#if all the people who disparaged it for being “wrong” just fixed it themselves

[maspers]

One of my college professors: "Don't ever use Wikipedia for school assignments and professional works." My class: "We know." Professor: "I shall prove it. Many years ago a friend and I put a lie about Harrison Ford on Wikipedia and it's still there. People think it's true, to the point that it's been put into official print biographies about him." Me: "If it's become that widespread, shouldn't you, like fess up and remove it?" Other Classmate: "Yeah you're continuing the spread of misinformation. Isn't that kind of unethical?" Me: "Especially since you're teaching a class on preventing misinformation and identifying fraud." Professor: "No, I'm not taking it down, it's funny. And it's Wikipedia, so nobody cares. None of my other classes complained about this in the past."

Of course, now that she finally had a class that's internet-savvy, the factoid is no longer there, presumably removed by one of my classmates. But now you know. There's a "well-known" fact about Harrison Ford that's a complete fabrication. Good luck figuring out what it is!

[ambersoon]

Why do fucking parents tend to disregard their kids or try to listen on their kids conversations with me. It really sucks because I'm sit there and I try the best I can to challenge my kids but also not make them feel like they're horrible people. One kid I work with is such Rosie colored glasses about the world everything's fine everything's great he's doing great he's doing fine and we have talked about this many many times but he chooses that view of the world and he never challenges that our checks in with himself to actually see if he's actually doing great. And when I find out from Mom that he's always doing horrible he's never doing anything correctly he does everything horribly like she has this black colored glasses view of himself and I have seen some of the pictures that he has done and his room and I'm just like well well what are you doing to help him rather than scream at him or yell at him or disparage him no kids going to want to do anything when all they hear is negative things about themselves no wonder he has a rose colored glasses a view about the world. And I tried to challenge him on his thinking but it's not my job to fix him or make him see what he's doing wrong he has to see what I'm giving him and take it and use it and then change I can't change him it's not my job as a therapist that's not my role as a therapist that is not who I am and what I do. If you're so worried about what I'm trying to say to your kid if you're so worried about what is going on with him why don't you talk to me more about it instead of like be so much asparaging to him yelling at him and telling he's a horrible person that he'll never make it I know he is not doing well at school I knew it because of the mom but I keep getting Rose Colored Glasses and that he's catching up and then he's doing this and he's getting better he's handling it more but that's this kid and she's saying he's lying to me but he's more lying to himself and he does it all the time and then when some little spat happens at the place he's staying and he can't handle it he does run home and which is what she wants she wants to take care of him she wants to be there for him and have him there and have him there for the rest of her life because she needs him just as much as he needs her it's like codependency relationship I have in another case that I have but people don't understand that. I think this kid also wanted his video games that's why he is comfy at home because his video games are his stuff is there he's not going to handle the situation of being on his own and I could see it but his mom didn't see it because she's the issue of it but she's more negative than positive like my other case. She's less supporting of him and more like he is a horrible person he can never do anything right. And I am trying my hardest to make this kid see the light of day but I can only do so much I can only get so much past the Rose Colored Glasses and when those glasses are tightly screwed into his eyeballs and Mom has those black colored smokey eye glasses and those are screwed into her eyeballs and that's all they see and she's not willing to work with me to take them off and try to work with him there's only so much I can do being a therapist is not very easy it's a balancing act it's allying with the client that's the child but now so not alienating them from their parent and it sucks cuz I really want this kid to do well but I also want Mom to see he has potential if she only just being more positive about him

[fanficwritersinterviewed]

FTF, tessiete

<<This post is a part of a longer conversation about fanfic writers, how they view fanfic, and their writing process. All views are the fanfic writer’s own, and whatever fanfic they choose to write is entirely their own decision. No judgement value will be placed on fic content. These conversations are meant to provide insight for other fanfic writers in whatever stage they are at in their writing life>>

Final Thoughts Friday (with tessiete, @tessiete​)

Talk fanfic to me.  Aaaaaaaah! I love fanfiction! I don't know that it's anything grand or sweeping, but I think it's unfairly maligned as being lesser than - even within fandom. I mean, externally, people often disparage it as being a "stepping stone" to your own original work, or "good practice". People tend to think that fic doesn't require worldbuilding, or character work. I hate all that.

I just don't think it's true. You can give these characters the names of copyrighted IP, but that doesn't mean your understanding isn't unique or entirely original. I think the real world disparagement of fic is an effort to diminish the value of art that capitalism cannot commodify. And I think that spills over into the fandoms, too

I think fic is generally seen as something anyone can do. Anyone can write fic - as opposed to say, an artist, or a musician - and I think that that does a great disservice to so many people. First of all, the fact that there is a shadow ban on writers charging for work, but artists are fully expected to charge for commissions? That doesn't sit well with me. Not because I don't think artists shouldn't charge, but because I think that writers deserve just as much pay as artists do. Fic is the foundation of any fandom.

We discredit writing as easy partly because we've ALL been practicing writing since we were about four. So yes, of course it seems more accessible - most of us have been writing since toddlerhood! It's something we practice every single day. With every text message, every screaming comment, every tweet - that's writing. We are learning storytelling every day, with every joke, every headline, every movie, tv show, and book we read. We shouldn't be surprised at the number of people who are able to write - it's everywhere. But to devalue it as something that is easy, and less than (both in relation to other artistic fanworks, and to professional publications) is just...wrong. It's disheartening. Give everyone some credit. Fic writing is hard. And we should appreciate the time, skill, and dedication that goes into it, just as we do for any other art.

I think the benefits are huge - it's anti-mainstream, counter-cultural, and un-policed which like, where else are you going to find such fertile grounds for art these days. I think it allows people to engage with the things they love, I think it allows people to work through themselves, and their world. I think it's meant to be a safe and inclusive space, which is something we have to continually strive for. And I mean, reading it allows me to disassociate from the travails of customer service for multiple hours in a day.

I think there are conversations to be had about diversity in fandom. I think that for POC and LGBTQ and women it's a very complex thing that I am aware of but don't have the capacity or voice to fix. I think there's a strange imbalance in women (which I probably speak to most often when I feel capable of it because I can relate to that experience directly, however that doesn’t mean I think my experience is universal, or accurate, or anything like that. It’s just my experience. I’m not an authority on womanhood.) being the most prominent demographic, and slash being the most popular genre and the trauma of the real world asserting itself in strange ways in fandom - like, women don't feel less a minority even in fandom spaces. A lot of their writing, or their opinions reflect that. A lot of gay stories in fic deal with the stigma of being gay, or the sort of, like, counter-culturalness of it in a way that doesn't accurately reflect how it is within the fandom. I don't think ANY of that is something to be covered or solved in an interview like this, esp. since we're mainly focused on fic-writing specifically, but I am aware of them!

[wanderinginksplot]

Just for Kix

Next | Masterlist

Oaths

"Congratulations, men," Doctor Trask, the supervising physician, told them. "Now that you've passed your final assessment, you are officially medics for the Grand Army of the Republic. You may paint a medic's cross on your armor and you'll likely be asked to perform additional field duties, especially during and after combat."

The small group of men in the room smiled and looked at each other excitedly. The six of them had been working together for weeks, learning all of the necessary procedures and protocol to become medics.

Trask nodded once at them. "Dismissed."

"Are you going to ask?" Curl whispered to Kix.

"Excuse me, sir?" Kix asked loudly, stopping Trask in the middle of leaving the room.

"What is it, soldier?"

Kix fought not to show his disdain on his face. 'Soldier' was the only way Trask had ever referred to any of the men, despite having worked with the six of them for almost a full month.

"Well, sir-"

"That's Doctor, soldier," Trask snapped.

"Doctor, then," Kix repeated dryly, trying to ignore the snickers of the other men at his tone. Trask was not well-liked. "I've heard that civvie medical professionals take oaths to uphold the standards of the field. Do we do something similar?"

Trask snorted. He actually kriffing snorted. "Those oaths are for medical professionals."

"Don't tell me I've been in the wrong class all this time," Curl groaned, brushing a hand over his curly mohawk in fake distress. "My CO is going to have my shebs when he finds out."

"Oaths like the one you're talking about, soldier, are for people in the medical field with a life expectancy that is longer than a few months," Trask told Kix stiffly. "Dismissed."

And he left the room before anyone could say anything else. The other men began gathering their things while Kix was still staring at the spot where Trask had stood, silently fuming. More than a few of the other new medics cast sympathetic glances in Kix's direction, but they filtered out the room when he didn't respond.

"Are you gonna be okay, Kix?" Curl asked.

"We'll never be good enough for them, will we?" Kix asked. "I could cross-train into every hard skill and specialization that the GAR has to offer and the nat-borns would still look at me like I'm a droid they downloaded a new program onto."

"Not all of the nat-borns," Curl pointed out helpfully. "Just the ones we work with."

Kix gave him a look, not ready to find anything about the situation amusing.

Curl, good-natured as ever, just chuckled. "Come on, don't let some di'kut with an attitude take this away from you. From us. We're medics now, Kix. That's something to be proud of, even if we're the only ones who think so."

"You're right," Kix sighed. He didn't really feel much better, but he wasn't going to steal the experience from Curl just because of one bad experience. "Let's get out of here. We can go to 79s if you want."

"Hell, yeah!" Curl cheered. "We'll drink until you forget about Trask, then lecture every vod we see drinking too much."

That actually got Kix to smile as he agreed and they left the room.

"Finally," a voice sighed. "We didn't think you were ever coming out of there."

"Just because that hut'uun insulted you doesn't mean you should make us wait," another agreed.

From the voices, Kix was already prepared to see two brothers when he turned around, but something in the way the two were standing and talking made it clear that they shared a close connection. Kix was willing to bet that they were from the same batch, but the matching undercuts were a bit much.

"Shatter," the one on the left said in introduction.

"Sprain," said the one on the right.

"Curl," Curl said with a grin.

"And I'm Kix," he finished, unamused. "You said you were waiting for us?"

"You're the one who was asking about medic oaths, weren't you?" Sprain asked.

"Let us guess," Shatter said sarcastically. "Trask shut you down, told you that clone troopers are inferior and don't get to take medic oaths."

"Or some variation of that," Sprain added, a bit more sympathetically than the other trooper.

Kix gritted his teeth in an effort to keep his ire internal, so Curl answered for him. "That's exactly right. Told us clone troopers don't live long enough to need to bother."

"And what do you think of that?" Sprain asked.

"I think it's kriffing ridiculous, 'scuse my language," Curl told him.

The troopers looked at Kix then. "Do you agree?"

Kix gave a tight nod and Shatter grinned. "Good. Because we've got our own medic's traditions to uphold. The two of you are late to swear your oaths."

"Follow us," Sprain ordered.

"And if we don't?" Kix asked, more curious than malicious.

Shatter and Sprain glanced at each other. Sprain shrugged. "We can't tell you that you can't be a medic if you don't take the oaths, but no brother who finds out will choose you over someone who did swear, if you get what I'm saying."

"Are you gonna refuse?" Shatter asked sharply.

"Of course not," Kix replied. "I just wanted to know if it was mandatory."

Sprain and Shatter glanced at each other before breaking into matching grins. Shatter elbowed his brother. "Yeah, he'll fit in fine."

"Come with us and we'll talk about what being a medic really means," Sprain invited.

With their own shared glance, Kix and Curl followed the pair. Only a few minutes later, they found themselves in the underbelly of the GAR headquarters, standing in a darkened room that branched off from the system of pipes and wires that kept the building running. The other members of their class were there as well, looking just as uncertain as Kix felt.

"When is the right time to lie to a patient?" Sprain quizzed.

Kix frowned. "You should never lie to a patient."

Shatter fixed him with a stern look. "So if I was dying and there was no hope of recovery, you would tell me that? Let my last moments be filled with pain, fear, and hopelessness?"

"But Trask told us we should never lie to a patient, even if they are dying," Curl said hesitantly.

"Who cares what that di'kut said, we're talking-" Shatter cut himself off as Sprain made a disparaging noise.

"What my brother means is that Trask taught you the mechanics of being a medic," Sprain explained diplomatically. "We're here to remind you of the soft skills. Trask thinks that clones are nothing more than flesh droids, but we know better than that. In this case, it's more ethical to lie to your patient than to tell them there's no hope."

Kix could accept that as part of his own code. "Understood. What other advice do you have for us?"

"When possible, treat wounds as painlessly as possible, but let some things heal naturally if you have a trooper who won't learn," Shatter suggested.

"Don't be afraid to overrule a commanding officer who won't take care of their own health," Sprain told them.

Shatter squinted. "Never play favorites, especially if you have them."

Nodding at his brother's point, Sprain added, "Sometimes, regs are made to be broken."

"But never - ever - break the medic's code," Shatter emphasized seriously. "We can't stop troopers from being treated by you like civvie doctors do if they mess up, but we'll handle breaches ourselves if we have to."

"Are you ready to swear your oaths?" Sprain asked them.

Everyone nodded, and Kix and Curl both gave a quick salute in affirmation. The class repeated Shatter and Sprain's reverent recitations in a way they definitely hadn't bothered with Trask's teachings:

I swear to uphold this code, enforced not by generals, but by brothers:

I respect my training and will support my brothers who wish to follow in my footsteps.

I will treat my patients with necessary treatments, not exaggerating or denying treatment.

I know and remember that my behavior may help my patients, as well as harm them.

I can admit when I am wrong or do not know. I have resources who will help and I will be a resource to other medics.

I respect my patients and their free will. Each is a thinking being worthy of respect.

I know that I am not immortal. I treat others well and hope to someday be treated in a similar way.

"Finally," Sprain said with a note of finality, "do you agree to help Shatter and I swear in new medics whenever you are on Coruscant?"

"You don't have to, but it would help," Shatter cut in.

Amid the general murmur of agreement, Curl nodded. "I will, definitely."

"I'd be honored," Kix agreed, meaning every word.

---

A/N - This is a short companion series for Nobody Listens to Kix (full chapter list can be found on my masterlist at the top of the story). These are just some outtakes that didn’t fit the tone of the series, but all are completed and ready to be posted!

[gffa]

Hi!  I went through a similar phase as several of you--I never really connected the dots between my own aro/ace qualities and my gravitating towards the Jedi culture until someone else pointed it out and then everything just sort of clicked together in my head in a way that made so much sense. And I think it can be really useful to view the Jedi through this lens of aro/ace culture, not because people are obligated to agree to this interpretation (they absolutely are not obligated to do so!) but because it provides a framework of reference for why not being drawn to romance and/or sex is not a foundational flaw in characters.  That there might even be an entire group of people who find that to be really satisfying and fulfilling--I mean, look at how many people gravitated to this discussion (or were already here) in just one day on one person’s blog on one social media platform.  It’s not hard at all for me to think, yeah, I’m looking at us building aro/ace culture of our own, it’d be easy for an in-universe group of people to do the same, and the lack of romance and/or sex wouldn’t be them suppressing their feelings or lacking something fundamental about the human condition, either. That’s part of why the Jedi mean a lot to me--there are other things as well, I greatly value their “face the shit within yourself, acknowledge that shit, and then let that shit go, because holding onto it is poison that will hurt you”, as someone who came to the same conclusions long before I was ever a Star Wars fan.  I love the worldbuilding, I love the psychic space wizards aspects, I love how goddamned extra they are about everything, etc. But a culture that not only doesn’t prioritize romance/sex, but actively values other things and finds meaning in those things?  That we see they have friendships and connections all over the place, that they find joy and meaning in teaching their students (and learning from their students, just as much as they teach them), that they find joy in helping others and protecting others, that they love through different ways, that they love the galaxy around them, they love their brothers and sisters in the Force, that they love their community and their culture?  That they just don’t seem to really want love and romance? Even those that do feel romantic feelings (setting Anakin aside, of course) still find the Jedi path to be a fulfilling one.  Obi-Wan may have had romantic feelings for Satine (which was apparently fine, it’s about his commitment and where he places it, I’m pretty sure that was the whole point of the Obi-Wan/Satine relationship, to be a narrative foil for Anakin/Padme, where Anakin does prioritize his feelings for Padme over his morals and judgement, which results in disaster of epic proportions) but he is a fully realized character without them.  He loves--we see that with Qui-Gon, Ahsoka, Luke, Anakin--that he cares deeply, that he’s a compassionate person, that he lives a life that he considers satisfying.  He becomes a Force Ghost and we can see him looking out over Endor, at the things that have finally been set back to rights, and he’s happy. Even within canon, the Jedi that feel restless and like something is wrong in this galaxy, they’re not restless because they want romance/sex, but because they want to do more as Jedi.  They want to help more people, they want to do more good in the galaxy, and do you know how much that means to me?  That even those who are dissatisfied (setting aside those that leave the Jedi Order because they want to have romantic relationships, which are treated warmly by the Order and by the people who left, like Tula’s grandmother) don’t have to be shoved back into the same box so many mainstream properties shove the characters into?  That it’s not about how, oh, they want traditional nuclear families, but instead that they want MORE of what the Jedi are--more love as shown through service to others, more love as shown through helping others. Do you know what a relief it is to have a group of people who find fulfillment in the same kind of things that I do?  Friendships and helping others and learning/teaching about the galaxy around them and self-reflection/understanding and accomplishments the like?  That these are treated, not just as valuable, not even just as valuable, but more valuable to these specific people?  Without demonizing that they’re totally cool with other people wanting romantic love?  DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT MEANS THAT THE JEDI DON’T REALLY SEEM INTERESTED IN ROMANCE OR SEX AND INSTEAD FIND SATISFACTION IN OTHER THINGS?  THAT IT’S NOT ABOUT SUPPRESSING YOURSELF, BUT THAT PEOPLE SOMETIMES JUST REALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT THOSE THINGS.  SOMETIMES EVEN LARGE GROUPS OF PEOPLE. That the Jedi aren’t just “hey, this one Jedi can be read as aro/ace, that’s neat” but instead the Jedi said, “Hey, how about an ENTIRE CULTURE that vibes hard with aro/ace culture?”  That it’s the one mainstream culture that I can think of that really can be interpreted to say, “You’re not just an outlier, but YOU’RE THE NORM in this fictional society.”  Do you know what kind of value that has to me, as someone who only has the tiniest scraps of representation for this character or that character who maybe might be like me, but are rarely confirmed and are almost always The Different One?  Do you know what kind of value it has to me that it’s not just one or two of them, but that THE CULTURE ITSELF is where I would fit in?  That they built an entire society where nearly all of them seem to be Like Me? AN ENTIRE SOCIETY OF PEOPLE I WOULD FIT IN WITH? Which isn’t even getting into the worldbuilding specifics that are so much fun to play with--like, can you imagine what it would be like to have this psychic connection to this vast field of energy in the cosmos?  To be able to sense the feelings of others around you, to feel their presence even when they’re halfway across the galaxy, to just know what they’re feeling?  To be constantly surrounded by the lights of those souls that are gently nudging up against your own?  The warmth and peace of the Jedi Temple that isn’t just what you see/hear/touch, but also what permeates your very thoughts, the soothing balm on your soul that it would be? Can you imagine what it would be like to have this in your head all the time?

A familiar sense of warmth, of belonging, of finding himself part of an endless lattice of connections that held him and everything else, each fixed in its proper place.  A Force. Romance and sex can be wonderful.  But they are not the sole defining qualities of what it means to be sentient or what it means to be fulfilled.  The Force being described as an endless lattice of connections and warmth, that sounds incredibly wonderful and human to me, that sounds incredibly fulfilling and like everything I could possibly want. That is what the Jedi seek and have found.  That is the foundation of their culture.  That is the culmination of their lives. This is why their relationships are so wonderful and I’m so glad that the iconic Jedi relationships, whether we as fans turn towards shipping them or not, whether we joke about how much you can read into them or not, are ones that are all about other aspects that are just as epic and important. Obi-Wan’s most iconic relationships are with Luke, Anakin, Qui-Gon, Ahsoka.  They’re all incredible ones and it’s not to disparage his feelings for Satine (I love them as a pairing, too!), but that his character is defined more by familial and platonic relationships being just as galaxy-shaking as romantic ones might have been in another story?  That means a lot to me. Anakin is, of course, driven by his romantic relationship with Padme, but think about how important his relationships with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are, ones that don’t have to be seen through the lens of romance.  That the ultimate climax of the prequels was Anakin’s fight with Obi-Wan, a familial connection.  That the ultimate climax of TCW was about Ahsoka’s relationship with Anakin, another familial/platonic connection. Ahsoka is a rising star in the SW franchise and her most iconic connections are with Anakin and Rex, both of which do not have to be interpreted through the romantic/sexual lens, that are complete just as they are presented.  That even when she can no longer be a Jedi, even when that possibility is stolen from her, she still doesn’t need to be defined through romance or sex. Yoda has many important, iconic relationships and is such a central character to the mythos and mythology of Star Wars.  His relationship with Luke is one of the most foundational of the OT, his relationship with Obi-Wan is important when you dig further into the supplementary material, his relationship with Anakin creates some of the most memorable scenes of the prequels.  All without ever having him desire a girlfriend.  Hell, the movies had Yaddle right there and you know what?  She wasn’t Yoda’s girlfriend, he wasn’t her boyfriend, that’s not what they were to each other, because they didn’t really seem to have any desire for that. THAT’S ONE OF THE REASONS I LOVE THE JEDI.  They show compassion and care and love all over the place, but they do it through George Lucas’ views on how people should strive to be, and they do it not through romance, but through friendship and helping others and seeking greater understanding of self-knowledge and artistry through the Force, and none of that should ever make them lesser, just as aromantic and asexual people seeking those same things does not make them lesser. We are people who love just as much as anyone else, we have fulfilling and wonderful lives, I don’t know any aro/ace person who would really even want to change themselves, we find ourselves to be perfectly fantastic the way we are.  I don’t feel some part of me is missing, I don’t feel I’m less interesting because I’m aro/ace, I love being the way I am.  I love how much my friends and family mean to me, I love how much joy I get out of caring for animals or helping other people or even simply yelling about Star Wars with them.  My connections to people are just as wonderful as anyone else’s, regardless of how they’re not in the romantic/sexual category. And, so too are the Jedi.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Eleven

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Eleven: Confrontation

The royal mausoleum was dim and a little dank; the solid stone walls and the flickering torches did little to keep out the dark chill of death.

Adrien led the way down into the crypt where the kings and queens of the past slept underneath the floor tiles and life-size statues in niches along the walls were the chief markers of which tenants rested where.

Luka found himself more than a little unsettled. He was just waiting for one of the statues to move, and he could swear he felt their eyes on him.

Adrien, however, made his way through the tomb seemingly unbothered by the images of his deceased forebearers. He also appeared to know exactly where he was going, quickly heading to the end of the row.

Luka guessed that Adrien had been to visit his mother many times over the years and was well accustomed to the place.

“Maman,” Adrien breathed, voice filled with emotion as he went up to the statue of a lovely young woman posed seated on a stone bench. She smiled tranquilly, her sightless eyes giving off a dreamy quality.

Adrien sank to his knees at her feet, placing his hand on top of her folded ones and resting his head in her lap.

“I missed you,” he whimpered. “It was so hard not even having a picture of you. I was afraid I was going to forget your face just like I’m forgetting your voice.”

Luka bit his lip, tempted to go kneel beside Adrien and wrap his arms around his mate to hold him together. At the same time, though, he didn’t want to interrupt the clearly personal moment.

Before Luka could decide, Adrien regained his composure and rose to his feet, turning his attention to the statue standing behind his mother’s with his hand possessively resting on her shoulder.

Luka had no trouble recognizing King Gabriel from the portrait Adrien had pulled out of the desk drawer in his mother’s room the night before. Surprisingly, Gabriel’s statue didn’t look new. It showed the same wear and weathering as his wife’s, indicating that the King had probably ordered the two made as a pair when the Queen had died.

“Father,” Adrien levelly addressed Gabriel’s imposing image as it scowled severely in judgment. “…I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye…. I’ve regretted that, but you made me feel trapped, so I didn’t think I had the option. I had to escape while I could without looking back. I hope you can at least appreciate the decisiveness of my actions.”

Predictably, Gabriel made no reply.

Adrien took a step back with a sigh, now addressing both parents as he continued, “I’m sorry that I was never really the son you’d hoped for. I’m sorry for all the disappointments.”

He then turned to look at Luka, holding out his hand for his husband to come take.

Luka swiftly answered the entreaty, coming to stand by his mate’s side, holding his hand as they presented a united front.

“I think you two always knew I wasn’t interested in women,” Adrien snorted softly. “Maybe you knew even before I did and that’s why you always said disparaging things about people who experience homosexual attraction. Maybe you thought it was some kind of choice I could un-make or an urge I could fight if I were strong enough…but it’s not.”

Luka inched in closer so that his shoulder pressed supportively against Adrien’s.

“I tried,” Adrien pleaded, his voice strained by building tears. “I tried really hard to be the son and heir you wanted. I just couldn’t make myself, quote-unquote, ‘normal’…and I’ve learned now in the past six months that that illusory ‘normal’ doesn’t exist. I don’t have to fix myself,” Adrien asserted, the tears leaving his voice to be replaced by strength and conviction.

“There’s nothing wrong with me that needs fixing. It’s okay to be gay. It’s actually something really beautiful and special…something that makes me me,” he tried to explain as a sad-but-daring-to-hope smile shyly tilted up the corners of his lips. “And I’ve found someone who loves and treasures me just the way I am.”

He nervously smiled at Luka before looking back to his parents’ statues. “Maman, Father…this is Luc…my husband.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesties,” Luka greeted, crossing his left arm over his chest and inclining forward into a slight bow, not really sure what the protocol was for meeting deceased royal in-laws.

“Maman, you would have loved him,” Adrien insisted excitedly, but then his expression sobered, and he amended, tempering his remark, “…at least…I’m sure you would have loved him if you could see past him being fae and married to your son.”

Luka squeezed Adrien’s hand, signaling that he was right there beside Adrien no matter what.

“I hope you would have eventually seen past all that,” Adrien added softly. “He takes good care of me, Maman. He’s a good person, and his love and support help me get a little closer to my full potential and being the person I want to be,” he testified, praying that his assurances would have been enough if she’d still been living.

“I have the kind of love you told me fairy stories about, Maman,” he informed her pleadingly. “Please don’t despise me just because I couldn’t find that kind of happiness with a mortal woman.”

Next, Adrien turned back to his father, a wry smile sliding into place on his lips as he chuckled, “Sometimes you did things that made me think, ‘See? He really does love me after all’. …I know you would never approve of this marriage,” he admitted with a melancholy shake of his head, “but there’s a part of me that hopes that my happiness with a fae man wouldn’t kill that little spark of affection you felt for me.”

With a tearful choke, Adrien retreated into Luka’s arms, burying his face in his mate’s chest. “I guess we’ll never know, though.”

Luka shook his head in disagreement, insisting, “They would have come around. Maybe they would have resented me for a while, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have approved of our union, but, after some time passed, they would see how happy we are together. They wouldn’t be able to begrudge a marriage that made their son happy.”

“I think you’re a bit too naïve, My Love,” Adrien sighed, but Luka’s assertions did make the tears stop. “My world can be cruel and uncaring.”

“Yes, but I refuse to believe that any parents who managed to produce a sweet, compassionate, loving person like you could reject their son because of who he loves,” Luka continued to fight Adrien’s assumptions.

“…Maybe.” Adrien finally allowed the possibility to germinated and take root in his mind. “Maybe they would come around after a while.”

“You’d win them over eventually,” Luka assured, squeezing his beloved tightly, happy to see Adrien through all the ups and downs that came with facing the demons of the life he’d left behind.

 Once Adrien regained his composure and bade his goodbyes to his parents, they headed back to the Queen’s chambers where they found Alya and Nino waiting for them, making themselves comfortable in the sitting area of the room on the settee.

“Dri!” Alya trilled in delight when she saw him, scrambling to her feet and dashing across the room to envelope him in a hug that knocked the air out of his lungs.

“It’s good to see you, Alya,” Adrien chuckled as best as he could without the benefit of oxygen. “Thank you for coming.”

She pulled back so that she was at arms’ length, holding him by the biceps to study him better. “Sunshine, you never told me you were the crown prince of the Kingdom of Agreste!” she accused.

Adrien shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. “I mean…you knew I was a prince. I told you that.”

She rolled her hazel eyes and snorted impatiently. “Yeah, but you took Luc for your mate—no offence.”

Luka smiled wryly, lifting and lowering his eyebrows in a manner that clearly stated that he was used to this kind of abuse and didn’t take it to heart.

“I thought you were the prince of some backwater, no-name kingdom,” Alya explained, “but here it turns out that you’re, like, the prince!”

“Technically, he’s the king now,” Luka pointed out helpfully.

A blush of embarrassment sparked to life on Alya’s cheeks, and her lips rounded into an “O” as she remembered the whole reason Adrien had come to the palace in the first place.

“I’m really sorry about your father, by the way,” she offered sheepishly, suddenly feeling bad for the way she’d been gossiping just the day before about the news of King Gabriel’s death and what the kingdom was going to do what with their prince missing.

She remembered the way she’d caught wind of the Queen’s death six years prior and had spent a prodigious amount of time and energy feeding on the conspiracy theories surrounding it. All at once, she felt ill because she’d treated her dear friend’s tragedy as a form of entertainment.

“I’m really sorry, Dri,” she repeated it earnestly, knowing as she squeezed his arm in support that she could never make any of it up to him.

Adrien nodded, looking down at the floor as he whispered a tired, “Thank you.”

Luka and Nino were at his side at once, resting comforting hands on shoulders and giving his hair loving tussles.

A thin smile spread across Adrien’s lips, and he looked back up at Alya with a deep weariness in his eyes. “It’s been difficult, but I’m making it through somehow. Having Luc by my side has been a blessing.”

Alya nodded, feeling awkward and, for once, unsure of what to say.

“But let’s focus on happier things, shall we?” Adrien forced himself to smile wider, trying to inject an air of levity into the conversation. “Did you hear about the wedding and the coronation scheduled for this evening?”

Alya’s eyes lit up, and she latched onto the new topic with unfeigned enthusiasm. “Oh, yes! I was just pumping Nino for information when you came in. It sounds so exciting! The pomp and the ceremony and the big feast afterwards!” She gave a vulpine bark of delight. “I wish I could see it all for myself. I’ve always dreamed of human celebrations like this.”

“You can come,” Adrien informed with a shrug that suggested it was as nothing for him to make her wildest, most cherished dreams come true.

“Really?” She almost stopped breathing.

Adrien nodded and shrugged again. “I’m king. If I say you can come, you can come, and if anyone has a problem with that, they can get over it because my word is literally law,” he assured, taking a heady pleasure in his newfound control. “…I mean, until I can foist the leadership of this kingdom upon someone else, but…”

“I would literally die of happiness,” Alya whined, near tears as she squirmed in excitement.

“Nino will have to chaperon you,” Adrien laid out the conditions.

“I can do that,” Nino gladly volunteered, looking forward to having more time to chat with the interesting fae woman.

“Just for safety,” Adrien explained. “My subjects can be a little…backward…when it comes to issues of embracing diversity. Some of them might be a bit uncomfortable if they knew you were a fox spirit, so I think it’s best if you stay close to Nino so he can help you out and keep you safe.”

“No complaints here!” Alya assured chipperly.

“And we’ll have to see about getting you a suitable dress for the event so that you fit in,” Adrien continued, voicing items of concern as they came to mind. “Nino, could you take her to see Marinette about that?”

Nino gave a snort, shaking his head as he grinned. “Marinette is going to kill you.”

Adrien waved away Nino’s assertion. “Marinette won’t kill me. Marinette loves me. She’s got at least twenty dresses just sitting around that she could make some quick adjustments to for Alya.”

“Marinette is going to kill you,” Luka snickered, imagining the seamstress’s face when Nino arrived with the request from the young king, her eyes bloodshot from working through the night on the coronation/wedding outfits. “She’s going to be livid.”

“It’ll be fine,” Adrien insisted, unconcerned. “I have faith in the supernatural abilities of my Royal Court Seamstress. There’s a reason she’s the youngest person ever to hold the title.”

“There will be shrieking,” Nino chuckled. “She’s going to take me by the shoulders and throttle me in your place.”

“You’ll survive,” Adrien promised with a wink, going over to where the decadent breakfast Alya had brought was spread out on the coffee table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m starving.��

“You’re going to be able to hear the shrieking all the way in town. People are going to think a demon has descended upon the land,” Nino muttered resignedly.

“They already think that about me,” Luka hummed as he followed Adrien over to the sitting area.

Alya arched an eyebrow in confusion. “How could they confuse you with an oni? Have they never seen one before? Don’t they have picture books? Didn’t you tell them you’re a kelpie?”

 By the time Adrien and Luka returned from their morning out and sat down to breakfast, the rest of the castle inhabitants were starting to get up and move about, getting on with their day.

Nathalie soon appeared to give them their first briefing of the day, and then it was a flurry of servants and advisors coming in and out, checking about this, asking about that, all working together (or at odds with one another) to prepare for the day’s events.

It reminded Luka of watching his mother in action at a town hall where everyone gathered to make their concerns and desires known. It boggled Luka’s mind how many different decisions Adrien had to make, how many people’s concerns he had to deal with, all the orders there were to give.

Luka wondered if the daily life of a king was always like that or if it were just because of the last-minute nature of the wedding-slash-coronation.

Everyone seemed to be in a rush, and everyone was vying for Adrien’s time and attention.

“I hate you,” Marinette announced as she came in just after noon for a fitting.

“You love me,” Adrien corrected, encircling her in a warm hug.

“No, I really think I hate you,” Marinette snorted, even as she squeezed him back. “I love Alya, however, so I’m definitely keeping her. I’m not so sure about you.”

“Were you able to find a dress that could be modified for her?” Adrien inquired as they pulled apart and Marinette went to the rack she had brought in to get the garments for Luka and Adrien to try on.

“Yes, I actually have a gorgeous orange dress that’s going to look ravishing on her. I did the measurements and marked it up for alterations. Manon’s working on it now,” Marinette informed.

“Nino’s going to faint when he sees her,” Luka hummed happily. He had been pleased with the chemistry between them that he had witnessed during breakfast, and he had high expectations for Alya in formalwear.

“Are you shipping them now?” Adrien snickered as he accepted the garment bag from Marinette.

“Nino is a good man; he deserves happiness, and I think Alya could be a good fit,” Luka replied with an innocent shrug, as if he weren’t actively scheming to get them together.

“I’m in favor of this pairing,” Marinette reported. “Nino’s been a mopey mess since you’ve been gone, leaving him with no one to moon over. If you’re going to be going back home to the fair folk before long, it would be nice if he had someone to take a romantic interest in so that he didn’t feel so lonely.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, feeling guilty. “It would be nice if he had someone. I don’t want him to feel left out, especially now that both of us are going to have partners.”

“He’ll find the right person in time,” Marinette tried to assure with an encouraging smile. “Nino is a great guy; he’s bound to find love…so go on and try your suit out, and don’t worry so much about Nino.”

Adrien nodded, going behind the screen to change.

Luka nearly overheated when Adrien came out wearing a three-piece suit. The jacket was a long, royal blue tailcoat with striking silver embroidery tastefully done down the front of the jacket and around the sleeves. White pants and an ascot completed the look, and, as much as Luka loved his husband in his everyday clothes, Luka found that expensive clothing really suited Adrien.

“I think he’s speechless,” Adrien chuckled, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Excellent job, Marinette.”

“I don’t know if I can really take the credit,” Marinette snickered. “My suit wouldn’t be half as stunning if you weren’t smoking hot.”

“True,” Adrien laughed, giving a spin to make the coattails fan out.

Luka gulped.

“All right.” Marinette gave Luka a clap on the back as she pushed a second garment bag into Luka’s arms. “Your turn, if you think you can walk.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Luka cleared his throat and held the garment bag in front of himself to preserve his modesty as he slunk uncomfortably across the room to the changing screen.

His own outfit was nearly identical to Adrien’s saving for the colour scheme which was inversed. Luka’s jacket and vest were white while his pants, ascot, and the embroidery on his jacket were a beautiful blue to match Adrien.

“If you need help putting anything on, just ask,” Marinette called out helpfully. “I’ve dressed plenty of people in my line of work, so you won’t scandalize me or anything. Most nobles have people who dress them, so it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m good, but thank you very much,” Luka assured as he fought a little with the innumerable buttons.

When he was content that he looked presentable, he stepped out from behind the screen and was more than satisfied with the effect his appearance had on his mate.

Adrien’s eyes dilated, and his mouth dropped open slightly as a hearty blush spread across the bridge of his nose from one cheek to the other.

Luka zeroed in on Adrien’s throat as he swallowed hard.

“Marinette, if you don’t mind, I think I need half an hour alone with my husband to discuss important marriage stuff,” Adrien informed as he strode across the room, grabbed Luka, and dipped him into a hungry kiss.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Marinette protested with an exasperated huff, watching futilely as Adrien pulled Luka back up only to escort him over to the bed (stealing breathy kisses the whole way) and push Luka down onto it.

“Adrien, I swear, if you harm so much as a button on those outfits, I will assassinate you myself,” she growled, lamenting the fact that she had done too good of a job making both grooms look incredibly handsome.

“I love you, Marinette, but get out,” Adrien hummed happily. “That’s an order.”

Stewing and clenching her fists and jaw, Marinette stormed towards the exit, threatening over her shoulder, “Don’t you dare rip his clothes off with your teeth, Adrien! I will kill you. Take them off like civilized people and hang them up on the rack in their bags. Then copulate like bunnies. I don’t care, but don’t you dare—”

Marinette nearly got hit by the door as Nathalie entered the room.

“—Oh! Lady Sancoeur! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Marinette hastened to curtsy.

Adrien rolled off of Luka with a startled yelp, looking very much like a chastened schoolboy caught by his mother.

“…Am I interrupting?” Nathalie inquired blandly, her eyebrow arching upwards.

“Marinette was just making sure our clothes fit for the ceremony,” Adrien explained sheepishly.

Luka—who had been inoculated to this brand of embarrassment by being walked in on by or walking in himself on his mother, Rose, and Juleka—tried to stifle his laughter and an amused grin with varying degrees of success.

Adrien was adorable as he blushed and fidgeted nervously.

Luka leaned in and pressed a comforting kiss to his temple. “Everything seems to fit wonderfully, so we were just about to change back into our regular clothes until it gets closer to time for the ceremony,” Luka added to lend Adrien’s story credibility. “Marinette is truly amazing to have completed such a daunting task so quickly and so well. I’m extremely impressed.”

“Oh, well,” Marinette laughed bashfully, breaking out into a wide grin of pleasure at his lavish praises. “I couldn’t have done it without the help of my team. I’m very lucky to work with many talented people I can trust implicitly.”

“And we’re very lucky to have you to lead them,” Nathalie added, nodding her approval (a rare commodity).

Then, Nathalie was back to business, getting to the point. “The rings have just arrived from the jeweler, and we need to make sure they fit and meet with your approval so that there’s enough time to make corrections, if there are issues.”

“Oh. Right,” Adrien responded as one coming out of a reverie. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips as he got up and came over to inspect the rings which Nathalie had fished out of little satin bags.

“Sorry. I know we talked about getting rings for the ceremony this morning, but…” He nervously began to twist the ring Luka had made for him around his finger.

It didn’t feel right to replace it or even to take it off. His subjects might not consider the ceremony that Anarka had officiated at or the private rituals Luka and Adrien had exchanged in their room that first day they committed themselves to one another to be legitimate or legally binding, but Adrien did.

The makeshift ring Luka had placed on Adrien’s finger that day was a real wedding ring to him, and it felt wrong to renounce it like this.

Luka came up behind Adrien, wrapping his arms around him to give him a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, My Love,” he assured, gingerly taking Adrien’s hand and slipping off the ring, moving it over to the ring finger of Adrien’s right hand. “It doesn’t really matter which finger it’s on, does it? Isn’t the important thing that I put it there?”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully, studying the effect of this new placement.

“…Yeah,” he finally sighed, nodding decisively. “I guess you’re right, but this is only for the ceremony. Tonight, we’re switching them back. My real wedding ring gets pride of place.”

“As you wish,” Luka easily agreed, letting Adrien switch Luka’s ring from his left hand to his right as well so that they could try on the new rings.

Luka reached out for the one that Nathalie indicated was Adrien’s but then stopped, looking uncertainly at the advisor. “I remembered to tell you about my iron allergy…right?”

Nathalie gave him the vaguest hint of a smile as she assured, “You did, and I triple checked with the jeweler, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you.” Luka smiled nervously as he hesitantly picked up the ring, poking it with the tip of one finger first to test it before taking hold of it with confidence.

Both of the rings fit comfortably, and the fitting ended without incident.

Marinette finished inspecting both outfits and identified small details that could be improved while Nathalie gave the boys what felt like their dozenth briefing of the day.

Even after Nathalie and Marinette were both satisfied and left, that didn’t end the whirlwind of people coming in and out of the Queen’s chambers, needing Adrien’s approval or input on this or that.

Luka felt like he barely had time to breathe as the day quickly slipped away and, suddenly, it was time for the ceremony.

[sometimesrosy]

Hello again lol I would also like to have your opinion on something. This debate between some Bellarke shippers who said that Bellamy was OOC in the s5 compared to certain choices he made (including the fact that he's with Echo, or that he put the ship in Madi) vs some anti Bellarke who said that Bellamy in the S6 was OOC because he left his family behind to save Clarke and spent his time mourning and saving her at all costs. [1/4]

[2/4] Again I'm mixed because I understand the motivations of Bellamy behind each of his actions( i try ) We know that he matured thanks to what Clarke told him (the heart and the head) and also what he learned from his traumatic experiences on the ground. (the choices and decisions he made) he found a balance between listening to his heart and making thoughtful decisions. So all this results in the bellamy that we see in season 5.

[3/4] But except that one thing that changes everything is that Clarke is alive, he spent 6 years keeping a memory of her and to grieve. And there she is, she's breathing, she has adopted a child ! It's a lot to digest. I think it's normal that he tries to reintegrate Clarke into his life and that they are not in phase right away.

[4/4] and sorry but it seems obvious that the answer is that he's in love with her, he has a girlfriend and care about her, but the fact remains that he loves Clarke more than echo and it's not something that I made up in my mind, there are directly several comparison between Clarke and Echo! Thanks to read all of this, really want to have your opinion about this. And know that i'm not the only one to think that Bellamy wasn't OOC in s5 and s6.

+++

I tend to agree with you about your interpretation. How a character feels is generally a matter of interpretation, because even if it’s stated in canon, there are lots of reasons that it might be qualified or even untrue. A person can say they love someone, and they can be lying to them, or lying to themselves, or love someone only to a certain degree, or love someone else more, or love someone to the best of their abilities which are not high, or love them and think that means wanting to control them, or love them and wanting to destroy them, or love them like family or WHATEVER.

So everyone gets the opportunity to decide what those feelings, even canon feelings, mean. And then when they don’t SAY outright how they feel, but instead we are SHOWN how they feel by the way they treat other people. Well, of course it’s up to interpretation.

What does it MEAN to be loved or to love someone. It means a million things to a million different people and it can change over time and none of this means it doesn’t exist.

What is love is a question that we do not really have definitive answers to, and the more complex the story, the more complex the love depicted is. This is NOT a disney story, where good people are loved and bad people get their just deserts. Or where love is 100% good. Or sure. Or you can only love one person, period, and nothing else is real. It’s COMPLICATED. 

The truth is that Bellamy loves Clarke AND he loves Echo AND he loves his family/friends AND he even loves humanity.  What does that all mean? We want a clear cut answer to the question but even BELLAMY doesn’t have a clear cut answer to the question.

HE DOESN’T FREAKING KNOW HOW HE FEELS.

How do we know he doesn’t know? Well. He waffles. One moment he’ll give up everything for Clarke, the next he chooses Echo to stay with. One moment he’s angry at Echo for not being Clarke, the next moment he realizes how unfair that is. One moment he’ll claim Echo as his people and leave Clarke out (or does he?) and the next moment he’ll leave all his people behind to save Clarke.

This is not out of character. 

It’s part of his character. Bellamy has always been a “heart” character, and his feelings have driven his need to protect people and keep them safe, but he has OFTEN been divided. He wants to leave, he wants to stay, he doesn’t care, he cares too much, he confines his sister, he lets her free. He hates Clarke no wait he loves her. He hates Echo no wait he loves her. He wants to kill all grounders no wait he wants to save them all. 

I think fandom has a tendency to declare characters OOC when they want to disparage canon, and take away someone’s story so they can put their own fanon in its place. But it doesn’t work that way. Even if a character is not perfectly consistent, that doesn’t erase canon.

And it isn’t OOC for a character known for his protectiveness, who vacillates on WHO he’s meant to protect, to be confused when the woman he used to love but has been mourning as dead shows up alive six years later. 

That’s IN character. That’s part of his journey. Yes he absolutely loves Clarke as he always has, even when he hated her, somehow. Does that mean he’s going to dump his girlfriend who has been his family for six years? This is the most ridiculous theory I’ve heard in this fandom. That it’s out of character for Bellamy to fall for his “enemy” when his ENTIRE character journey has been about facing his enemy (Clarke to start) learning to respect them, learning to understand them, learning to relate to them, learning to forgive them, learning to care for them and then protecting them.

THIS is Bellamy’s story. He’s done it with many characters. Clarke, Murphy, Raven, Finn, Monty and Jasper, Kane, the grounders, MW, and yes ECHO. HOW is this out of character??

It’s only out of character in season 5 if you erase all his character traits and his character arcs down to ONE trait and ONE arc, and that’s his feelings for Clarke and the romantic arc with her. And he’s only out of character in season 6 if you erase his feelings for Clarke and the romantic arc with her. Because that IS a part of his story. If you erase major story and character elements to fit your theory, then you are doing bad analysis. Sorry cats and kittens. Any erasure means you aren’t following the story. You can’t erase things, even if you don’t like them.

So when people are saying Bellamy is OOC in season 5 and/or s6, they are erasing his character journey and the narrative, and they FAIL in their theories, analysis and meta.

You are not wrong. They are. 

ERASING THE NARRATIVE MEANS YOU ARE INCORRECTLY INTERPRETING THE SHOW. It’s as simple as that.  Calling them OOC does not mean their behavior disappears. If you can’t figure out why they did what they did, honestly trying, then you simply don’t understand the character or story.

Reducing the story down to OOC or bad writing means your interpretation is crap and you’re not as good at this as you think you are. How do you fix this? Stop feeding your biases and pay attention to the story, whether you like it or not. Do not erase. Do not make up your own fanon when the canon doesn’t support your theory. Fanon is NOT evidence. 

[osleyakomwonkru]

The 100 and the Crab Bucket of Zero-Sum Heroism

This is a feeling I started to get during season 5, and season 6 has definitely confirmed it - since the start of season 5, there has been a definite bias in the writing and narrative framing of the show, designed to make Clarke and Bellamy - and only Clarke and Bellamy - the heroes of this piece, whether it is earned or unearned.

Now, one might say the story has always been about them. And to a point, that’s true. But what happens when your “heroes” have become so morally grey that they’re really just a light shade of dark?

Usually the answer to that would be “make them better”. Yet for some reason, The 100 has taken the complete opposite approach since the beginning of season 5 - there’s been a concerted effort to redeem them not by improving their own actions, but by vilifying others for crimes no different than their own (or even lesser crimes, or no crimes at all). Instead of building their “heroes” up, all they can do is tear others down.

Which brings us to the sociological concepts in the title that are applicable to this analysis:

Crab bucket syndrome is the concept of “if I can’t have it, neither can you” - put into the crab example, it describes how if one crab could escape from a bucket, the other crabs will prevent it from doing so, and thus they all die. In our case, that’s how if Clarke or Bellamy can’t be seen as “good”, then neither should anyone else, and everyone else should be tarred with an even darker brush in order to make them look better.

Zero-sum heroism - a zero-sum game is one in which there’s a fixed amount of reward, so if one person gets a lot, others get very little or none. Zero-sum heroism then would be the idea that there’s a fixed amount of heroism to go around, so for some to have it, others have to lose it.

Now, this is all in how the story is told, not in how the characters themselves act - this post isn’t a commentary on how the characters themselves behave (which is why I’m not tagging it as anti-anyone), but on how we, the viewers, are expected to view and then agree/disagree with their actions and words by the way the narrative frames them.

I started to notice this in season 5, because the target for tear down and villainization was Octavia. In season 6, it is still Octavia, but Raven and Murphy have also been added to the mix, in different ways, but with the same goal - exalting Clarke and Bellamy at the expense of others.

Raven 

With only two episodes to go, our favourite zero-G mechanic has had very little to do this season. She’s had two jobs - glorified chauffeur and Miss Morality. You’d think a character talking about morality and doing better should be good, right?

But that’s not how the narrative has cast her. By making this her main role of the season, the narrative frames her as a catty bitch for wanting people to be good. She’s unreasonable for not wanting Clarke to go on the first exploratory mission. She’s mean for calling Clarke out on her repeating course of bad choices. She has to be convinced to not revolt against the Primes and that they need the Primes’ knowledge to build their own compound, but this is Raven fucking Reyes and when has not knowing the answer to a problem ahead of time ever stopped her before? 

All the narrative has done to her has been to portray her as bad for wanting to be good, because her good conflicts with the narrative’s ability to exalt Clarke. At first I thought this was in preparation for a moral ladder knockdown - that is, that this season Raven’s going to be faced with one of those impossible choices, so that she’s knocked off her pedestal, as has been done to Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia in the past, but more and more I’m now thinking that it is in fact just to prop up Clarke. Which brings us to...

Murphy

Where this setup has Raven as Clarke’s foil, Murphy is likewise Bellamy’s foil - and this last episode really threw this into stark perspective. What Murphy is doing this season is exactly what Bellamy was doing last season - negotiating with the enemy in an attempt to peacefully save their people. Yet somehow the narrative wants us to believe that Murphy is wrong for doing what he’s done, but we were supposed to cheer for Bellamy when he was doing the same.

Yes, Murphy has some aspect of personal gain going for him, in the name of immortality for him and Emori, but I don’t believe that was his motivation. That was a pacifier. He was pretty sure that if he turned Josephine down that he was at risk of death, and he was right - he learned fast that Josephine was not afraid to kill people in pursuit of her goals. The only purpose the mind drives serve is camouflage - a way to put a “selfish” stamp on him, when everything he’s done has been to try and cut their losses in favour of peace, drives or no drives. Plus this last episode, he was working with them to find Josephine not because he gets that immortality, but because if he failed, the consequence would be Emori’s death.

Not to mention that all of this comes on Murphy just after he’s endured a traumatic near-death experience, which also plays into his choices, which brings us to...

Octavia

Octavia being cast as the villain (which was all tell and no show, as I talked about here), her PTSD and other mental illness being demonized (see here), and the horrible and hypocritical ways she’s been treated by the other characters is something I’ve talked about at length (here, here, here, here and here). And when I first planned this post, before S6, it was set to be only about Octavia, but I never got to it, and now as S6 is almost over, I saw that other characters fit in here as well. So as this post pertains to Octavia, you can also read the posts that were building up to this one in my series of how everyone failed her (here, here and here).

So with all of that meta already done, let’s get to the meat of how it applies here - by the end of season 4, Octavia’s star was fast on the rise. She saved the human race in a way no one else could. But the narrative sees a flaw to this - Octavia is the tritagonist, not the protagonist, after all, she can’t be more of a hero than the protagonist or the deuteragonist, since she’s a foil to both Clarke and Bellamy (see this post on the head, the heart and the soul) .

So what does narrative do? Make her fall from grace.

But for what? Making impossible choices to save her people? Clarke and Bellamy have done that. Being in charge of who lives and who dies? Clarke’s done that too. Even if you believe that the war against the prisoners was ill-advised (I personally don’t, see here) and something that could have been avoided - Bellamy has also done that.

(Not to mention how the war played out anyway - narrative tells us throughout the buildup to the war that it is something that Wonkru will lose, despite superior numbers and a sneak advantage, ergo why everyone was sabotaging Octavia’s plans. But they won the war in fifteen minutes once all of our protagonists were fighting on the same side, despite having lost half the army and the enemy knowing precisely where they were and when they were attacking. Clearly it was not unwinnable, it was only unwinnable as per narrative because it was Octavia’s plan, as seen here.)

There is nothing that Octavia has done that Clarke or Bellamy haven’t also done. Octavia’s only “crime” is being Octavia, and thus not someone who is allowed to have the hero narrative.

In case there’s any doubt about that, there’s how she’s been treated this season. At the end of season 5, she did what is expected of any repentant “villain” - try to sacrifice themselves, fail, then swallow their pride, step back and be a footsoldier for the good fight. Which is all that’s ever been asked of Bellamy whenever he’s done a Heel-Face Turn (in season 1, and again in season 3).

But that’s not good enough for this narrative. Octavia needs to be kept down. First by being excluded and beaten and abandoned. Then after beginning to find her peace (with no help or apologies from anyone who caused her to lose it in the first place), and in fact finding a peace she’s never had, she keeps having her past thrown into her face by her brother - and a past he wasn’t there to witness, at that, and likely doesn’t have all the facts on. But the narrative still allows him to judge her for something he doesn’t understand and didn’t witness. The narrative is also making her work for forgiveness and redemption, when it hasn’t demanded the same from Clarke or Bellamy (even when other characters have suggested that it should).

Clarke has been through the wringer this season (well, the episodes where she was present and conscious in her body) in terms of how she’s been treated by other characters, but narrative framing says that we should be sympathizing with her - and I’m sure that by the end of the season, all will be forgiven because of what she’s experienced this season. But she still hasn’t done anything to earn that forgiveness.

We are also supposed to believe - because he’s said so - that Bellamy has learned from his mistakes. But this season has shown that he hasn’t. Other people have had to talk him down from genocide twice. That doesn’t show the growth that the narrative tells us is supposed to be there.

With Clarke out of the picture as far as action goes for most of the season, and Bellamy wanting to go back to his emotional “kill everyone” solutions, it is no wonder that in order to preserve their sanctity as the protagonists of the show, that the narrative has had to throw even more people under the bus to accomplish that. I just question why. Why not treat all of the characters fairly? Why do some need to be disparaged for others to rise? Why not let everyone do better, and be allowed to do so without judgment? Those are some questions I’d like answered.

[empty-altars]

Okay, anon asked for Ellie Goulding’s Sixteen for the song prompt and then tumblr ate it. So, hope this serves the prompt!!  

The flat is dark and devoid of life when Zayn gets home from the gallery. He sighs heavily and drops his keys in the ceramic bowl next to the door. He kicks his shoes off and heads for the kitchen, weary down to his bones.

Zayn checks his phone for the first time in hours and sure enough there’s a message from Liam. He knows what it will say before he even opens it. “Recording session ran late, home after midnight :/”

This isn’t unusual. If Zayn didn’t know better he would suspect an affair, but he knows with bedrock certainty that Liam wouldn’t do that to him. They’re just both so busy these days. He feels like he sees his husband in passing, more roommates than partners.

If his 16 year old self, who couldn’t go more than a few hours without talking to Liam, could see him now, he would be appalled. It’s been 12 years together now and somehow they went from unable to keep their hands off each other to Zayn being unable to remember the last time they had sex.

It feels like their relationship is slowly slipping away from them, drifting away by degrees every day. Looking back he knows how they got here. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

Uni was them against the world, proving everyone who told them they married too young wrong. Their flat was tiny and they owned nothing new and survived on pot noodle most of the time, but they loved deeply and fiercely like they had something to prove.

After graduation they’ve gone from strength to strength in their careers, but their increased responsibilities have taken a toll on their time together. Between running the gallery and his own art, Zayn some days barely has time to sleep and he knows Liam’s the same with his recording studio. Forget sex, Zayn is hard pressed to remember the last time they took a meal together.

He idly twists his wedding ring as he waits for his leftovers to heat. How can he be married to someone and live with them and miss them so much? How do they fix this?

Zayn eats his food standing up in the kitchen, afraid if he sits he won’t be able to get back up again. He’s knackered. He almost always is these days.

His evening routine is performed by muscle memory and Zayn is half asleep by the time he peels off his clothes and crawls into bed. At some point Liam comes to join him and Zayn half wakes at the shift in the mattress and press of lips to his forehead but falls back into sleep immediately.

In the morning Zayn wakes to an empty bed, sheets cool and lonely. He stares up at the ceiling and blinks back tears. Missing Liam sits like a weight in his chest, aching and raw.

When he finally heads to the kitchen there’s an unopened box of tea with a sticky note on it. “Noticed we were out! Have a good day! Love you!” Zayn stares at the note and tries to keep from crying.

It’s little things like this that make him know for sure that a lack of love isn’t the problem here. Liam doesn’t even drink this brand of tea, but he noticed they were out anyway. He’s still thinking of Zayn, he just never sees him.

Zayn spends most of the day thinking on it. They’ve both put so much of themselves into their respective businesses, made them successful. They have money and no time to spend it. Zayn misses being broke and happy.

Louis shows up around lunchtime with sandwiches from the deli down the street. He rambles on about his latest show, sitting on the counter, heels repetitively hitting the cupboards.

“And then she called him an obstinate fucker and stormed out.” Louis trails off and gives Zayn a scrutinizing look. “Oi, what’s wrong with you today?”

Zayn takes a sip of his drink and tries to figure out how to sum up what he’s been feeling. Eventually he just shrugs and looks down. “I miss my husband.”

“Why? Is Liam out of town?”

“No,” Zayn says quietly. “I just realized how little we see each other. He’s up and gone before I wake up and comes home after I’m in bed. Or he’s in bed before I get home.”

Louis snorts. “Why are you acting like this isn’t something you’re in control of? Neither of you work for other people, you own your own businesses, just make time.”

“How?” Zayn asks, gesturing at the entirety of the gallery to signify how much work there is to be done daily.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Hire an art student part time or something,” he says somewhat derisively. “This isn’t rocket science. You don’t have to be here open to close every day. You’re doing well enough to hire a couple part time employees at least. You already pay me to run things when you’re doing your own art.”

Zayn feels a bit stupid. Louis is correct, of course. He’s been focused on making it successful and reducing expenditure for so long that now that it is successful he hasn’t thought of hiring extra help.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “But what about Liam?”

“Liam worships you,” Louis says with a laugh. “If you told him he could only work every other day until noon he would figure out a way to make it happen.” Louis gives him a sly look. “When was the last time you two fucked?”

“That is none of your business,” Zayn says primly. He slumps a little under Louis’ knowing gaze and admits, “Way too fucking long.”

Louis hops off the counter and dusts the crumbs off of himself. “Alright,” he says firmly. “I will finish up for the day. You go and plan some kind of surprise for your husband and tell him to have his flat arse home for tea.”

Zayn frowns. “Stop disparaging my husband’s arse. It is not flat.”

Louis makes an ‘if you say so’ face and takes the rest of Zayn’s sandwich out of his hands. “Get out of here. I’ll finish that for you.”

There’s no use arguing with Louis when he gets bossy like this so Zayn goes to gather up his things. He has to admit it’s a good idea. Anticipation flutters a little in his stomach and he tamps down on it. No point getting ahead of himself. Liam might not be able to leave early, after all.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he hugs Louis.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis dismisses, hugging him and then gently pushing him toward the door. “I’ll take good care of your baby. Go get laid.”

Zayn laughs for the first time in what feels like forever and heads out. He decides to cook since he has time. He can’t remember the last time he did that either. The grocer’s is on the way home and he formulates a menu in his head as he walks.

On the way he texts Liam since this whole plan hinges on his presence. “Can you be home by 7? I’m cooking.”

Zayn is halfway through shopping, getting more nervous by the minute, when he finally gets a response: “Yes,” is all it says.

He frowns at the stark message and puts his phone in his pocket when it vibrates again. He pulls it out to find a block of heart emojis filling the screen. Okay, that’s more like his nerd of a husband, he thinks, biting his lip so he doesn’t laugh out loud.

Everything seems brighter as he heads home, sunny and light to match his mood. He sings as he putters around the kitchen, chopping and frying and baking all of Liam’s favorites.

Half an hour before Liam gets home, Zayn carries everything up to the roof of their building. There’s a little communal garden up there, which was a big selling point when they were deciding where to live, but he can’t remember the last time they were up here.

The sun is low in the sky but it won’t set for another hour and a half or so. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not uncomfortable. He spreads the blanket and sets everything up.

Right at seven Liam texts, “where are you?”

“On the roof,” Zayn sends back.

Butterflies flutter up a storm in his stomach. He doesn’t think he was this nervous for their first date, even. But everything hinges on how Liam responds tonight. They can’t keep on like this.

Moments later the door to the roof opens and Liam steps through, still in the trousers and tshirt he tends to favor for his work wardrobe. The setting sun makes him look golden, highlighting his face. Zayn drinks in the sight of him for a long moment, starved for it.

“Come over here, Leeyum,” he calls.

Liam smiles boyishly as he sits down opposite Zayn. “What’s all this, then? Did I miss an anniversary?”

Zayn laughs. “No. You know you’re better with keeping track of dates than I am. You would know.” He considers bringing it up now but it can wait. “Would you like some wine?”

“Please,” Liam replies. He still seems confused but settles in, filling up a plate for him and one for Zayn, skipping the two items Liam loves but Zayn isn’t fond of.

It warms Zayn all the way through when Liam does little things to show he’s paid attention, that he knows Zayn in ways no one else does. Over their meal they chat about their day, tell each other funny things that have happened at work. It should always be like this, Zayn thinks.

Once they’ve finished eating and are on their second glass of wine, Zayn thinks it’s time. The sun is almost set and it’s gotten colder. He moves everything out of the way and scoots over to snuggle against Liam’s side.

“We should talk,” he says softly.

Liam stiffens against him. “What about?”

Zayn looks up at him and meets his eyes. “Us,” he says sadly. “We’re not working, Leeyum. We’ve been neglecting our relationship.”

Liam looks stricken but not surprised. “Are you leaving me?” he asks, voice cracking.

Zayn shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “But we can’t go on as we are.”

A relieved sigh escapes Liam’s lips and he slumps against Zayn. “Okay,” he says weakly. “You’re right. I know you’re right. Things haven’t been good for a while and I’ve been ignoring it.”

“Me too,” Zayn says gently, sliding his hand into Liam’s and squeezing. “This isn’t just on you, it’s both of us.” He stares at Liam for a moment. “I miss my husband,” he finally says in a small, sad voice.

Liam’s eyes squeeze shut and he tips his forehead to rest against Zayn’s. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Me too. I’m so sorry.”

Zayn brushes his lips against Liam’s. “You don’t need to be sorry. We didn’t do it on purpose, we just let life get in the way until we couldn’t see each other anymore for it.”

“You have a plan, don’t you?” Liam asks, opening his eyes. “You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t have a solution.”

“Technically Louis has a plan,” Zayn says with a small chuckle.

Liam rolls his eyes. “Of course he does. I just wish he weren’t right so much of the time. It’s annoying.”

Zayn pokes him in the side. “This time it’s going to save our marriage, so be grateful.” He smiles fondly at Liam. “We should have thought of it ourselves, honestly. It’s not complicated. I’m going to hire someone to help out at the gallery so I’m not there all the time. I’ll still fall down a rabbit hole when I’m creating, but most of the time I’ll be home at a reasonable hour. I’ll even take days off.”

Liam smiles back at him. “I used to love watching you paint. I haven’t done that in ages.”

“You’re welcome to any time,” Zayn says softly. “I would like you to.” He pauses for a long moment, nervous again. “So, that’s what I’m doing to commit to working on our relationship. What are you going to do?”

“I have staff,” Liam says solemnly. “I can put some of the workload on them. I’ll probably still have to stay late sometimes when a session runs over, but I can be stricter about leaving on time.”

“We both have to have one day off a week,” Zayn says firmly. “And four nights home in time to eat together.”

Liam cups Zayn’s face in his hands and kisses him gently. “I can do all of that. I want to do all of that.” He smiles when Zayn’s hands come up to cover his. “I think we both deserve a holiday together if we can manage it.”

Zayn moans slightly. “A holiday. I can’t even remember what that’s like.”

Liam laughs. “Well for our last one we didn’t see much outside of the hotel bed.”

“Oh right.” Zayn laughs and tilts his head. “I wouldn’t mind a repeat of that.”

Liam waggles his eyebrows suggestively, looking ridiculous. “Yeah? You want to spend exorbitant amounts for a room in a foreign country only to never leave it?”

Zayn laughs, loud and bright. He feels loads lighter than he did before. “Yes I really do,” he says, wrapping his arms around Liam’s neck. “And I think in a bit we should go back to our flat so you can remind me why that’s a good idea.”

“Why in a bit? Why not now?”

Zayn smiles indulgently and points up at the mostly clear sky dotted with visible stars. “Because right now I want you to hold me and look at the stars with me for a while.”

Liam chuckles and lifts Zayn into his lap, wrapping his arms around him. He kisses Zayn’s cheek and settles his chin on Zayn’s shoulder. “Remember how we used to do this in Uni? We’d sneak up to the roof of the art building and stargaze.”

Zayn laughs. “Remember how we almost got caught by security? Had to hide in a broom cupboard.”

“Hiding isn’t all we did in that cupboard,” Liam points out with a grin. “Had to cover your mouth with me palm.”

“That was fun, yeah,” Zayn says with a fond smile, snuggling back more firmly against Liam’s chest. “Remember after we first dating, before you moved in with us, and we watched that meteor shower together over the phone? You kept complaining that I had a better view in Bradford.”

“I think I complained that the view in Bradford was better, yes,” Liam says softly. “But I wasn’t talking about the meteor shower.”

Zayn looks at him with surprise. “Oh, you meant me.”

Liam squeezes him. “All I wanted was to see you every day for the rest of my life. Even back then.”

“Oh,” Zayn says softly. He turns in Liam’s arms to kiss him, slow and sweet. “I felt the same way. Still do,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

Liam looks at him with aching tenderness. “Me too,” he agrees. “I won’t let things get so crazy we don’t have time for each other again.”

Zayn nods. “Me neither.” He gives Liam a mischievous smile to lighten the mood. “I think I’ve gotten my fill of stars. You should take me downstairs now.”

“I love you,” Liam says with a laugh, palms cradling Zayn’s hips.

“I love you too, babe,” Zayn replies, eyes sparkling. “But I’m serious. Downstairs. Now.”

Liam makes a reluctant sound of protest. “But the dishes and the blanket?”

“Get them after your run in the morning,” Zayn suggests. “No one will be up here before then.”

“This is why you’re the brains of this operation,” Liam teases, standing up and taking Zayn with him.

Zayn happily wraps his legs around Liam’s waist. He’s not naive enough to think they won’t ever have problems again, but he’s certain they love each other enough, are committed to each other enough, to work through them. As long as they remember that they’ll be fine.

Zayn smirks and turns his head to whisper in Liam’s ear. “Go faster.”

[chasingshhadows]

RNM S01: A Progressive Review

I want to talk about diversity, representation, social issues, and the way Roswell New Mexico succeeds and fails in that particular department. It’s 2019 and we no longer live in a world where it’s acceptable to ignore the societal implications of the media we consume. That said, it’s also 2019, and Roswell is doing some things that place it far ahead of its peers in media in ways that make it an absolute pleasure to watch. Like honestly, I’m fucking thrilled with this show ok.

I’ve read and skimmed a lot of discussion about the ways in which RNM has failed to be this perfect paragon of progressive representation, and I’ve read/skimmed far less discussion – by both fans and TPTB – about the ways in which the show is trying to be better than its forebears.

However, there seems to be a wide divide between people recognizing the former and people recognizing the latter, and I very much believe it’s irresponsible to try to focus on either one without at least acknowledging the other. So I’m going to talk about those failures and successes, and I’m gonna zig-zag that line so that if you want to read about how I feel about one of those things, you’re gonna have to at least skim the other.

[read more]

I tried to be as concise as possible, but even so, this is rather long, mostly because I didn’t want to make several posts about this. I want to say what I have to say on the topic and then get back to the story because that’s really why I’m here.

Also to note: I understand – and I hope we all understand – that we are in the first season of this show. This means that they should have plenty of time to follow through on or fix many of the issues I will point out, but that also leaves room for them to torpedo many of the positives I’ll discuss. Just – please know that I know we’re only one season in, and anything could happen.

On lived race

This show does a fabulous job exploring how race intersects with these characters’ lives and how it plays an active role in shaping not only who they are, but how their story lines play out. With Liz & Arturo, their race – and immigration status – are openly discussed on screen and inform their decisions and how they present themselves to others, as well as how they are received by their town. This is, in fact, a major aspect of the first season arc/plot as a whole, not just as it pertains to Arturo & Liz (and Rosa), but as it pertains to all the characters, so it’s worth emphasizing.

With Maria, we see her discuss her race as a factor in her isolation from her hometown, as well as seeing how she owns it in the face of racist customers. With Kyle, we see his compassion as a fellow child of immigrants in treating Arturo off the books, and with his mother, we see her perspective on that situation based on her own experiences as a Hispanic immigrant. And with Mimi, we see, tho tangentially, how the intersection of her race and gender and the stereotyping around those have had a negative impact on her healthcare. Even what little we saw of Arizona was washed in her experiences as a Native woman, and her (rightful) disdain for white people.

On the other side of that coin, we have white characters, namely the three alien siblings, whose White Privilege plays an active role in their actions and how they conduct themselves. I know some people have frustrations that these three main characters were all cast as white, but I’ll be honest, after having seen 1.06 (Smells Like Teen Spirit), I would not have bought that any of these characters were a POC. Can you imagine a Black or Hispanic teen being thoughtless enough to frame a WOC – who also happens to be the daughter of a known undocumented immigrant – for the drug-induced vehicular manslaughter of two white girls and not expect the entire town to then turn on that family? Even as a teen, no POC would be race-blind enough to not have had that forethought. It would not be believable, without an immense amount of heavy lifting in the backstory, for a POC to have framed Rosa instead of either of the white women, to have made the decision to put her in the driver’s seat over the other two.

And in this way, the show also does an amazing job in showcasing how good, liberal white people can still be thoughtless where it concerns race. Especially at 17. The White Privilege of the alien siblings, and their lack of awareness of it, serves as a major negative driver of the show’s plot and is the root cause of much of the conflict throughout the first season. That’s real, that’s believable, and that’s important to show.

This, all of this, is vital in portraying accurate, true-to-life representations of how marginalized racial communities interact with each other and white populations, and also gives those communities characters they can point to that not only look like them, but also share their experiences – experiences which are unique to POC and also give white viewers a clearer picture of what it’s truly like to live in this country as a person of color.

On meaningful racial representation

I feel rather let down that the show didn’t follow through on Alex’s heritage in any of the meaningful ways that they did with the other POC on the show (see previous section). All of those characters had clear and explicit aspects of their narrative which centered their race as an part of their story – again, rightfully, as that is how it’s lived IRL. We got to see them express and experience their race as more than just the color of their skin. We didn’t get that with Alex. (or with Noah, but he’s a whole other story)

It’s particularly disappointing considering that Alex is the only POC on the show who passes (that we know of, ofc). Many people will be upset at my bringing this up, but it’s true and we should be talking about it. His ability to pass – the ability for anyone to look at him and not know immediately that he is of Native descent – does not in any way negate his POC identity. Not even remotely. Not a little bit, not at all. All it means is that as a POC, Alex has the ability to be spared from certain microaggressions experienced by others in his community. Not all, not even most, but some. But it also means that he is subject to microaggressions that others in his community will never experience – such as someone making disparaging comments about Natives as tho there aren’t any in the room, or by people assuming he’s “basically white” bc he looks white and erasing his heritage entirely. Those are experiences unique to his race that other Natives who don’t “pass” would never experience.

Roswell didn’t follow through on that this season. We saw no indication, other than the casting of his brother as a Native actor (which I was very pleased about, mind you), that Alex Manes is not as white as he appears. Portraying and giving accurate representation to POCs who pass is just as important as giving it to POCs who don’t.

On consent

WOW this show does a marvelous job at portraying how people should approach getting active and explicit consent from those around them. Active consent is so deeply ingrained in the foundation of this show that its absence is used as an indicator to the audience that something is very very wrong - and on more than one occasion. In order to pull that off, the show has had to set an abundantly clear standard for the type of consent that these characters should expect from each other when things are not horribly wrong, and that standard is appropriately high.

Max and Liz are the obvious duo with which this is explored. From the first, when Liz wants to kiss Max outside of the cave, he stops her because he’s concerned that her judgement may be impaired or impacted by the effects of his powers. He refuses to take advantage of that state, making a direct call to the behavior women wish we could expect from men when our own judgement may be impaired. This continues later when she asks to be left alone and he just immediately backs down and away, not pushing or persuading. He treats her word as law, as he should. We see even in his past, as a teenage white boy in 2008, that he consistently asked for Liz’s consent to even be in her presence.

We see it between Michael and Alex in very different but still very present ways. A lot of Michael and Alex’s communication is silent and, as such, so are their consent check-ins. Before their first kiss, you see Michael checking in with Alex, watching Alex’s body language as he approaches and making sure Alex is receptive before he goes for the kiss – and Alex is, clearly. Michael asks what Alex wants and Alex says that doesn’t matter while stepping toward Michael. Michael stops and looks at Alex and Alex continues to move closer, looking back and forth from Michael’s eyes to his lips. This type of silent communication and consent checks continues throughout the rest of the season, from the scene at the drive-in to the teenage scenes and on.

We also see clear attempts at getting explicit consent between Liz & Kyle, between Cam & Max, and even when Michael was guarding Maria at the gala (I can go get Liz if you want me to leave) and later when he approaches her following the events of 1.13.

This has honestly been so fucking cool to see like this, on a CW show especially, to see how easy and essential it is to get that consent in all situations. It’s an important representation that we don’t see laid out clearly enough in media today and I’m so fucking proud of Roswell for doing it so effectively.

On disability & erasure

This show started to do something that was really incredible in portraying one of the main characters as an amputee. We see his crutch, we see the way he moves with it, we see how he struggles with it, and we see how he is determined to life his life as an amputee, and not just despite it.

There was certainly plenty of room to improve in even that regard - specifically where it concerns coaching on exactly how a recent amputee might move their body and center their weight and whatnot, even, or maybe especially, if that person were trying to hide their struggle. But it’s clear that the show was trying to represent a type of character we don’t get to see often.

But then Alex loses the crutch. Rather suddenly and very cold turkey. This is not an accurate representation of how someone with a recent loss of limb would experience their recovery, no matter how much that person may want to hide it. Recovery takes time, it takes practice, and it includes bad days. We didn’t see any of that.

It's particularly frustrating considering the show gave themselves the perfect opportunity to do this transition far better and didn't take advantage of it. There was a six-week time jump between episodes 8 & 9. Had we seen Alex try to go without his crutch when he confronted Liz in ep 7, and then have to return to using it after the long day out, and again in episode 8 with his father - wouldn't it have been so amazing to see him collapse in his chair after Jesse leaves and rub his leg because he's been ignoring the pain all day in an attempt to intimidate his father? And then we could see him moving more independently after that six-week jump.

The show dropped the ball there, in my opinion. In a big way. That beautiful representation was given and then promptly taken away. And then the show set itself up perfectly to explore how the invisibility of disability can be experienced, and has not followed through on that at all. Quite literally the last indication at all that we get of Alex's amputation is Michael commenting on his having lost the crutch in episode 9.

One of the harsh truths of disability is that no matter how much one might try to ignore and hide that aspect of who they are, it will always be there and it will make itself known. It might be invisible to others, but Alex will experience it anyway, will be affected by it anyway. He may be able to do anything that anyone else can do, but he’s gonna have to work ten times harder at it. We should have gotten to see that.

This same problem of erasing disability happens with Michael’s hand in the last episode. Michael’s scars, what they prevented him from doing, how they affected his work - all of that was so important to see, and then he gets the unconsensual healing power of magic and suddenly he gets his happy place back. And as happy as I was as a Michael!Stan to see him find that, this sends a bad message, that people with disabilities just need to be “fixed” to be happy. And as I mentioned above and in other posts, it is wildly apparent that Max healing Michael’s hand without his consent is meant to be an indicator that Max is Very Not Okay and is a prelude to him literally going so mad with power that he kills himself to resurrect Rosa. That noted, from a representation standpoint, I wish another mechanism had been used to show that.

On unapologetic politicism

Roswell makes it absolutely clear where it stands on the political spectrum and who this show is for. This show exists in the post-2016 election, post-#MeToo era and it embraces that culture and does not shy away from being political, on everything from race, sexuality and misogyny to immigration status, gun control, and even research science. It uses context and even hero dialogue to make the audience aware of what is right and what is wrong on these topics, and it does so without ambiguity or nuance.

It (appropriately) paints ICE as the enemy of good, hardworking people in literally the first scene of the show. Liz starts ranting about being stopped because she’s Latina and I just did a little dance inside because Yaassss, these are my people. And the show doesn’t let up there - the shadow of ICE hangs over Arturo’s - and by extension, Liz’s - head the entire season in a way that makes the audience uncomfortable and angry on his behalf.

The show consistently, from multiple characters both in law enforcement and not, refers to undocumented immigrants, the homeless, and prostitutes as “the most vulnerable members” of society, and not as a scourge or a menace to that society. These are good, worthy people deserving of protection and justice. The show paints anyone who views differently as firmly In The Wrong, from the disgusting Wyatt Long to the self-righteous Sheriff Valenti.

The dialogue calls out everything from subtle racism in police descriptions to building a wall to #AllLivesMatter to fake news to the terrifying ease of buying a gun to homophobia to the president himself  - it does not hold back and it does not leave room for excuses or sympathy on the part of the more conservative characters.

Most of the dialogue on the show that wasn’t explicitly Alien-centric feels very organic in the ways that it makes offhand quips about immigration and racism and sexism and everything in between - that’s the way I and my friends speak and converse. That stuff just filters into our conversations about really anything because it’s always at the forefront of our minds. We call those things out when we see them and talk about idiots like they’re not sitting right in front of us (“I think that’s Hank speak for ‘he wasn’t white.’”) There aren’t a lot of shows that nail that so perfectly and the only one that’s coming to mind at the moment is Dear White People, which was the first I saw to pull this off so well.

This is media that doesn’t try to paint a picture of “there are good people on both sides.” This media isn’t playing middle ground, or trying to please everyone. It’s making a statement in these choices and it doesn’t shy away from pissing off toxic people - this media isn’t for them. Most popular successful media (*cough* MCU *cough*) achieves that status by very carefully toeing the line between left and right, by using subtext to attract progressive viewers while keeping the explicit storyline clean and moderate. Roswell doesn’t do that - its progressivism is explicit and unmissable, as it should be. And that makes it, truly, an absolute joy to watch.

On Maria’s arc

Maria DeLuca did not start this season as an extension of Michael’s - or anyone’s - storyline, and I’m incredibly frustrated that, narratively, that’s how she ended it. That’s easily my biggest disappointment regarding the season as a whole, exaggerated by the fact that Maria is a black woman and because of that, her storyline carries more weight than many of the others. This post does a good job of discussing why POC rep matters more, and while it focuses on race-bending (which this show has also done with Maria, in a positive way), I think it still makes the point that Any POC Rep will just always hit harder, good or bad.

When that Rep is good, it’s fantastic. When it’s bad, it’s terrible.

And for most of this season, it was hitting very very good well. Maria throughout most of the season was this fierce, beautiful firecracker of personality and suppressed issues. She had a history and a deep well of issues both pre- and post- the loss of one of her closest friends, followed by the physical separation from her other two best friends. She’s got an amazing relationship with a mother who is slowly losing grip and slipping away from her. Those things, how they shaped her, and how they expressed themselves made her relatable, tangible, and easy to love.

That was actually one of my favorite parts about her hooking up with Michael, that these were main characters seeking comfort and distraction in one another, rather than just with throwaway characters. Maria is her own person with her own story that we had already seen explored as an independent arc from any of the other main characters

However, that arc never quite got the same attention as Kyle’s or Alex’s and certainly not as much as Liz or the Pod Squad. A lot of that likely has to do with her ignorance of the alien presence in the town (which appears to be coming to a close, but I won’t speculate on that) and that makes sense, narratively. As she couldn’t be actively involved in pushing the alien mystery plot forward, there was only so much the show could do with her, and I think they did take advantage of what little wiggle room they had there.

That said, given that she’s the only black woman on the main cast, it’s very disappointing that she rounds out the season by being drugged, possessed, and either talking about, pushing away, or engaging with Michael. My own perspective on this show may revolve around Michael, but that doesn’t mean I think our black woman should share that fate narratively.

And I’ll note that characterization-wise, I understood the ways Maria’s thoughts and actions could become consumed and fixated on a love interest. Oh, holy wow, have I Been There. But allowing that - and essentially, only that, narratively for Maria at the end of the season, as the only MC black woman on the show - is a disservice to her character and the community she represents. Which is not to say that I take issue with how Michael and Maria come together at the end, either from a narrative or a character development standpoint; what I take issue with is that that is all we get of her in the later episodes. Maria deserved more, and so did we.

On fighting for WOC

One of my favorite things about this show is how the characters on this show again and again come to bat for the two main WOC, despite that both of them are portrayed as absolutely capable of fighting for themselves. Both Liz Ortecho and Maria DeLuca are shown to be strong, multifaceted, beautiful (neither because of nor in spite of their race - just beautiful, end of story), desirable, and worth fighting for - and unapologetically and undeniably women of color.

Our “main hero” Max makes it absolutely clear that he will Throw Down for Liz Ortecho. He risks his own life and the lives of his siblings to save her, and nearly torpedos those relationships entirely on her behalf. He loves her absolutely, flaws and all. And he acknowledges those flaws - he doesn’t put her on a pedestal or pretend she’s perfect - she doesn’t need to be for him to love and respect her.

We see Alex and Michael and Liz all show up for Maria at different points in the story, fighting on her behalf, defending her, and making the statement that Maria is precious and should be protected. More than that, through Michael’s eyes, we stand in awe of Maria DeLuca - she is a standout, she is impressive, she is powerful, and she is her own savior, every time. And through all of that, she is beautiful and desirable and absolutely worthy of being the center of attention.

These storylines and characterizations are unfortunately still incredibly rare for women of color in modern media. Women of color rarely get to be these fully fleshed out characters with their own backstory and own motivations, and even more rarely do we get to see them be viewed by others as special and valued. Roswell isn’t sidelining its WOC or centering their storylines around white men (my comments above re Maria’s last couple episodes notwithstanding). And that’s amazing and should be celebrated.

On aesthetics

No matter how important something is to the plot or how in-character it would be, the sociological aesthetics of media are still relevant. Plot-wise, the roundabout Wyatt leading to Maria leading to Noah was an interesting mechanism, and it makes sense, character-wise for Cam and then Isobel to suspect Maria’s involvement. And it makes sense, character-wise, for Liz to then defend Maria against those suspicions.

But - aesthetics matter. And watching a scene in which two white blonde women accuse a WOC of horrible crimes at another WOC is immensely uncomfortable and very tone-deaf. That wasn’t fun or engaging to watch, I don’t feel drawn into the mystery of it all in that moment, I feel pretty grossed out, actually. Because this show has set a standard for itself of being better than that, and in that scene, it failed its own test.

On bisexual representation

This one I’ve already talked about at length and having finished out the season, my feelings haven’t changed. This show does a damn fine job showing us a bisexual character living out his life, his pain, and his unhealthy but entirely relatable coping mechanisms. They don’t try to portray him as perfect because he’s not and he shouldn’t have to be for us to respect and love him.

On bi-baiting

I’ll admit to being disappointed that Isobel’s feelings for Rosa turned out to be artificial and driven by the man living her in mind. It took the whole situation from amazing bi rep to aggressively heterosexual. Not only was our queer woman not actually queer, but all of those feelings and attraction toward another woman were actually driven by a really toxic man that was actively violating Isobel to pursue that attraction.

Once again, the show started to give us something really fucking amazing - two bisexual main characters - and then appeared to take that away. We’ve been given no indication that Isobel’s attraction to Rosa was anything more than Noah in her head or that she herself is anything other than Very Straight.

This doesn’t diminish the amazing bi representation they’ve given us with Michael, but that amazing representation does not excuse or erase our having been baited into falling for another bisexual character only to find out it was all very likely a sham. While there are certainly not enough bisexual men in media, there is also not enough queer women at all. So dangling that in front of the audience before yanking it away is frustrating.

On respecting survivors

*Content Warning: sexual assault* 

So I’m going to talk as a survivor for a moment and explain how Holy Shit Muther Fucking Important it was to see another survivor being told that other people’s feelings and needs didn’t matter. What She needed mattered. I was sobbing through that scene because no one has ever told me that. No one ever told me that what I needed trumped other people’s comfort or anger or needs.

But Isobel got to hear that. She got to hear that her brothers’ needs Did Not Matter (and that, particularly, hits hard for me). The only thing that mattered was whatever She needed to get through this, to feel better, and to heal. She got to hear that taking care of herself was the most important thing, that she was allowed to be selfish and think of herself. She didn’t have to put others first, or make sure everyone got what they wanted. What they wanted is nothing compared to what she needs. I needed to hear that just as much as Isobel did.

The show did not shy away in facing just how violently violated Isobel was by her husband - body and mind. It doesn’t brush off what he did as just another evil act by an evil man - this was invasion of Isobel in every possible way by someone she loved and trusted.

And it doesn’t try to artificially portray her as too strong to care, or too weak to handle it. She’s strong, but she’s affected. She’s shattered inside, and she’s handling it. A lot of us know what that’s like in ways people that haven’t experienced it never could. And as someone who finds therapy in being understood, in seeing my experiences in media, this scene was everything I needed.

On villainizing POC

This one has sparked a lot of valid discourse. Media has a really ugly history of telling society who is good and who is bad based on casting choices and always always always making the villains the POC, particularly MOC. It’s unconscious bias leading to more unconscious bias, teaching viewers that we shouldn’t trust POC bc they’re always the bad guy.

It’s a problem and every additional casting choice like this contributes to that problem. No show or movie is immune to it simply because they had a good reason, or even because they wanted to give a POC a job. Studios can give POC jobs by writing roles for them from the beginning, rather than slotting them into damaging stereotypes.

While I do acknowledge that it is unfair and in many ways problematic to deny an actor a role simply because of their race, aesthetics matter. There has to be some forethought in the casting choices regarding the message that choice will send. If the desire is to have more POC characters, then write more POC characters.

And that’s another way in which Roswell doesn’t really succeed with Noah. While there’s at least mention of Noah’s race on the show, he falls into the same category as Alex in that we never see his race expressed or lived. They cast a South Asian actor to play a raceblind role, which means they cast a POC actor to play a white role. POC characters have different stories than white characters - Roswell dropped the ball on giving us that with Noah.

Roswell does a lot right where it concerns race on this show, and it is refreshing that our POC villain is far from the only POC on the show. That said, I was taught something in college that I will never forget:  oppression is a moving sidewalk. In order to work against it, you cannot stand still (i.e. casting POC on both sides). You must actively walk the other direction in order to affect change.

Like with the issue of Isobel’s baited bisexuality, giving us amazing representation in one hand doesn’t change that you’re using the other to flick our ear.

On centering queer stories

*hugs myself in delight* This is a big one and is probably the aspect that Roswell gets the most right. Both in impact, screen time, and even in literal scene-splitting, Roswell again and again makes it clear that Michael & Alex’s love story is just as vital and central to this story as Max & Liz’s. They intercut their scenes at numerous points, and characters even within the show compare how similarly their stories have played out. The two relationships experience major milestones on the same day on more than one occasion.

Michael and Alex’s relationship has depth. It has conflict, it has history, it has heartbreak. There is tension and pain and softness and love. It has laughter and safe spaces; it has big gestures and powerful words. These two men who crash together and fly apart but whose whole beings seem to orient toward the other and who, at the end of the day, are willing to let themselves be destroyed for their love.

This queer love story playing out on season 1 of Roswell has more foundation, development, chemistry, and payoff than some of the most romanticised straight couples in media history. It’s been a week since the finale and I’m still just utterly in awe at what we’ve been given here. Roswell is absolutely succeeding in giving us thorough, relatable, meaningful queer representation with Michael and Alex. They are not holding back or sidelining or tokenizing. And they are following through on narrative promises instead of just baiting or relying on subtext. And that’s…. so fucking insanely satisfying to finally get to see.

.

Ultimately, I’m far more happy with how the show treats its underrepresented identities and modern social issues than I am critical. Most of the content on this show is akin to looking in a mirror and seeing my own worldview reflected back. I am a queer progressive woman and a survivor, so many of these issues are personal for me.

But I’m also white, and my disabilities are not physical. As such, I am not and should not be the authority on some of these issues. I am more than open to feedback from those who feel I was either too harsh, or not harsh enough, where it concerns those issues.

But for now, this is essentially Chasing’s Progressive Review of Roswell New Mexico, Season 1. And now I’m gonna go roll around in meta and fanfic and gifsets for the next several months cuz I sure as hell ain’t done talking about this show.

[frankencocksupremacy]

You don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal I was just wondering how did you deal with the negativity/stress around phalloplasty? I’m having it soon and it’s a serious downer hearing both the negative talk from non-op guys and stories from people have regretted surgery (even if that’s rare). I’d appreciate any advice if it’s not too much to ask

i don't mind answering this at all, no worries. this sort of thing has actually been on my mind for a long time and this gives me an excuse to talk about it lol. please note that just because something made me feel better that doesn't mean it'll work for you. we're all individuals and i'm no therapist. also note that i'm still in recovery and my main way of coping with anything heavy is cracking jokes (INCELS STILL WISH THEY WERE ME) so try to take particularly specific things i say with a grain of salt and feel free to toss out whatever advice seems unhelpful. if none of this works for you, i apologize, but maybe someone will find it beneficial.

ANYWAY here's whats been helping me get through my days (i tried to condense it but it ended up being a novel anyway oops):

⦁ post-op depression is real and it happens to lots of people. it can be coped with. keep yourself as mentally well as you can post-op. seek the support of people who care. immerse yourself in things you enjoy (just be careful if those things are drugs or sex. ask your doc about what your limits are while you're healing). develop a strong sense of humor. and be patient with yourself if you get frustrated or insecure. post-op depression doesn't last forever, and contrary to what some people believe, it also doesn't mean you've made a mistake. it's completely normal to feel shitty when you're in pain and exhausted for a long time

⦁ don't share more then you're willing to, no matter what. you don't owe nobody nuthin. transition is personal and nobody is entitled to the details, esp if they just want to know how to better shit talk you. be polite towards the well meaning, but set your boundaries and don't let people bully you past them. there are some trans people who think we must share all of our experiences, that we must make ourselves vulnerable for each others' sakes, but i promise you nobody will die if you choose to keep things private

⦁ understand when people are speaking in bad faith. non-ops who find bottom surgery "faulty" or are jealous of it don't care about the actual results, they just want you to feel bad for either living differently then them or for having what they don't. spiteful detrans people don't care about the thousands of happy post-op people who live and die as their transitioned gender, they're bitter about their own difficult experience. trans people who regret bottom surgery have their reasons to and that should be respected, but those reasons are entirely theirs (read: not a reflection on you or a guarantee that you'll feel the same way). Their_Experience_Is_Not_Universal.jpeg. none of these people having different lives or opinions needs to mold your reality

⦁ in addition to that, realize when people are speaking from a place of bias. of course someone who hasn't/can't have this surgery may talk shit, that's what sour grapes and internalized transphobia do to you. of course shittier people who've detran'd think nobody can be happy with the outcome of surgery, they're focused entirely on their own pain. of course people with surgical regret may try to disuade others from surgery, it wasn't what they wanted/needed/expected and they typically think they're doing you a favor. don't buckle to other people's perceptions of this operation without asking yourself what's motivating their mindset and what they'd get out of you believing it. everyone has intentions and they're not always good

⦁ don't argue with people who have made up their minds that they dislike your body, your decisions, or you as a person. you will not win, and you won't change their mind no matter how you respond to them. they'll just drain your energy and convince themselves that your reaction proves they're right. if someone makes a disparaging comment in person, subtley express disapproval at their social faux pas and then ignore them. if you get nasty messages online, delete them without acknowledging them publicly at all, even if you have the sickest of burns ready. and then reward yourself for staying mellow by doing something you enjoy, esp if its with people who actually respect you and make you happy

⦁ you are not a hypothetical or a statistic, so don't cling to them and psych yourself out. many men have this surgery and are thrilled with their lives after, and no percentage of people who encounter A Bad Thing That Happens Sometimes has ever changed that. live with what's happening right now in mind, not what could happen or has happened to others. this isn't to say you shouldn't be aware of or prepared for things like complications or difficult feelings, of course, just don't borrow trouble

⦁ in case it ever comes up: anyone who says your penis "isn't real" or "isn't functional" is wrong. your penis will be real, and chances are that if you've elected to get phallo, it will have the functions you'll need for it to be worth it to you. i can't predict your surgery outcome, and i'm only 6 weeks out as of yesterday so lord knows what's in my future, but my penis is very much a penis and it becomes more like how i want it to be every day. it's my own flesh and blood, i urinate through it, and someday i will have sex with it. cis =/= real and we'd all be better, happier people if we stopped pretending that was the case

⦁ reach out to other men who've had this surgery. feeling isolated and alone makes it easier to fall victim to the negative mindsets of (internally) transphobic people. frankly a lot of us are very happy to share because too many of us had to go through our transitions without much guidance or support, and we get that from discussing it with each other. if you need explicit permission to feel comfortable reaching out, though, my ask and IMs are always open and i love talking to other trans people about medical transition wink wink nudge nudge

⦁ don't be hard on yourself if you have transphobic or unsure thoughts. this is normal and almost impossible to avoid regardless of how things go. beating yourself up fixes nothing, least of all negative thinking. instead, if you find yourself half-believing non-ops who are insulting this surgery, question yourself. would you berate or judge another man getting phallo? are your thoughts framing cis people and their bodies as superior to trans people and theirs, and if so, why? are you dwelling on your own insecurities or dysphoria with little else backing your logic? if after surgery you start panicking because of things detrans or regretful trans people have said, keep asking. has this change actually made your life worse, or are you just anxious about it hypothetically being a regret someday? does focusing on the negative experience of others actually benefit you in any way? do you genuinely relate to the experiences these people have when they share why they're regretful? self interrogation might keep you from feeling like you're just ignoring narratives that make you uncomfortable, all while letting you constructively work through your feelings

⦁ remind yourself that no matter what anyone says or thinks, you're not changing for them. naysayers of phallo never prevented me from getting - and loving! - mine. ignorant detrans people have never made me go back to being a girl. others' surgical regret and post-op horror stories have not kept me from getting any surgeries. my life is mine, i choose what to do with it, and no matter how much hate or misinformation i've been faced with, i have persisted because my transition is for me and i know i'd regret it if i never took my chances with it. phallo wasn't for any romantic partners, or my family, or society, it was truly for Me. your transition is for You. you have one life. do what you truly believe will make it the best it can be, and no matter what happens you will be better off in some way for having tried

if you can maintain a healthy, productive way of thinking that focuses on self acceptance, you're golden. it's not easy, i know, but even the smallest effort to try makes a noticable difference. you're gonna do great. keep your chin up

(small note: i mention detrans people a lot here because they are among the people who experience surgical regret and some are loudly opposed to surgical transition because of it. i have no issue with people detransitioning. but notice how each time i bring them up i'm describing ones that are volatile and intentionally hurtful. those are the kind of detrans people i don't care for. plenty of detrans people are chill. don't listen to the ones that aren't)

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Booksmart

I’m not even going to be coy about it to draw you in - GO SEE THIS MOVIE. Maybe that’s terrible self-promotion on my part, but I like to think of this blog as a public service rather than self-aggrandizement and the best public service I can offer is to make sure you know just how excellent, hilarious, and game-changing this movie is. Still not convinced? Well...

Following in the footsteps of other madcap end-of-high-school teen movies like Superbad, Can’t Hardly Wait, and American Pie, this is the graduation story for a new generation and it’s fucking fantastic. Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Katilyn Dever) are BFFs who have been working their asses off and staying on the straight and narrow to achieve academic greatness and get into the prestigious colleges of their dreams so they can change the world with some good old fashioned girl power. Think RBG rather than THC. However, on the last day of senior year, Molly discovers that all the jocks and drama nerds and party girls she’s been looking down on for not taking school seriously ALSO got into those prestigious colleges which is a real blow to her conception of the world. She demands that she and Amy have a night of blowout high school partying so that they can experience all the fun their classmates have been having this entire time - if they get to have the best of both worlds, then dammit, Molly and Amy do too. As you can imagine, their quest to get to the biggest, best party of the night turns into a series of misadventures involving an empty boat party, a murder mystery dinner, accidental drug taking, a pizza delivery robbery gone wrong, and some huge love and drama as they both try to hook up with their respective crushes. 

Some thoughts:

First thing’s first, I love love LOVE that this isn’t a coming out story for Amy. She’s out. She’s so fucking out, to her friends, her parents, even her principal. I’m not dinging coming out stories - last year’s Blockers was a sweet and unexpected surprise and I was so happy it was included in the major release of a typical teen sex comedy - but like Ariel I want more and now I have it!

The supporting cast of adults is just wall-to-wall perfection. Jason Sudeikis is pitch-perfect as the long-suffering principal who is happy to see Molly and Amy get out of his hair; Jessica Williams is the cool teacher who Molly and Amy idolize, and she plays every note perfectly; and Lisa Kudrow and Will Forte are Amy’s uber-supportive and endearingly awkward parents. 

Side note: I’m pretty sure Jason Sudeikis improved his entire Lyft scene and it’s fantastic. 

Do schools really allow silly string, confetti, and condom water balloons on the last day? All I remember is wandering around the halls and getting people to sign my yearbook. There may or may not have been a cookie cake.

The details in production design are just *chef kiss* perfect. Amy’s room with the sign “A room of one’s own,” the posters in both their rooms of famous inspirational women, the bumper stickers, the labels on Amy’s drawers listing the interior contents(!) - each tiny detail adds up to such a rich character portrait of these girls and their friendship.

They have a friendship CODE WORD (it’s “Malala”) god it’s so good. I know I’m belaboring the point, but seeing a friendship like this, that’s based on unwavering support and love and tenderness, feels revolutionary. It reminds me so much of me and my best friend in sophomore and junior year, the secret language of girls who love each other deeply and are maybe slightly codependent because the world is huge and scary and does not take kindly to young women who love themselves. I may or may not have teared up when Molly says something self-disparaging and Amy slaps her, saying “Don’t talk about my best friend that way.” 

The supporting cast of teens is made up of diverse, interesting, and well-realized characters. Gigi (Billie Lourd) is so over-the-top iconic, she’s easily the standout, living easily up to the legacy her grandmother Debbie Reynolds and her mother Carrie Fisher left. 

I just have never felt more seen as a dorky queer woman. I am not Molly, nor am I Amy, but god I’ve been both of them so many times I can’t even count. When Molly talking to Nick and he pegs her Hogwarts house exactly? My knees went weak. Amy playing the game of “Is she queer or is she just a countercultural straight girl” is so real I started having acid flashbacks of going to my first gay bar. These incredible, honest characters are the core of the film and every choice that director Olivia Wilde made in creating them was the right one. 

I also love that the only sex scene in the film is a queer sex scene - it’s so important to represent and normalize, and show queer teens that their stories can also be awkward and funny and that whether you’re queer or straight, nothing gets solved or fixed with sex at a teenage party.

Do people graduate in the morning? How? Don’t their parents have to work?

It’s evident the movie owes a debt to all the teen movies that came before and clearly influenced it, the most obvious being Superbad. In many ways the two films hit all the same major beats and feature many of the same character archetypes, but I would argue that this is the superior version. The character anxieties and dependencies can still be explored without the misogyny or homophobia - it’s the best of both worlds, and it doesn’t come at the expense of anyone else. 

Did I Cry? Of course I did, at the very end when Molly and Amy have to say goodbye to each other. 

These are my favorite credits I’ve seen in recent memory for sure. 

Do yourself a favor and go enjoy the funniest comedy I’ve seen this year. Your inner dorky girl needs this.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[bearer-of-the-light]

Think twice before shouting your virtues online – moral grandstanding is toxic

by Joshua B. Grubbs 14 January 2020 The Conversation https://theconversation.com/think-twice-before-shouting-your-virtues-online-moral-grandstanding-is-toxic-128493

In an era of bitter partisanship, political infighting and ostracization of those with unpopular views, Americans actually agree on one thing: 85% say political discourse has gotten worse over the last several years, according to Pew Research.

The polarization plays out everywhere in society, from private holiday gatherings to very public conversations on social media, where debate is particularly toxic and aggressive.

For psychologists like myself, who study human behavior, this widespread nastiness is both a social problem and a research opportunity. My colleagues and I have zeroed in on one specific aspect that might help explain America’s dysfunctional discourse: moral grandstanding.

Moral grandstanding

The term may be unfamiliar, but most people have experienced moral grandstanding.

Examples of moral grandstanding include when a friend makes grand and extreme proclamations on Twitter about their deepest held values regarding climate change, for instance, and when a campaigning politician makes bold – but clearly untrue – ideological claims about immigration.

Philosophers coined the phrase to describe the abuse of so-called “moral talk” – an umbrella term encompassing all conversations humans have about our politics, beliefs, values and morals.

Usually, people engage in moral talk to learn from, connect with or persuade someone else. They might say of their decision not to eat any animal products, for example, “I am vegan for environmental and animal rights reasons.”

Moral grandstanding occurs when people use moral talk, instead, to promote themselves or seek status. So a moral grandstander might say, “I am vegan because it is the only moral decision. If you care about the planet, you can’t eat animal products.”

For moral grandstanders, conversation is a means to an end – not a free exchange of ideas.

A desire for respect from our peers is normal in humans, as are the desires for safety, love and belonging. Social scientists have traced the evolutionary origins of status seeking to prehistoric times.

Moral grandstanding, however, is a special kind of status seeking. It implies that someone is using conversations about important or controversial topics solely to get attention or impress others.

Severed ties and broken relationships

Just because someone touts their virtues – whether on Twitter or in conversation – does not mean they are morally superior to everyone else.

In a recently published study conducted with a team of other psychologists and philosophers, we asked 6,000 Americans a series of questions about who and why they share their deepest moral and political beliefs with. People who reported sharing beliefs to gain respect, admiration or status were identified as grandstanders.

Almost everyone indicated they had some history of grandstanding, but only a few – 2% to 5% – indicated they primarily used their moral talk to promote themselves.

We found that moral grandstanders were more likely to experience discord in their personal lives. People who reported grandstanding more often also reported more experiences arguing with loved ones and severing ties with friends or family members over political or moral disagreements.

People who indicated using their deepest held beliefs to boost their own status in real life also reported more toxic social media behaviors, picking fights over politics on Facebook, for example, and berating strangers on Twitter for having the “wrong” opinions.

Philosophical accounts of grandstanding strongly suggest that moral grandstanders behave less morally than other people in other ways, too. They are more likely to rudely call others out for not being virtuous enough, systematically disparage entire groups of people and hijack important conversations to serve their own purposes.

When the natural human desire for respect leads people to seek status in situations when they would be better served by listening, it seems, this behavior can drive friends, family and communities apart.

Other reasons for discord

The rise of moral grandstanding isn’t the only reason discourse in the United States has taken a turn for the worse.

Politics have grown extraordinarily polarized, which is both a cause and effect of social polarization. Politically active people feel more animosity and less trust toward “the other side” than they have in generations.

Social media itself seems to accelerate conflict, creating echo chambers of likeminded people that are galvanized against others and driving cycles of outrage that quickly escalate and stifle public participation in important conversations.

So ending moral grandstanding won’t magically fix the public debate in the United States. But tamping it down would lead the country in a more productive direction.

How to handle moral grandstanding

Consider assessing your own conversation style, reflecting about what you say to others and why. When you enter into contentious territory with someone who differs in opinion, ask whether you’re doing so because you’re genuinely interested in communicating and connecting with your fellow human – or are you just trying to score points?

Thinking honestly about your engagement on social media – ground zero for moral grandstanding – is particularly important.

Do you post controversial material just for likes and retweets? Do you share social media posts of people you disagree with just to publicly mock them? Do you find yourself trying to one-up the good deeds of someone else to make yourself look good to people whose respect you crave?

If so, then you may be a moral grandstander.

If not, you can still fight moral grandstanding by recognizing and dissuading these behaviors in others. Given that moral grandstanders crave status, respect and esteem from others, depriving them of the attention they seek is probably the best deterrent.

[dreamersscape]

The Raven Cycle: A Liveblog (Part 4)

(Let’s just pretend the gap since my last installment was a much shorter and more reasonable period of time than it has actually been, shall we? I tried to make up for it with the length of this edition. Suuuuuper long post under the cut.)

Me, reading TDT’s opening quotations: Okay, yes, good. Taking things out of your dreams into the waking world. Got it.

Me, reading the last quote: ‘I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.’?

YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE, AUSTIN STRINDBERG. GET THEE HENCE.

‘He always returned with gifts, treasure, and unimaginable amounts of money, but to Ronan, the most wondrous thing was Niall himself. Every parting felt like it would be the last, and so every return was like a miracle.’ RONANNNNNNN. (Is it weird that it feels like Ronan is supposed to be my favorite bc he seems closest to my type and goodness knows I can relate to the grieving-a-father feels, but that’s not really the case so far? I love him dearly, but it feels like I should love him more. Weird? Not weird? I dunno.)

*carefully takes notes about the alleged details of Ronan’s birth because I know now every minor detail is actually Very Important*

‘Theoretically, Blue Sargent was probably going to kill one of these boys.’ Oh, good, it’s only a theoretical death. Glad we got that sorted out. Guess I can stop worrying about it now, right? :P

'Adam’s hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn’t speak very well.’ I really like this line! Also, somewhat sadly, relateable.

'It had five tiny white buttons: four arranged in a cross shape, and one off by itself. To Blue, that fifth button was like Adam. Still working toward the same purpose as the other four. But no longer quite as close as the others.’ Oh, so we’re going to make my heart hurt over Adam Parrish in the first ten pages of the book. Fine.

'In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.’ Aw, those lines sound familiar. ;) And we’re all right there with ya, Blue.

'The dorms were emptier than they would’ve been during school term, but they were not empty.’ Whoops unrelated-to-TRC-but-nevertheless-on-brand feels ahoy.

So it’s been long enough since I read TRB that I can’t recall if I had any particular feelings about Declan then, but definitely feeling pretty sympathetic towards him now, what with his father’s seeming dismissive attitude toward him and the assault from this Gray Man. Also, have I read the word Greywaren before? Not sure.

Oh. So Ronan is the Greywaren, then. Guess that answers that.

’Mom is nothing without him’? Woooow, Declan. Wow. A bit less sympathy, now. (Maybe there’s something about their mother I don’t know yet, but still…)

’Creature was a good word for him, Ronan thought.’ Oof. He’s gonna make me eat my words, isn’t he? I already said I love you dearly, Ronan!

And now he’s gonna divert himself from his unpleasant thoughts with an external distraction. Oh good. That doesn’t mirror any of my other favorite characters at all.

'Back then, it had surprised Ronan; he hadn’t realized yet that Gansey could persuade even the sun to pause and give him the time.’ [drags a hand slowly down my face] Don’t do this to me, Maggie. Haven’t you already put me through enough with Adam and Gansey?

'His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey they were so often the same thing.’ Well that–that’s a sentence.

’“Ronan, there’s no reason for that,” Gansey said sternly, as if Ronan had hurled a toy on the floor.’ Gonna start listing all the mom-friend!Gansey moments, 'cause I gotta.

'He laughed enough that Chainsaw abandoned her paper shredding to verify he wasn’t dying.’ This is cute, other than the implication that Ronan genuinely laughing is a all-too-rare occurrence.

’“So what you’re saying is you can’t explain it.” “I did explain it.” “No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”’ Hee!

I half expect tired-of-potential-and-only-being-useful-needing-something-more!Blue to break out singing ’I want much more than this provincial life/I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell’ and I don’t say that at all in a disparaging way, that’s just what it made me think of. It’s a very understandable desire on Blue’s part.

’“Jane!” Gansey said joyfully.’ I will never tire of this. :)

'When she returned, she leaned on the table beside Adam, who touched her wrist. She didn’t know what to do in response. Touch it back? The moment had passed. She resented her body for not giving her the correct answer.’ So! Freaking! Relateable!

'Kavinsky headed directly to the large table in the back, and the postures of the other boys all changed drastically….Gansey stood, leaning against the table, and there was something threatening rather than respectful about it.’ I live a protective!Gansey appreciation life.

The Gray Man is quite a character.

Ummmm so chapter eight just hurt my soul a whole lot? Here’s a list of the culprits:

'He’d spent just two hours at the easiest of the jobs — Boyd’s Body & Paint, LLC, replacing brake pads and changing oil and finding what was making that squeaking noise there, no, there — and now, even though he was off, he was ruined for anything else. Sticky and sore and, above all else, tired, always tired.’

'The only rub was, Blue was another troubling thing. She was like Gansey in that she wanted him to explain himself. What do you want, Adam? What do you need, Adam? Want and need were words that got eaten smaller and smaller: freedom, autonomy, a perennial bank balance, a stainless-steel condo in a dustless city, a silky black car, to make out with Blue, eight hours of sleep, a cell phone, a bed, to kiss Blue just once, a blister-less heel, bacon for breakfast, to hold Blue’s hand, one hour of sleep, toilet paper, deodorant, a soda, a minute to close his eyes. What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.’ (This hurt less than the 'to go home, to go home, to go home’ passage, but ONLY JUST.)

'He’d already seen the ignored, unopened envelope emblazoned with Aglionby Academy’s raven crest. For two days he’d been stepping over it, as if it might disappear if he failed to acknowledge it.’ (Ah, hello avoidant coping skills, my old friend.)

’[Adam] ached inside.’/'He still ached.’/'his spine aching, shoulders aching, soul aching’

'They stared at each other, both hurt.’/'He tried not to let it sound like he was still hurt, but he was, and it did.’/'She tried not to let it sound like she was hurt, but she was, and it did.’

’What do you want, Adam? He didn’t even know.’ (T.T)

'His wide eyes and gaunt face peered back at him, troubled but not unusual.’

I’m so done, he thought. No more. Please, I can’t take any more.’ (SAME.)

'The difference in tuition between this year’s and next was twenty-four hundred dollars. That number again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’ (SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE GANSEY/ADAM TENSION/CONFLICT/FIGHTING. WHEN DO WE GET TO THE GETTING BETTER PART?)

'They couldn’t hurt Gansey. Nothing could hurt him; people who said money couldn’t buy everything hadn’t seen anyone as rich as the Aglionby boys. They were untouchable, immune to life’s troubles. Only death couldn’t be swiped away by a credit card.’ (Oh Adam honey, you don’t even knooooow. :()

Adam! Some people show and feel love through acts of service! It’s not an inherently bad thing! Concern and the desire to help are not the same thing as pity!

Also, Blue’s “Then don’t be pitiful!” response was kinda strange, even for an impulsively perturbed remark? Just felt weird.

'She was looking at the box that served as his nightstand. Somehow it had moved several feet away from the bed. The side was badly dented, its former contents scattered violently across the floor. Only now did he remember the act of kicking the box, but not the decision to kick it.’ (Crap.)

'He calmed enough to remember that if he waited long enough, carefully analyzing how it felt, the emotion would lose its inertia. It was the same as physical pain. The more he tried to mentally decide what made pain hurt, the less his brain seemed able to remember the pain at all.’

'He’d never escape, not really. Too much monster blood in him. He’d left the den, but his breeding betrayed him. And he knew why he was pitiful. It wasn’t because he had to pay for his school or because he had to work for a living. It was because he was trying to be something he could never be. The sham was pitiful.’

'Some nights he lured himself to sleep by imagining how he would word the favor for Glendower. He needed to get the words exactly right. Now he rolled phrases around his mouth, desperately reaching for one that would comfort him. Ordinarily, words would tumble and lull through his mind, but this time, all he could think was Fix me.’ (On a related note, I’m dead.)

'He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that he couldn’t trust his senses. Like he was tasting an image or smelling a feeling or touching a sound. It was the same as just a few minutes before, the idea that he’d glimpsed a slightly wrong reflection of himself. Adam’s previous worries vanished, replaced with a more immediate concern for this ragged body he was carting around in. He’d been hit so many times. He’d already lost his hearing in his left ear. Maybe something else had been destroyed on one of those tense, wretched nights.’ (*Spontaneously revives to continue worrying myself to death over Adam Parrish* WHY CAN’T I TAKE CARE OF HIM?)

'Ronan, Noah, and Gansey were at the Dollar City in Henrietta, loitering. Theoretically, they were there for batteries. Practically, they were there because both Blue and Adam had work, Ronan’s shapeless anger always got worse at night, and Dollar City was one of the few stores in Henrietta that allowed pets.’ These stupid codependent teens.

“Hello? Oh, hey,” Gansey said to the phone, touching a notebook with a handgun printed on the cover. The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam’ [tries to feel the joy I deserve at this past my intense anxiety about the probable clashing over the tuition thing]

'Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant. He saw it in Dollar City’s cheap oven mitts — that was his mother at dinnertime. He heard it in the slam of the cash register drawer — that was his father coming home at midnight. He smelled it in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York. Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.’ He and Adam both want to go hoooome and I wish I could provide that for them and turns out I am actually Gansey.

'“Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.’ Truly Noah is their light in the darkness. I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH.

'Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”’ Like I said. Also, I really, really wish I could hear both sides of this phone conversation.

'Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.’ I mean, fair. And heartbreaking.

'Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”’ Oh no. It’s happening.

'But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.’ I would hug you Ronan, except there is now more Adam 'n’ Gansey friction and I’m really bad at handling it!

'Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers….Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched Ronan’s arm. Cold seeped from the point of contact as Noah dragged heat to become visible.’ Oh, so Noah can do that with Ronan too? Because of his greywaren-ness?

'“I lost …” Noah struggled for words. “There wasn’t air. It went away. The — the line!” “The ley line?” Gansey asked. Noah nodded once, a sloppy thing that was sort of a shrug at the same time. “There was nothing … left for me.”’ Not allowed. Just saying.

'He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.’ Yes, we know. :)

'From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.’ Having witnessed my younger brother doing basically the same thing once, I can vouch for the authenticity of this teenage-boy activity.

'Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.’ Yeah, don’t we all dream about the absence of pain. *buries face in hands* OH GANSEY BOY.

’“Do you want me to talk to her?” This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing. “I’m really bad at talking, Gansey,” Adam said earnestly. “And you’re really good at it. Maybe — maybe if it just comes up natural?” Gansey’s shoulders collapsed; his breath fogged the glass and vanished. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Adam paused. “I just want something to be simple.” So do I, Adam. So do I.’ This right here? This A Whoooole Lot. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Adam if he asked, Gansey?

'Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, “He threw me out the window!” Ronan’s voice sang out from behind his closed door: “You’re already dead!”’ OH. MY. GOODNESS.

’"You should come over.” “Not tonight,” replied Adam. I’m losing him, Gansey thought. I’m losing him to Cabeswater. He had thought that by staying away from the forest, he’d keep the old Adam — put off the consequences of whatever had happened that night when everything started to go awry. But maybe it just didn’t matter. Cabeswater would take him regardless.’ I dream of the absence of pain!!!

'His skin shivered and crawled, and he realized it was crawling with hornets, the ones that had killed Gansey all those years ago. There weren’t many this time, only a few hundred. Sometimes he dreamt cars full of them, houses full of them, worlds full of them. Sometimes these hornets killed Ronan, too, in his dreams.’ Oh, Ronan.

’Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin. “You’ve done this before,” she said. Time was a circle, a rut, a worn tape Ronan never tired of playing.’ Huh. Has Ronan been dreaming of Cabeswater for years and years?

'Curled on the mattress, [Adam] covered his face with his summer-hot arm. Sometimes, if he blocked his mouth and nose, just this side of suffocation, sleep would overthrow him.’ THAT DOESN’T SOUND HEALTHY, MY BOY. :(

'He was awake enough to think of the invitation from Gansey. There might be an internship in there. Adam knew it was a favor. Did that make it wrong? He’d said no for so long that he didn’t know when to say yes….He hated the careful way Gansey had asked him about it. Tiptoeing, just like Adam had learned to tiptoe around his father. He needed a reset button. Just push the reset button on Adam Parrish and start him again.’ I am sad. (But maaaaybe he’s starting to reconsider the idea that he can never accept hep of any kind?)

'After he had exhausted this line of thought, Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday.’ Oh, Ronan.

'“Hey, pal,” Matthew whispered. He was the only person who could get away with calling Ronan pal.’ Awww. :)

'Matthew Lynch was a bear of a boy, square and solid and earnest. His head was covered with soft, golden curls completely unlike any of his other family members. And in his case, the perfect Lynch teeth were framed by an easy, dimpled smile. He had two brands of smile: the one that was preceded by a shy dip of his chin, a dimple, and then BAM, smile. And the one that teased for a moment before BAM, an infectious laugh. Females of all ages called him adorable. Males of all ages called him buddy. Matthew failed at many more things than either of his older brothers, but unlike Declan or Ronan, he always tried his hardest.’ Whoops, I’m attached.

'Ronan had dreamt one thousand nightmares about something happening to him.’ *rubs heart*

'A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.’ Once again: Awww. :)

'Blue very much liked having the boys over to her house. Their presence at the house was agreeable for several different reasons….And the third reason was that it suggested permanence. Blue had acquaintances at school, people she liked. But they weren’t forever. While she was friendly with a lot of them, there was no one that she wanted to commit to for a lifetime. And she knew this was her fault. She’d never been any good at having casual friends. For Blue, there was family — which had never been about blood relation at 300 Fox Way — and then there was everyone else. When the boys came to her house, they stopped being everyone else.’ THEY’RE FAMILY NOW. <3

'Crossly, Blue realized that Gansey had now called her Jane so often that it felt strange to hear him say her real name.’ Embrace it, Blue. Embraaace it. :D

'He hid the insatiable wanting well, but now that she’d seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. But he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Maura. And he would never really have to explain it to Blue. It was his something more.’ Awww. :)

(Sorry this liveblog is devolving mostly into either EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE or But this is cute! and if that is starting to become boring…)

’"What did they die of?” “Mom always said ‘meddling.’ Gansey completely forgot they were being secretive and let out a tremendous laugh. It was a powerful thing, that laugh. He only did it once, but his eyes remained shaped like it. Something inside her did a complicated tug. Oh no! she thought. But then she calmed herself. Richard C. Gansey III has a nice mouth. Now I know he has nice eyes when he laughs, too. This still isn’t love. She also thought: Adam. Remember Adam.’ 1.) I hope this line of rationalization works out for you, Blue. ;) 2.) I am still feeling torn, though. Blue and Adam are cute together. 3.) I’d be okay with a Blue-Gansey-Adam OT3 though.

'Maura frowned. In a low voice, she said, “I think I need to have a conversation with that boy.” “Someone does,” Calla replied, heading up the stairs. Each stair groaned a protest for which she punished the next with a stomp. “Not me. I’ve outgrown train wrecks.” Blue, alarmed, said, “Is he a train wreck?”| Her mother clucked her tongue. “Calla likes drama. Train wreck! When a train takes a long time to go off the tracks, I don’t like to call it a wreck. I like to call it a derailment.”  From upstairs, Blue heard Calla’s delighted cackle. “I hate both of you,” Blue said as her mother laughed and galloped up the stairs to join Calla. “You’re supposed to use your powers for good, you know!” After a moment, Adam said to her, without lifting his eyes, “I could hear y’all, you know.” Blue hoped fervently that he was only talking about Maura and Calla and not about her kitchen conversation with Gansey. “Do you think you’re a train wreck?” “That would mean I was on the tracks to start with,” he replied.’ I would just like to say that I am miffed by this passage on Adam’s behalf. Thank you.

The chapter where Mr. Gray comes to 300 Fox Way was… interesting.

'Gansey, a furious sun, glowed from the other side of the universe, his gravitational pull too distant to affect Adam.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME MAGGIE I CAN NEVER RECOVER.

So yeah, I just read the part where Adam is thinking back to how he and Gansey became friends and I think my heart just burst from emotional overload.

'Sometimes Adam wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that day. What would be happening to him right now?’ Sometimes, Allan wondered what would’ve happened if Robin hadn’t stepped out of the trees that day. What would be happening to him right now? SORRY, I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Also, it only just occurred to me that Allan and Adam are A-names and Robin and Richard (even if that’s not what Gansey goes by) are R-names. This makes me so unreasonably happy!

'Gansey was giddy now that they’d decided to go back to Cabeswater. He hated nothing more than standing still. He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music — Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department — and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. “Put your back into it!” Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. “Don’t let it smell fear on you!” Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan’s headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.’ REEELATABLLLLE!!!

'Adam felt like he was watching it all from outside. He felt like he was about to catch another image, like a flick of the tarot cards he’d looked at earlier. Was that someone standing by the side of the road? I can’t trust my eyes.’ Leave him aloooone. :(

'Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. “I love this car,” he said, loud to be heard over the engine. “I should buy four more of them. I’ll just open the door of one to fall into the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I’ll sleep in one …” “And the fourth? Butler’s pantry?” Blue shouted. “Don’t be so selfish. Guest room.”’ He’s adorable.

Huh. Cabeswater’s gone!

'Adam felt that the Pig’s status perfectly encapsulated how he felt. It was not really dead, just broken. He was held inside the question of what it meant for him if Cabeswater was gone. Why can’t things just be simple?’  While this is a legitimate concern, Adam, to be fair, just a few moments ago you were worrying about was going to happen when you returned to Cabeswater for the first time after your sacrifice. Poor guy’s anxious over everything. :/

'Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled, and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper.  “Well, that’s helpful,” Blue said tersely.’ 1.) [Fond but exasperated] Oh Ronan. 2.) I appreciate your reaction, Blue. You’re not wrong.

'“I’m calling Declan,” Gansey said. “And telling him to bring a battery.” Ronan told Gansey what he thought of this plan, very precisely, with a lot of compound words that even Adam hadn’t heard before. Gansey nodded, but he also dialed Declan’s number. Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.’ Please stop dealing with difficult emotions/situations by causing yourself pain, Ronan, honey.

'Gansey rounded on Adam, clutching his own headrest and looking behind him. “Why is it gone?”’ Why is my mental picture of this so endearing?

'Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.’ Oh, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?

'And as he sat there, observing the set of Declan’s shoulders and the way his eyes looked, he realized something startling. Declan was afraid. Probably it wasn’t apparent to Gansey, who was fairly oblivious, nor to Blue, who didn’t know what Declan looked like ordinarily. And Ronan’s feelings about his older brother were like blood in the water; he wouldn’t be able to see through the bilious clouds. But to Adam, who’d spent a fair amount of his life afraid — not only afraid, but trying to hide it — it was obvious.’ [Gansey voice] I am right to have Allan feels here and I will not be made to feel bad about it! (Also, in blast-from-the-past news, I’m really close to finally done with putting my anxiety-and-Allan thoughts into words and I’m excited for that.)

I love when Noah senses one of the other boys is in distress and goes to them and does his ghostly best to comfort or assist them. <3

'He thought about the day he’d been stung to death by hornets and lived anyway. Gansey ran over the memory until he no longer felt the thrill of hearing Glendower’s name whispered in his ear, and then instead gave himself over to feeling sorry for himself, that he should have so many friends and yet feel so very alone. He felt it fell to him to comfort them, but never the other way around. As it should be, he thought, abruptly angry with himself. You’ve had it the easiest. What good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing, if you can’t stand on your own legs? ’ OH HONEY :( (But Noah does try!)

'“It’s not just the blood,” Ronan said. His chest moved up and down with his breath. “Something else got out, too.”’ Uh-oh.

Phew. They dispatched the nightmare creature while remaining mostly unscathed. Although they needn’t go around asking each other, "Are you murdered?” with the reply, “I think so.” anymore, please.

'“There was another one,” he said. “It got away.”’ Well, that’s not good!

'“It’s for the distasteful thing,” Gansey said. He plucked at the T-shirt with deprecating fingers. “I’m rather slovenly at the moment, I know.”’ [Fond, amused sputtering]

Oh, they’re going to the Barns!

'Gansey, a bit of the gallows in his voice, advised, “Poke its eye.”’ [Confused, taken-aback sputtering]

'“It feels the same as when you guys lived here,” Gansey said finally. “It seems like it should be different.” “Did you come here a lot?” Blue asked.  He exchanged a glance with Ronan. “Often enough.” He didn’t say what Ronan was thinking, which was that Gansey was far more of a brother to Ronan than Declan had ever been.’ Brothers <3<3<3

'Ronan loved it so much. He nearly couldn’t bear it. He wanted to destroy something.’ That’s…one reaction to profound love. (Yes, I know. Profound love for something that’s been stripped away from you.)

'“Ronan Lynch,” he said. It was the voice Ronan couldn’t not listen to. It was sure in every way that Ronan was not. “Stop this right now. Go see your mother. And then we’re leaving.”’ More Mom-Friend!Gansey.

'Ronan walked directly up to her, close enough to see that she had not changed a bit since the last time he had seen her, months and months ago. Though his breath moved the fine hairs around her temples, she didn’t react to her son’s presence. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes stayed closed. Non mortem, somni fratrem. Not death, but his brother, sleep. Blue whispered, “Just like the other animals.”  The truth — he’d known it all along, really, if he thought about it — burrowed into him. Blue was right. His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.’ Huh.

'My soul’s in enough peril as it is.” At this, Gansey’s face turned to a genuine frown and he looked as if he was about to say something. Then he just shook his head a little….“She didn’t try to see the future. It’s not something she became; it’s something she is. I could just as easily say that you’re evil because you can take things from your dreams!” Ronan said, “Yeah, you could.” Gansey’s frown deepened. Again he opened his mouth and closed it.’ Same, Gansey. Same.

'Ronan looked at him. That look, Blue thought. Ronan Lynch would do anything for Gansey. I probably would, too, she thought.’ If only he knew it. *rubs heart*

'Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?’ Bless his cotton socks.

'Ronan thought of what Declan had said all those months before: Mom is nothing without Dad. He’d been right.’ Okay, but does Declan know about this stuff and how it works?

'Ronan interrupted the silence. “Cabeswater. Cabeswater is a dream.” Calla stopped rotating. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right,” Ronan said. He thought of all the times he had dreamt of Cabeswater’s old trees; how familiar it had felt to walk there; how the trees had known his name. He was tangled in their roots, somehow, and they, in his veins. “If Mom is in Cabeswater, she’ll wake up.” Calla stared at him. Silence was never a wrong answer.’ Okay then.

'But those words of Declan’s needled Ronan: She’s nothing without Dad. It was like he knew. Ronan wanted badly to know how much Declan knew, but it wasn’t like he could ask him.’ No, that would be too easy.

'“Says you and Dad were both dreamers,” Matthew said, “and you’re going to make us lose everything.” Ronan sat very still. He was so still so quickly that Chainsaw froze as well, her head tilted toward the youngest Lynch brother, purloined tuna sandwich forgotten. Declan knew about their father. Declan knew about their mother. Declan knew about him.’ Curious. Very curious.

The Gray Man is going to Monmouth Manufacturing!

'He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window airconditioners, a leather sofa, and a pool table. “Now do you feel better?” Adam had asked drily. Gansey had replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Hey, man,” Ronan said, “I like the pool table.” The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.’ Tag yourself; I’m Adam with a dash of Ronan. Pool tables are cool.

’"You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven’t replaced them!” Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his Top-Siders. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. “I like these shoes.”’ Update: he’s still adorable.

’[Gansey] exchanged a glance with Adam, because it had to be done’ 1) What does this mean? 2) I love them SO MUCH!

'In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. } He was in a terrible mood.’ Oooooh. 👀

'So these were the people Greenmantle had warned him about. Fellow seekers of the Greywaren, whatever it might be.’ Curious and curiouser.

'Blue cheerfully spit a mouthful of brown water on his boat shoes. It pooled in the canvas over his toes. “Good God,” he said. “Now they’re really boat shoes,” she replied.’ Blue’s crusade continues.

'He knew what it was. He just didn’t know why it was. He said, “Well, that’s a wheel off the Camaro.” And it was. It looked identical to the wheels currently residing on the Pig — except this wheel was clearly several hundred years old. The discolored surface was pocked and lumpy. With all of the deterioration, the elegantly symmetrical wheel didn’t appear that out of place beside the shield boss. If you overlooked the tattered Chevrolet logo in the middle. “Do you remember losing one a little while ago?” Ronan asked. “Like, five hundred years or so?”’ Aggressively the Most Curious.

'Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.” And it was a lie. It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.’ Oh, you kids.

'“Hey, Noah.” He was too busy being ghostly to attend to her, however. Currently, he was engaged in one of his creepiest activities: reenacting his own death. He glanced around the tiny yard as if appraising the forest glen containing only himself and his friend Barrington Whelk. Then he let out a terrible, mangled cry as he was struck from behind by an invisible skateboard. He made no sound when he was hit again, but his body jerked convincingly. Blue tried not to look as he bucked a few more times before falling to the ground. His head jerked; his legs bicycled. Blue took a deep, uneven breath. Though she had seen him do it four or five times now, it was always unsettling. Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. The last six minutes, the ones that took place after Noah had first fallen but before he actually died, were excruciating. Blue considered herself a fairly steadfast, sensible girl, but no matter how many times she heard his torn-up breath seizing in his throat, she felt a little teary. Between the twisted roots of the front yard, Noah’s body jerked and stilled, finally dead. Again.’ I feel w o u n d e d.

'They wandered to the door like that, a pretzel of dead boy and not-psychic girl.’ Don’t even look at me!

'Gleefully, Noah said, “There’s a pool table now! I’m the worst at pool ever! It’s wonderful.”’ THIS SWEET CHILD IS GIVING ME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

'Gansey, pacing next to his ruined miniature Henrietta, set his eyes on Ronan. There was something intense and heedless in them. There were many versions of Gansey, but this one had been rare since the introduction of Adam’s taming presence. It was also Ronan’s favorite. It was the opposite of Gansey’s most public face, which was pure control enclosed in a paper-thin wrapper of academia. But this version of Gansey was Gansey the boy. This was the Gansey who bought the Camaro, the Gansey who asked Ronan to teach him to fight, the Gansey who contained every wild spark so that it wouldn’t show up in other versions. Was it the shield beneath the lake that had unleashed it? Orla’s orange bikini? The bashed-up remains of his rebuilt Henrietta and the fake IDs they’d returned to? Ronan didn’t really care. All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.’ #JusticeforMiniatureHenrietta

'“Don’t say anything stupid to him,” he told Gansey.’ Did I read that right? Did Ronan really just advise Gansey to be careful?

'The Gray Man recalled the buzz of his phone and patted his pockets. His phone was missing, however. Maura Sargent had stolen it while they were making out. In its place was the ten of swords: the Gray Man slain on the ground and Maura the sword driven through his heart.’ Interesting. Sorry that always seems to be my reaction to the Gray Man, but there it is.

[littlespacestars]

OKAY. So, here’s that little fic that’s been sitting in my files, which I fixed up and sort of gave it a conclusion. It’s more of a fluff fic with a tiny bit of angst. And it’s also an AU! 

Some context that really won’t have too much to do with what happens: Allura escapes the war of her planet in an escape pod (against her will) and crash lands on earth. She’s spent six years stuck there without any contact from Altea and at this point assumes the worst. In her heart she hopes that Altea is still around, but deep down she knows that Altea must be gone. 

So she’s essentially made herself home on earth by blending in with humans, and has known Shiro for about a year (they spent most of that year dancing around each other before finally making a move). She’s finally showing him where she lives. Pfft. Don’t think into this too much, I’m really not a story teller lmao. Plot, what’s that. 

This fic features: Fluff, Shiro teaching Allura some earth things, a tiny birthday celebration, space mice, general dorkiness, light angst, and just yeah Shiro really, really being a dork.  ---

Birthday

He isn't sure what to expect when he walks into her apartment. At the back of his mind he expects there to be regal curtains and fancy rugs because that screams royalty and princess to him. But on the other hand, he also expects her home to be filled with alien technology far too advanced for him to possibly understand.

Which is why he finds himself surprised when he walks into a normal studio apartment with old grey brick walls, and a lot of natural lighting. And green. Lots and lots of green—plants and flowers of all different shapes and colors adorn the small space. It smells of earth and the sweet scent of nature. Strings of fairy lights run along the walls and are wrapped around a tall plant in the corner. If anything, it looks like a home decorated by an average young woman from Earth, ecstatic about greenery.

“If there's one thing I truly admire about Earth, it's certainly the flora.” She closes the front door behind him and gestures to it all. “Some remind me of the plant life back on Altea.”

“Well, it definitely seems like you have a green thumb,” he notes, taking a closer look at what he understands to be petunias, which are bathing in the light at the windowsill. “My mother raised a garden when I was young, so I was kind of hoping I’d be decent at keeping plants alive.” His eyes flit to the side to look at her and a boyish smile takes over his face. “I'm not though. It’s why I have a zen garden instead.”

She scrunches up her nose and laughs. “Well, different things come naturally to different people,” she says, hanging her bag up on the hook beside her door. She grabs a small watering can and places it into the kitchen sink to be filled. “I would love to see this ‘zen garden’ of yours sometime. Sounds peaceful.”

“I’d be happy to show you.”

Shiro lets himself wander around the apartment a little while Allura tends to her plants, mindful that there aren’t any photos of people along the walls or on the fireplace, only framed photos of nature. 

She’s talked plenty about Altea before—the plant life, the Altean customs, their clothing, the technology that’s much too advanced for him to understand. She’s told him about her father, King Alfor, and her advisor, Coran, and every other individual who helps run the kingdom. Allura is the princess of an entire planet and everyday Shiro can hardly contain his amazement.

He hears a squeak come from the mantle of the fireplace and startles backwards. He locks eyes with the biggest yellow (and green?) mouse he's ever seen in his life.

“Uh, Allura?” He doesn’t move an inch, only side glances at her and then back at the plump mouse standing upright on its hind legs. “There's a giant—”

“Oh, don't be alarmed, Shiro!” Allura sets aside her watering can and quickly scoops the stout mouse into her hands. She strokes the top of its head and gives it a fond smile. “This is just Platt, no need to worry.”

“Platt,” he repeats, still a little dumbfounded. “Okay, so it’s normal for you to have a yellow and green mouse. Noted.”

Allura brings Platt up to her face and he snuggles against her cheek. “I'm sorry, I forgot to mention that the mice were in the escape pod with me.”

“Mice?” Shiro looks around for a moment and sure enough, three other abnormally colored mice sit atop the fireplace mantle, sizing him up.

“Aside from my translators, they're the only piece of home that I have with me.” Allura smiles down at Platt and holds out her hand to allow the rest of the mice to climb up her arm and find a place to perch on her shoulder.

“So, they're like your pets?”

Some very loud, and what Shiro would guess are disparaging squeaks, come from the group of mice on Allura's shoulders.

“I'd rather call them friends,” she says, trying to calm the mice down. She can't have her Earth friend and her Altean friends getting off on the wrong foot. “They're incredibly intelligent.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” A sheepish smile washes over Shiro’s face and he holds up his hands in apology at the mice. “Sorry, didn't mean any offense. Just a clueless human.”

The thinner, blue grumpy mouse of the group huffs at him, but the rest of the mice seem to grant him some slack and stop squeaking.

“Still as grumpy as ever, Plachu,” Allura muses, gently poking the blue mouse with red eyes in its side. “I know we never have guests over, but Shiro is a friend and doesn't mean any harm, believe me.”

Plachu merely gives Shiro a side eye and points his tail at him warningly, like he’s brandishing a sword.

Shiro can’t help but let out an amused laugh at the gesture. “Alright, alright, I can prove that I come in peace. I have a gift for Allura that you guys will probably like, too.”

“A gift?”

He opens up his satchel and starts to carefully dig around inside. “Have you celebrated your birthday before?” he asks.

“My birthday?”

“You know, the celebration of the day of your birth.”

“Oh.” Allura pauses for a long moment, and takes a seat at the table. The mice situate themselves in her hair and get comfy, their curious little heads peeking out. “Not in quite awhile,” she finally says.

“Well, I meant to ask you when your birthday is, but...” Shiro pulls out a small white box with a purple ribbon and pushes it towards her. He nods to her and she carefully opens it. There’s a gourmet cupcake with pink frosting and white sprinkles in the shape of stars inside.

Shiro rummages around in his pocket for a candle and lighter, and sticks the candle into the cupcake. “I realized that it might be impossible for you to know, given your circumstance.”

“Yes, I suppose it would be a little difficult to figure out my birthdate when your dates are much different than my own. Not to mention the seasons.” She can’t take her eyes off the cupcake and the brightest smile is already on her face. He can’t wait for her to see the candle lit. Even the mice look intrigued.

“I figured we could celebrate it today, if that's alright. You mentioned it was probably around the day you arrived on earth?”

“I did,” she says, carefully reaching out and turning the cupcake on the table to show off every angle of it to the mice. Each of them give a very approving squeak at the sight. “Is that what this little cake is for?”

“On earth we usually celebrate birthdays with cake and ice cream, candles, presents. Those sorts of things.”

“Right, yes.” Allura eyes the candle stuck into the cake. “I think I’ve seen this done at least once before. You...light the cake on fire?”

Shiro gives her a fond smile and gestures to the lighter in his hand. “I light the candle and you blow it out.”

“Simple enough.”

Shiro reaches over and lights the candle. Before he has a chance to say anything, Allura immediately blows it out.

Shiro laughs. “I guess I didn't explain that very well.”

“What do you mean?” Allura pouts and tilts her head to the side skeptically, the mice all shifting in her hair at the sudden movement. “I did exactly as you said.”

“You're supposed to blow out the candle after I sing you Happy Birthday,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, you wish to serenade me, is that it?” She raises a brow and playfully smirks at him, those bright blue eyes of hers shining. Shiro swears he hears the mice snicker.

“It's not serenading.” He grins and starts turning as pink as the frosting. “It's just a song family and friends sing to the birthday girl?”

“Are you sure this isn't meant for children?”

“Well, it sort of is. But people of every age celebrate their birthdays like this, especially when they hit a certain age. Like, 50 years old, for example.” He raises his shoulders and smiles. “That's about half the lifespan of a human, so that's a big milestone.”

The smallest mouse lets out a loud squeak from Allura’s hair, which sends the others chittering back at him, and Allura does her best to ignore it. “Oh,” she says with a polite smile. “50 years old.”

“Yeah, I'm 25, so I've got a ways till then.”

Allura clears her throat and shifts in her seat, ignoring the chittering of the mice in her hair. She puts her fist under her chin in preparation, an amused smile of her own mirroring his, her voice suddenly light and airy. “Please continue.”

Shiro nods and switches off the little kitchen’s main light first. The mice instantly go silent. Then Shiro reaches over and lights the candle again, hesitating for a moment before starting the song. “Happy birthday to you...”

His voice is hushed in the quiet of the apartment, a little rough and certainly shy. But his voice is good enough to carry a tune, and Allura can't help but feel herself start to melt like the wax that's beginning to lazily drip down the candle.

She watches as he keeps his eyes focused on the cupcake, the flickering light of the candle setting his grey eyes aglow. Allura reaches over and holds his hand.

“Happy birthday, dear Allura.” He finally looks up from the cupcake and stares back at her, squeezing her hand. His voice is soft and soothing and the most beautiful, self conscious smile overcomes his face. “Happy birthday to you....”

Allura looks down at the candle and then back at him for approval to blow it out.

“You have to make a wish before you blow out the candle.”

“This is certainly for children.” She can't help but giggle, absolute music to Shiro’s ears, and she can feel her face flushing.

“Allura, please.” He laughs too and pushes his bangs up away from his forehead, feeling himself burning up. “I'm giving you the full earth experience.”

“Well,” she muses, “I certainly have two things I want the most. But I suppose I can only have one.”

“Don't tell me, or it won’t come true.”

Allura’s eyes soften as she watches the purple candle flicker, thinking of the two important things she wants most: Altea and Shiro.

Home is full of her friends and family and her juniberry flowers that she adores so much. It's full of Alteans like her, people who respect and know her. It's her her history, her culture that she misses so extraordinarily. It's her planet that was under siege, it’s her planet that could be gone, it’s her home that she's given up on ever seeing again, because it's been six years and they still haven’t found her on this little blue planet called Earth.  

Or there's the human man she’s known for a year that she's fallen hopelessly for. The man named Takashi Shirogane with the metal arm and white patch of hair. He’s a man with scars and trauma, but he perseveres through it all with a golden heart. He's the man who's helped ease her pain and has given her so much light that she feels like she might burst.

“I want you,” she whispers. Her eyes connect with his and he squeezes her hand again.

“You already have me.”

Allura blows out the candle and sends the room into darkness. She wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders and she holds him as close as she can possibly get to him, but even that is not close enough.

“No, I want you,” she whispers again, tugging at his shirt.

“Oh.” He presses a kiss against the side of her head, and smiles into her hair. “Anything the birthday girl wants.”

A light pink glow suddenly emits from the markings on her cheeks, the one she hides from humanity because they’re a little too eccentric for humans. Shiro kisses both of the pink little wings beneath her eyes and smiles at her, seeing that her eyes too, have morphed back into a celestial bright blue with pink pupils.

“I love seeing you this way,” he says warmly against one of her ears, pointedly kissing at her earlobe.

Allura lets out a startled laugh, and pushes at his face, unintentionally bumping him back into the table with her strength. “You only say that because my ears remind you of those elves from that ring movie you made me watch.”

“Guilty,” he says. He’s smiling that wonderful smile of his, staring at her with the softest of eyes. It makes Allura want to hold him and never let go.

A loud, protesting squeak makes the both of them jolt and Allura’s markings glow even brighter at the sudden outburst. The mice suddenly poke their heads out of her hair. 

“Alright, alright, Chuchule!” she says, allowing the mice to scurry down her arm onto the table. “You’re right, I know you would all like to try the cake. I’m sorry.”

The mice scamper over to the cupcake, and Allura can hear them squeak amongst themselves about how they’ll split it up. She gives Shiro a shy little smile before she wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer.

“Guess it’s better not to have an audience,” Shiro says with an equally bashful look. He leans in to get closer and pushes a stray lock of silvery hair behind her ear.

“I would agree.”

---

“Shiro.” Her voice is just above a whisper against the bed sheets, but it sounds so heavy. “I must confess something.”

“Oh no.” He smiles softly and kisses at her shoulder. His eyes close. “What is it?”

“Remember how you said humans reach half their life at the age of 50?”

“Mhm.”

“My species, the Alteans—we live...much longer than that,” she says.

His eyes flutter open. “How much longer...exactly?”

“Well.” She bites at her lip, suddenly feeling so ashamed for admitting her age. She remembers proudly announcing the lifespan of her people to other species when she was on Altea. Now that seems so long ago, lifetimes ago. “Assuming I did the math right, which I'm utmost certain I did, I'm around 200 earth years old.”

She doesn't have to look—she can feel him staring at her.

“Wow,” he breathes. “You really are a High Elf.”

Allura exhales a hot stream of air through her nose and pushes a hand against his face, frowning at him. “Enough of that, Takashi.”

Shiro laughs and tries to squirm away from her touch. “Okay, okay,” he says once he manages to get out of her grasp and smiles at her. “I yield. No more Lord of the Rings.”

“I thought it would...upset you?”

“I think it's... well... I think it’s amazing,” he says, taking her hand away from his face and holding it. “I can't imagine all of the things you've seen. And all the things you're going to continue to see and do.”

“I will outlive you.”

She sees his face tense for just a moment and he leans in to kiss each one of her knuckles. “Yeah, that crossed my mind for a second, but I guess I’d rather not think about that. Not when things are so perfect right now.”

“Oh, an optimist, are you?” She smiles faintly, and feels her heart squeeze in her chest like the way she squeezes his hand with her own.

“No, just a man that’s in denial.” He offers her a small smile, one that’s weak at the edges, eyes soft with a hint of sadness she didn’t want to see, but prepared herself for.

She lets out a long exhale, reaching over and holding his face so delicately in her hands. His face is youthful and perfect to her, even with the jagged scar etched across the bridge of his nose. Even with the shock of white in his hair. He’s beautiful. Her thumb runs along a small crease in his forehead and then over the little one at the corner of his mouth where he likes to shine the brightest of grins. “I suppose you’ll just have to be my Acorn.”  

Shiro stares at her for a moment. 

“I think what you’re trying to say is, Aragorn.” Shiro can’t help but snort and she’s relieved to see that sad look wiped from his face. “You’re talking about the human man in love with the elven lady from the movie, right? Aragorn.”

“That was most certainly not his name.” She can’t help but giggle along with him and squeezes his face in her hands, which only makes him laugh harder and turn the cutest shade of pink.

“Well, it definitely isn’t Acorn!”

[daniellesmithtv]

Body Confidence – The Vulnerability of Change

My clothes don’t fit.

I’ve gained 15 pounds in the last 18 months.

I detest getting dressed in a way I never have.

I’m disappointed that I can’t seem to make the necessary changes.

I abhor that I no longer feel like the role model of body confidence and self love I have always wanted to be for my children – especially my daughter.

I’ve been doing everything I can to hide how I feel.

But, it seems I’ve hit a tipping point.

For the first time in more than four years, some of my beloved Stitch Fix clothes don’t fit when they arrive. (that’s on me, not them.)

I stand in my full closet and struggle to find something that fits. And find I prefer anything loose. Or pajamas – yesterday I stayed in those until 1pm. That’s not me.

This past week….I attended a formal event and ordered dresses from Rent the Runway….there was one I REALLY wanted to wear and ordered it in my size (or what I *thought* was my size) plus one size up. When I couldn’t get it zipped up…I was hoping it was because of the empire waist and ruched material….I asked a friend to try. No go. She gently informed me the zipper had zero chance of making it….it was maybe two or three inches apart.

That’s a bad feeling. There is vulnerability in that type of moment – embarrassment and self-realization: I’m not the same size I once was. I may never be that size again.

I wore a back up that arrived in the wrong color and with stains on the back.

Like so many dresses I have chosen for the past year – it worked because it hid so much of me from the ribs down.

I did a bathing suit photo shoot with the most amazing, body-confidence inspiring company and was amazed that they succeeded in minimizing the things that make me self conscious (my waist/stomach) while accenting the good….but still confess to noticing the flaws first (my stomach, the texture of my skin). It’s clearly me, not them.

I know I haven’t made it seem as though I’m struggling with any of this and I get that this may seem trite, but I’m cringing as I type any of this. It took me a few hours to hit ‘publish’ as I continued to hesitate sharing.

Here’s the thing: I’m not ‘fat’. I get it. I know it. I’m still within the appropriate bounds for my height (though I have apparently lost an inch in this same time frame – what the actual hell?) So, yes….I was always on the thinner side of the spectrum and hated being told I ‘needed a cheeseburger’.

But now, I just hate how I feel. I don’t feel like ‘me’.

And I can’t figure out if that is just because my clothes don’t fit (I know it is a factor), because I’ve never been able to stick to an exercise regimen (I don’t fall in to the category of people who feel strong and energized by workouts – I’ve always felt exhuasted), that I can’t get past the number on the scale (silly, I know) or that I am struggling with the idea that I can’t reverse time and this is my new normal.

It is probably a combination of it all.

As I was typing this today, a friend messaged me some kind words – encouraging me to love myself at this stage…and recognize that how I feel should matter more than the numbers – the scale or clothing size.

She’s right. However, I admit it. I actually don’t feel healthy.

I don’t sleep well. I clearly don’t prioritize exercise. My stamina is suspect. I like cheese. Too much. I have failed at each and every new commitment to change (ie: exercise, eating adjustments).

But, as I shared on Instagram today (along with how I’ve been feeling)….I think I have found the motivation I need.

I’m failing my children. I’m failing to be the role model they need. Until recently, they had never heard me disparage my appearance or have to explain eating changes that fell in to the diet category. I want them to love themselves and focus on healthy living. My small girl is now moving deeply in to the teenage years – a time that body image can be a sensitive subject.

So, here’s my new committment to regain a healthy body image:

Yoga: With fibromyalgia, high impact activities can be hard on the body – but yoga is good for both physical and mental health. This will be a 5 times weekly practice – even if it is only for 20 minutes.

Meditation: I’m learning that my mental health is equally as important as my physical health. This is now a daily practice for peace, gratitude and focus.

Intermittent Fasting + Paleo: I’ve never been someone who loves breakfast, so the research I’ve done on this topic (plus my prior experience with Paleo) feels like the best fit for me – aiming to cycle between patterns of fasting (12-14 hours) and eating (meaning I would only eat, for example, between the hours of noon and 8pm). Additionally, I will predominantly avoid wheat, dairy and sugar. Because I know myself, I allow grace for the occasional addition of cheese to a meal. When I tried Paleo in the past, it was the healthiest I’ve felt – and at that time I did give myself a little bit of leeway.

Good people: If I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it is that surrounding myself by good people, good-hearted people – they make all the difference. I am grateful to all of my friends who model self-love and remind me that having a kind soul matters. I began this conversation on Instagram and have been brought to tears by the encouragement of friends who are lifting me up and reminding me to look inward as I figure this all out.

Focus on Feeling – I’m going to stop looking at the numbers – the scale, the size of the clothing I wear and focus entirely on what a ‘healthy me’ should feel like. It may sound silly, but this is going to be a challenge for me. I want to measure my progress in mental and physical health rather than by a 20-something barometer that used to be all I needed. This feeling includes choosing clothes that DO make me feel pretty….you’re going to see lots of loose dresses in my future.

It’s for the Kids: My small people deserve to have a healthy mother who can appreciate her growth of spirit and waist size. Comparing myself to the 25 year old version of me can be just as harmful as idealized body images in beauty magazines can be to my girl.

If you have additional suggestions, I’m open.

Thank you for being here.

The post Body Confidence – The Vulnerability of Change appeared first on Pretty Extraordinary.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2runZfa via IFTTT