slightly charmed, despite the entire Poppy being exasperated, and finally agrees to a date? It could be a follow on from the other fic or it's own thing. (If you receive this ask twice please ignore the 2nd one, tumblr gave a bad request message for the first so idk if you got it)

Pairing with: “Can we have a Nadia stalking mc instead of Vivienne? Getting intrigued by the mc and then wanting her to join her instead“

...

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“I’m a bit confused.”

The voice is firm, perhaps even a bit harsh, and it has Nadia instantly on edge. Were it not for the small, almost imperceptible hint of playfulness, the blond thief would have already brandished her knife. Instead, she just freezes there, wide eyed, letting the voice wash over her and awaken a torrent of feelings she had buried deep within her. Emotions only brought problems, only made her pick all the wrong options. She couldn’t trust something as fickle as that. She knew that. Well. At least she thought she knew that.

Yet here she is, eagerly spinning around after a moment’s hesitation, seeking the owner of that sweet, sweet, harsh voice.

It had only been a month, but Karina seemed to have changed drastically. Gone was the insecure little girl she had been, wrapped in Vivienne’s shadow. Now she stood strong and unflinching just a few meters away, shoulders thrown back in attempt to look taller, brown eyes calculating Nadia’s every movement like a predator. One wrong move, and it was over.

Nadia didn’t want to underestimate a woman like Karina ever again.

“You said you weren’t after Vivienne anymore… but here you are anyway.” Her eyes flickered up and down, her expression softening with a small, unconcerned smile. It didn’t look cocky, nor did it look happy. It was teasing, meant to irritate Nadia to her very core, but she found she couldn’t quite look at it without feeling butterflies rise. It was unfair. Nadia pursed her lips and looked away, and Karina continued. “What am I supposed to think?”

She felt like she had been put under a microscope, left there to be picked apart by the artist.

“It… was a coincidence?” She finally said, voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil of emotions she was experiencing.

Karina hummed. “Yeah, I don’t really believe in coincidences and that only leaves me with plenty of creepy alternatives. You might want to explain yourself.”

“I didn’t know you would come here next.” Nadia forced herself to meet her gaze, half-wishing she could just burn the butterflies in her stomach so she could actually concentrate, half-berating herself for not realizing where her true affections laid sooner. “I had planned to stay away from you – that’s why I decided to come here in the first place.”

“Sure. Awfully close to our next target, too. How convenient.”

Frustration could not begin to convey what Nadia was feeling right now. Hot-headed indignation, barely held at bay by the cold, murky feeling of rejection. Her hands closed into fists, then opened, then closed again in quick motions, as if she were trying to grasp her conflicting feelings and bury them even deeper.

“I didn’t even know you had a target here.” She spat at last, scowling. “Look, I won’t get in between your relationship with Vivienne anymore. I won’t even stay here, if it bothers you so much. I could probably pick the next flight to–”

“My relationship?”

“Yes, your– why are you looking at me like that?” It takes a few seconds. Nadia has never had so many conflicting feelings in her entire life. There’s the bubbly, blissful hope that lifts her spirits and spreads over her whole body like a blanket of pure joy, warm and fuzzy, but there’s also the sinking, bitter sensation of a misunderstanding. Of not reading the room correctly, despite that being Nadia’s forte. “You aren’t dating Vivienne.”

Karina’s smile seems a little less detached, bordering on genuine. “It’s true I had some interest in her at the beginning, but I quickly realized a relationship wasn’t the best choice. Hey, maybe we should start a club or something! God knows there’s enough people interested in Vivienne to get plenty of members.”

“Then… but she didn’t– you were jealous!”

“Yeah, I can’t deny that.” A sheepish shrug. “But in my defense, who wouldn’t be?”

Nadia takes a deep breath. “You were jealous.” She repeats, more to herself than to Karina. She’s trying to make this whole situation make sense. “Of Vivienne…? Because I was giving attention to her.”

A light blush that might be Nadia’s imagination appears on Karina’s face. “I think we might be getting off topic here. You, uh, you said you were going to leave?”

“I was, but there’s no way I’m doing that after this revelation.” After a month of aimlessly swimming through the situation, Nadia finally thinks she might have found her footing. She smirks. “You are interested in me.”

Karina looks her up and down again, wary. “Was. You know, before I found out you are an obsessive asshole.”

“Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. I’ll respect your boundaries.” She takes a few steps closer. Karina seems rooted in place, body angling towards the end of the alleyway they are in, but making no move to leave. “But I can’t let this chance slip me by.”

“Chance? So because you couldn’t get Vivienne, now you are after me?”

“Ah…” Nadia hesitates, all confidence wavering. The other woman narrows her eyes. “No. No, I…” The words were right there. Somehow, they wouldn’t come out.

“You…?

“It’s just. I didn’t– I…” She lets out a small grunt of frustration. “I wasn’t interested in her. I thought I was. Turns out she wasn’t the one that interested me at all.”

“But then… why did you…” A beat, and Karina’s eyes widen. “You were projecting your feelings onto her.”

“Yes. And now that it’s come out into the open that you are also interested-”

“Was. I was interested. Past tense. Nadia, I’m saying no. Can you respect that, please?”

Nadia pursed her lips, feeling her good mood dissipate. This was what had ruined her chances in the past, her near violent approach. She backed the subject of her interest to a corner where they would have no other choice but to pick her, because the alternative was even worse.

That’s not something she wanted for Karina. Whatever this affection was, it felt far more fragile and precious than any of her other obsessions.  Far more real. Worth treasuring. Nadia wasn’t sure she could even call this feeling ‘an obsession’.

She couldn’t force something like this. She didn’t want to.

“I understand.” She said. “And you have every right to say no, but I want you to give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed.” That had been mostly thanks to the sheer number of sleepless nights she had had, just thinking about everything. Her ideology and how it clashed with the Poppy’s, mainly. That was why she had scrapped the video her crew was working on, why she had put on hold the heists they had planned.

She knew she still had a long way to go, but she was willing and raging to go. A change was long overdue.

“Just one chance. I won’t let it go to waste.”

…

“It was creepy enough when it was Vivienne, but I didn’t expect to endure this type of thing again.” Zoe holds up a gift for everyone to see with a small grimace. Jett takes one look at it and whistles in appreciation.

“Those are some quality paints, alright. You’re going to have a field day with those, Kar.”

“Who said I was going to use them?”

“So I can throw them out or-”

“What? No! Zoe, don’t!”

Vivienne smirks from where she is curled up on the couch, amusement crinkling in her eyes. “Now this is a development, thought I can’t say it was unexpected.” The mirth dies down soon enough. To anyone else she’d look composed, detached, but the members of the Poppy know her well enough to detect the hint of worry clouding her expression. “How do you feel about this, Karina? Would you like us to handle it?”

“I can think of a few ways that might be effective.” Leon adds, from the other side of the room, a frown firmly in place.

“She just can’t give up, can she?” Remy huffs. “First Vivienne, now Karina… When do you think you’ll have your turn, Zoe?”

Zoe gives him a dry look. “Never. Not if I can help it. But seriously Kar, what do we do? If I have to see another gift from that woman, I swear-”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

The living room is always alive with noise when the Poppy gathers in it, sharing laughs, the atmosphere light and welcoming. All of that skids to an abrupt stop as soon as Karina has finished talking. Silence reigns so perfectly it becomes deafening, all eyes on her, searching, prodding, as if they were trying to find out when Karina had been replaced by some kind of impostor.

The artist laughs. “Seriously. Just give me at least a week with her. I want to see something.”

“Something?” Nikolai repeats, one of his eyebrows so far up into his hairline Karina is almost expecting it to fall off. “Not that I don’t trust your judgement, but you must remember who we are talking about. One week is plenty of time for her to kill you.”

“One week.” Karina says again, resolute. “That is all I ask.”

The rest of the Poppy sputters in a chaos of half-shouted reasons why this won’t work, and half-muttered inquiries regarding Karina’s sanity. She takes it all in stride, mostly because they aren’t telling her anything new, something she hadn’t considered before making the decision. Curiosity kills the cat, some say, and Karina is definitely curious to see how much Nadia has allegedly changed.

…

“I’m definitely surprised this time.”

Nadia gives her a curious look, her smirk firmly in place. The confidence she exudes is something that had interested Karina from the moment she had first seen the blonde woman, an unhinged storm worth admiring from a distance.

She had certainly mellowed out. There was still a dangerous undertone to her every action, but it was more controlled. Karina wasn’t naive, she knew Nadia could still kill people if she wanted to, probably with no remorse whatsoever, but she had the impression she would at least consider other alternatives before rushing in for the kill. Nadia hadn’t been lying – she had changed.

Or she was a really good actress, but Karina was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I didn’t think you’d have such a drastic change in just one month.”

Blue eyes shimmer with delight. Nadia practically preens.

“I’m full of surprises. You’d better get used to that.”

“Good! That just means I won’t get bored anytime soon.”

“I’ll ensure you don’t.”

The chill of the night makes for an excellent excuse to get closer, not that Nadia really needs it. She moves closer to her in one smooth movement, but Karina catches the look the blonde woman sends her way, making sure she’s not overstepping any boundaries. It’s a sweet gesture, something she wouldn’t have expected from Nadia in the past.

They’re on top of the Eiffel Tower. Leon is somewhere near, out of sight, and Karina can just imagine him staring at them from wherever he is with a concerned frown, ready to intervene at any sign of trouble. But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, Karina stands there, transfixed by the anecdotes Nadia is telling her, eyes tracking her every movement with a shocked wonder she hadn’t felt before. There had been a spark with Vivienne, all those months ago, when the Poppy had recruited her, but nothing like the emotion she feels now. There’s a raging fire somewhere in her soul she had ignored until now, emboldened by Nadia’s smile, by her touch, by her mere presence.

And when the date comes to an end, and she stands inches away, blue eyes searching hers for permission?

Karina can only nod, eyes fluttering shut as Nadia slips one finger under her chin, directing her face up, expression softening as she leans in.

She feels like she is on cloud nine.

[phynali]

Canonization and Fandom Purity Culture

I wrote a 1k-word twitter thread (as proof that I am Not made for Twitter and it’s goddamn 240-character limit) and am pasting it here with edits and updates (it’s now 2k words). 

I have thoughts to share (which I know have been stated more eloquently before by others) about this trend of demanding/obsessing that certain ships become "canon" and how it overlaps with the rise of fandom purity culture.

Under the cut.

Here in 2021 there is a seemingly large and certainly loud and active contingent of online fandoms who desire (or even demand) "canon validation" for a given interpretation of a source material. This is more true with shipping than anywhere else.

First, it is important to note that the trend is not limited to queer ships or to any single fandom. In the past few years I've seen it for Riverdale, Voltron, Supernatural (perhaps most extreme?), The 100, etc., and less recent with the MCU, Sherlock, Teen Wolf, Hawaii 5-0, etc. It is a broad trend across ships, fandoms, and mediums.

So if it is more common for queer ships, it is hardly unique to them. Similarly, pretending that it is about queer representation is a clever misdirect to disguise the fact that it is most often about ships and shipping wars. If you ever need proof of that, consider that a character can be queer without being in a given relationship or reciprocating another character's affections. Thus a call for more/better queer rep itself is very different than a call for specific ships to be made canon.

Also note that when audiences frame it as wanting to recognize a specific *character* as queer, it is almost always in the context of a ship. Litmus test: would making that character queer but having them *explicitly reject* the other half of the ship be seen as a betrayal?

(Note: none or this is to say we shouldn't push for more queer rep and more *quality and well-written* queer rep! Just that that isn't what I'm talking about here, and not what seeking canon validation for a specific interpretation or a specific ship is almost ever about.)

Why does this matter?

the language of representation and social justice should not be co-opted to prop up ship wars

it is reciprocal with a trend toward increasing toxicity in transformative fandom spaces

Number 1 here is self-explanatory (I hope). Let's chat about 2.

Demands for canon validation correlate with a rise in fanpol / fandom purity culture. What is fandom purity culture (and fandom policing)? This toxic mentality is about justifying one's shipping preferences and aiming to be pure (non-problematic) in your fictional appetites regarding romance and sex.

Note that this purity culture is so named as it arises linearly from American Protestantism, conservative puritanical anxiety around thought crimes, and overlaps in many ways with terf ideologies and regressively anti-kink paradigms.

It goes like this: problematic content is "gross" and therefore morally reprehensible. Much like how queer sex/relationships get labelled as "gross" (Other) and thus morally sinful, or how kink gets labelled as "harmful" and thus morally wrong. The Problematic label is applied by fanpol to ships with offset age or power dynamics, complicated histories, and anything they choose to label as "harmful". As such, they would decry my comparison here to queerphobia itself as also being harmful, because their (completely fictional) targets are ~actually~ evil.

(The irony of this is completely lost on them).

This mode of interacting with creative works leaves no room to explore dark or erotic themes or dynamics which may exist in fiction but not healthily in reality. Gothic romance is verboten. Even breathe the word incest and you will be labelled a monster (nevermind Greek tragedy or GoT).

As with most puritanical bullshit, fanpol ideology only applies these beliefs to sex and never to violence/murder/etc, proving what lies at its core. It also demands its American-based values be applied to all fictional periods and places as the One True Moral Standard. It evangelizes – look no further than how these people try to recruit others to their cause, aim to elevate themselves as righteous, and try to persuade (‘save’) others from their degenerate ways of thinking. 

“See the light” they promise “here are our callouts and blog posts to convince you. Decry your past sins of problematic shipping, be baptized by our in-group adulation and welcome, and then go forth and send hate to others until they too see the light.” In many ways “get therapy” by the antis is akin to “I’ll pray for you” by the Christian-right (and ultimately ironic).

(Although it has been pointed out to me that these fans are likely not themselves specifically ex-evangelicals, but rather those who have brushed up with evangelical norms and modes of thinking without specifically being victims of it. In many ways they are more simply conservative Christian in temperament and attitude without necessarily being raised into religion by belief).

What this has to do with canon validation is that these fans look to canon for approval, for Truth. On the one hand, if it is in the canon then it must be good / pure or at least acceptable. The authority (canon) has deemed it thus. It is safe and acceptable to discuss and to enjoy watching or consuming. In this way, validation from canon means a measure of safety from being Bad and Problematic. 

For example, where a GoT fan could discuss Cersei/Jaime's (toxic, interesting) dynamic in depth as it related to the canon, fans who shipped Jon/Sansa (healthy, interesting) were Gross and Bad. The canon as Truth provided a safety net, a launch point. "It's GRRM, not me, who is problematic." It wasn’t okay to ship the problematic bad gross incest ship, but it being in the canon material meant it was open for discussion, for nuance, for “this adds an interesting layer to the story” which is denied to all non-canon ships labelled as problematic.

(Note: there are of course people who have zero interest in watching GoT for a whole slew of very valid reasons, including but not limited to the incest. That’s a different to this trend. A less charged example might be The Umbrella Academy, where a brother canonically is in love with his sister and antis still praise the show, but if you dare to ship any of the potential incest ships then you are the one who is disgusting).

On the other hand, a very interesting alternate (or additional) explanation for this phenomenon was raised to me on twitter. (These ideas aren’t mine originally, but I wholly endorse them as a big part of what is likely going on): Namely, as with authoritarian individuals in general, they see themselves as right and correct, but the canon (which has not yet validated their ship) is not correct, and is in fact problematic, and so they can save the canon from itself.

As mentioned, these fanpol types see their interpretation as Good and Pure. So if they can push (demand, bully) the canon into conforming to their worldview and validating their interpretation, then they have shown the (sinful) creators the light and led them to the righteous path. This only works if the canon allows itself to saved though, otherwise the creators remain Evil for spurning them.

How is this different from fans simply hoping for their ship to be canon?

For a second here, let’s rewind to the 90s (since Whedon has been in the news recently). This “I want it to be canon” thing isn’t 100% new, of course. We saw this trend then for the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but it was different then. At the time, fans who hoped for a ship to be canon might have been cheering for a problematic one to begin with (Buffy/Spike). So shipping was still present, minus vocal fanpol.

(And Buffy fans learned that canon validation...can leave a lot to be desired. A heavy lesson was learned about the ways that fan desires can play out horrifically in canon, and how some things are best left out of the hands of canon-writers).

These days, this is still largely true. Many fans hope for their ships to go canon, as they always have. There are tropes like “will they/won’t they” that TV shows may even be designed around, which a certain narrative anticipation and a very deliberate build up to that.

But while shipping *hopes* occur for many fans, almost all ships fans that *demand* to go canon and obsess over are now the ones deemed as Unproblematic, or as Less Problematic. I’m talking here about the ships that aren’t necessarily an explicit will/won’t they dynamic but do have some canon dynamic that leads them to being shipped, but which the creators aren’t necessarily deliberately teasing and building up a romantic end-game for.

These ships often have fans who are happy to stick to fandom, but there has also been a huge uptick in the portion of fans who are approaching shipping with an explicit lens of “will they go canon?” and “don’t you want them to be canon?” and now even “they have to go canon” and “the canon is wrong if they don’t make this ship canon”, to a final end-point of “if the ship doesn’t go canon, the source material is Wrong and Bad.”

These latter opinions are the one we see more by extreme fans (‘stans’), hardcore shippers, but especially by fanpol-types, the ones who embrace fandom purity culture at least to some extent.

Why them?

In pushing for canon validation, fanpol types seek to elevate their (pure) interpretation of canon. As mentioned above, it’s validation of their authority, a safety-net, and a way to save the canon from itself if only they can bully the canon into validating their right and good interpretation. 

There’s also another reason, which is that canon validation is a tool to bludgeon those seen as problematic. They can use it to denounce other (problematic) ships as Not Being Canon and therefore highlight their own as Right and Good, because it is represented in the True Meaning of the Work.

Canon validation then is a cudgel sought by virtuous crusaders to wield against their unclean enemies. It is an ideological pursuit. It is organised around identity and in groups sometimes as insular as cults.

How does this happen?

Fanpol tend to be younger or more vulnerable fans, susceptible to authoritarian manipulators. As many have highlighted before, authoritarian groups and exclusionary ideologies like terfs are very good at using websites like tumblr to mobilize others around their organizing beliefs. Fanpol tend to feel legitimate discomfort, but instead of taking responsibility for their media engagement, ringleaders stoke and help them direct their discomfort as anger onto others; “I feel ashamed and uncomfortable, and therefore you should be held accountable for my emotions.” Authoritarian communities endorse social dominance orientations, deference to ringleaders, and obedient faith to the principles those ringleaders endorse.

As these fans attach more and more of their identity to a given media (or ship), and derive more and more validation and more of their belongingness needs from this fanpol community, they also become more and more anxious about being excluding from this group. This is because such communities have rigid rules and very conditional bases for social acceptance. Question or "betray" the organizing ideology and be punished or excommunicated. If that is all you have, you are left with nothing. Being labelled problematic then is a social death.

What this means is that these fans cannot accept all interpretations of a media as equally valid: to do so Betrays the ideology. It promises exclusion. And, in line with a perspective around ‘saving’ canon and leading others into the light – forcing and bending the canon to their will is what will make it Good (and therefore acceptable to enjoy, and therefore proof of them as righteous by having saved others). As was also pointed out to me on twitter, endorsement from canon or its creators also satiates that deep need they have for authority figures to approve of them.

Due to all of this, these fans come to obsess over canon validation of their own interpretation. In a way, they have no other option but to do so. They need this validation -- as their weapon, as their authority, as their safety net, as their approval, as their evangelical mission of saviorship.

Canon validation is proof: I am Good. I am Right(eous). I am Safe.

(In many ways, I do ache for some of these people, so wrapped up in toxic communities and mindsets and so afraid to step out of line for fear of swift retribution, policing their own thoughts and art against the encroaching possibility that anything be less than pure. It’s not healthy, it’s never going to be healthy.)

In the end, people are going to write their own stories. You are well within your rights to critique those stories, to hate them, to interpret them how you will, but you can never control their story (it's theirs).

Some final notes:

This trend may be partially to do with queer ships now being *able* to go canon where before so no such expectation would exist. Similarly, social media has made this easier to vocalize. Still, who makes these demands and the underlying reasons are telling. There are also many legitimate critiques of censorship, queerbaiting (nebulous discussions to be had here), and homophobia in media to be had, and which may front specific ships in their critique. But critique is distinct from asking that canon validate one's own interpretation.

[sheep-mc]

As promised from yesterday...

Yesterday following my not-so-brief rant post, I stated that I’d follow up the travesty of that event with a more in-depth analysis and more collected thoughts. That is what awaits you under the cut! Be warned though, there are going to be major spoilers for the event (and possibly things that occur from lesson 20 and prior)

First I’m going to give a summary of the event and how I view it. This is mostly for those of you who haven’t played the event yet, so you can understand why the community is so angry about it. If you’ve already played, feel free to skip the next 3 paragraphs.

It starts out with Lord Diavolo suggesting a party to improve the bonds between the exchange students and the student council. Asmodeus suggests that everyone should dress up - but nothing big, just small angel wings and such. Diavolo shakes his head and says that everyone should go all out, because if you’re going to dress up, you may as well go all the way. Several of the brothers (Mammon, Lucifer, Belphegor) express disdain for this, saying that they don’t want to get dressed up, but Diavolo uses his own magic to put them into outfits anyway. Not just any outfits. Their old Celestial Realm outfits. Simeon then mentions that Michael has given him a gift to give to the brothers, as a thank you for them treating the angels so well. The gift is only for the brothers, not MC, not Diavolo, just the brothers. Simeon aware of the effect the bangles will have on the brothers. He does not tell them this until they’ve put it on. He knows fully well that the bangles will cause them to act in more “righteous ways”. The bangles then react unexpectedly with Diavolo’s magic, causing the outfits and bangles to become irremovable. That is to say, they cannot take them off. It was forced upon them when several of them clearly showed that they did not want to go along with this, and now they cannot undo it. That’s the first issue.

After this, Diavolo still decides that he wants to hold the party, and Simeon agrees. The preparations continue nonetheless. Throughout the event, we speak to the brothers as they’re preparing for the party. Here we’re shown that the brainwashing of the bangles is gradual, not immediate. Mammon is able to resist it slightly at first, claiming that he’s going to cut the clothes off of him. Once he grabs the scissors, his behavior changes. He decides that what he’s doing is dangerous and instead goes to put the scissors away. This action scares Leviathan, who fears that they’re all going to turn out like Mammon and that he doesn’t want that to happen. When we’re alone with Lucifer and Satan, the bangles have only started to affect them, but it hasn’t fully kicked in. They express that they don’t like the situation at all and that they don’t feel like themselves, ending their interactions by telling MC to leave them alone because they don’t want to be seen like this. Speaking to the rest of the brothers, the effects of the bangles have been fully realized. Leviathan has put away all of his obsessions, offering a Ruri-Chan figure to MC because he ”doesn’t need it anymore”. He goes on to say that he was hiding behind anime and manga and that from now on he will work on nurturing his relationships with his brothers and being honest with MC about his feelings. Even if MC rejects him or calls him gross, he doesn’t get upset. This is obviously out of character for our beloved otaku.

The rest of the brothers suffer a similar fate. Beelzebub no longer feels hungry, claiming that instead of feeding himself, he wishes to feed others and see them happy. He says that he wants to be kinder, implying that he wasn’t kind enough before - which is fucking bullshit because holy shit this is Beel we’re talking about are you fucking kidding me you don’t think Beel was kind enough he was literally the nicest of the brothers what the fuck are you on about - ANYWAY. Belphegor goes on to say that he was wasting his life by sleeping it away, and that all of his brothers are good and that he wants to spend more time with them. He doesn’t want to take naps anymore, unless prompted by MC, and he says that he used unfair tactics when trying to win MC’s love. He also says that he won’t be doing that anymore, and is instead going to do things “the fair way”. Asmodeus offers you all of his beauty products, claiming that he was trying too hard to be beautiful before. If you choose to kiss him, he’ll go along with it, but say that he feels like he’s betraying his brothers and being unfair and sneaky. For some reason, I can’t recall much of Mammon’s interaction for the life of me. I remember him saying that he was mean and rude and greedy and shameless before, and how he wants to change to be a better person now, but I don’t remember the second half of the interaction. I just know it was bad. The event ends with the party being held, Diavolo and Simeon smiling and laughing, Solomon and Luke being concerned, and Lucifer overcoming the power of the bangle. Well, that’s what Lucifer says, but I believe he was lying.

Here’s my actual opinions on it:  It was fucked up! I left this bit out of the summary, but all of the brothers (after Lucifer and Satan) express that they don’t want to do anything unless you’re okay with it. They want to be someone good enough that you’d approve of it. They don’t want to upset their brothers. All in all, they’re prioritizing the thoughts and feelings of others over their own. They express hatred for their past selves, condemning their actions and interests as shameful and wrong. Even their most harmless actions. They got rid of every single bit of their own personality in order to “purify” themselves. This ideology is the exact embodiment of toxic positivity and it’s revolting. I would also like to focus more on how all of the brothers (except for Asmodeus and Beelzebub) showed that they didn’t like this idea. for the most part, they were strongly against it. Satan, who according to this event, has never been an angel, says that he doesn’t feel like himself at all. He shows the most fear towards the effects of the bangle and quite frankly it’s just. Disturbing to see someone like Satan so afraid. Lucifer tries to hide his worry, but his thoughts are similar to Satan’s, since he also says that he can’t rest because he doesn’t feel like himself.

Some of you might think that the changes were good or harmless or whatever, and you might have appreciated the fact that they’re trying to change for the better, but realize this: their change was forced. They didn’t do it of their own free will, they didn’t have any experiences that caused them to think or feel this way. It was all forced. They’ve been brainwashed. They are not doing this of their own accord. It’s not them. They are not themselves.

And this is not a side effect of the Celestial Realm or being an angel! If you’ve played through certain cards devilgram story (Belphegor’s “Hatred” or Lucifer’s “Glory Days”) you can see that the brothers are still themselves even though they are angels. They still have their personality and are not completely “holy” or “pure” or “righteous”. This is specifically a result of the bangles. If this had been part of the main story it would have been interesting. It could have been more thought out and well written and had a conclusive ending. So where am I going with this?

I believe that the devs had good intentions but executed them poorly. This is an event, meaning it’s non-canon and not related to the main story. I think that the devs wanted to show how toxic the beliefs of the angels can be, and they did good on that. That was genuinely disturbing to play through. What they’re missing is criticism. If the brother’s had returned to their normal selves and said “what the fuck was that”, then it would have been okay. If they had focused more on how wrong and weird the changes were, and how it’s actually bad, then that would have been a satisfying conclusion. But they didn’t. Well, there was one brother that supposedly returned to his normal self, right? Lucifer.

At the party, Lucifer tells MC that he’s returned to his normal self, but admittedly the clothes still cannot be removed. He shows that he didn’t enjoy the experience, but as he’s watching the rest of his brothers still controlled by the bangles, he...doesn’t do anything. He says that it’s interesting and that they should let it play out a bit more, just to watch them. Now, I am not a Lucifer simp. My MC has copious issues with him. However. This characterization is just PLAIN FUCKING WRONG! WHAT?! What were the devs thinking?! That’s Lucifer! He cares about his brothers above all else in this world! He was strongly against the angel outfit and bangle idea! He said that it made him feel unlike himself! Lucifer has experienced the brainwashing of the bangle first hand! He would never, EVER say something like that when he KNOWS how serious it is. Yes, he is a sadist. Yes, he likes to joke sometimes. But this? He would be way more concerned for them. Which is why I believe he was still under the effects of the bangle. I don’t have a full theory for how much it was affecting him at that point in time, but that will probably come about later.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on the event thus far! It’s possible that the next event will have a callback to this one (considering how this one mentioned TSL: The Musical) but I highly doubt it. I also don’t think that there’s going to be continuation of this in the main story. I doubt we’ll ever get our resolution, but if you want one, I plan on rewriting the entire event on my Wattpad. I’ll announce it when I finish posting it, so feel free to follow for that or just check it out later. My dms should be open and obv you can comment/reblog on this post so if you want to discuss this more, feel free to intract!

[bellablue42]

Myself as a writer and Death of the Author

I’m trying to write a novel, and it’s really hard. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere, I’m on my fifth draft and trying to create a lengthy enough narrative that doesn’t feel like filler. It is difficult, to say the least, and I really admire people with the ability to write quickly and well. 

But there’s a lot about She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named going around again, and it made me think. We all know that she’s not the best person, but she is a writer, and she is a creator, and her works are widespread. And that... causes problems.

Is it ok to consume her work? How much do her opinions reflect in her work, and can we spot it? I have no idea, but here’s my best shot, as an aspiring writer and a high-school literature student.

Please be warned I have no experience, and I’m kind of making this up as I go along, but here we go.

Last year, at the start of the school year, in Literature, my class watched Midnight in Paris. The movie was written and directed by Woody Allen, who is... well-known for all the wrong reasons, namely allegedly assulting seven-year-old Dylan Farrow. One of the girls in my class pointed out this fact, and my teacher nodded and said that we were discussing Death of the Author.

Death of the Author is an interesting topic. It holds that an author’s intentions and background should have no impact on interpreting a text. It is interesting, and it is really bloody hard to do.

Keep in mind that if you pick up a book by a relatively famous author, you will know something about them. If you take Mrs Dalloway, for example, if you’ve ever heard of Virginia Woolf, you will doubtless know that she was a writer and that she committed suicide, even if you know nothing else. The fact that she did commit suicide will influence the way you read Mrs Dalloway.

If you read Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath, for example, you will probably know that Plath was not mentally healthy and committed suicide by sticking her head in an oven. And that will influence the way you read Lady Lazarus. If you read any of Lovecraft’s work, you will come to the conclusion that he is a racist. It’s not hard to figure out.

Death of the Author means separating these facts from the way you interpret a work. It is really hard, trust me.

Because we look for links, everywhere we look for these links. We know that Sylvia Plath committed suicide, so when you read Lady Lazarus, you make connections. Go read Lady Lazarus now, go read it knowing that Plath committed suicide, and keep that fact in mind. Here’s the link: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus

Now read it again, and try to forget it, all the connections you made knowing that Plath stuck her head in an oven. It is really hard to do, because you know, and you remember. Death of the Author is forgetting the context of the author, forgetting their impact on the text.

Here’s a thing, I write a lot. Like, a lot. Not published, obviously, but I write about as much as I read, and that is a lot. And I believe, that when you write, you put a bit of yourself into it. It doesn’t have to be obvious, maybe just the way you connect to a character, or your views on a topic. I can’t say I don’t do this - my main character is an asexual lesbian who panics a lot and loves her girlfriend. Her competence doesn’t come from me, but the gender, the sexuality, the panic? All of that is inspired by, you know, me. My experiences, my opinions. I am conscious in my word choices, I’m trying not to use gendered language for the soldiers, because they are men, women, non-binary, genderfluid and others, all together, so my main character can’t call them her men, they are her soldiers. It’s hard. I’m aware that I have biases, and my reading experiences are usually texts that ... do not do this. 

Sorry, I’m rambling, and no-one wants to know. 

But I as a writer, put a bit of myself in my work. And I think that’s what makes Death of the Author so hard to do, so hard to remember. 

And now onto HER. I can’t remember what brought my attention to her in the first place, maybe a post about a Harry Potter tv show?

The problem about JK Rowling is that she wrote Harry Potter. And Harry Potter is... huge. The problem is that we grew up on Harry Potter. 

Looking back, there are big problems with the series; plot holes bigger than my fist, a lack of original plot lines, and little creativity. Harry Potter is a mishmash of already well-established genres and archetypes, and it... doesn’t fit together particularly well. 

(Take Dumbledore, at once the mentor archetype from the fantasy genre and the authority figure in the boarding school genre. The problem is that being both causes a bit of dissonance. He mimics the typical ‘wise old mentor wizard’ from fantasy, like Gandalf, but he is also a school headmaster. He is a grandfatherly teacher who takes an interest in the son of two of his past students, nothing particularly new, but at the same time, he’s a figure out of legend, an incredibly powerful man, both magically and politically. It is hard for my brain to fit them together well because they are two different archetypes and they don’t mesh. They belong in different genres, because the way he is written can’t seem to decide which one he is. I might write more on this later if anyone’s interested)

But Rowling’s a TERF. And she’s been on Twitter and said all sorts of bizarre things about the odd mish-mash of genres she’s created. I’m not really a fan of Harry Potter anymore, I grew up with it. I have seven books in a shoebox under my bed. I have read far better books, I have read many, many books with more interesting stories, better internal consistency and characters with actual depth, who don’t need fandom to be interesting. 

And yet I still have all seven books in a shoebox under my bed. It’s hard. I genuinely liked the books - when I was twelve. I’d sooner recommend the Discworld books by the late great Sir Terry Pratchett than Harry Potter, and not just because of HER. They’re better books. Harry Potter is average. 

But we loved them. 

And Rowling’s a TERF. Her views on trans people are... not okay, by any measure. I don’t have words for ... how great the cognitive dissonance is. She wrote a series, a seven-book, eight-movie series, about the power of unconditional love. Over a million words, just under 20 hours about acceptance and tolerance. And yet she doesn’t believe that trans women are women. 

The problem is that it is hard to apply Death of the Author. Once you know that JK discriminates against transgender people, it is hard to read Harry Potter without remembering that. 

Then you get into other issues about how all of the endgame couples are straight. And Dumbledore’s only gay when the series is ended. And there’s a lack of diversity in the books and the movies. And once you start reading into it, it gets ... iffy. Because it’s not meant to be read into, not meant to be analysed. It’s a children’s series. But it’s problematic, not for the things it says, but fo the things it doesn’t say.

The thing is that SHE is impressive. As a writer, at least, not as a person. Because it is hard to write, and she managed an extensive, relatively-coherent storyline across seven books, released over ten years. But her first book got rejected, again and again. 

Her net worth is somewhere between 650 million and 1.2 billion. And she earns all that money off a book series whose main themes are friendship and love. And she’s a TERF.

I can’t say I hate her - I don’t know her. She might be a genuinely nice person, but she’s a TERF. She doesn’t believe that trans people are the gender that they say they are. I cannot understand how you can believe that, but. She does, apparently. She wrote so much about love conquering all evil, and friendship saving the day, but she doesn’t think that trans women should be allowed into female bathrooms.

I hate her ideology. 

Go read Discworld instead. Think about Death of the Author, then read Night Watch. It’s a great book. Or go read Good Omens, because Pratchett co-wrote that. 

The thing about Discworld is that you can tell what Pratchett thinks is worth paying attention to. Small Gods is primarily about religion, about belief, and about people. The last one is the most important, because Pratchett believed that the greatest thing you can be is human and kind, and he’s right. The witches on the Discworld are... perhaps not nice, but they are decent, and they are fundamentally people. They are human, and they are kind, and that is what makes them good people. 

The thing about Harry Potter is that “Muggle” sounds like a slur. There’s all this attention paid to the whole “mudblood” thing that people forget that behind all the blood purity nonsense - which sounds a lot like eugenics - the purebloods, the rich entitled kids, believe that non-magical people are less than animals. The Wizarding world is stuck in the Middle Ages, not even the bloody Renaissance. Human history has passed them by. It is so hard now to read Harry Potter without finding problems, like how all the magicals are fundamentally stupid, how a literal one-year-old is praised for supposedly killing an extremely powerful mass-murdering psycopath. A one-year-old. The Wizarding World is not a functional society, and it’s not meant to be. It’s not meant to hold up to scrutiny.

Look, Harry Potter is average, at best. Ask me for good kids books and I will point you in a dozen different directions, and I will point you in a dozen different directions - but not there. 

Because Death of the Author is hard. Not taking the creator’s intentions and background into account when interpreting a work is hard. You can know that an author is queer, or a person of colour, or of a certain religion, but once you know it, it is hard to not see it. 

You see, all the main characters in Harry Potter are white. They’re also all straight. Everyone not Harry Potter is flat. There is very little depth to anyone in those books, because they don’t matter. Hermione is defined by her relationship with Ron because her relationship is the most debated part of her character. Ron - in the movies at least - is seen as stupid because he is written stupid, he is written as comic relief. Book-verse Ron is a strategist, but that’s only really shown in the first two books. They’re not written with depth, they don’t need it. Harry’s the protagonist, Hermione’s the smart one, Ron’s the dumb-but-loyal comic-relief best friend. Ginny is the love interest, Luna’s the crazy one, the twins are comic-relief pranksters. Draco is the racist antagonist, Voldemort is a more extreme mass-murdering version. There are exactly zero trust-worth adults in a whole seven-book series, there are three? characters with depth in the whole series, everyone else is defined by a role and a single characteristic.

It is so hard to look critically at Harry Potter and not see everything that relates to Rowling. It is problematic as a series, and problematic as content created by a TERF. It is problematic as literature in the first place. It’s written as a kids book, but for all its ‘adult’ themes, it can’t stand up to scrutiny.

This got long - I got a bit carried away. Sorry.

Tell me what you think, tell me your opinion. I’d love to discuss this with you because it so hard to write about. Argue with me, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m right if you think I am. Have I said anything problematic? Please lets start talking about this because it’s interesting and a difficult topic, and I think we need to start looking closer at authors and content creators. 

[idealnreal]

Please overanalyze the shadows in his palace I am begging you.

@appleyjuiceboy​ / jester owns my braincells of course i would do this for u

Okay so i think its best if i go about the order of shadows we meet in the game so. I’m not going to go into the persona/shadows in maruki’s palace. I’ll leave that for some other day. Now! Lets hope i can remain fully coherent.

1) The fluffy haired noodle shadow we meet for (ka)sumi’s awakening

First off, look at the design of this shadow--it has the fluffy hair parted to the right like maruki, its androgynous figure, and that swirly face mask as well! The mask has two eyes, and it even looks like theres a smile there, lopsided. 

We have never seen any other palace shadow taking a similar shape as the palace ruler (except maybe the yaldaboath palace). Shadows are meant to emulate what the ruler thinks of as protectors of their heart. Maruki doesn’t trust anyone other than himself with this secret. And particularly at this phase of his distortion -- there are no scientists, to attendants, no patients. Just an empty, beautiful palace -- with possibly only one type of shadow and protector. The type that represents himself. 

(Also androgynous/nb maruki confirmed ?? yes)

Okay then lets look at what this shadow says to Kasumi.

Shadow: ... Heresy. You dare to spurn our lord’s mercy. Accept yourself... Our lord laments the foolishness birthed from your pain.

Having the context that Kasumi is Sumire here ... Because this scene comes about because Kasumi sees a cognitive version of herself (Sumire) blaming herself -- and so, a part of her is probably trying to remember that she is Sumire. Thus ‘spurn(ing) our lord’s mercy’. And yeah accepting herself as Kasumi instead of trying to remember that she is Sumire. 

But most important is the fact that Maruki’s palace shadows refer to him as a religious or god-like being (’our lord’s mercy’ calling back christian themes). Someone who is merciful and, most of all, does feel grief over one’s pain. Painting an ideal picture of a loving and caring god, ala abrahamic religions. This is a running theme with all the shadow’s dialogs. Let’s put a pin in this for now. 

These design shadows are seen again later in the container room of the palace. They’re slightly faster. The container room is a strange one -- because it doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the laboratory/hospital/garden of eden thing going on.  While yes labs and hospitals do have storage areas, i cant imagine them being a container warehouse like this. I do headcanon that this is a storage area for the pain and suffering that Maruki has taken on from other people in order to heal them, due to his hyper empathy -- but i’ll analyse the room some other time. For now it’s interesting that the Maruki-like shadows are now relegated to this specific and really dark section of the palace.

Like the throne room/centre of eden that the Maruki boss fight takes place in -- He resigns himself to the darker gloomier parts of his palace. And the same goes for these shadows. This is where he belongs. 

Also abso-fucking-lutely we’re going to talk about how this shadow transforms when it ambushes you:

Skin suit opening up to reveal fangs and rows of teeth, and a formless monster inside. Maruki ... dude ... are you okay? If these shadows are meant to emulate him -- is this how he sees himself sometimes? HHh boy...

2) First lab coat wearing shadow at the start of his palace investigation

Prior to this, while we understood that Maruki was a researcher, it was never a defining feature of him. Like the first thing that came to my mind on Maruki was that he was just the school counsellor and snack purveyor. Now this entire researcher, scientist, side of him is in full display. And this is the most common type of shadow we see, some which are violent, and others are non violent. Maruki sees scientists as the main residents of his palace -- his drive towards investigation and discovery, to puzzling out the intricacies of the human heart, human mind, and human pain. To better further his ability to heal. But there’s also a sort of cold, methodical nature to these scientists. Their ‘healing’ is methodical, based in science.

This coupled with the religious reverence and ideology that their dialog suggests, is a nice contrast. Experiments, data, research, are people’s salvation. Not the simple belief of a deity or of a higher purpose -- but science. Science, in many ways, becomes part and parcel of their religious belief.

Shadow: Those guises ... You aren’t among those who desire salvation. Leave. You are unwanted intruders. Do not disturb our lord’s research-- this world’s salvation. Why do you willingly strive for self-suffering? Why are you reaching out to your own pain?

So here -- the shadow wants them to leave the palace well enough alone. To leave Maruki to his research, and to allow this reality to exist. They don’t want this to end violently and it seems like they’re okay with the trio not ‘desiring salvation’. And when the trio refuse to leave, the shadow asks them why they want to suffer. It’s something inconceivable to them. Maybe even challenging their resolve-- to reconsider their current path, which will only lead to more pain. Also ‘salvation’, ding, on the christian theme counter. Deliverance from above from sin, even redemption. Not for one person, but for the whole world. 

We see this type of shadow again before the scene in the auditorium. 

Shadow: You are misguided. Do not search for pain. Only tragedy awaits you beyond here. [After defeating it] Such a fool, rejecting our lord’s mercy. In that case -- witness it for yourself.

Same themes. Delicious. Lets move on now shall we.

3) Hastur -- the shadow that appears with Maruki at his reveal as his second-in-command / bodyguard

I don’t think i’ve talked about how much i love the lopsided smiles on these masks. Because i love it. it’s just the right amount of unsettling and creepy. fUCk. And the twitching, twisting, and the weeping blue paint that Hastur’s shadow form does before transforming is /chefs kiss. I wanted more.

Anyway, onto Hastur’s design. Not a labcoat this time, just an ordinary looking white suit with no tie. This is the only time we see Maruki have a bodyguard shadow -- something else he relies on. Hastur’s presence in this scene only shows how deeply afraid and uncomfortable Maruki actually is with intruders in his palace. This experience is a reminder that someone had come into Rumi’s parents house to kill him years ago (a theory for another time). Like that incident years ago, he doesn’t resort to violence here -- he did and does try to negotiate. But when that didn’t work, at least now he has something that can fight for him. 

( It is only in the second infiltration when we see Maruki actually take a more active role -- but I won’t get to that here. )

Hastur: Stubborn imbeciles, rejecting our lord ...

There is a running theme here, unfortunately. The shadows again cannot comprehend why anyone would choose to reject Maruki’s salvation, why anyone would choose suffering. And words like ‘foolish’ ‘misguided’ and finally ‘imbeciles’ here are all used to describe those who choose to reject it. While i do think Maruki only bends reality if the person wishes it (subconsciously or consciously), and does accept that there are people who won’t accept their wishes being granted and is aware of the reasons why-- He cannot fully understand or emphatise with it. 

4) These deformed Maruki-like shadows guarding the control room

Jesus christ above, i don’t like these, because they contrast with all other designs as these are more brutish and deformed. There’s used as gatekeepers at certain points of the palace, in the first control room, and later on in the brain-pod-room (my brain cells are stopping to work now excuse me) before the garden puzzle portion, at his final will seed and the entrance to the garden of eden.

We know Maruki isn’t a brute strength kinda person. And yet we see these few who’s only purpose is to defend certain things and areas with force. Its uncharacteristic, but at the same time, given the things that these shadows are defending -- it makes sense. No cunning, no wit, no negotiation, no compassion -- just forcefully defending very important parts of his heart and his work. 

Shadow (at the control room): So you dare defy His Excellency. You shall not interfere with our master’s work!

Shadow (brainwash room): Foolish rebels! You won’t take one step past here!

Shadow (entrance to garden of eden) : You?! I can’t believe you’ve made it so far ...

I had to do a double take on this. I think this is the only time this title ‘His Excellency’ has been used in the palace. While it is used for catholic bishops and that sort -- its mostly used in the context of heads of state, ambassadors-- more secular roles. The other times this shadow speaks is also similarly less reverent, less religious orientated. Of course this makes sense if the only function of these shadows is to use force to defend. They’re not the scientists or the first maruki-imitation shadows -- they’re not as devoted, and they dont have to be. 

5) Finally, these limbless noodles

This one is found during the horticulture portion of the palace. I can’t exactly figure out why. And as far as i can tell, they only appear in this portion of the palace.

As far as the design goes -- these are probably the most unhuman like. Slender, androgynous with only a mask. I’ve got nothing. Braincells ran out. Sorry!

(Haha androgynous maruki go brr)

SO! That’s it. thanks for coming to my ted talk and following me down this rabbit hole. I need to go and drink some fuckin tea. 

[spaceskam]

our fainted thrill carries on (12/13)

ao3

warning: blood, violence, self-inflicted wound

Of all the ways Michael imagined his day going, he did not expect to be riding to a different city with Jesse Manes in the passenger seat and Maria DeLuca calling him four times in a row.

He had over an hour left, so he decided to pick up the phone despite the fact that he’d been planning to actually go see her in person. The whole mishap with finding out who Sanders was and the stupid piece (that was stuffed under the seat of his truck thanks to Rosa’s last-minute thinking) had put off going to talk to her.

“Hello?” 

“Finally,” Maria scoffed, voice laced with controlled panic, “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Where are you at?”

“Um, a couple hours away. What’s up?” he said. She was quiet for a few seconds.

“Liz is freaking out,” Maria told him, speaking slow like she was making a point, “She-she’s not really making sense, but she said she needs you. Something about Max.”

“Fuck” Michael groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. On one hand, he really needed to go to Max. On the other hand… Alex needed him more. “Uh, look, give me, like, a day, okay? Tell her to get Isobel and I’ll be back. There’s something going on with Alex, so he needs me.”

“Wait, what’s going on with Alex? Is he okay?” she asked, concerning prevalent in her voice. God, they really needed to talk to her.

“I-I don’t know yet. Just, listen, tell Liz I said it’s okay and then get her to talk to you,” Michael decided, his eyes going to his passenger who was clearly listening in. He was slowly forgetting why exactly he’d taken Jesse Manes on this trip in the first place.

“What’s okay? Michael, what is going on?” she demanded. He clutched the steering wheel harder.

“I swear, we’ll talk when I get back, I promise. Just… Just do this for me, okay? Just go help Liz, she needs someone else. I’ll be there before you know it,” he said. Maria was silent for a few seconds before she quietly agreed and the call ended.

“For a creature who has managed to trick people for over two decades, you’re a terrible liar,” Jesse told him, voice far too controlled for Michael’s liking.

“Yeah, well, for a guy with four sons, you’re a terrible fucking father,” Michael sighed, dropping his phone. He pressed on the gas harder.

Why did everything have to happen in one goddamn day?

-

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kyle said.

Alex had recently grown a renewed appreciation for Kyle Valenti, but the last few days had made that appreciation grow immensely. And, the last few hours? He was more thankful than he could even articulate.

Kyle kept checking his head and his arm, just making sure over and over that they weren’t infected. Alex was slowly but surely feeling more like himself and getting stronger, but he was definitely keeping that to himself. He was more than certain that they had cameras on them. They just had to act helpless.

He gave Kyle his arm, letting him check over the stupid fucking brand that made Alex feel ill. He didn’t want that on him. It was made all the worse when Kyle’s hand froze, his thumb hardly an inch beneath the brand. His eyes slowly flickered up to meet Alex’s and then he pressed down. Alex swallowed as he realized there was a chip beneath his skin.

Then the door at the top of the cellar opened, a single file line of three people walking in. One of them was Casey, one of them was who Alex assumed was Grandpa Cameron, and one of whom was Jenna. She had that hardened look on her face, but Alex was no stranger to it. She was playing her part, keeping herself and them safe. He would thank her for it when he didn’t have to act like he hated her.

“What the fuck is the point of all this? We’re human,” Alex said, making sure to maintain an equal amount of venom and fatigue. They couldn’t know he was feeling better.

“I’m sure you know that humans and their aliens… it’s an inseparable bond. Volatile and violent. We just have to wait for yours to show up and we can kill you both,” Grandpa Cameron said. Alex shook his head tiredly.

“I have no alien bond,” Alex said, “But if I did, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Grandpa Cameron continued and Alex hated it because they both knew Michael was probably on his way, “You’re a special one, Alex Manes. It takes a special breed of evil to bond with an alien. I have a working theory that Manes are particularly susceptible to it.”

Alex couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Manes? Wasn’t it a Cameron that fell in love with an alien before? Wasn’t a Cameron the one who snuck away with Nora and gave her information about the raid?

“How cute. You really thought you knew something,” Casey laughed. His face was busted to hell still and, honestly, that made Alex feel better. 

“Oh, you must’ve heard it was a Cameron who bonded, haven’t you?” Grandpa Cameron accused, stepping closer, “Well, you’re wrong. He created the M.V.C. to be what it is today. He studied the bond by tricking an alien into thinking that’s what it was. He was never that stupid.”

Alex didn’t show it on his face, but it clicked that clearly that Cameron was that stupid. He just got his feelings hurt when it in fact wasn’t a bond and his love was one-sided and started a fucking cult in response. 

His eyes looked over them. Casey was beaten, Grandpa Cameron was about to burst with decades of anger, and Cam… Cam had that same brand on her arm. Alex looked over to Kyle. Did they not know who Kyle was? Why hadn’t he been branded?

“What, you worried your boyfriend might know you have a pet alien now?” Casey taunted. Alex’s eyes widened momentarily and then he controlled them, taking this as an advantage.

Alex couldn’t help but smile. “Oh. How cute. You really thought you knew something.”

A flash of anger crossed Casey’s face and he shared a look with Grandpa Cameron. Cam shot him a look and Alex just kept smiling.

“Why don’t you tell me something I want to know and I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Alex said, making a show of moving to lay his back against the wall. He put effort into seeming weaker than he felt. “Tell me what set of aliens you’ve been experimenting on to come to these conclusions and I’ll tell you who my friend here is.”

Alex watched Casey and Grandpa Cameron get visibly a little confused. Kyle was confused too which was fair. But, truly, he wanted to see how far he could convince them that Kyle was his alien. Maybe then they’d be taken aback when Michael showed up, guns blazing and telekinesis in full swing. He had been practicing, after all.

Casey and Grandpa shared a look before they stepped towards Kyle who instantly pushed himself closer to Alex either out of fear or sheer instinct. Alex tilted his head and shook it slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Nuh-uh, you lay a hand on him and I tell you nothing,” Alex said, “And I know much more than you think I do.”

Again, they shared a look. Eventually, they decided they needed to talk before coming back to Alex and the three went back up the stairs. Even when they were gone, Alex didn’t show that he was scared or nervous or anything.

God, please let Michael show up before they realized he didn’t know shit.

-

“If you go in there, they’ll know what you are.”

Michael anxiously tapped the steering wheel as he sat the end of the achingly long driveway. Alex was just inside. He just had to go inside.

“And they’ll know who you are. Will they let you in, or will they shoot you on sight?” Michael wondered. He’d spent most of the drive in silence and, whenever Jesse tried to say some bullshit, he would turn up the volume. He just needed him for bait and information, really. Jesse had told him how dangerous the Camerons were before and that Alex really was in danger.

“Can’t be entirely sure,” Jesse sighed.

“But they know what I am?” Michael clarified, “Like, they know what I look like? You run off the same database?”

“Not necessarily. The Camerons aren’t as technical, they were always very much the brawn of M.V.C.”

“Why do you even have the fucking tattoo on you? If M.V.C. disbanded before you were even let in on the secret, then why do you have it?” Michael wondered. Jesse looked over at him.

“It’s principal, son,” he stated simply, “We bare the weight of our predecessors.”

Michael stared at the house and mulled over those words. Was that why Alex thought that way? Had he rejected so much of Jesse’s ideologies, yet kept that one? God, this was such bullshit. Maybe when this was all over, Alex would let him back into his bed. Even if it was just for one night. They needed it.

Michael took a deep breath and looked over to Jesse. He hated making plans and he hated making plans with Jesse, but Alex never went in blind. Alex always had a plan. Anger never got you anywhere. Anger would get them killed; plans would keep them alive.

“Alright, Dad,” Michael said, flashing a tight smile, “We’re gonna go up there and ask for my brother back in exchange for somethin’ fancy.”

“Excuse me?” Jesse said, raising a controlled eyebrow. It looked too similar, too much like Alex. Michael had to look away.

“You heard me.”

He shut the car off and reached under the seat, pulling out one of Alex’s backpacks that held the piece. He knew he brought it for a reason. Jesse didn’t question what it was, staying silent as he watched Michael put the bag securely on his back.

“Let’s go, Pops.”

With a little bit of a telekinetic shove, the two men began heading straight for the front door. The closer he got, the more he was willing to acknowledge that his plan was indeed half-assed at best. But, still, a half-assed plan was better than no plan. Maybe. Kinda. He was trying, that was the point. 

They knocked on the door and, surprisingly, Jesse played along. Michael was slightly discombobulated at the idea of Jesse actually coming along to help Alex. This was the least volatile he’d ever been. Maybe that coma was good for him. Still, Michael kept one eye on him. All it took was a moment of trust to fuck up everything. He knew that from experience.

The door opened and Jenna Cameron stood on the other side. Michael did his best to hide his confusion and took her tiny eyebrow lift as acknowledgment.

“It’s Manes!” she called. Heavy footsteps came and an old man stepped up. He was tall and lean and walked like he was the king of hell and knew it. For a moment, Michael considered asking for tips on how to do that. 

“Quicker than I thought,” he said. Jesse raised his chin to meet the eyes of the taller and older man, still managing to look down on him.

“Abel,” Jesse greeted. In that moment, Michael understood why Jesse was complying. Michael and Jesse Manes somehow share different hate for the same man. The enemy of my enemy, after all.

“Jesse,” the old man said, looking over to Michael, “And who’s this?”

“My youngest son,” Jesse said easily and, oh, Michael was close to crawling out of his skin. 

“Oh, really?” Abel said, skeptical, “Because last I saw I had your youngest in my basement.” Michael was back to hating the man in front of him.

“Tripp’s long lost son, had ‘em right before he died. Took him in,” Jesse said, taking a step closer and into the house like he was entitled to it. Michael followed his lead. “Now, why don’t we talk about my other son.”

“Don’t come here blaming us, that wasn’t planned. He was trying to play spy,” Abel scoffed, “When my Casey found out, your boy beat the shit out of him. Then we find out he’s still got that alien bond so bad he brought the damn thing with him.”

Now that was confusing. Well, the last sentence. The first bit seemed exactly like Alex. 

“Still can’t figure out why you let him go around like that. Truly shows what kinda bullshit you Manes are capable of,” Abel said, shaking his head, “Too much damn passion in all of you, that’s what my Daddy said.”

“He has an alien with him?” Michael asked, unable to stop himself. He got more attention than he would’ve liked. “I-I mean, I thought we effectively got him away from all of those creatures.” The words sounded wrong in his mouth and that didn’t go unnoticed. Abel eyed him slowly.

“Tripp’s boy, you said? Makes sense,” he said, shaking his head, “He’s got an alien with him. Which definitely makes it more worth my while to keep him. Your boy thinks we got live experiments outside of him.”

“My son isn’t your experiment,” Jesse said, still cold as ice, “It’s in your best interest to hand him over along with whatever alien you think he has.”

Michael could feel Cam’s eyes on him. He carefully let his eyes drift to hers. She covered her mouth to cough and used the motion to nod towards a door. Michael slowly began to feel out the lock to it with his mind. When she coughed again, he didn’t miss the way she held up three fingers. Three guards. 

“That would definitely not be in my best interest and you know it. I got exactly what I’ve been trying to get when your selfish old man kept all the live specimen to yourself,” Abel said.

“Chances are what you have are my boy and a Valenti boy, not an alien,” Jesse corrected, “If you did any kind of testing, you would know that.”

Abel eyed him suspiciously and didn’t seem to notice when the lock clicked. 

“A Valenti boy?” Abel said, seeming confused, “I thought they were all dead.”

“Jim wasn’t the brightest man, but he knew better than to make his son easily accessible.”

So that was a choice Jesse made. At least he could admit that.

Neither men noticed when Cam slipped into the door. Michael had full faith she could handle the guards well enough. Either that or she could at least talk to Kyle and Alex, prepare them to get the fuck out of there. 

“No alien. So why don’t you let my son and the Valenti boy go,” Jesse said. Abel seemed to consider it for only a few seconds before he shook his head.

“Your son is still bonded with one of them. The specimen will come for him eventually,” Abel said definitively. Jesse didn’t bother to spare him a passing glance, another point of self-control that Alex had and Michael most definitely did not.

“This bond you keep talking about, it’s not even real. Your entire ideology is built off something baseless,” Jesse argued. Hypocrite. “No one but me is coming.”

“I’ll just have to keep him and see.”

“Wait,” Michael said, catching both their attention, “I have an alien artifact. Authentic. I give you that, you give us them.”

Abel stared at Michael for far too many seconds. He just fucking wanted Alex.

“Let me see.”

“I don’t trust you,” Jesse said, “Show us Alex first.”

Again, more fucking staring. Eventually, though, he caved and they were being led towards that door Cam had disappeared behind. Michael clutched onto the backpack even tighter, giving that piece a tiny goodbye. As much as he wanted it and as much as he’d ruined shit with Alex over it, it seemed like a far too easy trade to save Alex in exchange.

It took an unprecedented of willpower not to run up to Alex and collapse onto him when he saw him. He looked tired, smeared makeup on his face. But he was standing and that was good. He was leaning on Kyle and showing no visible emotion as he saw Michael, but his eyes betrayed how thankful he was to see him. He needed a fucking hug.

But, unlike Abel, Michael didn’t miss the fact that there were no guards and no Cam. He swept his eyes over Alex, spotting bloody knuckles and a red spot on his forehead like he’d headbutted someone. There were a few racks of wine‒how many unconscious men laid behind them after underestimating Alex? Michael held back a big smile.

“Right, now give me the artifact,” Abel demanded.

“Give it to you while we’re in your basement? Idiotic, we’re going back upstairs and taking the boys,” Jesse ordered, gesturing back towards the steps. Michael was uncomfortably thankful for Jesse. It was easy to forget that he was actually cunning. Just not as cunning as Alex was.

They slowly made it up the stairs in a line, everything too easy and too military. Michael was just fucking waiting for something to be weird or wrong. He kept stealing glances at Alex, watching as he all but clung to Kyle. He itched for him.

Once they all got on the ground floor again (Cam appearing at the top of the steps after everyone else, her hair a little disheveled), Michael shifted the bag and unzipped it. He ignored the slightly horrified look from Alex as he pulled out the piece. Abel’s eyes widened with greed, stepping towards it.

And then things got a little weird.

Before Abel could get his hands on it, Alex and Jesse both seemed to have the galaxy-brained idea to knock him out. Jesse swung with an open fist and Alex with a closed on either side of his head, quickly rendering him unconscious and probably fucking with his entire equilibrium. He fell to the floor and Michael stared, dumbfounded.

“What the fuck are you waiting for, Guerin? Move,” Alex pushed, shoving his back gently so they could head towards the door. But Michael looked up at Jesse.

“Do you really think I’m giving this family anything? He should feel lucky he even knows the secret,” Jesse said, eyeing him with that familiar judgment, “You seemed far too comfortable with that.”

“We can talk later, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Cam said.

They all started running to the truck and maybe Michael should’ve thought it through. It wasn’t really big enough for all of them. Still, there wasn’t much thinking. Cam went for the driver’s seat and Kyle went for the passenger door. Michael jumped into the bed and reached out to pull Alex up too.

“Stop!” Alex said, causing all of them to freeze as he held out his arm. Michael felt sick at the sight of that three-headed trident. “I can’t leave. He put a fucking chip in me, he’s going to track me and we’re all fucked.”

“Then you cut it out,” Jesse instructed, not missing a beat. Alex didn’t even seem phased. Jesse pulled a pocket knife out of nowhere‒maybe Michael should’ve checked for weapons‒and took a step towards Alex. He grabbed Alex’s arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Alex spat, ripping out of his grip and taking a step back. 

“Then show me you’re a man and do it yourself,” Jesse said, voice stern as he held out the knife to Alex.

Michael hated the interaction and, despite all the help Jesse had done, he was quickly reminded why he hated him so much. His existence alone ate at the person Alex was. He was poison and Alex, no matter how strong, couldn’t seem to stop himself from giving it attention. 

Alex took the knife and, without hesitation or screaming or anything, cut into his forearm. Kyle hissed and went to move closer, but Cam grabbed the back of his shirt and basically yanked him into the passenger seat of the truck. Michael watched with bated breath as Alex dug into his own arm and pulled out the chip. Alex looked at his dad before looking up at Michael. With a quick nod of his head, he sent the chip flying somewhere to get lost on the property.

“Are we done being dramatic?! Let’s fucking go!” Cam yelled.

Jesse didn’t even so much as spare a bit of praise as he took his knife back and sandwiched Kyle inside the cab of the truck. Michael carefully lifted Alex into the bed and Cam was speeding away before they could even get settled. They laid down, close just like old times. Except this time Alex was bleeding all over.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Alex hissed, his body jostling with each bump they hit, “Bringing my father and then offering to trade that piece for me? Have you lost your mind? I was expecting you to come alone.”

“I would’ve fucked up things if I came alone,” he said, moving to put his arm beneath Alex’s head so he wouldn’t hurt himself more, “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, I just fucking cut my arm open!”

“Hey,” Michael said, whispering despite the wind making it difficult to hear, “You trust me?”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows, trying to gauge what was on Michael’s mind. But, honestly, despite all the commotion, he was more at peace than he had been in a long time. Alex was alive and there was literally nothing else he could do but stare at him for the next three hours. Might as well be at peace.

And might as well keep him safe.

“Trust you?” Alex echoed. Michael slowly moved Alex’s hand off the open wound, closing his palm over it. 

“Yeah. You trust me?”

He wasn’t quite sure he could do it, but he could definitely try. He’d been feeling a whole bunch of emotions all day… might as well direct them somewhere. All he had to do was focus, right? Besides, they still had a lot of day left. Something was going on with Max. This was just the beginning and Michael had enough drive to push himself to do something with that underused power he’d kept pent up all day.

Alex took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

“I trust you.”

[paulinedorchester]

Mosley, Leonard. Backs to the Wall: London Under Fire, 1939-1954. London: George Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1971; reprint, as Backs to the Wall: The Heroic Story of the People of London During World War II, New York: Random House, 1971.

Each generation gets the history that it needs — or wants, or demands. That’s what kept going through my head as I read Backs to the Wall, which appeared three years after France’s youth explicitly rejected both Charles de Gaulle, the self-appointed leader of the Free French during World War II, and the political ideology that he represented, and amidst ongoing unrest over the Vietnam War. (It’s also worth mentioning that it was published in the same year as Norman Longmate’s How We Lived Then: A History of Everyday Life During the Second World War and two years after Angus Calder’s The People’s War.) This book gives up a World War II narrative in which Churchill was an improvement on Chamberlain only in that he wasn’t an appeaser, de Gaulle was worse than both of them put together, the Allied leaders all cordially loathed each other, half the British public wanted to sue for peace, and there was across-the-board mutual dislike between London civilians and American troops (and British dismay at the way African-American troops were treated by their white counterparts was far from universal). Do I exaggerate? Only slightly. Backs to the Wall is a sort of distant, city-specific pre-echo of Juliet Gardner’s sour 2004 book Wartime: Britain, 1939-45.

As with Wartime, however, this book does have the virtue of introducing us to a number of very interesting people. I became interested in reading it because it brought Vere Hodgson’s wartime diary to public attention. Mosley quotes or paraphrases Hodgson’s writing from the beginning of the war through its end, and also seems to have interviewed her extensively. His primary villain, meanwhile, is not Chamberlain but Chamberlain’s chief acolyte, Henry “Chips” Channon, from whose diary he quotes widely (and who turns out to have been born and raised in the United States, to my surprise). We hear a great deal from the chemist and novelist C.P. Snow and follow the misadventures of two civilians, Jenny Martin and Polly Wright, whose consistency in both bad luck and bad choices meant that neither of them was able to stay out of serious trouble for any length of time.

There are many glimpses of the London home front through the eyes of two boys, both eight when the war began: John Hardiman, of Canning Town and later of Aldgate, who was evacuated in 1939 but soon returned to London, and Donald Ketley of Chadwell Heath, who was never evacuated at all. Donald, who thoroughly enjoyed himself during the war, had an experience that speaks to our own recent reality:

Another good thing: quite early in the Blitz, his school had been totally destroyed by a bomb. Since Donald was shy, a poor student and unpopular with his teacher, he was overjoyed when he heard the place was gone. Thereafter he went each day to his teacher’s home to pick up lessons, which he brought back the next day for marking. In the following months he changed from a poor student to an excellent one, and although he was aware that his teacher rather resented it, he didn’t care. 

Mosley also introduces us to Archibald McIndoe, the real-life counterpart of Patrick Jamieson, Bill Patterson’s character in the Foyle’s War episode ‘Enemy Fire.’ Art seems to have imitated life pretty accurately in that instance: he and his burn hospital in East Grinstead were apparently exactly like what was depicted, the only difference being that the hospital was set up in an existing hospital building, not in a requisitioned stately home.

Backs to the Wall seems to have been one of the earliest books to make substantial use of Mass-Observation writings. Most M-O diaries are anonymous, but there are two named diarists here who stand out. John James Donald was a committed pacifist whose air of lofty detachment as he observes the reactions of those around him to air-raids and other wartime event and prepares for his tribunal — which, in the end, he decides not to attend — quickly grows irritating. More interesting is Rosemary Black, a 28-year-old widow, in no small part because she differs markedly from what I had thought of as the archetypical M-O writer. Here’s her self-description on M-O documents: “Upper-middle-class; mother of two children (girls aged 3 and 2); of independent means.” Mosley continues:

She lived in a trim three-story house in a quiet street of the fashionable part of Maida Vale, a short taxi ride from the center of the West End, whose restaurants and theatres she knew well. She was chic and attractive, and lacked very few of the niceties of life: there was Irene, a Hungarian refugee, to look after the children; Helen, a Scottish maid, to look after herself and the house; and a daily cleaning woman to do the major chores.

Black took her children out of London at the beginning of the war but quickly brought them back, and when bombs began falling she kept them in place — air raids might be disruptive for them, but apparently relocation had been worse. She was very much aware that she was riding out the war in a position of privilege, and she often expressed guilt feelings; but this tended to fade away before her irritation at the dominance of “the muddling amateur or the soulless bureaucrat” in the war effort. Offering her services, even as a volunteer, proved very frustrating. “She was young, strong and willing; she typed, spoke languages, was an expert driver and had taken a course in first aid,” Mosley tells us, “but finding a job even as a chauffeur was proving difficult” in September 1940. (She actually wasn’t all that strong physically: as we learn, she suffered from rheumatism which grew worse during the war years and probably affected her outlook.)

Black was greeted with “apathy and indifference” by both A.R.P. and the Women’s Voluntary Service. Early in 1941 she was finally able to get a place handing out tea, sandwiches, cake, and so on to rescue and clean-up workers at bomb sites from a Y.M.C.A. mobile canteen. She was a bit intimidated by the women with whom she found herself working:

Their class is right up to the county family level. Nearly everyone is tall above the average and remarkably hefty, even definitely large, not necessarily fat but broad and brawny. Perhaps this is something to do with the survival of the fittest.

And the work did bring her some satisfaction, even if it was of the type that lent itself to being recorded with tongue placed firmly in cheek:

We had a pleasant and uneventful day’s work serving City fire sites, the General Post Office, demolition workers and Home Guard Stations, etc. We were complimented at least half a dozen times on the quality of our tea ... I think the provision of saccharine for the tea urns to compensate for the mean sugar allowance is my most successful piece of war work. What did you do in the Great War, Mummy? Sneaked pills into the tea urns, darling.

For all her good humor and astute observations, Mrs. Black was far from immune to tiny-mindedness. After an evening out in 1943 she wrote:

I had to wait some time for the others in the cinema foyer, and I was much struck, as often before, by the almost complete absence of English people these days, from the capital of England. Almost every person who came in was either a foreigner, a roaring Jew, or both. The Cumberland [Hotel] has always been a complete New Jerusalem, but this evening it really struck me as no worse than anywhere else! It is really dismaying to see that this should be the result of this war in defence of our country.

Indeed, Mosley cites the results of a multi-year Mass-Observation study that showed a marked increase in anti-Jewish views London’s general population over the course of the war. Since it’s just one study, and since I haven’t seen that study mentioned anywhere else, I am reluctant to trust blindly in its accuracy; and there’s also this:

The small flat which George [Hardiman] had procured for [his family] ... in Aldgate was cleaner and airier than the old house in Canning Town [which had been bombed], and the little Jewish children with whom John now went to school seemed to be cleaner than the ones in Elm Road; at any rate, he no longer came home with nits in his hair.

On the other hand, Mosley himself gives us only a fragmentary view of London’s wartime Jewish population: everyone seems to be either a terrified refugee or an impoverished East Ender. We hear nothing about the substantial middle- and upper-middle class population — mostly of German descent and in some cases German birth — that had already taken shape in Northwest London; and while we are briefly introduced to Sir David Waley, a Treasury official, in connection with the case of an interned Jewish refugee, we aren’t told that Waley himself was Jewish, a member of “the cousinhood.” On yet a third hand, Mosley also quotes other M-O surveys from the same period that indicate largely hostile attitudes to most foreigners in London, with Poles at the bottom of the ladder and the small Dutch contingent on top. (Incidentally, the book’s extremely patchy index identifies Vere Hodgson as a Mass-Observation diarist, which she wasn’t.)

Backs to the Wall closes with a very brief, remarkably non-partisan account of the 1945 general election and its immediate aftermath. “Neither side had any inkling of the way the minds of the British voters were turning,” he writes.

When [Churchill’s] friends suggested that he was a victim of base ingratitude, he shook his head. He would not have such a charge leveled against his beloved countrymen. Ingratitude? "Oh, no," he said quietly, "I wouldn’t call it that. They have had a very hard time."

The book is worth reading for the primary materials that it includes, but it probably tells us as much about the era in which it was written as about the period that it covers.