#like the accords are a very complex issue

[stitchlesswitch]

Hi, my profession and academic background is in equal employment opportunity and political science. I get this is complex so I’m gonna try to approach this in a nonjudgmental fashion

I assume Sarah’s actually being smart. Very smart. Let’s even put aside that Trumps transgender attack adds were By Far the Most Effective according to his campaign, despite the fact they were every bit a ridiculous and exaggerated as “they’re eating the dogs.” So Sarah basically has the weight on her shoulders here to be The Model Trans Person or else she will be blamed for making transphobic fears “proven to be true.”

Let’s put aside the whole moderate and centrism arguments I.e. “meet me in the middle says the unjust man,” because very few of us can relate to the intimidation of walking into a workplace (hell, an entire administration) where the literal majority has shouted from the rooftops you are not human and you’ll be the first target. In my book, that makes Sarah one of the bravest people on earth regardless of her response. But let’s put that aside too.

Because when it comes down to it, the most effective route to address this that Sarah can take is reporting it to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission for violating Title VII. This is literally a workplace issue, instead of making it a national political boxing match she would almost certainly lose against the overwhelming Trump support, she would be very wise to take it to the arena that she is most likely poised to win (EEOC).

Of course, whether or not she Does take it to EEOC is private and confidential. Even if she does take it to EEOC, that is not a guarantee she will “win.” I will note I haven’t read the proposed legislation and the specific wording can have a very dramatic impact. But still, that’s what I would advise, and I’m sure it’s what employment law lawyers have recommended to her.

All this is to say, you see someone who rolled over.

I see someone plotting for checkmate. Let’s not underestimate her so quickly.

The timing of this was not accidental

[aspoonofsugar]

Hi! Where do you think Alastor's arc is going? Redemption or villainy?

Hi!

Thank you for the ask, I loved watching Hazbin Hotel and I am happy I can write for the series :)

As for now, I think Alastor will spiral and hurt Charlie very badly, but he will eventually redeem himself (probably in a key moment). That is because Alastor is framed as Charlie's Jungian shadow.

What is the Jungian Shadow?

According to Jung, the shadow is what a person represses, both positive and negative. So, it can be one's violent tendencies, but also one's potential and energy. It really depends on the person.

So, why does Alastor fit the Shadow Archetype? Well, first of all:

Alastor's powers make use of shadows. Not only that, but Alastor's own shadow is very expressive and shows the demon's repressed feelings. In other words:

On the one hand Alastor embodies the shadow, in the sense he represents what Charlie refuses to face

On the other hand Alastor himself represses his emotions behind a smiling face:

Alastor: Just because you see a smile, don't think you know what is going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing and ensures tha no matter what comes your way, you're the one in control.

This is a good characterization for a jungian shadow because the shadow grows stronger and more dangerous, when it's ignored. So, the most one refuses to face their feelings, the most these feelings fester and grow powerful and dangerous. This fits Alastor both when it comes to others and to his own character:

He takes advantage of an emotional unstable and vulnerable Charlie to strike an abimguous deal with her. Similarly, he uses Husk's gambling addiction to steal his soul. He uses people's weaknesses an unsolved problems to take over.

He suffocates his feelings, which symbolically manifest in his powerful shadow-tentacles. His design and abilities are representative of his psychological coping mechanism, which is nothing, but repression.

As written above, though, the Jungian Shadow can be both negative and positive depending on what one hides. This duality is shown in Alastor's two roles in Charlie's arc:

He is a demonic archetype (even moreso than Lucifer, the titular devil), as he waits in the shadows for a chance to manipulate Charlie

He is an evil mentor, as he genuinelly likes Charlie, sees her potential and wants to guide her towards greatness:

She's filled with potential that I could guide

This isn't a contradiction, but complexity. Alastor is chaotic and mixes negative traits and intentions with positive ones. Just like what people repress can be both bad and good, usually at the same time.

This is clear when it comes to the Princess of Hell:

Charlie to Alastor: What's that you said about smiles?

Charlie is similar to Alastor in how she represses herself behind her pollyanna persona and her smile. This doesn't mean she is faking her altruism and generosity, but that she is using these traits to hide something else:

Lute: The only reason you're still here is that Daddy gave you and your Hellborn-kind a pardon from an exorcist's blade. How does that feel? To know how little you matter.

Deep down, Charlie invests herself in the Hazbin Hotel project because she wants to matter. She feels powerless and unimportant, as a result of her parents' neglects and of Hell's difficult situation.

So, our protagonist has strong self-issues that she refuses to face:

Husk: Princess is a bleedy heart who wants to solve everybod else's problems, 'cept her own.

That said, this isn't the only thing Charlie represses. The Princess of Hell hides:

Every negative emotions she feels, like her self-hate or her anger at Vaggie for hiding her true identity:

Rosie: How does that make you feel? Charlie: Just... angry? Because we share everything! Because she always supported me, and my ideas, and now I don't know whether or not that was just more of the lies... Oh no, that's a horrible thing to think! Do I think that? Yes! No? Kinda?

Her most violent and aggressive side, which makes so she is unable to make full use of her powers:

Vaggie: Well, I mean... You're the princess of Hell, but you don't really use the power that comes with that. Mybe you can, I don't know? Command a little more... authority. Charlie: But that's so mean.

In short, by repressing her negative feelings, she also represses her potential. It is only by facing herself as a whole, that she can fully grow and bloom into her most powerful and complete self:

This is made clear in Charlie's quest in Cannibal Town. There, our girl is at her lowest, but she is pushing herself forward for the sake of her loved ones. She is trying to imitate Alastor by smiling, even if she is sour inside. However, things do not go well and it is only through her heart to heart chat with Rosie, that Charlie is able to pull herself together and inspire her people. Symbolically, she gets through them not with a 100% optimistic song like "Inside of every demon is a rainbow". Rather she opens her speech, by showing vulnerability and honesty:

It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A billion needy faces I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front Gotta come into my own Gotta come into my throne Gotta take charge and defend my only home And although I kinda feel unsteady Now I need to be ready for this

She affirms who she is and her willingness to grow into herself:

For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed When Adam brings the battle here I must appear like I'm ready for this

So, it is only by tapping into her own shadow that Charlie can be successfull. It is through expression and not repression that she can reach her goals.

What about Alastor?

He is the same, but so far he has been refusing to open up to others:

Angel: He's been here a while and he's still a big, creepy mystery.

That said, his time at the Hazbin Hotel has had an impact on him. He is forced to deal with others without killing them:

Vaggie: Pentious's eggs are all over the place. I need you to get rid of them. (...) Humanely!

He is shown cutting ties with a poisonous friend:

He openly admits he likes the people of the hotel:

Alastor: Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.

However, he still refuses to openly show vulnerability and ends up like this:

Let's highlight that Charlie and Alastor are foiled in The Show Must Go On song.

Both stand in the ruins of their homes/dreams.

The Hotel:

I took a hotel, and I destroyed it I know I could have done better Better, instead of letting you down

The Radio Station:

This place reeks of death There's a chill in the air And I barely escaped being killed by a hair

And both decide not to give up and to keep pursuing their objectives. However, Charlie is framed positively, while Alastor negatively. Why?

Charlie sings about her feelings openly and is supported by her father and found family:

Alastor sings about his pain privately and even then he barely shows his desperation before going back to his villanious mask:

Symbolically the moment Alastor reunites with the Hotel Crew, he sings:

And we're doing it with a smile!

He is back in control of himself, ready to hide everything behind his neverchanging smile.

So, Alastor is both Charlie's negative foil and Jungian Shadow. As her negative foil, he is bound to spiral. As her Jungian Shadow he is bound to be saved. Why is that so? Two reasons.

The Jungian Shadow can't be killed, but needs to be integrated with.

The main themes of the series are redemption and love, so it is improbable that Charlie won't help the person, who co-founded the hotel with her.

If anything, it seems that our princess is progressively asked to forgive, inspire and see the good in more and more complex cases.

It starts with Angel, who willingly stays at the Hotel. It goes on with Pentious, who infiltrates the Hotel, but makes no real damage. Then Lucifer, whom Charlie loves, but that has been absent from the majority of her life. Finally, Vaggie, who breaks Charlie's trust.

Each conflict Charlie has challenges her in a different way and helps her discover herself and grow. She is bound to meet new struggles when Lilith becomes a broken pedestal and finally when Alastor betrays or hurts her. Still, she is going to forgive and to understand them.

Charlie is going to see the good in Alastor and to better understand herself as a result. As a matter of fact Charlie's journey is one where she is slowly discovering a world, which isn't black and white:

If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again

Just like people aren't black and white. Just like she herself isn't black and white. By saving Alastor, she is gonna save herself too. Together with the whole universe.

And what about Alastor? Well, he needs to work on himself, as well. He too must integrate with his shadow, who is embodied by a certain character:

Husk is a powerful overlord, who lost his soul to a demon. Just like Alastor:

Husk: Big talk for someone, who's also on a leash.

Alastor and Husk are both on a leash. Still, Husk admits it and starts working on his shortcoming:

Husk: You're a loser, just like me

Alastor instead affirms his willingness to be in control and to pull the strings:

Once I figure out how to unclip my wings Guess who will be pulling all the strings?

Alastor is a loser, just like Husk. Just like all the characters in hell. Sinners vs Winners. And yet, he refuses to admit it. This is why he makes no progress. Similarly, he wants freedom, but enslaves others. This isn't going to work out, which is why I am fairly certain he will eventually set Husk free. Probably by doing so, Alastor will make the first real step towards his own freedom. He will start integrating his own shadow.

Thank you for the ask!

[probablyasocialecologist]

John Barnett had one of those bosses who seemed to spend most of his waking hours scheming to inflict humiliation upon him. He mocked him in weekly meetings whenever he dared contribute a thought, assigned a fellow manager to spy on him and spread rumors that he did not play nicely with others, and disciplined him for things like “using email to communicate” and pushing for flaws he found on planes to be fixed. “John is very knowledgeable almost to a fault, as it gets in the way at times when issues arise,” the boss wrote in one of his withering performance reviews, downgrading Barnett’s rating from a 40 all the way to a 15 in an assessment that cast the 26-year quality manager, who was known as “Swampy” for his easy Louisiana drawl, as an anal-retentive prick whose pedantry was antagonizing his colleagues. The truth, by contrast, was self-evident to anyone who spent five minutes in his presence: John Barnett, who raced cars in his spare time and seemed “high on life” according to one former colleague, was a “great, fun boss that loved Boeing and was willing to share his knowledge with everyone,” as one of his former quality technicians would later recall. But Swampy was mired in an institution that was in a perpetual state of unlearning all the lessons it had absorbed over a 90-year ascent to the pinnacle of global manufacturing. Like most neoliberal institutions, Boeing had come under the spell of a seductive new theory of “knowledge” that essentially reduced the whole concept to a combination of intellectual property, trade secrets, and data, discarding “thought” and “understanding” and “complex reasoning” possessed by a skilled and experienced workforce as essentially not worth the increased health care costs.

[...]

By now you know what became of Swampy: He was found dead a few weeks ago with a gunshot wound to his right temple, “apparently” self-inflicted, on what was meant to be the third day of a three-day deposition in his whistleblower case against his former employer; his amended complaint, which his lawyer released last week, is the basis for much of this story. It is worth noting here that Swampy’s former co-workers universally refuse to believe that their old colleague killed himself. One former co-worker who was terrified of speaking publicly went out of their way to tell me that they weren’t suicidal. “If I show up dead anytime soon, even if it’s a car accident or something, I’m a safe driver, please be on the lookout for foul play.” 

[atamascolily]

Having examined the first half of Homura's transformation sequence (the external), I thought I'd continue with the second half (the internal). This is a very dense scene full of symbolism I don't fully understand, but I'll give it my best shot.

First up, the spool of pink thread falling through the void. This has appeared several times earlier in the film, in keeping with the whole "threads of fate" imagery, not to mention Homulilly's sewing theme and Homura's own issues with karmic destiny in general (which is inherently linked to Madoka, hence the color).

To me, the background looks like an eye, but admittedly, it's a little abstract and there could be other stuff going on here.

The thread falls past Homura as she is floating in a field of red and yellow "oil drops"

I didn't notice it until the Rebellion Production Note pointed it out but Homura literally has stars in her eyes in this shot. Cosmic!

The thread keeps spinning, but I can't tell if it's winding or unwinding at all because it moves so fast.

Note that the same circles in the background appear elsewhere in the film, most notably in the curtains of Homura's umbrella in the finale.

Homura's pose here also mirrors that of Madoka when she becomes a concept, although notably there is only one Homura here vs. a whole host of Madokas:

Homura then bites down on her soul gem and it cracks... and there's a blink and you'll miss it shot of her intact original soul gem inside!

The circles then move about and form a line, which the thread hits and transforms into the Dark Orb:

The Rebellion Production Note has this to say about the Dark Orb in this scene:

If I'm reading this right, the first caption says, "It's like a perfume bottle", (香水ビン) and the second caption reads, "Contains pink light (Madoka)" [ピンク光まどか) with an arrow pointing to the glowing circle at the center.

So, uh, yeah, in answer to my earlier question, it sure looks like Homura does have access to the Law of Cycles (Madoka) in some capacity, because it's at the core of her reformed Soul Gem--and given the confluence between inside and outside, this is also a model for Homura's universe, as the two are no longer separate from each other.

(I mean, this could be a metaphor for how Homura's love powers the universe and not actually Madoka's powers as the Law of Cycles, but the show has always made its metaphors literal in the past, I don't know why they'd stop now.)

The wings wrapped around the orb didn't make it into the final cut, but after some deliberation, they ended up attached to the salamander that represents Homura instead, because it is a fusion between them.

If you've ever wondered why this sigil was only visible in this shot, it's because it's actually on the bottom of the orb, according to the Production Note, which is why the surface is flat and not curved.

Silverstorm79 pointed out to me that the "dark" part is a cage around the "orb" and I had to go sit down for a while because the symbolism was a little too much even for me. There was also some discussion about whether this makes them literal soulmates now, and I just.... can't even.... Everything in the Rebellion Production Book has to be taken with a grain of salt because a lot of its contents never made it into the final film, but damn if Inu Curry wasn't thinking about it here.

Madoka is also the "heart" of the universe/soul gem--all of which literally exists/was created for her sake. I wonder if this has the side effect of giving her even more karmic destiny/potential than she previously had... and if, so, what would she do with it.

There's a lot in this scene that is still opaque to me (once again I wish SHAFT had been a little less esoteric with their symbolism!!!), but Dark Orb is more complex than I had initially assumed, not to mention representative of both Homura and her new universe. This suggests that changing the universe will require personal transformation on her part; one cannot be accomplished without the other. Going to have to go back and look at the other sections on the Dark Orb in light of these new revelations and see what else I can find about it.

[birdsareblooming]

YOU ARE NOT AFFILIATED WITH ME.

hate when white people do some shit. like bro stop you're making the rest of us look like assholes

[seakicker]

☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.��

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

[jacquesthepigeon]

I have personally seen cases where kids grow up as complete strangers to their heritage especially as is the case with my own cousin in California but that involved multiple factors

1) My aunt was isolated and practically estranged from boricua communities. There is a large latino population in California, yes, but it’s mostly Mexican, not a problem, but it’s drastically different from boricua culture. I cannot describe to you how sad it was to see her express relief at being around her people during holidays for the first time in over a decade.

2) Assimilation and shame was heavily encouraged. My aunt’s MIL, from Mexico, went as far as having her name legally changed to its English equivalent. Over the years since my aunt’s move to the states, there have been multiple incidents where she drastically exaggerated the state of the country and our living conditions (all way before the infrastructure, particularly electricity services, got noticeably Bad) based on sensationalist news articles. It got to the point where she called all of us “idiots” for staying.

Bringing it back to ML

According to a 2019 census, there were 71,500 parisians who reported being born in China, a figure that doesn’t account for descendants of chinese immigrants. That is a far cry from leaving Sabine isolated from her culture. She has ample resources to find and participate in a community of fellow chinese immigrants within the city.

In regards to assimilation and shame, just look at her fucking design and hobbies holy shit. It clearly doesn’t apply to her. As for her english (french?) name, it is a fairly common practice for people from various asian countries to adopt an english name. I’ve seen multiple explanations for this ranging from confucian self naming practices being influenced by exposure to western cultures all the way to workplace culture and convenience. In Sabine’s case, because her chinese name is so similar to her western name, I imagine it’s simply a matter of avoiding the headache of constantly correcting people on the spelling and pronunciation of her chinese name. It sucks that it’s something so many immigrants and even tourists have to do to be addressed respectfully but that’s also worth exploring within the narrative.

Which brings me to why it’s important that we recognize the crew’s intentions and POV when discussing how these characters and dynamics are written. They’re not considering any of these and countless other factors that affect how immigrants and their children interact with their own heritage. They want to be praised and lauded for being “inclusive” and “diverse” simply for commodifying a cultural aesthetic. They have no real concern for the people they’re profiting from or their lives and complexities.

So let’s assume for a moment that despite not being affected by any of the factors that I mentioned influenced my own aunt’s lack of educating my cousin about her culture, that’s still an issue that should be addressed specifically in regards to Sabine’s decisions in raising Marinette rather than pushing the blame onto Marinette for “not expressing interest” and learning on her own. The last few times my cousin has come to visit, we do our best to accommodate her and make her as comfortable as possible but when she inevitably lets it show that she is uncomfortable and would prefer to step away from the situation, my aunt has the nerve to shame her for not liking or participating in her culture. I assure you, my aunt was the only one blaming my cousin as we were all silently judging my aunt as she’s obviously the one responsible for it getting to this point, as we have been doing ever since we knew she wasn’t teaching my cousin spanish. So assuming this is the case with Sabine and Marinette, where Sabine had the means to teach Marinette at the very least the basics, and now Sabine is somewhat resentful of Marinette not figuring it out on her own, that is something that definitely needs to be addressed with close attention and care.

But they won’t.

Sabine is not a chinese immigrant in the interest of other chinese immigrants

Marinette is not a white-passing diaspora child in the interest of other white-passing diaspora children

There is no diversity or representation in this show that isn’t meant to turn them into props to make white men look better, be they fictional or real

That is the issue, not the existence of borderline caricature-esque immigrants or white-passing POC in the real world possibly getting representation. It’s not about them, never has been.

[deqiha]

Soowon is a very complex and interesting character, and one of his traits I like a lot is his idealisation of Yuhon because it actually created a really big issue of Soowon.

Of course, Yuhon was his role model when he was a child, but what about 18 y.o. SW? Did he think of his father so much, to the point that he started questioning some of his words or actions? Or does he still see his father in a perfect light? I've got these questions because while SW is a shrewd and level-headed person, he's been shown to be biased for the first time (as far as I remember; it's been a while since I've read AkaYona) when Yona came to him to vouch for peace between Xing and Kouka.

When I first read this manga, I was a teenager who didn't have a habit of trying to go in depth with characters, but looking at these frames now, I can say that this scene is a big tell of how Soowon sees Yuhon. He is making excuses for his father's unnecessary cruelty, even though Soowon himself, I believe, would never do something like that.

Also, chapter 221 shows that Soowon, in fact, never questioned Yuhon's methods. His father's influence on him never lessened, even after all these years (perhaps because he's been surrounded by Yuhon's supporters since, idk, forever).

He is a king. He has to sacrifice his humanity for the sake of his kingdom - that's what he's been taught by his beloved father, whom he never questioned. ("Please, let me see the board objectively" - I almost fucking cried).

So sweet is the realization that he, in fact, can't do that. He is only a human, after all, someone who already sacrificed his childhood and his closest friends for Kouka people's well-being, and I can't imagine his heart being able to take another loss.

Soowon has basically abandoned himself. The persona he and the adults around him have raised in him is "king" (according to Yuhon's ideals). I believe Soowon isn't introspective; he has been running away from his feelings this whole time, and chapter 221 was the first time he's faced them. It's very fascinating to me: he is always ready to face the consequences of his decisions, but never to face his feelings.

P.S.: I'll be very glad to receive any corrections or different opinions, because, as I said before, it's been a while since I read AkaYona, and the moments mentioned in this posts are the ones I remember vividly.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

can i be honest? im a fan of azul but his dream felt like it lacked impact. there were some very interesting moments and its better than the prediction that he would already be rich and own the world

like really? azul becomes a famous athlete and bullies others, then he takes over night raven? i feel like his struggles with his own identity and food could have been further explored and he is based off of ursula, which should extend to vanessa, right? it was the perfect reason to give him a total makeover and show that he has to be comfortable in his own skin before anything else, even if his other ness was what made him a target of bullying in the first place

your thoughts and worries on book 7 post has affected my perspective and i cant help but feel like something is missing 🥲 maybe all the budget went into Jade and Floyd?

[Referencing this post!]

As I’ve previously expressed, I have a lot of my own complicated feelings about the direction book 7 is taking, specifically with how the OB boys’ dream segments are presented and resolved. Azul’s dream is no different; it felt very contrived due to the formula TWST insists on running with in every new installment. It’s becoming even more apparent with each update, and it is really grating on me.

But!! Before I get to what I believe are shortcomings with Azul’s dream, let’s review what Anon has to say.

I feel like, no matter what, there will always be people claiming that the OB boys’ dreams are “missed opportunities”. This is simply because these characters have much more deep and complex issues than the rest of the cast, so we will naturally scrutinize them more. TWST is basically only able to go with one angle when they tackle the dream, leaving the other threads unexplored. This will surely annoy or disappoint people who wish that TWST would have addressed a different issue instead, or perhaps something closer to their personal interpretation of the events. In Azul’s case, I feel like some people (particularly in the west, not so much in the east) see Azul’s weight concerns or relationship with food as a prominent part of his character, so they wish that book 7 part 10 had looked into that more. However, that was never a big focus in canon, so it follows that TWST would want to dedicate its time and resources to the most pressing thing (which would be more centered on Azul’s general self-confidence, greed, and how those tie into his sense of identity). At the same time, they probably wanted to avoid a lens that is too broad. Having the focus be on Azul’s “otherness” or being an octopus might veer too heavily into something way beyond the scope of the ~10 parts of the story he has to himself.

We also need to consider that these dreams are meant to be shallow interpretations of what the dreamer desires (according to Idia). Only the OB boys get to go more in depth due to bring dragged down into deeper layers of their dreams. Azul wants to be accepted by his peers and is insecure about his lack of athleticism (as one reason why he was bullied was due to not being able to swim as fast as other merchildren). So of course the surface level of his dream makes him a star athlete beloved by all. The whole “his plan succeeds, he steals everyone’s magic, he takes over NRC” thing happens in the second layer of his dream, which, like all previous OB boys, is a dark display of what would have happened had they not been stopped. And finally, Azul being a bully is nothing new—we saw this behavior back in book 3 as well. He became the very thing he despised back when he was a victim, and now he continues to perpetuate that cycle of bullying in an effort to affirm confidence in his “cool” new identity. I think the dream was very intentional in trying to entice him with the promises of power and acceptance. That, in turn, shows us that the desire to be a successful businessman (the thing many of us thought would be his dream) actually hinges on Azul’s longing to be accepted. His struggle with his identity and how it depends on how others perceive him was portrayed. I’m just not sure if the idea was executed in the best way, since it sounds like the message may have gotten muddled along the way and it definitely requires some reading between the lines.

I noticed that you cited my original post where I detailed my concerns about book 7 and how that has influenced your own thoughts 💦 I hope that it just… informed or supplemented your opinions rather than suddenly altered them to be more “in line” with my own. I never want to be the kind of person who claims their interpretations are the “most correct” I’m not Riddle’s mom, okay?? 😭

About Jade and Floyd’s dreams, I feel like those are less heavily critiqued because they, by virtue of not being an OB boy, have fewer stakes and are predominantly there to be silly. It’s like contrasting Epel wanting to be big and buff to Vil literally murdering Neige; there is just no comparison. Even then, I wouldn’t necessarily say Floyd’s and Jade’s parts received “all the budget”… They seemed like pretty basic storylines to me, perhaps dressed up slightly better thanks to the new undersea assets and bioluminescence reveal.

My issues with Azul’s dream segment is how… ham-fisted several elements were. All of it, for the sake of sticking to the pattern already established earlier. It feels so unnatural and stilted because you just KNOW it’s written this way to fit the template 😔 For example:

Why did Jade become SO dumb when they were trying to figure out where Azul had moved the contracts? He’s supposed to be much smarter than how he is presented here. Wouldn’t his immediate thought be to check Azul’s room? But NO, Jade can’t come to that conclusion on his own because we need a contrived reason for each student to use their UM before the ending :/ so Jade has to waste time using his UM to get the truth out of his dream!self.

Jade and Floyd sitting around and going “………….” while they watch Azul make an ass of himself was such a time waster. Clearly you have enough brains to know what would trigger him, so why are you not acting on it???? Oh yeah, because we need to show more cool stuff in this dream like La Grotta!

Azul literally turns to the camera and tells his OB self, “Unlike you, I’ve changed.” It’s way too on the nose with what it’s trying to communicate. It breaks immersion and makes it so obvious the characters are outright stating their character development to make sure we all “get it”.

What was the purpose of Azul using his UM to get the mermobs to sign a contract to give all their power to him???💀 Bro can just say “excuse me, I forgot something back at the Coral Rush field” and they’d probably let him pass. But again, Azul isn’t allowed to do that because he MUST use his UM before the ending. Because Azul’s UM requires that another person willingly agree and sign a contract, his mandatory UM use before the grand finale feels particularly forced.

How many times do I need to listen to Idia/Ortho or other characters warn us about how we can’t have too many people dream hopping or else bugs might happen or Malleus might notice… It’s almost like the devs realize how long this is being dragged out for so they have to remind us every so often.

Not only that, but we get such poorly constructed explanations to keep characters behind while a new character goes with the main group. Why don’t you just leave them all behind once they’re awake then?? Oh yeah, because we NEED to drag along the current student into the next dream so everyone gets a cameo. It’s so inorganic how the characters are chosen to stay behind, Jamil just conveniently volunteers himself while we also listen to another spiel from Silver and Sebek about how their training makes them more stable than the twins to keep dream hopping.

I would actually consider Azul’s dream… serviceable? Like it isn’t fantastic or anything but for what it is, it works. It’s cohesive enough. But god, did I dislike how rigid it was… Nothing happens because it’s natural, it happens because the script demands it happens. To quote another post:

If anyone has played the first Ace Attorney game, this feels a LOT like that part in case 2 where Phoenix is too dumb to check the back of a receipt until Mia literally tells him to. The [characters have] to actively be made stupider because the scenario calls for it, and that really rubs me the wrong way.

[enlitment]

i am curious about robespierre and camille and “doomed by the narrative”, if you are free i would love to learn some more about them since i only have basic frev knowledge!

- @iron--and--blood

Thank you so much for the ask! ✨

The short version is that they started off as school friends and got separated for a couple of years after finishing their studies. Then the revolution started in 1789 and brought them together again by uniting them in their shared goal, only to completely tear them apart in 1794. And by ‘completely tear them apart’, I mean that Robespierre was one of the people who signed the decree for Camille’s arrest which led to his execution in 1794. Talk about star-crossed…

The answer would not have been possible without this great article by @anothehumaninthisworld btw! Definitely go read it if you haven’t already and are craving more information.

Both Camille Desmoulins and Maximilien Robespierre studied at Lous-le-Grand, the former Jesuit school, in Paris. Camille was 2 years younger than Maximilien, but they definitely knew each other, and there is a strong suggestion that they were friends back then. Later, Robespierre calls Camille his ‘study companion’, ‘college comrade’ and (and this will be important later, so just put a pin in that) ‘a talented young man without mature judgement’. Their favourite topic to discuss with each other was apparently the Roman Republic - because of course it was. I also like to imagine they bonded over their enthusiasm for classical authors!

Although two years is not that much of an age difference, a lot of people (including Przybyszewska, who takes it to the max) picked up on the fact that their dynamic was kind of like this:

picture by @did-slid-skid (hope it’s okay to share it, if not then I’ll take it down. Give it a like here!)

…and it sort of continued to be like that until the bitter end, but let’s not get ahead too much.

Once the revolution kicked off and Camille started publishing his first newspaper, he seems to have tried to capitalise on the fact that he knew Robespierre,whose political career at that time was already gaining significant traction (in a bit of ‘I’m so proud of my famous talented friend! Just look at Robespierre! And have I mentioned he is *my* friend?!’ kind of way). At this point, Camille might have had an incentive to exaggerate their closeness a bit to help his own journalistic career.

But I think it’s fair to say their relationship became closer once again sometime during 1790 since Robespierre was not only a witness at Camille’s wedding to Lucile, but he also became a godfather to Camille’s and Lucile’s son Horace, according to some sources. And if not a godfather, then definitely at least an occasional babysitter.

Also not super relevant from a historical perspective but the wedding scene in La Revolution Francaise is very cute, despite the film's many issues:

Then, around late 1793 and the first half of 1794, things got really messy. I mean, they were always really complex of course, it was the revolution and fractions kept forming and falling in quite a rapid succession. I mean messy specifically in regards to Camille. To put something really complicated as simply as possible, Camille started to be associated with the Indudgents/Dantonists - a name coined for the political fraction which included figures like Georges Danton and Fabre d'Églantine, who was involved in a massive corruption scandal.

Around that time, Camille also started publishing a newspaper – La Vieux Cordellier – which criticised the actions of the Committees and as such, came to be seen as something that was actively undermining the authority and the efforts of the revolutionary government.

There was quite a heated public exchange between Camille and Robespierre in January 1794 at the Jacobin Club. It also marks one of the greatest instances of what I like to call ‘using Rousseau as a weapon”.

Basically, Robespierre ordered Camille to destroy the copies of his journal, to which Camille replied by quoting Rousseau and saying "to burn is not to answer." It's important to know that Rousseau was *the* hero of Robespierre - a fact of which Camille was fully aware - so this was meant to cut deep. It must have stung!

Robespierre then replied “Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, one could not have so much indulgence for you”. This to me really illustrates the nature of their relationship at this point in time.

I am not sure how much of this is actually historically accurate and how much is my view based on the interpretations of their relationship in the media, but the sense I get is that Robespierre was quite protective of Camille until he felt like he had no choice but to move against him.

Despite the small age difference, there seemed to have been kind of an older, wiser person in a protective role/younger man led astray (or, if you want to go the Przybyszewka's route, acting like a brat) dynamic. Robespierre is quoted referring to Camille as a ‘spoilt child’. I mean, Camille might have been one of the first people to be called enfant terrible (I swear I saw it somewhere and did not hallucinate it, right?), despite being a man in his 30s.

Camille's whole vibe is somehow 30+ going on 14. Like that's pretty much a historical canon.

But then, in one way or another, the situation reached a point where for Robespierre, the importance of preserving the revolutionary cause outweighed the importance of friendship with Camille - his old college comrade. (DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE!)

In March 1794, Robespierre, as a member of the Committee of Public Safety, was among the people who signed Camille’s arrest warrant and thus, with a stroke of a pen, sealed his fate.

blood and ink parallel etc etc you get it ~

According to Robespierre’s sister, Charlotte, Maximilien tried to visit his friend in prison. I'm including a longer version of the quote because it is fascinating! Przybyszewska includes this supposed event in her play, The Danton case. It is also something which I may or may not have capitalised on in my own writing. Ahem.

"all I know is that my brother had much love for Camille Desmoulins, with whom he had studied, and that when he learned of his arrest and his incarceration in the Luxembourg he went to that prison in the intention of imploring Camille to return to the true revolutionary principles he had abandoned to ally himself with the aristocrats. Camille did not want to see him; and my brother, who would probably have defended and perhaps saved him, abandoned him to the terrible justice of the Revolutionary Tribunal."

An important question though is whether we can trust Charlotte as a source here… (most likely no?) If it were true though, it just screams doomed by the narrative (and own hubris?) to me.

Lucile Desmoulins, Camille’s wife, meanwhile tried to plea for Camille’s release by writing to Robespierre and trying to remind him of his and Camille’s friendship:

Have you forgotten these ties which Camille can never remember without tenderness? You who prayed for out union, who took our hands into yours, you who have smiled at my son and whom his infantile hands have caressed so many times (…) Even if he (…) hadn’t been as attached to the republic, I figure his attachment to you would have functioned as a substitute for patriotism, and you think that for this we deserve death?

(I’m not crying you’re crying)

Lucile’s letter, however, did not help to change Robespierre’s mind and overturn the decision. On 16 Germinal Year II (5th of April 1794), Camille Desmoulins was executed, along with other Dantonists.

Just one more line that always makes me sad, to really rub it in as a special treat – from Camille’s letter to his wife from prison:

“I have dreamed of a Republic such as all the world would have adored. I could never have believed that men could be so ferocious and so unjust.”

Or, as @anotherhumaninthisworld aptly puts it in the tags, Camille and Maximilien’s relationship essentially boils down to this:

(Really funny, but ouch.)

Their relationship also features prominently in the works by S. Przybyszewska, an early 20th century Polish playwright who very much picks up on the potentially queer vibes of Camile's and Maximilien's dynamic and just runs with it. She's much loved by the French Revolution Tumblr fandom for writing what is essentially a beautiful extremely angsty historical RPF in the 1920s.

[chaggiehearts]

I'm gonna be brutally honest: I think it'd be far more satisfying to watch Lute redeeming herself than dying as a villain.

I know a large part of the fandom hates her (although thankfully most people here on Tumblr don't) and I'm not gonna act like I don't understand why. She's a sadistic genocidal woman who won't hesitate to hurt everyone that goes against her corrupted morality. Even outside the series, her words and beliefs might remind a lot of viewers of extremist Christians, and since a lot of us are LGBT we might be reminded of ugly things we've been told in the past (I'll admit that even though I don't interpret that scene as her being homophobic, the "Their love is vile and blasphemous" comment might hurt me if I watch that scene when I'm feeling too sensitive). Lute is clearly not a good person and the series doesn't try to hide this fact at all, specially given her fixation with hurting/mutilating/killing Vaggie. Even though she's my 3rd fave character, I admit that she kinda sucks as a person.

However, I think that all the arguments on why she's irredeemable fail to be convincing once you take something into account: Lute is the Vaggie that never left her Exorcist position.

Their characters are clearly parallels and meant to be narrative foils. Vaggie is what Lute could turn out to be if she admitted she's wrong. Vaggie is my favorite character but I can't deny that before her fall she was despicable too. We know that at the very least she killed 2,000 sinners (going by the "thousandS of Sinners" comment) and I highly doubt the actual amount is that low given the number of Sinners killed by Lute during last Extermination. My personal headcanon is that it's around 10,000-15,000, but we don't know, at least not yet. Vaggie WASN'T a good person, even if she had doubts from the very beginning (which we don't even know if it's true, let's be real here) she still did horrible things. She took part in the Exterminations and, according to Adam, she was one of the most efficient Exorcists (perhaps second only to Lute herself). This is why I adore the dynamic between them, because the mutual hatred comes from the rejection of certain ideals: Vaggie hates what she used to be in the past, which is represented by Lute, a perfect reflection of who she used to be, and Lute hates the idea that Exterminations might be wrong, that she might be wrong, that her entire worldview might be flawed, which is represented by Vaggie.

If Vaggie was able to redeem herself, if we can collectively agree that she regretted her actions and improved as a person, if we can understand that Hazbin's concept is that EVERYONE can be redeemed, even the worst villains, even the nastiest individuals, if we can see that the structure of the Exorcists greatly resembles a sect (I will analyze this better another day, but they're literally a patriarchal sect in which one has to adhere to all of their leader's beliefs and not doing so will result in abandonment, punishment and isolation from your entire circle), isn't it logical to think that Lute might reach the same conclusions as Vaggie one day? Why would Vaggie deserve compassion and forgiveness and a new life and not someone who's overall very similar to her? As I said before, yes, I do understand why people hate Lute more than Vaggie, specially given what she did to her, one of the protagonists, but they're not that different at all. The issue is that we've only seen evil Lute and good Vaggie so far, but the series might explore other aspects of their characters. Hazbin Hotel criticizes the black-and-white mentality of Heaven, Lute's very mentality that has led to what she is right now. Putting Vaggie in one end of a morality scale and Lute in the other is imho a flawed interpretation. They're both in a gray place, they're both complex people.

Lute is going to do horrible things in the future and, if I'm allowed to speculate, I heavily believe she's going to be worse than what Adam ever had the chance to be, way worse than Vaggie ever was. After losing Adam, revenge will probably make her go from evil to downright monster. And honestly, I want to see that fall, that corruption arc (does it count as a corruption arc when the character was already corrupted from the beginning?). I want Lute to metaphorically fall into the darkest pits of Hell. And you know what? I want her to get up after that, start a new life just like what Vaggie did. I think Lute searching for redemption would be a great test on Charlie's ideals, because she probably wouldn't be too enthusiastic about this idea (since her body language in Episode 8 clearly shows that she knows about what Lute did to Vaggie, her role in Vaggie's fall). I think something beautiful might come out of something like this happening. Charlie realizing that she doesn't have to personally empathize with someone to help them become a better person (and the whole concept of redemption being proven right because if someone like Lute can do it then literally anyone can), Lute seeing the error of her ways, growing and searching for the light she lost in the shadows and Vaggie empathizing with one of the residents in a deeper level. Even though Lute doesn't deserve Vaggie's forgiveness, I'd love to see Vaggie extending that forgiveness to her and seeing her past self in Lute, but this time not the merciless Exorcist Vaggie that she hates, but the hurt, lost and scared Vaggie that had just arrived in Hell after her worldview had been flipped entirely. If these two made amends, I think we would be able to see a very sweet new side of Vaggie, because even though she'd love to help Angel Dust, Husk, Cherri Bomb... She'll never fully get how they ended up down there. But she would get Lute, she'd understand how addictive bad actions can be for an Exorcist, the search for purpose and acknowledgement from Adam, the self-righteousness. If there's anyone in that hotel that would know what it's like to be an Exorcist that regrets her actions, that's Vaggie.

In the end, the only thing I'm sure of at the moment is that Lute's story is far from over. Things could go either way and redemption is a viable path for her. Who knows, maybe she'll do something so extremely evil in the future that I lose my faith in her ability to change after that, but for now I'm still holding onto that hope :)

[idrellegames]

Wayfarer 2024 Roadmap

It’s the start of a new year and I’m excited to announce my plans for Wayfarer’s development.

The primary focus for 2024 is finishing Episode 3 and starting Episode 4. My goal has always been to get the alpha build to the point where it is one episode ahead of the public build, and forcing my way through this period has been very difficult. Episode 3 has turned into a more challenging endeavour than I anticipated due to its sheer size and complexity. I did not intend to take over a year to finish it, but if I’ve learned anything from the creative process it’s that it is unpredictable and things never go according to plan.

The 2024 roadmap is for an idealized scenario. I am hoping I have given myself enough wiggle room should things go off-course. With that in mind, the plan for the last 6 months of the years is an estimate and will likely change. Regardless, the goal remains the same: finish Episode 3, finish Episode 4, and release Episode 3 publicly.

Winter • January to March

This quarter will be focused on finishing the next stages of Episode 3. Episode 3 is divided into 4 parts:

Part 1: the beginning of the episode, following the routes that occur if the player ends Episode 2 with Aeran or Veyer. This part is finished and was added to the alpha build in May 2023. It includes over 300,000 words of playable content.

Part 2: the beginning of the episode, following the routes that occur if the player ends Episode 2 with Melchior, alone, or drunk. This part was skipped over and will be returned to at a later date.

Part 3: the middle of the episode, split into three different routes that eventually bottleneck at a specific point. This part is currently in-progress, with Route 1 nearing completion.

Part 4: the episode finale

January and February will be devoted to writing Episode 3 Part 3, which includes finishing Route 1 and completing Routes 2 and 3. In March, I will code that material and playtest it. Once it has been thoroughly playtested, it will be added to the alpha build (playable on my Patreon).

March will also see an update to the public build. Patch 2.7. will not add any new content, but it will patch reported bugs in Episodes 1 and 2 and update some quality of life issues.

Spring • April to June

This quarter will be focused on writing Episode 3 Part 2, the Episode 3 finale, and coding and playtesting all of the remaining material. Should all go according to plan, the Episode 3 alpha will be finished at the end of June. All routes will be playable for members of my Patreon.

The next round of playtester applications will open in May. Playtesters are volunteers who play the alpha build in search of bugs, continuity errors, and typos. They get first access to new content, and updates and patches before anyone else does. Because Wayfarer’s gameplay includes hundreds of choices and many, many variations that build on each other, playing multiple times and checking different options is essential for testing to ensure each area of the game functions as intended.

In June bonus content (short stories, writing tutorials, worldbuilding and lore posts, etc) will return to my Patreon. It is currently on a break, but the backlog of extras and specials are available to members of the Apprentice tier.

Summer • July to September

If the Episode 3 alpha is finished on time, this quarter will start the development of Episode 4. Episode 4 is divided into three separate routes that have no-crossover and each feature a main companion. Alexia’s (Route A) will be worked on in August and Ren’s (Route B) will be worked on in September.

This is an estimated timeline and is subject to change.

Fall • October to December

The last quarter will see the end of Episode 4’s development. This includes Calla’s route (Route C) and additional coding and playtesting. A second round of playtester applications will open in October. If all goes well, December will see the release of the Episode 4 alpha on Patreon and Episode 3 will launch on the public build.

This is an estimated timeline and is subject to change.

[luthienne]

"On April 4, 1967, exactly one year before his assassination, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. stepped up to the lectern at the Riverside Church in Manhattan. [...] Many of King’s strongest allies urged him to remain silent about the war or at least to soft-pedal any criticism. They knew that if he told the whole truth about the unjust and disastrous war he would be falsely labeled a Communist, suffer retaliation and severe backlash, alienate supporters and threaten the fragile progress of the civil rights movement.

King rejected all the well-meaning advice and said, 'I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice. […] A time comes when silence is betrayal' and added, 'that time has come for us in relation to Vietnam.'

It was a lonely, moral stance. And it cost him. But it set an example of what is required of us if we are to honor our deepest values in times of crisis, even when silence would better serve our personal interests or the communities and causes we hold most dear. It’s what I think about when I go over the excuses and rationalizations that have kept me largely silent on one of the great moral challenges of our time: the crisis in Israel-Palestine.

I have not been alone. Until very recently, the entire Congress has remained mostly silent on the human rights nightmare that has unfolded in the occupied territories. Our elected representatives, who operate in a political environment where Israel's political lobby holds well-documented power, have consistently minimized and deflected criticism of the State of Israel, even as it has grown more emboldened in its occupation of Palestinian territory and adopted some practices reminiscent of apartheid in South Africa and Jim Crow segregation in the United States. [...]

Reading King’s speech at Riverside more than 50 years later, I am left with little doubt that his teachings and message require us to speak out passionately against the human rights crisis in Israel-Palestine, despite the risks and despite the complexity of the issues. King argued, when speaking of Vietnam, that even 'when the issues at hand seem as perplexing as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict,' we must not be mesmerized by uncertainty. 'We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision, but we must speak.'

And so, if we are to honor King’s message and not merely the man, we must condemn Israel’s actions: unrelenting violations of international law, continued occupation of the West Bank, East Jerusalem, and Gaza, home demolitions and land confiscations. We must cry out at the treatment of Palestinians at checkpoints, the routine searches of their homes and restrictions on their movements, and the severely limited access to decent housing, schools, food, hospitals and water that many of them face.

We must not tolerate Israel’s refusal even to discuss the right of Palestinian refugees to return to their homes, as prescribed by United Nations resolutions, and we ought to question the U.S. government funds that have supported multiple hostilities and thousands of civilian casualties in Gaza, as well as the $38 billion the U.S. government has pledged in military support to Israel.

And finally, we must, with as much courage and conviction as we can muster, speak out against the system of legal discrimination that exists inside Israel, a system complete with, according to Adalah, the Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights in Israel, more than 50 laws that discriminate against Palestinians — such as the new nation-state law that says explicitly that only Jewish Israelis have the right of self-determination in Israel, ignoring the rights of the Arab minority that makes up 21 percent of the population. [...]

Indeed, King’s views may have evolved alongside many other spiritually grounded thinkers, like Rabbi Brian Walt, who has spoken publicly about the reasons that he abandoned his faith in what he viewed as political Zionism. To him, he recently explained to me, liberal Zionism meant that he believed in the creation of a Jewish state that would be a desperately needed safe haven and cultural center for Jewish people around the world, "a state that would reflect as well as honor the highest ideals of the Jewish tradition.” He said he grew up in South Africa in a family that shared those views and identified as a liberal Zionist, until his experiences in the occupied territories forever changed him.

During more than 20 visits to the West Bank and Gaza, he saw horrific human rights abuses, including Palestinian homes being bulldozed while people cried — children's toys strewn over one demolished site — and saw Palestinian lands being confiscated to make way for new illegal settlements subsidized by the Israeli government. He was forced to reckon with the reality that these demolitions, settlements and acts of violent dispossession were not rogue moves, but fully supported and enabled by the Israeli military. For him, the turning point was witnessing legalized discrimination against Palestinians — including streets for Jews only — which, he said, was worse in some ways than what he had witnessed as a boy in South Africa."

— Michelle Alexander, from her essay Time to Break the Silence on Palestine, as featured in the New York Times in 2019

[sunderwight]

I keep seeing people argue that Aziraphale is "intelligent" or "not a fool" and that this means he can't possibly have fallen for the Metatron's blatant manipulation tactics or still genuinely believe in Heaven's righteousness.

Setting aside the validity of various theories (most of which I at least find interesting, if not outright compelling!) I think there's an issue here, which is that intelligence doesn't protect you from cult-like thinking. Especially not when you've been more or less born and raised in the environment.

In fact, what intelligence tends to do to people who have been indoctrinated into cults (and a cult is exactly what GO Heaven operates like) is give you even more tools for justifying or thinking your way around the contradictions of the cults actions vs message.

We even see Aziraphale do this, several times!

In fact, at the end of S1 doing this is part of what helps save the day. When he points out that Heaven can't know that they aren't defying God's ineffable plan while trying to follow the Great Plan, he's not just talking them into standing down, he's giving them an out. Because the whole Armageddon thing has already gone to shit and cannot proceed without Adam's cooperation, what they're really dealing with at that point is getting Heaven and Hell to accept that without retaliating. Even when Satan shows up it's because he's pissed, not because doomsday is still on.

Aziraphale uses the cult's own logic to give Heaven (and Hell) a plausible reason to back down without completely losing face. They don't have to admit that they were wrong, they can just file everything under "ineffability". Aziraphale pulls this off so well in part because he's been doing this to himself for millennia.

When he doesn't understand or really approve of the Flood, he files it under "ineffability". God has a plan but it's too complex and beyond even angelic comprehension to understand, so there must be a good reason for the Flood, it's just that Aziraphale can't see it. When he sees Heaven being complicit in Job's suffering and the potential murder of his children, he reconciles it by deciding that what God really wants is for him and Bildad to secretly stop it. But he flounders on that later, because to some extent I think he knows that this reasoning is self-serving.

(Knowing it's self-serving doesn't refute it, though, it just means that he worries about that until he talks himself into a bunch of reasons why it's still probably true.)

In S1, when Crowley broaches the subject of the apocalypse, Aziraphale's initial response is to recite the propaganda. It's all going to go according to plan, and it will all be great! When that doesn't work (because of course it won't be great, he's going to end up losing his true home and the person he loves most if this all goes down no matter who wins), he lets Crowley help talk him into how he could thwart the plan without "really" betraying his concept of God.

Basically, if Aziraphale's values come into conflict with Heaven, he decides that God secretly agrees with him. It's very like people who find their values coming into conflict with the institution of their church or temple, and so decide that there's nothing wrong with their actual religion, it's all just normal human corruption (or in GO's case, angelic corruption) muddying the waters of an otherwise purely good thing.

Now in real life of course this gets to be a thorny issue, but keeping it simple there isn't really a total separation between a faith and its institutions. You can't claim that there's nothing in the religion that lends itself to bad takes, just like you also can't claim that any ideology or belief system is invulnerable to corruption. Likewise, even if every bad thing in GO were to turn out to be the fault of Heaven and Hell and not God, God would still be accountable for a lot of the situation because God still set the stage.

But what matters for Good Omens and Aziraphale and this post is that, Aziraphale has put considerable mental energy into justifying how God and Heaven can still be Good and Right even as both of them do things he finds intolerable. Whether it's "God secretly wants me to do what I think is right instead of what I'm being told" or "Heaven has earnestly misinterpreted the will of God due to not knowing as much as I do", he puts his intelligence to use in protecting himself from the kind of revelation that would uproot his worldview.

The only kind of knowledge that actually protects people from cults is the knowledge of how they operate, and awareness that you're dealing with a cult. Aziraphale has a terrible disadvantage on both fronts because even though he's spent years watching humanity get into hot water with this stuff, he does so with the firm perspective that things are different for angels. He can't necessarily apply what works for humans to himself, because he knows he's a different kind of being (and unlike with IRL cults, it's actually true in his case, though I think demons and angels are both less different from humans than they believe).

Though, interestingly, he's closer to a accepting the truth when it comes to the differences between angels and demons. In S1 he is fully confident that he could possess someone, because even though angels don't do that, demons can. Whether he admits it or not, Aziraphale really does believe that Crowley is not meaningfully different from himself in terms of personhood or ability. If he can make the leap to the idea that angels and demons are not exempt from human-oriented concepts of self-determination and free will and unfair treatment by authority, and reconcile it with his own intense distress at challenging a core belief, then the fact that he's quick on the uptake will really start to work in his favor.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Evidence that supports gender-affirming care (like that for puberty blockers and hormones) is treated with enormous suspicion. It’s not just that more research should ideally be done—the recommendations read as if the findings from that future research are already known, and that those findings are very bad. Meanwhile, evidence that stands against such care is usually assumed to be fine, regardless of how weak it truly is. Large studies showing benefits for puberty blockers and hormones are mostly ignored because they are weak data (which is true—but it doesn’t mean they’re worthless). And yet, a single psychiatrist’s opinion is used to imply that pornography may be making young girls trans. The primary reason that the review gives for recommending a ban on puberty blockers is that these drugs may cause issues with psychosexual development, but the citation used to support this is an opinion piece describing a short series of laboratory experiments where rats and mice had their sexual organs removed. The Cass Review never discusses how or why this relates to human children.

[...]

The point is that the Cass Review’s most contentious recommendations are not scientific—they are opinions. The authors believe, without evidence, that puberty blockers are so harmful that transgender children should never have access to them (there is no ban for cisgender children). Hormones are similarly mysteriously problematic. According to the review, even social transition is potentially more harmful than it is helpful. None of these opinions are based on hard facts. The key scientific finding of most of the review was that we are uncertain about treatments, but that’s true of half of medicine, if to varying degrees. In most cases, we deal with uncertainty by recommending less intensive stuff first, and then moving on to more potentially harmful things later, informing patients of the risks along the way. In the case of psychological treatments and medications for depression in children and adolescents, the guidelines generally recommend first trying the psychological therapies we know have a clearer benefit, then moving on to medicines if those don’t work. The Cass Review could have recommended a similar approach to gender medicine, but instead went with one that has instead been held up to support outright bans on services for transgender children.

9 October 2024

[pwhl-mybeloved]

The Professional Women’s Hockey League is officially preparing for expansion.

The league — with six franchises in Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa, Minnesota, Boston and New York — will add up to two teams as early as the 2025-26 season.

League officials have not shared where they plan to send their request for proposals — which marks the first step in expansion — only that the league is looking for the right market size, fan base, facilities and economic opportunity.

“It’s about finding the best market, the best fan base and the best partners,” Jayna Hefford, the PWHL’s senior vice president of hockey operations told The Athletic after Tuesday’s announcement.

It’s still very early in the process, but here are our top eight potential PWHL expansion teams.

Pittsburgh

It’s fair to imagine Pittsburgh will be among the top contenders for expansion. The Penguins — backed by Fenway Sports Group, which owns the Penguins, the Boston Red Sox and Liverpool F.C. — have been staunch in their support for women’s hockey and desire for an expansion franchise.

The Penguins hosted a PWHL game at PPG Paints Arena last season with almost 9,000 fans in attendance — the ninth-most attended game in the regular season. A women’s team could play its home games at PPG or at an expanded Lemieux Sports Complex in Cranberry Township, which is around 22 miles north of the team’s downtown arena.

The facility serves as the Penguins’ practice facility with two NHL-sized sheets of ice and land on which to build. Penguins president of business operations Kevin Acklin has suggested that a new third sheet of ice, with seating in line with modern arenas for NCAA Division I programs, could serve as a base of operations for a PWHL team. That would include offices for management and coaches, locker rooms, training and medical areas — essentially anything and everything a professional team would require, want and “deserve,” Acklin told The Athletic in January.

Games could also easily be broadcast on SportsNet Pittsburgh – a regional sports network FSG acquired in 2023 – which already carried some PWHL games last season, even without a team based in Pittsburgh.

Detroit

The city affectionately known as “Hockeytown” would be a natural choice for an expansion franchise. Hefford basically said as much at the neutral site game hosted at Little Caesars Arena last season, which set a U.S. record for attendance at a women’s professional hockey game (13,736).

“It just seems like an obvious (spot) for a hockey market that we’d love to be a part of,” she said. “And although not in our Original Six, it’s somewhere that we still, I think, have our eyes on. And tonight has just been another proof point that this is a market that loves hockey and I think loves women’s hockey.”

Given the attendance at the game last season and the fight for a Division I women’s team at the University of Michigan, there is an appetite for women’s hockey in the state and a strong grassroots system, with programs like Little Caesars and HoneyBaked Hockey Club. According to USA Hockey, Michigan ranked fourth in female hockey registration last season only behind Minnesota, Massachusetts and New York – three states that already have PWHL franchises.

The biggest issue with Detroit is the venue. The Red Wings and the NBA’s Detroit Pistons are full-time occupants at LCA, which also hosts plenty of concerts and other events. USA Hockey Arena in Plymouth, Mich., less than 30 miles outside of Detroit, is a potential alternative, but with a 3,500 capacity it would be on the small side.

PWHL fans can pack venues such as Scotiabank Arena in Toronto. But what’s the best size and scope for every game of the season? (Mark Blinch / Getty Images)

Washington, D.C.

Before the PWHL officially selected its original six markets, D.C., often came up as a potential landing spot, and it made a lot of sense. The Washington Capitals hosted two successful Professional Women’s Hockey Players’ Association events that served as the barnstorming precursor to the PWHL. Back in April, Monumental Sports & Entertainment majority owner Ted Leonsis told CNBC he wants to make D.C. “the capital of women’s professional sports.”

Like Pittsburgh, a Monumental-backed PWHL team would have broadcast infrastructure via the Monumental Sports Network. But, like Detroit, it could struggle to find an appropriate – or available – arena. Capital One Arena hosts the Capitals, the NBA’s Washington Wizards and the Georgetown men’s basketball team. The Capitals practice facility, where the PWHPA events were held, only has seating for around 1,200. Entertainment & Sports Arena – home of the WNBA’s Washington Mystics, which is also owned by Monumental – would be an upgrade in size with around 4,100 seats, but it’s unclear if the facility has the capacity to accommodate a hockey rink.

Chicago

If the PWHL wants to lead its first wave of expansion with a major American sports city, Chicago will be tough to beat.

It’s a strong grassroots hockey market, with several youth programs and a number of notable home-grown national team players including Hockey Hall of Fame inductee Cammi Granato, Kendall Coyne Schofield, and Abbey Murphy – who could graduate from college and be the team’s first-ever draft pick. You have to admit, that would be very cool.

Not to sound like a broken record, but the venue will be the biggest hurdle when it comes to a city like Chicago.

The United Center is likely too big and too busy. Wintrust Arena, where the WNBA’s Chicago Sky play, is interesting with around 10,000 seats. But it’s largely a basketball venue. Could it facilitate a sheet of ice? That remains to be seen.

Allstate Arena, home to the AHL’s Chicago Wolves, seems like an easy alternative. It’s around 20 miles from the downtown core in Rosemont, Ill., where Chicago’s O’Hare Airport is located. It’s a big venue (18,500), but shouldn’t be as hard to get in as the United Center.

It’s also worth noting the Minnesota Frost are the only team in the American Midwest; a Chicago expansion could fix that.

St. Louis

Speaking of Midwestern cities, St. Louis checks a lot of the boxes. It’s a dedicated hockey market – the Blues’ attendance figures have hovered around 18,000 for over a decade now – with strong girls youth hockey participation.

The Blues have invested in growing girls and women’s hockey in St. Louis, with learn-to-play programs and previously hosting PWHPA events. CEO Chris Zimmerman has also been open about the team’s desire to host a PWHL game in the city.

Figuring out facilities in St. Louis seems less complicated than some other destinations. The Blues are the primary tenant at the Enterprise Center and have a new $83 million practice rink just outside of the city, the Centene Community Ice Center. The facility is home to the NCAA DI Lindenwood hockey teams and has capacity for over 4,500 people – a fine size for a new franchise.

The Minnesota Frost are currently the only PWHL team in the American Midwest. Expansion to Chicago or St. Louis could add another. (David Berding / Getty Images)

Halifax

While the first five cities on this list have been in NHL markets, a potential NHL partnership is not a prerequisite. Neither is being in the United States, although there certainly seem to be more major U.S. markets than what might be possible in Canada. That being said, Halifax is an interesting prospect, especially if the league wants to consider markets outside of Ontario or the greater Toronto area.

Nova Scotia is a smaller province than Alberta, Manitoba or British Columbia but it is geographically closer to where the league currently operates, which is largely in Northeastern U.S. cities and Eastern Canada.

The Scotiabank Centre – home of the CHL’s Halifax Mooseheads – has a capacity of around 11,000 and will host Game 6 of the Canada-USA Rivalry Series in February. The arena also hosts pro lacrosse. Truthfully, it would be surprising if Halifax was the seventh PWHL franchise, but the Rivalry Series game could prove to be an critical audition for pro women’s hockey in the Maritimes.

Quebec City

On Wednesday, the PWHL officially announced Quebec City will host a neutral-site game between Montreal and Ottawa this season. City councillor Jackie Smith has already called the game the first step to landing an expansion franchise in Quebec City, according to the Associated Press.

Quebec City has an NHL-caliber rink – the 18,000-seat Vidéotron Centre where the neutral-site game will be played – that could host a full-time PWHL team with little to no scheduling issues.

Not to mention, the city is a hockey hotbed that hasn’t had a major professional hockey team since the Nordiques left in 1995. The Los Angeles Kings and Boston Bruins played in front of a packed building during this year’s NHL preseason. The Quebec Remparts, the city’s QMJHL team, are typically among the leaders in attendance across the CHL.

It’s easy to imagine the city embracing a PWHL team.

Western expansion

League officials have said they are not putting any guardrails on potential expansion franchises – meaning they aren’t shutting down expanding far outside its current footprint.

Calgary has had successful women’s professional sports franchises in the past – the CWHL’s Calgary Inferno won the last-ever Clarkson Cup in 2019. The Seattle Kraken hold the record for attendance at a U.S. women’s national team game on American soil (14,551). The Vancouver Canucks are a billion-dollar-franchise and British Columbia has become a hotbed for elite young talent, including Canadian phenom Chloe Primerano. There’s California to consider, too, where many of PWHL owner Mark Walter’s franchises – the Los Angeles Dodgers, Los Angeles Lakers and Los Angeles Sparks – are currently based.

There are places in Western Canada and the Pacific Northwest that could and eventually should be home to PWHL franchises. However, adding a team on the other side of North America would come at a significant cost at a really early – and still growing – stage of the business.

Of course, it’s all going to depend on what is proposed. If, say, the Seattle Kraken are offering the kind of support and infrastructure we saw during the Rivalry Series, maybe the league won’t be able to say no.