#like a sort of 'why bother with gender when i'm making stars'

[sesamenom]

you said we could bother you... ever consider transfem maglor?

hm, I don't really have much in the way of gender/orientation headcanons for most elves, but I feel like if anything I see him more as the "I have bigger problems and also a sword" brand of agender, if that makes sense?

[dilatorywriting]

59 Leona, it'd take a lot for him to admit but he would say it eventually. (Also I know you'd recognize me but I'm shy, so anon it is)

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 59: "People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You are nice, and you are stupid. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes you’re nice because you’re stupid, and sometimes you do stupid things because you’re too nice for your own stupid, stupid good. And it drives Leona half insane.

Which it shouldn’t, because nice, stupid people like you are just as annoying as his brother. Goody-two-shoes with buttoned vests and sparkly, star-shaped stickers on their term papers.

“Did you remember your homework?”

Leona flicked his tail in your face and you scrunched your nose over your notebook.

“Well?”

“Of course I remembered,” he scoffed, lazing back against the roots of one of his favorite trees. This spot used to be so much quieter, so much more peaceful, before you decided to trail after him like a duck quacking for its mother.

“Did you do the homework?” you clarified, and Leona rolled his eyes.

You sighed and starting ruffling around in your bookbag. “I brought a spare copy of the worksheet. You’re going to drive Ruggie insane, y’know. If he winds up stuck with you for another year because you failed for not turning in assignments.”

“Yeah. Sure. Another three-hundred-and-sixty-five days to rifle through my wallet. Worst news of his life.”

You huffed good naturedly and handed him the sheet of crisp, white copy paper and a pen. “Get to work, Kingscholar.”

“Oh?” he drawled, closing his eyes and settling back, loose limbed and all long, lean leisure, against the tree trunk. Clearly ready for an afternoon snooze. “Make me.”

You sighed again and reached over to flick your own well-used pen against his ear. It twitched under your fingers—soft, and tufted. The finest of the pale, tan fur brushing up against your fingertips. “Fine. Be that way. See if I bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” he scoffed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sounding resigned and foolishly fond. “I probably will.”

See? Stupid. So easy to manipulate. So willing to let yourself be squashed under his clawed thumb. It was a wonder you’d managed to survive in this school at all. Nevertheless by clinging onto the coattails of someone like him. He’d never made anyone’s existence easier a day in his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, just because you were too soft-hearted and slow to see a looming predator for what it was.

“Just give me that stupid fucking paper,” he snapped, sitting upright and swatting away your poking pen with a sneer. You laughed into your palms like a secret—bright, and merry, and dumb as a fucking rock.

“Whatever you say, Leona.”

.

.

You’d handled his Overblot with a strange sort of aplomb that at first Leona had attributed to perhaps a lingering, hidden confidence that he’d just never bothered to unearth. You were just some herbivore, and even the littlest rabbits could bite back when you put them in a corner. But then he’d come to the decision that that easy conviction was just another symptom of your rampant stupidity.

“I know you guys don’t want to hurt me, or any of us. Not really,” you shrugged around a wad of cotton—the blood dripping from your nose slowly drying up to a tacky, sticky dribble. Leona gaped at you outright.

That was your grand explanation. For why you’d been so eager to charge forward when he’d collapsed in a pool of inky nightmares and self-loathing. And the very same reason apparently thatyou’d felt so comfortable rushing forward to treat Azul Ashengrotto’s blubbering, hysterical, breakdown with the same urgency.

“That octo-prick would have ripped you in half,” he sneered, fingers twitching a nervous rhythm against his palms as he watched the nurse wrap another layer or bandages around your head.

You shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

You were going to give him an aneurism.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled, ignoring the horrible, twisty thing curling like bile through his chest. “And I’m not going to bother paying for some self-sacrificing idiot’s funeral.”

Another shrug.

“That’s alright,” you hummed, a soft sort of crooked smile on your mouth. “Would’ve been a waste of money anyways.”

Leona didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Surely because your stupidity had reached such a fever pitch that it was no doubt contagious, and he needed to protect his far superior and more valuable brain. Not because the image of you smiling and nodding along to his declarations that he wouldn’t put the effort into mourning your death had soured something so deep in his gut that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to scrape it out.

.

.

When he received a letter from home asking him to return for some shitty coronation nonsense for his equally shitty brother, Leona had debated just skipping it outright. Who was going to stop him? You?

Well. Yes, apparently.

“It sounds important,” you hummed, peering over his shoulder at the neat, formal scrawl of the summons. “You should go.”

He snorted. “I don’t want to be there, they don’t want me to be there. What’s the point.”

You frowned, brow crinkling in the middle.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said, perplexed. “They wouldn’t write to you if that was the case.”

Leona snorted, eyes darting away to glare bitterly off into the corner. “Not like they have a choice.”

“Well then you don’t have a choice either,” you argued, firm. “I’ll go with you. See? It says you can have a plus one. You can camp out in your fancy, princey, bedroom. And I can siphon you snacks from the fancy, princey hors d'oeuvres tables. That way we both win. You get to be a reclusive asshole and rub the fact that that you still went in everyone’s faces, and I can get access to some tasty, royal food that I’ll probably never be able to afford again for the rest of my life.”

“Should’ve known you’d be like Ruggie—only using me for the free food,” he sighed, melodramatic and obviously put on.

“Well, also because I thought you could use the emotional support,” you added, a touch too soft and far too genuine. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear that bit.”

“You’re right,” he scoffed, turning onto his side to hide the strange, miserable heat pricking at his skin. “Don’t ever say corny shit like that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you grinned, flicking at his ear, and Leona added another mental tab to his never-ending list of reasons that you were really far too brainless to keep functioning at all.

.

.

You were nice, and you were stupid. And Seven, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My brother hasn’t ever brought someone to one of these events before,” Falena had said, to your face. Idiot to idiot communication.  

“I didn’t give him much of an option,” you’d chirped, perfectly pleasant. “I don’t think he wants me anywhere near here, to be fair. Or around him in general. But I’m like a cockroach. Can’t get rid of me.”

And Falena had laughed. Because he was terrible. And said, “I’m sure he must care about you very much, little cockroach.”

And then because you were more terrible, you laughed back and said very assuredly, “Oh, not at all.”

Which was—was—

“Do you really think that?” he snapped, once the two of you were alone. And you blinked back at him with wide, owlish eyes.

“Think what?”

Think at all,he wanted to sneer, but just glared silently and bitterly into the middle distance—fighting the nonsensical, irritated swishing of his tail.

But you just kept staring at him. Like he was the moron here. Which was unacceptable.

“Look,” he frowned, sharp and miserable. “I get it. People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. Whatever gods exist out there were playing a shitty fucking joke on you when they dropped you in my lap. But you’re stuck with me. So stop—” he bit out, fighting that awful, twisty thing in his gut that never seemed to fully go away. “Stop talking like I can’t stand you.”

“…oh,” you mumbled, whisper quiet—that wide, startled gaze flicking away in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, sharp, and you snorted a laugh that seemed to surprise even you.

“You’re stuck with me too then, y’know,” you said after a long moment. “Even when I make you grumpy.”

“You don’t make me grumpy. I am grumpy. You make me—” he cut off quick, eyes darting away petulantly and an absolutely unfair heat rising along his cheekbones.  

“Itchy,” you piped in, and he gaped at you in shock.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, awkward, and reached up to wiggle your fingers. “Cockroach. Many legs. Squirming. Itchy.”

“Never say any of those words again.”

You laughed into your palm—inelegant and a touch too loud. Leona felt his lips quirk.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment, once your giggles were a bit more under control. And leaned forward quick as a whip to press a nervous peck against his cheek. “For being kind to me.”

Kind.

Leona reached up to press a hand against the too-warm skin with a terrible, unfamiliar sensation in his head not unlike the fuzzy, white drone of TV static. And a horrible thought managed to filter its way through the floating, buzzing sensation curling through the whole of him.

Oh, fuck. It is contagious.

.

.

[aintgonnatakethis]

4 months post top surgery

Am happy with the scars and flatness but not happy with the lump under my right arm, the pain I am in on that side, or the dismissal I have received from both the surgeon and the gender clinic over this issue. Further discussion below picture.

10 weeks after surgery I begin to develop the lump under my right arm. I have a scheduled phone app with a Senior Name Professional at the GC, who encourages me to get in contact with my surgeon right away. I do so, and am asked to come in for an app.

The surgeon was rude and dismissive about the problem. I had (on his instruction) been wearing compression tape on the scars 24/7 since the post-op, but still he demanded to know why I hadn't been stretching, specifically telling me I should be raising my arms straight over my head and stretching, which is the 101 of Do Not Do after top surgery. When I said this, he asked me who told me that. I replied with the name of my doctor at the GC and he snapped "She's not a surgeon. Who are you going to listen to?" At the post-op he also said that any of the dissolvable stitches that hung around a further week could just be pulled out. This seemed like a fucking stupid thing to do so I didn't and it was a further 6 weeks before they went away on their own.

He mentioned liposuction in passing and then told me "I think you're exaggerating your symptoms due to your anxiety".

I went to my GP soon after who immediately diagnosed me with muscle splinting, which is where the muscle around a wound locks up to protect the wound and then has trouble relaxing again; apparently very common for invasive surgery of the torso but something the surgeon never mentioned to me. My GP gave me muscles relaxants (2mg Diazepam 3 times a day for 2 weeks).

During my second follow appointment with the surgeon he didn't bother to check my range of movement and said my pain was caused by a damaged tendon that could take up to a year to heal. When I showed him that the pain was only present when the fatty tissue put pressure on the tendon he said he "didn't know why that was".

I speak to my SNP again and they agree I shouldn't be in pain and share my concerns on how I've been treated. They say they'll get me an app with my GC doctor and a 2nd opinion from another top surgeon.

A week later they email to say I'm going to get neither, as the GC doctor has already made up their mind based solely on the surgeon's recommendation. They attach the letter the surgeon sent.

"he is fixed on the appearance" "He seems to claim that this is causing pain" "he appears to be still concerned and dissatisfied with the appearance"

I have made it very clear to all parties involved that I am very happy with how everything looks, and the dismissal (and let's be real, accusation of making my pain up) smacks of misogyny - oh the dumb women couldn't possibly know when she's actually in pain. I feel this is backed up by him telling me "you need to learn to appreciate your new body" and rolling his eyes when I asked if I should change in my diet post-op to ensure the best recovery. Discussed previously here.

"I think he needs to glean support to help his cognitive adjustment to his outcome"

Anyone who can tell me what this means gets a gold star. Also who the fuck talks like this?

After this I make an app with my GP, who also agrees I shouldn't be in pain. They emailed my surgeon before my 2nd follow up but haven't received a response. They said they will email both my surgeon and GC in an attempt to get things sorted.

In the meantime they've prescribed me a second round of muscle relaxants, this time at a stronger dose (5mg Diazepam 3 times a day for 2 weeks) to see if it will fix the problem.

My GP should not have to be providing post-op care and they're the only person involved I don't feel let down by.

[drgarrisonandpaul]

My Issue With Mask De Masculine...

MINORS DNI, SOME OF THESE ARE NSFW BECAUSE I HAVE ISSUES

The issue is that I'm obsessed, and now I'm gonna dump headcanons on you in hopes it gets me in the mood to write for other characters

Under his mask is the same bright, baby-faced dude but with freckles, and I wanna say cerulean blue eyes. Just a nice vivid, mid-toned, same shade as gatorade-type of blue.

He has THIS hair. Short, messy mohawk, and in the back there's a little star shaved into it

Mans loves fighting but hates conflict, why be so dramatic about it? Just fight me!! I think that's why he (SPOILERS) gets so pissed and drops his act at the end of his fight with Renji. Renji is just DOGGING him, both verbally and physically, so much that it feels personal and he is NOT up for that

Mask and James sleep in bunk beds and treat their room like a college flat, that room is MESSY. I mean- sure, the floor is clear of items, but there's crumbs everywhere, it's darkened because they don't bother taking off their shoes, and the dresser, desk, and nightstand are very casually covered in dishes, papers (like the documents he doesn't read), and little items and trinkets that James brings around. The dishes get taken out once every few days, but that's the most of the cleaning that happens

Big boy loves a glitter beard (or rather, a glitter mustache), he does one every holiday. There is always going to be glitter on his bed, clothes, walls, carpet, everywhere. It is an eternal curse, and he finds it hilarious

Mask prefers a partner with chihuahua energy. Short and short-tempered, doesn't matter the gender. (because we love an Omnisexual king) This way, he can feel like a big, strong, masculine man, but also have someone fight his verbal battles for him (because again, he hates conflict but loves a fight)

More likely than not, he's gonna fall in love at the gym or during any sort of training. Seeing and hearing a small, angry person beat the ever-living shit out of their opponent just turns on the cheerleader in this man, which is more likely than not what he's gonna want in a relationship. You're his cheerleader as is he is yours

NSFW ZONE

However, that's not to say that falling in love is required. I can imagine Mask being pretty promiscuous when he wants to be because it inflates his ego and makes him feel wanted and attractive. If you show a certain amount of interest, dangling the proverbial line in his face, he's gonna take it HOOK. AND. SINKER.

Due to the aforementioned glitter-mustache obsession and the extension of his room and bed being constantly shimmering with residual glitter, if you sleep with him, everyone will know. There's only one class of people in the Silbern that shine brighter than the rest, and those people are just Mask's previous lovers

He likes to grip and grope. He feels like a very grabby person, not constantly, just randomly throughout the day, during sex, or during snuggling. He'll adjust rough/gentle depending on the partner, but either way, you best believe you're gonna get grabbed

AHEM. Size difference kink.

Speaking of size, I think he's average, between 4-5 inches and very proud and confident about it. You don't want this? Cool. Byyyyeee~

He likes it when his partner power-bottoms, getting to sit back and watch them do their thing with that big, stupid grin on his face

He especially likes it if said power-bottoming partner is inexperienced and clumsy, trying to climb over him and hoist themselves up by gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. It's cute

At the end of it, when it's more sloppy and tired, Mask is probably gonna hold you down for leverage, pressing your face into the pillows and letting out happy, growling chuckles at the sound of your muffled voice

Likes to make a show out of stripping down, flexing and posing around like a big goofy idiot as he shows you the real 'star flash'

Probably not great with his hands, but definitely good with his mouth. Again with the gripping thing, holding your thighs firmly around his face and laughing at the sight of your melted form once he's done

Definitely not serious in bed. It's just a funny act to him! Especially with all the sounds it can make and how cute you look when he makes you beg for it

Ok, that's all of my depravity, BYYYYEEE

[oathena11-writes]

Thursday thoughts

I love seeing all the different ways people write my favorite characters. But there is a problem. The way I write Quinlan is definitely not the way most write him. And that is fine! Everyone has different interpretations and that's great! 

It just can be really jarring when people write something about him that doesn't work with my hcs and I have to take a moment to remind myself that there really isn't too much to canon, and on top of that, I built my hc off of the one episode of clone wars, and posts and fanfics I read.

At this point, I entirely have my own version of him in my mind. Like a lot of people I project a lot onto characters when I write.

In Quinlan, I put in a lot of my personal experience with what appears on the outside is not what it seems. Once I get comfortable, I can be A Lot. I try to be respectful of boundaries, but if people are not clear, I tend to toe the line. I always lead with my worst self when I realize I'm making friends because I don't want to be hurt later when I go just a little too far for them. 

I write that with Quinlan. He is a Jedi. He is good at his job- in the one episode of Clone Wars he was serious when it counted. So, why would someone like that be playful and unprofessional during a mission otherwise? I have gone with a few reasons-including that he likes to be underestimated. But the one I like using for why he behaves that way outside the job is similar to me- he wants to see who can handle him and who can't. 

Honestly, I think I give him a lot of my more hyperactive symptoms of ADHD and give him a bunch of insecurities underneath it because he's aware how people view him, maybe even been hurt by it, but it's also just who he is.

I like writing Quinlan as agender, even if it never plays a part in the story. That's because I realized in the summer of 2021 (right when I was seriously getting into writing Star Wars fanfic) that I am agender myself, and Quinlan seems just like the sort of person to not care about gender and be perfectly comfortable in his skin regardless (like me) as long as he dresses the way he likes. 

I don't intentionally write characters as aroace, but being aroace I don't get those who are not, so it does influence how I write characters, even when I'm not intending to write them as aro or ace.

I do love Quinlan as his own character, as the character I have built. He is far more than what I project of my experiences. It's just fun to write characters who internalize issues and struggle that way.

But I do think about it a lot. How differently I choose to write Quinlan compared to others. How it's not the popular fanon in many ways. Does that contribute to how much notice my fics get? Do I get less people viewing my fics because they don't like how I write Quinlan? Or others? Is that why sometimes I just don't seem to get comments? 

And yeah, that bothers me. But in the end, I'm writing what makes me happy and sharing it on the chance that others will like it too.

It doesn't matter what others think, as long as they're not being mean to me for my choices. 

Everyone's entitled to their opinions after all.

This is just something that crosses my mind from time to time.

[sunny6677]

Flower Boy

A Sodapop x Male! Reader

CHAPTER 1: A Customer.

TW FOR STORY: IMPLIED HOMOPHOBIA, HOMOPHOBIA, INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA, PROFANITY, MENTIONS OF PEOPLE GOING MISSING, JOHNNYS DEATH.

TW FOR CHAPTER: None.

Disclaimer: The first few chapters take place before the story even begins, so Johnny is still alive at this current time in the story.

----------------------

You ain't ever see too many men walkin' around here not causin' rumbles or not gettin' into fights with any Greasers or Socs.

Those Greasies and those Socies or whatever had always been rivalin' one another, no matter the gender; gettin' into verbal disputes and rumblin' with one another like someone from an insane asylum.

Yet here was I, neither a Socie or a Greasie. Some would consider me a Socs, but I think I'd consider me an actual normal person.

Ya see, my mother here, see, she had above average money but she wasn't rich or anythin'. My father owned a car, and me and my siblings had enough food to be fed.

The Socies were rich folk; folk who ain't ever have to worry 'bout what they need to do for a livin' or nothin'. All they have to do is ask their parents, and they can bet away with anythin'.

The Greasies, or Greasers; were among the poor folk. Greasy hair, with usually jackets.

As different as they treated eachother, for me, they weren't so different.

I can see the way they act around eachother, the sunset is clear enough. Different as they think the other is, they still set just about the same.

As for me, I'm among the wise men who don't get into fights and drink beer for funsies like a total bozo.

I'm 16 years old and I'm workin' at a flower shop downtown called Floral Heavens. I ain't too fond of the greasies and the socies who pass by callin' me 'Flower Boy', since they seem to think me workin' at a flower shop makes me less of a man somehow.

I ain't bothered by 'em though. When they're all in their nursing homes in the near future and have to be cared for due to their alcoholic problems, I'll learn to grow outta my annoyance for their meaningless insults, i'm sure.

But as for this here story I'm about to tell ya; let me tell ya now, this little Greasie here, see, was the only Greasie I didn't find myself wantin' to shoot myself with.

And how this story started was easy.

Ya see, I was doin' my normal stuff-- i clocked in and gave anyone who came in to check out the flowers or buy some a warm greetin' like I always did.

The shop here, see, was like a total greenhouse. The sunlight would peek in from the windows, givin' it a warm aura of some sorts.

Some flowers would be stuck in their pots, and some were strung along the walls for decoration. People here loved the atmosphere, and I'm pretty sure my boss knew that damn well.

It was upon one Saturday evenin' a certain man walked in. I looked up, and realized it was one of those damn Greasies.

I was wonderin' though-- what on earth was a Greasie doin' in a flower shop? Maybe he was buyin' somethin' for his girlfriend? Did he even have one?

What was kinda off about 'em was his looks. With his luscious dark gold hair and those dark brown eyes of caramel, it was a wonder that he was even real. He had a goofy grin on his face that I couldn't help but grin back at as he walked in with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, pal-- whatcha here for? You buyin' somethin' for a honey of yours?" I asked, smilin' at his weird movie star type looks.

His hair shimmered in the sunlight reflectin' from the window as he stared into my eyes and told me; "Yep.. now what have ya got, sir? You have any daisies?"

"Why sure, I believe we do-- wouldn't ya normally be buyin' a rose for a honey o' yours though?" I asked, while turnin' to go look for the daisies that were layin' off somewhere.

Even though I was no longer facin' 'em, I could hear his smile. "Nah, daisies are her favorite. I wanna make her happy, so i'm buyin' her one."

"Mm-- I see. Ya want a bouquet of 'em?"

"Yep."

I got a bouquet of daisies. I didn't know why, but I felt a lil' happy. It had been a while since I saw someone buy somethin' different for a sweetheart of theirs. It made my boredom quite less persistent with this work environment.

I walked up to the counter, and handed 'em to that boy with a smile.

"That'll be a dollar. People don't want 'em often, so they're less pricey."

He grinned with a giggle, and checked his pockets while sayin; "Oh yeah? Well I betcha if my girl ever came up here, you'd be loaded with tons of moneys with how much she'd buy."

"Oh really? That'd be real nice of her. Maybe if ya take her up here sometime, she could lend me a twenty with how much she'd be willin' to pay for."

"Heh, you betcha. I'm curious, I didn't think I ever saw you around before-- ya new?"

"Well, I just got the job, so you could say somewhat."

"Oh really now? Whats your name?"

"Y/N. Why? Do I look familiar or somethin'?" I smiled.

"Pffft, yeah. Your that guy I robbed a bank with a decade ago." He joked.

"Heheh.. how'd ya know?"

I didn't ever meet someone with such a charmin' way of doin' anythin' before. If I'm bein' honest, I was already hopin' this guy would come back sometime soon.

He smirked, "Heh.. ya can't hide from me that easy. Names Sodapop by the way."

"Sodapop? Really? Thats a real cool name."

"Why thank ya-- ya have a real cool name yourself, pal."

"Well, I thank ya too. Have ya ever come by here before?"

"No, but I see ladies and their girlfriends comin' in up in here all the time. Figured it'd be a nice gift for my girl an' all, so thats why I'm here."

"Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate it-- ya wanna-- ya wanna take a look around or will this be your way off now?"

Asked I. I myself didn't realize it at the time, but I think this was the beginnin' of my big old fascination with this man.

"Nah, I'll be off now. But I'll come back sometime to look around, so no sweat--"

He then went towards the exit, and opened it up, leaving a ray of sunshine to glow in. "Well, I'll see ya! Bye!" He waved with that goofy ol' grin of his.

"Ah-- bye.." Truth be told, as he exited that door, I was hopin' he'd come back a minute later for more. With that attitude of his, I could tell he was a good kid, even though he was most likely a Greasie.

But that attitude of his was enough to make me fall in love with him later on; and fallin' in love with another man in this time was a dangerous game. Especially if you didn't know whether they liked you back or not.

The game hadn't been started yet, but I knew deep down from the very start soon it would have to be played. I and Soda, the chess pieces. And the ones movin' the chess pieces, the gods above playin' with us.

[pigeonp0st]

Since I loved your one shot about Lena, I'm requesting another one! Reader is a single mom and is afraid to tell Lena about her child cause she thinks Lena isn't going to take it well, but in the end Lena loves her child.

Lena Luthor x Reader #2

Words: 1,590

Warnings: none?

Notes:

Thank you for requesting! If you’d like me to change the name of the kid (or the gender) feel free to say so. Also...sorry if you were expecting more of Lena. I realized at the end that there might not have been enough (Sorry for spelling mistakes too).

———

Miles, your eight year old son, has started to pretend he’s a psychologist. He’ll sit you down, with your head in his small lap (which isn’t very ethical), and ask you about your life problems.

Usually, you’ll make up funny nonsense that he’ll struggle to find the solution to...but today a very real problem has arrived, and you know you shouldn’t be trying to confide in your little boy about this, yet you decide to anyway.

He knows about you and Lena, though Lena doesn’t know about him. He saw her on TV once, was awestruck by her “smartness”, and you let slip that she’s the woman you’ve been dating.

Dating used as a loose term, because you and Lena haven’t actually become anything official. It’s...weird. Made even more so by the fact that she doesn’t know about the most important person in your life.

You tell Miles as much in today’s session. He beams down at you, happy that you’re finally starting to take his sessions seriously, and then taps his finger against his lip, thinking. “You should just tell her,” he finally concludes after a long pause.

You narrow your eyes up at him suspiciously, and wonder if you should just pretend to take his advice and move on. You don’t. “People usually don’t want to get involved with single moms.”

His eyes furrow at that, clearly upset, so you rush on. “If someone doesn’t want to be involved with you, none of me longs to be involved with them,” then, you pause, “I just want to want to be involved with Lena.”

“So this stems from past trauma?” Miles asks, and you gape at him, shocked.

“Where the f—when did you learn any of those words, honey?”

He grins at you again, clearly proud of himself, and then schools his face into an attempt of looking professional. It’s humorous. “Psy- Psych—”

“Psychology.”

“Yes, that. It says that our fears usually come for childhood trauma.”

“I’m not scared,” but even as you say that you know it’s not true. You make a mental note to watch over whatever the hell Miles is listening to, to make sure it’s age appropriate. “Even if I am, it’s definitely not from childhood trauma.”

“From relationship trauma then?”

You let out a shocked laugh, completely stumped. “Baby, your eight. If you keep saying smart things you’re going to start scaring me.”

“Let's talk about your fears,” He suggests. Clearly wanting to move on he gestures for you to sit up. Once you do, he hops up from the couch, grabs his clipboard from the coffee table, and starts scribbling down things you aren’t able to see.

“Okay,” you hesitantly agree. “I’m scared Lena will want nothing to do with me.”

“Why is that something you're scared of?”

You give him a confused look that he pays no attention to. “Obviously I like her...I also fear that you won’t.”

He nods, finally looking up from his clipboard. “And what happens if I hate her, and she hates me, so she leaves and you never speak to her again?”

You choke on absolutely nothing.

“What will you do then?” Miles asks, and you have no response for him. He doesn’t seem to want one. “You’ll deal with it, like you always have. So stop worrying until it comes. If it comes.”

You’re equal parts extremely proud of him, and extremely concerned as you think over what he’s said.

Then, as if he’s tired of being the smartest eight year old alive, he hands you the paper he was working on for half of your ‘session’. The paper is full of sharp lines that get more curvy and tangled the closer they get to what appears to be the middle.

“This,” he says, “is how you’re feeling.”

And you believe him.

———

It takes you a week to build up the courage to tell Lena about Miles. He surprisingly helped you come to the realization that holding off on telling Lena the truth won’t change the outcome.

In fact...it would probably make things more complicated. Even now, she deserved to know sooner than this.

It’s too late, of course. There’s no point in wishing you had done differently.

“Are you okay?” Lena asks through the phone, sounding so beautifully concerned over the fact that you haven’t spoken for awhile. God, you're whipped for this world-saving genius.

“Yeah,” you say, “just...you know how I said I had something to talk to you about?” You don’t wait for her to confirm, because of course she remembers, she’s looked scared because of it all day. “I sort of have to show you...so would you mind coming over?”

Yes, you’re a coward that’s hoping Lena seeing Miles for herself, instead of you telling her about him, will make her more accepting. Miles has a very convincing charm.

“You want me to go to your place?” Lena sputters, clearly shocked.

In an instant you regret the decision you were so sure about before. Maybe Lena isn’t ready. You should tell her before she comes, so she isn’t shocked out of her mind when she sees him.

You should—

“Okay,” Lena says, determined. You hadn’t even responded to her before. “I’ll be there soon.” And then she hangs up the phone before you manage to say anything, leaving you wondering what the fuck you’re doing.

You could call her back.

...you’re not going to. You’re too scared.

——

Miles waits by the door, dressed in his best suit. He knows how anxious you are about this, despite how hard you’ve been trying to hide it since your weird ‘session’, so he says he’s going to try and be the best him he can be.

You tell him that all he needs to be is his normal self and everything will be alright, but he admits to being nervous to meet Lena too, because she’s super smart. (He’s been watching anything he can find of her on the internet)

Thus, the two of you wait together impatiently, trying not to descend into madness.

——

At some point Miles starts making and handing you scribbles of how you feel, and you start making and handing them back.

It’s while you’re handing Miles your next piece that the doorbell rings.

He doesn’t look to be that nervous anymore, just excited, so he follows you on your track to answer the door, and with each step you contemplate your entire existence beyond Miles.

Then…Then you open the door.

Miles is hiding behind your leg, looking up at Lena with hesitant hopefulness and uncertainty, it’s the exact match of the way you’re looking at her, and Lena is looking at him with wide eyes.

Because you’re sure you’re about to die from the silence, you croak out a wobbly and quiet; “hi,” at the same time Mile’s sticks out his hands and says his own charming greeting.

“Hello, doctor Y/L/N here. Nice to meet you.”

“Lena Luthor.” As if on autopilot Lena shakes his hand. “You’re a doctor?” She asks, smiling the smallest of smiles at him.

He nods his head eagerly, glad she’s smiling. “Yeah! Of—of psy- psych...”

“Psychology,” You finish. Lena’s gaze switches to you. It’s the moment you think you’re gonna die, but her gaze is concerned instead of disappointed.

“He’s older than the photo on your wallpaper suggested,” Lena says.

Oh.

Oh…

You’re an idiot.

Then, Lena smiles—wider this time because of your dumbstruck expression—and looks at Miles. “To be a doctor you have to be pretty smart.”

He nods, his eyes practically full of stars.

“That’s how I know you and I are going to get along great.”

Miles grins madly, pushes you a bit to the side so Lena can come in, and says, eager, “can I show you my work, please?”

And Lena looks from you, to him, laughs a laugh full of amusement and endearment, and agrees gracefully. “I’d love it if you would.”

———

Lena adores Miles.

Around him she almost seems, impossibly, like a child herself. She so obviously and beautifully wants him to like her, and all the while Miles is almost exactly the same around her.

They’re both complete dorks trying to subtly get each other's attention and all you want to do is watch the two of them interact for ages.

They both were two separate parts of your life, and now they’re merged better than you ever expected them to.

It’s great. Absolutely great. But whenever they turn their twin gazes on you you’re sure you’re going to melt into a puddle of adoration.

Wow.

“What is it?” You ask them, after they’ve both looked at you for too long without saying anything.

Lena tilts her head, her smile concerned again, “you look like you’re about to cry.”

Miles nods his agreement. “What’s wrong mom? Does whatever bothering you stem from childhood trauma?” He asks, and at Lena’s ‘the fuck’ face you burst out into a fit of laughter, that quickly turns into tears of absolute love.

Both Miles and Lena looked at you with alarm because they don’t realize this is the happiest you’ve been in a while. It is though. It is.

“Not childhood trauma,” you assure them both, and before Miles can suggest it you add; “not past relationship trauma either, it’s happy tears.”

“Oh,” Lena stutters, “good.”

“Oh,” Miles repeats, sounding relieved and a tad bit disappointed. “I haven’t learned how to deal with those tears yet.”

[keiththespacekitty]

These heroic men and women... and Lance

"Shiro… can we, um- can we- can we talk?" Lance couldn't keep this bottled up much longer. It felt so heavy, so uncomfortable, so off. Secrets didn't keep well when they weighed on your mind and jarred your soul.

"Of course, always!" Shiro responded immediately, guiding Lance to sit down.

"Something just… doesn't feel right," Lance began awkwardly, "I don't feel right. I- I don't know why, I just- have this sinking feeling like I'm being- forced into some uncomfortable tight box. And- the weirdest things make me feel so uncomfortable and wrong, and I tried… I tried trying to hop to the other side, but that felt just as wrong and alien as I do now, and I just… I'm not- happy, like this."

"Lance," Shiro began gently, "I'm gonna need you to be more specific… what's this about?"

"My gender," Lance replied quietly, "I just- I don't feel happy. I don't feel right."

"I'm glad you felt able to come to me about this, Lance," Shiro said softly, "what have you figured out so far? I'll see if I can help you somehow."

"I'm… really not comfortable as a boy," Lance replied, knee bouncing with anxiety, "but I'm not… I'm not comfortable as a girl either… I- I'm just- I'm not comfortable…"

"Lance…" Shiro thought carefully for a moment, before turning to face Lance. "Have you considered that you might be non-binary?" Lance looked up at Shiro, brows furrowed in consideration.

"I can just… do that?"

"Well- yeah," Shiro began with a smile, "if the gender binary is uncomfortable for you, you don't have to identify with it. Just because it's important for some people doesn't mean that you personally have to stick to it. Gender is… personal, Lance, it's okay to identify however makes you feel the most comfortable. It's okay to try different pronouns and labels until you find what fits. And maybe people will always be misinformed, or bigoted even, but life is too short to live uncomfortably just to please people who are never going to be pleased unless you hide yourself away. You have friends who will accept you no matter who you are, Lance. A community of people going through similar stuff who will support you too. You don't have to be a boy or a girl. It's okay if you're both or neither or fluid or whatever feels like you. You don't have to wait for some cosmic sign, but in case you are, this is it. You're valid, it's okay to identify as non-binary, you're not fake, your pronouns, if they've changed, deserve respect. And it's also okay if you try a label and it doesn't fit right. Do what you feel will make your life and your identity the most comfortable. I know that my own experiences with gender were confusing, as a trans man, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if you really feel like you're not cis? That's because you probably aren't. The decisions you make now don't have to be permanent. So just do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable. That'll be the right decision, no matter how permanent or temporary it may be."

"I never knew you were trans," Lance said quietly, and Shiro smiled gently, resting his hand on Lance's shoulder. 

"Well, now you do," he beamed.

"Shiro…" Lance took a measured breath, and finally managed a quiet confession. "I'm not a boy."

"And that's perfectly okay, Lance," Shiro reassured supportively.

"I'm… I'm non-binary," Lance mused with a slight smile. "I don't know if any more specific labels really resonate with me but… my gender is… like the ocean, free, but always there like a constant. I… feel comfortable with non-binary. Just- saying that… makes that tight uncomfortable feeling lift away somewhat… like I was in a box and now I'm free. In a world of zeroes and ones, I'm just… neither. I'm not on or off, up or down, male or female, I'm just… Lance. There's men, women, and… Lance. Just Lance. I'm just Lance. Ladies, gentlemen, and Lance. I'm not he or him, she or her. I'm just... they."

"Would you like me to use they/them pronouns for you, Lance?"

"Yeah…" Lance smiled, unable to stop the smile upon their face as warmth blossomed in their chest. They felt comfortable for the first time in a very long time. "Yeah, that feels right."

"I'm glad you get to experience that feeling, Lance," Shiro smiled, "and when or even if you decide to tell the team, I'll be right here supporting you."

"Thank you, Space Dad," Lance smiled, leaning back and taking a deep breath at the euphoric relief they felt of not forcing themselves to identify as male. "Thank you so much."

"It's no problem, Lance," Shiro smiled, patting them on the back before he stood up and headed towards the door. "Take some time to sort your head out, then join us for lunch."

"Shiro, can you…" Lance shrugged awkwardly, Shiro waiting in the doorway with an encouraging smile. "Can you tell everyone my pronouns, please? I… don't wanna be misgendered anymore."

"Of course," Shiro smiled, and Lance turned back to look at space again as Shiro left. They felt content, at peace with themselves and their identity. It made them smile to themselves as they watched the stars, feeling grateful to know that, out here in space, being different to the majority wasn't so alien. They had a distinct feeling that, for once, everything would simply be alright.

Lance tried to act calm as they headed to lunch, but they couldn't quell their anxiety. They understood that it would take some time for people to switch from using he/him to using they/them, and that didn't bother them. But nerves still set in their belly, churning and filling his mind with the possibility of purposeful and ignorant misgendering. They made themselves late from pacing outside the door.

"Finally, they're here," Pidge grinned, and the instant rush of gender euphoria had Lance smiling goofily.

Hunk turned around with a cake, decorated with the non-binary flag, grinning. "Lance, buddy! We're all so proud of you!"

"I've already had Coran update your records to include the correct pronouns," Allura said with a smile, "I'm glad you felt able to trust us with this, Lance."

"And if anyone's a dick about it, I'll stab them with my sword," Keith added, and Lance had never felt more at home- here, in space, with their new found family, safe in the knowledge that they never had to explain who they were to be accepted. Lance finally felt comfortable.

[neshabeingchildish]

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 3

I’m very sorry if I’m pushing these out too soon. I can’t undo them as they come out. Whenever I’m off this week, I hope to work on other projects. This one kind of establishes something pretty important to me, even though a lot of it is perspectives from the characters and it shows some of Chase’s less flattering traits, but don’t worry. I’m not gonna do him dirty in the long run. I’ve already began on the next chapter and that one they’ll begin getting into more of the work. @kiddangers @sunbeameyes @just-a-j-reallly

The P Word

"This is like that scene in Romeo and Juliet," Chase said. Charlotte knew that he'd been there, so he didn't startle her, and she didn't pretend to not know he was there.

"I sure do hope not," she told him, "They had a bad time."

"I've honestly always wondered why it's considered a love story and not a horrific one," he said and levitated himself up to the terrace.

"Because of the people in charge," she said with a slight smirk.

"Is that your answer for anything, now?"

"Anything wrong with the world," she told him, shrugged her shoulders and looked at the moon again. "And it isn't my answer so much as THE answer." She turned to look at him again. "If you're concerned about your capsule, I promise you it's fully functional. We just made sure to program it to keep you in slumber mode until your body reached optimal equilibrium." She poked him playfully on the chest and told him, "You don't get enough sleep."

"So, you're making me?"

"The capsule is making you, but yeah…" she looked bothered suddenly. "If you want to undo it, you can override stasis mode."

"No. It's fine."

"It's just… important to me that you don't feel like I'm trying to force my will on you, be it this, or anything else. I just want you to make the best decisions for you, yourself."

"I get it… and I appreciate it, more than you know."

She smiled and glanced at her bedroom. She had enough of the moon, for now. She picked up a basin of water that he hadn't previously noticed from on the rail and headed inside. Chase followed, unsure of how to broach the subject… She poured some of the water into a tall, transparent and smooth glass on her nightstand and the rest into a canister that had "Moon Water" on the label, with drawings of the moon and stars stickers decorating it. She gave him a curious look as she put the canister away in an armoire. "What's on your mind? 

He thought for a moment while she also put the empty basin away. "I came to apologize, but there's no good way to do it. I feel extremely silly for what I said earlier." She paused in front of the armoire, closed the doors and smiled at him. 

"I've had people that I care about much less say much worse things to me."

"I don't want to be a person who says bad things to you," he told her. "I don't want to be a person who says ignorant things or intolerant things. I misspoke and I wasn't fully thinking. I should never open my mouth unless I've processed things. I hope you can forgive me."

Her eyes were glazed over and she nodded her head, "I've forgiven terrible stuff to people I didn't love. Don't worry about it." He smiled at the insinuation that she loves him, even if she only meant as a friend. "I'm used to being misunderstood, and I knew that it didn't come from a place of malcontent."

He reached out for her hand, allowing her the chance to take it, which she did and he stared at her. "You can always tell me what's on your mind, even when I hurt you. Especially when I hurt you. I hated not knowing what I said or how it was affecting you. Just seeing you look at me that way… you're one of the few people that I don't disappoint. I don't ever want to do that unchecked."

"I didn't respond because I didn't want to put words between us that I couldn't retract. Then, I'd be feeling like I guess you must be." She laughed a little and strummed his hand with her thumb. He was always impressed by how smooth her skin was. How perfect it felt to his heightened senses. He didn't frequently use or need that one. Mostly, it was for precise science in special conditions. But, whenever he had the opportunity to touch Charlotte, he naturally used it. She had the least amount of dead cells on her than anyone he knew, a fact that she told him was because she exfoliated religously. Praise whoever was responsible for that! Her… he guessed, now that he thought about it. 

"I'm feeling better now. I like it when you let me hold your hand."

"I'm not "letting you hold my hand." WE are holding hands. This isn't some favor that I'm handing you. It's a mutually beneficial show of affection between friends." She noticed the flicker of something in his eyes. It was brief, but they'd been gazing at each other, so she couldn't have not noticed. It was because of her use of the word "friends," but that's what they were. And he was one of her most valued ones. He loved that, he did. But, he wanted more. She knew he wanted more, but she didn't know if he was ready for everything that came along with somebody like her. She could be… a lot, and he still had so much social disconnect.

Changing the subject, he wondered, "Will you tell me? What you were thinking?"

She sighed. "Just that it was unpleasant to have to hear something like that from you. I have a lot of things that people have tried to get me to shove down. Everything that I do has been policed my entire life, same for my ancestors. I.. have so many things that I've had to learn to love about myself, to accept about myself and to work through for myself because of the fact that for as long as I could remember, somebody, anybody, sometimes everybody wanted me in a box. My race, gender, sexuality, romantic affiliation, relationship culture, spirituality, practices, ethics, culture, upbringing… every facet. So, to hear that you felt like I couldn't understand having that happen and processed for me was… hurtful." 

He moved his free hand to cup her face and they stared at each other. She whispered, "How else did you figure I seem to understand you so well?"

"I'm sorry," he said. He placed his forehead against hers and confessed, "I think I was so frightened by the mission that I panicked and forgot my senses. Of course, I don't actually think that about you. I just… I don't like to admit when something seems impossible to me. Changing the world, in the way that you described… the probability of success…"

"Will rise more and more with each assignment and each recruit," she finished his statement to try to help appease his fears. "I can guarantee that." He nodded his head, but didn't move it from hers. "I promise," she reiterated.

"Even if I knew that I would die trying, I would still say yes to you," he told her, as his other hand moved to cup the other side of her face.

"Why is that?" She asked, curiously, not teasingly.

"I can't say no to you…" he said and leaned forward a little bit.

"I can say no to you… when it's for your own good." She backed her face from his lips and his hands, but took them into hers, "I'm asking you as a qualified and trusted partner in the effort. Not as a woman that you care about, abusing that knowledge. I wouldn't lead you on to get what I want from you, Chase. I also wouldn't pretend that we want the same things."

He gently pulled his hands out of hers and nodded, "I understand. You.. don't want me. That doesn't change anything. I'm still here for you." She smiled, sadly. It wasn't that she didn't want him… "Is it because of Max?" His jaw clenched when he said this name.

"Not.. really. It's because of you. You're very committed and pure. Very sweet and loyal." 

"Aren't you those things, as well?"

"Yes, but… not necessarily to one person at a time…" she bit her lip and tilted her head, "I'm… polyamourus, Chase. I am comfortable being involved romantically with more than one person. I prefer it, and I'm used to it. It's not something that I ask of other people, and I've never gotten the feeling that it's something that you would be comfortable with."

"You… have multiple partners…" he said.

She nodded, "I am most comfortable with multiple partners, and I have to warn others when they show serious interest in me, or make a move… I'm not going to suddenly just want to be with one person monogamously, just because I have strong feelings for them. I have enough passion to have strong feelings for everyone that I have them for."

"And do you have them for Max?" 

She laughed and covered her forehead, "Chase, it isn't about Max. It's about ME."

"I know, but do you?"

"Yes. I love Max, very much and I have for years," she said, nodding her head.

"And is he okay with.. your… relationship desires?" 

She covered her mouth as she answered, "I feel like you're still focused on the wrong thing. The question you need to ask yourself before ever getting as close to me as you almost did is if you are okay with it." She reached for a book of matches and tucked her hands in between her legs. "I'm patient and rarely lonely. You don't have to answer it for me. You have to answer it for you. And if it turns out that you still… want to say yes to me, we can talk about it at that time." 

Chase was not the first person who she had to break this news to, and because she was in high demand and full of qualities, she knew that he wouldn’t be the last. She hated seeing him look so crestfallen, but he was not someone that she would ever lie to. She loved and respected him too much to do that. 

She saw him out and went to light her handmade incense, and a white candle. She laid down to rest, trying to release the energy of having to sort of let him down gently. She wished that hadn’t happened, but also… Chase was the type who was very territorial and jealous - she had seen it for herself from almost the instant that he had met Max, and to pretend like she could believe he would be fine with sharing her wouldn’t be fair to her or to him. She tried to focus on the positive things in her life and gave thanks for those. Confident that she would find peace in her dreams, she fell to sleep for the night.

.

In the morning, Charlotte got up, took the water from the nightstand and threw it off of the terrace. It splashed against the ground and she took the glass back inside, grabbed the basin from her armoire, and she washed the glass in it. When it was clean, she put it away, dumped the basin over the terrace, as well, cleaned it out and put it up. She cleared her nightstand of her sleeping spell and replaced it with an orange candle with flowers and crystals in it. That, she lit, now for her morning ritual. 

Silence. Affirmations. Visualization. Exercise. Reading. Scribing (Journaling). The entire process took about an hour and when she was done, she would always cover the candle with a see through snuffer. It was big enough to cover the entire candle and she would pick up the candle dish, step outside and open the lid to let the smoke out into the air. 

Once back inside, a shower, moisturizing, styling her hair and getting dressed were up next, and she topped it off with a few spritzes of her custom fragrance blend of ylang ylang, jasmine, vetiver, and sandalwood in rosewater from a fancy, old fashioned perfume bottle with a squeeze pump through a nozzle. 

Charlotte practically pranced through the courtyard to get back to the guys. She came through the doors, the sunshine blaring through when they opened, and saw Max and Chase, standing awfully close to each other’s faces. They would’ve almost looked like they were ready to kiss, except their expressions were the opposite of that sentiment. “Good morning?” She said. Chase continued to glare Max down, but Max scoffed, took a step back and looked at Charlotte. His own glare melted away and his eyes brightened. She was all glowy… Beaming and shit. Her skin was radiant, her eyes were twinkling, her jewelry sparkling, and her hair gleaming. But, her expression was bothered. He didn’t want to be a part of dulling this image. 

“Good morning!” He cheered, with a smile. “Ready for breakfast?” He asked, pointing finger guns at her and shaking them. 

She looked at Chase and Chase avoided looking at her at all. Then, she remembered the last time that they spoke. What had happened, and she wasn’t sure if him avoiding looking at her was because of that or because of whatever TF she had just interrupted. “So… Is no one really going to tell me what the heck is going on?” Chase and Max both looked at each other…

.

Max got up pretty early. For some reason, his brain was usually a go anywhere from 4 am to sunrise (he just would wake up and have to record multiple ideas, or realize that he figured out an equation for a gadget while he dreamt, or just be filled with the energy to have to think of something new that he could tackle next. 

If he had it his way, he’d never wake up early, but his mental processing and creative juices had other plans. He always woke up before the world did and he was always filled with urgency to do things when he did. Some of his best brainstorms occurred upon waking up with a start. Today was no different. He got up, began recording notes for several of his experiments in progress, checked his website and answered some questions from science heads that followed his gadget series, and sketched some designs for new ideas in his project sketchbook, and when the sun began to come up, his mind began to settle down enough for him to not lose excitement, but to focus on getting ready for the day. (This usually happened much later in the day, but anytime that he was spending at Charlotte’s, his body knew to chill out sooner, so that he could see more of her). He couldn’t really explain it, but maybe it was desire based. She was the only thing that he wanted more than to create and invent, so he was able to taper that passion whenever he knew that he would be able to see her sooner, if he did. 

She usually arose either with the sun, or after it peeked into her windows and warmed her back to consciousness, so he tossed the sketchbook aside and grabbed some clothes into his fist to wash up. 

Max generally liked to soak in a bath, then wash off in the shower. It was kind of a waste of water, but it was what he enjoyed doing. Plus, Charlotte being the super nerd that she was, she had her bathrooms set up like those prefect ones in the books, and he just felt like a little kid having a blast in a huge bathtub with these ridiculous soaps faucets. The scents would fill the entire room and he knew this was the height of luxury and that he needed to memorize every single sensation for whenever he was back in his lesser bathtub. 

After the shower, his hair was pretty much just wet and tousled. He heated his hands with his heat breath and ran them through the coif, flirted with himself in the mirror, summoned his phone to himself and strutted out of his guest chambers towards the lab. He was singing to himself and scrolling through, liking Charlotte’s morning posts, which were usually something inspirational for her fanbase and sometimes something artsy like a burning candle or a bird that landed on her terrace or something. She usually posted 3 things, and it was generally right before she left her quarters, because she tended to leave the phone behind whenever she was on a break. He was liking those and bumped right into something, lost his balance and dropped his phone when he almost fell. He groaned as he caught his footing and looked up to see Chase. “Are you drunk?” Chase asked him.

“What? I was looking at my phone. What’s your excuse? You have super freakin’ senses. None of the five let you know that I was right in front of you?” Max snatched his phone from the floor and checked it for damage.

“Maybe you’re just so insignificant that you didn’t register to any of my senses!” Chase snarled at him. 

Max furrowed his eyebrows and slipped his phone into his back pocket. The last time he’d seen him, they’d been fine. What the hell was this moody shit in front of him? “Excuse you?” Max asked. “Can you repeat it with your big boy voice? I’m afraid my hearing isn’t as good as yours is supposed to be.”

Chase wanted to escalate this. He wanted a reason to fight with Max, but also… That wouldn’t prove anything but that he was childish, and also that he was exactly what Charlotte thought he was when she rejected him last night. “Look. I didn’t notice you, okay? That's that.”

Max stepped closer and shook his head, “No. Not okay. You could’ve said that in the first place and I wouldn’t have had anything to say, but you called me insignificant? Because I bumped into you in the hallway? I don’t feel like that was called for.”

“I’m sorry,” Chase said. 

Max folded his arms and just sized him up. “What’s your problem this morning?”

“No problem. Simple mistake. My fault,” Chase said. 

Max was still studying him. His body language was all messed up. He looked tense and a little fidgety, and he was clenching and unclenching his fists. “What happened last night when you went to apologize to Charlotte?” Max asked, actually concerned, but Chase got super defensive.

“None of your business!” he snapped.

Max laughed and that just pissed Chase off more. He knew he was being childish and he knew that Max was more than likely laughing at the discomfort of the situation and the absurdity of his behavior, but still… he had not enjoyed his morning and the last thing he wanted to do was even look at Max, much less to bump into him, and now he felt scrutinized by him. Max rolled his eyes, stepped aside and muttered, “Whatever she did, you deserved it. Freakin’ weirdo…” He was going to walk away, when Chase turned him around and both of them were on the ready to attack. 

Max wasn’t sure how or why they got to this place, but if Chase was going to attack him, he certainly was about to defend himself. “Walk. Away. I swear to god…” Max said through his teeth. Their noses were practically touching. Neither flinched. Chase wasn’t sure what he planned on doing… The smart thing would be to just walk away. What was he gonna do? Fight, in this brand new castle? Over like… school type stuff? 

“Good morning?” he heard, off to the side. He flinched at the sound of her voice. He forced himself not to look at her, though he could imagine her face and he felt like she probably knew that he was just here, in a bad mood trying to bring down Max’s day, as well. And… she probably would lose so much respect for him. Max was right. He did deserve for her to turn him down. He was unsure of why he had even let himself for a moment think that she might not. 

“So… Is no one really going to tell me what the heck is going on?” 

He looked at Max to gauge if he looked like he might say exactly what was on his mind. Max was the type to just tell the truth, even if it sucked. Chase felt panicked. He had been messing up this entire time and today was avoidable. He chose to make today this way. Max lifted his nose and looked down towards Chase. “A misunderstanding that you interrupted in time,” Max said. He rolled his eyes at Chase, put his hand in the small of Charlotte’s back and led her towards her kitchen, “I am craving quiche! Quiche good for you, Bionic Boy?” Max asked over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Chase said, in a low voice, trailing behind them. Charlotte turned to look at him. She really wanted to know what had just happened. He couldn’t even think of a way to ever explain that. Maybe she would leave it alone? Because, he’d embarrassed himself enough for one trip.

.

Chase left Charlotte’s quarters frazzled. He couldn’t believe he’d made such an ass of himself and he just wanted to vanish at the moment. He should probably go home. He looked at the missions. Skylar seemed to be doing just fine getting things done while he was “away on business.” He shot her a quick text asking if they needed anything.

“Good to go!” She texted back almost immediately. He checked the reports, and everything looked good, as she had already stated. He couldn’t chill himself out. He was worried about what Charlotte might say tomorrow. Did he mess up something? Did he make it weird? Wouldn’t it be even harder to watch her around Max? Max… She loved him. She said that she did. She didn’t say that he was one of her… prospects, but she did love him and that much was clear, just from seeing them together. And, it was mutual. And… they knew each other for like… seven years, or less, but, still… More than twice as long as Chase had known her. What kind of love did she have for him? Was it the same as the “love” she had for Chase?

He should get into his capsule and rest. The stasis mode would put him to sleep. He couldn’t SLEEP though… He needed more information about polyamory. He turned off stasis mode, climbed into the capsule, washed up, dressed for bed and then began reading every single article, ebook, script to movies and storylines in shows - every single thing that he could find on polyamory. He wound up more confused and more frustrated than whenever she gave him a soft, short definition. He had collected too much information. Some of this was unreliable, and some simply not the way that she was, some of it was ill-conceived or poorly executed and now, ALL of it was in his head and he wouldn’t be able to fact check each of these details against her life, nor would he be able to forget what he had read. He was upset with himself by the time he fell to sleep and as upset by the time his alarm woke him up, because he had not put the capsule back into stasis mode.

Grumpy and tortured by the information, he got out of the capsule and decided to exercise, maybe blow off some of the steam that he had nobody to thank for but himself. He heard an alert on his phone, but ignored it, in lieu of a morning workout routine. Afterwards, he looked at the phone and saw that Charlotte had posted something whenever she got up. Max had liked it. He put his phone away and got ready for the day, making yet another masochistic decision to scan through the two’s social media pages for each other. There were less than seven years, but close to it. Many adorable and cozy photos, a few of them very very close. Some kisses shared that could be casual, could be something else… Basically, a ton of fuel for his jealousy. 

He continued going through each account and saw flirting in comments, suggestive replies to posts and other stuff that let him know… Nope… He certainly couldn’t share her with somebody else. She was right to point that out. 

For crying out loud, he couldn’t even  handle reading through past exchanges that he couldn’t even confirm were anything other than the flirtatious banter of two great friends. 

But, sometimes, Chase would let his thoughts get away with him and make him paranoid and completely irrational. THIS was one of those times. 

He thought about how comfortable Max made himself, not just in Charlotte’s home, but her personal space. He thought about the fact that he was regarded as a rebel and a bad boy of herodom, but all he had seen was an obedient puppy dog with heart eyes and uncontrollable smiling. That wasn’t the demeanor of a friend one loves. That was the demeanor of a friend with benefits, and while Charlotte was well within her rights to do whatever she wanted with whomever, Chase hated the thought of her wanting that with Max and not even so much as a kiss with him! As though the gods hated him in this moment, right as he was simmering in thoughts he fabricated for himself, storming down the hallway, reading when he should just close it all out, he ran headfirst into Max. 

The latter had just been strolling around like he owned the place and got all pissy about this accident. It wasn’t like either of them were paying attention, so who did he think he was that this had to be Chase’s fault? Who do you think he is? He’s the king of this fucking castle. He’s loved. He’s comfortable. This is his domain. He belongs here. She wants him. You’re an imposter and you’re in his space…

But, Chase had to defend himself. Even if it wasn’t Max who was telling him these things, it was Max who was causing him to tell himself these things and he couldn’t take it right now. By the time Max told him he deserved it… Deserved her rejection? Deserved to be in this state of confusion and mental chaos? Deserved to fall in love with someone who told him that she couldn’t let him? He felt like FINALLY. Finally, he could turn the anger he was feeling into something justified and he reached out to grab Max and turn him back around, surprising even himself when he did and making Max’s anger match his. Yes. Yes, now BOTH of us can be super mad. It was slightly a relief whenever Charlotte appeared, because she cut through Max’s tension, at least. The obedient puppy dog with the heart eyes was back and… Chase didn’t know where the hell he was. On the crazy train, apparently. It wasn’t even like he could blame Spike or even either of the two people here. Neither of them did anything to him. He did this to him, and he was disappointed in himself for doing it all. 

“So… Is no one really going to tell me what the heck is going on?”

Max’s deflection was great for him. He wouldn’t keep pushing. He would have breakfast, let them know he wasn’t feeling well, return to the capsule on stasis and get the proper rest that his body needed for equilibrium. It was a wonder that he wasn’t glitching!

Because of his super hearing, he heard her ask, “What was that Max, be honest?”

“I wish I knew. Dude flipped out on me over basically nothing. I don’t think it was about me, honestly. I think it was about you. Last night, he said he was gonna apologize. Last I saw him, I thought we were gonna be cool and this morning, completely different story.”

Charlotte sighed and said, “I had to have the talk with him last night… The P word talk.” 

Max blew a gust of wind out and nodded his head, “Okay, that is a rough one. I’ll give him THIS once, because of that, but… I don't know, Char. I don’t know.”

Charlotte turned to look at him and he avoided eye contact. “Chase,” she said softly. He looked up to see the two of them waiting for him. Now that he knew that they knew what was wrong with him, at least to an extent, he felt a little better, a little bit more ashamed. 

But, he fell into step between the two of them and Max started asking about what ingredients they would be okay with for the quiche. Chase owed him an apology, too, but he was fine with just saying, here and now, “Hey… Sorry that I was acting that way. I don’t know what came over me this morning. I was just jaded and wanted to bring somebody into my misery.”

Max laughed and said, “You’ll find that it’s pretty tough to do that to me, but don’t worry about it. You seem like you had a rough night. I assure you, my breakfast quiche will fix that.”

“Okay,” Chase said, smiling, in spite of himself and everything else. Max threw an arm around his shoulder as they walked and at first, it made Chase jump a little, but he didn’t toss it off of him. Instead, he decided to finally act like he had some good sense and just listen to Max go on about this perfect quiche of his that nobody else can make quite like him. 

Max was right. Chase felt a thousand times better after eating and fell to sleep on a fuzzy couch in the lounge. “Can he hear in his sleep?” Max wondered.

“No. He’s inside of his mind when he sleeps. Sometimes, he has a dream, but mostly, it’s numbers and coding,” she said and strummed Chase’s hair. 

“Do you think he’ll be able to put his feelings aside for the sake of the work?”

“Yeah. You did,” she said. 

Max raised his eyebrows, “ I did? I don’t recall that. I recall powering through, because you were back in Dystopia with your boys and that was that. I didn’t have a choice. I was there to do work that I believed in. Chase doesn’t believe in your work.”

“Not yet. We’ve gotta show him some results. I can keep him occupied with something less hard to swallow, in the meantime.”

Okay… So, what’s our first assignment, to prove to him that he belongs in this thing, with us?” 

“It’s gonna sound a lot like a horrible thing, but in the long run will be a great thing,” she said. 

He winced, “Tell me.” She smiled...

[emptypokedex-blog]

hi so i'm trash and i was scrolling down your blog and i saw the homestuck au and i want to draw art of it so do you have any like, references or ideas as to how everyone looks? like, horn shapes, symbols, outfits, etc? or are they just like the same from the manga? sorry for bothering you btw

2: hi, specialstuck anon again. any ideas for like their online handles and ancestors? sorry about bothering you about this bc i just realized that your posts about that au was from like months ago and idk if you care about it anymore i’m so sorry

Hello! I’m sorry for not responding. I’ve just been a shitty blog-runner, and haven’t been here. This ask makes me really happy because I honestly still like Homestuck and genuinely think its well written. I was really into classpect assignments back in the day, so this was a fun little project.

I didn’t post about it because I didn’t think anyone liked it, but here you are, proving me wrong-ish!

AND OH MY GOD YES, I LOVE WHEN ASK TO DRAW ART OF MY IDEA!Don’t worry nonster, you’re not bothering me at all! I’ve literally done nothing over the summer.

I’ll post the pictures separately too just so you can zoom in.

I’m putting a cut because this got longer than expected.

Okay, so I had a guide with all of their horns and symbols, buuuuuut…I lost it. So, special for you, I made a new, updated one! My hand was cramping so bad after this. I would scan it, but I don’t trust my printer/scanner right now, because last time I used it, it completely crumpled my drawing (its the kind that eats the paper and scans it)

BTW I changed some stuff.

In terms of online handles, I dunno. Those are haaard. Ancestors, ignoring the sexes of the characters, would be the character’s parent of the same gender, unless there is only one parent, or if the character has no known parents or no living parents, they would be a sibling. If there are no siblings belonging to that character (Emerald, Red, probably someone else I’m forgetting), they would be a fictional character or OC or someone else from the canon that has some sort of familial or social relationship to the character. So for Silver it’d be Giovanni, Sapphire has Birch, Ruby has Norman, Crystal and her Mother, Green could either have Oak or Daisy. Yellow’s could be her Uncle. And so on.

Clothes would probably be the same, except for the trolls, all their shirts would be black instead of the color they normally are and for the humans all their shirts would be white.

In terms of Lusi (Lususes?) for the trolls, their starts fully evolved forms would be them. So, like, Swampert would be Ruby’s Mudbeast Lusus or Meganium would be Crystal’s Neckbeast Lusus. The same for the humans’ consorts, except in that case, they be the unevolved versions.

Gonna get my caveats out of the way now, I wanted to stick to the ‘one-of-each’ format Homestuck has going on while adhering to the gender-roles, so, at the end, some characters were left with God Tiers that didn’t really fit them *coughsilvercough* So, for those characters, I’ll provide what they were left with and the alternate I would have preferred. The hardest was finding a Breath player. Only the humans had repeats of the trolls.

(Top: Gold, Silver, Crystal Bottom: Pearl, Diamond, Platinum)

Gold: Knight of Blood, Land of Sap and Bells, CueKind, Non-Psionic Yellow-Blood, Prospit.

I forgot why I designed Gold’s horns the way I did. I think it had something to do with resembling his hair. His symbol is the logo for HeartGold.

Gold is a character who’s arc is about feeling inferior to his friends and overcompensating. When he finds out that he didn’t have a title, it broke his heart. The Knight class experiences change and growth throughout the game, and the Blood aspect is about platonic relationships and bonds. Come to think of it, I think Gold could also pass for a Page.

I can see Gold being on the characters who starts one of the teams and competitively tries to get the people he wants to join his team.

Silver: Rogue of Breath*, Land of Dust and Masks, IcePickKind, Non-Psychic Rust-Blood, Derse.

*Not only could I not figure out what Silver would be, but he was also the one to get the most out of character God Tier. I can see him as a destructive class, like Prince of Blood, but both that class and aspect have been taken. I am very unhappy with the result.

I had so much trouble drawing Silver’s hair, that I ended up putting it in a ponytail, but, let’s admit it, we all need for more of that. His horns are supposed to look like an ‘R’ when put together, so one is curved and the other has a hook on the end. They’re asymmetrical. I know its hard to see, but they are. His symbol is supposed to be the logo for SoulSilver. 

I refuse to explain Rogue of Breath because there is nothing to explain. Rufioh, in canon, is a Rogue of Breath and these characters have nothing in common. A Rogue of Breath would steal Breath – or Direction – for the benefit of others and I genuinely cannot make this work. So, instead, I’ll explain Prince of Blood. Prince is a destructive class that destroys with the aspect, in this case Blood, or bonds. Prince can also be one who destroys the aspect. So, Silver destroying past bonds he no longer wants. 

Silver would befriend Blue over the chat, become fascinated by the concept of siblings and request to be Blue’s sister (cause she was explaining it in terms of being his unrelated sister), to which she’d agree for him to be considered her brother.

Crystal: Thief of Doom, Land of Wheels and Flood, FootKind/ShoeKind, Non-Psychic Teal-Blood, Prospit.

One of Crystal’s horns is supposed to be straight, only curving at the end, and the other one has a star on the tip. Her symbol is, surprise surprise, a Star.

I know what you’re thinking. Thief of Doom? Crystal? No Way! Well, I’m gonna explain. Thieves take the aspect to benefit themselves, and the concept of Doom ranges from just a simple burden to death itself to complete planetary destruction. In the Pokespe canon, Crystal was hired to complete a job Green and Red failed to finish, and she was happy to do it. This makes me think that Crystal is willing to take on certain burdens that coincide with her interest, something a Thief of Doom would certainly do.

Potentially the other team leader, maybe the only one who thinks this is an awful idea. Begrudgingly agrees.

Pearl: Seer of Space*, Land of Peaks and Frogs, FanKind, Slightly-Psychic Brown-Blood, Derse.

*Could have been either a Seer of Space or a Mage of Space, but Seer fit his behavior more.

Pearl’s horns are supposed to look like the antenna and tail of a Chatot, so the one behind his hair resembles a music note (see Chatot for reference) while the other one just has a ball on it. I think I’ve seen his horns drawn like this before by other artists, so I don’t think this is the most original decision, but I still really like it. His symbol is a Circle/Pearl.

One of the most important parts of a Seer is their ability to observe. This is why it was so hard to me to pick between Black and Pearl when it came to choosing a Seer. However, because I wanted Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum to be Time, Space, and Void no matter what, Pearl got the honor. A Seer of Space observes Space and exists in the present moment. They may also oversee or take charge and are creative types.

Pearl’s weapon is FanKind because he picked it when he was young and practiced in the art of fan-to-fan compensate.

Diamond: Heir of Time*, Land of Fruit and Geysers, LadleKind, Non-Psychic Cobalt-Blood, Prospit.

*I originally listed him as a Page of Time, but changed it after giving Wally the role of Page. Either works for him.

Dia’s horns are supposed to look non-threatening, so they are wide and not very sharp. They’re kinda Munchlax-esque. His symbol is a Diamond.

When picking between Heir and Page, I went with Heir because Wally took Page Diamond has a sense of time from the beginning. Heirs become their aspect in one way or another, hence why they’re called ‘Heirs,’ and Diamond has such a grasp on his flow of time (not to mention his major-legendary equivalent being Diamond), that I see this working. If he were a Page, which would also have been good, it’d mirror his rise against Pearl is the DP chapter.

Diamond makes food puns constantly in chat and there is no way of stopping him.

Platinum: Sylph of Void*, Land of Snow and Tomes, UmbrellaKind, Non-Psychic Violet-Blood, Derse.

*To be honest, a lot of the female-based classes in the Void aspect fit her character, except Witch.

Platz horns should look like the faceplate of an Empoleon. Same situation as Pearl, I think I’ve seen this done elsewhere my multiple artists. Her symbol is the Berlitz family sigil.

Void is nothingness. Pretty much any class enacting Void is lacking something, since Void is the lack of anything. As a Sylph of Void, one could create Void because Sylph is a creative class, and Platinum does this in a social sense by ignoring the claims of other people and acting as though they never happened. In terms of her behavior in early chapters of the DP chapter, she also acts as though she isn’t supposed to emote.

She will never admit she is friends with a lowblood.

(Top: Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald Bottom: Black, White, Wally) 

Ruby: Prince of Light, Land of Mirrors and Silk, NeedleKind, Non-Psychic Rust-Blood, Derse.

I exaggerated Ruby’s scar a bit for this. The horn on the side of his face with the scar is broken, but both of his horns used to be symmetrical. They’re supposed to look like the antennae of a Milotic. His symbol is the pattern on Groudon’s arm.

A Prince of Light would destroy knowledge, which, at first, sounds very out of a character for Ruby. But knowledge doesn’t only apply to books and science. Instead, is refers to anything known. Considering how Ruby acts at the end of the RS chapter, throughout the Emerald chapter, and again in the ORAS chapter, where is constantly pretends as though the confession never happened and lies about a variety of things, actively destroying what people know, I think this is the most fitting God Tier I’ve provided. Ruby is also a character I can definitely imagine playing the role of minor-villain at some point.

He’s super salty about not only being the lowest of bloods, but not having any psychic powers to compensate.

Sapphire: Witch of Rage*, Land of Thorns and Thunderstorms, ClawKind, Non-Psychic Indigo-Blood, Prospit.

*Would rather have Maid of Rage, but White fit the Maid role better for multiple other aspects. Witch was all that was left.

Sapph’s horns resemble Gamzee’s, but are thicker and less curvy. They’re just supposed to look wild and are not based on anything. Her symbol is the pattern on Kyogre’s flipper.

As much as Maid of Rage fit, I had to give her Witch of Rage, which, in actuality, would probably belong to an incredibly unstable person. Witch’s have completely control to manipulate their aspect while also fully embodying that aspect, and when that aspect is Rage, chances are that person isn’t to in a safe psychological place. Maids, on the other hand, start by relying on other people for their aspect and where to enact it before learning on their own to use it as they please. Sapphire would have gone through this change twice: once when she was younger and changed when Ruby was hurt and she realize she couldn’t that girly anymore, directing her Rage towards her younger self and/or people like that, and again when she changes in the RS chapter and compromises.

Sapphire leaves animal pelts at Ruby’s doorstep to make stuff out of. She brings most of the meat to Dia and feeds the rest of it to her eggbeast lusus.

Emerald: Bard of Mind*, Land of Dunes and Towers, PistolKind, Non-Psychic Olive-Blood, Derse.

*Couldn’t for the life of me figure out what this kid was. Rald

I used his current design because I couldn’t draw his croissant-hair. You’ve probably already guessed it, but his horns are based on his eyebrows. His symbol is the pattern on the head of Rayquaza.

Again, same as Silver, I’m not going to explain it. But for Rald, I just don’t have anything else to say. I’ll put it simply: I don’t think Rald is a destructive player (in fact, he might be a manipulative player), but I’m out of stuff and I’m stumped.

Immediately joined Crystal’s team without a second thought and before knowing what the heck they were doing.

Black: Mage of Hope*, Land of Kaleidoscopes and Skyscrapers, RockKind, Powerful-Psychic Brown-Blood, Prospit.

*Seer of Hope was also an option, but it is taken by Pearl. They both make great Seers.

Hexagon. Everything about Black is based on hexagons here. Horns and Symbol. Put his horns together and you get a hexagon.

Mages fully experience their aspect at some point. Admittedly, a Mage of Hope would be naive and maybe a bit too hopeful, but Hope is definitely something Black has a lot of, even up until the end (y’knoow, up until he became a rock). A Mage of Hope would be dedicated to making it to their goal because they would genuinely believe that they’d get there, a la Black when he wants to become a pokemon master.

Sees the world in hexagons a lot like he does with Musha on his head.

White: Maid of Heart*, Land of Roots and Carnivals, WhipKind, Non-Psychic Cobalt-Blood, Derse.

*I also really liked Maid of Hope for her.

Y’know White’s hair-antennae? They’re her horns now. They’re close together and bend back over hear head, not outward. I didn’t know what Symbol to give her, so I just made it a box.

Heart and Blood are very similar in that they’re both about relationships, but Heart is more about the impact of those relationships. A Maid of Heart starts by relying on someone else for their relationships and enjoyment, but would eventually come to do it on their own. If anything, regardless of aspect, White is definitely a Maid.

Had Black sign a contract that ensured he would join the same team that she was on.

Wally: Page of Life, Land of Pumps and Corridors, PumpKind, Non-Psychic Teal-Blood, Prospit.

Wally’s horns are tiny because I felt someone like wally wouldn’t have especially large or threatening horns. His Symbol is the pattern on the face of a Kecleon.

Wally was hard, but I eventually settled on Page of Life. Pages and Maids are very similar in my eyes, because they are both classes based around personal growth. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Pages were the male equivalent to the female Maid. A Page of Life would lack Life in the beginning, which would manifest itself in physical or emotional health. As a Page, he’d grow in health, perhaps to the point of overdoing it. I think this God Tier mirrors his subplot pretty well.

Blindly follows Ruby around where ever he goes.

(Red, Yellow, Blue, Green)

Red: Heir of Blood, Land of Rivers and Lightning, BallKind, Prospit, Consort: Bulbasaur.

I FORGOT HOW TO DRAW RED’S HAIR! His Icon is a Pokeball.

Heirs have a need for their aspect, and one thing Red really enjoys is his pokemon and having a group friends, and even protecting people/showing off to neighborhood kids. As an Heir of Blood, Red would need to embody the Blood aspect and pretty much be the connecting force between the other characters. I picked this because he essentially started the series and, as the first character, I interpret him as the driving for keeping older characters together. Heirs also have a natural talent for their aspect, and I think the term ‘natural talent‘ in general is a decent description of Red. Plus, he’s really good at making friends.

Yellow: Sylph of Life, Land of Keys and Ink, RodKind, Prospit, Consort: Can a Snake be a Consort? ‘Cause I’m thinking Ekans.

Her Icon is a Lightning Bold (Also could have done a feather.)

I mean, come on. Like I said before, Sylphs are a creative class and Life is synonymous with health, and, therefore, a Sylph of Life creates health. Naturally, Yellow would be the teams healer. She could probably bring things back to life or give like to inanimate things by creating Life itself.

Blue: Thief of Space, Land of Coins and Frogs, CrowbarKind, Derse, Consort: Squirtle.

(Oops, she looks like an axolotl) Her Icon is a Mask.

A Thief of Space would steal Space for their own benefit. Blue would probably use this by stealing size from one object and applying it to herself or transferring size between things, switching the location of herself and something else or the locations of two items. It’s be great for stealing from other people.

Green: Prince of Time, Land of Fog and Beats, FistKind, Derse, Consort: Charmander.

His Icon isn’t a pomegranate seed, it’s supposed to look like his pendant, but I can understand the confusion.

Prince is a destructive class, so Green would be destroying with Time. As a result, a Prince of Time would be impatient and easily annoyed and unable to cope with the passage of time. Some of these aspects match Green at an early age. As we known, baby Green had a lot of trouble with patience. They’d be stubborn and have trouble listening to others. This pairs well with early-Green. Current-Green is a lot calmer and smarter that he used to be.

If I didn’t feel the need to have one of each, the cast would look like this (In the same order as all of the above):

Knight of Blood, Prince of Blood, Thief of Doom, Seer of Space, Page/Heir of Space, Sylph of Void, Prince of Light, Maid of Rage, (Whatever Emerald would be), Seer/Mage of Hope, Maid of Hope, Page of Life. (Minus the Humans)

[pocketseizure]

do you still have the views you did about Tezuka in 2012 on LJ? cuz like, I'm not gonna bother arguing about his sociopolitics (long story short I agree with most of it beyond him never giving up on drawing blackface) but I'm curious why you feel (or felt) that Tezuka's art was bad yet enjoyed Mizuki's. I think both are great and while Mizuki had a good style that was more detailed and less rubbery I think Tezuka was a highly skilled cartoonist as far as drawing Fleischer-esque stuff goes.

Oh wow, this is such a cool and interesting ask!

Before anything, let me thank you for reading my garbageLiveJournal. I should probably also say that I don’t wantto participate in The Anime Discourse, wherein large and complicated bodies ofwork are measured by a subjective ideological standard. It’s fun to readother people’s writing, but I don’t want to get involved in that scene myself.

To answer your question, I have mellowed out a bit aboutTezuka during the past five years.

The reason I was so frustrated back in 2012 was because English-languagetranslations of Tezuka were so ubiquitous in the United States at the time. Verticalwas putting out volume after volume of his more famous work, while DMP waslaunching high-profile Kickstarters to publish some of his lesser known titles. Partially because of the influence of Frederik Schodt’s wonderful monographDreamland Japan, a lot of comics journalists and academic writers were treatingTezuka as the progenitor and prime example of all things manga-related. It’sdifficult to overstate the lasting effects of Tezuka’s legacy, of course, butwhat this strong focus on Tezuka meant was that the true range and complexityof prewar and immediate postwar manga was all but ignored.

In other words, it wasn’t Tezuka’s actual work that upset meso much as the silencing of other voices. When people talked about manga thatcriticized the war, they talked about Tezuka, and no one said anything aboutMizuki Shigeru. When people talked about manga that showcased gender slippage,they talked about Tezuka, and no one mentioned any of members of the Year 24Group. When people talked about the protest manga of the 1970s, they talkedabout Tezuka, and it was like Nagai Katsuichi and the other Garo artists didn’texist. When people put together short histories of manga, Tezuka was the star,and many of the female artists whose work helped popularize manga as a mediumin both Japan and the West during the 1990s, like Takahashi Rumiko and TakeuchiNaoko, were apparently not even worth putting on the same page as “the godof manga.” Meanwhile, the vast majority of Japanese writing on manga wasn’tread or translated – the story began and ended at Tezuka, so what more wasthere to know?

Thankfully, things have changed since then. We’ve been gettinga much broader range of manga in translation, so we can now read the work of artistslike Hagio Moto alongside Tezuka. Academics have started to translate the essaysof groundbreaking manga scholars like Fujimoto Yukari, and widely read venueslike The Comics Journal have been publishing articles on all sorts of popularand indie manga titles from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s.

Now that I no longer feel that I have to resist adominant narrative of an all-powerful male creator figure, I’ve cometo appreciate Tezuka’s art and stories a lot more than I used to. There arestill some poorly drawn panels and problematic tropes (especially in his gekigamanga from the 1970s) that make me roll my eyes, but I genuinely enjoy most of hiswork, and I would never deny that he was a creative genius.