#it felt cathartic to type all this out either way

[diffenbachiae]

my friend referred to me as ‘femme’ like a year ago now and i still think about it every single day. it eats away at me and i can’t figure out why other than that it feels WRONG. i’ve always thought of myself as butch and i can’t put it into words but it lives in the way i carry myself and interact with the world.

i can understand that the way i dress and look is feminine to most people- i have long hair, i wear a lot of jewelry and makeup, my favorite color is pink- if you’re going based purely on stereotypes, i’m very ‘femme’. however, the way i dress is also without a doubt queer. it is obvious to straight women that i am not straight.

so should i have to cut my hair and stop wearing makeup to be viewed as who i am? i could easily shave my head and start dressing in basketball shorts and t-shirts, and then suddenly how i’m labeled by my community would change. to do so would feel restricting and stifling. i feel much more butch in a long black skirt, black lipstick, and a leather jacket, holding the door open for my date. or lifting boats above my head at work while wearing pink glittery blush and heels. why should i stop dressing feminine? i’m a woman. why does my appearance continually dictate how others should treat me?

anyway, hi, i’m lizzie and i’m continually haunted by the queer dismissal of my rejection of my perceived identity. i think for me butchness is tied to my refusal to conform to society’s view of womanhood and subversion of gender roles instead of purely my gender presentation of ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’. if you’re a lesbian i’d love your thoughts on this and if you’re not a lesbian i also would like your thoughts but may take them with a grain of salt

[blushcoloreddreams]

7 tips for a thriving journal

Hello and welcome back to the blog my love!

I have been move to speak on the matter of journaling many times before, and today, with the new years spirit still around and everyone adding goals and new habits to their lives, I thought it would be nice to take pen to paper or rather... binary code to screen, and discuss the 7 ways you can improve your journaling life!

1. Read more

I’ll have to be honest with you guys ... the fact is that you are NEVER going to enjoy writing unless you also enjoy READING the written word. Now, we don't need to be cozying up in the evening with our personal diaries as reading material, but I have found that the more I read, the better (and more frequently) I write!

Reading more will stimulate your writing, inspire your words, and most of all, remind you that plenty of people have written millions of words on paper, and you can get through a daily journal entry. ;)

2. Get a pen you actually like

This might sound crazy, but I promise that you WILL write more if you enjoy the type of pen you're using. When I switched over to a really inky black gel pen, I found my cursive gliding over the page at RECORD speeds! It was simply a joy to write! So ditch that creepy pencil, say no to promotional pens, and pick out a cute gel pen!

3. Bring your journal with you everywhere

Most of us don't sit down at 8pm every evening and take pen to paper, outlining our days. Most of us have fluctuating schedules, thought-lives, and energy levels. I have found that bringing my journal with me has helped me write more often, get better ideas, and just... enjoy writing much more!

It changes from a chore to a full-on CHOICE! I encourage you to get a smallish journal and pull that baby out when you're waiting at the dealership, grabbing a coffee, or just... killing time while waiting for your date! It definitely beats scrolling through Instagram, and you will find that catching your most interesting thoughts before they flutter away is HIGHLY satisfying!

4. Use it to sort out your emotions

I remember tearing into my bedroom after a particularly negative ninth grade school day. I threw myself on my bed, snatched a pretty journal I had but never had found use for and began furiously writing about being ditched by my friends after a some intense political debate that took over not only school but the country in 2018 and even if I stayed neutral at the time, the opinion of people close to me was enough for them to slowly exclude me. Instead of wailing, crying, or screaming at my friends, I screamed at my journal. And it was SATISFYING!

As an adult reading back on my impassioned ninth grade emotions, it's shocking to me how intense I felt at the time, but I also find myself feeling quite grateful to have those feelings immortalized forever. I've always done this: recorded my intense emotions, good OR bad. When I fall in love with, my journal becomes filled with my heart's longings and thoughts from our very first weeks. I promise you, either way It’s a cathartic experience that will not only help you process and rationalize what you feel at that moment but also record those feelings and adventures for the future.

When I went through grief and really bad times, my feelings were also sprawled across the pages forever. And sometimes, I like to reflect upon those feelings to remind myself how far I've come, or of what our first love felt like. Journaling helps you work through your emotions, but it also helps catalogue your life in a really meaningful way. Try taking to the pages when you're struggling, in pain, or feeling supremely happy. :)

5. Rotate your writing & topics

In order to stimulate your writing, it's important to rotate through different topics AND different styles of writing. Instead of just writing daily journal entries about your life, try your hand at different categories. I enjoy writing short stories, poetry, daily diary entries, personal thoughts about cultural and social current events, things I wanna learn more about, my goals and future blog ideas!

You could write song lyrics, poetry, novel ideas, blog ideas; the sky is the limit! I encourage you also to not only try writing about different topics, but also try rotating the WAY you write as well. You don't necessarily need to write with a physical pen on paper every time either. Sometimes I prefer opening up google docs, or even this very blog!

6. Use it to connect with God

I like to write out my prayers sometimes... especially if they're really meaningful like prayers of repentance, supplication, or long lists of what I'm grateful to God for. It can help to stimulate your prayer life, AND keep a record of your personal spiritual breakthroughs.

7. Write letters to people

When my father died, we haven’t been in contact for a while but I felt like I still had much to say, words that I wished I had externalized before his passing. However there was nothing stopping me to write to him, even if it felt a bit silly and I knew he’d never read them, it could help calm my mind. So I decided to writing him a few letters could help me cope better with what had just happened, better understand our relationship and even myself.

Now, at first, it can sound pretty unappealing to write to someone who couldn't write back, but before I knew it, it felt like one of the best cathartic experiences I ever had. When my beloved great grandma passed I found myself writing longer and longer letters, detailing different thoughts, and even throwing in some creative writing. I spent so much time sharing my thoughts, feelings, ideas, and heart, that by the end of this all, I felt like I was already in the habit of daily journaling LOL!

So, if you need a spark for your writing habits, I encourage you to start sending some letters to your family members, friends or find a pen pal, I actually loved writing letters on peoples birthdays when I was younger and it was something I really enjoyed rediscovering. Even if the person doesn't write back much, it can really jumpstart your writing!

That's all I have for today my loves! I hope you feel inspired to start writing. Remember, if the notebook life doesn't work out for you, it's okay to turn to the digital keyboard! Just keep trying different angles until you settle on the right formula for you.

xoxo, Julia

[fanfictiongreenirises]

What are some themes in Jiang Cheng fan works that you especially enjoy?

I’m super sorry for how long it’s taken me to reply to you but you caught me during Eid week which was insanely chaotic 🤣 this got kinda long so i'm popping it under the cut :D

Violent and self sacrificial love: you cannot have JC without his all encompassing love, and it’s one of the things that makes him such an interesting character. There are few things that make JC act irrationally, and his loved ones are a very major one!! It’s such a fun thing to play with - I love characters that love with their whole self and stories that focus on the consequences of that!!!

Responsibility, duty, tradition: okay this is like many different things rolled into one rather niche dot point so bear with me. I LOVE that JC is a character who takes his responsibilities seriously!! He is dutiful and he does his best to put the sect before all else, and you have no idea how hard it is to find that in fantasy that I’m used to (Western YA and NA fantasy lmao). I really love fics that have that theme of sacrificing for duty and eventually reaping the benefits of that (the sect being so loyal to JC in return, the sect flourishing, the love that JL has for JC), but also fics that look at JC upholding YMJ traditions when he’s one of the few who remember them, or having to adjust traditions/make new ones because of that reason. And as I’m typing this out I’m realising there’s… probably a reason… for me enjoying seeing cultural traditions needing to be adjusted because you don’t have much family or the same resources around and things are very different from how your parents would’ve celebrated those same traditions, and needing to make those who are around your family now… Anyway, it’s just insanely cathartic to see certain cultural values and themes across so many fanworks. I've thought about this particular element to the point where I realised the other month that there’s a whole world outside of Western fantasy novels that likely do have these themes that are so fucking hard to find in Western novels, so I’m trying out other Chinese novels, i dipped into Japanese books, and I got my cousin to recommend me Bangla fantasy novels because I realised I’ve never considered how fantasy themes would be in my own culture 😔✊ (it's funny timing bc my dad arrived literally a couple hrs ago with the books, and my reading ability is decent for someone who's never needed to read Bangla but I'm gonna have to sit down with either google translate or a dictionary bc I'm so used to my parents translating harder words or getting us to read books for younger kids,, i'm like which words here are made-up fantasy words and which are real 💀😭)

Grief: grief has quite literally shaped this guy, and it’s so cool to see different fics have different takes on how it’s affected him as a person. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a fandom where grief has been such a huge theme and it’s very fun to see the fandom leaning into it. (I also need to given honorary shoutouts to disillusionment, guilt, loneliness, and repression!! I think a lot of these are especially interesting in combo with how much JC values responsibility and duty, and fics that study them are so chefs kiss.)

Turning Into His Mother: I’m so obsessed with this theme. I think it’s mostly because YZY is so mum coded for me and there are aspects of my own mother that I see in her so strongly that any time fic gives her and JC’s relationship the depth it deserves, I’m standing there chomping on wood. I especially love it when JC’s journey has elements of “I can’t be like my mother bc everyone says that’s bad” -> “I should act like my father, because he’s the only example I have of a sect leader” -> “am I difficult to love like my mother was?” -> “the best way to protect those I love is through the things my mother taught me” -> “the only parent whose love I genuinely felt was my mother’s so when I’m displaying love to a child, I should use the most successful method I know” -> “I am like my mother; maybe that’s a good thing”. It’s rare that I get to sink my teeth into a character who had such a complex relationship with his mother, so any fics with this theme automatically make me go insane. (Something here as well about JC written in fics as a woman scorned, JC with ruined woman vibes who’d been promised by WWX that he’d always be by his side and now isn’t and without any good reason that JC is aware of, something about fics that project feminine rage onto him in a way that feels freeing and safe because he’s a male character so it’s like you can almost examine it without having to examine sexism and gender roles…)

Aroace and queer themes: aro!JC!! ace!JC!! Never before have I been into a character I can project onto so fully, but also see other people projecting onto?? This fandom has so many gorgeous aroace!JC fanworks, and we get so much variety from ppls experiences!! there’s something extremely fulfilling about fics with a main character who doesn’t feel conventional romantic/sexual love, and is still very successful and has a full life with loved ones and is satisfied with life. There's also this tiny niche of fics involving JC in queerplatonic relationships, and any time I read those I would literally have to lie there for an hour contemplating my life. I think the other fun thing about this is that there's a pretty big chunk of the fandom that characterises JC as the kind of acesexual who thinks all his allo friends are absolute weirdos for how they're behaving, and it's such a funny and refreshing (and extremely relatable) take.

Whump: last but definitely not least, JC being whumped within an inch of his life 😌 I love this fandom deciding that the most efficient way to get JC to show emotions is to shove some knives in him and get him all bloodied up. The one gore/torture fic that genuinely icked me out to the point where I had to stop reading for a moment was a delightful post canon JC fic that I revisit every few months because it just scratches that whump itch so well 👏

I’m sure the moment I post this I’ll be hit by like fifty other things I forgot to put in here, but for now I’m blanking. thank youu for giving me an excuse to think about JC 🫶🫶🫶

[bluejelly8]

so i am sobbing uncontrollably after finishing Midnight Mass and I'm really glad i didn't see it sooner. Its very good but i was not in the place to see it or process it then and im still not sure if i am now, but i am typing this in tears because god fucking dammit I have lived pieces of that show.

little pieces, tiny pieces, but those pieces changed and defined so much of my life and in many ways still do.

For starters, Riley and I share a name and an attitude with the church. I have had the same conversation he had with his father at the beginning of the show many, many, times. I have been made to sit through my own confirmation and see the entire congregation look over at me as i sat in the pew because my fucking name was still in the hand out listing the confirmation candidates. My best friend got confirmed to appease her parents, but i was stubborn and i wouldnt on principle. That doesnt really matter and i dont want to ramble, but needless to say, going into this show i knew it would be emotionally heavy for me for that reason.

I have met so many people like Bev in my life. I have sat in churches just like St. Patricks and I know that is the point but Flanagan makes it well. I watched Riley sit back for eucharist and i watched the camera zoom in on his face and the empty pews behind him. I know that feeling. I know that feeling of isolation and loneliness in a place where supposedly you are never alone. Because god is in all his churches.

And i was so scared watching this show that i would watch him find faith where i have failed to. I have been burned so, so, so many times by atheist characters converting and its a celebration and 'thank god they found god!' and the relief i felt as he burned away on that boat I cannot describe. I dont honestly think i can describe how this show has made me feel at all, but i am still crying.

Hearing Erin's speech at the end. Watching Hassan and Ali pray on the beach, one last time. Seeing everyone gather in the square to sing, one last time. To praise their god one last time, to pray for his mercy and forgiveness and to know that they would be granted it. To watch John and Mildred hold their baby. To see that bitch Bev try to dig a hole in the beach only to die screaming and in agony. She is the only one who screamed.

I dont really know where im going with this, sort of just train of consciousness-ing this i guess. But i think there was something really cathartic in this for me and nothing nothing has left me this shattered yet whole before.

im not one to usually post anything here and the first rb or message i get from someone saying 'not all christians' or 'jesus loves you' or fucking anything like that ill delete this post and block the fuck out of you. You can keep that shit to yourself. Yeah i didnt have to post this, but you dont have to say anything, either. And that seems hostile but i am sick and tired of being told shit i already know.

[puppypeter]

RAAAHHHHHH your most recent bottom!Roy post is just *chefs kiss* PERFECTION!!!

I am endlessly fascinated by super masculine Alpha male type characters getting to bottom, and while slutty!Roy is a stroke of genius, I also LOVVVVEEE first time bottoming!Roy, because maybe its something hes always been peripherally interested in but because of his public persona/sports politics/internalised homophobia/internalised sexism, no one ever really ASKED, and he probably wouldnt have felt safe enough to try with a casual hookup even if they had.

ENTER JAMIE TARTT, PEOPLE PLEASER AND PRAISE SEEKER!

I do believe in my soul that Roy is a Dom, but I do think the intimacy and vulnerability of bottoming with Jamie would be something Roy would definitely be willing to explore. I think it would probably be super emotional and cathartic for Roy (and probably Jamie too, because could you imagine how overwhelming that kind of trust would be?), but both Roy and Jamie would really have to work up to it, because internalised homophobia is a complicated beast, and you can think you're not super effected by any ingrained ideologies until all of a sudden you're having a panic attack mid-Coitus.

There WILL be crying for both of them when they do finally work up to it though, that I know for absolute certain.

I still think Roy bottoming would probably be very rare though, even just purely because of how emotionally fraught the whole ordeal is, but I do think it would really be the kind of thing that just reaffirms how serious RoyJamie are about each other. Romantic sex that simultaneously unpacks our individual internalised issues, my absolute beloved ❤️

yay someone in my inbox screaming about bottom roy kent is what dreams are made of! 🥰🥰🥰

I agree with everything, there's many different ways it could be explored. Either as him becoming more and more stuck in his ways about sex too, like no I can't go back to that or even sadder, having a bad experience with someone, maybe a casual or not so casual partner making some comments that hurt deeper than they think and which make him swear to never trust someone that much again.

I also do love them being together, snuggling all warm and flushed and talking about the more vulnerable stuff and he (a little pouty and playing with his hands in a nervous manner in a similar fashion to jam tartt) wonders why would jamie assume he'd top though :( and he expect maybe jamie to laugh in a mocking way (like cmon have you seen yourself) but jamie just giggles and admits that he was just eager to selfishly have roy in him but he'd of course love to die a different death too

Also, while technically nobody's business, I can see the locker room talk around the topic and everyone straight up assuming Jamie bottoms cause I mean have you seen him (and the cake on him lol) so they're all a bit surprised when they somehow find out otherwise

I think my obsession comes with mostly Roy looking absolutely delicious when he's all flushed and he gets those rosy cheeks (Jamie 100% jokingly lovingly calls him doll), the thought of beefy baby Jamie looking after him in s.3 like he's so eager to court him and make sure he's got what he needs (sticks his hoodie on him, brings him tea, ice pack, hugs him from behind and kisses his shoulder like he did at the gala with keeley 😭). Ok this is not a post about roy kent bottoming anymore, it's about roy kent having equal rights to be looked after and treated like a prince by his boyfriend (whose mum and stepdad have made sure knows how to) and Roy being absolutely gobsmacked at the treatment because what the fuck is going on this is so nice I'm not used to this oh flowers? for me? but I am cooking you dinner Jamie shut up, you remembered the washing powder that doesn't irritate my skin? you bought me something because it reminded you of me?

(ok I'm self projecting on roy again and healing my inner child via him but as someone that also sees roy as a the post child for childhood emotional neglect i can see him being both overly touched but also thrown off by someone taking care of him and puttint his needs first, there's so much i want to say about that it would take a million words)

[jesse-cosay]

Kiss in grief

Amelia and Alrick

She had to attend.

Alrick was her fiance. Not quite married, but that had never mattered. He was her childhood best friends. Her partner in crime.

Her everything.

So she had to be there.

She had to attend.

If not for Alrick, then maybe for herself. She'd felt so alone in her grief up until now. Maybe- maybe seeing people- everyone who loved him-

Well. She was willing to try. He would want her to try.

Except this fucking sucked.

Amelia was never the type for formal events. She'd always pull Alrick aside- or he would tell her jokes the whole time. Anything to lighten the tension.  But nothing could lift the weight of this room. Not when there was no Alrick to curl his finger around hers. To mutter about the ridiculous old lady with a hat far too big for her head. Or the children, so clearly excited to see one another. Chattering in the back, completely oblivious to the gaping hole that swallowed all happiness sitting in the front of the room. Right next to Amelia. She only wished she could be so lucky as to ignore it.

"My condolences." He offered his hand to Amelia, shaking it firmly before turning to Alrick's mother beside her.

It was a never-ending line. People greeted Alrick. Greeted Amelia. Apologized for something- something they had nothing to do with. And then they left just as easily.

But the feeling in her heart wasn't something she could walk away from. She couldn't turn from the pain in her chest the way everyone else seemed to.

She leaned over, resting a hand gently on Mrs. Timmens's back. "Excuse me, I just- I need a moment."

Realistically she knew the line would die down. Eventually. But it felt so overwhelming.

All these people who loved Alrick. And not a single one of them was like her. Of course none of them had cared for him the way she had. How could they? Amelia would have known. Would have noticed if Alrick had been that close with someone.

Even Mrs. Timmens- she was his mother. Of course, she was sad. But she'd lost her husband the previous year. Ever since she'd heard the news it was like- it was like she went back to that moment. Losing her husband all over again. Not- not Alrick.

The sadness she felt was for someone else, it was like a repeating nightmare. But Amelia was completely cognizant. Painstakingly aware of her surroundings.

She only wished she could be as blissfully numb.

It was easy to slip away. The crowd that had gathered for Alrick's wake- Amelia didn't even recognize half of them. They didn't recognize her, either. Just friends of the family. Or friends of friends. No one important. No one that could see her and know that this loss was her's to bear.

It was a bit more cathartic to watch from a distance. With every person that had apologized and given her their condolences- she'd realized there was no real comfort in the words or the action. It wasn't for Amelia to feel better. It was Amelia comforting everyone else.

Tiring was the only word to describe it.

Just because she'd known him best- now she had to- to what? Relieve everyone else of that grief? Carry all of it herself? It made her feel sick.

"Excuse me," a woman stood next to her. Face bright red and her eyes glassy. It was the most bent out of shape of anyone Amelia had seen so far. Aside from herself.

"I just- I knew Alrick really well. He'd be so proud of you." Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Straining to get the words out.

"I'm so sorry, I just, could I-?" Without finishing her sentence she pulled Amelia into a tight hug. Squeezing her as if she could pull her inside her heart. Share the swirling emotion inside their hearts.

She sighed as she pulled away. Catching Amelia's eyes in hers. "You're amazing. Never forget how much he loves you, Amanda."

Without a moment to spare, she turned, heading off to some of Alrick's other family members.

This had to be a joke. Some cosmic entity was torturing Amelia. Testing her. What the fuck else could this be?

She could still feel the weight of the hug. The tackiness clinging to her skin, making her itchy. Amelia hissed as she marched off. Determined to put as much distance between her and everything. All of it.

A fat lot of good it did her. Leaving the service early to hide in her apartment the way she'd originally planned.

Her living room floor was just as unforgiving as the relentless apologies. As cold-hearted as the world that has stripped her of all reason and will. And told her to keep on going.

There was a picture frame beside her. She used to keep it on the end table, but there was no point now. Not when it hurt so much to look at.

That didn't stop her from clutching it now. Pressing a kiss to the smiling face in the portrait.

"I never got to say my vows," she sighed. "It was supposed to be you and me forever. Not just me."

"I can't do it if it's just me."

Alrick wouldn't want this for her. He hadn't wanted to die and leave her behind. It was never supposed to be like this.

He'd hate to see what a mess she'd become without him.

[retrieve-the-kraken]

9 favourite books

Thank you @gwiazdziarka for tagging me (and thanks for all those book recs, I’m adding all of them to my list, except for the ones that I’ve already read), and I agree, maybe all of these won’t be my absolute favorite books, but they’re either books that I think about a lot, or books that have a special place in my heart, but not necessarily something that I go back to over and over.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exúpery

This one is definitely a favorite. It’s a book that I’ve reread many times, because I feel that it has a different feel every time, depending on what I’m going through at that moment. Also a classic. Love it so much that I’ve started to collect editions in different languages; so far I have Spanish (of course), French, Italian, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Euskera (possibly one of the rarest), and Swedish (of course, because I intend to be able to read it by next year).

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

Also an absolute favorite, classic down-the-rabbit-hole type story that takes place in London Below. Fell in love with it, with the world-building within an already existing world. If i actually had to list 9 of my favorite books, pretty sure the whole list would be Neil Gaiman, but this book is both entertaining and comforting, so I pick this one. The BBC radio drama adaptation starring James McAvoy and Natalie Dormer is also excellent. Still waiting for the book sequel, though…

84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff

The most charming book in history, composed entirely of letters between an aspiring writer and rare books collector in New York and the manager of a rare books bookshop in London. Their relationship is platonic, and yet one of the most romantic things I have ever read. The movie adaptation is equally charming and it has Anthony Hopkins and Judi Dench in it. Read the book first, then watch the movie, then cry endlessly. Rinse and repeat.

Like a Hole in the Head by Jen Banbury

You should know that I get a lot of book recommendations from TV shows, so I decided to hunt down this book when Monica was reading it in more than one episode of Friends (felt like a subliminal message). And it was fucking worth it. Also a book about a book. A dwarf comes into a bookshop where the protagonist works, to sell a first edition of Jack London’s White Fang, and only after he’s gone she finds out just how rare it is. Heist plot ensues. It’s equally strange and exciting, mind-blowing and cathartic.

The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan

Very melancholy, this book is a collection of essays, poems and short stories published posthumously, as Keegan died in an accident at 21. She was very talented and could write convincingly about many things. Can’t even pick a favorite one out of the collection, because they’re all very good in very different ways. Very bittersweet.

Los Caballos Estornudan en la Lluvia by Dimas Lidio Pitty

Another short story collection (the title literally translates as “Horses Sneeze in the Rain”), from a Panamanian author, from the region where I spent my childhood summers, which still holds a very special place in my heart, and which has a mysticism about it that he helps preserve in these stories. Dimas Lidio Pitty was very good at magical realism. One of the stories in particular is so brief, but it’s incredible how good it is in such a short narration.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

I’m a huge fan of classic dystopic science fiction, and this one has got to be my favorite. The narrative is interesting, moves along at an excellent pace, and it covers everything. Another book about books too. If you haven’t read Fahrenheit 451, the premise is simple: in this dystopic society, firemen don’t put out fires, they start them… to burn books. Book banning to the extreme. What happens next? You need to read it to find out.

El Misterio del Solitario by Jostein Gaarder

I have been obsessed with this book (The Solitaire Mystery in English) by Norwegian author Jostein Gaarder since I started reading all his books when I was a teen (I don’t even know how I came across him, I just picked one up one day and went with it, it wasn’t even Sophy’s World, it was Through a Glass, Darkly). Of course Sophy’s World is probably the most famous, and it was very good, but this one is so strange and magical that I read it several times ages ago, and it was such a comforting book, and now I would like to reread. Maybe one day soon I’ll read it in Norwegian!

The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum

Another classic and favorite, which I have also read many times. Some people like Alice in Wonderland, some like Peter Pan, I like the Wizard of Oz. I like anything Oz related, the movie, the musical, Wicked (the musical, not the book, tho), everything. But the source material is still where it’s at.

No pressure tags: @makingupachangingmind , @voldiebeth , @raincitygirl76 and @phoebenpiperx .

[gaykey]

maybe bc i haven't been paying much attention for the past 6 months but i never felt like key changed, just that his pragmatism and the way he doesn't let anything stop his bag (which are things i used to admire abt him!) had their natural consequences. seeing him with shinee only solidified that, esp with what he said abt jjong complaining abt juice, we all said that when the song came out! he's always known fans' hearts best and that's what's made it more difficult to reconcile, bc why in that regard and not others? stanning one celebrity or not doesn't make a difference in the grand scheme of things but i'm still struggling with this for some reason when i found it so easy to drop other people i liked. idk sorry to dump this all on you, i know ur getting it from all sides, but you're one of the first shawols i followed and i feel like our journeys are connected even tho we don't know each other lol. sending love to you and yours <3

nah it's cool. it's cathartic for us to all discuss it. me too. i find it really hard to get my thoughts and feelings out in a coherent way sometimes, and these messages (the nice ones) do help me to sort out how i'm feeling, see other nuances i might not ect.

mmmm, so your saying he hasn't changed his behavior, but, his....work ethic? go-getter personality? has backfired on him in a negative way as of late? or, that that type of mindset was bound to result in something like this. (i'm paraphrasing you so badly i'm sorry idk what i'm talking about.)

that makes sense to me. because, as i have said, though it has proven to be a somewhat contreversial opinion, i truly don't think he's a bad or evil person.

mmmm, this is the struggle with me. kibum seems to have always known what the fans are discussing, what we want/need to hear, and are feeling.

i truly think the crticism hasn't been loud enough. which, makes sense. it always feels like a very small miority are willing to call out certain issues.

and it's the parasocials anon lol. idk how long you've stanned, but, either way, shinee just have a knack for making you feel really emotionally connected/dependent, some varying degreee of the two, to them. it's all the tough sad times evwryones been through over the years. it sticks with you and really strengthens the connection with them.

but yes! thank you for the love, anon! sending it right back <3

[mayxthexforce]

Meet Me Halfway || Myles & Jango

Plotted starter for @galaccias

If he closed his eyes long enough, Myles could still feel the arid winds of Mandalore on his skin, the smell of the sporadic storms in his nostrils, and the warmth of another's body against his own. That'd been so long ago. His life before slavery felt like a dream– a beautiful dream that kept him sane through all the hardships he faced in the Zygerrian arena. Zygerria wasn't Mandalore, it might share the type of hot and dry climate, but it was not his home. Myles refused to die anywhere but in his home, and then, once he managed to flee, he refused to die altogether. He had a man to find.

Jango Fett had made quite a name for himself.

The best bounty hunter in the galaxy, that's what people called him. Myles didn't doubt that was the truth, he'd heard plenty of stories, but most importantly, he heard about what happened on Galidraan when he paid a visit to the Governor, intending to retrieve his armor, only to find out —through a cathartically violent interrogation— that it'd been stolen from the Governor years ago by Jango himself.

He briefly returned to the Mandalore System to get a new set of armor, painting it the same as he did his old one, and soon, he became The Copycat. It was ironic. The armor Jango now wore was Myles' first, the color pattern was of his own making and yet, HE was the copycat. If it wasn't for the fact that it was Jango, Myles would really mind the misunderstanding, he would have killed his copycat– and Jango would have, too. That's why Myles' plan would work. Just like the stories about the great Jango Fett spread like wildfire, the stories about Jango Fett's copycat travelled through the galaxy faster than any ship thanks to holos and comms.

All Myles had to do was stay on one planet, and let it be known he was staying on that planet. But he wasn't always in the same place– he was a Mandalorian, a slave on the run, and there were more people than Jango after him.

Nar Shaddaa had a lot to offer when it came to hiding in plain sight and entertainment. Few people stood out there, and those who did did so in a way that told others not to mess with them. That is what Myles believes without a shadow of a doubt– or he did, until he came across the CHILD while walking around the crowded streets full of eye-sore inducing holos and neon lights.

At first, Myles was certain he was hallucinating. Then, as he watched people knock into the kid and it became clear that was a tangible, REAL child, he began blaming his age, the thousands of lights, even entertained the possibility of not being as mentally sound as he believed himself to be because that child looked exactly like Jango when Myles met him. To the point it caused what Myles could only describe a whiplash-like effect on a mental and emotional level. However, it didn't last long, because the kid was in trouble and every pinch of Mandalorian DNA in Myles' veins burned with rage as he watched some thugs shove the kid around.

He approached with the quiet yet intense stride of a seasoned hunter, shoved past one and grabbed the one closest to the child, punching the guy in the throat and shoving him towards his buddies. Myles' blaster was out in a moment, aimed with one hand, while the other went to grab at the kid's arm so he wouldn't run off. He might not be okay with strangers roughing up a child, but he needed answers.

"The kid's with me," he said. "And I don't take kindly to strangers putting their hands on my kid."

Whether it was because of the very real threat of the blaster or because they, like many others, fell for the idea that he was Jango Fett, they stepped back. Myles didn't care. Either option worked for him, because they stepped back and dragged their still recovering idiot away with them. Myles' expressionless visor remained on them until he lost sight of them. Then, and only then, did he turn his gaze to the child.

"Are you okay?"

[crescent-lunatic-wolf]

I don’t know what to call myself in relation to this otherkin/therian/alterhuman stuff. It’s still kinda new and scary TERRIFYING TBH. Half the reason I created this blog was to sort this out, though, so dammit if I’m not gonna try.

Once upon a time, I was a dumb kid with an extremely overactive animation. And I mean extreme. I had an imaginary friend that I could not get to ‘go away’ until i basically had an existential crisis and screamed at him.

Sorry, old buddy, but I was starting real school and I needed to at least look normal. Im sure you understand.

This was just the first of many incidents where I felt obligated to cynically crush my more outlandish thoughts into a ball and stuff them away in a corner forever.

Then later I figured out that I’m trans. A lot of things started to make much more sense after that: why I hated puberty so much, why I felt too ‘soft at heart’ compared to other ‘boys’, why I oh-so-despised how I looked…

That was over 8 years ago.

Now, much more recently, as in within the week at time of typing this, a bunch of old thought patterns kinda cropped up at once. I am certain that this had something to do with the recent super moon, though. I don’t know if it was something I subconsciously did to myself, or if talking about werewolves just unlocked the forbidden corners of my brain or what, but the thoughts are back and hoo boy.

When I was a younger, edgier, egg-ier teen, I loved werewolves, conceptually. The very concept of wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing except its more wolf-in-human-skin was, in a word, rad. I knew it was a mythological, fantastical concept (logically speaking, I still do), but oh my god how cool would it be to be that kinda monster?! I didn’t care how alienated it’d make me (though to be fair I was already kind of a weirdo outcast). Raw meat, hunting animals or even people by the full moon? Cathartic af. That sheer power, to be able to assume the form of a terror of nature, to be one with and at home with the moonlit wood… I would kill* for that level of freedom and… and…

*PAST tense, I’m not exactly a serial killer in the making here

What is that other feeling though? It was good, I know. Almost addictive. Satisfaction? Desire of some sort?

Whatever it was, it felt right. …and that’s exactly why I had to suppress it. I was only setting myself up for heartbreak by pouring my soul into this idea of being/becoming something that, by all means, doesn’t exist.

Once upon a time, I thought I’d never be a woman, either.

So fuck that noise. This werewolf-at-heart is back. I don’t care if its an unrealistic dream/goal/whatever-the-fuck, it makes me happy, dammit! Like on some kinda spiritual level or something.

So yeah. I think that makes me alterhuman, otherkin, and/or therian? I’m not 100% on the distinctions, but I want to find out. I can at least comfort in the knowledge that, clearly, I’m not the only one who feels this way. Hopefully at least some o’ y’all can accept me into the fold.

- C

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

No matter what, the dewdrop bells continue to bloom

Dewdrop bells, despite their fragile appearance, are actually quite robust and resilient. They used to be quite abundant in some parts of the world, at least before wars started constantly breaking out. Once the fires stopped burning and the people either died out or left, nature has been slowly reclaiming the land.

By chance Libe and Katsumi passed by the old territory where Katsumi and Emiko’s family once ruled. They were with Qingmei on a mission around the outskirts, a run of the mill exorcism type - nothing out of the ordinary. For years most avoid venturing out around those areas because of the demon remnants but now it seems that enough time has passed that the danger has significantly lessened. It’s still closed off to the general public so only people who know how to fight demons like those three are permitted to cross so they can contain the remnants.

The mission itself went as smoothly as it can go for an exorcism/containment type of thing. Although the demon remnants have weakened, they’re still exceptionally powerful and dangerous, which was why Katsumi and Libe were sent to assist Qingmei. But because of how closely Katsumi is connected to the demons that once resided there, that a risky decision where it was ultimately decided that the benefits slightly outweigh the danger. In other words, it’s the kind of situation that only Katsumi and Libe can deal with since they had been directly involved when the demons broke free and then defeated by them.

As expected, the land has changed a lot since Katsumi and Libe left for good. Libe says that all signs of war and destruction are almost gone, as if the wars never happened. Now the land is no longer burning, the grass never looked greener, and the dewdrop bells have taken root. In a way, it was kinda cathartic, they said, because it meant that despite the destruction left behind, at least something good came out of it.

Because there were so many, Libe and Qingmei couldn’t help but pick a bunch of them. Dewdrop bells not only make nice houseplants, but they also serve as medicinal herbs, specifically for tea to soothe anxiety. They aren’t exactly rare, but they are kinda hard to get, so Qingmei wanted to collect a bunch to give away. And so that’s why we now have a bunch of dewdrop bells at the camp.

After defeating the remnants and collecting dewdrop bells, the three headed back to Qingmei’s place. Along the way, they got caught in a storm and had to stop by a village several miles away. Looking back, Libe said they should’ve realized something was up when they and Katsumi felt strange after talking to some of the villagers. The villagers had a sense of paranoia around them and the more Libe walked down the streets, they couldn’t help but find the village familiar.

It wasn’t until after the three of them settled in an inn when Libe recognized the village they had often passed by all those years ago. Obviously the place had changed a lot, especially since most who had fled eventually settled here. Though the era of continuous wars had long passed, there was still an air of ongoing conflict in those lands. Along with the demon remnants, that’s another reason why most avoid these areas.

There’s a good reason why Katsumi and Libe left for good, and it’s not just because of trauma. A villager recognized Katsumi as a former child of darkness and tried to attack him at the inn. Word got around and a mob nearly broke out if Libe hadn’t managed to deescalate the situation. The owner, who knew nothing about Katsumi’s past, was apologetic and insisted that the three of them stay in a private room instead of going back out in the rain as it’s in the middle of nowhere.

Katsumi was - and still is - a unique situation as a child of darkness. So far, he’s the only one who not only defeated the demons who consumed him at birth and regained full control of his body, but also still alive as an adult. That’s because most children of the dark don’t survive infancy as they’re usually left to die. Katsumi got lucky as he was adopted by a doctor who built him artificial limbs and taught him how to fight demons. By his mid-teens, around the time he met Libe, he was an expert at demon fighting despite not being able to see. When he and Libe started traveling together, Katsumi began gaining more control and autonomy over his body, which in turn allowed him to form a personality as he became more aware of the world around him.

Even now, the others describe Katsumi as extremely mature in some ways, utterly naive in others. Gaining control of his body has its advantages and drawbacks, most which still bother him today. Physical weakness is one thing but overstimulation is an ongoing problem for him. As a result, Katsumi can’t handle crowds, mainly because of the noise, so he has to take that into consideration. He does say that he’s been doing a lot better as he can sorta handle small crowds if he’s wearing earplugs, but for the most part he’d rather avoid that whenever possible. Emiko also says that he’s gotten a lot better at speaking and expressing himself more, something that he struggled with a lot when he first regained his voice. Libe had described him as an overcurious toddler during that time, which is funny to picture but at the same time I can totally picture it.

At Qingmei’s suggestion, Libe’s gonna look into counseling and possibly meds and hopefully talk Emiko into considering it too. To say that Libe, Emiko, and Katsumi have lived through hell is an understatement. The era of war has long past but unfortunately PTSD doesn’t have a time limit. As cheerful and happy go luck as Libe can be, they admit that every so often they’re plagued by nightmares. By now they’ve kinda learned to live with it but at the same time it’s not really healthy, so that’s why they’re gonna seek treatment and hopefully put an end to that.

As for Katsumi, he’s going through what the others call growing pains. Basically he’s been having some mood swings and becoming a bit more argumentative, which was predicted. Libe and Emiko find it frustrating sometimes but at the same time they’re glad that he’s asserting himself more. It’s that whole mature and immature thing he’s go going on there, except instead of the immaturity of a child, Katsumi’s got the immaturity of a teenager. Aside from that, he’s still the same old Katsumi, just a lot more reassured now, which is nice to see. Even though I don’t know him too well, I can see how much he’s changed.

But of course, we all have our good days and bad days. That’s part of the reason why Qingmei made the camp her last stop for dropping off flowers so she can invite the others to stay for a couple days. Plus, Libe, Katsumi, and Emiko are long overdue for a visit. The incident at the inn has shaken up Libe and Katsumi quite a bit. It’s one of those things where you think you’ve gotten over something, only to be met with a harsh reminder unexpectedly and that kinda sends you down a spiral.

Katsumi’s journey to overcome his demons was no easy path and along the way he was forced to make some hard decisions, many which left disastrous consequences. To be fair, it sounded like a lose-lose kind of thing so as shitty as it sounds, there were no good outcomes. Katsumi regained what was rightfully his, but at a price. Emiko, if it weren’t for fate, would’ve easily headed down the same road as their father has she not stood up against him.

In the end, what’s done is done and there’s no turning back. Although Libe, Katsumi, and Emiko have long since made peace with the past, that doesn’t mean it still can’t hurt them today. And after fighting for so long, once the danger has passed, the three of them had felt lost because they never expected to survive. It’s something we don’t really put much thought into - what comes next? Qingmei and Raiden felt the same too as finding answers was their reason for living so when their journey ended, they were at a loss because they were so busy in fight mode that they forgot what it’s like to live.

Out of the three, I think Katsumi’s struggling the most since he had been fighting demons since he was a child. His existence, even now, has always been branded as a curse. Libe has always been resilient and tough because of their upbringing so survival was always on their mind. Emiko, aside from the father, lived a somewhat comfortable life due to her family’s status, so she kinda had a baseline for what “normal” is unlike the other two. I can’t imagine what it’s like going through what they had. Overcoming a seemingly doomed fate is one thing, to continue living life after dealing with trauma is another.

Aside from the incident at the inn, Libe and Katsumi were kinda glad that they went back. In a way, by being right there, they said it sorta gave them closure over what happened. While it brought back a lot of unpleasant memories, the sight of the dewdrop bells kinda stopped them from going into a downward spiral. Dewdrop bells were once a rare sight in these parts and now they’re growing everywhere, slowly claiming back the land that was torn apart by violence and greed.

Something about a desolate and dreary scene full of flowers taking bloom feels reassuring to my mind. Bad things will happen, but so will good things. Even when times are tough, no matter how low it gets, some good will break through eventually. What’s lost can’t be brought back, but that doesn’t mean something new can take its place.

The past is a distant dream, I once read somewhere, once you’ve lived it, you can’t go back. No matter how much it claws at you, it can never fully overtake you because the past you has been long gone. As much as the past hurts, you cant’t erase it completely either, so the only way is to accept it and move on. And that’s what Libe, Katsumi, Emiko, Qingmei, and so many others have done.

As for the people in that village, it sounds like they’re stuck in the past. There’s some thing that you may not fully get over but you just have to make peace with it, that’s what Katsumi’s doing. It’s not his fault that people are still riled over the fact that he exists and is living as a walking and breathing human with thoughts and dreams. To them, children of the dark belong in the darkness as they are nothing but monsters for demons to feed on. They blame him for their misfortunes when in reality it’s the fault of those who make deals with demons in the first place. Katsumi didn’t ask to be born, nor did he expect to be fed to the demons so someone else can gain fame and fortune at such a price.

The fact that he didn’t succumb to the darkness is a miracle. That’s why Libe tells Katsumi’s story for those who will listen, to show that all is not lost. If Katsumi was able to change his fate, then there’s hope for other children of darkness. So far, no one has encountered any - which is a good thing actually - but if they ever do, Katsumi hopes to help them like Libe did for him.

Libe’s story of the dewdrop bells has got me thinking a lot about what it means to move on. It’s not as simple as overcoming adversity, and it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows either. To move on from the past is to live. It sounds vague but sometimes that’s all it takes. To be alive is a sign that you’ve made it, and like the newly bloomed dewdrop bells, you too will eventually find somewhere to take root and grow.

[thousandyearphantombunker]

Vent: people who praise the owl house for how it wrote Belos and handled oppression baffle me... talking about how TOH handled white supremacy and cults and colonialism so well and how stinky universe did it so bad and Amphibia didn't have any themes of oppression or anything like that- excuse me did we watch the same shows? Belos fails to portray himself as anything but a pathetic asshole- he barely qualifies as a white supremacist- his rule is fairly free of oppression and he doesn't fit the definition of colonizer- he was the son of colonizers but he himself is not a colonist- more of a conman making his way into politics and while he founded a new religious movement that was bad he's not a cult leader- the owl house is a power fantasy about fighting monsters like what belos is supposed to be but fails to actually write them as the monsters there supposed to be. I'm Latina and autistic and gay I should be overjoyed by Belos dying and being treated as pathetic but I'm not. I'm disappointed. It's so underwhelming- I felt no catharsis from his death This fandom talked massive shit about Steven universe (who is openly emotional, Jewish and fat and the show doesn't downplay those features) for being a 'boring white kid who gives nazis hugs' ignoring any nuance or depth and claiming the show had all kinds of anti-black rhetoric (yes the show that follows the principals of restorative justice, and has a huge cast of diverse POC or atleast heavily coded as POC characters is CLEARLY very anti black) and how TOH did everything better by making Luz a brown latina girl (she barely looks afro latina to me) who kills the bad guy. Luz is a Mary sue- and her killing Belos doesn't make her this unique special snowflake who is saving the world from Steven universe's 'sins and failures' TOH didn't do anything like that. First of all Steven Universe's 'sins' (cause yes that show had flaws) where over exaggerated- the human zoo also was like portrayed as a BAD thing-yes the captives smiled and they made jokes about it but they clearly showed how badly this affected the humans there- how psychologically unwell they were and how their lives had no meaning and where controlled- and the concrete situation while godawful turned out to be less 'rebecca sugar is a horrible racist' and more of 'wasn't thinking about what this looked like'. And second of all all those bad faith critiques of SU can be applied to the owl house. TOH should've just committed to being a power fantasy either about fighting creeps like Belos are about living in a world without people like Belos and being a badass in a fantasy world. But they set up all these fantasy vs reality themes and couldn't commit to whether or not the Boiling isles was being ruled by an oppressive government or was free of oppression and tried to mix it in with a badly done commentary on the school system and how being neurodivergent feels- it doesn't mesh well together at all. Steven universe for all its flaws did it better- Steven Universe knew it was a fantasy about fighting against oppression- just not a violent fantasy - it's a pacifist fantasy and it's cast was really diverse in terms of body type and race. Toh would've worked better if it admitted it was a fantasy too- a different one from Steven universe, one that was more about cathartic rage and used violence. But no it wanted to be deep and it failed. Amphibia also should get a fuckton more praise but it's not as blunt as TOH so it gets ignored

[evelynandcelia]

Why Not Take All Of Me?

Read on AO3 here!

CHAPTER 5

I had never stepped foot in George Martinez’s office before, even though he was technically my publicist. Harry hired him after I married Rex to help push the stories we’d been concocting. From what I’d seen in the rags, he’d done a good job. Celia and I had been back together for three years at that point, and there hadn’t been a single article that hinted at us being anything other than “the best of friends.” I wasn’t sure if Harry had told George about Celia or if a Hollywood publicist had just naturally tried to keep the word “thespian” as far away from my name as possible. Either way, George Martinez knew everything about us after receiving that envelope.  

He was a short man with a tan, leathery face and thick eyebrows. When he spoke, he was pragmatic first and foremost. For some reason, I immediately trusted him. It helped that Harry had such confidence in him. If Harry liked him, he had to be on our team, so to speak. As I sat in his small, dark office, looking at the wall covered in pictures of familiar, famous faces, I wondered how many other queer stars he had helped keep in the closet. And, in that same moment, I wondered what Celia was doing.

“We have a few options in front of us, Ms. Hugo.” George splayed his meaty hands out on the desk and began tapping the wood with his middle and pointer fingers. “The first is the easiest. We give the rags another story in exchange for yours.”

I took a pack of cigarettes out of my purse, stuck one between my lips, and began clumsily searching for a lighter. Harry pulled one out of his pocket and lit the cigarette for me. The cathartic action of inhaling and exhaling the smoke calmed me. After a few seconds, I felt composed enough to answer without my voice trembling. “I thought we weren’t even sure the magazines had the photos.”

“We’re not sure, but it’s never a bad idea to be a step ahead. Until the detective can give us some intel on who this pervert with a camera is, we need to be covering every base. Because if this story gets out somewhere…”

“We know, we know,” Harry said, waving a hand. “How would this work, George? Have a journalist write up a fake article about someone else?”

“No, the rags want proof nowadays – a few of them nearly went bankrupt in the 50s thanks to all those libel suits. We’d need a real, juicy story that would sell them.” He reached into a drawer and produced a folder. “I have one that they just might bite.”

Harry flipped open the folder, revealing two portraits of high-school-aged girls. One was Celia. Her face was rounder, her hair a little lighter, but I would recognize that cupid’s bow anywhere. 

“What is this?” I asked, setting down my cigarette on the ashtray and picking up the two photos. Beneath them, there was a thick stack of typed pages.

“That is Eleanor Thompson: high-school sweetheart of Celia St. James.”

My mind flashed to the day after the Little Women premiere when I saw Celia standing outside my house, wringing her hands and pacing. She said there had been a girl in high school, her best friend, who she’d been with romantically. And I told her I didn’t want to hear about it because I was scared, confused, and jealous that someone else had seen her like I had.

That girl was Eleanor. Celia’s first crush was willing to ruin her for a quick payout. Damn her, I thought to myself. Damn her.    

“This girl, Eleanor, sold her story to Sub Rosa years ago, but we managed to cover it up with some artful dodging and a few well-placed checks. At the time, Harry told me it was just as important to keep Ms. St. James’ reputation clean as it was yours.”

I looked over at Harry and he just nodded. It was shocking to think I hadn’t heard about any of this but I was grateful to Harry for protecting Celia so diligently. I never knew how close we always were to losing it all. 

“Why on earth would we push the rags to publish this instead?” I slammed the photos down on the desk. I inadvertently smudged the ink on Celia’s photo, smearing her left eyelid slightly. “You just said it yourself – we have to protect Celia too.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hugo, but it’s too late for that,” George replied. “I don’t have another story of this magnitude to give you. The only reason I have this one is because I’ve been working double-time trying to keep Celia’s name out of the press. If you flip through that folder, you’ll find a slew of other accounts, all about her and her… hobbies. People have been talking about her for years.”

I visibly flinched at George’s choice of words. Being gay certainly wasn’t Celia’s hobby.  

“So, what are you saying? That we should trade this disgusting expose for the photos because something is inevitably going to come out about Celia at some point? That is so far off the table. No. Absolutely not. Never.” 

“Evelyn.” Harry put a hand on my forearm. “Just think about this for a moment. I don’t like it either, but our options are slim. Half of Hollywood has talked about Celia. Rumors were circling before I even hired her for Little Women, and that didn’t stop her from winning an Oscar.”

“You know as well as I do that an expose would still be career suicide. She’d never act again,” I said in a low voice. My fury from earlier was bubbling at the surface again. How could either of them think publicly outing Celia was a viable alternative? I briefly wondered if anyone would notice if I got up, left the room, and screamed at the top of my lungs in the hallway. I also wondered if I even cared if they noticed.   

“Yes, she would,” Harry said. “This Eleanor girl doesn’t have any photos, and neither do any of the other women Celia’s been with. They’re eye witnesses, but eye witnesses lie. Celia can do an interview and clear it all up. Hell, she can sue the magazine – it doesn’t matter. In a few years, it’ll be old news, and Celia will still be a star. And, well…”

“What?” I spat.

“Celia has always been open to the idea of the world knowing about her. I think you know that better than anyone.”

To even entertain the possibility of punishing Celia to save my own stardom was unthinkable. Yes, I knew that Celia had fantasies about living her life out in the open. But she was the kind of woman who enjoyed fantasies – that was why she had become an actress. In our relationship, I was always the one who had to deal with the hard truths, the one who had to clean up all the messes. She resented me for it just as much as she knew she needed it.

If I let them print that story, I would lose her forever. She would never forgive me. That much was obvious to me.

“Please, put this away. Actually, don’t – burn it. I never want to see this or hear about this ever again.”

“Evelyn…” Harry started. 

“I’m serious, Harry.”

George took the folder and put it back in the desk drawer. “That only leaves us with one avenue, Ms. Hugo. We have a private investigator looking into who took these. When he finds this perv, we’ll talk to him.”

“Talk to him?” I asked. “Is that a euphemism?”

George laughed boisterously. “Yes and no. I know some guys who handle things like this for a living. We’ll see what he wants and pay him off. Might cost a pretty penny, but peace of mind is worth it, yeah?” He sighed deeply, and it felt like his whole body lifted and then fell. “There’s still the chance that he’s already given the photos to the rags. If so, we’ll have to wait for the magazines to publish the articles before we can sic the lawyers on them. That’s how it works.”     

“How long until this private eye can dig something up?”

George shrugged his broad shoulders. “A day or two if it’s easy. A week if it’s not.”

“If the rags have the photos, they’ll be out in less than a week.”

“I know. That’s why I offered you Celia’s story.”

I hated hearing her name coming out of his mouth. Not because I thought he was a bad man – I knew he was just trying to do his job and save his client. I hated that Celia was even in this conversation in the first place. I wanted to keep her on a pedestal, far away from the griminess that was Hollywood’s underbelly.

“Well, then we’ll have to wait.” I stood up, grabbed my purse, and put back on my sunglasses. “Call me the second you hear anything. I will give this man every cent I have. I just want this handled as quietly as possible.”

“That’s what everyone wants,” George said with a slight nod. “I’ll do my best.”

•••

When I got back to my house, Celia was gone. She hadn’t left a note, and when I tried to call her, she didn’t pick up. I called her agent, Roger, and he told me she had flown to New York to spend the week with John at the apartment they shared on the Upper East Side. 

Good, I thought. She’s cooling off. But I had a feeling it was worse than that. When you hurt Celia, she did her best to hurt you back; I would have to face her indignation sooner or later. I hoped that by then, I’d have found a solution to the photos. I thought that those disappearing would make her happy.

Three days later, the private eye delivered the good news: He had found the man responsible for the photos.

The second Harry called, I rushed to George’s Santa Monica office. When I arrived, Harry was already there, looking over the file the detective had gathered.

“His name is William Porter,” George said. “He was in the Navy for a brief stint after high school before moving to Los Angeles. Started taking photos in the early 50s and has been at it ever since.”

Harry handed me the file. There was a photo clipped to the edge of the folder. It was of a slim, fair-skinned man in a sailor uniform. He wasn’t handsome by any stretch but he wasn’t unattractive either. He had a sharp jaw and an easy smile. I don’t know why I was so surprised. By that point, I should’ve known that most horrible men are good at hiding behind kind eyes. I thumbed through the file and began to read.

William Porter was a recluse photog with a long list of lawsuits. He’d been hired and fired from every magazine in the city and had spent the last few years freelancing. Hollywood scandals were his bread and butter, particularly those that had to do with bombshell leading ladies. “Creep” didn’t even get close to what this man was. He was every bit as much of a predator as Ari or Don – he just didn’t have the fame to help cover up his hideous nature.

“He’s smart. We think he’s done this before and gotten away with it. All those lawsuits in there are superfluous. Nothing sticks to the guy. We even caught our investigator in the act. The two had a surprisingly civil conversation.”

I closed the file and put it back on George’s desk. “He wants money?” I guessed. I was already willing to give every cent I had to bury those photos. No dollar amount would have been too high. My whole life was on the line.

“He doesn’t want money, Ms. Hugo. According to our investigator, he just wants to meet you.”

The look of disdain that washed over my face must have startled George because he gave me an uncharacteristic nervous smile. “He said he’s willing to get rid of all the photos and never send them to the rags if you just sit down with him. That’s it.”

I would have rather handed William Porter a check for a million dollars than sit down and hear whatever was in his twisted brain. I didn’t want to be within thirty feet of a man who would use private, intimate photos as blackmail. The thought alone made me want to hurl. 

But, once again, my options were slim. If I wanted to protect myself and Celia, I had no choice.

“I’ll do it. If it means these goddamn photos go away forever, I’ll do it. But I want Harry to come with me.”

George shook his head. “His demands are clear: just you and him. It can be in a public place, though, and you can choose the location.”

“So I have to put my safety on the line?” I looked at Harry. He was refusing to meet my gaze. He just kept staring straight ahead.

“Wherever you choose to meet him, I can plant a few strong guys,” George said. “If he tries to touch you, they’ll step in.” 

“Fine.” I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. This wasn’t anything new – just another obsessed fan. I could do this. I was Evelyn goddamn Hugo, and I could do this. “Okay. Tell him I’ll meet him at Cole’s tomorrow afternoon.”

George was already dialing a number on his rotary. “You got it. One conversation, that’s it.”

The thing is, that’s never it. I should’ve known that no man has ever wanted just a conversation with a woman like me. 

•••

On the day of the meeting, I wore a long-sleeve black sweater and bell-bottom jeans. It was hot in L.A., but I wanted to display as little skin as possible. The sweater had a mock turtleneck design, so my cleavage was completely hidden. 

I arrived ten minutes early, chose a booth in the back of the restaurant, and ordered a Coke. When he arrived, he walked in with a confident swagger that made me ill. He was dressed casually in jeans and he was wearing glasses. I thought he looked both completely and utterly normal and simultaneously repulsive.

“Ah, Ms. Hugo. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time now.” He was so cordial and self-assured that I thought he might offer me his hand to shake as if we were here to discuss a new script or a sponsorship deal. Instead, he just smiled and sat down across from me.

“Whatever it is you want to ask me, just get on with it,” I said in a hushed tone. I wanted to scream each word at him, but I knew I had to keep this conversation as tactful as possible so as not to raise suspicion from the other diners. All I needed was an article in PhotoMoment about me acting hysterical in Cole’s on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Can we order something to eat first? I’m starved.” He casually picked up the menu and began reading it over.

I was silent when the waiter came to our table. William ordered a French dip. He laughed under his breath when the waiter did a double-take after seeing me. 

“You must get that a lot. Hollywood’s blonde bombshell.”

I wanted to tear his goddamn head off. “Please. Just tell me what you want. Whatever you want, I can make it happen. Do you want a role? I can make a phone call right now and get you into whatever movie you want.”

He shook his head. That smug smile was still plastered on his face. “That’s quite alright. I’m no actor, believe me. Evelyn – may I call you Evelyn?”

“I don’t care.”

“Evelyn, I don’t want your money or your connections. I’m a simple man. The only thing I want is to photograph you.”

My mind went blank. “Are you joking? You’ve already taken hundreds of photos of me. What more do you want?”

“I’ve taken candid ones, yes. And while I think those are great, I want something a bit more polished. I want you to pose for me. See, I have an…affinity for all things beautiful, and I want to add you to my collection.” He folded his hands on the table. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You would be my pièce de résistance.”

He didn’t say what type of photos he wanted, but it was easy enough to assume. Just like every straight man in America, William wanted to see what I didn’t give up in Boute-en-Train.

Before I could answer, the waiter returned with William’s French dip. I kept my head down, hoping the waiter wouldn’t compliment me or ask me for an autograph. Thankfully, he didn’t.

“You’ve done this with other women,” I said in a stoic tone. I thought about Ruby and how Don had abused her just as he had abused me. It was always a cycle. One girl was never enough for any of them. They had to have every beautiful thing their eyes landed on.

“A few. Though, I will say, you’re the first with some serious dirt on you. A lesbian affair? I couldn’t even get that on Katherine Hepburn, and she’s the biggest dyke in Hollywood.”

I looked up at him with a mixture of horror and outrage. “God, you are disgusting.”

“I’m not unkind, Evelyn.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing loudly. “I don’t want to sell those photos to the rags. I don’t want to see your reputation ruined. I just want a few photos of you for my private collection. You’re lucky that I’m not one of those photogs who gets off on selling secrets. If I were, you and your girlfriend would already be on the front of every magazine in the nation.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was just about at my limit. “If I do this – and that’s a huge if – how will I know you won’t just sell the photos down the line? I don’t want those pictures of Celia and me showing up anywhere. Ever.”

“I’ll give you the negatives. And you’ll have my word.”

Like that’s worth jack shit, I thought.  

“I could call the police. This is blackmail – extortion.”

“Sure, you could. And they might be able to charge me with something. Just like they might be able to charge you and Celia with something. Do you really want to open up that can of worms?”

He could be patronizing because he knew he was right. If I went to the police, every tabloid in L.A. would have the story within a few hours. And then there was the criminal element. Being gay wasn’t illegal in 1967, but the FBI was still carrying out regular witch hunts. Celia and I would be publicly humiliated.

“No.” Even though I hadn’t done it more than a few times, I knew when to admit defeat. There was no clever way to dodge this bullet. I just had to let it hit me. I could tend to the wound later.

“How does Saturday sound?” He pulled a small planner from his back pocket and opened it to a bookmarked page. “Six o’clock?”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

He took a short pencil out of his shirt pocket. “You will. You’ve run out of options. So, does six work for you?” He asked the question as if he was PA setting up a working lunch.

“You could physically hurt me.” My voice was so low that even I could barely hear it. William craned his neck and leaned in closer. He smelled of cellophane and cheap detergent.  

“Have your friend Harry Cameron come. He can wait in the other room while you pose for me.”

For a brief moment, I imagined telling Harry about this conversation. He would probably offer to kill William himself, and even if I talked him out of it, he would never condone something so reckless. No, I had to go alone. I knew how crazy and irresponsible it was. I knew there was a chance he could assault me or worse. But at the time, I saw only one available path, and at the end of that path was William Porter and a camera.

“OK. Saturday. Six o’clock.”

“Here’s my address.” He tore a page from his notebook and slid it across the laminate table. Without even a cursory look, I picked it up, shoved it into my purse, and began sliding out of the booth. “And wear something pretty.” His gaze lingered on my chest. “Or not.”

The restaurant became blurry, and I shut my eyes for just a second, refusing to show any weakness in front of that vile man. I put on my sunglasses and numbly moved, unthinking and unfeeling, until I was back outside. When I finally made it to my car, I leaned my head against the steering wheel and wept and screamed and slammed my fists on the dashboard until the skin turned an angry shade of red. And then I turned the key in the ignition and drove back home.

[earthwormspaghetti]

Ah fuck I think I might be ace.

I’ve never wanted to screw, and in 14 years of living I’ve only had like 4 “crushes”. I defined crush as wanting to live and get old and wrinkly with that person. They were all female. Males weren’t interesting to me. My mother tells me that I’m just not old enough, but given all corporal changes due to hormone development, I should logically feel SOMETHING. But I don’t. I don’t want a girlfriend, maybe a partner to hug and have a cute dinner with, but not someone who I consider a sexual partner. Physical intimacy disgusts me, I only like hugs, and in moderation. I’ve felt like that all my life. I’d prefer to live alone for the rest of my whole life than live a life of misery and repulsion at the other person.

Hell, I think tiddies are cool, but I don’t see them as sexual. They’re like a bird’s plumage, they’re interesting and unique. I don’t want to be sexual towards someone’s mammary gland insulation, that just feels like trying to have a conversation with a mannequin. It’s weird.

Self pleasure isn’t my thing, either. Why jerk off when you can just do something fun? Something thrilling or mysterious, that gives you adrenaline like the endorphins produced by physical pleasure.

I’ve always related to canonically aroace characters. I don’t remember any of their names, but I do remember Mordecai from the Lackadaisy comics and film. He never understood innuendos or implications of sexual stuff, it just didn’t interest him.

I’m going through a lot of things, mainly it being 00:37 in the fucking morning and I woke up at 6:00, but I think I’m possibly… sapphic ace? Romance seems cute, with cuddles and meals and little gifts.

Anyway, I have nobody to talk to and I’m lonely. Typing this out on my phone feels cathartic. I used to say I was bi… I think I just wanted friends and didn’t understand how love worked. Being sexually harassed in school probably played a part in my outright disgust for intimacy, and my “friends” letting the bullying and harassment happen made me crave love. Not love as a piece of meat or a pretty face, but love as appreciation that today, I’m alive and well. That I can see a new day with them.

I feel empty inside. My whole life feels foreign. I feel like all the self hatred and loathing towards a part of me I never understood has turned to understanding. I don’t look forward to my mother’s reaction, when she inevitably finds out via the most unbelievably weird ways, as usual for most important information. She says she loves sex and cannot live without it.. she says life without sex is like death. Checkmate, you dingus, I’ve already almost killed myself twice this week and it sure doesn’t feel scary. I just feel sad and tired.

Oh, Satan I need to go to bed. ):

[gmwsuperfan5467890]

Let’s talk about Boo Bitch

Disclaimer: SPOILERS AHEAD

Some parts were enjoyable but some parts were very cringey to me. After watching it I also felt like the negatives outweighed the positives. So here are the negatives.

1) I didn’t like how they portrayed high school as all all or nothing experience. You could either have a bad or a good experience and you could only have a good experience when you are popular and attend all the parties, which is complete bullshit. The best thing you could do in high school is to spend it with amazing people who love you for who you are and Erika had that from the very beginning. (I’ll come back to this point after I talk about the ending)

2) Erika Vu is the most unlikeable character in her own show for so many reasons.

a) She took her best friend, her ride or die, Gia for granted until the very end. She was horrible to her even after Gia revealed to her that she was the one that actually died and Erika only tried to make it up to her when she lost everything else and when she realized that Gia barely had any time left. Which makes her an asshole. Bonus asshole points for when she literally did not care when Gia told her that she was dead and for only caring about herself.

b) She harassed Devon way too much.

c) She was an asshole to her boyfriend, insulted him numerous times, gaslit him and never listened to him.

3) The way Erika’s transition from good person to asshole was too jarring and we still don’t understand the thought process behind this. Was she having an existential crisis over her death and so she wanted to try to make the most of the time she has left by emulating Riley (who she thinks has it all)? That wouldn’t work because Erika still remained the same after Gia revealed the truth. Maybe she was still in denial after hearing the truth? But that was never shown.

4)Jake was done so dirty. He hopped from one toxic relationship to another because he was scared of being alone and when he finally realized that and broke up with Erika, I was happy because you don’t see that type of character development in a lot of shows, especially not from the popular guy love interest. But then they had to ruin it by making him go to prom with Riley and then get back together with Erika. What??? So all that development in the episode prior didn’t matter.

5) The plot twist and the ending. I love a good plot twist but this one ruined the story in my opinion and if you knew that there was a plot twist that would be the first thing you think of. I thought this story was about Erika coming to terms with her death and making the most of her time left, so of course she was going to have complicated emotions and act out (which she did) but the end result should have been her realizing that this was bullshit and to find peace with who she is and then ascend, that would have been cathartic to watch as Erika’s arc in my opinion represents the typical Tragic Hero arc that is widely used in literature. Instead we get everyone instantly forgiving Erika and Erika partying with her classmates, her former bully and her ex who she treated like shit.

6) Gia and Gavin were done so dirty. Gia was the most selfless character on the show and she was taken for granted and ignored by almost everyone (except Gavin) and her best friend only started caring about her death in the last minute and Gavin lost someone he had a connection with. Honestly, they both got the short end of the stick.

All in all, the show could have been enjoyable but the last 3 episodes ruined it.

[transpanda-1]

Happy Birthday Tsumugi Shirogane here’s an essay on how she made a trans woman realize she was plural

Hi. We’re plural and diagnosed with OSDD 1B.

We probably would have figured it out eventually either way, but Tsumugi Shirogane is the one that jumpstarted our understanding of our identity.

Why is this?

It’s complicated. (Spoilers, obviously)

Ever since we saw through DRV3, we had attached heavily to Tsumugi. Nearly for a full year, something about the girl kept her bonking around in our head.

Until the fateful day where we were walking down the street, stopped, paused, and went “Do I act... like Tsumugi?”

This was in reference to us switching alters, which we struggled to comprehend at the time. But this realization led us down to therapy/looking inwards/identity figuring out, etc.

And it’s all because of one single blue haired girl with pronouns.

Tsumugi is a mishmash of numerous traits that all felt relatable to us specifically at the time, and maybe people can come to understand how these qualities all came together for us:

1st. Her cosplay ability.

Tsumugi’s cosplaying prowess, being able to perfectly mimic any character from DR’s past (via reuse of past sprites in game) is clearly the evolution from Junko’s rapid “personality switching” from the first game.

Junko Enoshima’s personality switching is, well, really another instance of DR’s dramatized and demonized approach to writing systems. But what’s interesting is that while Junko’s is technically more realistic, Tsumugi somehow feels closer to how it “feels” to have different alters in the body.

Junko only had enough budget to have one sprite per “personality type”, meaning what she swapped to was often fairly one note.

Tsumugi, on the other hand, had every sprite from every character from the past games. This makes whatever she swaps to have a more dynamic presence, like it could be a living, breathing person on some level.

Also, most times, alters imagine themselves as visually different from how the host body is. So each character being visually distinct kind of... feels cathartic, almost? (Especially when you consider fictives, alters that form through imagery/personality/story of a fictional character!)

2nd. Her plainness emphasis.

So, something about DID/OSDD is many systems have a sort of “day to day” alter. Some people call them a core alter but we’re unsure about that rn.

To us, our simple alter is Jackeline, a go-with-the-flow girl who doesn’t feel too strongly emotionally about things. In other words... a little plain.

Tsumugi hiding her identity as the mastermind, mixing with her emphasis on “plainness” felt relatable to our situation.

At the time we were still struggling to be fully out on our trans gay identity. This generic front facing image of us hiding so much underneath while we were surrounded by people felt like a similar situation.

It’s a mask, but a mask that can’t be removed. Cause maybe it wasn’t fully a mask at all.

3. She’s the soulless villain.

Weird thing to say, huh? Normally you wouldn’t want an antagonist as plural rep.

But at the time... we felt like we were lying to everyone. We would ‘put on these characters’ but supposedly not really feel emotions, because we would always revert back to a less emotional self.

Heck, we didn’t even think we had real emotions!

And Tsumugi is a character utterly defined by a soul crushing emptiness. She apparently hardly feels anything in the moment to moment, and uses frequent escapism through fiction to feel anything. All this at the expense of others around her.

It’s odd to say, but Tsumugi being such a bad person made it weirdly easier to connect to for someone like us. We had no understanding of our mind at the time, so we just assumed our emotional shifting was somehow purposeful, manipulative in nature.

We obviously wouldn’t want everyone to go through this, but her role weirdly spoke to us. (Maybe it’s because of how often DID/OSDD is portrayed)

4. The game unnecessarily demonizes her.

Tsumugi’s a bad person. There’s no denying that.

But... she isn’t the actual antagonist of drv3, and the game doesn’t seem to realize this?

The end of drv3 reveals this whole fucked up murder game was a live action reality show. With god knows how many people watching.

Now if you’re someone like us, you’ll be aware that the reality tv show situation is heavily controlled by higherups, capitalistic interests, edited and manipulated in post, etc. etc. etc.

This type of genre is inherently designed to keep people watching.

And then the game blames... the audience. Whom Tsumugi is representing as a figurehead, essentially. As in the fans are the reason why this is evil.

This is... somewhat baffling. The game acknowledges that a company is behind designing, funding, broadcasting, hosting, hiring, etc. these things, and making it so that the actors actually die? Yet they’re just glossed over? They... MAKE the content here?

Tsumugi feels like a cog in a greater, blood churning machine. And she’s the standin villain here?

It feels like the game is pushing Tsumugi into the way of the bullet labeled “Maybe the people making this is the reason this sucks” by pretending that the fans somehow are the ones creating the content? (When drv3 actively does false advertise to pretend it has a female protag this is kinda laughable)

THE POINT IS she’s the villain, but she’s so clearly handled incorrectly, or possibly even just a manipulated fangirl getting scapegoated, that it’s easy to start seeing her in a slightly, if not “fuck canon”, sympathetic light.

And... many systems in media also fall under this category. Demonized for uncontrollable aspects before real thought is put in.

If she was hands down no redeeming qualities whatsoever obviously in the wrong in every way it would be harder to relate to her.

But the demonization somehow adds to her interest as a person.

And what kind of people tend to get unnecessarily demonized.

5. Tsumugi’s not straight. Like really not straight. And possibly not cis too.

Man we don’t even know what’s going on with Tsumugi and Kaede in the first chapter. Like what was up with that.

Kaede’s checking Tsumugi out every 10 seconds and Tsumugi’s literally from “Lily Academy”. What is going on in that first chapter??? Did she WANT that? Kaede outright called her hot numerous times and she never objected!

She told Kaede this whole situation is the kind people would fall in love under, and her voiceclip that plays is “Do you wanna try!” That’s so. Much.

And they NEVER elaborate on this? Despite how much Tsumugi plays a role in Kaede’s story it’s like, poof! never happened! What are you talking about audience?

The game seems to afraid to own up to the identity they coded her with?

Not only that but, her voice mannerisms in the english dub make it sound like she’s putting on a high pitched, airy falsetto.

It’s meant to convey she’s putting on a persona, but you know what that sounds like to a trans person? Someone with a lack of proper voice training!

With her cosplaying Tsumugi seems also perfectly comfortable portraying herself as multiple men! However we interpret this she’s gender nonconforming in SOME way?

Speaking of.

6. She shares her VA with Chihiro.

So. Awkward moment. Chihiro Fujisaki is the character that made us realize we’re a trans woman.

We didn’t realize it at the time but that... kind of flipped another switch in us.

Our first real identifiable alter is Cherish, a very effeminate, polite, meek alter. She... used to go by Chihiro. It was natural for Cherish to be sweet and soft spoken, that’s what she felt like. She feels she was wrong for using the name at all now, but that is what happened.

For a time being it felt like it was just Jackeline, our more plain alter, and Cherish, our sweetheart alter.

So kind of like plain Tsumugi... and the other character voiced by Tsumugi’s VA.

And... the thing that cracked our egg... was being pointed out that at one point we wanted to cosplay Chihiro.

So Tsumugi having the exact same VA as Chihiro made us really fascinated with her. Her cosplaing Chihiro so much more. And even moreso headcanon material for any trans headcanon for her.

Tsumugi seeming to have this instinctual desire to want to change into different fictional characters was an experience we had shared. And honestly for a system who has quite a number of fictives... it’s pretty relatable, oddly enough.

7. She’s a huge geek.

Perhaps this is our bias speaking, but experience from trans women and plural communities shows that a lot of them... are kind of huge nerds.

That’s not a bad thing, of course. But tending to care more for animation, being geeky, hyperfixating on things, etc. etc. are kind of qualities that tend to resonate with these groups.

Tsumugi desiring escapism is... yeah, it’s relatable. And for someone in a group that often faces struggles irl, even moreso.

Combining with her connection to multiple aspects of queer identity, she kind of fits in a lot. We can’t say she’s doing any of this healthily, but we at least understood it.

8.

This is actually the most important one.

Tsumugi is canonically defined by her lack of memory loss. She’s the only character where this is explicit.

Followers of us would probably assume that Uendo Toneido was our breaking point on plurality, based on the near 80,000 words we’ve written for them.

They got very, very close, but not close enough. And it’s specifically because of their memory loss.

We almost realized we were like Uendo, but we hesitated. “No, that would be insulting to people with actual DID”.

We didn’t know what OSDD was at the time. No media really talks or discusses this condition genuinely.

Tsumugi was the moment it was impossible to deny anymore.

Her being fully aware and coherent as she swaps between characters and even her own personal personas was the breaking point for us.

In a bizarre sense, she’s like the person who opens the pickle jar after getting loosened up by another beforehand.

But… she’s still the one that broke the dam.

Final word:

Tsumugi Shirogane is... odd. She’s an odd character that possibly singlehandedly exploded the budget of DRV3 by making them rehire all the past VA’s.

She’s a character that’s ultimately an enigma, and probably will never be fully explained. Honestly because we don’t think the creators fully got her either.

But this demented, supposedly evil girl made one trans woman understand her plural identity.

In one way she made one person’s life, or lives, a lot better in the long run.

Sometimes we still look at Tsumugi and see a lot of ourselves. In some way, it can kind of show the power of fictional characters. There will always be one person on Earth that relates to a character more than anyone else.

Thank you for existing Tsumugi, despite everything.