#it would be so enriching to apply himself in such a way

[mllllonsknlves]

SEEDS of growth.

[wielderofmysteries]

Self-Made Man: Jace Beleren and Representation for Transgender Men in MTG

INTRO:

A few days before I started writing this, I received a message on Tumblr asking me to talk about my personal interpretation of Jace Beleren as a trans man. Not an unusual request, since Jace Beleren is my favorite character and I mention that I think he's trans all the time. I thought my response would be easy to write, but I started typing and couldn't stop. I realized I couldn't keep it short and simple. My thoughts grew into something much bigger, and much more meaningful to me. (Word count: ~9260)

In this post, I'll explore my analysis of Jace Beleren as a transgender man, why I think it enriches Jace as a character, and how it relates to the topic of transgender representation in Magic.

Disclaimer 1: As far as I know, WOTC and the authors who wrote Jace's lore did not originally set out with the intention of portraying a transgender character in Jace. Everything I'm presenting as evidence that Jace is trans is just part of my analysis. The purpose of this post is not to prove that Jace was always intended to be trans, but to show how my personal interpretation of Jace as a trans man is inspired by and supported by the text.

Disclaimer 2: All transgender people are different and have unique lives and feelings and experiences, so the things I say in this post won't apply to every single trans person. The examples I give here are mainly based on my own experience, as well as those of other trans men I know personally.

(General content warning for discussions of bullying and transphobia.)

PART 1: ORIGINS

There's an inherent transness about Jace Beleren.

Insecurity is one of Jace's most visible and defining traits. From Origins to Ixalan, his long-term character arc is all about his struggle to let go of his insecurities in order to become a better version of himself. There are parallels to the experiences of transgender men in the way those insecurities came about, how he expresses them, and how he eventually overcomes them.

It's easy to see why Jace would be insecure. As a telepath, he can hear all the negative thoughts other people have about him.

=========

Sure enough, there was his father, sitting at the kitchen table, frowning. Gav Beleren, grubby and balding, regarded Jace with little more than weariness.

I wish he was normal.

His father’s thoughts traced a familiar path.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

=========

Lack-witted idiot.

A big lug shoved past him from behind.

Jace couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

I swear, that Beleren kid…

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

=========

There’s the freak.

The biting thought was the only warning Jace got.

He scrambled to his feet and spun, but he was too late. Three of his schoolmates stood between him and the access hatch.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

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Jace's own father, despite caring for his son and wanting a better life for him, felt little warmth for him. He wished Jace were "normal" and often became frustrated with him. Jace was a victim of brutal bullying that started in early childhood and continued all through his school years. Even complete strangers disliked Jace, and they made it known.

It was difficult for Jace to tell which thoughts were or weren't his own. Jace's constant awareness of others disliking him caused him to internalize that negativity, and as a result, he developed a sense of insecurity at an early age.

Jace's insecurity manifests as self-hatred, feelings of inadequacy, and discomfort in his body and physical appearance. I think his insecurities manifested in these specific ways because one of his most significant personal struggles was gender dysphoria. In an R&D video about Jace's story in Origins, Kelly Digges spoke about Jace's insecurity, and unintentionally gave the most transgender-sounding response possible.

=========

"Not everybody likes Jace. They see the arrogant self-assured kid wearing the hoodie, and something about that doesn't sit well with them. But I think you've got to have sympathy for the guy. I mean, imagine being a teenager with all the awkwardness that comes with that, and actually knowing that the person behind you thinks your hair looks stupid! You'd put on a hood too!"

[Kelly Digges - Magic: The Gathering - Inside R&D Magic Origins: Jace]

=========

The thing is, I don't have to imagine that situation. That was literally my lived experience as a trans teenager.

I had known I was trans since I was very little, but I didn't decide to start living life as an openly transgender boy until I was 13 years old– right before I started high school. The day before my freshman orientation, my mom took me to a hair salon and I asked the stylist to give me a typical boy's haircut. My hair was waist-length, and the stylist was shocked that a 'girl' could ask her to cut off that much hair. She was scared to ruin my appearance by making me "look like a boy" (even though that's exactly what I wanted.)

My freshman photo was the ugliest school picture I've ever taken. My friends jokingly called me 'Gohan' (from Dragon Ball Z). I started wearing jackets with my hood up, even though I never liked to before, and I wore hats despite it being against the school dress code. I knew other people thought my hair looked stupid, and I knew this without having telepathic abilities like Jace.

But my troubles didn't start with that haircut. Long before I started openly living as a boy, I was told I was a 'tomboy' and that I didn't act like other little girls did. Even in early childhood, I was very aware of the fact that some people hated me for who I was and how I expressed myself. I was just like Jace in that way– knowing who was judging me; knowing they didn't respect me; and knowing that in their eyes I was ugly, a weirdo, or worse.

I had always known I was different, and Jace had always known he was different, too. But it's not for the reason you would think. People mistreated Jace long before anyone knew or even began to suspect his true nature as a telepath. Nobody knew Jace was a mage, but everyone knew something was weird about him. There was something outwardly unusual about Jace that people noticed and thought was strange and undesirable.

Something interesting I noticed while re-reading Jace's origin story is that he appears to be wearing girls' clothing in the art. He and the girl, Jill, are both wearing the same long tunic / dress and shawl; while the two other boys are wearing vests and tucked-in shirts.

I know that wasn't necessarily the intention with this art, but it got me thinking about other aspects of Jace's origin story that just felt trans to me.

Interestingly, nobody in Jace's origin story actually calls him "Jace" except for his mother, the only person who truly loved and accepted him for who he was; and Alhammarret, another telepath and therefore the only person who could see Jace the way Jace saw himself. Everyone else refers to him as "Beleren" or "that Beleren kid" or "freak". His own dad doesn't call him anything at all.

It reminded me of the way my family never got into the habit of calling me my chosen name, even after I came out. They would call me my childhood nickname, "BooBoo", to avoid saying my chosen name or my birth name. To them, I was boyish enough it was weird to call me a girl's name, but not loved or respected enough to be called what I wanted.

Being a trans teenager is hard. It's hard to control your style when you're dependent on your parents to buy clothing. It's hard to control your identity when other people constantly call you the wrong name. And it's pretty much impossible to control your body.

Puberty is a source of insecurity for all teenagers, but it's the ultimate hell for trans teenagers. When the effects of hormones become visible and you see how your body has changed compared to your peers, the difference can be emotionally devastating.

While puberty made me wider and heavier; my male friends, who were going through the other puberty, got taller and more muscular. They got bigger and stronger every year while I was doomed to stay 5'0 (152cm) forever. It felt like I could never catch up– they looked the way I wanted to without even trying. Sure, I could pass for a boy, but they were going to grow up to be men. It infuriated me.

Similarly, Jace's lack of stereotypically masculine physical characteristics was a major source of self-hatred.

=========

“Hey, Beleren,” said the largest of the three, his booming voice overpowering the wind. His name was Tuck. At fourteen, he was a year older than Jace, a head taller, and built like a loading dock.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

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How small he looked, hanging desperately above the crackling stream of mana. How vulnerable he looked. He hated it.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

=========

Jace's male peers are described as being significantly taller and more muscular than him. This difference in size and strength made it easy for other boys to bully and physically abuse Jace, which caused him to associate their masculinity with the power they held over him. In Jace's mind, being a victim meant he was weak, and being weak meant he was less of a man. Hating yourself for things you can't control is extraordinarily painful.

When Jace discovered his true nature as a telepath, he realized it was the one way he held power over others. He tried to feel tougher and more masculine by emulating the way his bullies demonstrated their power over him– through intimidation, cruelty, and threats of violence.

=========

He looked Tuck in the eyes. “And if you harm my family, I’ll take your mind apart, one squalid little memory at a time.”

Tuck flinched.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

=========

Having grown up without any positive male role models in his life, Jace's idea of masculinity was primarily influenced by the mistreatment he endured. He simply imitated what he saw and he didn't have the emotional support or life experience needed to grow out of that mindset.

As a young trans man reading Jace's origin story, I found the way he resented his bullies and retaliated against them to be very relatable. It's scary how easily gender dysphoria can turn into toxic masculinity. When you need to try a million times harder than your cisgender peers to be acknowledged as a man, taking masculinity to a harmful extreme can seem like the logical thing to do, especially if you're a younger trans man.

Despite expressing myself exactly the same as any other little boy would (wearing the same clothes, liking the same cartoons, playing the same sports), I was bullied by both kids and adults for daring to think I could be a boy. Once, when I was 8 years old, I stepped up to bat for my Little League baseball team. When the announcer said my feminine name and everyone noticed the long hair sticking out from underneath my helmet, the opposing team's volunteer coaches (the fathers of kids my age!) shouted from their dugout: "There's no way they'll win! They have a girl on their team!" Their players laughed and cheered in response.

That absolutely broke me. Their words taught me that being myself wasn't enough. And if being the same as other boys wasn't enough, then I needed to be more than them. I intentionally became a bully. Picking every fight I could was my way of proving I was more masculine than people thought.

Intentional toxic masculinity in pursuit of gender-affirmation is a very common experience for young trans men. Jace and my younger self acted the way we did because we were trying to mask our insecurity. We wanted to kill the weakness we saw in ourselves, so we lashed out in an attempt to feel stronger than the people who hurt us.

Starting middle school let me get away from most of the people who bullied me. It was the fresh start I needed to stop being such a terror. But a clean slate wouldn't prove to be so helpful for young Jace.

PART 2: PLANESWALKER

At age 15, Jace's Planeswalker spark ignited. He arrived on Ravnica with no memories of his life on Vryn. 

In theory, Jace's amnesia would have allowed him to start becoming the person he wanted to be, but he couldn't begin to heal because the scars on his subconscious mind were immediately opened. Being lost and alone made Jace feel vulnerable– the feeling he hated most.

=========

Came out of nowhere. Some poor Izzet experimental subject, probably.

He scrambled to his feet. People were staring at him. He looked as bad as he felt, sweaty and pale and filthy. He pulled his scarf up around his face and dashed to the side of the road.

I’m not an experimental subject. I’m…I’m…

I’m in trouble.

Fine. Table that.

He walked as fast as he could without seeming to hurry. He reached out, carefully, into the minds around him. It was a cacophony, a mad tangle of voices, and half of them weren’t even human.

Vagrant. Thief. Poor kid. Wretch.

His headache was getting worse.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

=========

On Ravnica, Jace had no idea where he was or who he was, and he was suddenly surrounded by more people than he'd ever been near before. After losing the ability to control his telepathy, he was overwhelmed with their thoughts. He didn't know any of the people around him, but he knew they thought he was strange and pitiful.

When Jace noticed people staring at him, he hid his face with his scarf and ran away from them. Jace's first instinctual concern was not that he was possibly in danger, but that people were perceiving him in a way that made him feel embarrassed about himself. Even without memories of being bullied, a part of Jace's mind was still constantly worried about his appearance.

Jace's anxiety in public reminded me of the extreme paranoia I suffered from as a trans teenager. Being seen and perceived was so unbearable to me that I went to extremes to avoid people. I'd stay home or hide whenever possible, and sometimes I became so anxious I would literally run away if I noticed someone looking at me. I've gotten a lot better in the past few years, but I still worry when I'm out in public. I often notice strangers staring at me, and I hate knowing when people are questioning my gender. In certain situations, I'm even worried that someone might hurt me if they notice I'm trans. When you're trans and you've been bullied, just being perceived is dangerous.

That initial experience on Ravnica did instant damage to his self esteem. Jace's discomfort in his body and physical appearance was such a pressing issue that he immediately sought gender-affirming body modifications.

=========

The Jace in front of her was pathetically young.

[...]

The teenage Jace seated in the chair had the look about him of someone who wanted to disappear and wish someone more imposing into his place. His outfit was disheveled, the cut of it unfamiliar. Vraska sensed in the fabric of the memory that this version of Jace had arrived in Ravnica for the first time only days before.

The Gruul shaman's hand was glowing brilliant white. "This your first?" he grunted.

It took Jace a moment too long to answer. "Yes," he said timidly.

Vraska couldn't help but smile at this memory. He was the wimpiest teenager she had ever seen—no wonder he wanted a cool tattoo.

[...]

The shaman leaned over the teenager and drew a line with his finger down Jace's cheek, leaving a brilliant white tattoo in its place. He continued on his chin and arm, and Vraska watched as the shaman diligently painted a braver face on the nervous teenager's own.

[The Flood - Alison Luhrs]

=========

Tattoos probably aren't the first thing that comes to mind when you think of gender-affirming body modifications, but that was the purpose they served for Jace. Getting tattoos made him feel braver and more grown up, and they made him look cooler and more intimidating to others. All of these were stereotypically masculine traits he desired in the way he presented himself.

In addition to the way they changed him outwardly, Jace's tattoos were a personal declaration of his identity. His tattoos were drawn from one of the few things he could remember after arriving on Ravnica: a set of mysterious shapes and symbols. He didn't know what meaning they held, if any at all, but he decided that they were important to him because they were his.The decision to have them permanently inked on his skin gave him a sense of control and ownership over his body and appearance, which is one of the most important aspects of forming an identity as a trans person.

In his young adult years on Ravnica, Jace made a living as a criminal extorting the rich and famous. For the first time in his life, he could afford to choose his own wardrobe instead of depending on a guardian to provide clothes for him. Jace used this opportunity to exercise more control over his appearance, having clothing designed and tailored specifically to his desires.

The patterns Jace had tattooed on his body would be incorporated into his signature blue cloak. Jace's cloak is the most iconic element of his visual design, and it's important to this interpretation of his character because it's his dysphoria hoodie.

A dysphoria hoodie is a hooded clothing item intended to relieve gender dysphoria by obscuring the shape of a person's body. They're oversized, loose, and usually black or another dark color. Wearing a dysphoria hoodie hides a person's body from others' judging eyes, and allows them to forget about the parts of their body that they don't like.

It's undeniable that Jace's cloak fits this description perfectly.

Jace was extremely attached to his blue cloak. It didn't matter how hot the weather was, or how dirty or damaged his cloak had gotten– he always wore it anyway. And judging by the fact that he canonically had numerous duplicates made, he didn't want to ever stop wearing it. The ability to look and feel mysterious was very comforting to him.

Jace tried to hide his insecurities for as long as he could, but as he grew into adulthood, his problems would grow and change with him.

The novel Agents of Artifice follows Jace's life on Ravnica from ages 19 to 22. Growing up meant the gender role Jace desired to fill evolved from 'boy' to 'man', but Jace had no positive male role models or examples in this formative time.

As Jace's employer and teacher, Tezzeret forced him to use his powers for violence by psychologically abusing him. Tezzeret had an explosive temper and brutally tortured Jace when he failed assignments or hesitated to comply.

Jace's best friend / partner, Kallist Rhoka, showed a sense of entitlement after the two met Liliana Vess. Kallist felt like Liliana owed him attention and sex, despite the fact that she wasn't interested in him because she was already dating Jace.

=========

“You’re a hypocrite, Jace. It’s fine. My own fault, really. I should’ve known better than to take you at your word, when it came to getting something you wanted—the one thing I might’ve found to make this damned place a little better!”

“She was never yours!” Jace shot to his feet, fists clenched. “Never!”

“Because you wouldn’t give us the chance!” Kallist shot back. “It’s not enough that you took away everything I had?”

“Took away … Damn it, Kallist, I saved your life!”

[Agents of Artifice - Ari Marmell]

=========

Kallist wasn't the only man who felt this way. Throughout the book, several complete strangers made it clear that they thought Jace was inferior and undeserving of Liliana's affection, and that Liliana should be with them instead. Other men openly insulted Jace because they didn't see him as a "real man".

=========

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he slurred in a voice heavy with beer, “that you finally sent your scrawny friend packing. That mean you interested in spending some time with a real man?”

[Agents of Artifice - Ari Marmell]

=========

At that point in his life, Jace was still surrounded by men who had very toxic expressions of masculinity, but unlike his teenage self, he had no desire to imitate them. Jace feared and resisted Tezzeret's violent teachings, he disapproved of Kallist's misogyny towards Liliana, and he avoided confrontation with the random strangers who threatened him.

I think Jace's distaste for their attitudes and behaviors shows that his insecurity is truly gender dysphoria and not just toxic masculinity. If Jace disapproved of their toxic masculinity and didn't want to express himself that way, why would he care if he wasn't a "real man" to them? Why did he still feel incomplete as a man? What does being a man mean to Jace Beleren?

Jace wanted to do all the things typically expected of adult men. He wanted to be self-reliant, to be a protector and leader to others. He made himself a protector and financial provider to his romantic partners. He wanted to protect Ravnica and accepted his duty as the Living Guildpact when the role was magically forced upon him. He worked with the Gatewatch to defend other planes and invited them to live in his home. Despite all his efforts, nobody seemed to see that Jace was trying his best.

One of the most common difficulties trans men experience is being infantilized because they're perceived as younger. Trans men often look younger than their cisgender male peers of the same age due to the difference in hormones. Less testosterone means trans men tend to be shorter, less muscular, and have less body hair (not accounting for individual genetic factors).

When trans men lack stereotypically masculine physical characteristics, especially those associated with age and maturity, such as facial hair, they don't get treated with the same respect as other men. (For example, adult trans men are often referred to as 'boys' no matter how old they actually are.)

When Jace's appearance is described in stories, his lack of stereotypically masculine physical characteristics is always noted. He's always described as being smaller and less muscular than other men, and it's repeatedly remarked upon that he's unable to grow a beard.

=========

Rulan was clad much like Jace himself, though he preferred deep reds and purples to Jace’s unrelenting blue and black. And unlike Jace, Rulan boasted a full, tidily trimmed beard.

[Agents of Artifice - Ari Marmell]

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She cast a critical eye up and down his form. Firm, fit, alert, hair combed. She mentally called bull on it. "You can drop the glamour, dear. No one cares."

He sighed, and shimmered as his illusion dropped. There was the real Jace; paler, hair rumpled, eyes sunken from late nights, and his chin tinted by the adorable peach fuzz that almost counted as a someday-maybe beard.

[Homesick - Chris L'Etoile]

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The text shows that Jace experienced infantilization as a trans man. His sparse facial hair is enough to visibly darken his face, but it's referred to as "adorable peach fuzz" rather than a more mature-sounding alternative. In the story Catching Up, Liliana tells Jace that him looking older is "an unambiguous compliment."

=========

"You look older," she said.

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"At your age, dear, it's an unambiguous compliment." She cocked her head. "Have you started combing your hair?"

He smoothed his hair self-consciously, just for a moment, then withdrew his hand. He had, in fact, started combing it. Not that his hair was any of her business. He scowled.

[Catching Up - Kelly Digges]

=========

This aspect of Jace's trans experience caused him to be disrespected in several areas of his adult life. As an adult navigating dating and relationships, people saw him as unattractive and less desirable. As the Living Guildpact, people saw him as unqualified and irresponsible. As a member of the Gatewatch, people saw him as weak and incapable of leadership. Because he was infantilized as a trans man, he was perceived as inherently less masculine, less competent, and less mature. This negative perception reinforced his feelings of inadequacy.

For this reason, Jace was more self-conscious about his appearance as an adult than he'd ever been as a youth. In order for people to treat him with more respect, Jace found it necessary to hide his body with his cloak and to change his appearance with illusions. Jace felt the need to 'pass', and thought being himself was unsatisfactory, especially after he met Gideon.

Meeting Gideon was a major turning point in Jace's emotional development as a trans man.

Gideon was a great example of stereotypical but positive masculinity. He was self-reliant but not afraid to ask for help. He was a leader but tried to uplift others. He fought as a defender, not an aggressor.

Jace saw Gideon as an upstanding person and a good friend. For the first time in his life, Jace had a positive male role model to look up to. It made him furious.

=========

"I'd rather stand," said Gideon.

Jace stood up. It was an error. He still had to crane his neck to look Gideon in the eye, and now the size difference between them was glaringly obvious. He hated feeling small. Hated it.

[Catching Up - Kelly Digges]

=========

Gideon made Jace feel hopelessly insecure about himself.

He was everything Jace wanted to be, and seemed to be perfect in all the ways Jace wasn't. Gideon was super tall while Jace was average height. Gideon was athletic and muscular while Jace was thin and out-of-shape. Gideon was charismatic and a natural leader while people tended to automatically distrust Jace.

Jace both admired and envied Gideon. He tried his best to emulate Gideon's positive qualities, but found it difficult because it was clear to himself and others that it didn't come naturally to him. Jace's presence just didn't inspire others or make them feel safe like Gideon's presence did.

=========

What would Gideon say?

Jace smiled. Of course.

"For Zendikar," he said, raising one fist in the air. It felt thin to him, lacking Gideon's armored fist, his baritone war cry, his iron conviction.

[Brink of Extinction - Kelly Digges]

=========

"Vanity?" she said. "That's not like you."

He raked a hand back through his hair, which did nothing to calm its random angles. "I should be at my best for team meetings. Project leadership. Confidence. The idea that I know what the hell I'm doing. And why am I telling you this?" He looked annoyed at himself.

She raised one ivory shoulder in a careless shrug. "Who else knows you well enough to understand?"

[Homesick - Chris L'Etoile]

=========

Seeing the differences between himself and Gideon aggravated his gender dysphoria and reinforced all the manifestations of his insecurity– self-hatred, feelings of inadequacy, and discomfort in his body and physical appearance.

In his time with the Gatewatch, Jace's vision of masculinity had changed to be much more positive, but he was still miserable because he kept measuring his self-worth against an ideal he couldn't seem to reach.

This stage in socially transitioning is emotionally difficult for trans people. It takes time and effort to overcome.

PART 3: CASTAWAY

At age 26, after the Gatewatch's defeat on Amonkhet, Jace involuntarily planeswalked to Ixalan. He awoke on a tropical island with no recollection of who he was or where he came from.

For the second time in his life, Jace had complete amnesia. Just like when he sparked at age 15, his insecurities lingered despite being unable to remember what caused them. He hallucinated illusions of people from his past life, and his subconscious mind projected his insecurities through them.

=========

"You've really done it this time, haven't you?"

This vision appeared whenever the man was struggling at a task.

His shoulders were broad, and his olive skin had a sheen of sweat underneath the shine of his armor. The hallucination was looking over the man's shoulder as he tried to carve a fishing hook.

"Listen, you aren't really suited to this task. Let me handle it." The vision's voice was gruff but friendly.

It came off as condescending.

The man was annoyed.

"I can do it myself."

The hallucination sighed. "You and I both know you're not suited to this. Let me handle it, you go philosophize on the other end of the beach."

"I said I can do it myself." The man let his irritation reach his voice.

"No, you can't. I call the shots and execute, you stand to the side. That's how this works."

The man responded by throwing his hook at the hallucination. It went straight through the figure's eye and landed behind him on the sand.

[Jace, Alone - Alison Luhrs]

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An illusion of Gideon represented Jace's frustration due to low confidence in his skills and abilities. No one ever seemed to think Jace was good enough. His intellect, social skills, and physical dexterity were all constantly questioned throughout his entire life. As a result, Jace never got the chance to prove to the people around him what he was truly capable of.

On Useless Island, Jace was utterly alone and could rely only on himself. Jace succeeded in teaching himself to hunt, fish, and build in order to survive. He was not inept at stereotypically masculine tasks, as people had believed him to be. Over time, he grew a thick beard and gained a significant amount of muscle mass.

=========

"You look terrible," purred a voice from above.

The man moved his hands. An illusion of a woman stood above him. She had raven hair, tired eyes, and a disdainful expression. Her arms were gloved in violet satin and crossed in front of her.

"The muscles are a nice change, but you look awful with facial hair." Her lips curled in a disdainful sneer.

The man shook his head, tears building in the corner of his eyes.

"I don't know who you are."

"Of course you don't, boy."

She looked him over. "You didn't know who I was then, and you don't now. Hard to build trust when neither of us trusts each other."

The man decided to stop caring that this illusion wasn't real. He desperately needed someone to talk to.

"Who was I, before here?"

"You weren't who you thought you were, that's for sure. No one else saw through you, but I did. You were never a leader or a detective or a scholar; you were a frightened child playing pretend."

The man swallowed a lump in his throat.

"You can fool the rest of the world with your magic and illusions, but you could never fool me."

The man wanted to sob. Wanted to go back and sleep. Wanted to starve until all of this went away.

[Jace, Alone - Alison Luhrs]

=========

An illusion of Liliana represented Jace's gender dysphoria and impostor syndrome.

Despite everything he had achieved so far on Useless Island, his subconscious mind still held feelings of self-doubt. Part of Jace's mind wondered whether or not he was ever truly suited to being a man, telling himself he "looks terrible" and "awful with facial hair". Again, Jace's maturity and experience are denied when the illusion infantilizes him by calling him a "boy" and "a frightened child playing pretend". This vision was an expression of Jace's fear that he was inherently unfit for masculinity and the roles he wanted to fill as a man.

Unlike the first time Jace had amnesia, though, there were no real people around to reinforce his insecurities. Being alone meant Jace had no one to compare himself to. This gave him the opportunity to truly have faith in himself. Rather than trying to copy someone else's example of masculinity, he was creating his own.

=========

The man opened his eyes, and saw a vision of himself standing on top of the water in front of him.

The image had a blank expression on its face, but was otherwise identical to the man himself, standing calmly—impossibly—on the surface of the water.

The man's jaw fell open in shock.

The illusion appeared solid as flesh, and its detail was astonishingly accurate. The man was amused he did not remember his name but remembered the exact details of his own body: muscles toned, stubble on its face, blistered sunburn on its bare shoulders. He even saw its scars—his scars—the little bookmarks of a life well-lived.

[Jace, Alone - Alison Luhrs]

=========

All the effort he had taken to change himself showed outwardly on his body, and it was very gender-affirming. He was happy to see his muscles and facial hair and sunburn. I don't know how else to say this, but Jace being proud of "his scars" just has super transgender connotations. When Jace saw his scars, he appreciated them as proof of his ability to change and adapt– proof of his survival.

One of the most meaningful and symbolic moments in Jace's story is his decision to leave Useless Island. He built a raft and sailed away, uncertain of his future but determined and unafraid. Among the items he packed for his journey was his old blue cloak, unaware of the meaning it previously held for him. Jace encountered a storm soon after leaving, and all the items he brought with him were lost or destroyed, including his cloak. But he wasn't upset. He didn't miss it. To the Jace of Useless Island, it was nothing more than a piece of fabric. The Jace of Useless Island was comfortable in his body, and had no need for a dysphoria hoodie to hide from himself or anyone else. By letting his cloak be destroyed, Jace let go of his insecurities.

Vraska found Jace washed up on a rocky island and accepted him into her pirate crew. Jace was eager to help, using his tinkering ability to fix telescopes and compasses. He also used his illusion magic to make The Belligerent invisible during a raid, and even fought vampires with the crew.

People need to have loved ones in their lives who make them feel accepted and respected. It's absolutely critical for a person's emotional health, and especially for trans people, whose close support networks are often insufficiently small or entirely absent. When you feel ashamed of yourself because you're constantly being criticized, when you live in fear of the world around you because you're hated, it's difficult even to simply exist. Having just one person who truly makes you feel safe makes a world of difference.

This is why it was so important that Vraska, the only person on Ixalan who knew Jace before his amnesia, didn't judge him based on his past. She didn't try to tell Jace who he used to be or who he should be. The crew of The Belligerent allowed Jace to be himself, and they cared about the qualities he had, not the ones he lacked. This key difference in how people treated Jace on Ixalan is what allowed him to thrive.

In The Flood, Jace fell down a waterfall and hit his head on a rock. The injury triggered a reversal of his amnesia. After Jace got his memories back, he reflected on the difference between his past and present selves.

=========

"I wouldn't have had the strength to climb this a year ago," Jace said with a little bit of pride. "Or if I did, I probably would have passed out halfway up."

"You weren't that out of shape when I last saw you," Vraska teased.

"You're ignoring how often I used to use illusions to make myself look like I was in shape."

Her brows shot up. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah," Jace acknowledged. His expression was unguarded, eyes still red from emotion, a lighthearted tilt to his lips. Unapologetically human. He grinned. "I used to be a coward."

He let Not anymore hang unspoken in the air between them, and Vraska caught his smile as he turned to ascend the golden staircase toward Orazca, one strong step after another.

[The Flood - Alison Luhrs]

=========

The old Jace was always being compared to others. That Jace hated himself because he could only see himself as an inferior version of other men. He wanted to hide because he felt like he would never be enough. He wanted to be anyone but Jace.

The new Jace unlearned that mindset. He realized the only 'right' way to be a man was to try to be the best Jace he could be. Having room to improve meant he had the opportunity to find joy in growing and changing. He was proud of himself for taking control of his identity and putting in all the effort necessary to transition. On Ixalan, Jace cultivated the strongest body he ever had. That new body made him braver and more confident than ever before. And that new confidence made him happier than he'd ever felt in his entire life.

The resolution of Jace's arc came from his transition. All his life, Jace had wanted people to understand and accept his true self. For people to see his true self, he needed to be able to show them. Jace was able to start healing from his trauma on Ixalan because for the first time in his life, he felt like it was safe and good to be himself, so he lost his fear of judgment and embarrassment. Through that acceptance, he learned to be himself, and to love himself, and to love his transness. On Ixalan, Jace finally became the man he wanted to be.

=========

Jace looked down at himself.

The tan was real. The scrapes, the newly callused hands, the muscles (the muscles!) were all his. Jace felt proud of his body for the first time in his life. He must not lose track of it now.

[Wool Over the Eyes - Alison Luhrs]

=========

PART 4: DEEP BLUE

Jace being a transgender man is not just a headcanon to me. It's a textual interpretation that I believe adds meaning to the story and enriches Jace as a character.

My interpretation of Jace as a trans man is rooted in the way his personal philosophy guides him as a Blue character.

Blue's central theme is "Perfection through knowledge." Blue sees the world and everything in it as a blank slate waiting to be transformed. With the right knowledge, all possibilities can become reality. Jace's expression of "Perfection through knowledge" is his journey to become a better person by understanding himself.

=========

Jace chose his words carefully.

"Existence is adaptation to changing circumstances. The self is an accumulation of what one has learned from those changing circumstances . . . Our agency gives us the means to alter our own path. You are who you decide to be. And who you will become depends only on how you choose to adapt."

[Something Else Entirely - Alison Luhrs]

=========

Jace's personal philosophy as a Blue character is "You are who you choose to be''. He believes that people are defined by the choices they make with their free will, and rejects the idea that the self has immutable qualities. To Jace, there is no pre-determined path or destiny for him to follow. Rather, he continually seeks to cultivate his own identity through change. 

In my interpretation of Jace as a trans man, Jace holds these beliefs because they're lessons he's had to learn in order to overcome his struggles and accept himself.

As a Blue character, Jace's core struggle is his desire to understand himself. Jace's life has been a constant quest to figure out who he is. Above all, Jace's thirst for knowledge is a need to understand his potential and his place in the Multiverse.

=========

Jace.

My name is Jace Beleren.

So there was something in there, waiting for him to dig it out.

And who is Jace Beleren? Is he a good man? Is he kind?

He willed away the shape and sat, alone, farther from home than he’d even known was possible.

He’d have to wait and see.

[Jace's Origin: Absent Minds - Kelly Digges]

=========

Having lost so much of his life to amnesia, Jace has often been unsure of who he is or who he should be.

I've always seen the divide in Jace's life caused by his amnesia as a parallel to the 'before' and 'after' periods in my life as a trans person.

When I decided to start openly living as a trans boy in high school, it was like I was being haunted by my own ghost. I didn't know who I was or how to act anymore because everyone around me seemed to see and speak to a version of myself that no longer existed. But I hadn't died, I was just different. I wanted people to see that I was alive and well. I wanted to make myself feel real again.

Like Jace, I was a teenage boy with no past. I needed to rebuild myself, and I had to start from scratch. I wasn't sure what to do with myself, but the one thing I was sure of was that I couldn't look back. I didn't want to. And neither did Jace.

Jace is known for his love of investigation, puzzles, and research, but his past seems to be the one thing he's not curious about. While he does occasionally wonder what his life used to be like, he's never shown a desire to return to that past. He's never put any time or energy into re-discovering old memories or trying to restore some previous state.

When Jace asks himself, "Who am I?", he's not asking who he was before. He's asking who he can be. What matters to Jace is not who you were, but who you can become.

The past is unimportant to Jace, and this belief gives him strength. He expressed this on Ixalan when he vowed the illusions of his past would no longer bother him.

=========

"No more involuntary illusions!" he said, and something in the back of his mind rung with magical affirmation. It would not happen again.

He had control over his mind. He was the wielder of his talents.

[...]

Then a thought occurred to the man.

"Who I was doesn't matter . . . because I get to learn who I am now."

Saying it out loud made it feel real.

"Whoever I was is irrelevant, for I will become whoever I want to become."

He believed that with all his heart.

The man realized what he must do.

He was going to prove to himself that he deserved to live.

The man got to work.

[Jace, Alone - Alison Luhrs]

=========

Jace understood that in order to progress, he had to keep moving forward. Letting go of the past is what allowed Jace to live in the present and to have hope for his future.

This aspect of Jace's philosophy is also an important aspect of trans acceptance. Many trans people struggle with making the decision to transition because they fear it's too late. They may feel that way because of their age, because of their circumstances in life, or because other people will remember them differently. But Jace believes that the person you were yesterday doesn't have to be the person you are today, or will be tomorrow. When you understand this, you understand that it is never too late for anyone to change.

It's in our nature as thinking, feeling beings to want to explore and discover new things about ourselves, but transphobes want us to repress our curiosity. My whole life, I've had to fight back against people who disrespect my identity and want me to submit to their idea of who I should be. Jace shares this experience.

=========

Baan regarded him coolly. "You were bullied as a child."

Jace coughed on his first mouthful of food and struggled to swallow. "I, uh, don't remember my childhood." A dozen unvoiced thoughts flickered behind his eyes.

The Kaladeshi raised his brows. "One need not consciously recollect an event to fall into habitual behaviors determined by the experience. It is not inconceivable that one could forget their entire life. I would safely wager that were that the case, the subject would still tend to make similar lapses of judgement, and would be drawn to associate with the same sorts of people." He waved a hand, the swish of an ox's tail dismissing flies. "The nature of mortals is not so malleable as some would naively suppose. A person of religious inclination will always find something greater than themselves to place their faith in. A criminal will forever remain a criminal."

Jace put his fork down. "That's a very...deterministic point of view, Minister."

[Homesick - Chris L'Etoile]

=========

Dovin Baan expressed beliefs about identity and human nature similar to those of the transphobes I've dealt with. People like them think, "You were born a certain way and you will always be that way. You will never be anything else. No matter what you do, you can never truly change."

But Jace lives in defiance of that idea. Jace knows he's capable of change because he actively chose to become someone new. What he once was, he no longer is. Jace's disagreement with Dovin Baan isn't just a difference in opinion; it's a defense of his existence. When transphobes deny our identities, they deny our reality.

If Dovin believes our identities are set in stone, Jace believes we each hold a sculptor's tools. Whether or not you will change is your choice. But you alone have the power to make that choice, and no one can take that away from you.

=========

She sighed. "I don't know how the Golgari will see me when I return."

Jace shrugged. "You get to decide how they see you."

She looked at him with uncertainty. Jace continued. "How we engage with the world is dependent on how we present ourselves to it. We are continuously adjusting to change because if we fail to change, we fail to survive. By nature of you surviving the hell you did, you have changed into someone wiser than before. By nature of you commanding this ship, you've transformed yourself into the leader you always knew you could be.

"What makes you you isn't your circumstance or your past, but the choices you make in the future. Your ability to learn and adapt is what makes you who you are today, and that is what dictates who you will continue to become."

[Something Else Entirely - Alison Luhrs]

=========

Jace's focus on adaptation and self-improvement reminds me of the theory of gender euphoria; the idea that gender identity is defined by positive feelings and what feels right to a person, not negative feelings and what feels wrong (gender dysphoria). You can't be happy if you only focus on things that cause you discomfort and pain. You need to find things that give you comfort and bring joy to your life.

As a teenager, Jace hated himself for his weakness. He felt like being tough would make him more masculine. But when he grew up and gained more life experience and new role models, he realized that was no longer what he wanted. It may take some time to figure out what you want, and you may even find that what you want will change, but the end goal will always be to become the best version of you.

This process of trial-and-error is integral to Jace's philosophy.

We ourselves must constantly change in order to survive in an ever-changing world. Jace believes we are defined by the lessons we choose to absorb from these experiences. Every time you change, you have the opportunity to learn something new about yourself. You have the opportunity to see how you've become stronger and see what inspires you to live. That is adaptation. That is growth.

Even if you feel like you're not where you want to be yet, in Jace's eyes, you have already proven your identity just by choosing to walk that path. You can't just wish to love yourself. You have to choose to see yourself as someone worthy of love.

Jace wants us to see and appreciate ourselves for who we are and who we want to be, not what we aren't. You're a glass half full, not a glass half empty. Your potential is infinite, not wasted. If you learn to see yourself this way, it's easier to be a happier, more authentic self.

Jace's philosophy is what makes his character development a beautifully resonant trans story worthy of being true trans representation in my eyes.

=========

In that moment, Jace noticed a change within himself. The Jace of Zendikar and Innistrad and Ravnica had a nervous energy about him, persistently bored and disastrously introspective, constantly aware of the chasm of absent memory that was always on his mind's horizon. The Jace without a past was present, alert, comfortable no matter the circumstance and ready to face whatever might come his way. He remembered what it was like to be both, but recognized how much more natural it was to be the latter. In the span of a moment, Jace was surprised at himself, and then realized his earnestness of late, of Ixalan, was not manufactured, nor was his mindfulness something he could only access in a state of amnesia. That was who he had always been. He had just forgotten.

[Glimpse the Far Side of the Sun - Alison Luhrs]

=========

PART 5: REPRESENTATION FOR TRANS MEN IN MAGIC

If that all seems like an excessive amount of explaining for why I believe Jace is trans, that's because it is.

My interpretation of Jace as a trans man means so much to me because there is no actual representation for trans men in Magic. Which is, frankly, really wack.

In 2015, Magic's first ever transgender character, a trans woman named Alesha, was introduced in the beloved Khans of Tarkir story, "The Truth of Names."

In 2018, a nonbinary elf Legend named Hallar was printed in Dominaria.

In 2020, a nonbinary human Legend named Alharu was printed in Commander Legends.

The introduction of trans characters in Magic really ramped up in 2021. Kaldheim introduced an angel who uses Xe/Xer pronouns in the story Know Which Way the Wind Blows; as well as Niko Aris, Magic's first nonbinary Planeswalker. Strixhaven introduced Dean Nassari of Prismari College, a nonbinary efreet Legend. And Strixhaven: A Curriculum of Chaos, the set's accompanying Dungeons & Dragons book, introduced a nonbinary loxodon NPC named Bhedum 'Rampart' Soovij, and a human NPC named Nora Ann Wu, a transgender girl who counsels other transgender students at Strixhaven. The Innistrad: Midnight Hunt story His Eyes, All of Them featured an elderly transgender woman named Malynn.

Early 2022 saw the printing of another nonbinary character, an elf chef named Rocco, in Streets of New Capenna. And a nonbinary soldier named Myrel was printed in The Brothers' War.

Seven years after the introduction of Alesha, Magic acknowledged that trans men exist for the first time ever in May 2022, when the 'Pride Across the Multiverse' Secret Lair Drop was announced, just a few days after I began writing this article. 

This Secret Lair Drop had eight cards featuring art, all by LGBTQ+ artists, that showcase the strength of the LGBTQ+ community in the Magic Multiverse. This celebration of diversity was beautiful, heartwarming, and inspiring in its entirety. Notably, it also featured two trans men in its art. In the new art for "Bearscape'', one of the men is depicted with scars from top surgery (gender-affirming surgery to flatten his chest). And in the new art for "Alesha, Who Smiles at Death", Alesha reaches out to support a young transgender man wearing a chest binder.

As a transgender man myself, I'd been waiting forever to see representation for trans men in Magic. I was happy… and then I wasn't. Two nameless transgender men with no lore appearing in the art for a Secret Lair Drop is just not meaningful representation.

The first named trans man to ever appear on a Magic card was Klement, a tiefling introduced in the summer 2022 set, Alchemy Horizons: Baldur's Gate. Don't get me wrong, I like Klement a lot– he's a very cute character and I'm glad he exists. But it's frustrating that he doesn't even exist in the Magic Multiverse because he's a Baldur's Gate character, and you can't actually own a real Klement card because he's a digital Alchemy card exclusive to Magic Arena.

Now that we're in early 2023, Magic is set to have been around for 30 years without ever featuring a named trans man character on a printed card or in a story.

Trans men have remained painfully invisible in popular media, even as the mainstream has gotten a lot better about representing a wide variety of people in the past few years. Magic in particular has done a very good job of increasing representation for marginalized groups. Magic clearly isn't afraid of including trans characters, which is why the lack of representation for trans men is so disappointing and so baffling to me.

Not having any representation for trans men in Magic hurts because meaningful representation for marginalized groups helps tremendously to promote inclusion in the community. Magic has a wonderful community and I feel like its members genuinely try to welcome all kinds of people, but others can't learn to become more accepting of you if they don't even know you exist.

When people talk about making the community welcoming for people of marginalized genders, trans men are often forgotten and left out of the conversation. When I see people discussing matters of marginalized genders in the community, they don't acknowledge that trans men are just as affected by gender discrimination as other marginalized genders. And I often see people (even other trans people) use the phrase "women and nonbinary" when talking about creating safe community spaces, seemingly not realizing that phrase categorically excludes trans men.

If the intention is to be inclusive, I don't know why we'd be excluded. It hurts to think that people say these things because they either don't know we exist or actually don't want to be friends with us.

I'm genuinely glad I've seen so many other trans people and allies connect with each other through the Magic fandom. But it's sad to not feel that same sense of solidarity and friendship. When I talk with other trans men in the Magic fandom, we're often lamenting the fact that there are no canon characters or prominent Magic creators / community members who are trans men. We have nothing to celebrate.

I think Magic's story and characters should reflect its diverse fanbase. The trans men in the Magic community deserve to have our stories told. Not only so others will understand our struggles, but so they can learn to share our joy. I want to show others who I am, and that I'm happy to be me.

Jace's character shows that people are receptive to these stories, and that in some cases, we have secretly been there all along. I'm just hoping for the day we can step proudly into the spotlight.

[bullet-prooflove]

Wild Bloom: Jamie Dutton x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

Jamie doesn’t realise there’s a florist in Bozeman, not until the first anniversary of Lee’s death comes around. He’s felt the event creeping up on him for weeks, intruding on his thoughts, dogging at his steps. He can’t express just how much he misses his brother, the nights they used to spend by the fireplace sipping whiskey and laughing at the most ridiculous shit. Lee was the heart of Yellowstone, the soul of it, without him the place is cold and barren.

When the anniversary rolls around he’s at a loss, he tries to bury himself in his work but he’s distracted, irritable.  Nervous energy crackles underneath the surface of his skin and there’s an ache in his chest that won’t seem to shift. Every time he thinks of Lee’s empty grave, his heart twists because Lee, he deserved better than this.

He can’t stand to be in his office anymore so he takes a walk to burn off some of the restlessness he’s feeling, his intention is to head to the coffeeshop but then a flash of cornflower blue catches his eyes and he remembers the ride he took with Lee not long before his death.

“I want to show you something.” Lee had said that last weekend when Jamie was hunkered down in his office. He’d been pulling a lot of late nights at the time, trying to earn his father’s affection by studying grants they could apply for to lessen the financial burden of the ranch.

“I don’t have the time.” Jamie had murmured but Lee had taken the paperwork from his hands and turned it so it was face down.

“Make time.” Lee had said frankly. “You’re tired and stressed, you need to take a break.”

“Lee…” Jamie chided running his hands through his hair but his brother wasn’t having it.

“Jamie.” Lee had said firmly. “This place will work you into the ground if you let it, I have two horses saddled up outside, you’re taking a break.”

So he’s ended up on a horse, trotting alongside his brother as he led him down a trail he didn’t recognise, the tension ebbing from his body.

“Where are we going?” He asked Lee but the other man had just smiled and said.

“You’ll see.”

It’s the flashes of colour that claim Jamie’s attention. He sees them through the trees as they get closer, he hurries forward because his curiosity is piqued and Lee smiles knowingly behind him. It’s when he breaks through the undergrowth that he understand what he’s seeing. Wild flowers, an entire field of them, a complete plethora of vibrance and beauty. It’s stunning, absolutely stunning and for a second Jamie can’t speak as Lee draws up alongside him.

“It's a wild bloom.” Lee explains as he ties up the horses and unpacks a bottle of whisky from his pack.  “A couple of years ago there was a wild fire up here, it burned up this entire stretch of land. It took all the undergrown that was draining the soil of nutrients stripping it back to the way it was supposed to be. When it rained a couple of days later the soil became ash enriched and all of these things started to grow in the wake of that destruction.”

“How do you know all this?” Jamie had asked him as Lee had given him that sad smile, the one he had recognised from their other talks about the ranch and it’s burdens.  

“I wanted to go to college, become a conservationist but Dad needed me here so…” He shrugs his shoulders as he sips from his tin cup of whiskey. “It is what it is.”

He doesn’t say much more after that but Jamie remembers there was a girl back then, someone Lee was sweet on. It was around the time he’d found the brochures for Berkley and Stanford shoved under Lee’s bed when he was searching for smokes.

All those dreams, he thinks now as he stands in front of the florists. Lee would probably still alive if he’d defied their father, he could have been married with a kid or two, saving the world one wildflower at a time. His future had been stolen by that ranch, the same way that Jamie’s is.

The biggest problem for Jamie is that nobody talks about Lee, the farmhouse where he lived was cleared out, his belongings put god knows where. It’s as if his brother never existed and that devastates Jamie, it stabs at his heart because Lee was the only person who ever saw Jamie, the only one who actually knew him.

You’re behind the counter when Jamie enters the shop, you’re sitting on the stool putting the finishing touches to a bridal bouquet plush with yellow roses, purple irises and a whole host of other flowers he can’t name. You look up when you see him approaching and those eyes, they ensnare him completely.

It’s when he reaches you that he realises he has no idea what to ask for.

“I lost my brother.” He finds himself saying, his voice rough with emotion. “I want something that says that I miss him, that I remember him, that I…”

He trails off then because the emotion it’s just too much and you clasp his hand in understanding. It’s nothing more but a light squeeze but there’s such empathy in it that Jamie can’t help but feel comforted by the gesture.

“Let me put something together for you.” You say softly before you pull away and Jamie feels the loss of your presence acutely. He watches as you walk around the shop, fingertips selecting different blooms, tucking them into the cradle of your arm. He’s mesmerised by the grace of your motions, the  fluidity of them. You move like dancer, swaying to the sound of a song he can’t hear.

“Forget-me-nots.” You say as you return to the small counter and begin to compile the bouquet. “ A few poppies for remembrance, some marigolds to remind you his spirit is still with you wherever you go and gladioli for you, to give you strength because grief, it’s fucking hard.”

He realises then that he’s not the only one that’s lost someone, you’re in mourning too.

“Who was it?” He finds himself asking as you loop a thread of brown twine around the bouquet and tie it off with a bow.

“My mother in the spring.” You say softly and now it’s his turn to reach across the counter.

“For what it’s worth I’m sorry about your mom.” He tells you, his hand coming to rest on yours, his thumb lightly caressing the indentation of your wrist.

“Thank you.” You say, your eyes flickering up to meet his and his breath catches because you, you’re just as stunning as that field of wildflowers. “I’m sorry about your brother too.”

He clears his throat then before pulling his hand away and tucking it into his pocket.

“How much do I owe you?”

“On the house.” You say softly. “One grieving person to another.”

Jamie can’t vocalise just how touched he is by the gesture. He could try and argue the point, force cash on you but he already you’d never take it.

“Thank you.” He says instead cradling the flowers to his chest because he can’t remember the last time that someone actually gave him something for the sake of it.

When he gets back the ranch that evening, he doesn’t head into the house instead he walks to the small graveyard where generations of the entire Dutton family are buried. He takes out the small microfibre cloth he always carries in his car out of his pocket and uses it to wipe down Lee’s headstone.

Graves aren’t for the dead, he thinks, they’re for the living to draw comfort.

He sets the flowers down upon the base of the memorial before he carefully lays his jacket down and sits on it.

“I miss you.” He tells his brother as the tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “I miss you like hell.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[avelera]

My two favorite character-related cheat codes for writing that I've spent a lot of time practicing lately are:

1 ) When in close character point-of-view (POV, 1st or 3rd) ie, "we're in this character's head and no other, and we're set immediately in their thoughts", try filtering the description and narration through their POV.

Ex. "The coffee machine was broken." -> "The coffee machine was broken, because of course it was, just when Bob needed it most."

Note: Like all tools, this can be overused and it's not suited to every story, but narration flavored by the character's POV can really make a story pop.

Caveat: There can be limits as far as what this character would notice and describe when this deep in their head. For example, neutral narration might say, "Bob's cheeks darkened with anger." However, Bob cannot see his own cheeks (unless he's got a mirror or is going through an out of body experience, I suppose) and so even if one is not in 1st person, it can be jarring for the character to note things they can't see. Also applies to some descriptions like, "Bob's dulcet voice that called to mind a nightingale." Bob would probably not think that about himself, unless maybe he does, but that's a very specific type of self-confident character who thinks something like that about themself. Whereas another character can think that about Bob, or a neutral word-of-god narration style can.

2 ) If you, the author, don't know how something works in your story or what the character would do next, the POV character doesn't have to know it either! And in fact, exploring this can add richness and texture to your story!

This can be applied to multiple situations you might be stuck on as an author. For example, in a sci-fi story, maybe you feel under obligation to explain how the Space Widget works in space. But the thing is, most people don't know, for example, how their microwave works, let alone know it well enough to build one. You're absolutely allowed to have a character in a genre setting like sci-fi/fantasy, when confronted with the futuristic technology of their time, not actually know how it works or how to build it! Unless the character is a space mechanic, it's completely reasonable and can lend to humor and character realism if they don't.

Along these lines, coloring your narration with incomplete knowledge, whether it's true or false, and opinion is another way to enrich your story. Most people don't have perfect knowledge of the history of our world, let alone knowledge that's 100% correct! Two people having different opinions about that historical event that happened 600 years ago is a great way to do exposition and to reveal character, for example, if it was a peasant revolt a character with a peasant background might sympathize with the peasants, an aristocrat sides with the king! Also, people might just not know much about that revolt that happened 600 years ago, or perhaps it's been erased from history, or mythologized to the point of falsehood, or turned into propaganda for the winning side. When worldbuilding, sometimes it matters less what actually happened and more what people think actually happened. This also feeds into what are the opinions and the entertainment people enjoy to in this world? What does that say about your characters?

You can also use this trick for bigger questions like, "Should my character forgive their deadbeat father in the next scene?" You, as the author, might feel as if you should have this figured out but the thing is, realistically, your character might not have the answer either and it's a complex enough emotional question that it is, in fact, more realistic that the character doesn't have a ready made answer or decision too! Adding a scene where you, the author, sit in the characters head, in a scene, maybe talking to a friend of theirs going through their options of whether or not they should forgive their deadbeat father is another opportunity both for a character moment and for you the author to work through which option the character would pick as the character. You can always toss the scene later but then at least you have the knowledge in your head.

And finally, it's ok to have other characters react with surprise to the character's choice in the same way the reader or you, the author, would. "Wow, I really thought you were going to forgive your deadbeat dad, but you didn't, that's great/terrible!" That is a character revealing exchange and might be a great jumping-off point for future drama. Don't sweep it under the rug. As noted above, it's normal, human, and interesting for characters to have opinions about the world around them and the actions of people they know (or don't know, vis a vis, tabloids, famous people, current events, etc). Indeed, word of god objective truth rarely exists in the real world, history is a myth agreed upon, and everyone's got a different take on every story. This is extremely valuable to utilize when worldbuilding and constructing narratives/narration.

[mail-posting]

magic and monsters... my many hours poring over my 10 dnd 5e sourcebooks are coming for me. gonna just touch on ale for right now i think because otherwise i will yap for. an eternity. (the racial thoughts are supplementary for most bc i'm not fully sure, except in andrew's case where i have reasons for my thoughts.) andrew: dark elves (drow in 5e) are sunlight sensitive and also there's a whole stigma due to the predisposition they have in lore to be evil-aligned (yes i know they're dedicated to lolth and exceptions are rare but. it fits andrew ok. he can't see shit in the light, people see him and think he's a certain way... ough.) as for his class, i could see him as trying to be life domain cleric (life domain is all about healing and caring for those in need), but he instead is given the grave domain (focused on keeping the cycle of life, keeping the dead dead) or light domain (light is focused on rebirth and truth- though a lot of spells involve flashbanging the opposition and andrew could see that as his penance for asking the deity's aid). if he were a paladin, i'd see him as an oath of devotion one, its tenets line up with how he thinks i feel! also when he fails to save someone or when something happens that is out of his control he'd blame himself long before anyone else would, thinking he broke his oath when he never did... and we have bright light emittance as a capstone ability which. not good for him!! he can't see!! he has str/con from his work, and i think he'd be better at wis than cha (points for cleric - paladins cast with charisma and clerics with wisdom), int is around the middle and his dex is not good. luca: get that boy into the artificer class! i feel like he'd absolutely have an engineering focus, as an artillerist perhaps (sometimes he needs to build a cannon, ok? it's enrichment), or maybe battle smith (a sort of defensive class, which could make sense. he doesn't remember what he originally worked on, but he can work with these tools still, he can make sure he doesn't hurt anyone this time. he can protect them. right?) as for race if we go on dnd standards, i'd place him as a... maybe a half elf, elf on herman's side? maybe a gnome too. that impulsive nature is extremely gnome of him, and i believe he had a good amount of that before he uh. yeah. high int and cha, low str and con, dex and wis in the middle. emil: this man can zoom! give him a high dex stat and a scout rogue build (able to nyoom out of the way of opponents and excels at moving fast: knowing his grappling hook, we could apply that logic), with some barbarian or fighter multiclass to represent his fighting he had to do if we want the pain. i think barbarian due to the focus on channeling rage, though the heavy focus on certain spiritualities and the 'primal path' wording is difficult since i don't think he grew up with connections to living in the area the flavor text associates with barbarians, he just had to survive. beast path where he's been treated like a dog so long he becomes one in battle... berserker path where the memory is just as fuzzy as always, but now with a new goal in mind... sorry. im ill. i could see him as like. a dwarf perhaps? maybe whoever he is he's out of place where he lives currently until he meets andrew and luca and finds a family within them... looking alike never meant belonging. and these two really make him feel like he belongs.

@laceadornedvampire

[tipsy-scales]

I shared my doll lore to my IG, so I have to put it here too for posterity…

Doll Lore Corner

This post is my personal "lore" regarding my dolls. I still view them as their intended characters, but over time the dolls have developed their own quirks. These quirks guide how I style them and why I think the characters would be living together. Also, all of my dolls are robots.

So if characterization is slightly off or exaggerated, don't be too bothered by it. It's just stuff applying to my own dolls 😄

9S: The second oldest

His preferred style is streetwear with cyber/ punk elements. He rarely wears it though because most of his outfits are coordinated with 2B. He is effortlessly stylish.

All of his jewelry was gifted by 2B. He genuinely likes jewelry but it is unclear if he'd have so many piercings had she not gifted him so much. He has 4 tattoos.

He likes gadgets and falls easily into obsessive behavior

2B: The oldest

Wears gothic and vintage style. She is modest overall but does show off her legs. 2B dresses very elegantly and puts a lot of care into her outfits.

Her personality is rather subdued. She usually goes along with whatever 9S does and serves as his impulse control.

She loves accessories but has no piercings and only one tattoo which is hidden.

Pair Dynamic

9S & 2B are dating but act cryptic about it even though it is obvious. 2B does not know where 9S lives because he comes to pick her up every morning.

They coordinate all of their outfits and own the most clothing. Their codependency is concerning but they seem to have been through a lot before they came here, so nobody bothers them about it

Len: The perpetual middle child

Len is a child star who has become burnt out on his career. 2B is his cousin so he came to live with her while he figures himself out (they are related because they share a similar mechanical part. 9S is from the same line as 2B but does not share this one part so he is not related. It's a robot thing), Len is not an android but a highly advanced hologram.

Everything about him was assigned by his manager. He wears clothes well and will wear almost anything but it is difficult to tell what he truly likes.

His image color is yellow and his motifs are hearts and roses.

Dynamic

Len greatly respects 2B & does not like 9S who he did not know about when he moved in with her.

Secretly, Len thinks 9S is cool and wants to be like him. This reflects as him trying to upstage 9S in every way. 9S does not realize this about Len which is impressive.

All of Len's tattoos are fake & only half of his piercings are real.

Despite these things though, Len is the easiest to get along with (unless you are 9S)

Nial and Elizabeth: Literal Babies

(Code: 9Sミ二2Bミ二)

Adopted children of 2B & 9S. They seem to be scrapped prototypes for portable units & have never seen combat.

Due to weaker specs they act like young children & will likely never be as complex as the larger models. They do not speak.

Their base personalities are identical to the larger models but different memories make them act differently. Elizabeth seems subdued but happy. Nial is curious but has a sense of inner peace.

Family Dynamic

Nial & Elizabeth are being raised as twins. Elizabeth is especially fond of 9S. Nial's thoughts are unknown.

Len is their babysitter though he never agreed to it.

Chii: Older than Len but younger than 9S

Seeking enrichment for 9S, 2B bought a fixer upper gadget online & expected an old toaster or fridge. Instead it was Chii who is classed as an appliance.

Chii wears the most colorful outfits out of everyone. Having been recently reactivated, she is genuinely innocent & seems to lack a strong will— though she is growing by the day.

Group dynamic

Upon realizing Chii was a girl & not a toaster, 2B became insanely jealous & tried to eliminate Chii which brought her great shame. She keeps this incident a secret (Len saw though)

Since Chii was gifted to 9S, she sees him as something like a father & 2B like a mother. This makes everyone uncomfortable.

Len was excited to meet Chii but she doesn't pay much attention to him.

After realizing Chiï's innocence, 2B gets along with her better. 9S wants to find a friend for Chii so she can grow more.

Bonus Dolls

Selim: The actual oldest doll

Lives in the woods or something. Only Len knows about him. 9S encountered him once but the memory was erased. He is not a robot

Elsa: From a bygone era

A non sentient audio animatronic who sings the same song over and over. The most beautiful woman Len has ever seen.

That’s all! Thank you for reading 🤭

[hologramcowboy]

I’m glad Jensen has a new role and a production to be involved with from the start. I just hope, as you have mentioned before, that he puts in the prep work required.

What prep would you suggest someone in his position to do before filming begins?

What a beautiful question!

Here's what he could do:

Doing research on the people involved and their respective brands

Getting a good sense of the show's target audience and brand

Doing script and character analysis along with character based research - this is crucial

Making bold choices for his character that allow Jensen to broaden and explore his range

Create chemistry with his costars by genuinely connecting and also by doing chemistry exercises

Get private or on set coaching to level up his acting game

Use NLP and alpha states to create and own the memories of the character

Find the emotional triggers and beats that apply to his character and build upon those (by bringing his uniqueness)

Prepping powerful "moment before" before filming a scene

Speak to the director, showrunner and writer to get a clear sense of their vision and his character

Explore new acting exercises to enrich his actor toolbox

Rehearse choices and change them up based on desired outcome

Clearly set his overall and scene objectives and use dynamic ways of achieving them

Create a musical playlist for his character (few actor do this but it's so helpful)

Emotional Diary - diving deep into the character's emotions and finding those emotions within himself and connecting that to the character's drive ( a powerful tool to use but it requires guts)

Big one to avoid cringe acting: Make physical choices such as mannerisms, voice intonation etc in an organic way based on his inner work - this will create real behavior as opposed to mimicked behavior ( an example of mimicked behavior is his fake dean voice, it comes off blatantly fake whereas he used to play dean in a natural way in early seasons)

Most importantly, SELF CARE, acting can be very taxing so meditation and acts of self care are crucial. They allow an actor to build up the energy required to channel different emotional states.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Practical Ethics || Chapter Nine

In which Armand waits.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight |

Also on AO3!

***

The jazz music filtering through the speaker above Armand’s head does little to soothe him where he sits in a bleak hospital waiting room. He’s holding himself close, his legs drawn up toward his chest and his chin resting on his knees, too paralyzed by the sickening worry churning in his stomach to move. He thinks he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket a little while ago, but he can’t bring himself to check it—even though it’s been nearly an hour since he’d scrubbed his hands raw in the bathroom down the hall, he swears he can still feel Louis’ blood between his fingers and it’s hard to think about anything else.

He swallows thickly as he remembers it—those long, agonizing minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, Louis’ blood leaking sluggishly through his fingers as he did his best to apply ample pressure to his wound. It didn’t even seem to be a very large cut—less than an inch long where it was located just along the edge of his hairline—but there was so much blood…

Such things had never bothered Armand before, not after all those years of living with the Children of Satan. He was so young when he was taken, he can hardly remember a time when it did. He had long ago gotten used to its sickening metallic tang—the scent of it in the air, the taste of it on his tongue. Countless times, he had cleaned it off of altars and spilled it into chalices, again and again and again, as often as his coven required it for their darkest of rituals. 

But as he sits now in this hospital and thinks of Louis lying motionless in his office, a spreading pool of crimson seeping into his carpet, well… 

It bothers him now.

Armand shakes the gruesome image from his mind, pulling his arms a little tighter across his shins. He’d answered the EMTs’ questions as best he could when they finally arrived—“No, I don’t know what happened”—“Yes, he just fainted and hit his head on the way down,”—“No, I don’t know who his next of kin is, but he told me he has a partner”—and now all there is to do is wait.

There’s a dip in the music as one song ends and another begins where the unpleasant hum of the fluorescent lights becomes unbearable and Armand wonders what he’s even doing here.  After all, he isn’t Louis’ family. He doubts these people will even tell him anything about Louis’ status once they do have more information.

But mere moments after he watched them load Louis’ barely conscious body into the ambulance and begin to take him to the hospital, Armand was on the back of his Vespa and following close behind them before he had even registered what he was doing. There simply hadn’t been any other choice to make. 

So he stays, waiting and praying for some word that Louis is going to be okay. For more reasons than one, he really, really isn’t sure what he’ll do if he isn’t.

His eyes begin to mist with tears as he thinks about that possibility. Louis is the first mentor Armand has ever had who only ever wanted to help him be his best self, not mold him into whatever version of him was most convenient or pleasing to them. 

And beyond that, at some point along the way Armand has come not just to need Louis, but to like him as well. He’s never met anyone quite like him before. More than just supportive of his work, Louis is friendly and charming when he wants to be, and often shares deep thoughts about philosophy, literature, and religion that make Armand’s mind spin for hours after he leaves his lectures or has a chat with him in his office. He enriches Armand’s life in ways he never would have expected. 

If he doesn’t make it through this, what is Armand going to do without him?

That troubling thought lingers in Armand’s mind for a moment before the doors to the emergency room burst open with all the force of a hurricane. 

Armand turns to look, startled by the sudden noise, and sees a man who looks like he just blew in from eighteenth century France—face powder and all—rush up to the front desk.

A man who is definitely, unmistakably Lestat de Lioncourt.

“Where is Louis de Pointe du Lac?!” he bellows in French at the receptionist, his chest heaving as his palms brace on the top of the counter.

The receptionist holds up a hand to tell him to wait a moment while she finishes speaking to her caller, but Lestat grabs the phone right out of her grip and slams it down onto the receiver.

“Where is my husband?!” Lestat screams, in English this time, his voice broken and tearful. “I got a call that he was admitted here. Where is he?!” 

Armand blinks as Lestat’s words hit his ears.

Son of a bitch, he realizes, with no small amount of incredulity. Daniel was right.

There is no illicit affair taking place between Louis and Lestat. There never has been. They are, and apparently have been for quite some time, married to each other. 

Oh, Daniel is going to be so insufferable about this.

“Sir, do I need to call security?” the woman behind the desk asks, breaking Armand from his thoughts. 

Lestat still stands in front of the desk, every inch of him trembling with barely restrained emotion. 

Armand jumps up from his seat and intervenes before Lestat can make matters worse for himself.

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” he says, casually stepping into place beside Lestat and placing a hand on his arm. 

Lestat flinches reflexively under his touch and his striking blue eyes widen almost comically as he sees who has come to his aid.

“You,” Lestat says, and his inflection makes it hard to tell whether he means it as a question or exclamation.

Armand ignores him, his attention entirely focused on the receptionist. 

“What Monsieur de Lioncourt here means to say is that he would like to know Louis de Pointe du Lac’s room number and get an update on his status from his physician,” Armand says, letting his voice go calm, his eyes wide and disarming in that way that so often has people doing what he wants them to. “As his husband, surely he is entitled to that information?”

The receptionist stares at them in an agonizing moment of deliberation and Armand keeps his grip on Lestat’s arm tight in the hope that he will convince him to refrain from jumping over the desk and searching through the computer himself. 

“Please,” Lestat whispers at last, his eyes wet with unshed tears, seeming to understand at last that he really will catch more flies with honey. “I need to know if he is okay.”

“Alright,” she sighs, her posture relaxing as she seems to decide that Lestat is going to behave himself. “You said his name was Louis de—”

“Pointe du Lac,” Lestat finishes, spelling out each word for her without waiting to be asked, as if on auto-pilot—like he’s come to expect the question and answers it often. 

Armand supposes that, after so many years as Louis’ husband, he probably has. 

“Okay,” she says and begins searching for his records. “Why don’t you have a seat over there and I’ll see if I can get an update for you from his doctor.” 

“Thank you for your help,” Armand tells her and tugs Lestat over to the waiting area.

To his surprise, Lestat follows him without complaint. 

Armand returns to his seat, but Lestat stays standing and begins to pace back and forth in front of where Armand sits, too anxious to stay still.

Armand takes the opportunity to really look at Lestat then. His costume is ridiculous, though exceptionally well-made—an eighteenth century justaucorps cut from pearlescent white fabric, its polished brass buttons and golden embroidery gleaming under the fluorescent lights, and a pair of satin pants and hose to match. His overcoat and vest are both unbuttoned and his delicate lace jabot has been shoved haphazardly into his pocket, as if he left the fitting room before fully dressing himself or undid them in a hurry on the way here. Armand imagines it was the latter, the circumstances suffocating enough without the added constriction of having something physically tied around his neck. 

At that thought, Armand looks past the satin and lace at the man himself. He’s sure he’s never seen him in such a state, not even on that one afternoon he saw him smoking outside of Trinity Hall. Hot tears are beginning to slip down his cheeks now, no longer able to cling to his soft, blonde lashes, his waterproof makeup working overtime to stay in place. He paces back and forth like a caged animal, anxiety and misery haunting his every step. His chest heaves with each panicked breath and his heart is pounding so hard, Armand swears he can see his pulse jumping in his throat. He might be able to hear it, too, if he tries hard enough to listen. 

As the two of them wait in this excruciating purgatory with Louis’ life hanging in the balance, it is abundantly clear that Lestat is suffering and it is unbearable for Armand to watch.

“He’ll be alright,” he offers, desperate to take away Lestat’s pain in any way he can. His voice buckles under the weight of such a meaningless platitude, the words ringing as hollowly as Armand feels them.

Lestat scoffs at him, a wretched sound that comes out more like a sob, but at least it makes him pause his efforts at wearing a hole through the cheap linoleum floor. He turns and fixes Armand with a scathing look instead.

“Alright?” he seethes, baring his teeth as anguish simmers his blood, so voluminous that he has nowhere else to put it. “How would you know, you little gremlin?”

Armand’s jaw clenches with a spike of annoyance at that, but he chooses to ignore it. Lestat is a wounded dog right now, lashing out at whatever comes too close, he tells himself. He can’t imagine that he would be in a much different state if it were Daniel in this hospital right now. In any case, he can wait until things have returned to normal—and Lestat isn’t wearing high heels—to remind him that he is actually two inches taller than him.

“Why are you even here?” Lestat asks him suddenly, as if the question has only just occurred to him.

“Why are you dressed as a French aristocrat?” Armand deflects, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I am a French aristocrat,” Lestat answers, drawing himself up a little taller, his agony fading to the background for just a moment as a pompous air of indignation overtakes him. 

He’s never looked more unforgivably French. 

“But I am also an actor, hence the costume,” he continues, waving a hand over his own body with a characteristic flourish. “I received the call from the hospital as I was preparing for a matinée performance.”

The gears in Armand’s mind start turning at that. “You wouldn’t happen to be playing the lead in Dom Juan, would you?”

Armand finds some small satisfaction in the expression of surprise Lestat wears at his question. 

“I am,” he says, eyeing him suspiciously.

Ah, Armand thinks. A few more pieces fall into place as he recalls the titles of the books hidden in Louis’ desk and the conversation he had with him today. For Louis’ sake, Armand hopes Lestat is not a method actor.

“How did you know that?” Lestat asks him, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting to one foot.

“Lucky guess,” Armand answers with a cryptic smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You never answered my question.” Lestat points out a beat later. “What are you doing here?”

Armand swallows tensely. He supposes he can’t put it off any longer. “I was with Louis when he fell.”

Lestat takes a step closer and opens his mouth to speak, but Armand cuts him off before he can say anything.

“I was leaving my meeting with him to talk about my paper and, before you ask, I don’t know what made him faint,” he continues, “But he… hit his head on the way down.”

“He hit his head?” Lestat asks, somehow growing even more pale beneath the white greasepaint covering his face. “On what, the floor?”

“No,” Armand shakes his head. “On the sharp corner of that fancy Keurig he has by his desk. I did my best to stop the bleeding until the ambulance came.”

For perhaps the first time in his life, Lestat is speechless. Armand watches his jaw work as he processes all that Armand has told him, which are likely the most specific details he’s gotten so far about what happened to Louis this afternoon.

“Thank you,” Lestat says after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically sincere. “But why are you here? Why did you come to the hospital?”

“I wanted to make sure he was alright,” Armand answers.

“Why?” Lestat presses, taking another step closer. Armand has to look up at him now. “He’s your teacher.”

“He’s more than that,” Armand says, standing up to look Lestat in the eye. “He’s—he’s my friend.”

As those words leave his mouth, the truth of them hits Armand for the first time. Yes, Louis may be his teacher, but somewhere along the way he also became his friend.

“Whatever happened to the ethical imperative of keeping relationships between faculty and graduate students strictly professional?” Lestat asks him, something smug about the set of his mouth—as if something he’s long suspected has turned out to be true. “Don’t tell me you weren’t paying attention in class, Armand. Louis will be very disappointed.”

“I don’t think you want to compare notes on ethical behavior, Lestat,” Armand responds coolly, crossing his arms over his chest once more. “I have a feeling you aren’t going to come out on top.”

A broad smile stretches out across Lestat’s face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Wrong again, Armand,” Lestat chastises him with a feigned sense of playfulness poorly befitting their setting or their circumstances. “Just ask Louis. He’ll tell you how often I’m on top.” 

Armand nearly rolls his eyes right out of his skull. 

“I don’t think Louis he would, actually,” Armand says, “given how long you two have been hiding your relationship from the rest of our class.”

The cruel smile drops from Lestat’s face as a hardened look overtakes his expression. 

“I was never hiding anything,” he says, his voice rough and wounded like Armand has struck a nerve. 

Well, that’s true enough, Armand supposes. Lestat can be accused of many things, but subtlety is not one of them—if he was trying to hide his feelings for Louis, he was doing a very poor job of it.

Armand watches Lestat’s eyes again begin to fill with miserable tears and he deflates at the sight, his annoyance fading as his own heart once more pangs with sympathy. He has the sudden urge to reach up and wipe his cheeks, to step closer, even, and take him into his arms to soothe him. He doesn’t imagine Lestat will receive that particular offer very well, however, and so Armand tries to distract him instead.

“Tell me how you met, then,” he says, returning to his seat and gesturing for Lestat to take the chair beside him.

“What?” Lestat sniffles, taken aback by the turn in conversation.

“If you have nothing to hide, tell me how you met,” Armand says again. 

“Why should I?” Lestat challenges. 

Lestat’s tears have stopped, Armand notices, but he says nothing of it. Instead, he merely shrugs and says, “I’m curious.” 

“And you expect me to satisfy your curiosity at a time like this?” Lestat asks incredulously.

Armand looks pointedly around the waiting room, at the scattered few people who are reading magazines and trying to ignore their argument, and asks, “Do you have something better to do right now?”

Lestat huffs angrily, and for a moment Armand thinks he’s gone too far and said the wrong thing, but then Lestat surprises him by taking the seat next to him in the row of chairs against the wall.

He’s quiet for a long moment—so long Armand thinks he has decided to simply ignore him—before at last he starts to tell their story.

“We met at Tulane,” Lestat begins, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor between his feet. “I was seeking out the shade beneath one of the large oak trees on campus, not yet accustomed to the oppressive heat of early autumn in New Orleans, when I heard two men arguing on the path nearby. It was Louis and another man who owed him money, but was refusing to pay.”

There’s a pause in his story as Lestat sniffles again and quickly wipes a tear from his cheek with a brush of his finger. When he continues, his voice is soft and full of pain.

“I loved him the moment I saw him,” he tells Armand. “He was beautiful and confident and as I watched him get close to this man with a closed switchblade held discreetly between his fingers, I knew… I knew I would never be the same. He had awoken something in me, something that I had thought was lost forever. I wanted him more than anyone I’d ever met.” 

Armand blinks at that.

“I’m sorry, Louis was threatening to stab him?” he asks, struggling to picture it. Forgetting the insane fact that Lestat apparently fell in love at first sight with someone while they were threatening bodily harm, the Louis he knows today would never.

“Hm?” Lestat asks, as if he had been lost in thought, before he shakes his head and answers, “Oh, no. He was threatening to report him for academic dishonesty. The boy had commissioned Louis to write a paper for him and was refusing to pay him. The knife was merely a little extra encouragement.” 

Armand nods slowly, trying to make sense of this version of Louis with the one he’s come to know, and Lestat laughs at him.

“Oh, don’t look so scandalized, Armand,” he chides, turning to face him more directly. “The boy was never in any real danger. The moment he tossed Louis the cash from his wallet and scampered off down the path, Louis flipped open his switchblade and do you know what it was?”

“What?” Armand asks.

“A comb,” Lestat answers, grinning now at the absurdity of it. “I laughed so hard I nearly wept.”

Armand smiles at the visual. “I don’t imagine Louis appreciated that very much.”

“Oh, he was delightfully furious,” Lestat confirms. “‘Somethin’ funny to you?’ he asked me, and of course that only made me laugh harder.”

Having been on the receiving end of Lestat’s inappropriate laughter himself, that part isn’t hard at all for Armand to believe.

“I thought to myself, ‘Who is this man?’” Lestat continues, “but by the time I regained control of myself, he was gone. I simply had to know more so I asked around about him and I learned he was seeing a woman named Lily. 

“Now, Lily was in the most exclusive sorority on campus and well known by many so she was much easier to find. I sat with her in the student commons and struck up a conversation. I lamented my poor English and difficulty with assignments and she suggested I meet her friend, Louis, who was always willing to help those in need for the right price. I assured her that money and the will to spend it are two things I will never lack and so she texted him to meet us.

“He was… not so pleased to see me, at first, especially as I was sitting so close to Lily, but…” Lestat pauses then, as if choosing his words carefully. He meets Armand’s eyes and the weight of his gaze feels meaningful, sending a shiver down Armand’s spine as he says, “I know how I look. I know how people look at me when they want me. Louis tried to hide it, but I could tell he was interested in me.”

Armand tries not to shift in his seat as he asks, “What happened then?” 

“He agreed to help me,” Lestat tells him. “For a price, of course, and I was more than willing to pay. I was taking a class on Shakespeare, my favorite playwright, at the time and so I was worried he would see that I didn’t actually need the help I claimed to, but he didn’t. Or at least he didn’t call me on it. I think he secretly relished the excuse to speak about those plays together just as much as I did.”

“What makes you think that?” Armand asks.

“He was studying Economics and dreadfully bored of it,” Lestat explains. “Louis’ heart is and has always been with the Humanities. Each night we met to study together, I watched him come alive as he talked about the text. Our arguments over our interpretations were nothing less than exhilarating.”

The thought of Lestat being invested in anything academic is difficult for Armand to accept, but he supposes he also doesn’t know him very well. 

“So Louis started out as your tutor?” Armand asks. He can’t help but wonder about the ethics of that.

“At first,” Lestat replies. “It wasn’t long before our weekly study sessions gave way to friendly nights out enjoying all the music and culture New Orleans has to offer. Though I had been living in the French Quarter for a few weeks, I was still new to his city and Louis had much to share with me. We became very good friends.”

“How did you end up getting together then?” Armand asks, curious to know how this arrangement turned into a romance.

The corner of Lestat’s mouth quirks upward at the question for just a moment before the smile fades.

“We danced around each other for ages,” he answers. “I am not, by nature, a very patient man, but… with Louis still painfully in the closet and pretending to be with Lily, I had no choice but to wait for him to come to me. I didn’t want to scare him off by being too forward.” 

“You really didn’t make a move on him that whole time?” Armand asks him. Given the filth he’s overheard come out of Lestat’s mouth, he kind of doubts it.

“I said I was patient, not a saint,” Lestat deadpans with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, it all came to a head when he insisted I come to his family home for Thanksgiving. He wanted me to experience an ‘iconic American holiday' now that I had moved to this side of the Atlantic.”

“He wanted you to meet his family?” Armand asks. He remembers Louis’ comments about his sister and distantly wonders if anyone has told her about what happened today.

“Mhm,” Lestat nods. “Believe me, I was as surprised as you are now, but I was determined to make a good impression.”

“Did you?” Armand asks.

“No,” Lestat says with a grimace. “His brother caused a scene and I left before dessert. Louis walked me home and came inside for a drink.”

Something about the expression on Lestat’s face makes Armand press further.

“Just a drink?” he asks skeptically.

A wider smile breaks across Lestat’s face at that. 

“No,” he answers, and Armand has never heard one syllable imply so much. “We spent the night together.”

“And the rest is history?” Armand guesses.

Lestat’s answering sigh is a little wistful. “If only,” he says. “When I woke, I found myself alone in my bed.”

Armand tries not to think of all the times he’s done that exact thing to Daniel as he asks, “Did he give you an explanation?”

“Not at first,” Lestat answers. “He later confided in me that he grew up in a very religious home and that being intimate with me had caused him to have a crisis of faith. I suppose I should have taken it as a compliment, but at the time all I knew was that the man I had fallen humiliatingly in love with was refusing to speak to me and wouldn’t even tell me why. He forgot to turn his read receipts off, too, so I knew exactly when he had read my text messages and then chose to ignore them. It was maddening.” 

Armand tries to imagine it: a younger Lestat waking up after a night with Louis, only to find himself in an empty bed, cut from Louis’ life with no explanation. Looking at Lestat now, at the tremble in his lower lip and the crease at the center of his brow, Armand can tell that there is still a part of him that’s haunted by Louis’ rejection, even so many years later. 

“That must have been very difficult,” Armand says, his voice soft and sympathetic. 

Lestat nods.

“He broke my heart,” he adds quietly. “I didn’t know what to do without him. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it anymore.” Armand watches Lestat’s eyes fill with tears once more as he whispers, “I still can’t.”

“Lestat…” Armand says, his own heart breaking as he watches the tears begin to spill over Lestat’s cheeks, as he remembers why they are here, pouring their hearts out to each other in the waiting room of a San Francisco Hospital. 

As far as either of them know… Louis might not make it.

Lestat begins to cry in earnest as that possibility hits him like a sharp blow to the gut. He curls in on himself, his shoulders shaking with each heart wrenching sob that claws its way out of his chest, and it is more than Armand can bear.

He pulls Lestat into his arms before he can think better of it. Lestat fights weakly against his hold before he sags against him, letting Armand take his weight as all of the emotions he’s been feeling since he got that phone call come to the surface.  

“I can’t lose him,” Lestat cries in French, the words muffled by Armand’s shirt. “Not now, not—” 

“Shh, shh,” Armand whispers in kind, his own cheeks wet with tears now. “You won’t lose him. He’ll be okay, you’ll see. It’ll be okay.” 

He cards his fingers through Lestat’s hair as he tries to allay his fears and finds the strands even softer than he’d imagined as they slip across his skin. It’s one of the most surreal experiences of Armand’s life, comforting this man who has treated him with nothing but contempt this entire semester, feeling him cling to his shirt as he sobs into his shoulder. 

Armand cannot explain the hows or whys, but he feels connected to Lestat, as if their hearts have been bound together by the concern they share for Louis and something else, something deeper that he does not yet understand. He’s so caught up in it that he doesn’t hear the sound of the door to the rest of the ward swinging open and closed.

“Excuse me?” a man asks from somewhere nearby.

“What?” Armand snaps, wrapping his arms instinctively tighter around Lestat’s shoulders as he looks up to see a handsome man with shoulder-length dark hair dressed in a long white coat. 

“Is one of you Mr. Lioncourt?” the doctor asks, looking back and forth between them.

Lestat jerks out of Armand’s arms at the question and gets to his feet. Armand ignores the pang of hurt he feels in his chest as he does it and stands beside him, waiting to hear the news.

“I am,” Lestat says, his voice painfully hoarse as he takes another step forward with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Please, tell me, is Louis…” 

The words die in Lestat’s mouth as his voice cracks over Louis’ name. 

“Your husband is in stable condition,” the doctor assures him. “My name is Dr. Fareed Bhansali and I’ve been overseeing his care. He has a concussion and had to get some stitches, but he’s awake now and resting in his room. I expect he’ll be feeling much better in about two weeks with proper rest and a little TLC.”

The relief Armand feels at that news is powerful, nearly bowling him over. 

Louis is stable. 

He’s going to be okay.

Lestat is similarly affected—he lets out a shuddering breath, a few more tears rolling down his cheeks. He makes no move to wipe them from his face.

“What happened to him?” Lestat asks. “I know he hit his head, but… What made him pass out in the first place?”

“We’re going to run a few more tests to make sure there’s nothing more serious going on beneath the surface,” Dr. Bhansali begins, “but it looks like he’s suffering from iron-deficiency anemia.”

“What?” Lestat blinks. 

“Iron-deficiency anemia,” he repeats. “It happens sometimes with people who cut meat out of their diet and don’t find another way to replenish their iron levels. When your body doesn’t get enough iron, it can’t produce hemoglobin, which is what allows your red blood cells to carry oxygen throughout your body. You might have noticed changes in his mood and activity levels over the last few months.”

“So his veganism did this to him,” Lestat concludes, his voice pitched low in a way that makes the hair on Armand’s arm stand on end.

“That is the likely cause, yes,” he answers hesitantly. “Though there are ways to follow a vegan diet and maintain healthy iron levels. I can provide you both with some resources when he’s discharged if—” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Lestat interrupts him. “His experiment has gone on long enough, I think.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence before Dr. Bhansali continues, “I’m going to recommend that Louis stays here for the night for observation so we can monitor his concussion symptoms.”

“I can’t take him home?” Lestat asks, sounding distressed at the thought.

“Well, you can, but you’ll need to watch him closely and if he develops complications you’ll have to take him back right away,” Dr. Bhansali explains. “If the cost of a hospital stay isn’t too much of a burden, I would advise him to remain under our care so we can intervene sooner in the event that he does experience any issues within the next twenty four hours.”

“Alright,” Lestat nods. “Money is no object where Louis is concerned. I will talk to him—he will stay the night if he wants to.”

“Wonderful,” Dr. Bhansali says, making a note on his clipboard.

“Now may I see him?” Lestat asks, predictably impatient.

“Of course,” Dr. Bhansali nods. “I’ll show you to his room, it’s on my way.”

The doctor begins to walk back toward the entrance to the ward, beckoning Lestat to join him. 

Armand stays behind. Although he wishes to see the proof of Louis’ good health with his own two eyes, this is one private moment he does not wish to intrude upon. 

Lestat spares a glance back at him as he reaches the door. Their eyes meet and Lestat tips his head in Armand’s direction—a small gesture, one easy to miss—but he wastes no time in following Dr. Bhansali over the threshold and into the ward.

The door swings shut behind them with a sense of finality. Armand digs his phone out of his pocket to check the time and grimaces as he finds several missed texts from Daniel, each with more emojis than the last. 

He supposes he has some explaining to do.

It’s much later than he’d promised it would be when Armand finally unlocks his apartment and steps inside. He finds Daniel sitting back on his couch, listening to music with a bottle of whiskey sitting half-empty on the coffee table in front of him. 

Armand has no idea where he’s gotten it from, as he certainly doesn’t keep alcohol in his apartment for himself. No glass in sight either, so he must be drinking it straight from the bottle. 

Daniel has always had an… enthusiasm for drugs and alcohol that Armand has never understood, and to see him like this now after fussing over Louis’ health for the last few hours is… well. It certainly isn’t helping his blood pressure. 

At Armand’s approach, Daniel rolls his head along the back of the couch to look at him. He smiles instantly as soon as he catches sight of him through lidded eyes, his unguarded expression lighting up so sweetly it would touch Armand’s heart if he wasn’t also so obviously drunk.

“There you are,” Daniel slurs, peeling himself up off the couch and stumbling over to him. He throws his arms around Armand’s neck and pulls him into a kiss that tastes of cheap liquor. “Was beginning to think you forgot about me,” he mumbles against his mouth.

Armand suppresses a grimace at the state of his breath and pulls back to look at him properly. Daniel’s curls are a wild mess, his eyes glassy and red. He wonders if he’s taken anything else tonight. Knowing Daniel, the probability is likely.

“Hey, what’s on your shirt?” Daniel asks suddenly, his eyes caught on Armand’s shoulder. 

Armand follows his gaze and sees that white makeup has stained the fabric. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Nevermind that,” he tells him. “Have you eaten?”

“What?” Daniel cocks his head.

“Have you eaten?” he says again, a little harsher than he means to.

“Oh,” Daniel answers. “No. Was waiting for you.”

Armand sighs unhappily. Excellent. He’s been drinking on an empty stomach. 

He heads straight to the kitchen and opens the fridge, looking through it to see what he has. He hasn’t done a big shop in a while so he’s running low on ingredients, but there must be something he can work with.

He’s so focused on his task, he doesn’t register the sound of Daniel following him into the kitchen until he’s standing right behind him.

“What’s going on, boss?” he asks.

Armand feels a familiar palm sliding down his back as Daniel tries to coax him into answering his question, but he ignores him, taking out the carton of eggs, some shredded mozzarella cheese, and the leftover bag of spinach he’d opened for his smoothie earlier. It’s the closest thing to a complete and balanced meal he can make right now and he remembers that Daniel had liked the omelet he’d made him last weekend.

Spinach has a lot of iron in it, doesn’t it? he thinks as he places the food on the counter with some butter from the door of the fridge. He sets about looking for a small pan to cook it in next, opening the cabinet he keeps his cookware in. 

“You’re angry with me,” Daniel says, sounding sad and confused about it.

That gets Armand’s attention.

“I’m not angry,” he snaps, accidentally slamming the small pan he’s chosen on top of the stove. 

He almost jumps at the loud noise it makes, and when he turns to look at Daniel, he finds him staring at him with wide eyes. 

Armand slumps against the counter, guilt washing over him. He hadn’t meant to frighten him. 

“Come here,” he says softly, opening his arms.

After the briefest moment of hesitation, Daniel steps into his arms and as soon as he pulls him close, Armand can feel some invisible weight lifting from his own chest. Armand breathes him in, pressing kisses against Daniel’s neck and shoulder until Daniel relaxes into his embrace.

“I’m not angry with you,” Armand assures him, whispering the words gently against his flushed cheek. “It’s just…” Armand’s throat clicks as he swallows down the emotion simmering beneath the surface. “It’s been a long day.”

Daniel’s arms wind a little tighter around Armand’s waist. “I’m sorry.”

Armand shakes his head. “Don’t be,” he says. “I just need you to take better care of yourself. I won’t always be here to make sure that you do.”

“What?” Daniel asks.

“It’s nothing,” Armand tells him. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Daniel hums. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Armand says. He cannot even begin to imagine untangling the web of what happened earlier today with Daniel like this. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Mhmm,” Daniel nods.

“Let me make you something, then. Have a seat at the table,” Armand instructs him and Daniel steps out of his arms and goes where he’s told.

Once Armand has some butter heating in a pan, he fills up a tall glass with water and brings it to Daniel, placing it on the table in front of him.

“Finish this before I come back,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of Daniel’s head before he turns to leave so he can finish making dinner. 

“Or what?” Daniel asks, because he can never really help himself, can he?

Armand stops where he stands, turning on the spot with an eyebrow raised at Daniel’s cheek. Well, if Daniel won’t take care of himself all on his own, Armand can certainly help sweeten the deal.

He walks back up to him and tips Daniel’s chin up with two fingers so he can look at him more directly, the angle probably uncomfortable.

“Or I will be angry with you,” he says, voice low, but with the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. “Now be a good boy and do as you're told.”

He watches Daniel’s pupil’s dilate in arousal, but before he can say anything else, Armand presses a quick kiss to his forehead and heads back into the kitchen without another word.

He cracks some eggs into a bowl and begins whisking them together with some spices he pulls from the cupboard. When he takes a peek over his shoulder to check on Daniel, he sees him with his glass raised obediently to his lips, taking large sips of water to appease him. 

He seems at home here, Armand thinks, taking in the way Daniel fills his seat at the table with a sense of ease, the sight filling his chest with a cozy warmth that is very welcome after the harrowing day he’s had.

They’ll have to revisit the issue of Daniel moving in with him another time—preferably when he’s sober. For now, it’s enough for Armand to see him safe and fed. If he’s learned anything today, it’s that such things should never be taken for granted.

[uptoolateart]

Going through old post drafts before the next episode airs. This is a bunch of musings I had about Kagami, working on the assumption that she's a sentimonster.

First of all, after Perfection I really wondered when Kagami was made. If you know the answer based on spoilers, please don't tell me, because I'm watching in order.

But imagine if it was shortly before that fencing lesson in Riposte. It always struck me as strange that Adrien had never heard of her before. She was meant to be so renowned - and Tomoe has business connections with Gabriel.

And she wasn't introduced to Adrien in a normal way. She was sent into that lesson, masked, with a mission to compete with him. When she lost (or maybe didn't), she rang up Tomoe and told her she'd failed, indicating that there was a very specific purpose to that meeting.

I know Adrien viewed her Wikipedia page in that episode, but her mother / Gabriel could have easily set that up and invented a history for her. She could have literally been 'born yesterday'.

And now we move onto her name. I've pointed out a number of times that it's the Japanese word for 'mirror'. Previously I said she acts as a mirror for Adrien, as they have a lot in common and she often helps him reflect on himself.

But...her name has also been a glaring clue ever since her debut on the show, because she could be seen as a mirror for her mother. Tomoe is one of those parents who wants to live vicariously through her daughter. Taking God complexes to the extreme, she sort of made Kagami in her own image, forcing her to take up her interests and live up to her standards.

Kagami wanted to be an artist and Tomoe wouldn't allow it. That would be way too much self-expression. Any chance of asserting independent personality is thwarted. You know...like Gabriel does to Adrien. We all know Gabriel has a God complex.

What really got me about Perfection was the concept of nothingness Kagami expressed when akumatised. In a hint at her cultural background, she sort of became pure energy, formless. It was really Zen in concept.

For those who don't know, some key principles of Zen philosophy are:

Denial of the ego (Kagami achieves this through relinquishing her physical body)

Everything in the universe is interconnected (I think this was expressed through Kagami embodying the elements)

Attachment is a key source of suffering (Kagami renounced friendship, as it caused her too much pain)

Human perception is flawed (Kagami gained the power to no longer hear or see anyone, allowing her to filter out distractions and achieve greater objective clarity...or so she claimed)

Kagami ruminates that in her non-corporeal state she has given up all fear. She no longer worries about disappointing her mother or Marinette. 'Everything is so calm now. So peaceful. So...perfect.'

Perfection is a standard Kagami and Adrien are both held to. But perfection is also repeatedly linked with blankness. Staying in the context of Eastern beliefs, this blankness is a removal from the material world.

As someone who was originally raised with an Eastern religion, this whole scene struck a nerve in me. There are different ways you can interpret and apply such beliefs to your life. Some use them to enrich their family life. I mean, if you truly believe you are not your body, it stands to reason that you don't really 'own' your daughter. Therefore, you shouldn't control her, instead supporting her as a fellow soul in the journey through life. Ahem, Tomoe.

But I've seen so many people distort these ideas and use them as an excuse to run from their problems and disconnect from others. I've seen people use the 'we are not the body' thing as a reason to walk out on their kids. This is what we see with Kagami when she gives up friendship - potentially beautiful ideas twisted into unhealthy escapism, because Gabriel is in control, manipulating things.

At the same time, if Kagami is a sentimonster, this Zen moment has other implications. We can link it back to Adrien in Wishmaker, when he says his head goes blank every time he tries to think of what he wants - and when he finally realises his childhood dream was to be whatever his parents wanted him to be.

Working on the assumption that Adrien is also a sentimonster (and again, if you know the answer, please don't tell me, but...it just seems so obvious that he is one)...he and Kagami are both blank canvases for their parents to paint on. The second half of Perfection was chilling - because sentimonster theory aside, there are plenty of real parents who treat real children this way.

The good thing is that if you're a blank slate, you just need to take back the paintbrush and then you get to make whatever picture you want. Kagami and Adrien have the power to be whoever they want to be - just like we all do, no matter who tries to dictate who we are. Go on, Kagami - be the artist you want to be. Write a manga.

As an aside, if that ring Kagami wears holds her amok, it's interesting that she's allowed to wear it. Gabriel doesn't let Adrien wear his ring, because that would give Adrien too much self-control. In a strange way, Tomoe seems to have given her daughter a bit more personal freedom. And given her action against Gabriel at the end of Perfection, Tomoe also seems to care about her child more. I still don't think she's winning Mother of the Year, but...well, I guess when you're being compared to Gabriel, you'll always come out looking better.

As ever, I feel like there are a million other things I could add to this, but it's already long enough. Please no post-Perfection spoilers in the comments :)

[dream-critical]

i’m gonna say this really nicely so i don’t get misinterpreted but like. when you’ve spent a period of time far away from this side of the internet you’ll realise that this does not matter in the slightest. none of it does. none of the discourse you participate in here exists irl. and you wouldn’t even keep it in the back of your head.

and when i say it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t exist irl i don’t mean it in the way some people say that like they’re so self-aware but then go off and start arguments online anyways, i genuinely mean it. dream was obsolete to me, i did not spend a second of the day thinking about him, nor did i spend that time thinking about any other kind of discourse. when you just don’t have that kind of time on your hand you don’t even have the time to think about random internet opinions that you disagree with. and honestly once you’ve experienced that you finally realise just how much that improves your life.

because in truth, and i’ll be completely blunt with you, this isn’t healthy. we say stans are parasocial all the time, and they are, but it’s not exactly normal to devote so much effort into hating the man either. it does not enrich your life, it does not expand your horizons, it does nothing good for you, your constant anger and frustration towards this dude on the internet that has never personally impacted you does no good for you. yes, even if you are a part of a minority that has been affected by his actions, you have not been personally impacted. and i would know because i’m one of those minorities. constant anger and frustration isn’t good for your mental health either, so unless you’re willing to throw your wellbeing under the bus for the thrill of the dopamine hit when you win an argument online, maybe we just all need to take a step back and really reflect on our priorities.

this isn’t going to apply for everyone, some people might argue that the people who were doxxed, or attacked, or harassed by dream stans wouldn’t agree with me, and i can see why. but at the end of the day, dream didn’t do that. he contributed A Lot to it, sure, but you’re not gonna get that through to him, because he doesn’t know you. unless dream personally sat down and spent the time to doxx you, yelling at him isn’t going to help you.

the truth is, at least to me, dream’s not gonna crash and burn like eveyone’s hoping for. unless something happens that would make at least half of his fandom suddenly up and left, he’ll just keep going. short of dream quitting youtube and twitch himself, he’s just gonna stick around. eventually, his stans will grow out of it, but so will his antis, and he’ll just fade. because that’s how it always end, with all youtubers, streamers, and generally informal entertainment industry figures, they become irrelevant naturally through time. when his audience grew older and the new generation doesn’t seem to bat an eye, it would be years before you realise you never heard from him anymore. and even then it wouldn’t matter, as random and as sudden as the thought is, it’s not going to linger, probably not even long enough for you to search up his name and see how he’s doing, or if he’s done.

take a breather. and if you feel like arguing with me about this post clearly you have not read it through.

[foggyparadisecandy]

MISS PURITY STORY

[CONTENT WARNING: Hypnokink, Mind Control, Corruption, Non-Con, Sexual Situations, Submission, Degradation]

Descending from the sky like a lightning bolt, Miss Purity landed with full force, scattering minions right and left.

She was a breathtaking sight, stunning the thugs with her radiant beauty, effortlessly gorgeous, clad in her short, pure white, mini-toga-like shrift, cinched with her golden rope belt and golden bracelets, and her golden calf high boots.

While they were gaping at her, struggling to shake off the effect of her mesmerizing beauty, she tore through them like they were tissue paper, tossing them aside one, two, and even three at a time.

She wondered when, if ever, the League of Evildoers would get the message that Charlton City was under her protection, and she would tolerate no crime or evil doings under her watch.

When she first arrived on the scene and began her crime-fighting career five years ago, she made it clear through the local news outlets that she was here to stay. She proved good to her word.

And since that day, she easily defeated her foes time and time again.

If anything was a problem for her, the penal system in Charlton City couldn't seem to hold on to her dastardly enemies. As soon as she had imprisoned one, it seemed another would break out or be released on a technicality. Her battles were never-ending.

Of course, the enemies were a trivial matter to defeat with her ever-reliable Purity Powers.

Her first real opponent, Mark "Man Mountain" Markovian, had been all brawn, no brains, and proved no serious match for her. He was unbelievably strong compared to the average man, but ultimately no match for Miss Purity's Pure Strength that gave her the stamina and strength of 100 men. The simple truth was that Man Mountain always thought in a straight line, making him easy to anticipate and defeat. If he wanted something, he would keep coming over and over again, after his goal until Miss Purity stepped in to take him down.

It was a shame as Markovian was quite a handsome man, big and strong, with natural charisma and charm, and he probably could do something with his rugged good looks if he applied himself to something other than crime.

Her second foe was far less attractive. A bizarre-looking, thin, and reedy little man, barely five foot tall, with a creepy visage, oily skin, and a slimy demeanor, Tim "Trapmaster" Tolliver radiated wrongness. It didn't help that he had a bizarre habit of cackling nervously non-stop, like a madman, which, in all honesty, he probably was.

Trapmaster was slightly more challenging, with treacherous traps designed to confound and capture her. But the biggest challenge was that he never actually committed crimes! He seemed to have some odd fetish for laying, setting, and springing traps on innocent citizens, peacekeepers, and Miss Purity herself. On each occasion when Miss Purity was caught temporarily, she could swear the odd little man was disturbingly aroused by the ordeals. Luckily her Pure Vision allowed her to see the way out of any trap, and she could rely on her Pure Wisdom and Pure Dexterity to escape.

But the worst of the lot was her third major villain, Lexie Leather.

Best defined as Miss Purity's arch-nemesis, Lexie had a cruel and cunning mind that was always calculating complex crimes to enrich herself or bring herself means of power over others. Even with Miss Purity's Pure Intellect, Lexie always seemed to be one or two steps ahead.

And it was so frustrating to think of the wasted potential.

With her superior intellect, stunning, sexy, killer looks, and strong, commanding personality, Lexie could have been anything and done anything with her life. Why did she waste it on crime? Miss Purity always imagined another life, another world, where the two women were best friends, solving global problems together.

Lately, the three miscreants had teamed up to form the League of Evildoers to counter Miss Purity. They had proven slightly more challenging than when they committed crimes separately, but Miss Purity always came out on top.

This current case was a typical setup of the three misanthropes.

Lexie went for the rare gems on tour at the Charlton City Museum while Trapmaster laid trap after trap to slow Miss Purity, with Man Mountain standing by to pummel her when she broke free. And, of course, the obligatory henchmen and women being used as a warm-up act.

Miss Purity wrapped up the battle with the underlings in no time, avoided the oddly clumsily laid traps, dodged the grasp of Man Mountain, and rushed into the Museum before Lexie could make off with the gems. She could return for the others later, but she had learned that Lexie was always the real threat and had to be dealt with quickly.

Rushing forward as fast as her Pure Speed could carry her, Miss Purity zipped through the halls to the special exhibit holding the gems to find Lexie Leather standing with her arms outstretched, seeming to surrender without a fight.

"What's your angle, Lexie? It's not like you to give in so easily."

"Ah, yes, my darling. You love it when I struggle and resist you before you conquer me, right?" Lexie said with a suggestive smile. "But no, this time, there will be no fight. But not because I'm surrendering. No, darling. This time, I'm afraid it will be you who surrenders."

Miss Purity's turned on her Pure Voice to ensure compliance and truth for any who heard it. "Cut to the chase, Lexie Leather. I still have to mop up your minions milling outside the Museum. What game are you playing?"

Hearing Miss Purity's melodious words, Lexie was noticeably meeker and submissive to the Peerless Paragon of Perfection. Her voice throaty with arousal and shaky with compliance, she replied, "No game, Purity. I promise. We have your friend Debbie Delight in a secret location, and we have guards ready to execute her if you don't stand down."

"How dare you involve Debbie in this? She is an innocent bystander. I don't believe you would do that, Lexie. You have never gone to such lengths!"

"Yes, Purity, I understand," Lexie said humbly, still feeling the effects of the vocal charm, "but you have to understand, we are desperate. We are tired of being constantly thwarted by your interference. I anticipated that you would not believe me. The communicator on the table will let you confirm the truth."

Besides herself with atypical anger, Miss Purity grabbed the communicator and put it up to her ear to confirm Lexie's dastardly plot.

"Debbie! Debbie are you there?" she shouted into the device.

"Miss Purity? Is that you?" came Debbie's voice from the device. "No! Get away, it's a tr-."

The VR headset went black.

Polly Preston was dazed, so caught up in the sim that she had difficulty coming out of the game. She shakily removed the headset, feeling disoriented, and zoned out, almost like she had been in a trance. Where ... where was she?

Luckily, Miss Leather, the CEO of the gaming company, was there to assist along with her two assistants, Mark and Tim.

Towering over the seated Polly, the woman stared with laser-like focus before asking intently, "Are you ok, darling?"

With a genuine look of concern, Miss Leather continued, "I know the experience can be quite over-powering with our new state-of-the-art AI-driven VR gaming units. Some people have a hard time coming back to reality. Do you recall your name?"

"Y-y-yes ... I'm Puh-puh-Polly Puh-puh-Preston" she stammered. It was a game? It had felt so real.

"Yes, that's right, you're Polly Preston. And you volunteered to try out our new gaming experience for us and share your feedback. Do you recall that? Are you ready to give us feedback, darling?"

Polly was slowly coming back down to reality. "Y-yes. Yes, I re-remember. But it felt so real to me."

"Good, darling, so good. Our team has worked so hard on making it seem real. They will be pleased to hear that wonderful testimonial that a little timid thing like you could feel like she was so beautiful and strong like your fantasy girl."

Yes, of course.

Of course, it was just a game. She was just a little timid thing, not some super-powered beauty. Miss Leather was important and strong and intelligent, and could be trusted.

"Now, we want to ask you a few questions about the game world. As you know, our AI builds the game based on your internal fantasies, so each player has a unique experience. My assistants watched on the monitors, and we were amazed at the depth of the world you created. It felt like the Wizard of Oz to see how you put me and my assistants, Mark and Tim, inside your game. I feel flattered."

"Oh. Yes. I guess I just, umm, drew on stuff from around me?"

"Yes, that must be it," Miss Leather responded. "I wonder, though, about your main character. Where did she get all of those ludicrous powers from?"

"Ummm ... I don't know ... it's kind of dumb, really."

"Well, you silly little girl, we expect nothing else from someone such as you. But even still, we're fascinated, so please do tell. And don't forget you signed a legal agreement to share all feedback with us," Miss Leather stated, alarming Polly slightly with the insinuation. Polly also noticed that the two assistants glared at her threateningly.

"And," Miss Leather continued, driving the point home deeper, "what would your little fairy doll think about you going back on your word?"

Not wanting to cause any trouble, and Miss Leather was correct, Polly seemed to recall at some point that she agreed to share the feedback and everything about her game. And, yes, Miss Purity wouldn't go back on her word, so Polly should be strong like her dream.

So she hesitatingly explained Miss Purity's backstory.

"Well, ummm ... I know this will sound like really dumb, but like ... umm ... Miss Purity is like ... pure. Like ... ummm ... you know ... like ... a virgin." Polly felt her cheeks flush with saying it out loud as if she was revealing some deep secret about herself. "And ... ummm ... like ... there is a Council of Purity that, like, you know, gave her powers because she was ... ummm ... a pure virgin ... and, like, has a truly pure and innocent soul."

Miss Leather, Mark, and Tim laughed out loud in derision at this revelation. Their great scorn tore at Polly's remaining confidence, leaving her fragile and more off-kilter.

"You are right, darling; that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." She looked down mockingly at the girl, who squirmed with discomfort under the condescending glare of the trio.

Polly felt deeply embarrassed, ashamed, and struck dumb by this stunningly intelligent, attractive woman's mocking laughter. She felt it was important to impress Miss Leather, and here she was, screwing it up by making up childish stories.

Why was she being so stupid when she knew how important it was to behave for Miss Leather? She couldn't explain it, but with every second that passed, this need to obey and submit to Miss Leather grew deep inside Polly.

Looking down sheepishly with complete remorse, Polly felt her anxiety surfacing as she wanted to please the beautiful and commanding presence looming over her. "Miss Leather, I ... I'm suh-sorry ... I ... didn't mean to ... it juh-juh-just came out like that. I di-di-didn't mean it."

"It's no matter, darling. My silly little mouse. The AI drew upon your fantasies. I do think a girl in her mid-twenties, like you, would want to grow up at some point, though. Please don't tell me you are still a virgin like your little fairy princess in your story?"

Polly felt her cheeks blaze red with shame. And worse, for some reason, she was struck with odd sensations growing through her body that she didn't understand.

Still looking at her feet, unable to even consider looking the powerful Miss Leather directly in the eye, and with the need to please the dominant woman growing alongside her shame, Polly quietly whimpered, "yes."

"What's that, darling? You need to speak up, little mouse. Are you a virgin? At your age? My god. How EMBARRASSING!" Miss Leather laughed, mocking the girl. Mark and Tim chortled alongside her with lecherous looks aimed at Polly. "How absolutely pathetic and embarrassing that would be. Speak up, mouse. Did I hear correctly?"

She wanted to crawl into a hole. She wanted desperately to impress Miss Leather, but she kept disappointing her. The shame continued growing alongside the mysterious feelings she had never felt before.

"Y-yes," she said as loudly as she could muster.

"Yes ...," Miss Leather said expectantly.

Momentarily confused, Polly wasn't sure what was expected but then remembered her manners and her need to please Miss Leather.

"Y-yes, Miss Leather."

"Good girl, Polly. What a good little girl you can be."

The new feelings coursed through Polly suddenly like a bolt of lightning. She gasped out loud with ... happiness? Excitement? Something foreign and unexplainable rushed through her.

Miss Leather smiled down at the girl. "My, my. It appears my little mouse likes being called a good girl?"

Ohhhhhh ... the feelings again. What was that? It felt good but wrong. Like nothing she had ever felt and nothing she was ever meant to feel. She felt her cheeks flush again, but with something other than embarrassment this time. She felt a slight shiver run through her body.

"Oh, you poor darling. My god. Is it possible? No. Surely, no? Have you ever been aroused before, my good girl?"

OOoOOOhhhhhhh ... ooohhhhh ... Polly let out a soft, uncontrollable sigh as the feelings washed over her. She felt an odd pulsing through her body and an ache between her legs. Something was wrong with this. It felt wrong. But it felt so good.

Nodding her head to confirm Miss Leather's suspicion, Polly pleaded, "Mi ... Miss Luh-Leather, I ... nee ... need to guh-go now. Puh-please, Miss. I hav ... have to guh-go."

"Nonsense, darling. We still need to talk about your experience. I wonder if your little virgin doll in your story would keep her powers if she was no longer a virgin?"

Even though it felt wrong to reveal Miss Purity's secrets, Polly knew she had to speak the truth to Miss Leather. Miss Leather was important and strong. Polly was weak and nothing compared to Miss Leather. Polly was a little mouse. Miss Leather was dominant and Miss Leather was everything. Polly must obey Miss Leather. She had to obey Miss Leather.

Feeling sick to her stomach to betray Miss Purity's secrets, but seeing no choice but to behave as a good girl, Polly answered.

"No, Mi ... Miss Leather. Miss Purity only has powers because she is pure of heart, chaste, and virginal. The Council of Purity would strip her of all her powers if she violated those decrees."

A cruel laugh escaped Miss Leather's lips. Polly felt her legs grow weak as she basked in the oddly wonderful feeling found in Miss Leather's derision.

"Oh, such a pathetic little thing, your fantasy girl. So easy to wipe away with the secret laid bare. Darling, you will be such a good girl for me, right?"

oooooohhhhhhhhhhh ... oh gods ... what was happening ... Polly was awash with confusion over these new-found feelings and sensations. She could feel the treasure between her legs throbbing and growing slick. She felt something was horribly wrong and wanted to scream. But the desire to obey Miss Leather grew uncontrollably as Polly's body betrayed her.

"Mi... Miss Leather ... pleeeeease. Something's wrong. Please help me." She looked plaintively to her lovely mistress to help her.

"Oh no, my darling. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is going as planned. Such a good little mouse. Things are going to be so right soon. You'll see. You're going to be such a GOOD GIRL from now on."

Polly fell to the floor, shaking and moaning, feeling her secret treasure flood with what she finally recognized as arousal and desire and pleasure. She would do anything for Miss Leather to feel that indescribable glorious feeling. She felt wrong deep inside, but resisting Miss Leather was impossible.

"Oh my darling, pretty Polly. Yes. Things are going to be so right for all of us. Be a dear now and clean my boots as long as you are down there, won't you dear?"

Confused and feeling disoriented, Polly looked around the room for cleaning supplies of some sort so she could obey Miss Leather's command.

"Oh, little mouse," Miss Leather laughed contemptuously, "so simple-minded. With your tongue, darling. With your tongue. That's a good darling."

Of course, thought Polly. She was so simple-minded sometimes. No wonder she had fantasized about being Miss Purity who was so smart and wise and different than Polly.

Miss Leather was so wonderful, wise, and helpful. Polly crawled over on her hands and knees and tentatively started licking Miss Leather's boot. Once she began, she felt the arousal of obedience kick up several notches and started licking in earnest, up and down the toes of her mistress's boot, feeling her pleasure mounting as she obeyed.

Glancing over to the assistants, Polly felt a tiny burst of excitement at seeing the look of unbridled lust in Markovian's handsome eyes and a touch of terror when she saw the cruelty contorting Tolliver's face into a savage sneer.

Polly lay there, prostrate, obediently licking the delicious boot, looking up at Miss Leather with lust in her eyes, hungering for more words to obey, longing to receive more pleasure and to give in to her desires to serve.

Ignoring the slavering looks of Miss Leather's assistants, Polly knew at that moment. It was time to grow up and put aside her childish fantasies about superheroics and do-gooding.

Pleasing Miss Leather was all she wanted now.

And pleasing Miss Leather was all she could do.

[I have big plans for Miss Purity - if you like this, please consider clicking the heart or reblogging - I sincerely appreciate it! Click here for Part 2]

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[Second image from Betsy Jons, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons]

[gust-jar-simulator]

Anthropology brain demands more fantasy goth subculture analysis. A favorite of mine is the vampire subculture, which would be really fun to apply to any media considering Vampires Are Awesome, but the hilarious thing is the development of the irl vampire subculture as a community almost entirely hinges on Anne Rice’s books and Vampire: The Masquerade. There’s literally no convenient way to translate it.

While people who would be inclined to the subculture existed before those books and games, conventions and then the internet drew those likeminded people together, and they proceeded to structure those new communities around the media that brought them together. The otherkin and therian communities don’t have quite the same quirk, because members tend to share a vaguer, more general interest and focus on introspection moreso than presentation.

If I wanted to make things easier on myself, I would just say “it’s fantasy, literally write vampires”. But if I did that then I wouldn’t be getting my anthropology enrichment. So!

Considering the (knockoff medieval) time period of most Zelda games, I think we’d be looking at something like the early days of the otherkin community at best. If I remember right it was mailing lists. There have always been people who feel slightly to the left of human, and it’s not necessary to have a community to define that, but if we’re here to talk about a very niche goth subculture because I read a couple of vampire Vidow fics then I think Vio would probably have to invent the idea for himself wholecloth, loosely based on observing demons during his time at the Fire Temple as well as anything he could read at the royal library.

Given the fact that Vio is arguably the Link with the least connection to the Original™️, his body was probably straight up conjured by an enchanted sword, and then he proceeded to spend a large amount of time living like a Creature of Darkness™️, I feel like Vio is uniquely situated for an identity crisis. Especially given the traumatic nature of his undercover mission and the need to mimic Shadow’s behavior to survive, in addition to whatever his own inclinations might have been and how they absolutely did not match up with anything the Original Link would do.

The irl vampire subculture might occasionally be witch adjacent, but it is important to note that nobody involved is actually a magical creature. I’m going to leave the debates about the validity of energy feeding versus medical sanguinarians at the door, because my personal interest in bringing it up is the relationship between vampires and their donors, as well as vampires and their cravings. Nobody is going to die from not consuming blood, but there tends to be a notable health benefit not gained anywhere else that may or may not be the placebo effect. The rub, of course, is actually sourcing blood in the first place. The consequences of not feeding are severe enough to make it worth trying, though.

So if I want to make Vio that sort of vampire, it might not even be that he’s having trouble seeing himself as human. If anything, that could be a comfort thing he applies to himself later, especially after Shadow dies. Medical sanguinarians display symptoms very like chronic illness with no clear solution or cause, and that’s the easiest one for me to wrap my head around (though I may try writing an energy vampire thing for fun). Any physical symptoms Vio had while traveling or undercover could have easily been chalked up to stress, or he just didn’t notice at all. Maybe some of the Evil Root Beer was actually blood and Vio drank it to keep his cover, very much liked it, and then decided not to unpack that.

The symptoms would be more obvious during low-stress peacetime, when he’s not constantly in survival mode and has maybe had a few dinners with the other three Links, who don’t seem to be having the same problems. They’re all Link, why aren’t the rest having weirdly appealing cannibalism dreams? Was it something in the metaphorical water, did the Fire Temple do something to him, are the rest just keeping it secret? He doesn’t remember feeling any of this before the split, maybe it’s just something that happens when you turn 16. Like puberty but slightly more awful. Maybe it’s because he’s the darkness in Link, and the longer he stays an individual the more that outs. It’d be very easy to just pile that onto his preexisting fears.

Vio’s a tactician at heart, so I think he’d make a scientific effort of figuring out what to do the second he discovers something that manages the symptoms. Without, of course, telling any of the others. They might have won the day with the power of friendship, but that’s very different from voluntarily being emotionally vulnerable or telling the other 3/4ths of The Hero that something went wrong and you might be a monster. They skin rabbits when they go camping and Vio wants to lick the blood off his fingers, and none of the others seem to.

Red’s just delighted when Vio starts speaking up more in the kitchen, volunteering preferences or even wanting to experiment. Liver, organ meat, slightly rarer steak than the others- those are still pretty human things to eat, you can get them from a butcher and Vio looks less like he’s falling apart at the seams afterwards. Blue might mock him for it once and cause Vio to shut down for a week, or a month, and they might not know why because Vio doesn’t talk but they try to avoid that again.

Depends on your characterization who finally approaches him, I could see an argument for any of them. It’d be a very fun conversation to write, partially because Vio has no frame of reference for wanting to Eat People other than ReDeads and maybe Shadow, though Shadow was oddly civilized about it. He didn’t exactly have a lot of restraint, ever, but I don’t think Shadow would bring up any impulses to bite Hylians because he wanted to keep Vio. He’d still drink blood though, out of fancy cups because he wanted power and also not to freak his personal hero out. He wanted to keep the guy but he wasn’t going to starve for him, and Vio drank the blood too so it was whatever.

(As a background note, I always think the demons being vampires is hilarious because Vaati is sitting in the back going “well okay you can keep a pet This Time because you have weird diet preferences”, meanwhile Shadow isn’t actually biting Vio because he doesn’t want to scare him off. Gay nepotism blood bag hire, and the part that makes sense to Vaati and Ganon isn’t actually even on the table. Baby bat’s first thrall and he’s just a gay disaster with no enthrallment happening actually.)

And thus, to wrap it all up, we give Vio’s character arc a satisfying emphasis by finally having him realize that being honest with people is a good thing actually and he should ask people for help when he needs it instead of slowly going insane, especially since he can actually trust the other Links more than he realizes. They’re not that incompetent, just different, and more importantly of course they’re interested in his wellbeing. It’d be a messy, awkward talk, but a necessary one, and four heads are better than one when it comes to figuring out how to manage what Vio needs, even if they don’t exactly know why he’s like this.

(If you’re curious about medical sanguinarians/“irl vampires”, I highly recommend The Red Cellar for further reading.)

[ticixno]

&& announcing his royal highness, ( ticiano abelardo raphel de léon ), the ( 29 ) year old ( prince ) of ( cuba ). he is often confused with ( tommy martinez ). some say that he is ( irascible, contentious ), but he is actually ( sanguine, prudent ). 

92 Explorer - Post Malone || Creepin’ - Hayley Williams || Monsters - All Time Low || Do Me Right - Gemini  || Level of Concern - twenty one pilots || Lock-Sport-Krock - Nikola Sarcevic || American Candy - The Maine || Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus || Running Out of Time - Paramore|| 

Basics:  First Name:  Ticiano Abelardo Raphel de Léon Age: 29 Birthday: May 19th Astro Sign: Taurus 

Fun Facts:

Ticiano is the complete package until you get him angry. He has a bit of a hothead. A fist first, questions later. 

He is a prized boxer on the island, even though everyone was leery about stepping into the ring with one the prince. 

His second love, aside from Cuba, is agriculture and how that can change the stability and status of a region. He believes that if they can maintain life without the tariff enriched imports that they can begin to really make a stake in the world market. 

Ticiano has one dog named Dallas that he found on the streets of Texas on a trip he made to the United States. 

    Biography

Ticiano Abelardo Raphel de Léon was born in the sweltering spring heat amongst the sweet scent of marisposas in the air; a well needed transition from the sleepy winter. It also marked the end of the de Léon family’s longing for an heir; for he was the first boy to be born and replenish the bloodline. A fact that his mother hoped would transcend into Mexico. Ticiano never fully understood the depths of his mother’s desperation but the burning expectations laid on his shoulders from a young age. The bitter battle for a throne in a world that seemed so far away had never fully been explored but a backdrop for his rearing. His mother, the bright and beautiful second born to the Mexican king, scorched the earth with her talents and unending intelligence. Yet, her shine dimmed in the shadows of her older sister’s position and lack of moral structure. This stain manifested in a way that impacted the family’s tapestry when Arthur was born. His birth was another blemish for Ticiano’s mother who did everything right and got nothing. His birthright as heir to the Mexican and Cuban thrones were offset by a bastard hiding in plain sight. A fact that would forever stick to his soul like a sword set in stone. Ticiano refused to acknowledge it in the presence of his mother; his own cowardice to insulate his importance until he could prove that he was strong enough to ascend to the role of patriarch of this family. He worked diligently to soak up the adoration and encouragement while reserving it for a rainy day. Love didn’t last in the de Léon household, it held no weight over success. Beneath his mother’s tutelage, Ticiano watched quietly the kindling fury that foraged the walls of their lineage. For silence roused confidence is the secrets that these walls spoke, a place for the smoke from their flames to linger and coat his skin with the tools he needed to succeed. 

Aloof and unaffected by luminescence of the quick tempered nature of his distant family, Ticiano dutifully applied himself completely to excelling in his academic while honing his physicality through various activities like boxing, archery, fencing, and cricket (the wonderful perks of rubbing elbows with boarding school snobs). Rising through his studies at the very top of his class, Ticiano gracefully juggled his academic commitments while observing his father’s work around the island. These formative moments provided Ticiano inside knowledge on the political layout of his home, while also providing a strong presence to his future constituents. He created an image for himself with the residents of each province as a laconic young man who would listen to their problems and to provide thoughtful solutions. 

Amongst all of the busied chaos internally, Ticiano found refuge in his relationship with Roxana. She was the crown jewel of their family, despite her being the second born. To him, she was the most important person to bounce his ideas off and to protect against the harshness of living in this family. Their mother’s constant need for perfection could erode the best parts of a person but he refused to allow it to dull his sister’s passions in life. Roxana provided him the calm guidance in moments of his own blown out temper. She reminded him to be mindful of his emotion when gearing up for the fight in and out of the ring. 

Ticiano attended Berkeley University with a degree in Agricultural & Resource Economics with the desire to obtain the knowledge on the business practice to better allocate natural resources and increase profit for the country. Upon returning to Cuba, all of the pieces needed for a smooth transition of power were in place.  Once he graduated, Ticiano committed himself to be the countryman and leader beneath his father and did his best to gain some favor from his Grandfather.

[bluedalahorse]

a personal post about my aromanticism and loving fanfic

So I’m aromantic and asexual and I’m having a moment of introspection. (I’m also procrastinating, to be fair.) I’m going to share my thoughts just to get them down. Maybe this will resonate with you or maybe it won’t. I’m also not sure what the solution is or if I should be looking for one. Who knows?

There’s something you see in aromantic (and aroace) discourse on fanfic and ‘shipping culture, where you have one aro argument that’s like “I’m aro and have no interest in reading about romantic relationships whatsoever; I wish fandom wrote more gen and was less ‘shipping focused.” And then there’s the polar opposite argument, which is “I’m aro and I adore ‘shipping characters and reading about romantic relationships; it’s nice to read about other characters having those feelings even if I would never want or feel that kind of thing in my life.”

I want to address a sort of middle ground. I think I trend toward the “aro who ‘ships my faves and likes a well-executed romance in a story” category, but I’m gonna qualify that. If I’m reading something with a romantic pairing—whether the pairing appears in the story as a part of it or takes absolute center stage—I want the characters outside the pairing to feel three-dimensional and real and have their own unique relationships to the characters in the pairing. Nothing irks me more than say, a BFF or sibling or family member character, who has a complex and lore-filled relationship to one of the romantic leads in canon, getting reduced to a cheerleader puppet who only talks about the main romantic pairing and how great they are. Honor siblings and other family members with side plots. Let BFFs have absolutely shitty days once in a while, so that OTP Person A calls up OTP Person B and says, “Sorry I have to cancel our date tonight, BFF had a shitty day and I gotta be there for them.” And then we get to spend some fanfic time with OTP Person A and their friend in a way that enriches and adds to the overall story.

Going into an example in more depth below, using a canon I haven’t talked about yet…

Note: I am gonna talk positively about Heartstopper for a moment, but it is merely as an example. A lot of what I say about Heartstopper can be applied to other canons and fandoms, so please try to understand it as an illustration of something broader rather than its own particular thing.

Balancing relationship types is one thing the show Heartstopper does really well, in my mind. Nick and Charlie’s romance is of course the heart of the plot, but each of them has other significant relationships in their life. Nick’s mom supports Nick in his dating life, but you get a sense of the depth and history of their mother-son relationship, and they aren’t always fawning about Nick and Charlie’s relationship together. Sometimes they’re watching pirate movies! Meanwhile Charlie and Tao have some serious platonic BFF heartache when Charlie and Nick become romantically involved—but they also work through it and continue to be really important friends to each other. The narrative suggests that maybe Tao could be a little less overtly cranky with Nick, but it never shames him or portrays him as inappropriate or immature for worrying about Charlie getting into a significant romantic relationship. Tao has valid reasons for feeling the way he does—he doesn’t want Charlie to get hurt after what happened with Ben, and Tao doesn’t want to be left behind himself.

Tao’s story would have been so valuable for me to see as an aromantic teenager (who didn’t have the word aromantic to describe myself) who was always worried that my friends were going to leave me and I was going to end up alone. I would have known that it was normal and not a sign of immaturity to feel sad and fearful when my friends started dating and had these new relationships they were fluttery about. I would have had scripts for talking through my feelings with my friends and reaffirming our friendship with one another. As it was, I turned a lot of negative feelings inward on myself, and I tried often to push people away before they could push me away. I think if I’d had more characters in my life like Tao and Charlie, it would have done me good. (And no, Tao isn’t aromantic, but that’s important in its own way. Alloromantics also deserve complex friendships in their lives that provide support for them but also require an investment in time and attention! Allos are allowed to care about their friendships too!)

—also like. Tao has stuff going on his life that doesn’t relate to Nick/Charlie. He loves movies! To the point of having obnoxious opinions. He hates the MCU and also sports. (Same.) He’s developing a crush on Elle. He’s at the age where his mom is a little embarrassing and tells him to leave the door of his room open. He comes up with verbal comebacks when he’s being bullied because he doesn’t like bullies but he also doesn’t like physical fighting. He’s got ridiculous hair and a hat. We could probably get more even depth to his character but like, when he’s in a scene he feels real to me. Not like a cardboard cutout.

Now, I enjoy Heartstopper’s canon a lot. I’ve never read a fic for it. I have written some fic for Heartstopper (that I really need to finish.) Part of the reason I haven’t gone deeper into the Heartstopper section on AO3 is I really value that canon dynamic where friendships and romances feel balanced and the secondary characters feel like they have a three-dimensional existence outside of the Nick/Charlie main pairing, and I want that balance in a fic, too. I’m a little worried that if I do go looking, there’s going to be a lot where romance overwhelms a story that I already feel has this good balance of romance and not-romance.

But I’m not sure how to search or filter for the balance I want. Moving away from Heartstopper specifically (because like I said, I haven’t gone into the Heartstopper section on AO3) sometimes I’ll be looking for fics in a fandom, and I’ll try try to look up character study for a secondary character, or something from a secondary character’s POV. Secondary characters are often my favorite characters in a canon. But that’s no guarantee that the fic isn’t going to be 150% centered on a romance. It’s common to see fics where it’s a main pairing/more popular pairing through that secondary character’s eyes, or the secondary character will be involved in a romance of their own and the fic will be overwhelmed by that romance.

Every time I try to bring this up to another human, I get story recommendations like…

Here, do you want this story with no romance in it whatsoever, like we’re not even acknowledging that anyone could have romantic feelings, to the point where things feel kinda borderline queerphobic? (Most of the canons I like have multiple queer characters and queer romances, but also lots of friendships between queer people.)

Here, do you want this story where the romance is very sweet at all times and there is zero conflict and zero sex? (Conflict and sex are not the problem, my friend. They are not the thing I’m trying to get rid of.)

Here, do you want this story that purports to be centered on a friendship or family relationship for one of the members of the OTP, but it’s just a family member or friend fawning over how much they love the OTP and think they’re sooooo sweet and romantic?

None of which is what I’m actually looking for. Like, how do you filter for fanfic that isn’t really strict genfic but also doesn’t feel 150% centered on a main pairing gazing into one another’s eyes all the time? Maybe there’s an obvious way to search for it and I’m just missing it. This is why I wish AO3 had a way of distinguishing between “this pairing (romantic or not) is one of the central focuses of the fic” and “this pairing shows up in the fic and feels like an organic part of the universe but the writing isn’t overwhelmed by it.”

Fandom tends to foreground sex and romance in fanfic and fanart and meta, which is one of the things I find joyful and at times a little bit subversive about fandom. Like, I genuinely love us! I have had so many OTPs! I have done some very enthusiastic and strange things in my life because of ‘ships! And, at the same time, it can get overwhelming when some of my favorite secondary characters are depicted as purely ancillary to a romance between romantic leads in a story, or if the protagonist of a fic has nothing in their life that isn't somehow partner-involved. Like… we can have romantic stories where this isn’t the case. Right? I’m not making this up?

In conclusion, I don't want romantic love to conquer all. Instead I want to stop thinking of romantic love in terms of conquest, and start thinking of it in terms of coexistence with other loves.

Some notes that I couldn’t work into the structure of this post, but am just adding at the bottom in bullet points:

One of my favorite tropes in media doesn’t really have a name, but it’s when the best friend character and the love interest character find out they have a ton in common, and end up using that knowledge to team up and (lovingly) mess with the protagonist. More of that please!

I wonder to what extent this shapes my interest in problematic/fraught pairings in a canon (coughsargustcough) because those stories by their nature necessitate the weighing of different types of love against one another and ask the protagonist to carefully consider their values re: relationships. The thing is that in a problematic/fraught relationship the results of this weighing are almost always gonna be tragic. But I think more functional, less fraught pairings—the kind you root for to stay together instead of enjoying as something that leads to a glorious trainwreck breakup—could also benefit from this weighing of relationships and values. Because those negotiations between relationships don’t always have to be tragic. Most humans who have romantic partners can also have friends and family and colleagues they value. Those processes of balancing out the people in your life are part of being human and existing among other humans.

I wonder what extent this has been shaped by a shift over the years in genres I enjoy. I used to be much more into tracking like, Big Genre Stuff (think Doctor Who) but now I’ve gotten more interested in stories focused on interpersonal dynamics and characters coming to understand their own identities in relation to all the people around them. I used to be able to look for like, “casefic” for a procedural show and get a balance of kissing and crime solving I enjoy. Also in Les Mis fandom I somehow found the people who wrote the right balance of romance, friendship, and extremely nerdy historical puns + footnotes, so that was awesome. But like… in canons already focused on interpersonal relationships, how do you ask for more interpersonal relationships? Or calibrate the right balance of interpersonal relationship types using the AO3 search and tagging system?

This feels really complicated when I weigh my aromantic queer identity against others’ more allromantic queer identities, because I know that seeing all the romancey things (first dates! kisses! anniversary gifts!) represented for their pairings can be really empowering and helpful and full of joy. I know that “care more about platonic friendship!” can be weaponized as a microaggression when homophobic people use it against queer people ‘shipping queer ‘ships, so I don’t wanna come across that way. At the same time I’ve also struggled with amatonormativity in queer spaces, even when I’ve found that queer people on the whole tend to value friendship a lot more than straight people. So like, rest assured, I would like to see the cute romantic anniversary gifts happen too! I really would. IT’S CUTE. I just wanna see that balanced out against like, best friend characters who feel like real people and have their own stuff going on, even when they support a fic’s lovey-dovey protagonist. Does any of this make sense or am I just rambling at this point?

Oh, Blue. Write the fanfic you want to see in the world! Doing that already. Doing my best, anyway. Still wish I knew how to find more of the fics I was looking for.

[racingtoaredlight]

In our lifetimes...(plus rambling)

We'll hear Chloe Chua described as the best violinist of her era. She's 17. Seventeen.

By prodigy standards, she's already blown the doors off. Prodigies aren't all cut from the same cloth...an oboe prodigy is still looked at like a plowhorse because of the instrument they play. Is this fair? Yes.

Prestige instruments are different. There are dozens and dozens and dozens of violin and piano prodigies that are so freakishly talented, at such freakishly young ages, there's an actual crowd to get lost in because there's money to be made.

At your elite college programs, almost every student will be a prodigy...and these aren't the ones to watch.

The ones to watch are the instructors' students that aren't of college age yet. The ones which normal rules don't apply. A little later in the post, there's a clip of Chua with a couple of insanely talented violin freaks. She, 14 then, completely humiliates them.

This is something I haven't been able to shake since last week.

Time is the most valuable commodity a musician has. Yes, time is malleable...but there's only so much you can do against pure, uncut talent.

At my lesson last week, I talked to my main teacher about this. He said, straight up, the only possible way that I could become a concert guitarist at 40 is by quitting my job and devoting the next decade to practice. He wasn't being a dick, he was being honest.

He does not think that's the best route for me, his student, to take as a musician. He's saying this because he was concerned with how much dedication I've put towards classical guitar over the past 9 months, and is trying to logically warn me.

And it's been hard, depressing even, to take all that in. Because he's right.

The two violinists in the video are incredibly, incredibly talented. Their YouTube channel is fucking great, and it's clear that not only do they work hard, but they truly enjoy the practice and grind that comes along with it. They started with extreme amounts of natural talent, were incubated in environments that would enrich and cultivate it, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for them as musicians.

And they...when you watch them side by side, it's obvious that they're AA players going up against a future Hall of Famer. What she toys with, they labor over. I'm starting at an earlier point here, but if you have a few minutes, watch this section...

Don't think they don't know this either...

I started this before the main part...you get genuine reactions here, not hammed up, exaggerated for YouTube reactions. This section is telling because it's not fireworks, it's more meat...the parts you gotta grind through. And she just breezes through these parts like nothing.

But then at 15:00, this shit comes.

Now these are the fireworks.

Watch after those awful reactions...watch how they both are tripping over themselves and struggling to play something outrageously difficult that she almost barely put any effort into. That whole thing needs to be perfect...the guy on the left basically sat out the 2nd and 3rd last bars to prepare himself for that final glissando.

Then watch her at the beginning of this section again. Effortless. Routine.

With time, those two guys could get this section down just as well as she could. Probably within an hour or two, given their levels of talent. And that's the depressing part...

She's already ahead. She's already got it down. She's using her time for things that these guys won't be tackling for years down the road. They're already putting in full days of practice...how the hell are they legitimately supposed to catch up to someone like her?

It's the point my teacher was trying to make. The amount of time to put in to try and match someone with this level of natural talent, is insanity. And, ultimately, unnecessary.

But looking at yourself as a musician in comparison with people like Chua? Man...humbling doesn't even begin to describe it.

I've been reading some anecdotes of musicians in this freak tier lately. A few of my favorite ones were Mitsiko Uchida sight reading a Mozart piano sonata on stage, and Glenn Gould sight reading the Grieg Piano Concert (AWESOME), putting it down at the end going, "it's not for me."

I like the sight reading ones because they're a synthesis of everything...reading, theory, technique, emotion, psychology...and sight reading pieces like those is FUCKING INSANE. But what does this look like in practice?

Here's one of the greatest pianists in the world, Valentina Lisista. She's informally regarded as the person who sets the standard for modern Rachmaninoff...this is about as high of status as a pianist can reach.

Below is her sight reading Adinsell's Warsaw Concerto in practice two times through. Note the tablet to her right...she's sight reading along with another recording of it. Note #2...she barely looks at the score the second time through because she has an eidetic memory.

Just sit there and let this marinate for a second.

Not only does Valentina Lisista have hands large enough to play Rachmaninoff, not only does she have the technique, not only does she have the skill and instincts to translate it into music...she has a photographic memory AND CAN ALMOST PLAY AN ENTIRE TEN MINUTE CONCERTO BACK AFTER GOING THROUGH THE SCORE ONLY ONCE.

I mean...what the fuck?

PS...here's a clip of Chua doing something very similar with the TwoSet guys, burning through an etude meant to challenge. Barely struggles the first time, owns it the second, third time she's just playing with it like a cat plays with a mouse.

[deadboyfriendd]

I’m sorry but this has to be said: Eddie is not a sex-god Casanova charmer. He is three raccoons in a trench coat at best. He is gross, and icky, and awkward but God he loves hard.

Eddie would go at a rotisserie chicken standing at the counter with his bare hands. His enclosure lacks enrichment and that rotisserie chicken is it.

He’s messy. Every surface in his room is sticky, covered in dust, or both. That’s if you can even get to it. There are socks in there that would probably become sentient and walk away if you let them sit long enough. There’s also probably food rotting somewhere. You have to follow the boy around with a wet rag and Wayne warns you as such.

He stinks. He doesn’t wash his clothes. He barely washes himself. He smokes weed and cigarettes and both of those things reek. That jacket and vest are his safety clothes and I can 100% guarantee you that he doesn’t wash them. He is also okay wearing clothes that are stained as long as they’re not completely soiled. Definitely has holes in his socks and underwear that are way beyond being okay.

He thinks is really funny to open his mouth and show you what he’s chewing on the second you tell him to stop talking when his mouth is full. He’s also the type to lick you.

As loud and obnoxious and outspoken as he is, he’s super non-confrontational. As his resident gf, it’s your responsibility to tell the waiter that he didn’t want pickle on that. Or schedule his doctors appointment. You also have to lie to him to get him to go. This also applies to the dentist.

He likes candy and especially the blue kind. His tongue and lips are always stained blue from whatever the hell he was eating like a child.

He also has ADHD and cannot regulate his food intake. He will eat so fast and so much until he makes himself sick. You are constantly reminding him to slow down.

Also with ADHD he can’t regulate his sleep. He just sleeps in spurts of random cat naps at this point. He can also sleep anywhere, but his favorite place is his van.

Loves a good gas-station pickled hot sausage thing. I cringe at the very thought. His burps smell like that and monster energy and it radiates off of him and travels everywhere.

He shits with the door open and pees while you brush your teeth. His excuse is that “everyone does it” but in all honesty he thinks is really funny when you’re grossed out.

He’s always dirty and always has shit in his hair. You’re constantly pulling shreds of paper and leaves and probably also dandruff out of his hair.

There’s probably old condoms in the trash can in his room that haven’t been thrown out in a while.

He also will kiss you after a blowjob or eating you out. He literally doesn’t care. Tongue and all.

The stains on his sheets? Honestly he was right. He doesn’t know what they are.

And he might be gross and sticky and genuinely kind of icky, but when he loves, he does it with his entire being:

If he hasn’t seen you in a while, he’ll run and plow you into a hug with his full force. He doesn’t know his own strength and will probably take you out.

This extends to play-wrestling, tickling you until you can’t breath and then eventually a gangly arm will probably elbow you in the chin or something and he’ll spend the rest of the afternoon nearly in tears apologizing now matter how much it didn’t hurt.

He doesn’t pick up well on social cues and sometimes can’t decipher what appropriate affection is. On more than one occasion he has slinked into the living room in front of Wayne, lifted your shirt up over your chest, shoved his head into the skin of your tummy, and pulled the shirt back down without saying anything.

He also likes to grab you by the hips and press you into his chest or wrap his arms around your shoulders and start kissing your neck while you’re mid-conversation. People get distracted because he’s so into it.

He’s vocal about what you do in bed and also vocal while he’s in bed. There’s nothing discreet and nothing left up to the imagination with him.

But he also doesn’t go to sleep without telling you how much he loves you every night. Even if he’s half asleep or you’re completely out.

When you started coming to the trailer he tried cleaning up. He really did. He just got overwhelmed and distracted and offered to take you out instead.

He spends hours putting little traces of you in his room. Polaroids, Knick-knacks, even music posters of your favorite bands.

He’s very tentative and doting in bed. He’s huge on consent and is always trying to gauge how you feel. He’s always asking questions about what feels good and what he needs to do better. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

He has to feel you. He wants his skin to touch you at all times. He wants to crawl into your skin and live there. It doesn’t even have to be sexual. He just needs you close.