#it makes me feel things nonetheless that there exist so many similarities

[extraordinarilyextreme]

MLCB Concert: XSY's Farewell

In truth, I really don’t like this part, because it also represents that we are bidding our characters farewell for good.

In the morning, when I was getting my makeup done - in an instant, I returned to that summer. I felt that, to be together with good friends, and then having experienced as sweltering a summer as that…

Such an ardently hot-blooded jianghu was presented to everyone; to stand here today-- Because… Because, during the time of Mysterious Lotus Casebook’s initial broadcast, everyone and all the lianluorens must also be thanked. I know there must have been a lot of difficulties when it was first broadcasted, right? To have reached this step today, I think is already very good. I think it is a result of every person’s hard work.

Just now, when we were off-stage, Yan-laoshi said something I really like; in an instant, I lost my composure. I don’t think fate is something that will come with enough waiting, or something that can be insisted on having. It’s when there comes a day where we stand together and work hard to strive toward a common goal. The sentiments of that moment, I feel, last forever.

I hope, however many years later, everyone is still together - that lianluorens can still be together. Thank you, everyone. This summer, thank you to every person. Thank you to all my good companions; thank you, every single person.

Di Feisheng! Until we meet again!

【莲花楼演唱会】 Mysterious Lotus Casebook Concert - 20230916

江湖路远   山高水长  祝 「繁华」 似锦！ The roads of the jianghu stretch far; the mountains are lofty, and the rivers are long. I wish your future to be as splendid as an embroidered tapestry! 「追光」 而行  不负初心  愿 永生难忘！ Chase the light as you journey; live up to the original intentions of your heart. I hope this will be unforgettable for your lifetime!

Any mistakes are my own.

[hanamukes]

To feel saved by your words (Taki and Uika)

While I believe you could compile endless comparisons between any two members of MyGO and Ave Mujica, something that's been on my mind a lot recently are the similarities found between Taki and Uika. Tomori and Sakiko are the ones who pull the story along, but I think Taki and Uika both hold a similar position within the contexts of their relationships with them that warrants a closer look.

This isn't a "complete" and cohesive analysis, so much as a collection of observations I've made as I've been combing through Uika's scenes again lately.

Small disclaimer, but given that Uika as we know her exists in approximately 10 minutes of It's MyGO footage, a lot of this will be my own interpretation of her few existing scenes. Your mileage may vary! I analyze Uika a bit more than Taki here, but this is simply because I honestly feel as if Taki's writing is more blunt and explicit―to "analyze" her almost feels more like a summary of the events and dialogue, whereas with Uika, all we can do is piece together the small crumbs that we have.

To start, I want to talk a little bit about their positions in their respective bands. In ways, they feel similar, but in many more ways, they feel completely different.

Uika is not the "leader" of Ave Mujica in any sense of the word. Sakiko is―Uika is figuratively and literally a puppet Sakiko is playing with. However, she is the "protagonist" of Ave Mujica's stage plays. This is an important distinction to make because while Uika is not the one pulling the strings as we've seen proven in the anime, it's not entirely unfounded for anyone to claim that she may have a special position within the context of the band (even ignoring the fact that vocalists tend to be the "face" of the band which many misconstrue to mean they are the leader).

Taki is an interesting case because she's not the front and center of her band, nor does she have "protagonist" traits, nor does she have something that draws people to her―but nonetheless, through her hard work alone, she has become the primary force that keeps MyGO held together (even if it, at times, feels like duct tape).

I like this distinction between them. Uika gets her special little place just by being popular and having had past connections with Sakiko, while Taki affirms hers by working harder than any one person would have to in order to keep a band together. One of them gets what they want with sheer luck alone, while the other must cling to this band as if it's the last thing she'll ever get the grace of doing.

Though, just what do Tomori and Sakiko mean to Taki and Uika?

Tomori's words save Taki and let her breathe, while if we're to interpret the Ave Mujica doll lore shown in their concerts as applying to their actresses, Doloris repeatedly talks about having a special somebody who accepts her for who she really is deep down, and how she wants to stay alone with them for an eternity―perhaps this is a hint as to how Uika views Sakiko (which has some support in the anime, as I think Sakiko's message to Uika has more to it than meets the eye).

I think there's something to be said about how Taki and Uika seem unhappy with their circumstances (Taki lives her life compared to her sister, while one of Uika's only solo scenes being her dropping the happy idol facade is telling to me), but it's Tomori and Sakiko's words that save them. For Taki, this is Tomori's songs (specifically Haruhikage), for Uika, this takes form in rereading Sakiko's consoling message from her idol debut over and over.

Notably with Taki, this is the happiest we ever see her! Tomori and Sakiko's words save them, and it's absolutely written all over their faces. It's not subtle at all.

Also, how we're (formally) introduced to both characters is in the context of their respective separation with Tomori and Sakiko: Taki is yelling at Anon for scaring Tomori away (after she finally found her again) while this text message scene is Uika's.

Now, separation is of course a huge theme with these bands in general, so what makes their examples special?

Where I think they differ from the others is in the way they approach these separations. Here's the thing: in a way, Taki feels as if her life purpose hinges on being around Tomori, but despite this, she never tracked her down in her absence. Uika always pulls out Sakiko's comforting message to her, so much to the point that she can recite it word for word on the fly, and yet despite having her phone number, she never messaged her. We can see the last message sent between Uika and Sakiko was that conversation from a year ago, and this has to be deliberate.

She probably wants nothing more than to see Sakiko again (when Sakiko calls her in episode 7, she literally blushes and shifts her hair in excitement about it, and I will also mention the director implied the reason she goes to the planetarium is because it reminds her of the stargazing she did on the island with Sakiko), and yet she respects Sakiko to be the one to take that step in contacting her first.

This is also something prevalent with Taki: Soyo exists as proof that if she really wanted to, she could have stalked or harassed Tomori into getting her back in her life, but instead she was patient. She valued Tomori needing space. She put Tomori's feelings above and before her own.

There's just this level of yearning behind their words and actions―of wanting someone in your life so badly, of thinking about them every single day, of looking back at all of your memories together and hoping and praying for the day they will reach out to you once more but not taking that first step yourself out of modesty for your own feelings―that I think separates them from the others. (Ironically, the closest that comes to this is actually Tomori herself but in regards to Sakiko.)

Another big theme they share is that they're rather open with their affection for Tomori/Sakiko, but the way they convey those feelings isn't always interpreted the way they intended for it to be.

(One could perhaps interpret Sakiko's reaction here as embarrassment, and I do think this is a part of it, but given this is the one interaction she's had this series that isn't someone trying to dox her or begging her to be with them, I think she'd be well within her rights to be confused at why Uika's also so obsessively fixated on her.)

Taki falls more under the "awkward" umbrella than Uika (so I'm not about to insinuate I think this will be as common with Uika and Sakiko going forward as it has been for Taki and Tomori), but they both share this trait of "I want to express how much you mean to me" and it being met with confusion.

The way they respond to said rejection is similar as well.

(This anime is very good at expression via a character's eyes alone, and I think this is conveyed really well with both Taki and Uika.)

And of course, because their intent was never to hurt and rather was the opposite (to cherish), they're not afraid to apologize, no matter how "insignificant" their offense may have been.

(The framing on these shots fascinates me, as if the camera needs to zoom out to capture the recipient of the apology in the frame in order for it to land.)

Everything is with Tomori/Sakiko's best interest in mind, but sometimes, just your thoughts and feelings isn't enough. You need to convey those feelings appropriately to the person you're saying them to, and Tomori/Sakiko are of course not the world's easiest people to get through to.

I think on the surface, Uika is presented to us as a character who Taki could aspire to be like. She's calm, collected, and she's able to get through to Tomori as a fellow vocalist. What was that planetarium scene for if not to point out that Uika could present herself as a threat to Taki? But on the other hand, we've seen Sakiko shut Uika down twice already; it's not like her one moment with Tomori makes her better than Taki at communicating with the one she cherishes most, even if she seems more sociable. Tomori is even a bit weirded out that Uika called her by name despite her never telling it to her. When you get down to it and look past their exteriors, they have the same struggles at hand.

Speaking of Sakiko's rejection of Uika, this brings me to what I believe is the most striking parallel between their scenes.

The last episode is fascinating because one of the two examples of Sakiko shutting down Uika is when Uika asks if she can go home with her on the train. We know this is something Taki does with Tomori as well, but that's not what I want to point out here (though that's also noteworthy in its own way):

Earlier in that same episode, Taki was also rejected when she wanted to walk Tomori home! The reasons of course differ (Soyo wanted to talk with Tomori so it's not as if Tomori herself rejected Taki, while I get the impression that at this point Uika still doesn't know of Sakiko's home situation which seems to be the real reason Sakiko said no fun side note though: a Sumimi commercial is very much on screen in the following frame of Sakiko on the train), but the framing of both scenes is very similar, and I honestly find this hard to ignore. The Taki one of course makes sense as it's a well-established thing between her and Tomori to ride the train home together, but Uika had no reason to ask to go home with Sakiko on the train. She got to the venue in a cab just fine! It feels very deliberate to me to have both of these happen in the same episode and to also put narrative weight on both moments as well. When I saw the Taki scene, I thought "Huh, so we're just not getting Taki closure?" and while the Uika scene was too late in the episode for me to really expect an actual scene even had Sakiko said yes, they're similar in that both of these scenes work to set up future developments in the sequel. We're still owed the closure Soyo pulling Tomori away from Taki robbed us from, and we're owed seeing Uika learn about Sakiko's home life.

Something else that I think about often is how Taki and Uika are involved in the songwriting process for their respective bands:

Taki and Sakiko are composers while Tomori and Uika are lyricists

Sakiko and Uika both read Tomori's poetry/ventings in her notebook and attribute it to being lyrical. (Taki does as well but this isn't a discovery she makes through having a one-to-one with Tomori)

Sakiko and Taki both feel inspired by Tomori's writing and do whatever they can to make compositions fitting for her words

While we don't know much about the Ave Mujica songwriting process as of yet, one of the interviews confirms that Uika does the lyrics for Ave Mujica songs. This leaves a lot to be considered regarding 1. why Sakiko wanted her for her band 2. what Sakiko would see in her writing and if it's comparable to how she feels reading Tomori's writing (as a note here: Tomori's writing makes her human, while Uika's writing turns her into a monster), and 3. Uika writes to other people's ideas, but she still feels as though singing is something that conveys her heart to others

Those are some general observations I have regarding this. To both Taki and Uika, they want to see out Tomori/Sakiko's musical ambitions, and they pour their heart into what they do. Of course all the band members are doing this (by playing their respective instruments, and Raana does contribute to MyGO songs in her own ways), but these two go above and beyond in their motivations.

As a much more subtle thing, I want to point out something interesting It's MyGO did: the various Sumimi shills throughout the series that happen during major scenes where characters are trying to communicate how they want to reconcile moving forward. Honestly this is a topic so fascinating I'd love to make its own post dedicated to it, but I want to talk about it here briefly as well because it does relate to Taki. Notably, I want to talk about the example of this in episode 5, because the framing of it felt the most deliberate there.

To set the scene, Tomori just expressed that she doesn't want to hold a concert because that'll end their band, which leaves Taki and Soyo hanging as they're unsure how to move forward from there if Tomori doesn't want to. The scene changes to Taki and Soyo, with Taki overlooking Sumimi's music video.

(The way the shots are composed makes it seem like Taki is staring at the music video, complete with the light of the scenes reflecting on her face, but when we get this zoomed out shot with Soyo in frame, it looks more like she's looking off to the side.)

As Soyo's talking about how unsure Tomori feels and how she's still thinking about CRYCHIC, Here the World is playing in the background. We can hear it pretty clearly; even more clearly than we heard it in the literal karaoke scene! The song continues until it fades out at this line:

The sudden silence almost feels deafening. Taki starts talking about how Tomori's words saved her, and how they made her feel seen. The MV is still playing in the background, we just can't see or hear it. But it comes back on screen to be a backdrop to these lines:

(Interesting how they chose this specific angle that captures the Sumimi MV in the backdrop, when they could have done a different one or turned the video off entirely since the song isn't even playing anymore. Also for the last line, Uika and Mana's silhouettes are no longer on the screen.)

What is the purpose of this? Is it to foreshadow that Sakiko would invite Uika to her band a few episodes later? Do Taki's words apply to Uika as well?

Soyo then continues on and says in order to avoid having things go south again, they need to communicate with one another. Then she says Taki needs to tell Tomori how she feels.

I think the most compelling shot in this scene is this one though.

Because 2 episodes later, this exact shot in the MV is what Sakiko scrunches her face at post-Haruhikage.

(Well, even if Taki's feelings didn't get through to Tomori, Uika did finally get through to Sakiko given she calls her immediately after this. Interesting.)

Taki is trying to express how much Tomori means to her and Sakiko is trying to get over MyGO playing Haruhikage, and there's Uika; happy, smiling, sparkling, and getting everything handed to her. It almost feels as if the MV is there to mock these characters, who are struggling so much to even keep a band together. She's an outsider who doesn't even know that Crychic has disbanded.

It's just one of those things that feels so meaningless, and yet at the same time, the Sumimi MV would not be playing during these scenes unless the writers wanted it to, for whatever reason that may be.

To wrap this post up, I want to mention that I find it very amusing how the director mentioned that Uika was actually not originally intended to be shown in a school setting (like Nyamu is), but when they were thinking about what school to put her in, they put her in the same classroom as Taki because of potential interactions between them. I am very eager to see those interactions in future content, and how Taki will react once she realizes that Uika (and Umiri) are in a band with Sakiko. It'll be interesting to see whether or not these two become proper foils to each other, as I see a lot of potential here given both of their respective relationships with our protagonists. Going back to what I said about Uika being presented to us as something Taki could aspire to be like, I actually hope it turns out to be the opposite: I hope that Taki sees Uika's relationship with Sakiko and learns what not to do with Tomori. This may just me being hopeful though (as in the Ave Mujica concerts, Oblivionis takes advantage of Doloris' dedication to her and turns her into a monster―I want to see something akin to this happen with Sakiko and Uika). We'll truly just have to see!

[asterdisaster06]

i love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader

1. 2. 3.

summary > "Don't trust people like me. I will hurt you in the most beautiful and intoxicating ways so that you can never go back to your normal life without my ghost following you."

...

"If you always put yourself before others, one day you'll look behind and see that you're all alone."

...

Simon "Ghost" Riley had fucked up. Massively. He had pushed you away because he was scared of losing you to the life he lived. He didn't want to see you go down the same path and lose that beautiful intoxicating spark that you always carried in your eye. And now he didn't even recognize you. Not after you had done so much work to fulfill yourself, changing the person he once knew. You had successfully climbed the ranks of the 141 Taskforce and was now crowned the second lieutenant of the team. However, you can't dodge the piercing looks that Simon sends you every now and then. You can't pretend forever.

warnings > simon riley is alluded to be a bit of a dick in this chapter

a/n > reader cenetred. author has family issues so will be found family-ing this shit. author has no military knowledge so don’t crucify me. also have no idea how long it takes to officially become a Lieutenant but we’re going with around 5 years - shortened from 7+ because us readers are smart and can go to college. it’s very much just poetic feels, but I promise the angst with Simon directly comes eventually. He’s kind of a dick tbh but that’s cause he’s emotionally repressed. i’m romanticising this because i’ve lived through similar and wish this was how it ended lmao

ao3

Simon Riley was the bane of your existence. His very being pissed you off to no end, and it wasn’t unwarranted. That anger had once been crippling sorrow and grief over what you had lost. The anger had begun as a small seed, planted in the harsh words he growled at you through gritted teeth that night. The same words that you hissed back in his face. But eventually you had managed to move on from the love of your life. Managed to move on after weeks spent with tear stained pillows and the stuffed animal he had won you once hugged to your chest. You would’ve shoved that thing in the back of your closet, but you figured you shouldn’t take your anger out on the poor thing. 

Thinking of him still makes you wince like hitting your shin against a table leg, but less so. It’s faded to a simple bruise on your heart that still aches from time to time. A phantom pain for the ghost that still haunts you. Like smoke in the wind. You still fear whispering his name at night as if his spirit will come back to haunt you. You still have the keys to his apartment in your bedside drawer. You still remember where he keeps his spoons. Sometimes you wonder how many cups of tea you’ve wasted from pouring them down the drain after realising you’re still stuck in the habit of making two. 

However, you know it’s for the best that you’ve parted ways. It reminds you a little of a moment in your life with him, ironically. There was this one time that you had managed to drag Simon to the beach as a small celebration for him and were out swimming as the sun had set. He only stuck his toes into the water as you swam out until you couldn’t reach the bottom. He had told you he wouldn’t save you, and you shouted back in response that you didn’t need saving. You almost want to thank him now for saying that he’d let you drown. Thank him for teaching you that you never needed saving. Not from him anyways.

It was this exact night that had led to the complete and utter dismantling of your relationship with one Simon Riley. Recalling it stings like sand in the wind against your bare legs. The kind of pelting pain that leaves no visible marks but hurts nonetheless. It steals the breath from your lungs and puts a stone in your heart. 

You were so happy, so very happy. And you thought that Simon would be too. Especially for you. You broke the news to him as you were laying there on the beach that you wanted to join the military. You wanted to continue that it was because you had looked up to him so very much and wanted to do good just like he did. Even if he didn’t exactly believe he was. Before you could do so though, he had blown up on you. Completely. It was a complete shift from the Simon you thought you had known. You shudder to recall exactly what he had said, but it escalated enough for one of you to call it off. 

It had gone silent after those words were uttered. 

Complete silence.

You had refused to let the tears fall until you had grabbed your shit and booked a flight back to your home town. The airport bathroom had offered a greater sympathy than he had ever given you. He never even called you. You think that’s what hurts the most. That you didn’t mean enough to him to even try and work this out. You expected better from him. You truly did. 

“I can’t fucking believe how bloody stupid you would have to be to do that.”

Nonetheless, you picked yourself up and signed up for the military with your family and friends supporting your every move. Your every breath. You learned to defend yourself, learned to love yourself. You had gotten around here and there, but nobody ever truly measured up to Simon. Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you two had met when you were already in the military, but you always shut down those what if thoughts quite quickly. No use dwelling on something that could never be.

“This is a big fucking mistake, love.”

You rose the ranks quickly, using your spite to your advantage. Every man that reminded you of Simon always made you fight even harder. You had always told a half truth when someone asked why you wanted to join. Not the story of pain and bitterness, but the one of hope and admiration of an old friend. It made you want to throw up after the third time of giving that response, so eventually you simply changed the subject when someone asked. You didn’t even spill your past when you were blackout drunk; it being too painful even then. You drowned your sorrows in liquor and nicotine, going out with your top tier squad every Friday. Sometimes when it came to a close and you were left with the quiet of your own deafening thoughts you went outside to smoke a pack of Simon’s favourite cigarettes. A weakness that you hated yourself for. 

"You are no saint, and you are no saviour either. You're just lying to yourself."

Those words ring out in your mind every time you fail to save someone. A fellow soldier or a civilian, it doesn’t matter. Self doubt creeps up on you, smothering you in its grasp. Your hands remain stained with their blood, no matter how much you scrub your skin raw in the shower. You hear their screams ring out in your brain at night, piercing the thin veil of fitful sleep that you’ve resigned yourself to after you had lost the warmth of your other half that used to hold you tight at night. Your eyes had lost their brightness, though you can’t say it’s exactly correlated to the loss of the victims. You couldn’t prove Simon right in that aspect. Not after you’ve come this far. 

"Anything would be better than this!"

You wanted to believe that so badly, but your heart longed for this career almost as much as it did him. You took pride in those you had saved; albeit still haunted by those you could not. The abilities you had earned your right to were presented proudly through tactical patches displayed on your uniform - chest candy as he would’ve called it. But if he couldn’t support you through this, you didn’t know how to trust him for future endeavours. The lack of apologies simply cemented your decision and mindset. 

"Why would somebody do this on purpose?"

It’s a question whose full answer still eludes you to this day. All you know is that you felt homesick for this life before even experiencing it. It’s the ache in your bones and has been carved into your ribs so you may feel the torment and euphoria all at once when your heart slams against the cage that keeps it safe. Contained. 

It’s these thoughts that occupy your mind on the plane trip to the infamous compound that houses the 141 Taskforce. Anxiety pierces your nerves, sending what little food you had that morning tumbling around your stomach. Forgetting your meds this morning was likely the worst thing that you could have possibly done. Except for completely ghosting this experience. How odd it is to be haunted by someone still alive. Someone who has no idea if you’re still breathing, let alone travelling to your very location at that moment. 

There was no logical reason for you to turn this collaboration down; in fact, in any other circumstances you would be proud of rising so far that you were sent to this facility. Except for the fact that it was this facility. The very one that your ex who has tormented you through night a day for years. You hadn’t spoken a word of his name to anyone after the first month following the breakup. You wanted a life where your friends didn’t even know his name, let alone his significance. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be a part of your life anymore. 

You repeat this mantra to yourself as you realise you’re finally landing. 

Shit.

That syllable is the only thing bouncing around your head as you’re greeted by John Price. The John Price. Alone, you notice. You had heard bits and pieces of Ghost’s team, but mostly of either Soap’s shenanigans or Price’s rulings over him. You swallow harshly and shake the hand of the powerful Captain. The very same one that had no idea that one of his subordinate’s had been your previous lover. And you planned to keep it that way at all costs. 

“Welcome to the base Lieutenant, I’ve heard great things about you and your stealth skills on the battlefield,” Price spoke, shaking your hand firmly. 

Lieutenant. You had always loved the sound of that word in front of Simon’s name, and had similarly always wondered how it would sound in front of yours. It brought a sense of satisfaction rushing through your veins, and yet at the same time it brought you to your knees from nausea. It reminded you too much of him.

“There was the callsign ‘Angel’ in the details Laswell sent over. Would you say that still suits you?” Price says, almost amused. 

Angel. You had never intended for it to be ever spoken to you again considering its connotations with a nickname Simon had always called you. His little angel. He claimed that you were sent down from the heavens to save the sinners; although, you had never considered him one until the breakup. 

How you had gained this callsign is a story that makes you want to shake like a wet dog. Shake the memory off until it vanishes from your grasp. When you were simply doing your job and slowly climbing the ranks through your initial trade training, you had this sergeant that had taken a liking to you. Much to your chagrin. He had started every conversation with the classic pickup line about you falling from heaven. It was pure torment that you had to endure for almost a full year; a year in which the nickname stuck. Nobody was willing to do anything about it, and you weren’t willing to cause a fuss by tattling on your - at the time - superior. It ended up following you out of that academy into your career. 

Although, you had quickly earned the added benefit of having ‘Angel of Death’ be your full callsign after you had proven your covert operation skills - effectively wiping out an entire compound by yourself with none the wiser. Safe to say that mission was a success. The name now had something to do with your actual skills instead of your physical appearance and led you to cringe at the honorific less and less. 

“I don’t think I’d be able to answer to anything else, Sir,” You answer, wincing at the mention of your callsign nonetheless.

He sends you a questioning look at your small recoil, but brushes it off in favour of moving onto a general tour of the area. It was a sizable facility with many accommodations that made you almost smile with anticipation of taking advantage of all of them. I mean, you even got your own personal shower with your room. Who is going to complain about that?

“So, that’s basically it,” Price finishes up the tour in his office. “I know you already signed off with Laswell on your contract, but just for the record, may I have you sign a few documents here in this folder? Feel free to take your time going through them.”

You overlooked the folder, noticing what little details you had shared throughout your career being asked to be confirmed by your penmanship. It makes you give a shallow smile at the memories you’ve contracted through your experiences. Some less than savoury, but many you wouldn’t give up for the world. You were looking forward to catching up with your friends back at your old base once you were settled in, but until then you scratched pen against paper. 

You had finally completed signing on all the lines, getting a little tired at being told ‘here, here, and here’ over and over again. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, not quite realising how much your anxiety had taken out of you. Your hands had a small leftover tremor plaguing them as you handed the pen back to Price, but you felt better. Significantly better. 

“I can tell you’re tired, so I’ll lead you to your quarters and let you rest there for tonight,” Price says, sending you a small quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Captain,” You reply, sending a tired yet appreciative look in his direction. 

“Oh, please, call me Price. If you know Kate as well as she says you do, you’ve earned that at the least,” He laughs. 

You flush red, letting out a bashful grin at that. It was true that you had run into Kate a few times before realising what a big part she played in your field of work. Most of the time at the coffee shop where you held a part-time job while attending the military academy. However, the time you had sat across from her and her wife after getting stood up really sealed the deal. You being introduced as the ‘person that actually gets our coffee right’ which gave you all a good laugh. They had comforted you once you opened up about why you were at a fancy dinner alone, they welcomed you into their open arms, and that was that. The topic ended up on what you were studying for, and it all came out into the open. The silent conversation those two had with their eyes before opening up had almost made you shit yourself before Kate explained. 

You had tried to stay slightly distant after figuring out exactly what she did for a living, but she had shut that down real quick - saying that if anyone had dared to call you a nepo-baby that they wouldn’t live to tell the tale. You really hoped she was exaggerating. 

Back in the present, you were letting out a laugh at Price’s words before there was a knock at the door. Your heart dropped to your stomach, making your breath stumble before completely halting. In your heart, you knew who it was before Price even told him to let himself in. The gruff voice saying he didn’t expect Price to have company so late made you feel like a deer in headlights, unable to move as their untimely demise stares them right in the face. 

Except this time around, this deer had broken through the freeze reaction long ago. You had learned and adapted, unwilling to relive being frozen as Simon yelled in your face yet again. You couldn’t face the shame quite yet, not unprompted at least.  

You quickly turned away from your initial reaction of turning to the door. You mouth goodbye to Price and nod in respect; hoping that he would forgive you for abandoning his office without any notice. You kept your eyes to the floor, feeling his eyes staring holes through you, burning your skin like a bullet wound. 

You had changed a lot throughout the years, more so in preparation for being moved here. You weren’t going to turn down this once in a lifetime opportunity just because of a silly disagreement over half a decade ago. You remember staring at a face you barely recognize today while gripping the porcelain off white sink in your shared bathroom. Past you taking actions to change your hair into something that ended up being the new normal. You had taken a page out of Ghost’s book and invested in DIY-ing a personalised mask that resembled a bird with tinted glass shielding your eyes from anyone that could recognize you simply off that. You actually had quite a few - each one for a different occasion. 

Nonetheless, the mask you currently wore, its only purpose that you cared about right now was hiding your identity. Simon didn’t immediately react, so you took that as a good sign. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was simply concealing his emotions, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. You peruse the halls, not entirely sure how to get to your room. You had a vague idea, but backtracking made it a little more difficult. Especially since you were more concerned with conversing with Price than memorising the exact layout. 

You take a turn around a corner, immediately bumping into someone with a familiar face, your eyes betraying your displeasure as you wordlessly stared into the Scots eyes.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hey, may i request hcs of laughing jack + slenderman x nonbinary, afab!reader who gets misgendered/bullied a lot but is too scared to correct/stand up to ppl? happens to me a lot :[

laughing jack and slenderman x afab!nonbinary!reader

im so so sorry you keep getting treated like dookie- as a fellow afab nb i totally get your pain with the misgendering, people just need to hush up

notes: reader is afab and nonbinary, established relationships, both canon characters have limited knowledge of lgbt topics but thats mostly because they hardly interact with people or media

cws: transphobia, canon typical violence, mentions of stalking

laughing jack

doesnt get to interact with many people much, so hes a little limited on his knowledge- and given that he originally started existing in the Victorian era? hoo boy- hes not transphobic or otherwise lgbtphobic but there is some ignorance

can see himself as using some labels once he gets more educated on it, though! always headcanoned laughing jack to be gnc!

tries to help you appear more androgynous or masculine if thats what you want! he doesnt mind playing dress up with you, and hes definitely going to take it as a moment to turn it into a game and try to cheer you up!

openly mocks the people who bully you, as well as outright saying that theyre just a bunch of jerks who... dont deserve nice things to head their way.. to keep the description vague

similar to slenderman, hes going to go out and get some vengeance if things get ugly enough

he doesnt like going out without you, hes a bit clingy.. but the sight of you being so distraught really makes his insides coil like snakes.. does not like it at all

even tries to push for you to carry him around in his box so he can just jump and slash anyone who says anything- though thats not a very good idea... would give him away quickly

slenderman

he doesnt understand much about gender, and honestly? i can easily see him being agender, or maybe gender apathetic simply due to him not showing interest in his own identity. he rarely wants to be perceived anyway

despite not knowing much about it and not caring how others see him, he can understand just a little bit on why it matters to you- especially when youre seen as something youre not and harassed for it

rest assured that if he ever finds out someone is harassing you, he will silent them quickly. out right offing them or stalking them over a period of time, the result will end in you having one less person on your back... then two.. then three.. and so on

actually the fact that people seem to either go missing or skip town not long after messing with you makes many keep their mouths shut- and before you even think that might prompt someone to harm you under the guise that its YOU doing it, slenderman isnt going to let that happen

he listens to you if you need to talk about your feelings on it, hes unsure of how to verbally help you affirm your gender identity but if you outright ask him how he views you; he tells you that you pass in his eyes regardless of if you present more femininely, masculine, or androgynously.. though that may be because of his aforementioned limited knowledge on the topic... hes supportive nonetheless!

[reasonsforhope]

Thank you, stranger, for making this blog. You are truly a kind, beautiful soul. Thank you for existing for the world. Many of us appreciate you!!!! Thank you!!!!! /vvvvvvvgen

...now to me. I'm sorry for adding for your huge askbox as is, genuinely...

I naturally, without thinking, don't act like my real personality because it's been shunned dozens of times across my entire life. It's not fundamentally flawed (I know that, 100%--we all have flaws, ad I absolutely wasn't a terrible person for expressing them). Nonetheless, all I know is that the person I act like everyday of my life since I finally snapped and started doing this whole thing two years ago -- almost three -- is not who I really am. You know when you put on a shoe that, while your foot can fit inside and you can walk around just fine, you know it's just not your size because it doesn't feel right at all? That's me and my "personality"...people thought I was weird when I showed my genuine personality. I was just...pretty different than most. some comments I've got on my old personality:

"You're ...... Weird." (said with a thinly hid derogatory tone)

"Stop. You're not one of us."

"Why are you talking like that?"

"Sensitive. No one likes you."

And the one that finally made me snap:

"Stupid." (the person who said this then continued top he conversation as normal. Not acknowledging my stunned reaction.)

In addition, for a couple months I got treated like a dog. A literal dog.

I basically got treated like an outcast.

I know the personality I've left buried for so long has grown on its own, with me. It wasn't totally neglected and in fact is still here. It's just hidden behind this mask...which I can't take off. Because I literally don't know how. It's become such a habit to be someone else that I don't even fully, consciously know who I genuinely am today...it's hard. I hurt. A lot. I'm terrified of being vulnerable in any way, now. Just curled up in a shell.

...what am I to do? Where am I even going to begin? I feel lost. All I know, in the depths of my heart, that there is hope. There is always hope yet. That is something I've always known.

So what now? I'm scared, tired, and unsure. Is there anything I can do, anymore, at all? To figure out, and then be, who I know I am, deep down?

Thank you for reading, if you did. From the bottom of my heart--thank you. Thank you.

Sincerely,

#🎈🌠🐘

<3 <3 <3

Thanks so much <3 And fwiw for anyone wondering, it's not HUGE huge, I've got like 45 asks and dms to get to, but it still feels pretty big for me, a person who has def never had that happen before. Hoping to try to answer a batch of 2-4 of them on the weekends

Also, in terms of the rest of it.... Sorry if I'm overstepping, and definitely not to do that "diagnose people over the internet shit," but have you ever looked into whether you might be autistic or some other flavor of neurodivergent. Because as an autistic person, I see a Lot of my own experiences in what you've written

Regardless of whether you have or not, and whether you're autistic or not, I definitely know what it's like to deal with that kind of shit and bullying, and how trying to mask your own differences can twist you up inside. I had a problem with compulsively lying for a while in high school because of how ingrained "covering for myself" became - so I get how unsettling it feels when this shit becomes something you can't consciously control

Because there's so much overlap, I'd actually recommend looking into books and resources from the autistic community in masking and the difficulty of unmasking, regardless of whether you're autistic or not. A lot of the traumas are similar, too, so if you're at that level of "burying," I really think you'll be able to get something out of it no matter what

(This applies to anyone reading this who has also had to deal with that kind of shit or has found themselves doing something similar.)

Also, you should definitely look into trauma work (and "complex PTSD") and see if there's anything helpful to you there--there's a lot of really effective, evidence-based stuff out there about how to untangle your nervous system, because that kind of social rejection and isolation is absolutely/inherently traumatizing

Some Resources

Masking stuff:

Seven Steps to Unmasking as a Neurodivergent Person

What Is Complex PTSD (C-PTSD)? from Healthline

Autism Masking: To Blend or Not to Blend from Healthline

This is an assessment for social masking. It's written about autism, but I think a good amount of it would be applied to other types of masking like this.

Trauma stuff:

What Is Rejection Trauma? from TherapyMantra

Healing from Rejection Trauma from CPTSDFoundation.org

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk

What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma by Stephanie Foo

And if none of that helps you...there's definitely a lot of other stuff out there. There's things like journaling, which are a huge help with this sort of thing. Figuring out who you are underneath it all takes time and feels super weird and it's not easy, but I have faith you can do it. Don't give up, just keep moving forward

[spearxwind]

Hiya, I’d like to put some thoughts out there on my blog (my house) bc I need to yarf some intense feelings or I fear I will explode on a nuclear scale. This is about hollowridge (not in a negative light!! just explaining + reminiscing of old stuff and talking about new stuff. Pouring my heart out more than a little bit.)

I will put them under a readmore of course, this is PRETTY long winded, so you can read or ignore at your leisure -w- 

I was in my adri tag a while ago looking for some images and ended up going through the whole thing and seeing the evolution of him as a character and HR as a story. Additionally, I recently organized my external memory where all my art files are stored and also saw my old stuff, old concepts, old documents with info and ideas, etc etc and like other times where I have looked through my old stuff I have been WRACKED with so many emotions about it. It’s always a dangerous game to go back into my folders/tags to look because I always end up feeling this whooole spiel all at once and very intensely.

Seeing my content shifts is jarring. Very much so. It always is. I don’t think I can pinpoint causes, some of my better creative highs were at really low points in my life, and then other times my creativity and worlds were subsequently really hardly hit during similar lows. I like to think that I am on the up now though, both mentally and creatively. I’m getting back into a lot of things I love, and I am surrounded by people who I love dearly and who love me back, and things in general are really good! I feel less… I wouldn't say wrathful, but way less frustrated when looking back at my old stuff and more inspired to go back to these concepts with a healthier more open mind + knowing that I have improved nonetheless. 

Specifically for hollowridge. Hollowridge feels like a home to me, simple as that. It's something immensely dear to me and I think this is clear by how much effort I have put into it over time, not all of it well placed or with good results, but effort to make it the best that it could be (at best) and effort to keep it afloat (at worst). HR is a strange thing to look back on because it has gone through so many iterations that its hard to pinpoint just one when looking back, but there's a specific time slot (2017-2018 roughly… I’m not gonna check) that I believe is where it was at its best, and that is specifically the vibe that I am trying really hard to go back to with the newest iteration.

I’ve always struggled with it a lot, I've often voiced this publicly, or to friends who would hear my woes out (god bless them for hearing me go on and on about this like a bass boosted and emotional broken record), often because there was so many possibilities that I could run with and I had a lot of really, really conflicting ideas that I wanted to explore. I also had a lot of trouble with lore in general because for many years I was haunted by the absurd need to “make things make sense”, whatever that means. Having things grounded so that people wouldn't be able to poke holes into the watertight plot.. which I never achieved of course. It was less watertight and more of a welded together pringle shaped monstrosity (This was not only true for hollowridge, but was true for everything I have ever made. like in general. It’s been a consistent creative problem for me). 

Eventually what happened iteration after iteration was that I throttled myself too much with rules, random limitations, all in favor of making something cohesive and deleting all the fun bits off the project in the process.

For this reason I also can’t just up and go “yeah i'm gonna turboscrap everything and go back to what worked in 2017” because it also DIDN’T work then. But that vibe specifically is what I am aiming for. The “classic” vibe, if you will (if that means anything to you as it does to me.)

What didn't work for me back in the day was giving everything a reason for existing, which is something I no longer wish to do (it’s better that way) and also something that failed back then both in HR, and in extinction (earlier drafts) and just about any version of a story I ever tried to make was THE SCOPE. It always spiraled out of my hands. God entities always escape me. Magic systems always escape me. How cities and such would be regulated in these scenarios escape me. Its just things I’m not comfortable writing about in general

So that’s why I have made changes to it currently (the whole lens of technology over it) because it makes it easier to think about, and easier to handle. Post apocalypses are fun to handle, and also easy to handle (for me, in this context). Technology going awry feels like its easier to think about than just vague “magic”, even if in the end the aesthetic looks literally exactly the same. Does that make sense? I hope it makes sense.

To give an example: Magic spells and circles → programs and code lines. That can be shot into machinery or meat (recodes your fucking genome in real time and gives you super brain hemorrhage idk). I guess it just gives my brain something to latch onto that isnt just vague rules of a magic system that could potentially be anything and everything? It essentially works the exact same way… its just the lens of looking at it is changed.

Mimics are their own thing now (nanotechnology, instead of vague.. shadow things). Adri is his own thing while still connected to mimics (an angel array made of the same stuff, instead of.. whatever else). Connected to the world. AND all the conflicting but dearly beloved concepts I had for him actually fit (snake, scarf, smoke, usurper of a body that is not his. Hey remember when he was made out of ashes/smoke and eventually out of goop. Well all of that is true at once now! It’s ALL canon! Bitch! The concepts have been reconciled!!)

There are also more “normal” creatures besides these, animals that have either evolved aboveground due to fit into new world niches (so I can design Whatever without being too limited) and there’s also machine/biomachine chimeras, and purposed grown organisms, and just Weird Shit made by machines in the belly of the earth (meat is just complex machinery. you know this. your heart is a piston and your blood gasoline. but I digress.) So I have the space to Get Weird if I so choose, on my own terms this time. And it will have a proper place in the world.

There used to be a lot of concepts that were cool that I missed a lot when I had to shift away from them. Like mimics infecting people and pretending to be them, and then being able to break the hosts bodies apart to make bodies for the mimic itself. That did not fly in pretty much 80% of the later versions of HR but I was able to bring it back for this one. I’ve tied mimics to the epidemic and to Adri in a way that MAKES SENSE but lets me go wild anyways

I guess… the short way of explaining is that. Instead of it being very vague supernatural stuff of dubious origin, now it's a ‘manmade horrors beyond your comprehension’ type deal (still of dubious origin). Which obviously neither the characters nor I would be able to explain to you the details of its origins but the distinction MATTERS to me (to my brain).

Something else about HR is that it’s made up of me having rounded up a bunch of ocs who’s stories were empty or were left to the void so that they could have a fitting home where they could shine. At the end of the day I just wanna do my characters justice. I don’t want to just relegate them to nice set pieces (even though they ARE cool set pieces), but each of them has years of backstory stuff that I would like to keep to not lose the essence of said character and its where I put the bulk of my writing effort into.

I want their connections to the story to be solid, but I also want their base vibes and the vibes I am familiar with for those characters to BE THERE too. So if I’m slow with revealing info, or writing in general, its literally because all the processing power in my skull is being used to think of how to best approach that and not just throw low quality spaghetti at a wall. (Sometimes the spaghetti method works very well, but often. It does not. And only makes things more complex in the long run, so I have learned to be more careful with it)

Dianne and Nirven are over 12 years old now as characters. That 's insane. And she still has the same core concept of how her magic works as I created it ages ago.

Same for Bei. He still has his same vibe back when I made him 10 years ago.

And Adam when I made him 9 years ago. Though I’m working out stuff for him still in this new edition, but I’ll get there. I promise. 

Sooo……….. What I’m really trying to say is that I’m learning to have fun again. And at the same time (re)realizing I used to have some super swag ideas that I have never fully let go of that I am VERY adamant on keeping. And my aim is to go back to that unhinged unbridled joy of creating for a world that is just So Fucked Up but it Works somehow. And yeah, if you’ve ever been frustrated at my changes don’t worry: me fuckin’ too buddy. A thousandfold. And if you’ve ever been curious as to the why of everything, then I hope this rant serves as some sort of explanation?

So yeah, if you’re an old fan and missed old stuff, I hope I am able to do it justice once more and from now on. I promise I am trying my best, I always have been. It just works better sometimes. And if you are someone new and dont know what the fuck I’m talking about, 1. thank you for reading this far and 2. I hope you enjoy the ride regardless

And who knows…. knowing me in a few years I might see this all changed again. Or maybe this will be the one, finally, that sticks. We’ll see. At the moment like I said, I am focusing on loving my characters, their world, their and my original intentions, and just having as much fun as I can with it. If I create confusion in the process then that’s something I will have to accept. I’m not a big media corporation with a team or writers, or even just one (1) accomplished author with a huge brain. I’m not tolkien. I’m just some guy having fun with made up guys in my brain

Thank you for reading this far, if you did, if there’s anything you’d like to comment or discuss (if anything, I don’t expect it) please feel free to reply or DM me, I try to respond in a timely manner when possible <3 

Thanks for sticking around too. It means the world to me that you have. Have a really good week, cheers

[chairteeth]

Fun fact, Nemu is a sadist

So you see Papa I know I’m gonna need screenshots for this one but HEAR ME OUT. I have actual arguments for this. There’s gonna be a lot of screenshots though, because I feel like in this case it’s a bit more overt once you look at it through this lens. This isn’t so much an essay as something similar to that time I went on a short rant about how Touka acts like a cat but here you go.

Editing Note: The Ao3 version of this essay is superior, I recommend it more than the post.

I’m gonna be very blunt. Nemu is a sadist. An extremely picky sadist that goes from mild to borderline disturbing, but a sadist nonetheless. Girlie has hella concerning moments. There’s the part about enjoying seeing people in pain, yes, particularly pain caused by her (directly or indirectly), but it’s more complex than that. It’s relishing one’s power over others. It’s enjoying when others are humiliated. Enjoying putting people in messed up positions and situations, watching or forcing them to hurt themselves or their loved ones, Sisyphean tasks, etc. There’s pretty terrifying potential to what she would be capable of if encouraged, considering her extensive historical and literary knowledge (looking at you, Madness of Hercules Shizuka. If you know you know).

As for the reasons, well, it makes sense with her background and as a coping mechanism, a way to vent. Sadism most often originates from feeling powerless in daily life, general powerlessness/lack of power even over the self, and repressed anger/frustration, so it tracks with what we know about Nemu. And yes, this happens since childhood. I’m gonna explain my arguments for the intense ‘Nemu is a sadist’ interpretation I have, don’t you worry, and there will be screenshots galore for once!

Let’s start with the mildest stuff. Which is actually Touka-related. Nemu really enjoys getting a reaction out of Touka, mainly earlier in their relationship (when she wasn’t Irreversibly Whipped)—though bits of it remain. This manifests in all of the teasing and the purposeful “humiliation” through things like games (the card game scene comes to mind). It’s easy too, because Touka is so extremely reactive. Here’s a very old example of this much milder manifestation, the card game scene in question:

Touka then starts crying (you can see the tears) because she’d mapped out the entire game and memorized Nemu’s cards and Nemu truly had no reason to pull this move. Leading to this response from Nemu:

Going to another side of things, the funny (/s) humiliation uwasa should not be overlooked. I know I haven’t posted my document where I hyperoveranalyze what each and every one of Nemu’s uwasa means (because it is incredibly disturbing in this raw form), HOWEVER, the Rumor of the Cemetery Banquet Feast is just one of multiple rumors that adds to this specific topic. And also uh the Fashion Monster. There are many, many things that I can gleam from the latter existing in the first place, but it’s described as:

“A Rumor that appears before confident, dressed up girls. It drags its victims into an alley, and if the Rumor isn’t told it looks stylish, it will strip off the victim’s clothes.”

Thank you Nemu, thank you so much. I don’t think I have to say anything for you to see why this applies to the sadist thing. As for the Rumor of the Cemetery Banquet Feast:

“My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Cemetery Banquet, and the rumor thereof! Fated rivals, arguing friends– if you want everyone to get along, then this Rumor is for you! Anyone who reads its invitation will be guided to the pre-banquet proving grounds. If– and only if– you can make the banquet lively, then you pass! And you’ll be invited up to Paradise, complete with kindly parting words. But if you plan to participate, you’d better take great care! If you fall short of proving yourself, you’ll literally fall into the underworld, to boot. It’s a rumor that ALL of the temple’s supporters are talking about. C’mon now, let’s liven things up!”

And the way the event goes is… Well. 

The Rumor greets its “attendees” in a kind, heavenly voice, casually “forgives” (brushes off) their attempts to break its rules, and gives gentle encouragement (plus painfully-gentle critique) as they resort to performing various party tricks to satisfy it. Once they satisfy the Rumor by setting aside both their pride and their mutual animosities, it escorts them to the top of its pagoda in a giant, golden hand… where they literally pass on to the afterlife.

Thank you Nemu, thank you so much. I think you see where I’m coming from here. As for some of the other things I mentioned at the start, well, there’s this part of Arc 1 Chapter 8:

She truly does speak in the cultiest possible way. Her dialogue is far more cult leader-like than Alina's or Touka's. There's also this part:

Doesn’t she look quite pleased… These are pretty much one after another. But okay fine, here’s a couple from Chapter 9:

Really. Really look at this through the sadism lens. She also giggles while telling the others that they’ve reached their limit right after Kanagi and especially Tsuruno expresses feeling sick and heavy and in pain. Which… is a worse reaction than Touka’s, that’s for sure. What’s fascinating is that in her MGS, Nemu seems to care the most about the Feathers.

As for my final example, I’m just gonna leave a bunch of screenshots from Uwasa Tsuruno’s MGS here. Pay attention to the way Nemu speaks to Tsuruno and the words she chooses to use (it'd be a lot more obvious if Nemu was older than Tsuruno probably):

So in closing. Nemu Hiiragi is a sadist. Funny venting mechanism you’ve got right there, I sure hope it won’t lead to anything more questionable than you’ve already done. Good luck with your wife, Touka, have fun.

[crusherthedoctor]

📞 a character others dislike but you don’t?

♠️ favorite protagonist?

🕷️a character you feel is underrated?

📞 - a character others dislike but you don't?

Elise has gained more appreciation over time, but you still get people who think she's to blame for everything wrong with '06. She was a decent if underdeveloped character who simply wasn't used in the story that well, and anyone who thinks turning her into a Not-Sally is the only way to fix her isn't trying.

There's also Zor and Marine, both of whom I will always defend. Isn't it wild how I can barely remember anything from The End's three minute tough guy Reddit copypasta, yet everything Zor says is solid gold... shout out to IDW for missing the point and making him an unironic tryhard like every other villain in the comic. As for Marine, people act as though her character development never happened, which isn't helped by Flynn being one of those very people, and I don't understand why they give her flak for her stereotypical accent, yet make no such complaints about Bunnie.

For a couple of non-Sonic examples: King Sombra kind of went through the same arc as Elise in retrospect. As in, nowadays he has more open fans, but back when he made his debut, he received a disproportionate amount of flak for being a mostly silent villain, and the way he was used. I personally appreciated what they were going for with him, mainly cause of how they conveyed his Crazy Prepared defenses and the like, and honestly, by the time FiM concluded, I think he ended up better off than certain other villains lmao.

And of course, Moneybags. Not counting the first game (cause he didn't exist yet), I don't consider it a true Spyro experience if Winnie the Shit doesn't pop up in increasingly improbable locations to make deals in exchange for, *ahem*, a small fee. He also has some of the best lines. ("What are you going to do, sue me?")

♠️ - favourite protagonist?

Gex is unironically a better written character than everyone in Frontiers and IDW put together. This realisation makes me want to drink tap water at Jerry Garcia's.

Tails has always been my main bro out of the Sonic good guys, cause of how smart he is and how much he wants to help. :D It's also why I'm vocal about how much I despise it when fans double down on reducing the franchise to Just Furry DBZ due to super forms and whatnot, since it means Tails and other characters not named Sonic/Shadow/Silver are guaranteed to be treated even more like they're not good for anything meaningful. >:|

Then there's Spyro of course, which I know will be considered ironic to some given my complex feelings on Sonic, but truth be told, Spyro isn't really that similar to Sonic beyond some snark. He does admittedly act like a dude with tude in the first game, but it's clear that he's younger in that one. From the second game onward, where he's slightly older, he's considerably more chill... at least compared to Bubsy and many others from the 90's. And speaking of, despite his dialogue consisting entirely of WOAH, I respect Crash as well, since it was the bandicoot that got little me into the world of video games.

And many things change, but my fondness for Fluttershy will never die. Just as I have a preference for funny robot-loving villains who nonetheless remain a legit serious threat instead of being a joke, I have another preference for kindhearted quiet characters... which is why I also enjoy Trip... and Tikal... look, we all have our types, I'm sure you can sympathise. ;P

🕷️ - a character you feel is underrated?

The Hard-Boiled Heavies have mostly been pushed aside since Mania came out (aside from that one IDW story, but that's not a blessing), and it makes me madder than YouTubers who pretend they're mad because there are villains with dialogue who have less personality than these guys. They're so much fun, and despite all of them having the same Egg Robo template, their designs remain distinct from each other, even in silhouette form.

I also took to Ariem early on. Like the Heavies, "underrated" refers to general lack of fandom buzz compared to other characters, since although she appears to be quite liked, the acknowledgement given to her is somewhat limited due to her being stuck in an Android-only game for the time being. Some people also have an obsession with comparing her unfavourably to either Sage or Lanolin, for reasons I can probably guess in both cases. Me? I love her design, and her interactions with Cream and Knuckles are cute. :> I know it's not likely, but I hope she appears elsewhere so that she can be brought to more fans' attention... provided she doesn't get IDW'd.

Finally, a more complicated example: Metal Sonic. Now yes, he's very popular and beloved, and remains so to this day, but during the last couple of years, I feel I've been seeing two growing sides in the community when it pertains to him: the side who loves Neo Metal Sonic, and believe he's only a threat in that form like Flynn apparently believes (given how he often turns regular Metal into a jobber), and the side who consider him lame or essentially worthless because of his minimal characterization compared to others. He might not say much, and he might be a hedgehog-shaped tool of Eggman's ambition rather than a complete person of his own, but I believe there's a lot you can do with Metal that wouldn't require turning him into Usurper the Elf Shoes. OVA Metal ain't S-tier for nothing.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #317

After writing last night's letter to you, I was very disgruntled to discover a deer tick on my left arm, near my elbow.

I dunno if it's the same in your world, but in my world, it's very important, especially if you live in the Northeastern United States, to thoroughly check your body for ticks anytime you go walking in nature. The ticks in my part of the world carry nasty diseases, and one of the nastiest ones they carry is Lyme disease, which is carried exclusively by deer ticks; I think I covered it in a previous letter.

I quickly pulled it off of me (albeit while crankily muttering a few choice expletives like "twatwaffle, "cockgoblin", "dickbasket", and "buttmonkey", but still!!). Like in the last letter in which I wrote about ticks, it wasn't on me for long enough to get a chance to feed, so the odds of me getting infected are relatively slim. Still, the bite is circled with permanent marker, and I'll keep an eye on it and on how my body is feeling generally for the next several days.

I went to bed a little later than I should have last night. And then I woke up a little earlier than I should have, after that. Nonetheless, I somehow felt pretty good, I guess? Which is surprising, considering how angry my legs were after last night's walk. I made an epic sandwich out of roast beef, salami, colby-jack cheese, onions, pickles, and mayo:

I also made a jasmine green tea for the first time in a while to go with it; the swirls were particularly tasty-looking today:

...And here was the resulting plate of noms; want some...?

...For whatever reason, today I decided to start a batch of bone broth. I've had a bunch of bones and a bunch of veggie scraps just sitting in my freezer for a while now. Today, I had energy. So today, I decided to make use of them:

This is a mixture of pork, beef, and chicken bones. Scrumptious, no?

But you can't just have bones for a good broth; you gotta have veggie bits, too:

...I like to add even more things after that:

...It's a combination of various teas, both herbal and non-herbal. There's juniper berries, and rosebuds, and dried mulberries and everything.

I even added some dried stinging nettle; it's bad to touch it, but it's very nutritious when steeped in hot water...

...I topped it off with a branch of mugwort, given to me by... shucks... someone who... decided they don't wanna come around anymore...

...I miss them. But they have to do what is best for them, I suppose...

...

Anyway, to this, you add an acid - just a splash will do. This helps to break down the bones and the veggies and the teas and herbs so that all those juicy nutrients can seep deliciously into the water! I usually like to use apple cider vinegar; it's good stuff!!

...From there, we fill our pot with water, pop a lid on it, and let it simmer for somewhere between 36 and 48 hours:

...It'll be ready in a few days.

It's basically like brewing potions in a cauldron, hahaha! Already, my house smells amazing. Suppose there's no better day than today for doing this sort of thing! Today is Halloween. I suppose in some ways, it's kind of like Pumpkin Fest in your world, except the history is different. There's no Dark Army coming to get us, because we don't have flesh-and-blood magical creatures in my world.

That said, a long time ago, it was common for a bunch of people called pagans and druids and stuff to believe in and honor nature spirits, and spirits of the dead, and other similar stuff. Nowadays, unfortunately, there aren't as many pagans or druids anymore as there otherwise might have been (because of our horrifying history). Still, the existence of non-corporeal magical entities is hotly debated in some circles (with most people believing that they don't exist).

...I think the reality we live in is too weird and fantastical to discount the possibility of the existence of non-corporeal creatures. But if they exist, it's not stuff I can see with my normal senses or measure with currently-existing instruments, and I'm hesitant to play around with things that I don't understand.

Anyways, the Celtic peoples commonly celebrated a holiday called Samhain (pronounced "sah-ween", because the Gaelic languages use Roman letters differently than English does, which is totally cool!); on this day, it's believed that the veil between the corporeal world and the non-corporeal world is very thin, and so people, in an effort to honor and appease the spirits on the other side of the veil (so that they don't become hostile!), went from door to door, saying words in exchange for little treats.

...And then early Christians showed up, and they REALLY DID NOT LIKE people who didn't practice Christianity. And so they forcibly morphed this pagan holiday into something else - now known as Halloween, or All Hallow's Eve, and a couple other variants. Halloween has a number of the same elements as Samhain, except... whitewashed and censored to appease delicate Christian sensibilities.

...It's fucking lame. Though I know that not all Christians nowadays are horrible colonizers who are willing to beat, torture, and commit genocide on others for the sake of cultural homogeneity (a non-trivial number of them still absolutely cannot tolerate the existence of other cultures...), but... the early ones absolutely were horrible colonizers who went around to other places, forcing people to abandon their own cultures and beliefs or else face gruesome punishment, while also stealing their resources and exploiting them however they possibly fucking could, and insisting that they were somehow "lesser" to justify their continued exploitation, and... just...

...The history is bloody and horrifying. To give you an idea of how it goes... nowadays, this is our "fun" caricature of a "witch"; I'll leave a link to a picture; I didn't draw this:

...This is cute unless you know the history of witch trials. I'll give you a VERY oversimplified summary of the history...

A long time ago, early Christians got so scared of anyone that didn't share their beliefs that they decided that everyone else was some kind of devil-worshiper that needed to be eradicated in a variety of brutal and vicious ways. And there was a "witch hunt" craze that went along with that. And also Crusades and Inquisitions... but those are outside of the scope of today's letter. And also they're just as (if not more) fucking horrible and depressing as this other shit I'm about to tell ya.

In any case, "witches" were people who were thought to practice any kind of magic, and Christians in those days were very afraid of them. Even some Christians now are still VERY afraid of "witches"; a non-trivial number of them believe that "witches" get their "power" from demons or the devil or whatever.

In the days of witch hunts, women held an even lower position in society than they do now, and so they were the most common target. If a woman turns down your sexual advances? Accuse her of being a witch to get revenge. If you're tired of your wife? Accuse her of being a witch to get rid of her. If a woman is a little too good at her choice of occupation and it pisses you off? Accuse her of being a witch to make her stop existing. There were LOTS of excuses in those days. So lots of women who were healers, or who made ale, or who were reasonably good with animals, or even if she was more skilled than a man at any task ever... well... you get the idea.

So the accused woman would be snatched up and taken to a place where she'd be beaten and broken until she "confessed" to being a witch. And if you don't wanna know the details about this, you should probably skip the rest of this paragraph, because they put these women through unspeakable torture to get these "confessions". They'd break fingers and hands, pull out nails and hair, break teeth, break ribs, break the face, and worse - you name it, and it was probably done. Hell, they probably did things even more vile than anything you can think of. And sometimes they'd do this for days on end. It was pretty fucking bad, and that is a huge fucking understatement.

...By that point, the woman would "confess" to just about anything, in order to get the torture to stop. And so... she'd come out, bound to something, and she'd be paraded around the village with a crooked, broken nose, broken, crooked teeth, a swollen face, gnarled hands, ratty-looking hair, a hunched-over posture, skin black and green and blue and red and discolored from all the fucking bruises...

...Look at the "cute" picture up there again. Description fits, doesn't it? This is our "witch". This is how the modern imagery of one came about in my world. The modern imagery is the end result of the endured torture. From there, the freshly-convicted "witch" would be hanged, burned, drowned, have rocks thrown at them until they die, or some other similarly horrifying method of "disposal".

...Great thing to dress up as while going door-to-door to get candy. </sarcasm>

...

...Still, beautiful, 80-degree Fahrenheit (27.7-degree Celsius) weather we're having for the kiddos to gather candy in while dressed in costumes...

(It's supposed to be 50 degrees F (10 degrees C) at most, this time of year. 😳😳😳)

...We bought candy just on the off-chance that we'd get a few kiddos stopping at our door; our Homeowners Association generally discourages any kind of walking or trick-or-treating (because they're a bunch of crotchety old geezers who hate children and have nothing better to do than be angry and uptight about innocuous things), but we did get like 2 trick-or-treaters, so that was kinda neat.

...I guess I'm glad that they'll be able to be comfortable in their costumes outside without getting cold and needing to cover up their costume by putting on a jacket halfway through...

(THIS ISN'T NORMAL.)

...

...Sephiroth... I... I think of the state of my world, and I think of the color of my skin, and I think of the way my ancestors were to the rest of the world (the way a non-trivial number of people with my skin color STILL ARE to the rest of the world!), and... I kind of resent the history that led up to my creation. That's because this horrifying history is the root cause of a lot of what's wrong with my world. It's complicated and messy and... it's not something I have the power to change on a mass scale.

...I know that I can't change what the people of the past did. I know that I did not consent to being born into a system that assigns unfair and arbitrary disadvantages to people who don't look like me. I know that all I can do, with what little power I have, is to advocate for change.

But... though my skin is pale (seriously, why in fuck do we fight over melanin??? of all the stupid, useless, asinine shit to fight over... for fuck's sake...), I was still assigned female at birth, and this comes with a lot of drawbacks that shouldn't exist (because apparently we gotta fight over who's got what kind of genitalia, too); my voice doesn't carry a whole lot of weight in this place.

...All I can do is keep writing, and keep trying to treat people kindly so that maybe someday all this weird nonsensical fighting and bloodshed will stop. I don't know what else to do, so I'll keep trying to do my part to make things a little better, even if I don't always know exactly what that is; I don't want anyone to have to suffer.

(...really, I just wanna get the hell out of here and go to a place with all different kinds of people, and still none of them are fighting; instead we're all just hanging out and making pretty things and eating tasty snacks and doing fun stuff together...)

For now, I suppose I'll just vote, and hope that bad things don't happen...

Anyhoot. I should probably get going; I was looking forward to watching more Trinity Blood with a friend today; maybe watching the character that reminds me of you will help put my frazzled brain at ease.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow, okay? So please stay safe out there.

Your friend, Lumine

[ninthprime]

post where i just talk about what im palisade shipping. because im bored.

bucci real. i like to think about how gucci ended up in this deep. how lonely are you that the fish who you know used to scam you and did war crimes is the one you’re falling in love with!! why are you having romantic thoughts about being great heroes and saving everyone with them!! brnine likes gucci of course but i truly don’t think they realized how deep it was until that pre-sun convo. and its like oh gucci is in deep with me. well i’m not gonna process that in my brain because i can’t connect to my own emotions. it’s toxic they’re not good for each other but its ok. care for each other anyway.

brnine/jesset is real too you know it is. but i also think that’s jesset occasionally wanting to make out with them and brnine would probably agree but is not processing it and is just thinking Jesset’s my best friend! ok brnine.

this does mean gucci/brnine/jesset is real i think. bucesset. as it has been dubbed. usually i dont think its romantic with gucci and jesset but it’s. A Relationship. what if we mind melded once and hated each other and what if we were currently each other’s ally on the terrorism council nonetheless and what if we were both in love with a pathetic war criminal. i want them to freak out about brnine being on the pact ship together. i want them to both be a little fucked up about how they nearly just had to give themselves up to the bilats. i want jesset to make gucci promise to not fail brnine like they both did valence.

you all know gurbalence is the forever ot3…for years i have thought of them every day…you know we will get it. ali is already providing us a steady stream of balence. and you KNOW we will get gurlence. you know dre and austin will make that happen. you know gur and brnine are going to have to exist around each other via figure proxy. and it will be awkward and bad. but they are associated forever by grief :) do you think brnine has opinions on the gur puppet. hey if they try to free gur do you think someone will have to make him another body. hey do you think brnine has thought about how they have the notes and tapes that are valence and gur’s legacy recently

i think figure/gur (figur) (you know we have to call it figur) could be real but i need to see it. i KNOW how much a dre pc loves a npc romance. but it could also be so bad for them in the wrong circumstances…them being tied together ties them to clem in many ways still…they have such similar hurts. it is probably not great to finally gain freedom and then have a spider bound to you. but also i think they could understand each other. figure will definitely project on them a little as is their habit. i have to see the flirty quotient…well sometimes gur is just naturally like that.

i did mention this recently in replies but secretly though the figure ship i have been thinking about a lot this season is figure/thisbe. honestly it may be my largest ship this season. but i have been nervous to talk about it because the best thing about thisbe is that she does not see things the way others see them so it is a hard sell while still true to her character. but im not seeing things right. they like to rush into action together. figure wanted to know if she was being treated well and seems to have picked up on how she sees the world differently and will defer to her judgement. thisbe made a clock just for getting them away from clem and prioritized it for multiple missions. they are like a plant to her and now they have plants growing from them!! i think figure will be very grateful and may try to make it up to her and it will be cute and funny. this is thisbe’s weird little crewmate and she is going to hook them up to the blue channel irrigation system and provide them beneficial nutrients. this will be satisfying to her and they will feel very safe.

cori/elle real. they will kiss i think. what i need to see is for them to talk about devotion more. what made you realize you didn’t believe elle. what happened to you as a double agent. can what you know cut through cori’s pain. can it cut through her devotion. how can you share this with her without her punching you again. do you care enough about her to share this. i want to see it all on screen

my friends are much better than me than talking about arbitred the hot new ship but it’s real. sending someone a digital ham slurper is real. when you don’t have a candidate because that’s so demeaning but you work closely with a weird little cyborg girl that’s not romance you know that’s just putting someone under a microscope and thinking they’re entertaining. it’s not like you feel the nonhuman equivalent of a satisfied rush when she sends you an emoji and talks about how successful the two of you are at selling contracts together. simply an incredibly beneficial business transaction. you are sending her five more ham slurpers and watching her say npc dialogue about this.

this isnt a big ship yet but i want to see more of the crusade squad because i miss ignadiah and ramondre the swordbearer rivals. i think hets are allowed if they are constantly trying to destroy one another. they are so much fun to me.

[smograbbit]

Autism related rant incoming (sorry moots but I have nowhere else safe to put this and it neeeeeeds to get out of my head)!!

I’m so fucking tired of constantly having to explain to the same people that I can’t match my tone to the way I actually feel. 90% of the time, if I’m happy, sad, neutral, or excited, I just get told I “sound angry” or that I’m “acting mad” or, my personal favorite, that I need to “drop the attitude”.

But to me it genuinely doesn’t sound like that. To me it just sounds like normal talking. And when people accuse me of being angry when I’m legitimately not, that pisses me the fuck off. That actually makes me mad. Especially when people close to me, who claim to understand that this is an issue I genuinely have no control over, say it to me. I’ve spent, at the very least, ten fucking years trying to fix this. Possibly more that I don’t remember/wasn’t aware of. Nothing works, because it’s literally how I was fucking born. You can’t change genetic coding.

This isn’t something I can just turn off. I understand that it’s probably really, reaaaally off putting, and more than likely could be seen as offensive. But I wish these people would put themselves in my fucking shoes for once. At least try to understand how I see it.

Picture this: you’re sitting with a group of friends, family, acquaintances, whatever. You’re all having a nice conversation. You make a statement to continue said conversation. And even though to your ears, it sounded like a perfectly rational, calm thing to say, suddenly everybody looks at you with confusion, concern, or downright rage. They ask you, “why the fuck are you angry?” Now, you’re confused, because all you did was contribute to the conversation. You start to question what you did wrong. You start to wonder if you should have worded it differently, if that would have even mattered. You genuinely are not aware that you may have sounded mean or upset. You don’t have an answer, because to you, it just sounded like a normal sentence. And so, scared now that you’ll upset someone else just by existing, you go silent, completely ceasing to talk. After a while, you quietly exit the group to avoid another conflict. That’s how most of my conversations go.

And, seriously, how many times should I have to re-explain this to people? The same people nonetheless?? I can change a lot about myself, but I can’t change how I was born or what I was born with. I can’t change the fact I have autism. It’s not like my depression and anxiety, which can be managed or “turned off” with the correct medication. It’s literally how my brain is wired.

I wish people would listen to me when I say “pay attention to the words I’m saying, not the tone in which I say them”. I’m basically begging the general population to use that advice. And if you’re unsure, just fucking ask me!! A simple “hold on, are you actually angry, or is it the autism thing?” Or something similar would clear up pretty much any confusion. But no. It’s easier to just say I sound angry, tell me to calm down when I already am calm, tell me to drop the attitude, call me a bitch, etc.

I’m fucking sick of it. I wish I were normal. I hate being autistic.

[momomiooo]

Essay😛

I think a problem a lot of people have with CI (including myself) is how different she is compared to the likes of v4 and talk. There was an obvious aesthetic set up by Gynoid that Cevio didn’t exactly follow through with and the color scheme came off as strange to me so i shall describe my few problems in sorta depth

Twitter

VFlower used to be EXTREMELY active almost like a person on twitter. I got curious during a car ride home and saw cevio attempted it but it didn’t hold the same strength as flowers did. While many people don’t even follow Vflowers account or even go through her post it’s still clear people liked having vocaloids seem realistic, like they were like us. It gave her a bit more relatability that could make even newer fans amazed. While The trend of realistic tweets from vocaloids has died down (sadly) to see they’re at least trying gives me hope for flowers future endeavors! Some of the things CIflower lacks are things that V posted which could be seen as risky for the company (some old tweets consisting of flower trying to flirt with girls, swooning over randos and talking about big boobs[😭???]) it gave flower some spice no other vocaloid softwares DARED to do!

Her Design

ah yes, the initial problem, her design. As fore-mentioned Cevio didn’t go with the exact color palette/scheme as the last few models but I still think it was a great idea. It feels like we’re watching an emo girl grow into adult-hood, flower now appearing to be around 17-24! The only problem is her color scheme. While I love the idea it just doesn’t fit flower and I think to make it work they had to change flowers most notable features, her hair and eyes. Her eyes have gone from magenta or pink (depending on who drew her when) to blue. Her hair also changed, getting a similar color to ia’s, more blonde and pink than white. And while I could go on about the software companies hating while haired characters (maybe they don’t sell as much like piko idk) or how they need to learn their audience consist of neurodivergent gays afraid of change, I don’t have an explanation for this one. Surely I could search and find out something but I don’t know why flower took such a leap from her talk vb to ci. I understand you change as you grow blah blah blah but still how did she go from confidence and the only problem you see is her dropping her head phones in talk to “c-can you p-pass the ketchup m-mi-miss?” She looks so scared and nervous😭.

Her voice

holllyyyyy crap. I could take the model, “pink eyes are unrealistic anyways… maybe it’s just shading” but the difference from AI and hand done is just.. wow… on one hand maybe maturing caused a bit more feminine to come into her life but oh my flying Fukase. Dunno whoever’s reading this but that whole “learn their audience” was observing how me and other autistic people felt about the design😭😭😭 I hate change so when I heard the lower one’s eyes cover I almost had a panic attack. Where is the angrodgany??? Where’s the vflower??? I get they’re supposed to sound realistic but it just sounds feminine. Could just be the creature of habit thing but I personally prefer her older voice banks just because of the power and emotion I feel from her voice. Some covers make her sound real, like she’s struggled just like us. So far the songs with CI in them sound… well.. AI. Advanced AI, sure, but ai nonetheless.

summary-ish

if you hate this woman now because of the design, take a deep breath and remember…

YOU CAN HEADCANON ANYTHING!!!!!

Re-make flower, nothing is canon other than existence, and even those boundaries are tested by creative people! Have fun making a flower that represents YOU. It’s a voice with a name and that’s all that matters. Self project on the plant and give her a life you’d like! Still don’t think she’s a girl? PRONOUN IT UP! Flower is just a singing software package, have fun making her what you want to see while supporting others:D

Have a good day I am done yammering

[asherlockstudy]

On Rhett’s tattoo and deconstruction update

To the Rhett!tattoo Anon, I had not forgotten my promise to write about it but I intentionally waited for his deconstruction update because it was clear those two would be correlated and together provide more information. Besides, Rhett sort of explained the symbolism behind the tattoo pretty thoroughly and honestly.

The update episode confirmed what has always been clear and even more emphasized by the new tattoo; Rhett has always remained spiritual. I would take it a notch further and consider that he also remains religious in the sense that he actively seeks for a religion, dogma or belief that appears solid enough for him to believe in. In any case, it was a joy to listen to him. We are in a very similar place regarding spirituality, even though the way we landed there couldn’t be more different.

The tattoo is a reminder of where he’s been and where he is going. It has this Judaic / Biblical interpretation of the world as well as heaven and hell, things he factually knows are wrong. He reminds to himself that he started from a wrong place. However, where heaven is supposed to be is the little open door 👀 The little door can take so many meanings but ultimately, like he implied, it is the realisation that all those years of his youth, even when he was wrong, all the circumstances led to his life as it is now, to the changes and choices he has done now. Most things in his life, including his family and his relationship with Link and its evolution to whatever it is now exist because of all this time he was being wrong. Rhett realised the irony that this very religious system he was part of led him to paths and situations and choices and feelings that it itself condemns and ostracises. That religious world opened to him a little door to the unknown, which Rhett implied very cautiously that it might be his own paradise or an opportunity to explore further the ultimate truth.

The deconstruction update was thus not surprising. It wasn’t the main core that I found intriguing (although all the content was interesting) but rather the small details, the hints. Here are some notes:

* Rhett explained how he realised after leaving the faith that he had not changed. He still wanted to love his wife, his kids, his friends. I watched this twice and to be totally honest the second time it didn’t seem to me as strong as the first but I will mention it nonetheless; Link was a little frozen when Rhett said this and responded with a weak “yes” specifically when Rhett said “the loving his friends” part. He remained pensive throughout, I almost thought he was fighting to not look bored or tired but at the same time there was something in his dead / droopy expression that made me feel like he was trying to not get emotional, sad.

* Rhett implied that he was the target of disbelief from his immediate circle when he decided to leave the faith, specifically saying that those close or relatively close people to him that are still Christians accused him that he did not leave the church for the intellectual reasons he has mentioned but for actually ulterior “selfish desires he had” and that “deep inside they always knew Rhett was never genuinely following the spirit of the doctrine, he never belonged”. Now, that’s heavy and prior to that I think Rhett had never made such implications, he only talked about his scepticism. It’s interesting that “some people” said this when at the same time Rhett explains how earnestly absorbed he was by the doctrine. It makes you wonder (not really) what it is those people saw in young Rhett that made them question that Rhett could be a “true Christian” at heart and what “selfish desires” they are talking about. This kind of unpleasant exchanges he may have had with close people could be after all what inspired the song “I think I am supposed to like this”.

* Rhett created a thorough analogy in order to explain his experience leaving the faith and what he encountered in and out of the church, which was not all that different. But the way he phrases everything in this analogy is interesting, including that he equates leaving the faith as “getting out of a house”. And be in the open and free. To accept and love others. And to seek the truth still but without his former conviction that he is the right one.

PS. Link said his deconstruction update will be shorter and that he has found the answer to all of Rhett’s concerns and it’s very easy. I am willing to bet that his answer is love, unconditional love and living in the moment. And that this is the only truth that matters, to him. Link hasn’t healed from the trauma he gradually realised the church left to him and he is still uncomfortable in these discussions.

[darkpoisonouslove]

For fic writer asks: 1, 3, 10, 15, 25, 26, 31, 45, 46, 49 :)

Thanks! :D

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

I'm thinking either Imitation Play or The Power of Peace. Both are pretty similar - have an excessive amount of worldbuilding details, dry humping at inopportune times with the bonus of unconventional magic being involved, internal struggle that is worked out through the kind-of-smut and leads to an altered sense of self, asshole!Valtor and a Griffin who probably enjoys asshole!Valtor a little too much than strictly advisable. I feel like those are all staples of my writing. Both are also conceptually strong if I do say so myself. Imitation Play might be a little more so, though. I had the title before I had even started writing the story and I think it's reflective of every aspect of the story.

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

Angst, hate-love, hate sex, porn with feelings, alternate universes, eye color symbolism, too many goddamn metaphors, moral dilemmas, long-term relationships, repressed feelings, impossible to repress feelings, love making things complicated and probably a whole lot of other things.

10. How do you decide what to write?

Lmaooo, I don't have any control whatsoever over this. It's not so much a decision as much as it is just going with the flow. I just ask myself "Do I feel like writing today?" And if I manage to answer that with a yes or at least a "no, but at least I can try it and maybe I'll put myself in the mood", then I start going through my recently touched projects. If none of those makes my brain go "That's the one!", then I try going through my notes to see what other ideas I have. Sometimes that whole process is unnecessary, though, because I get an idea for a WiP or for a new story and the inspiration from that idea carries me the rest of the way. I have learned not to try to force a WiP that doesn't want to cooperate with me because that just leaves me with negative feelings for the fic in question and makes returning to it that much harder.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

Evil. Evil, evil, evil question. Am I gonna have to go through all of them now?... Nah, it's Sparks of Life. Granted, the reworked version of Sparks of Life that only exists in my head so far but it is Sparks of Life nonetheless. I adore magic and fantasy but do you know what I adore even more? Modern day versions of fantasy characters. Sparks of Life was my first modern day AU for Winx, I believe (I'm too lazy to check) and that's probably why I fell in love with it so thoroughly. Well, that and the fact that the first part of it I wrote already had Griffin and Valtor being married. It doesn't really have a plot. It's just vibes and character interactions but that makes it comforting because as long as I stick to the overarching but very vague theme, I can just add parts to it however and whenever I please.

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

Online thesaurus, online dictionaries, my dad's old Bulgarian-English and English-Bulgarian physical dictionaries, Google Translate for when I'm too lazy to pull out the physical dictionaries (but I will if Google Translate fails me (which is a not so rare occurrence), the OneLook Thesaurus and Reverse dictionary for when I remember what a word means but not what the word IS.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

I've actually written fics with no dialogue but those were short and inspired by songs and it was more of an inner monologue of the PoV characters. I would pick fic with only dialogue. I believe I could pull that off (depending on what you're trying to write, of course, but still).

31. What’s your ideal fic length to write?

Something that can be finished in one sitting, lol. But considering that lately my brain capacity is not what it used to be, finishing stories in one sitting isn't very realistic. I'm not particular about "ideal length". Based on the majority of my fics, my ideal length is 3-5k words. There are stories that require a lot more words if you want to do them justice, though. Long fic certainly has its many challenges but I always have something to add to a story so while I came up short when the actual writing is concerned, most of my ideas run pretty long.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

The flow of the story. I used to rush through parts without even realizing I was doing it. I didn't have a good grasp on how a story is supposed to flow and would make jarring shifts in tone or plot points. I like to think I've gotten much better at avoiding those.

Another thing is character motivations. Looking at my earlier fics, I can see that the characters were doing what they were doing just because I wanted them to regardless of whether it made sense for them to do it from a logistical PoV or from PoV of their characterizations. I really think I'm starting to figure out how to keep their motivations consistent and believable.

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

Typing on my laptop is so much more comfortable and faster than typing on my phone but I would write a story draft on my phone in a pinch. The only difference between those is in the number of typos I make. It definitely increases when I'm typing up a story on my phone. Otherwise, I don't think the device influences the quality or layout of the work. Sometimes, though, I feel that I will go insane if I don't write my story on paper. It's just a feeling and I tend to always write my longest fics on my laptop but for short(ish) one-shots, I usually use a notebook for the first draft (the Griffin x Marion fic I'm working on I wrote on paper first but Imitation Play was written directly on my laptop). That decreases the number of typos usually.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

As I mentioned above, I am currently working on this Griffin x Marion fic. I finished it the other day and the plan was to post it yesterday but pushing myself to write 2000 words in one day left me quite tired and I knew that last stretch I wrote would need a lot of editing so I decided to do what's best for the story. I am more than willing to share a snippet from the more polished parts though!

Figuring out Griffin’s play was the most crucial part of this visit to Cloud Tower. Oritel would have agreed, would have shown the same initiative in tailing the witch that Marion did. He would have been the only one who would have taken her intrigue with this perfect opportunity seriously.

Griffin’s stance on the politics around dark magic and the people who used it was clearly pronounced. It hadn’t taken Marion much effort at all to stir the conversation with her mother’s counselors to reveal the most scandalous information they’d heard about Griffin. All rumor, of course, but stemming from a solid foundation of the witch’s own making.

Her particle manipulation powers and her prowess with magic relating to all manner of heavenly bodies had raised more than concerns as soon as she’d altered the trajectory of the biggest meteor shower in the known universe.

The Dragon Scales rained harmlessly over the Magic Dimension riding the ripples of space currents believed to be the Great Dragon shivering and shedding her skin. Over thousands of years no scholars, scribes and astronomers had succeeded in deciphering the pattern behind the phenomenon.

Griffin had not only predicted it successfully this once, but also influenced its course. To the point where the meteors had blazed through the atmosphere of several planets leaving behind a fiery trail in the sky, small craters and hard rock on the ground, and not a shred of mysticism.

Griffin’s appointment as the newest addition to the Cloud Tower faculty had stirred unrest all over the Magic Dimension, all of its leaders left to ask what would happen if she decided to repeat her magic show but this time take it further. Marion suspected that had been the whole point of it – to make all the monarchs aware of the force they’d be facing if they decided to go against witchkind. The effect had rippled further, of course, other dark magic users who shared Griffin’s views witnessing it as well.

Learning who’d reached out to her would be of great use to Marion in light of her mother’s refusal to consider anyone else’s power but their own, given to them as a birthright. Even in the face of a magical show that would’ve exhausted Marion’s own powers to the point of inducing magic depletion syndrome for the next few days.

Instead of examining the pattern of odd and worrisome magic thefts all over the dimension the Queen of Domino had preferred to focus on Marion’s interest in Griffin and had set out to present it to anyone that noticed it as dutiful yet unfounded concern over state affairs, as overzealous protectiveness. She may as well have called it paranoia to Marion’s own face. In doing so she’d only left Marion one option – pursue it to the very end.

Send me fic asks

[benjinara]

An Earth Without Humanity

An Earth without humanity, would be the emptiest place in the Universe.

Of course, it is quite contradictory to the popular belief. Literally speaking, Space is emptier. Devoid of life. Devoid of thought. Devoid of feelings and desires and pains and joys.

When Humanity was at its peak, there was a view among many human beings, a hypocrisy that degraded the value of their own kind.

It was revealed through a question. What should be removed from Earth to make it a better place?

There were numerous responses. Some said war. Some said nuclear bombs. Some said hatred.

But from many people, came a similar, resounding response, ‘humans’.

It was their thought, that removing themselves from existence was what made the world a better place. It was their thought, that they didn’t deserve nature. War, conflicts, pain, suffering – to them, hatred was at the core of humanity. To them, the grand monuments built, the languages spoken, the religions and cultures, was what needed to be removed from the planet, to make it a better place.

Oh, how smart they must have felt, for their response. How proudly they must have smiled, for such an answer was regarded so philosophical, so true and profound. How right they must have felt about their belief.

It would be wrong to say that all humans shared the same idea, but this thought was carved into minds of many throughout the generations. The thought that humanity was a mere, insignificant thing. A parasite infesting the world. Be it the idea that humans were just an anomaly created by nature that ended up doing more harm than good. Be it the idea that humans were a mere group of entities created by a certain god, or a supernatural being, just because.

It was an innate hypocrisy among these people, to generalize their own kind. To goad their kind into the theory of humanity having taken away the beauty of the Earth. To say that wars, battles, bombs, and fighting ruined the world. To say that their entire kind should disappear for the betterment of Earth.

How selfish. How stupid. How immature.

Such a wonder nature is, with trees and plants, growing on sunlight, enriching the environment. With many kinds of animals, vertebrate and invertebrate, roaming the world in search of food, shelter and family. The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon continues its journey across the Earth’s orbit. The faraway glistening stars sending their image down to the planet over millions of years.

There is rain, hail, snow, hurricanes. The Earth is a network of living things. The atmosphere changes, the oceans always move. And the Earth rotates around itself, orbiting the Sun. Containing life.

But what is the point of it all?

My eyes will never tire of these sights. That day I chose to lay among the blades of grass, on a cliff near the ocean. My feet aimed at the giant shape of the sun, in all its glory and light, drawing closer and closer to the horizon. The clouds waltzed slowly, the stars glistened into visibility as a veil of darkness fell over the sky.

The wind was high up there, it mixed with the sound of the waves crashing at the crags below. It rustled the grass around me.

The constellations began to show, as the sky darkened. I knew none of them. But I craved their beauty, nonetheless. To think that all these small glistening dots, this glitter sprayed across the sky were all stars, a distance unfathomably far away – it filled my mind with a haunting sense of loneliness.

The constellations moved across the sky, or rather, the Earth turned. And I experienced short lapses of sleep. I’d be lucid, then unconscious, then lucid again. It was a cycle until the night ended, and I could see the sun rising again, from the direction my head was laying.

I stood up, finally. Breathing in the fresh air, letting the wind ruffle my hair.

There were birds, chirping. Flying in flocks and flying alone, finding fruits and insects to eat. Every now and then as I walked across the field, I’d spot a rabbit or a squirrel, searching for food.

I walked away from the ocean, more inland, into the forest. The sun was reaching its peak now, and the trees sheltered me from the glaring rays. Plucking berries and fruits from thriving trees I came across, I wandered the terrain.

In a flash of brown-orange and white, I spotted a fox. It came lightly bounding through the trees, caught my gaze and stared at me for a moment. Regarding me with curiosity, and perhaps fear as well. I could tell this creature didn’t recognize what my species or status in the food chain was. But it seemed to understand that I was of no harm to it. It held the stare for a moment more, then bounded away on its way, in search of a kill.

When the sunset neared, I found myself a place to sleep, on a large, cosy tree branch. And while I couldn’t see the stars from where I was, I could hear the sound of animal calls within the forest. Hoots from Owls, screeches from bats, and an occasional howl, maybe from the fox.

As I lay with the hard bark at my back, I thought of many things again. The beauty of the constellations I had seen last night. The agility and the swiftness of the fox. Did the fox know that the glitter he saw in the sky each night were stars from far away? Did the fox know that Earth revolved around the Sun?

No. I didn’t think so.

The world it knew was simple. Hunt, eat, sleep and survive. If you lived into your adulthood successfully, then find a mate, and multiply. And once your time is up, silently die.

That night in my moments of sleep, I saw flashes. Dream-like flashes of what once was. Smiling faces, laughter, happiness, joy. The world was full in my dreams, not empty. And I found myself lost in the experience, lost for the sake of my own sanity.

The stars were beautiful, so was the fox, so was the cliff and the sea and the sun. But the beauty in it was hollow. Empty.

I was precariously close to falling off the branch when I woke up the next day, and my body felt different. It was weaker somehow. And my mind was clouded.

The days before I had held the beauty of the environment with such awe. But today my mind couldn’t register any of it. I saw the world through a grey filter.

I could tell that my mind somehow was affecting my body. That my dreams last night had sapped a part of myself into them. And a portion of my soul truly was lost in there. But I felt happy for the small snippet of myself that had escaped the vast emptiness.

As I continued to wander, I came across a stream. Small, colourful fish danced through the waters, and I waded in, following the gentle current. It lead towards a small cascade, which I leapt down.

Immediately my face went under, as I realized the water was deeper than I had expected. Panic rose in my throat, but my feet touched the rock bottom not too far from the surface, and I managed to swim my way back up.

Once I was treading water and breathing, I realized that the pool around me was not empty but filled with many pretty little creatures. There were bigger, colourful fish here. Dragonflies on lotuses. Kingfishes perched on weathered rocks around the pool. Cranes standing in the shallow parts.

Abundance of water meant the trees around the pool were thriving. Not much later, I found myself feasting on delicious fruits, hoping to get rid of the lethargic feeling that had shifted over my body. The birds side-eyed me, but didn’t fly away. If I sat close by them, they would flap or inch aside, but they never left the pool.

I had to wait until I was all dry, before I could stand up and start walking again. The fruits had been plentiful, but somehow my sluggishness didn’t go away. I was wandering the land once again, thinking strange, strange thoughts.

Did the birds know that the sky was full of stars? Did the fish know that the sun rose and set every day? Did those creatures know they were living on a planet rotating around itself, orbiting a large star?

I felt my body sag down with exhaustion. Today had been different. I hadn’t felt the same energy as the days before, and fatigue had set in much earlier. I crawled to the base of a nearby tree, and curled up beneath it, resting my limbs. The world moved about around me, the sun moved under the horizon, the moon lit up the sky in a gentle glow, and the cries of nocturnal animals were heard yet again.

Suddenly there was a rustle, close by, coming nearer.

I raised my head, and in the shadows cast by the moonlight, I saw large shapes, roaming through the trees. A herd of deer.

The creatures hadn’t noticed me, but I watched them intently. Males with large antlers, females guarding their offspring. All pressed together in case of an emergency, making their way across the terrain.

When I lay back down and faded off into sleep, there were those strange dreams, strange visions again. Many people like myself, together, smiling and laughing. Everyone was different, everyone had different colours. Some where singing melodies, some were dancing. The world was full again. Full of beauty. Full of meaning.

I woke up, to the sound of thunder.

The moonlight was gone, the entire forest had been plunged to darkness. The wind howled deafeningly loud. And the trees bent and swayed. I could see nothing, sense nothing. The world was in chaos, and I was in the middle of it.

Thunder again. Much closer this time.

I got to my feet, feeling my way around. There was the trunk of the tree I had been sleeping under, my hand smashed into it when I felt my way around frantically. The darkness pressed onto me from all sides. I saw nothing. I sensed nothing. All I could hear was the frightening gale, screaming around me. Warning me of the coming storm.

A sudden flash of light.

For a brief second, I could see the world around me. And seizing my chance, I quickly looked around to seek shelter. Large, sturdy trees, rocks, bushes, caves, anything I could use to keep me safe for the night. The sky bellowed a loud rumble, the storm was getting closer.

In another flash of lightning, I quickly lunged forward, towards a large, tall tree I had spotted, that seemed to offer more shade and cover. The light was momentary, the darkness pressed onto me again. But I had memorized the path, and I was running. Bounding over the leaves and sticks, trying to outrun the storm.

A new sound joined the gale, the distant roar of rain. There was more lightning to illuminate my way and I quickened my sprint. The wind grew louder, the thunder booming in my ears, raindrops falling here and there. I was closer and closer, and closer –

There was another strike of lightning, a boom of thunder followed right one cue, and the next thing I knew was that the Earth was coming up to meet me.

My face smashed into the damp soil, and I let out a painful groan.

The whimper was overpowered by the booming slap of thunder that echoed through the sky, and the next thing I knew, a bright fiery light and a wave of heat burst out right in front of me, with a deafening bang! For a second, everything was still, the rain continued to fall, the rumble of the thunder resonated through the sky.

Then there was an awful crack. Another. Another.

My eyes went to the sky, in another flash of lightning, I saw what was coming down on me.

The tree I had been running to, was crashing down. The sheer size of it crushing all the smaller trees around it. And I knew I was in its way.

I screamed, the tempest and the gale accompanying me. I do not know what sort of force came over my body, I was back on my feet and running. Trying to escape from the falling tree’s path. My soles were hurting, my left ankle sending shocks of pain through my leg with every step I took.

Seconds later, synchronized with another bang of lightning and thunder, the massive tree crashed down onto the forest floor, sending tremors through the Earth.

The tempest shrieked, the gale cried. The skies roared. There were no stars to console me, no beautiful sights for my eyes to see, only pure chaos. I screamed, I screamed my throat raw. Sprinting through the forest in a maddened craze. The trees swayed dangerously, more cracks, more bangs as more and more of them fell. I ran, I ran, I ran and ran and ran.

My body was getting weaker and weaker, my vision was blurring and fading out, my limbs were sore. And my mind was no longer in the state of peace it used to be.

I was lost. I was alone. I had nowhere. I had no one. I was lost, I was alone, I had nowhere, I had no one.

The world was in chaos around me, and I had no absolution, no shelter. The rain drenched my entire body, and a chill ran through my skull and spine.

I felt myself falling, falling onto the damp floor. The world blacked out on me, and all the sounds around me grew into a crescendo, and pressed on my ears, until it became one loud form of silence. I lay unmoving. A poor, worthless, lonely soul, lost in a great storm.

I was lost in dreams again. Dreams of better days. Visions of joy and pain. There were people, dancing, singing, fighting, yelling. People holding hands, people hugging, people kissing.

And suddenly, I was feeling warm. A hand clutching my own, radiating heat and a sense of safety. I squeezed the hand back. Embracing the sign of life, embracing how real it felt. It was so beautiful, so filled. The world was peaceful, the world was chaotic. The world had meaning. The stars had meaning. The rain, the wind, the forest, it all had meaning. Life had meaning.

There were lights, lights of colours unheard of. Inventions, objects, never found in nature. Disasters, tragedies, made by different forces. Birth and destruction, light and darkness, joy and pain, love and hatred. It was all one swirling pool of ecstatic madness. It was beautiful. It was meaningful.

In that one moment, it was so... so complete. The world felt so full.

My eyes opened, to reveal a grey sky above me.

Empty grey.

Two large drops of tears rolled down from the corner of my eyes, into my hair. My throat felt clogged, and a cough rose in my chest. I wheezed, sputtering for breath. My entire body was aching.

I felt so... cold.

It took me a time that felt like hours to sit up, shivering with the cold. My frame resisted motion, making every movement painful and unendurable. My feet were covered with cuts and bruises, and when I tried to stand on my feet, I immediately fell back down onto my knees.

Trees and branches had fallen around me, and the sky was still all grey. It was daytime, but there was no sun. The air was damp and chilly. And the world seemed to have been turned upside down overnight.

Limping, I walked past the broken trees, stepped over the puddles, and wandered. There weren’t many animals to be seen today. And my body was even weaker. Every step I took shook my frame. Every mile I walked made me break into a fit of coughs. Exhaustion was wearing me down, and I could feel a chill, within my figure.

I tried looking for berries, but the smaller trees had all been battered up and broken in the storm. There were very few I could find. None that satisfied my hunger. I could not find my way to a stream, so the muddy puddles of water quenched my thirst.

There was a rattle every time I took a deep breath. There was a pain in my head every time I looked up. There was fatigue in my body, increasing by each step.

I fell.

I fell, and I was dreaming again. Dreaming of people, of wonderful sights. Hearing songs and melodies, hearing voices. There was warmth, there was happiness. There was balance, there was meaning.

Then, I was lucid again, somehow. I was in control of my body. But I was not sure if I had control over my mind. I could vaguely feel myself stumble, stagger, fall, stand up again, and keep stumbling. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know how many days passed. It didn’t matter. There was no meaning.

There was thunder again, less powerful than before. And a small drizzle that washed over me. Every breath brought a cough up my throat, every step made my bones rattle. Every gulp of saliva dried my mouth. Every move of my body made me weaker, and weaker and weaker.

Every time I slipped and fell into unconsciousness, I dreamt of people, of songs, of dances, of fighting, of shouting and hurting. I saw joy, and love, and pain and misery and hatred. I saw the stars, I saw the sun, I saw colours unseen before. I saw horrors, I saw destruction. I saw light and darkness, I saw a perfect balance, I saw a perfect mix. I saw a complete world.

When lucidity reached me again, I opened my eyes, and saw the world empty.

An Earth without humanity, would be the emptiest place in the Universe.

But I didn’t want such a beautiful place to become empty. That’s why I wandered. Even as the coldness took over my body, and my eyelids grew weary, and my breath became feeble. And hunger clawed at my stomach. Even as the weeks passed, and countless storms battered my body and wore me down.

Until I could take no more steps, until I had no life remaining in me, until I was ready to pass, I wandered the terrain, for humanity.

For as long as I lived, I knew that the Earth had five continents and five oceans. I knew the Earth had Seven Seas. I knew the Earth had three climatic zones of Tropical, Temperate and Tundra. I knew that the Earth was the third planet in the solar system. I knew that the closest planet to Earth was Venus. I knew that the Earth took three hundred and sixty-five days to orbit the sun. And that every four years would add up to one extra day, with a leap year of three hundred and sixty-six days. I knew that each day was twenty-four hours.

I knew that humans had set foot on the moon, I knew that humans had sent probes to Mars and Venus. I knew that humans had sent probes beyond the solar system. I knew that humans had mapped certain parts of the milky way. I knew that humans had different theories about the origins of life on Earth.

I knew that humans were great artists, great inventors, and great thinkers. I knew that some humans had the ability to imagine visuals and put them onto a blank canvas as a painting. I knew that some humans could spin amazing tales. I knew that some humans could craft amazing objects and sculptures out of plain materials. I knew that some humans could make complex devices both life-saving and destructive. I knew that some humans could hum a tune and turn it into a beautiful melody.

I knew that humans loved each other and hated each other. The love between a man and a woman, the love between parents and their children. The love between siblings, the love between friends, the love between humans and animals, the love between humans and nature. I knew that some humans, hated and killed. Some humans deceived and corrupted. It was all a perfect mix, it was all a perfect balance.

And I had learned that removing Humans from Earth did affect the nature. Animals and trees would thrive on their own. Storms and Hurricanes would circulate the atmosphere. Earth would not be infested with man-made nuclear disasters, pollution, wars and famines. Everything on Earth would be peaceful.

But then, everything would lose meaning.

Humanity, from the beginning, saw life as something more than just survival.

Humanity, from the beginning, wanted to learn, to love and to live.

From the beginning, Humanity assigned meaning to everything, gave reasons for everything. These were fantastical and mythical at first, with gods and deities and demons. Revering, and appreciating these beings was Humanity’s way of realizing the beauty and value of existence.

As times changed, Humanity became more theoretical, more scientific and calculated. Humanity created inventions that altered the way of life, they made their own cities, their own habitats. They used the resources provided by Earth and made something new for themselves, for the better and the worse.

The Earth would continue to rotate and revolve, for eons on end. Humanity added meaning to it. Every year brought new goals and achievements, every day brought new experiences, every moment they learned something new.

And even if every other human being was gone, as long as one was still alive – I had thought there would still be meaning. I had thought that as long as I lived, I would hold up the legacy of humanity.

I had thought maybe, just maybe, if I waited, humanity would be restored.

But the Earth, like my own body, was truly empty now. - Written by Benjinara (20/12/2023)

[frndly-nbh-enbee]

On Speaking My Truth (Whatever The Fuck That Means?)

The Kind of Manifesto of a Demigirl

Sometime after midnight at a house-party I found myself tipsy in a tree-house with my friends. Naturally, we did what any slightly intoxicated, red-blooded 20-somethings would do when left alone late at night in a secluded location; discuss gender. “My gender is kind of like whatever was happening in Under the Skin but like, less fucked up, if that makes sense,” I said. Apparently it did. Either that or my companions in the tree house were too intoxicated or too polite to point out the obvious incoherence of my utterance. 

This was no isolated incident. Often I find myself attempting to articulate my experience of gender through equally elusive expressions.

“I am a girl but in a camp way.”

“I am a girl but like, ironically?”

“I am a girl in the same way Pepsi is Coke.”

“I’m not a girl, I’m just a girl shaped thing.”

“I am what happens when you order ‘woman’ from Spirit Halloween.”

“Being a demigirl is kind of like how sharkboy is at once both shark and boy but can’t be described as boy or shark alone.”

“You know how Loki is a god and transcends the human limits of gender but like sometimes just takes on the form of a milkmaid or something and for all intent and purpose for that period of time they just are a milkmaid but on a much deeper more fundamental level they remain removed from these quaint notions of gender? Yeah, well that’s what my gender feels like.”

Why do I fall back on flowery metaphors, obtuse analogies and comedic comparisons? Why do I gesture desperately at some existential state, unable to point with precision at something exact and apparent? Why can I not speak plainly? Why can I not make my meaning clear? 

Have you heard the myth of the veiled statue of Isis? It’s been reimagined by poetic types more than once or twice and whilst it has been retold many times over, in many different ways, the broad strokes are always similar enough. In Sais, a statue of the Goddess Isis is concealed by a veil. “I am all that has been, and is, and shall be; and my veil no mortal has hitherto raised,” reads its inscription. Sometimes, however, a hubristic young man animated by intrigue does indeed succeed in lifting the veil. Yet, happiness rarely comes from seeing the truth of the statue so plainly - so directly. Without the veil’s mediation, the young man is driven to madness having gazed upon that which no mortal is made to comprehend, or is overcome with depression, because where is the beauty and allure of life without mystery? 

There is much philosophising that can be done with this story and the richness of its allegorical potential cannot be overstated. Still, there is one question that recently I have kept returning to with each retelling. What if the veil is not hiding anything? What if truth, reality, meaning - or whatever other slightly pretentious and very philosophically loaded noun you wish to employ - exists within the veil, not beyond it?

Let me explain. Some people like to look at poetry, allegory and metaphor as follows: these literary flourishes and flights of fancy obscure meaning - they are pretty but imprecise ways of warping what you are really trying to say. They are veils over the statue of Isis. Maybe they are beautiful veils, soft and silky and made of luminous fabric but they are veils nonetheless and it is what is behind them that really counts. Behind the veil is what you actually mean to say, “Truth” with a capital “T”. So when faced with poetry, allegory and metaphor we try to peek behind the poetry, the allegory, the metaphor. Desperately, we seek for what lay beyond all this mere aesthetic fetishism. We read poetry and try to strip it of the poetic, to figuratively unveil the statue. But, what if there is no statue? What if all we get is the veil? What if the veil conceals nothing, but is revealing to us everything - only we are too arrogant, overzealous, unobservant or distracted to see it? What if my vague, my imprecise, my periphrastic, my emotive, my evocative, my ambiguous, my flowery, my fluid expressions are not opaque and improper articulations that have some more definitive, more tangible truth beneath them? What if I was never speaking unclearly? 

Here’s the thing, gender is weird as fuck. It’s messy and multifaceted and experiences of gender are nuanced and idiosyncratic and diverse. I have devoted countless hours to reading paper upon paper on gender as identity, gender as social class, gender as concept, gender as social kind, gender as a conferred property, gender as something socially constructed, gender as internal experience of oneself, gender as real, gender as fake, gender as real in some ways but fake in others, gender as fake in real ways but real in fake ways and whilst maybe I now may be better equipped to construct some well-defined and precise, overarching theory of GenderTM that will be useful in an ameliorative analysis, on a more personal level my experience of my own gender has failed to grow less vague. This is not to say I am confused about my gender. In fact, right now I feel as comfortable in my gender as I have ever been. Rather, I am trying to say that there is nothing I can do to make my experience of gender not nebulous. It will never be neat or simple or clean and so, the only language I have to talk about my gender authentically is language that allows for multiplicity and ambiguity and, above all else, feelings and the phenomenal. When my task is to communicate the unclear, would my message not be less clear if I conveyed it with words that are clinical and precise? Would that not be dishonest in its simplicity? Misleading in its neatness? Near negligent in its reductiveness? I want to find words that are rich with emotions and implications and connotations and hope that I can arrange them in such a way that I can evoke the feeling of certain states of embodiment, of existence, of experience as opposed to culling my utterances of any actual meaning, leaving them sterile and dead because I decided to lie to myself and pretend these are things that can be spoken of plainly. I want to speak about my gender more poetically, not less. 

I feel it is those of us who identify with labels that linger in the liminal - the labels that pull on the loose threads of the assumed coupling of assigned sex and gender identity - that are derrided for the inability to offer satisfactory articulations of our own identities, as if this is an easy task, as if the language we have at our disposal was made with us in mind. I wonder if those who scoff at our poetry, our allegories, our metaphors have wondered if we find it so hard to find the right words because we are the ones most attuned to the ways gender is embodied. We have been paying painful attention to every detail of its experience, and so, do not know how to speak about it without leaving something out, or getting something lost in translation because we have become intimately acquainted with all its aspects. Or rather, we have become intimately acquainted enough to know that we will never truly know all its aspects. When it comes to my own gender, perhaps I am at my most Socratic. 

This is all also to say nothing of the struggle of trying to articulate queer experiences in a straight tongue. Indeed, the language I have at my disposal is in no small way shaped by cisnormativity. What do I do when I am dislocated from my own mother tongue? Do I reimagine the meanings of words? But then I run the risk of people lamenting I am appropriating that which ought to be left alone, stealing something that is not mine to take - I am destabilising something sacred and that is scary. So then, do I invent new words? Sure, but I will be scorned for my invention. Maybe I will be told I am fabricating something out of thin air, not giving shape to something that has always existed. Maybe I will be told that we have gotten on perfectly fine thus far without my new fangled vocabulary and therefore I am being unduly difficult. I will wonder who this mystical “we” who has gotten along perfectly fine is, and if they are aware they are not the only “we” in existence. In the face of this insufficiency, I choose artistry. I choose to use language playfully, comically, creatively and beautifully because my experience of gender is playful, comical, creative and beautiful. If my rhetoric is condemned to always be imperfect, then at the very least let it be alive. 

So then, let’s have it. Let me try my hand at speaking my truth, whatever the fuck that means. 

I was a girl - I think? I think I was a girl for a long time, though I’m not sure. I am sure I’m not anymore though. 

I don’t know what happened. I grew up, maybe. I learnt more about myself and the world. I cultivated a capacity to see the ways in which external social systems had become internalised and started to feel the outside world creeping into my body, crawling under my skin. I stomached the fact my body had always been acting as a host to alien parasites and felt that I had settled where I was, that I had found a way to make “woman” a workably homey space to occupy. I sighed, “it would do, I suppose”. I accepted the title of “woman” as if I was an item of clothing I had found in an opt shop and, with a shrug, resigned myself to purchasing in spite of its imperfect fit because it was cheap and there and one must temper their expectations when shopping second hand. 

Little by little, the life inside and outside of my head became fuller, more colourful. I saw beauty I didn’t have the words to speak about because no one had told me that such beauty existed, let alone was permissible. The epicurean in me itched. I scratched at my skin. I didn’t know how to let myself be happy. Self-determination and sin seemed synonymous. The curse of being in the closest is sometimes you don’t even let yourself see you are trapped within one, instead you shrink down all life’s possibilities to what can fit in that finite, dark space and pretend that, that absence of existence contains the entirety of the universe’s potential. But I learnt to ask better questions of myself from the armchair and I learnt how to leave it. I looked at my reflection taking backwards steps. Almost absent mindedly, mostly accidentally, I started to pick at the knots entangling the interwoven strands of my selfhood until I felt them come loose and realised I could reweave them as I pleased. 

The more I reflected on my womanhood, the more I felt dislocated from it. It was as if the clearer I could see it, the more it became an object of study, something outside of myself to be looked at and examined, prodded at and played with, as opposed to a necessary part of my subject. It was as if the ability to see it severed it from me in some important sense, that speculation and observation necessarily involved division or dislocation. An umbilical cord was cut. I had grown out of something, I don’t know exactly what. I only know that Eden cannot be reentered. I only know that one cannot step into the same river twice. I only know that if I believed in souls I would say mine was not that of a woman, but rather that it was quite beyond gender. I would want to say that my soul exists in a space where the language of gender cannot stick.

But I was not disengaged from my femininity, only distanced from it - apart from it whilst still partaking in it, but partaking in it consciously, creatively, constructively. My femininity at once felt more and less authentic. Less authentic because there was nothing organic about it, it was not flowing out of me unthinkingly. I watched myself. More authentic though because I had an agency I did not have before. My gender expression was not simply something instinctual or absorbed from the world around me. My gender expression was not mindless. It had become artful. Each morning I opened up my makeup bag and painted my face like a portrait. I was an artwork and artist, and more than anything I wanted that to be known and I fashioned myself in such a way to make the artifice apparent. Now, I am never womanly without a wink or masculine without a smirk. And no, I do not want to discuss dysphoria - only the euphoria that comes with defying classification. 

My dress is drag. I strive for cartoonish caricature. On the days I decide to adorn myself in that which is deemed girly, I do it with the intention of bending the category of “Girl” until it breaks. I want to be so outlandishly femme that I cease to be feminine. I want to exist in the uncanny valley of the dolls, to be something girl adjacent - a woman only if you are squinting. I want it all to be theatrical, overblown and played for the people in the back row. I am not so much a girl as I am a thespian. I want to be camp, to commit to artifice with the most earnest sincerity. I have learnt to adorn myself in the finery of a dollybird and adore all the aspects of girlhood that are deemed the most tacky, the most trite, the most trivial, the most cheap, the most silly and insignificant. And sometimes, I am not girlish at all. 

Anxiously, I set the imposter syndrome aside and let myself ask to be called “they,” and I take on “they” as if it is a family name because “they” is decidedly queer - and I know I come from queerness and belonged to queerness. I am only at home with the outsiders. See me as the sexually deviant gender trash I am and leave me or love me in all my perversion because assimilation is a suffocation I will not suffer. The queer are my kin, my kin is the queer. I want to be identified with my gens. Ascribe me to the correct clan and do not call me a girl, it makes my skin itch and sometimes, a strange dissonance arises, and I giggle to myself as if I have gotten away with a trick I never intended to pull. My gender is queer, I cannot tell it to you straight but I have made myself clear.