#maybe it is just that i have two siblings with radically different experiences and personalities

[glitteratti]

i know i make this post once a week but oh my god. it is so absolutely embarrassing to be 25 and still so incredibly sad about my high school experience

[wutheringskies]

"Well, personally, I don't think MDZS characters are on the spectrum?"

oh. not even Lan Zhan? (or Song Lan?) I'm autistic and it's genuinely impossible for me to not read him that way. Especially the part where your personal morals clash with the chaos and messiness of the outside world. He's my favorite because I felt his journey and growth as a character deep in my soul. Idk about other autistic people but to me it was always the most painful thing: holding on to my values while trying to be more flexible and not attacking people or cutting them off for minor offenses. Over the course of the story,Lan Zhan manages to mature,understand Wei Ying better,and become more flexible without becoming disillusioned or passive,so he's really an ideal in that sense.

Sorry,I ranted too much again

"No wonder why Jiang Yanli, though a little more aware due to her sex and standing, gives the same vibes? like a sort of lost, good, kind vibe?"

Yes! yes! Those are exactly the vibes. I was just joking to someone a while ago that both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have been raised by the exact same older sibling figure. Honesly that puts Yanli and Xichen's achievements in perspective,cause they both encouraged or allowed their younger siblings to be idealistic and righteous,instead of stifling those impulses,which is a choice and a great thing.

And yes,unlike Lan Xichen,Jiang Yanli is that passive mostly because of her status and sex. And because of being traumatized by a horrible abusive narc mom.

They should have been allowed to have like a soup and flute club together every sunday or something. The friendship would have done them good. (Maybe let Wen Ning join too)

Anyway,thank you for replying! It was fun talking to you!

Hey! I'm really sorry for not seeing this before. I forgot to open my inbox.

Yes, I personally do not perceive MDZS characters on the spectrum. There are two reasons for this - firstly, Lan Zhan's character is very well written. Personally, I did not feel the need to enhance him. I think you can call me a bit of 'canon purist,' that is, I derive most pleasure from improving my understanding of a literary work to be as close as possible to authorial intent (I am of course, open to divergences, enhancements, and all sorts of stuff. But if we go by my 'default' setting, it is this.)

Secondly, I would count as a neurotypical person. I think you'd agree that in many fandoms, the 'quiet' or 'just a little bit weird' person, as well as the cheery, energetic person are often immediately headcanonned as neurodivergent. Thus, I guess I felt like doing so to Lan Zhan etc might be me leaning heavily into stereotypes! In my personal experience, my close cousins - though diagnosed similarly on the spectrum, had extremely varying thinking processes.

However, it is enlightening to know more about why you characterized him as such - especially about becoming more comfortable in his skin. Lan Zhan is also my favourite character, though for different reasons. I can relate to his desire to perform each task with excellence, preference for quietude, and struggle with his dominant orientation. How he tried his hardest to be a liberal, before becoming radicalized. The struggle of being someone who respects traditional and societal values, but has his own strong personal ideals, morality and desires that cannot co-exist with them :( It's tragic how he wished to protect the one he loved, tried but wasn't good at expressing himself, wasn't powerful enough to guarantee peace, wasn't politically smart enough to change things, wasn't strong enough to fight the whole world for him, and eventually, he was even unwanted by his lover, who was hurt by him. Thus, exiled by love and punished by his clan, he really had nothing to look forward to. Yet, he choose to rise up, day after day and make the differences he could make.

I think his persistence and his healing is the most impressive thing about him for me. How he was inadequate but then, became someone who could protect Wei Ying.

There's no need to apologize! I quite love your takes and rants. (PS - please don't take my stating I am a canon purist as a form of discouraging thought. That is only for my personal satisfaction!)

I totally agree. I wish to add Xiao XIngchen to this club. In a highly tense political environment, these characters were adorably in need of some splash painting and crafts sessions. I'd love to put all of them together in some club in a Modern AU. Jiang Yanli will cook, Lan Xichen will paint and play sad, and funky melodies, Wen Ning will help and Xiao Xingchen will laugh at everything.

[helioleti]

I've been rewatching ATLA several times lately and this time I especially ended up wondering a lot about Iroh and Ozai's past and characters in general. I just can't help but think it weird that Ozai is the ultimate trashbag of a humanbeing while Iroh ended up preaching harmony and peace. It just doesn't make any sense. These guys are brothers. They were brought up by the same parents, in the same fascist imperialistic nation, they were taught the same values growing up. You're trying to tell me the difference is that Iroh was destined to be the person he eventually came to be, but Ozai was just born evil? No, I don't think so.

I have two hot takes that I'm gonna elaborate:

1. Iroh had a guidance Ozai lacked

2. Ozai was the less favored son

(Disclaimer: I haven't read the comics yet so I don't know how deep they've already gone into this subject at some point. I'm trying to interpret and analyze the stuff that I got from the animated series only. If anything I say contradicts what has already been confirmed in the comics, feel free to correct me.)

Hear me out. Iroh wasn't born a saint. Everyone is aware of this, especially Iroh himself. He laid siege to Ba Sing Se for 2 years, costing the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom thousands of lives. Everyone knew that if the Fire Nation took over the capital, it meant almost ultimate victory for the Fire Nation. He even went as far as making a offhand sadistic jokes about burning the city to the ground in that letter to Zuko and Azula.

Iroh acknowledges it himself; He was a different man.

So what changed?

Yes, his son died. It broke and shattered him from the inside, making him drop all efforts to continue fighting in the war. To continue what had been his lifelong ambition, what he believed to be his destiny. He had a literal vision about taking over Ba Sing Se when he was a child, and that had been what he'd been pursuing ever since. But the death of his son managed to crumble all of that into nothingness. How is that possible?

Don't get me wrong. I think it's completely valid. I just don't understand how Lu Ten and Iroh could've had such a loving and caring relationship in the first place, when that's clearly something unusual among the royal family. Ozai burned and banished Zuko without a second thought, not to mention all the other shit he did to him growing up. Ozai didn't give two shits about Azula either, he only ever intended to use her as his weapon. Doesn't seem too surprising, if you ask me. Azulon didn't hesitate to demand that Ozai kill his own son if he wanted the throne. That's the man that raised Ozai, so it's just logical that Ozai learned that behavior and those values from his own father.

Even 9 year old Azula thinks it laughable that Iroh would fall apart at the death of his son. She is a child and this is how she thinks. The reason Zuko doesn't think like this is because he's had the guidance of his mother, unlike Azula. This is the kind of mentality these kids grow up with. They grew up with war and so did Iroh and Ozai.

So why was Iroh's relationship with Lu Ten so different? Where did Iroh experience the kind of compassion and love he passed on to his own son, that Ozai definitely didn't? People act on how they've come to learn, so where did Iroh learn to care about his son to a point that it made him give up on his lifelong ambition?

Let's review a very crucial information we have on Iroh and Ozai as siblings: They have a huge age gap.

Frankly, I'm guessing about 10-20 years. Looks more like 20 to me, but that could also be Iroh's greater amount of endured pain and war making him look older than he actually is. But no one can deny that an age gap is definitely there. Which can also indicate they had different upbringings, despite having grown up in the same family as brothers.

What does this mean? Well, that's just me theorizing now, but I can definitely imagine that Iroh had someone, a family member maybe, there for him who wasn't around or didn't care to be when Ozai grew up. There must've been someone there who gave Iroh emotional security and guidance throughout his upbringing. Who? That's up to imagination. A friend of the family? A friendly uncle? His own mother ((or father))? (The last two things worked out for Zuko in the end, didn't they?) Otherwise I can't really explain myself why Iroh had enough values to love the way he loved Lu Ten, while Ozai clearly didn't give two fucks about his children at any point in his life.

Iroh was the firstborn son, the one who had a vision very early in his life that his destiny was to take over Ba Sing Se. Probably the one who got to have a family member care about him enough to show him how to love.

(I like to point this out a lot because I find it very interesting, and very significant. Please A:TLA give us more info on Iroh's past!!)

Which brings me to my second take: Ozai was the less favored son.

Iroh was clearly a son to be proud of. He was a master firebender, the "Dragon of the West", if you will. He apparently had a vision as a boy that he'd conquer the most "impenetrable city" in the world. He probably lived up to his parent's expectations for his whole life, especially having no sibling to be compared to for a significant part of his life. He broke through the outter wall of Ba Sing Se during his siege. Yada yada yada, you get my point. He's the best son they could've wished for.

And Ozai? As far as I know, he barely even has any military achievements. Taking over Ba Sing Se was Azula's doing. While Iroh laid siege to the capital, he was at home chilling in the palace. He's the younger brother to an established hero and was never meant to be firelord. Now, I haven't read the comics for more info on Ozai's biography, but this man barely had a chance to live up to his parent's standards with Iroh as an older brother. If my theory is correct, Ozai also didn't have any person to provide him emotional guidance throughout his life. (*cough* like Azula)

The logical outcome is: infinite jealousy.

And when Ozai suggests to Azulon that he revoke Iroh's birthright to become firelord, this is Azulon's answer:

Azulon doesn't even hesitate to call Ozai out on his bullshit. He doesn't hesitate to take offense at the suggestion of betraying Iroh, and he even seems to care about Iroh's suffering. Not to mention that Azulon is overall annoyed with Ozai's request for an audience and sends the rest of Ozai's family away as soon as he can, to get whatever it is Ozai wants over with.

I could also mention the fact that Ozai tried to impress Azulon with his daughter's skills (Azula, even named after him) and the overall strained relationship these two seem to exhibit. It's obviously very different from Azulon's relationship with Iroh, if the way he talks about said man is anything to show for.

What if Azulon treated Ozai the same way Ozai treated Zuko? (Probably without the physical abuse, but you get my point.) What if this is where Ozai learned to treat a "useless" kid like shit, maybe also in a way to cope with how he was treated himself?

Getting deeper into the fact that Ozai is rather a loser compared to Iroh, without any big military achievements and without value for anything beyond that, this also explains a lot about Ozai's constant need to establish his dominance.

First; Becoming Firelord through radical manners (you know, killing his own son or killing his own father)

Second; Publicly burning and banishing his own son whom he considers a weakling, who dared to speak up in his war room. Doing this to have everyone know that he doesn't associate himself with weakness and that he will not ever tolerate any form of disrespect.

Third; The whole Phoenix King act. No one can tell me this isn't a madman's doing. This is literally to show off that he is the most powerful person in the world.

Ozai is so obsessed with proving himself and his superiority to everyone, including himself and probably Iroh too. This makes most sense if we consider that he probably lived in his brother's shadow for his whole life, ignored by probably every guiding figure he's ever had in his life, maybe even considered a laughingstock by his own father.

Perhaps this is also the reason Ozai didn't have any problem with Iroh accompanying Zuko in banishment. His brother, the hero in whose shadow he grew up, and his son, the failure he'd wanted out of the way for a long time already. It would erase Iroh's image that made him superior to him, once and for all. For himself and the world. I believe that branding him a traitor was the biggest satisfaction Ozai had ever experienced in his life.

I absolutely despise Ozai with every fibre of my heart, but it amazes me how ATLA continues to leave so much room for interpretation and explanation for a character as despicable as him. Writing this, even had me feel sympathy for him at some point. Feel free to disagree with me or add anything, I'm eager to hear everyone's thoughts about Ozai and Iroh's backstories because I'm geniuinely very curious.

[gendercensus]

hey i’m a nonbinary person and ive seriously been wondering if i should be calling myself enby or nb?? because i heard that nb means ‘nonblack’ as well and i want to respect that but so many of my nonbinary mutuals still call themselves nb. maybe its just their ignorance but i’m conflicted

I don’t usually like to wade into social justice issues because my focus is language, but this question kind of fits my narrow lane of “gender and language” so maybe I’ll give it a try! Having said that, I’m not sure that I can really be any kind of authority on this. No one has ever criticised me for using NB to mean nonbinary instead of non-black, because I never abbreviate it. Also, while I am interested in and sometimes vocal about race issues online, I’m white and don’t really talk about race issues relating specifically to black people much - I grew up in an ethnic majority area that was mostly South-Asian, so my experience is mostly in that kind of cultural background.

I don’t think a particular community can have a monopoly on an abbreviation. It’s okay for abbreviations to mean different things in different contexts. But I do think it makes sense to be somewhat aware of when and how you abbreviate. Abbreviations only make sense when it’s clarified or clear from context what exactly you mean, and misunderstandings can lead to offence.

So, as an example, I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which is frequently abbreviated to EDS. I have only ever seen EDS used to abbreviate Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. I mentioned it in a social network account once, referring to it as EDS, and had someone ask me which EDS I meant. It turns out that even in a medical context EDS can mean several different things.

Like, there’s “lack of clarity due to lazy/careless typing” and “deliberately using misleading language in order to Claim an abbreviation for a particular marginalised group”, and the latter is much shakier ground. It doesn’t sound like you’re in the second camp. In cases of the former, I’d encourage some thoughtful proof-reading.

So yeah, based on the idea that no one can culturally claim an abbreviation, it seems like using your common sense in order to avoid misunderstandings will pretty much thwart in advance any potential issues regardless of whether it’s insensitive?

So I guess my advice would be:

In discussions about the intersection of race and gender, don’t abbreviate nonbinary or non-black at all.

In conversations that are extremely obviously entirely about gender and don’t mention race and there’s no racial context, there’s nothing ambiguous going on, abbreviating nonbinary is probably fine? “My sibling just came out as nb!” “Oh what are their pronouns?”

Similarly, in conversations that are only about race and don’t mention gender, and there’s no ambiguity anywhere, abbreviating non-black is probably also fine? “Honestly, my nb friends have no idea what it’s like living in fear of a systemically racist police system.”

If you’re not sure or it’s a bit ambiguous and you intend to continue using NB to refer to gender issues, you can take the academic approach: “Many nonbinary (NB) people...” and then after that it’s clear that when you say NB you mean nonbinary.

If you’re not sure or it’s a bit ambiguous and you intend to continue using NB in a race context, you can take the academic approach: “Many non-black (NB) people...” and then after that it’s clear that when you say NB you mean non-black.

Don’t do both of those last two in the same document and you’ll probably be fine! (Or I don’t know, maybe go wild and try nB = nonbinary and Nb = non-black, get creative with it as long as it’s easy to read and keep track of, unlike my radical example here.) I think probably if your intentions are good and you’re trying to be respectful and clear, you’ll probably be fine.

[rora-s]

The Derivative Chapter 15: Seventeen

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 14

I came trudging into my uncle's office and threw my backpack down in his chair. The three men within the office gave me a concerned look. “Trouble adapting to college life?” Charlie inquired.

I let off a breath leaning on the desk “college students are better but no less annoying than high schoolers” I declared “I just talked to a girl in one of my classes who asked and I quote ‘are you visiting on a high school field trip?’” I mocked the girl's squawky voice.

Don chuckled slightly “well you are sixteen. Not a lot of kids your age running around these halls”

“She sees me every other day in our class. She borrowed my pencil once” I exclaimed indignantly.

“Ah it seems this fair student was wrapped in her own world to the point of tuning the rest out” Larry declared.

“Yeah or she’s just an asshole” I muttered then glanced at the computer screen on the desk “is that some kind of code?”

“Yes it’s a rolling code for a car remote” Charlie explained, holding up the remote in question in his hand. “It’s actually part of a kidnapping case”

“Kidnapping?” I questioned.

Don sighed and shot his brother a look “yeah it’s a case we’re working.”

I nodded, resisting the urge to ask if I could help. Just then my phone alarm went off. “I have class” I sighed, turning off the alarm and grabbing my backpack.

“I’ll walk with you,” Don offered. I nodded and waved farewell to Charlie and Larry as we exited the office. We only got a couple feet from the door before Don was talking again “so your birthday is this weekend.”

“What? Really? I had no idea” I replied sarcastically.

Don scoffed “I was just wondering if you wanted to do anything? I mean just me and you could hangout or we could have a barbecue at the house with everybody. Whatever you want” he shrugged.

“Uh yeah a barbecue would be cool” I murmured the grip on my backpack tightening a bit.

“You sure?” Don asked. I glanced over to see him looking at me with mild concern in his features.

“Yeah fine” I assured him as we reached the door to my classroom “it’s just…” I hesitated “don’t worry about it it's nothing”

“Okay” Don nodded “have fun on your field trip” he teased.

“Ha ha very funny” I muttered a small smile on his face. He turned to leave and I ducked into the classroom. There was a sinking feeling in my gut and another feeling that I couldn’t quite place and didn’t really like.

________________

3rd POV.

“And no, no contact, in almost seven hours” Don murmured looking at the board set up in the war room. “What the hell are they after?”

“I still think Erica Logan has to be the key” Megan declared standing up as Don began to pace the room. “This kind of radical shift in behavior? There has to be some sort of trigger.”

“Trigger?” David questioned from his seat “like what?”

“I can tell you what a textbook would say,” Megan explained. “Statistically, it’s things like a near-death experience. A person can exhibit an extreme shift in behavior if they survived a plane crash. Another could be a person who’s told they only have a month to live, may act on fantasies of an alter ego.”

“Doesn’t fit, though in this case” Colby objected. “The autopsy would have flagged that.”

“All right, so what else?” Don inquired leaning on the table.

“Uh, parental instinct” Megan offered “the perception of a serious threat to a child.”

“That also doesn’t fit” Colby spoke up again “I mean, her father said she doesn’t have kids, right?”

Don thought about his talk with the man for a second and the pictures in the house realization hitting him “but there was a brother, right?” he asked, gesturing to David who had also been there for the interview “the old man said she practically raised him.”

“Yeah,” David nodded in agreement, sitting up in his seat.

“A younger sibling could be the trigger, if they had developed that kind of relationship” Megan agreed.

“Younger brothers can definitely be a trigger, trust me on that one” Don stated with an edge of humor before going back to business mode turning to David “why don’t you go talk to the old man see if you can get an address on the son.” the agent nodded and started grabbing his things “I mean, I want to get everything we can on this kid, right?”

Colby grabbed his things and followed David out of the room. When it was just them Megan turned to Don. “Speaking of parental instincts, how's that daughter of yours doing?”

“Abby? She’s fine” Don shrugged.

“Really? I mean it can’t be easy being a sixteen year old kid in college” Megan voiced.

Don scoffed “she complains less about it than she did about high school so” he shrugged.

“Well since she’s in a house full of men. Why don’t you tell her if she ever needs a woman’s advice she can have my number” Megan offered.

“Thanks” Don smiled at his partner before she turned and left. Don shifted some files and thought a bit to himself. He’d never thought about it before but Abby was constantly surrounded by guys. The only female influence in her life right now that he could think of was Amita. Was that why she had been so weird about the barbecue?

Don doubted it. Maybe he was just coming to weird conclusions. Maybe the barbecue wasn’t even an issue and she was just preoccupied with the class she was about to walk into when he asked. No, she had a look on her face that told him she wasn’t happy about something. He just had no idea what and now he had to figure it out.

As he turned to leave the board caught his attention again. Parental instincts could change behavior. He thought that was a bit of an understatement.

_______________

Abby POV.

“Oh come on Charlie it couldn’t have been that bad.” Alan objected from the kitchen as the mathematician sulked at the dining room table.

“Actually, I truly can’t explain how awful it was,” Charlie muttered as Alan came out and sat a mug of hot tea down in front of his son and two plates of cake, one for him and one for me.

“Oh, I don’t understand it.” Gramps grumbled “You and Amita. You always got along so well.”

Charlie shrugged “I’m just as confused as you are”

“Yeah well, maybe it’ll be better next time, hmm?” Alan suggested as I just ate my cake and read quietly.

“Yeah, I don’t think there’s going to be a next time in the future” Uncle C sighed as my father entered the house through the front door.

“No, no, you do not give up.” Alan objected. “You never give up”

“Who’s giving up what?” Don inquired.

“Charlie. He blew his first date with Amita” Gramps informed.

“And he’s being very pouty about it,” I added, earning me a small glare from my uncle.

“I wouldn’t say that I- I blew it, Dad or that I’m pouting” the professor objected. “I mean that’s…” he trailed off as Alan gave him a look “yeah, maybe I blew it.”

“And are pouty” I chimed in and got another half hearted glare.

“Wait, what happened, buddy?” Don asked, shedding his coat.

“It’s just we found out that we really don’t have much to talk about outside math” Charlie explained as Gramps got to his feet.

“And you can’t talk about math because?” I questioned.

“Well it’s our work and we want to talk about more than just work” Charlie muttered.

“Oh, man.” Don sighed “Yeah, I know about that. Maybe it’s an Eppes thing you know? When Terry and I started dating, the first thing we said was we weren’t going to talk about work, right? You know, not a word.”

“Don’t say it’s an Eppes thing cuz that curses me too” I complained.

“Hey last I checked your last name was still Calvin so you get exempt” Don pointed out.

“So, how’d you work it out?” Alan inquired, handing his eldest the beer he had just retrieved from the kitchen. “With Terry?’

“Well, I mean, she’s back with her ex but..” Don murmured.

“That’s really very encouraging,” Charlie grumbled sarcastically.

“I didn't mean it like that” Don objected with a slight chuckle “I’m sorry. It’s different with you guys. You’ll work it out.” Charlie just let off a breath. “Meanwhile, I’m hitting a wall with this case.”

“You haven’t found them yet?” Charlie inquired.

“Found who?” Alan asked as Don headed back into the foyer to grab his file off the table.

“A mother and her eight year old daughter, kidnapped.” Don informed heading into the living room with his file.

“That’s horrible,” Alan declared.

“This is the same case with the car key code thing?” I asked.

“Yeah” Charlie replied with a nod as the three of us stood to follow Don into the living room. I brought my book and slice of cake with me.

“Who took them?” Gramps questioned.

“I don’t know yet” Don explained sitting on the couch “I mean, we got this one suspect who’s a bookie, and we think there’s some connection, but we got these files off his computer, and they’re impossible to analyze”

“What are you looking for in here?” Charlie questioned, going to look over the file Don offered him as I sat on the couch next to my father. .

“Well, I mean, the people who financed the operation.” Don explained “this guy’s been running bets through a website called Statswire that dead-ends at a URL in China. And with all the money he’s pulling in and paying out, we can’t tell the difference between the backer and bettors.”

“Well these abbreviations may be names and dates” Uncle C suggested looking the file over “but the numbers in this column here 35-17-11” he muttered as Gramps went to look over his shoulder. “23-17-5, 24-12-3 ½? Yeah I’m assuming that they’re part of some sort of odds making, but they just appear to be at random and they can’t be.”

“You’re right. They’re not random” Alan voiced as I shifted my cake away from my thieving father.

“What are you talking about?” Don inquired.

“Where’s that paper?” Alan muttered standing up and going over to a stack of newspapers “this weekend’s football scores.” he stated grabbing the paper he was looking for and coming back over as we all huddled over the file to look. “Let me see. 35-17-11 here.” he pointed to the newspaper “the Packers beat the Vikings 35-17, and the spread was 11”

“Whoa,” Don murmured.

“Nice catch Gramps” I said with a slight smirk.

“Thank you. 23-17-5. That here, Niners in San Diego, five-point spread, right?” Alan found another “24 to 12 was the Jaguars over the Colts. Huh?”

“Let me see that” Don took the paper and looked it over.

“3 ½ was a ridiculous spread” Gramps commented “I took the Jaguars and made a hundred bucks”

“What, you have a bookie?” Don questioned his father in surprise.

“Busted,” I murmured.

“Should I have a lawyer present?” Alan replied.

“No, I’ll let you slide.” Don murmured looking back over the paper. As I chuckled lightly.

“Wait a minute. If this column is the point spread, I can use it to calculate the ratio of winners to losers” Charlie explained “and potentially trace the payouts and the money flow.”

“Yay teamwork” I murmured.

“Says the girl who sat there eating cake the entire time” Don pointed out. I just shrugged with a smirk.

_________________

3rd POV.

Don got out of his car with a sigh. He was relieved that she had at least thought to text him this time. As he made his way across the grass to his daughter she glanced up at him before her eyes became fixated on the ground.

He sat down next to her in front of the head stone. After a moment of silence he finally spoke “what’s wrong?”

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” Abby replied, still not looking up at him and she fiddled with her blinders in her hand.

“Because I know you well enough now to know when something’s bothering you” he replied softly. Abby shifted but didn’t speak. “You know if you don’t want to have a party or something for your birthday that’s fine. It’s okay if you don’t even want to celebrate it but I’d like to know why” he explained.

“It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate it” Abby objected. “It’s just-” she took a shaky breath “I suddenly have people to celebrate with and I’ve never had that before because-” she cut off.

“Because what?” Don encouraged.

She took another deep breath “last year we sat here and I told you how much I love and miss my mom now I’m sitting here and- and I’m just mad at her. I’m mad because she didn’t tell you about me. Didn’t let us meet sooner because I spent nearly sixteen years of my life not knowing you, or Grandpa, or Uncle C and because I want to have that stupid barbecue with you guys and I wish I could have had that sooner but-” Abby cut off again and tears rolled down her cheek. “I’m never going to see her again and all I am is mad at her”

Don wrapped a gentle arm around Abby pulling her closer. “Listen Abby, the last year of my life spent with you has been an incredible time. We’ve gotten to know each other and despite some preconceived notions I haven’t managed to screw up being a dad too bad. Right?” Abby scoffed at the last statement, sniffing back her tears. “That said I was a very different person years ago when I met your mother. And the truth is I don’t know if I could have been the father I would have wanted to be to you all those years ago. Heck I’m not even sure I’m the father I want for you right now.” he bit his lip pausing before he continued “not having you in my life all these years… it hurt and when I found out honestly I was mad too but- but I know your mother loved you Abbs and she only did what she did. She only kept this secret because she loved you and she thought it was the best for you.”

“I know,” Abby sighed.

“And now we do have each other and the rest of my crazy family,” he muttered, making her laugh a little. “It’s me and you kid and I’m not going anywhere”

“Thanks dad” she murmured sniffing back tears “but I’m still mad”

“I know,” Don murmured, pulling Abby into a hug “but I’m sure you’ve been mad at your mom before. She can take it and one day you’ll figure out how to forgive her, trust me.”

Chapter 16 ->

[eroticcannibal]

Sorry if it's a personal question, but do you view your NPD impacting or influences your parenting in any way? Again sorry, but my sister was talking to me about a story she wants to write, but she wants to create parental drama (aka abuse)... but she wants to use NPD as the reason the parent Favours One Child Over the Other to create Sibling Drama/Conflict and just... It doesn't jiv with me but she says she using personal anecdotes from Reddit and I'm just like... Find that being iffy.

My perspective is of someone who is a narc and who was parented in a way that, while well intentioned, fucked me over, so idk how much personal experiences factor into this but the way it tends to impact my parenting is generally pretty positive, and the negatives only really tend to be directed at myself and other parents. (and probably will be directed at my child’s peers when they are older. Hopefully not but there’s a chance I might flip at some teenagers)

Like, a lot of my narcissism is tied up in Being The Best At Being A Radically Good Person. And imo a lot of being a radically good person involves how u treat children (as they are the most marginalised group). Also always being told right from when Dorito was born that I’m a natural at this was major narc fuel and I am inclined to do anything I can to stoke that supply. There’s also the whole “If I’m the best then obviously my child is too and therefore they deserve the best.”

I am determined to be a better parent than my parent. I am determined to be a better parent than everyone I know. And while I wasn’t so Aware when I was younger, I have reached that point where I can accept that being good at thing requires hard work, so I don’t just wing it and assume I’m good at this. I attend every parenting course going to keep up with latest guidance and best practice. I spend most of my time if not actively parenting then planning stuff. I regularly discuss my parenting with Dorito in the sense of: Am I making you happy? Am I making you sad? Is there anything you are struggling with?

I will NOT be having more kids, so I can’t say for sure how I’d parent two children, and given the circumstances of Dorito’s conception I expect at least emotionally I would always favor them over another child, however since I am still dealing with the trauma of being noticeably treated differently to my siblings due to parents having favourites (its litterally a factor in me being a narc jskhfdjshf), I would NOT treat them differently. I can bury my feelings.

Tbh personal anecdotes from reddit, 99/100, are armchair diagnosis. I have found maybe 3 where they *claim* someone was actually diagnosed.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Did you start making chapter theories in ch. 179? I would have liked to see your take in the psychology of certain convicts, like Sekiya, Gansoku and Henmi

Actually...

I began a little earlier at around chap 162, but at the time I didn’t really make a rambling post for each chapter.

I’ve also a re-reading series, but I ended up interrupting it at chap 18 (even if I actually wrote it till chap 38) for various reasons.

If you feel like listening to me ramble about those three I don’t mind doing it, just keep in mind it’s not a real psychological analysis. Those take a professional and much more information about their lives than I have at hand and I’m not even sure if Noda wanted to make them THAT psychologically accurate.

So take this more as a character analysis than a real psychological take of them.

For a moment let me group together Henmi and Sekiya as, like most of the characters of Golden Kamuy, they’ve in common they lived a traumatic event that influenced the rest of their lives and became their Freudian excuse.

Mind you, the trope is called Freudian excuse but in Noda’s case often it’s more a Freudian explanation, a ‘why they ended up like this’ a showing that they weren’t just random bad men born evil but once they were just ordinary guys like you and me and then something happened and they reacted to it in the entirely wrong way, turning them in complete monsters. A For Want of a Nail effect, if you want, something happens, and this event has a ripple effect, resulting in massive change in the character changes radically.

So, with this in mind, let’s go dig into those two.

Henmi is the first convict we meet whose life was totally screwed over by a traumatic event.

The previous convicts are:

- Gotou who, according to Shiraishi, murdered his wife and child while drunk, even though I would be more prone, analyzing his interaction with Sugimoto during which he’s friendly and harmless when drunk and attempts to murder him when he’s sober, to assume he was actually not drunk when he did it and merely said he was hoping this would result in a less

- Prisoner n 1, of whom we know nothing about except that he viewed himself as a small fish

- Tsuyama, whom we know is a murderer but not why

- Shiraishi, who’s not a murderer

- Hijikata, who’s actually a political prisoner

- Ushiyama, who killed out of self defence

- Nihei, who just couldn’t let go whose who attacked him but had to take revenge on them.

And then comes in Henmi, who actually has a backstory that explains why he became a monster.

Henmi himself doesn’t consider it an excuse, just his starting point, albeit it’s possible that, had Shiraishi never asked, he would have never wondered why he took that turn.

Henmi saw a board killing his little brother, apparently eating it alive.

We’ve no info on why this incident took place, but this seems to point out Henmi didn’t deliberately cause this.

So really, this is what turned him from an ordinary kid to a monster, so it’s not something he had caused.

Henmi watched this from his hiding spot, meaning he either arrived on the scene, was scared and hid or that both siblings were there but only Henmi managed to reach a hiding place and from there he couldn’t move to help his brother.

Henmi describes his brother’s death vividly. It was horrific, his brother was helpless and it wasn’t even the boar’s fault as the animal couldn’t understand him. Henmi thinks his brother was in a lot of pain and fear, in despair and hopelessness.

But then he says something that clearly leaves into us an impression. He says that each time he thinks at his brother ‘he really, really want to kill somebody, anybody’, and he seems to have an erection as he says so.

Due to this it’s easy to think that Noda is trying to depict him as someone committing ‘lust murders’, murders done by someone who searches for erotic satisfaction by killing someone… by is it really so simple?

Not quite because it’s not murdering someone what turns Henmi on, it’s the idea that this someone will murder him.

Henmi is not identifying with the boar, he’s identifying with his brother.

I’ll go and assume the idea here is that part of the problem here is that when Henmi saw his brother being killed, his body reacted in an inappropriate manner.

When one is scared the body produces dopamine. Some individuals may get more of a kick from this dopamine response than others do as, and according to some studies dopamine can trigger penile erection (though they’re still debating over this but whatever, Golden Kamuy isn’t meant to be a medicine text).

Anyway, in between the trauma to seeing his brother being killed in such a horrific way and his body’s reaction somehow Henmi came up with the idea he wanted to die like him.

We see Henmi doesn’t get an erection when he kills the Yakuza,

just when he thinks to how Sugimoto could kill him. We see Henmi thinks Shiraishi is masturbating to the thought of getting killed, not to the thought of killing someone.

Possibly part of all this is also due to guilt, he just stood there, watching as light died in his brother’s eyes (it’s interesting how he carve the kanji for ‘eye’ in his victims, as if to mark them with his sin) and let his younger brother be killed and even got off by it and that also explains his wish to die. In a way in this he’s similar to Sekiya, who thought he should have been the one who died, and not his little girl.

And it’s interesting Henmi has to think at it, before explaining this is what turned him into what he is, because this hints he tried to forget what he saw, that he buried it inside himself, for him it wasn’t ‘oh, okay, so this is how my brother die so let’s start killing people’, Henmi didn’t try to understand his impulses, he just followed them.

But, long story short, Henmi’s wish to die a beautiful death, like his little brother, lead him to become completely twisted.

Maybe the boar attacked them because they attempted to attack him, that’s why Henmi began to attack people, attempting to murder them in hope they would instead murder him, attempting to recreate what happened with his brother. Maybe if this experience had never happened to him Henmi would have just been an ordinary well-mannered and very sociable guy who helps friends (when Shiraishi sees Sister Miyazawa and follows her Henmi stops the guard from chasing him).

This however wasn’t meant to be.

Henmi flips, develops an obsession on his own death, whom he wants to be terrible like the one of his brother and maybe the second tragedy of his own story is by misfortune he had to kill over a hundred people before he met someone who could give him ‘his beautiful death’, hundred kills he likely felt insensible about because, when you start thinking being killed is the most exciting experience ever, you probably don’t even connect you’re doing something bad, which is also why we can label Henmi as a monster, because he’s absolutely remorseless toward his victims.

Henmi is dangerous, a serial killer that can only be stopped by death… but it would be interesting if we could peek to an universe in which he was never exposed to the trauma of losing his brother and see if in it he could have become an ordinary guy instead.

Oh well, we’ll never know.

Sekiya now as he’s similar to Henmi, yet very different.

While it’s likely that Henmi’s traumatic event or turning point took place when he was young, Sekiya’s traumatic event takes place when he’s a man and, in the volume version, Noda pays special care to it.

We know Sekiya used to be a livestock veterinarian who went around to different ranches in Hokkaido and looked after their horses and things like that.

The traumatic event that ruined his life is well known to the fandom and easy to understand and sympathize with.

Sekiya himself tells it to Kadokura, in a way that mimics a confession.

It was a Sunday morning and he was walking home with his daughter, who was still a toddler, she being right at his side, plodding around.

The images shows us a Christian church and this, combined with how it was a Sunday morning, tell us that Sekiya was probably walking home from Sunday mass.

We see him smile as he watch his daughter, light in his eyes.

Sekiya probably used to be a normal person, likely nothing over the top but what you would easily label good, and probably he felt that since he also has done his religious duty and gone to mass, God should smile down on him and protect him and his family.

(It’s possible he’s indulging a little in the capital vice of pride here… and considering his future actions in the future too)

We never hear Sekiya talking about a wife so it’s possible she died and he had to overcome that loss. Assuming a wife existed and died, he clearly overcome losing her and, evidently, being with his daughter, just watching her walk next to him, gives him joy.

Then something exploded behind him and he lost consciousness. When he wakes up he can only see that his daughter head and feet had been blown apart…. Which should be a pretty horrific thing to watch, especially for a father, but it takes him a while to realize this was due to a lighting having struck her, his eyes losing their light as he realizes this.

Abruptly Sekiya had lost his daughter, in a way that he didn’t even understand at first, a horrible way. She was a beloved child, a reason of joy for him and it could be she was the last member of his family alive.

Now there’s a really common characteristic in humans from various cultures.

Many of them tend to think that the lightning is ‘the weapon of God/a God’.

Wikipedia even have a full page in which they list the various thunder gods from all around the world and the bible too implied God can toss thunders and lightnings.

So Sekiya, man of faith, who believed to be a good person likely blessed or at least protected by his God, is facing such a terrible tragedy just after he left the church in which he probably received the Eucharist, a tragedy that took place by a mean that’s considered by many ‘a weapon of God’, a tragedy that should cause him agonizing pain because losing a child so young should be terrible.

Now… sadly the best thing Sekiya could have done at this point was just to mourn his own child and learn to cope with the pain of her loss, possibly without losing his faith but using it as a crutch in his darkest hour.

Sekiya though, doesn’t find in himself the strength to chose the best option for himself.

Sekiya can’t accept his own disgrace and the way it happened, mourn and move on.

We see Sekiya back in the church, wondering why this happened to his daughter and not him.

Actually he asks himself (or God) why his daughter was chosen and not him.

どうして娘が選ばれたのか… どうして俺じゃなかったのか

‘Dōshite musume ga eraba reta no ka... Dōshite ore janakatta no ka’

His next step, he explains to Kadokura, is to ask himself the following thing:

“Is ‘luck’ the will of God… or does the fact that a man like me was left alive prove that there is no such thing as God?”

「運」とは神の意志なのか…神のような人間を生き残らせるということは神など存在しないのではないか？

‘“Un” to wa kami no ishina no ka… kami no yōna ningen o ikinokora seru to iu koto wa kami nado sonzai shinai node wanai ka?’

It’s this thought that likely pushed Sekiya to test people’s luck over and over, ending up on murdering quite a bunch of people.

Now…

I think part of Sekiya’s problem is that he was a man indulging in the capital vice of pride.

He sounds like he believed he believed he knew how things worked (God would punish the wicked and protect the ones who walk on the right path as hinted in chap 172) and viewed himself and especially his daughter as people who should be protected, blessed by God and just couldn’t accept to be proved wrong when his daughter died, demanded an explanation, deluded himself he could understand what no human had ever understood, God’s plans or that, if he can’t, this would mean God doesn’t exist.

Of course Sekiya’s view about who God would bless and who he would punish is extremely limited as it implies God should murder whoever would deviate by the right path and would protect from everything whoever would remain on it and it doesn’t take a genius to know IT DOESN’T WORK THIS WAY, bad things can happen to good people and terrible people instead might be blessed with good luck.

But part of the problem though is that Sekiya’s obsession with trying to understand why his own misfortune happened to him works as a copying mechanism that distract him from the agonizing pain of his loss.

What’s more it makes him feel as if he has the power to control things.

What Sekiya wanted to get in fact was exactly what he got, for God to protect someone righteous and punish him for not being righteous anymore.

He’s overjoyed when he’s proved right, Hijikata survives to an extremely risky bet and kills him.

Although he says he has great interest in observing how fortune play out in people he’s never delighted when they die. He’s just businesslike, this is done, let’s move to the next.

Instead he’s delighted when he’s proved right even if this means he’ll die… but well, life had probably lost part of his meaning to him, circling about a sick game that couldn’t give him any satisfaction.

Nowadays may countries would have given psychological help to both Sekiya and Henmi after they suffered their trauma, so that they might not have ended up turning into monsters like they instead did.

However, in Golden Kamuy’s time, this possibility didn’t exist and if you couldn’t find by yourself the strength to overcome in the right way your traumas and problems well… no one would be capable to help you.

Most of the cast of GK would benefit from psychological help, Henmi and Sekiya are merely among the people who reacted to trauma in the worst way.

Now… Gansoku… well, the guy is hard to pin.

As far as we know he didn’t have a ‘traumatic moment TM’ that turned him into who he is.

When he explains himself, Gansoku says he expresses himself through violence the same way one would express himself through art but acknowledges this made others hate him as they didn’t understand him, which lead him to get jailed.

Gansoku doesn’t view this as bad as prison was a place busting with violence in which he made friends who were happy if he punched the guards and where he would go on a rampage and could only be stopped by Ushiyama.

His explanation seems to pain the picture of a violent man who can’t control himself and beat people left and right.

However when we met Gansoku we discover he’s a guy who basically promoted the stenka fights by encouraging people to bet on them. He’s a man who doesn’t attack at random but in a fight, can play in a team, tries to understand Sugimoto and helps him with his problems, helps Tsukishima when he’s wounded and can’t walk, can travel with Svetlana and protect her and wouldn’t fight with Sofia because he believed she wouldn’t be up for it.

He just love fighting and make no difference if he’s the one beating others or he’s getting beaten up. As long as he’s fighting someone strong he’s happy.

In short he’s not an uncontrollable abuser but a guy who loves to fight and who goes all out when fighting, a guy who can control himself and even being nice.

I wonder if he ended up in jail for a reason similar to Ushiyama, because he overdo it in a fight or in an argument. He said he was hated so maybe it’s the other people who would start the fight but, due to his superior strength he would hurt them too bad when he would react and end up in jail.

It’s hard to say, he’s undoubtedly strange but, at the same time, as he seems someone who doesn’t attack at random, that’s why he remind me of Ushiyama. But well, we’ll see if he’ll get more development.

For now that’s all I can say.

Thank you for your ask!

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool).

Sorry this took me so long @joeyava! I'm bad at Tumblr.

1. my sense of humor

2. my eyes. They are a dark olive shade, and in a family of blue and brown eyes, I'm the only green eyed person.

3. That I chose my life partner well...maybe a strange thing to like about myself, but it's true. When my husband and I met, we both had radically different plans that would have taken us to opposite sides of the country, but we pretty quickly realized that wouldn't do. Despite having very different personalities and very different interests, we both decided we were 'all in' very soon after meeting, and we never looked back.

11 years in and I still think he's one of the most intelligent, attractive, and strange people I've ever met. Despite knowing him better than almost anyone, he still surprises me with the insights he has and he's one of the few people who is able to consistently change my mind in a debate, despite using far fewer words than I ever do. Anyway, that was long-winded, but he is one of my favorite things about myself.

4. My self-confidence. A friend once told me the word 'brazen' should go on my tombstone and it's one of the best compliments I've ever received.

5. That I'm mixed race. I've grappled with how to identify for as long as I can remember, having a white dad and a brown mom, especially with the way the two sides of my family differ socioeconomically. Being white 'passing' (I hate that term... this shit is hard to talk about) and being well-off, I often felt, especially when I was younger, like I couldn't identify as Mexican American, even as I watched second and third cousins who are technically less Mexican (again, a stupid and arbitrary way to think about it) proudly claim it because they look it.

I've even felt like my sister, who isn't white-passing could claim our heritage, but I couldn't.

Because my family immigrated to the U.S. the year my grandma was born, many of the stories and stereotypes about Mexican Americans and immigration just don't really fit my family. We have been here long enough that I have family that has immigrated back to Mexico and we visit that branch of the family every few years.

Still, I grew up in an extremely white area and never felt white enough for my dad's family of blue-eyed German/Dutch giants (seriously, everyone except my siblings is over six feet tall) or brown and poor enough for my mom's family (I definitely internalized racist ideas about poor Mexicans 😬).

I've finally mostly left those insecurities and generalizations behind. Living in a large city and meeting more multi-racial people in college and beyond helped, as well as discussing race and privilege extensively with my siblings has also helped.

I'm now at a point where I can feel proud of my heritage and comfortable with the fact that places where race and class and identity intersect are always going to complex and tricky to talk about and think about, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't. In fact, that's precisely why we should, even when we don't get it right the first time or second time or even ever come to a perfect explanation or understanding.

Looking at the trajectory of my family, from my Papa Uelo, who fled to the U.S. during conflict in Mexico and always intended to return (unfortunately he never did) to his daughter, my Tia Cashilda, who moved back to my family's home town in Michoacan as an adult, to my cousin who worked in the Obama administration, to my sister who is a freakin' professor, to my brother who is an international musician and lives in Mexico, I'm so proud of my family and how we exemplify the immigrant experience in all it's ups and downs.

My feelings on race and identity will continue to change and evolve, and I'm totally okay with that.

----

Phew, that turned into a book...and I wasn't expecting it to!

Thanks for the ask @joeyava

[razieltwelve]

Close Combat (Worm x Final Rose)

This is set in the same AU as Heroic Fury.

X     X     X

Fury stood on the water, Taylor on his back. 

“Are you scared?” the chocobo murmured.

The twelve-year-old heroine nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Good.” The bird smiled thinly. “Because only an idiot wouldn’t be, and I’d like to think I’m not stuck with an idiot.”

“What if… what if…” Taylor could barely force the words out. “What if we die here?”

“Then we die.” Fury drew himself up to his full height as their foe sent a handful of capes flying with blasts of water. “But would you really be able to live with yourself if you ran away, knowing what is behind you?”

Behind them was one of Brockton Bay’s shelters, the same shelter that housed both of Taylor’s parents, her younger siblings, and countless other innocents. 

“No.” This time Taylor’s voice did not shake. Instead, there was only determination. Fury’s heart swelled. She was learning. “If I ran I’d never be able to live with myself.” She swallowed thickly. “You’re the one with all the experience. How are we going to do this?”

Fury watched the Endbringer draw near. He’d studied all of them, just as Taylor had. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could kill one on his own. Perhaps in time, if Taylor and Colin were somehow able to piece together the pieces of the technology he remembered. A self-propogating molecular decomposition bomb wouldn’t care how dense the Endbringers were. In fact, their density would only make such a weapon more powerful. 

Unfortunately, he’d only ever had passing acquaintance with Remnant’s more advanced technology. It was a pity that Professor Radical hadn’t made the trip to this world too. The hamster might have been little, but he’d successfully memorised the plans for countless weapons after reviewing them on the lab’s networks and Fraise’s scrolls.

But even if he couldn’t kill Leviathan, he was certain he could at least slow him down long enough for help to arrive. The strongest heroes weren’t dead yet, and it was only a matter of time before they rejoined the fray. He just had to hold out long enough for them to get here.

“We attack hard and fast,” Fury said. “He can control water on an absolutely massive scale, so keeping our distance would be stupid. He’d just drown us. We have to stay up close, turn this into a melee battle.”

“You want to fight an Endbringer in melee combat?” Taylor squeaked.

The chocobo chuckled. “Have you forgotten how fast I am and how hard I can hit? I’m one of the greatest chocobos that has ever lived. He won’t lay one finger on me.” His Aura began to rise in anticipation of the coming battle. “Do you have your rifle?”

Taylor shouldered her rifle, glad for the saddle that would keep her on Fury’s back even if she had to fire her weapon. “Yeah.” She switched the weapon’s output from stun to maximum. “I’ve got maybe… ten shots at maximum power.”

“Ten should be enough. You’ll know when to strike.” Fury shifted, the water beneath him shaking as the Endbringer approached. “Centre yourself, Taylor. This battle… Aura resonance is the only way we’ll get through it alive. We must be perfectly in sync, our every thought and emotion shared, every plan, every course of action known by us both.”

Taylor closed her eyes and delved deep into her Aura. Ever since he’d first appeared, Fury had been teaching her about her Aura and how to use it. She’d yet to awaken her Semblance, but he’d told her she was close. More importantly, she’d learned how to match her Aura to his. When that happened, it was almost like they were one person. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. It allowed them to fight together perfectly. It hadn’t be easy. In fact, she’d only reached this level in the past month or two, but the difference it made was incredible.

“I’m ready.”

“Good.” Fury shifted into a lower stance, one that would let him accelerate as quickly as possible. “Here he comes.”

At the end of the street, Leviathan stopped. The creature’s eyes gleamed in the twilight cast by the storm clouds overhead. Fury’s claws tensed and then relaxed, and his Aura settled over him and Taylor like a shroud. A dim glow surrounded him, but it grew brighter with each moment, a mantle of black and red light that seemed to bleed off his feathers.

And then the water came.

It rushed down the street, a tide of liquid that threatened to simply sweep them away. Fury drew his head back, and his Aura pulsed sharply, a knife honed to razor keenness.

“KWEEEEEHH!”

The battle cry echoed down the street, and enhanced by Aura it became a shockwave of displaced air that shattered the wave of incoming water. As the water fell, Fury exploded into motion. He crossed the one hundred yards between him and Leviathan in a little less than a fifth of a second.

Leviathan did not dodge.

Fury weighed well over one thousand pounds, and he hit the Endbringer at a little over a thousand miles an hour. The shockwave of the impact sent water flying in every direction, and the Endbringer tumbled back, smashing through one building and then taking the corner off another before it found its feet again, surging forward to retake the initiative.

On Fury’s back, Taylor could scarcely believe what had happened. She’d known instinctively that Fury had always held back when fighting. She was a hero, so it wasn’t like he could go around killing every criminal they ran into. But an Endbringer wasn’t an opponent anyone could hold back against.

As Leviathan closed in, Taylor added her Aura to Fury’s. She knew better than anyone that the strike Fury had just thrown was not one he could use continuously. It was a technique that combined virtually perfect Aura control and a massive Aura capacity with the innate skills chocobos learned throughout their life. It was, in many ways, the pinnacle of chocobo attacks, one that could pierce through the hull of a warship like tinfoil or lance through a building. Leviathan had taken it and gotten right back up.

In the blink of an eye, Fury and Leviathan were little more than a hair’s breadth from each other. With speed that nothing that big should have, Leviathan’s tail whipped around. Fury dodged under the blow, and he used a blast of Aura to dispel the water echo that followed as he thrust his beak toward the Endbringer’s right knee. The strike didn’t have the same raw power as his first attack, but it focused its impact across a far smaller area. For a split-second Leviathan’s balance waved, and Fury darted forward, raking his claws against the giant’s side before he wheeled away, the water beneath him churning as the Endbringer lashed out with one arm.

As Leviathan rounded on them, Taylor took a moment to aim before unloading her first shot into the beast. Her weapon was a heavily modified version of a weapon that Fury had helped her and Colin put together: a plasma cannon. At maximum power, she could slag a tank in a single shot. Leviathan simply charged through the blast, and Taylor fired again, aiming for the wall of water the Endbringer threw at them.

The water evaporated instantly, and Fury sprang forward again, using another chunk of his Aura to accelerate far beyond his normal speed. But Leviathan was ready this time. At the last second, the Endbringer dodged, its whole body twisting impossibly to avoid the strike. 

“I’ve faced faster opponents before,” Fury hissed, the energy he’d used in his attack suddenly shifting to his claws. Aura flared to life, the air splitting as he created long, jagged trails of pure Aura in his wake. “I’ve fought things that could kill you in an instant, monster. Dodging won’t save you.”

The trails of Aura struck Leviathan in the chest, and for the first time, Taylor saw the creature’s surface take real, noticeable damage. Fury had told her once that enough Aura could basically tell physics to go cry in a corner, and she was seeing now how right he was. But the amount of Aura he’d used… this wasn’t an attack he could use more than a handful of times before even his massive reserves were exhausted.

As the Endbringer staggered, Taylor fired her plasma cannon twice more, aiming at the creature’s legs to keep it on the back foot as Fury circled around. The water beneath his feet burst upward, but he was ready, zigzagging and weaving his way across the surface as he anticipated Leviathan’s hydrokinesis.

“Get ready,” Fury warned. “This is where it gets ugly.”

And then Leviathan was right beside them once again. What followed was a series of strikes so fast that even with Aura enhancing her senses, Taylor could scarcely follow what happened. But somehow, despite the creature’s incredible speed, Fury managed to avoid being hit. He struck when he could, his blows doing seemingly little damage, but he was keeping Leviathan occupied, keeping the monster away from the shelter.

Suddenly, a caped figure descended, striking Leviathan like a hammer out of the sky. Alexandria. The blow sent Leviathan sprawling, but the beast reacted by throwing a wave at the heroine. Alexandria shot through it only to run right into a punch from the Endbringer that sent her tumbling into the steadily deepening waters. Leviathan dove after her, and Taylor realised with sickening clarity that Alexandria, as invincible as she seemed, might actually be able to drown. Certainly, the woman was thrashing in growing panic as the Endbringer wrapped one hand around her body and held her beneath the water.

Horror filled Taylor. She was going to watch one of her idols drown, a woman who had fought for years to make the world a better place. She couldn’t watch this. She had to do something. But what could she do? Fury could swim, but he wasn’t nearly as dangerous underwater as he was on top of it, and her plasma cannon couldn’t do enough damage to drive Leviathan off.

She… it was just like with her parents. Even now, all these years later, she still couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t help anyone -

X     X     X

Fury had seen many Semblances awaken over the years. Some had been glorious, powers heralded by fire and thunder. Others had been subtle, a minute shift in the wielder’s posture, a secretive smile.

Taylor’s was definitely one of the former.

He felt the shockwave of her Aura as it exploded outward, a field of invigorating energy spreading in its wake. His eyes widened. Wait. He knew this Semblance. Sigrid - one of Taren’s nieces - had married someone with something almost exactly the same.

For the Flock, it had been called. The shepherdess who’d possessed it had been able to boost the strength of the sheep in her flock to absurd levels. Taylor’s Semblance… Fury couldn’t be sure yet, but he knew instinctively that it was having a similar effect.

Beneath the water, Alexandria forced Leviathan’s hand open. The heroine surged out of the water and looked around, gaze settling on Taylor, before she turned her attention back to the Endbringer. With an almost savage grin on her lips, she descended, hitting the creature so hard the shockwave threatened to knock Fury off his feet.

For his part, the chocobo felt stronger and faster than he ever had since coming to this world. He took one step forward and then another and another as Eidolon appeared, beams of coruscating brightness lancing down on Leviathan before Fury charged, driving the creature back. More capes were arriving, and the onslaught of the blasters was a brilliant display that surpassed the one they’d put on at the start of the battle.

“Forward!” Taylor shouted, her voice echoing over the din of the battle and the thunder of the driving rain. “Drive him back into the sea!”

X     X     X

Alexandria sat down and tugged off her helmet. She was drenched, and she glanced at Eidolon expectantly. The man chuckled and gestured with one hand. Her clothes were dry in an instant, and she turned to the other person in the meeting room.

“Do we know how powerful the effect was?” Eidolon asked bluntly. “Because it felt pretty damn powerful to me.”

“We’ve had our thinkers questioning everyone,” Alexandria replied. “We’ve identified three zones. Those closest to Battlecry experienced a roughly 30% increase in power with the other zones showing a 20% and 10% increase, respectively.” She shook her head in disbelief. Taylor Hebert had chosen her cape name on account of the loud ‘kweh’ sound her projection always made in battle. It had proven to be incredibly apt. “We’ve also got reports of healing and regeneration from those within her area of effect, not to mention what you discovered, Eidolon.”

“Oh?” Legend turned to the other man. “What happened?”

“My powers,” Eidolon said simply. “They recharge when I’m near her.”

“…” Legend sat up. “What?”

“I can feel my powers recharging when I’m within Battlecry’s area of effect.” Eidolon flexed one hand. “It’s not a lot, but it’s definitely there.”

“That’s…” Legend ran one hand through his hair. Like all of them he was exhausted. “That’s great news. If we can get your powers back up to full strength or even just stronger at all…”

Eidolon grinned. “I know. We always speculated that there was a power that might be able to help mine, but to finally find it…”

“We’re going to have to classify most of this,” Alexandria said. “Ever since Battlecry triggered, she’s been slowly adding powers. Her projection alone is dangerous enough. For crying out loud, it fought Leviathan hand-to-hand for the better part of five minutes and actually survived it. How many capes could do the same? But Battlecry has been working on this ‘Aura’ that she claims her projection is teaching her about. It’s made her faster, stronger, and a host of other things, and now she says it’s given her this ability too.”

“We’re going to have to add a trump rating,” Legend said. “The only question is how high we want to go.”

“Area of effect power enhancement to go with healing and regeneration in that same area?” Alexandria leaned back in her chair. “And the fact that she thinks it will only get stronger as she masters its use? We are not going to put this on paper. We are going to come up with a nice, convenient lie, so anyone who looks doesn’t realise just how valuable she is. We cannot lose her.”

Eidolon’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll get in touch with her personally. Even setting aside the help she can give me with my powers, can you imagine what she could do in future Endbringer battles and…” He didn’t have to say it. They were all thinking it. 

“Exactly. She is now a top-priority asset. Heck, think of what we could do if we threw her in a room with a bunch of thinkers and tinkers and let them work on things.” Alexandria was already thinking of ways to organise a meeting with Contessa. If Battlecry’s power could grow strong enough to overcome the block Contessa had with Entities…

“So are we leaving her in Brockton Bay?” Legend asked. 

“I would be happy to have her in my city,” Eidolon said. 

“Of course you would,” Legend said, chuckling. “But would it be best for her? She’s happy in Brockton, and they’ll need every cape they can get while they rebuild.”

“The damage was far less than we expected,” Alexandria pointed out. “Because we were able to drive Leviathan back more easily than we’d anticipated.” She pursed her lips. “But you might be right. She is happy here, and she has repeatedly mentioned that personal happiness and fulfilment are linked to this ‘Aura’ she claims to use. If that is the case, then her power would likely grow stronger and more rapidly here than anywhere else.”

“Even so,” Eidolon pressed. “We could assign some extra assets here to the PRT and the Protectorate. We could say its to help with reconstruction efforts.”

“Indeed.” Alexandria nodded. “And you need to tell her about the power interaction. It’s clear that she idolises us. If you tell her, she’ll be happy to help you regularly, and it would give you an excuse to visit Brockton Bay regularly too. Again, we could claim its for reconstruction purposes, but it would also minimise the chances of anyone getting any… ideas.”

Eidolon smirked. He knew very well that trouble died down when he was on the scene. There were very, very few people who could challenge him, and there would be even less if he could top up his powers regularly. “I’ll speak to her once she’s had a chance to recover.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

So I thought I’d keep this little idea going. There is going to be more, not necessarily in chronological order, and you can already see the changes that have happened due to Fury’s presence. As for Taylor’s Semblance, I thought it would be a nice riff on Queen Administrator, and she will eventually develop it to the point that she can use it to start communicating orders on the battlefield and the like.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[shimmiyaa]

💭

      I'm not normally the kind of person to analyze years as they end and begin. To note the good things, the bad things, the things I'm grateful for, the things I regret. To make resolutions. Usually, it's all just time passing to me. But this year, being so radical in its changes, has really got me thinking.

        2018 was hard, but it was also really good. I made some big decisions and big changes. I paved the way to the next chapter in my life, much-needed after feeling stuck for far too long.

Alas, when paving the road to a new life, one finds themself needing to let go of many things, and people, and leave them behind. It's never easy, but it's necessary, and we can only hope the result will be worth what we give up.

The gains:

I graduated from makeup school and got certified.

I went the Paris for the third time.

I visited my long-distance friend in Michigan.

That boy I've been crushing on finally made love to me.

I reconnected with an old friend that I had been missing.

I finally moved out of that apartment and cut off many toxic relations.

I became much closer to a good gurlfriend.

I got a fantastic new job.

The losses:

In breaking up with my ex, I lost my best friend in the universe.

In losing my best friend, I lost two of my cat babies.

In losing my cat babies, the one I kept lost his siblings.

        As I'm writing these lists, I'm finding one more fundamental thing to be thankful for.

The first list is much longer and was very easy to write. I hardly had to think and all these wonderful experiences came to mind immediately.

The second list is shorter, and even as I rack my brain trying to think of losses to add to it, I fall short.

        Breaking up my little family was my decision, and not one I regret, but it was still one of the hardest things I have ever had to put myself through. It was not a choice I made lightly, but I know it was the right thing for me to do.

        Now maybe that whole event is the only real experience I can draw from for my second list because it was so huge and traumatic. But I'd also like to think that I'm having trouble writing that list because the way I perceive such things has really evolved for the better. I can now easily draw growth from anything that happens, be it good or bad. I've been finding it easier to let go of anger, and to accept everything as it comes. To not need to place blame on anyone for the bad things that happen, but instead to understand that everyone's perception of reality is different. To think about how any experience can help me grow and do better next time. And finally to appreciate how far I've come and notice how much better I'm doing than I was.

        More often than not, it's the good things that we can plan ahead for and then look forward to. And the bad things come and punch us in the gut when we least expect it. I think it's important to remember that everything happens for a reason, though we may not know it, and though it may suck and feel worthless to us. Everything passes. What makes you feel bitter now won't matter next year. Keep in mind that it will only help you grow and evolve into a better you, if you let it, and if you nourish that way of thought.

Accept, move on, do better.

Accept, move on, do better.

Accept, move on, do better.

Namaste

s h i m m i Y a a ✖

[teacherintransition]

One Weekend, Vincent Van Gogh and Matthew McConaughey… Opposite Sides of The Same Coin

*photo courtesy of NPR.org

“Alright, alright, alright…” McConaughey

I’ve written in several articles regarding retirement, change of life, transitioning etc. etc. and I’ve gone to pains to point out that everyone’s path will look different. Short of being a billionaire where the sky’s the limit; pursuing your individual path … well, it ain’t easy. This weekend I was offered two radically different points of view of attaining self fulfillment… and of being unable to do so.

Kim and I had a fantastic weekend that included a Scottish Highlands Festival, visiting the grandson and hijo primero, spending the night with hijo segundo at his new home and a surprise gift from my wife with tickets to the Van Gogh Immersion Experience. We drove the “hell” out of our Chrysler sedan going from Sherman, Tx to Prosper to Madisonville to Houston and to Conroe. No question my wife knew that the driving would be a small price to pay for me to spend such deeply powerful, personal moments with Vincent. Yes, I call him Vincent… how else would soulmates address each other but with familiarity? Vincent is my soulmate … which is a term that I believe isn’t restricted to romance and relationships… depending on which life your living at that moment. Yes, you heard me right, I am indeed one of those weirdos. Some Buddhist, some Christian, some indigenous, some Celtic…New Age, transcendentalist, blah, blah, blah. Universalists would be the best term but I HATE labels. I believe this immortal existence is made up of many lives, in many times, on many planes of existence all designed to enlighten our consciousness with each living. Soulmates are people of the same spirit, loves, struggles and states of mind who are linked. Sometimes it could be husband and wife; sometimes circumstances keep you from meeting; sometimes you’re separated by time; sometimes it’s a best friend or sibling; but in the framework of an eternal quest to get things right… temporary separation from your soulmate is just a blip in our existence. Vincent is my soulmate or it’s Kurt Cobain or Frida Kahlo… or hell, maybe they are all the same people. Admit it, by now you think I’m making this crap up as I go…just setting up the blocks the best way I can as the saying goes, “wisdom is where you find it.”

Though I’ve digressed in major fashion, the Van Gogh exhibit was priceless in my reckoning and I so closely identify with the quest that Vincent cruelly endured. I am always looking for “truth” … I read Sartre, Buddha, Jesus, Plato, Thoreau, Celtic Druids, Stoics, Epicureans, any bit of enlightenment to shed light on my current path. Wisdom is indeed where you find it. While on our excursion, we listened to Matthew McConaughey’s book on life and living titled, Green Lights. McConaughey always plays characters who seem to see the world differently or have a special insight but never see life as a definitive path. From Wooderson to Brigance to Woodruff to Hanna to Coop, McConaughey’s characters are cool dudes who have it together, but are placed in circumstances that are far from together. They stick to a code but are very matter of fact casual about it. I enjoy his films, I’ve heard him speak, he appears in every way to have an open mind and like many of his characters, he’s seeking fulfillment and or validation. It was a good book, relatively speaking (VERY RELATIVELY) his growing up wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows; he faced many crossroads, don’t we all; he didn’t compromise…much on the seeking of his passion and this was a message not lost on me during this transition. His book had something to teach me after all, “wisdom is where you find it.”

Listening to McConaughey on the way to see Van Gogh? Well, alright, alright, alright. Surely these two “cool dudes” shared similar insights. Both were and artists, both seek clarity of purpose, both wished to experience the vibrancy of living….hey guys… me too! Their paths both reflect in moments when they feel most alive. When were the times I felt most alive? When did my nerve endings feel on fire and my senses were acutely aware of everything going on around me? “Good times, bad times…you know I’ve had my share,” and either could be a moment of intellectual, emotional, passionate clarity. Suffering the most heartbreaking betrayal of my life, I felt alive, but I don’t recommend it. Standing alone on a cliff side I had climbed in the Texas Hill Country and gazing outward, I felt alive. When my precious granddaughter Peyton looked at me with all the innocent wonder of a small child and said, “I wuv you Pop Pop,” I felt alive. Walking the streets of Arles, France where Van Gogh walked, I felt alive. Experiencing the complete immersion into the art and mind and heart of Vincent this weekend broke me down to sobbing because it was so overwhelming, I felt alive. When I separate myself voluntarily or not from commonality… that’s when I feel alive. The road less traveled…the break from playing life by the numbers…the challenges faced…the undiscovered country in your soul is where you will find yourself. Like Vincent once told his brother Theo, “humanity is a paved road … it’s comfortable to walk on but no flowers grow there.”

Ideally, self fulfillment should be reached at some level, but remember my “weirdo” belief system; sometimes, not in this life. I’m fifty five and served humanity well as a teacher for thirty years. I wasted time not really creating art as I should’ve been; playing guitar as I should’ve been; writing as I should’ve been; I ran theatre camps and directed Destination Imagination performances for twelve years, but have yet to find my balls and get on stage. ( I did an improv comedic performance on the stage of the Apollo in Harlem in front of ninety people…I felt very alive, but it doesn’t count) At the very least I should have found my voice…know what I want to say to the world. Vincent did, but he never realized it. McConaughey did and is cool with it. Vincent never experienced clarity of mind; McConaughey has and shares it confidently in a book. There are a thousand ideas floating, sometimes screaming, in my head about what does my art express; what does my writing say? I have a catalog of song ideas that have never been heard on my guitar. There are countless vistas of this world that I want desperately to see, that I haven’t seen yet. This is the challenge of my life change, my transition… the similarity between Vincent and McConaughey, the goal of every life to strive to find your voice. As Shakespeare once wrote, “that life, the powerful play goes on and that I might contribute a verse.” I don’t know my voice or my verse… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know anyone who thinks like I do…some…they leave ….others run away, but as it should be expected; this is a solitary quest. We creative humans are prone to this struggle and failing to find one’s voice can be a struggle of life spanning proportions. None of us get out of this alive, but the artist often burns out spectacularly without self realization: Van Gogh, Hemingway, Cobain, Bourdain, Cornell, Beehan.

Two deep souls I came across this weekend contributed their voice. One worked and struggled and suffered for his voice and it was only ever heard after this life ended. Another, was far better equipped to deal with and avoid the spiritual struggle that ensnares less fortunate in their quest. One took their life, one became a star… both asked why? I, on a much less grand stage, know that this life is destined to end and

I have gifts, tools that I don’t know how to use. I’ve said this, today…but it’s not enough. I like sitting in a swing, drinking a cold beer, lazily dozing off under the warm sun; I will not let that be all there is. This is the part of all our transitions that should look the same. I want to be challenged, I want to say and express something unique, I want to feel alive if only for moment…even a star glows when burning out.

[occupyvenus]

Great post - "about why Jonsa of all ships is so bitterly thought about" and I think your really nailed a lot of the key factors, especially how the San/San people like Sansa, are more likely book readers and can accept the Jonsa ship maturely. There is definitely a pathological hatred of Sansa that drives the fanaticism against her being with Jon. You really captured a lot of the thinking (if you can call it thinking!) on a tv forum I've been following for about a year. People literally (1/2)

will dream up any reason to keep Sansa away from Jon. There is essentially a subculture that allows the Jon/Ary@ ship and the Jon/D@ny ship to coexist. Even kind of support each other. Dany might die and then Arya and Jon will raise the Targcest baby together. Pretty crazy stuff. Anyway thanks for writing so clearly on this topic. (2/2)

First of all … that was supposed to say FOUGHT ABOUT!!! NOT THOUGHT ABOUT!!!  WHY JONSA OF ALL SHIPS IS SO BITTERLY FOUGHT ABOUT!!!

I lower my head in shame, while contemplating my bad habit of never proof-reading the stuff I write. But as the previous anon so correctly pointed out my spelling isn’t exactly top-notch. Most of the time it’s honestly  p r e t t y  bad. If words sound somewhat similar, by stupid brain assumes they’re interchangeable. Seven hells.

Though I think this - Sansa being regarded as a side character or at best, the least important main character - also explains why Jonsa isn’t seen as a possibility by the general fandom, not just the radical antis. People look at the infamous original outline, believing that Sansa never gained any real importance as a character since then, like she was just allowed to tag along with the “real” key five (Arya, Bran, Dany, Jon and Tyrion). She was supposed to marry Joffrey and die at some point and the crazy folks think she’ll not even survive but also get THE MALE LOVE-INTEREST?  I suppose, to people who don’t realize (or don’t want to admit) that Sansa was “upgraded” to key-status (GRRM always includes her when talking about the most important characters nowadays), any serious theory that claims she could be Jon’s grand love interest sounds as implausible as if it was … idk, Arianne or Brienne or whoever. Those two are great and all, but Jon Snow is on an entirely different level when it comes to significance to the narrative. Why would he of all people end up with some puny side-character? Shouldn’t that “honor” go to one of the real heroines? Makes sense. It’s not just the people who actively hate on Sansa, but also those who simply don’t care much about her character. 

I guess you call this hypothesis “Why Jonsa of all ships is so bitterly FOUGHT about and/or not taken seriously”. 

I’m honestly not an expert on what’s going on between the other camps (ie the general attitude between J0nry and J0nerys shippers), but according to my experience these two subgroups (together with the Sansa/P€tyr shippers) make up the majority of devoted jonsa-haters and put forth the most obsessed ones as well. If I remember correctly, a few years back before canon!jonsa gained so much momentum those two groups weren’t getting along nicely either. There was a lot of bickering about who’s more important (Ary@ is grrm’s fav!, D@ny has dragons and all, so shut your piehole!), mixed up with some shipping wank and as far as I can tell (as I said, I have a very limited perspective on this. I don’t really interact with either group), that has gotten a bit better since Sansa entered the stage as another key female character. What do people say? The enemy of my enemy … 

I don’t think that shipping is super important to asoiaf, I care about the story first and was pretty indifferent to it before I jumped on board the Jonsa ship, but I do think that we’ll get one “main” romance between two “main” characters. It would simply make sense to me, Grrm was never shy about including romantic love in his works, even if it was never the main focus. Now, this will more likely than not end in tragedy, but since asoiaf can be read as a coming of age story for at least 5 of the key six, and settling down with a spouse and a couple of kids is one common way to end such a story, maybe that will belong to the “sweet” part of the bittersweet ending. Idk, anything’s possible. (Btw, I don’t count Sansa and Tyrion’s marriage as a “romance” for obvious reasons.) If you don’t subscribe to the idiotic assumption that Jon and D@ny are the “real” real main characters and assume that all six are of equal importance … why is shipping either of them (other than the biological siblings, perhaps, that would be a bit weird even by grrm standards), less legit than the other? (Of course, if you do subscribe to this assumption, there probably only exists one “legitimate” pairing in your opinion. In which case, no argument about this could ever be solved until finding a common denominator to this question of principle, so why even bother…)

If one of the male characters can be seen as the “romantic lead” it would be Jon (grrm even sorta confirmed this in his “fake” -lol- medusa interview), simply because Bran is just a kid and Tyrion, well some people will accuse me of ableism, but I don’t get any “romantic lead” vibes from him. Not because he’s a dwarf, because he’s the only “grownup” of the key six. So everyone can keep any accusations to themselves. I also don’t think that Grrm will stride away from hetero-love, to be honest. HE COULD. But I don’t think he will. That leaves us with the three possibilities mentioned above: Jon and one of the leading ladies. I think it’s rather inevitable that that will happen. 

But when it comes to the ladies … things simply aren’t as clear. They’re all similar of age, neither of them is closely related to Jon (at least, not THAT closely related), they could all work. I obviously don’t like J0nerys, but I can totally understand why so many people believe in it. I would maybe even ship J0nrya a bit, if it wasn’t almost impossible to find shippers who don’t hate on Sansa/Jonsa. And I would never call either of those groups “delusional” because it basically comes down to personal preference and a couple of other factors, most notably how you judge the future projective of these three characters. 

I also hate the assumption that J0nerys is the only pairing with solid foreshadowing in the books. I read the books a few times, all j0nerys meta I could find, plenty of J0nrya ones and, well, I don’t have to talk about all the jonsa-metas I’ve consumed xD. Trying to remain as unbiased as possible, there’s an almost equal amount of foreshadowing for all of them. I simply came to the conclusion that Sansa is the most likely candidate because a) I’m pretty sure D@ny will go dark and there will be a targbowl of sorts. She could just as easily be a love interest, as she could be an adversary. b) The age-gap between Ary@ and Jon is a bit too big for my liking. Especially at their current canon age. Also I love them siblings so much. And c) Sansa’s upgrade and the drastic change in her narrative must have a reason. Martin liking the idea of tormented pseudo-incest, and the reveal of Jon’s parentage making such a relationship “proper” but deciding to emphasize the brotherly bond between Jon and Ary@ and “using” Sansa’s character as the love interest instead simply makes sense to me. 

But I only came to this conclusion because I consider Sansa to be of equal importance. It’s more or less a precondition of even consider Jonsa, even more so to ship it in a canon kind of way. 

Now, to put an end to this little rant and get back to the original topic, D@ny and Ary@ stans regularly accuse Sansa of “stealing their narrative” or at least “Sansa-stans want her to have it all”, so it’s no surprise that they a) don’t want her to be key player and b) subsequently don’t want her / can’t see her ending up with Jon. There are a few very great posts out there dealing with the issue why Sansa is hated so much, but I think it comes down to (to get off topic one more time, because it’s my speciality)

Misogyny. Feminine characters always attract a lot of unwarranted hate (female characters and general, but at least on tumblr … one can undeniably see a certain trend), more so the ones who don’t take off their clothes. There’s this really nice post going around that as a female character you either have to a) be a sex object or b) act like a man. I would link to it if only I could find it. I’m not going to add much to this, it has been talked about many times. 

You can’t live vicariously through her. Sansa’s narrative often is … very frustrating. Nobody “wants to be Sansa”. People want to be the rebellious, fighting girl who doesn’t take any shit, they want to be the mother of dragons who goes around the world freeing slaves, they want to be Jon kicking some White Walker ass, they want to be the future three-eyed-raven (though Bran is seriously underappreciated by the fandom), they want to be a smart ass know it all, like Tyrion. They don’t want to be the girl stuck in situations she has almost no means of escaping. The sad truth to this is though, most people, if they found themselves in the same situation, “would be Sansa”. Most people aren’t active heros who fight against the unjust system all the time, most people aren’t geniuses, or brave enough to put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of other all the time. I actually fell in love with Sansa’s character because of that. (Though I have to admit myself, I was rather indifferent to her character for partially those exact reasons myself). It’s refreshing and a honest take on human nature to have a heroine who mostly has to resort to endurance and passive resistance. Mostly, not always. I don’t subscribe to “Sansa is weak and useless” weekly. Don’t get me wrong. She’s awesome and badass in her right, it’s just a bit harder to notice and appreciate. In this aspect she’s probably the most “realistic” character of the key six and people don’t like to read the truth about themselves. They wanna read about what they want to and could be. 

People are projecting. HARD. I spent a lot of time wondering why Sansa gets so much shit for her “evil deeds and traits”, in a series where people kill other people, shove children out of windows, burn people alive, rape a slave prostitute, and so on and so forth. And you know what? It’s easier to “forgive” those things because they are so absolutely horrendous. All these things are so far removed from our everyday reality (for most people at least), that it severs our emotional connection to it. Don’t get me wrong, we can still judge their behaviour, we can still emphasize with the victims, but we have no personal experience to connect to. But Sansa’s “villainous characteristics” (especially those of s1/agot)? An ignorant, privileged white girl who is mean to her little sister for being different, is caught up in some naive classicism, does stupid shit because she has a crush on some asshole everyone else could sniff out a mile away and always has to be so fucking perfect all the time. NOW THAT IS A “BAD GUY” WE KNOW! That’s a “villain” we all encountered in real life. To put this in different terms: I’ve never been pushed out a window for witnessing a incestous relationship between two people of high social standing (nor has anyone close to me), but have I felt victimized by my sister being the pretty, perfect girl, while I was the loud, unruly, unattractive tomboy? Yeeeeeeeeeeees. Have I ever actually lived through the experience of my elder sister getting nicer gifts than me, because “I would just break them”? Yeeeeeeeeeeeesss again. I grew out of it after elementary school, of course (okay, to be completely honest here, I might have still struggled with it during puberty, but thank god that’s also behind me). This also works the other way around: I have never been in the situation of “having” to push a kid out of a window, because it witnessed my incestous relationship and I, my sister-lover and our three children would lose their heads if he told anyone. I’ve never had slave master nail 163 children to crosses to piss me off. Idk, man. I have no idea what I would do. I never had to deal with shit like this. Who am I to judge? But then people look at the “mean” things Sansa did and go I WOULD NEVER EVER EVER. (though they probably did at some point in their life). 

Since this is tumblr, I have to note something: I don’t think this applies to everyone who dislikes Jonsa. I don’t think that everyone who dislikes Jonsa also dislikes Sansa. I’m not even saying that everyone dislikes Sansa for the reasons listed above. Before you accuse me of any of this, make sure you didn’t fall victim to a logical fallacy. I had enough of those lately. Those are just a few of my personal observations and conclusions, that I think, apply to quite a few people. If your reasonings and opinions are completely different, great, I’m not arguing, just don’t give me any shit about it.

So to draw some final conclusion for this long ass post: Jonsa of all ships is so bitterly fought about and/or not taken seriously, because a) Sansa attracts a lot of hate for several reasons, b) Sansa is considered to be too unimportant to be the “romantic lead” kind of main character grand love interest.

Shipping Jonsa is not “delusional” if you a) consider all three lead ladies to be of equal significance and b) don’t dislike Sansa. (Though since this is Tumblr, I might point it out one more time: This does not mean that anyone this applies to also ships Jonsa. This does not mean that this doesn’t also apply to people who don’t ship Jonsa. This does not mean that only people who stan Sansa hard ship Jonsa - I myself actually started shipping it because I staned Jon so much and I need my baby to be happy. Some people who fulfill both a) and b) might still believe that Jonsa shipper are “delusional” simply because it’s the common narrative of a big portion of the fandom.)

… Now that I think about this, the entire question could have been answered with the last paragraph alone, but you know how we do, go big or go home.  

[hollywayblog]

People | Top Film Photos 2017

See: Places | Things

Film photography kept me going this year. It kept me curious and humble, and my hunger for a gorgeous shot led me to a lot of places I would never have seen otherwise.

I’m a writer first, but my words are something I have complete control over. As a perfectionist, this can drive me pretty mental at times; I could spend an eternity combing through a story or blog post changing this or that word and never feel done. While my perfectionist tendencies come out at the editing stage of film making (I don’t really edit my photos unless I have to alter exposure), there is an urgency about capturing a moment that will never come again, having limited film or space on your memory card. When you’re behind the lens, you are capturing something rather than manufacturing it. Even in a controlled shoot, you are still limited by time and tools. Writing can only be limited by your imagination, and while that’s freeing in some ways, it can be terrifying in others.

These visual mediums are creative outlets that allow me to follow my instincts without so much pressure to be perfect. I know I can’t control the weather or the set of someone’s teeth or whether they blink just as I’m pressing the shutter. It doesn’t mean I don’t strive to be better, and I would love to do some planned shoots next year, but I guess because I don’t define myself as a photographer or cinematographer it takes a lot of the pressure off to be revolutionary. I just do what feels right.

But enough about that.

I was going to choose ten photos overall, but that proved to be literally impossible. Instead I’ve chosen thirty overall, divided into three categories. The first is People.

One of my favourite things about taking up this hobby is the beautiful pictures I’ve snapped of my loved ones. I’ve always dreamed of taking photographs that captured the specific energy of a person or a moment, and when I look at these ones I feel like I’ve done that. These are photos I love of people I love.

1. Avalon. Gasometer Hotel, Collingwood, Victoria, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak ULTRAMAX 400.

This girl is a whirlwind in the best kind of way. Interested and interesting. Kind. Spontaneous. Ridiculously beautiful. She’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met; a girl who turns heads wherever she goes and knows it, who isn’t afraid to tell strange men that she’s the CEO of a radical feminist magazine and laughs at their feigned support (she doesn’t care what they think). That very magazine is how we met online; I became a regular contributor and she flattered me when we met in person by telling me that she’d told her workmates “If I fall off this ladder, the magazine goes to Holly Way!”

That night we went to a feminist zine launch that was definitely more of a gay 90s rave and I danced in a club for the first time in years. The photos I took were risky - the girls were dancing and the smoke was thick - but even the blurry ones have an energy to them that I love. Moving subjects will give you some duds, but so much more life in the good ones.

2. Connor. Inverloch, Victoria, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak ULTRAMAX 400.

Connor was so bloody stoked with this view, and I feel so warm when I look at this photo and his huge, genuine smile.

3. Stuart. Squeaky Beach, Wilsons Prom, Victoria, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak Portra 120.

If you want a glimpse of how much I - and the rest of my family - love Stuart you can watch this video I made for him for Christmas. Basically we had only met his British ass once before he moved into our house for twelve weeks. Luckily he turned out not to be a murderer but rather the most lovely, genuine, polite and cheerful dude you’ve ever met. It was devastating when he left - almost a month ago now - but the group chat is still going strong. More importantly, we’ll always have the memories of him reading us A Street Cat Named Bob on Squeaky Beach as the sun went down.

4. Rhiannon. Inverloch, Victoria, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak ULTRAMAX 400.

With the year we’ve had, it’s an indescribable pleasure to see my sister smiling and happy. On this particular day five of us drove to the coast, ate watermelon and baguettes on the beach and just escaped the rising tide at the end of a dusty pink dusk. On the way home we put on my ultimate sing alongs playlist and screeched Tribute and Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs. What could possibly be better?

5. Rhiannon and Brendan. Blue Rock Dam, Victoria, Australia. Pentax Espio 955, Fuji Superia X-TRA 400.

Another example of moving subjects. An imperfect shot with tangible mood.

6. Stuart. Blue Rock Dam, Victoria, Australia. Pentax Espio 955, Fuji Superia X-TRA 400.

The hour or two we had to ourselves at this outlandishly gorgeous dam are some of my favourite hours of all time. Stuart had a swim and gave us all heart attacks when he brushed up against a branch (thanks bitch) but other than that we were just so... relaxed. Climbing trees, eating, baking in the Aussie heat, telling dumb jokes and having Stuart read to us again. Then a bunch of bogans showed up with their dogs off the lead and disrupted the serenity, but whatever.

7. Beren. Cataract Gorge, Launceston, Tasmania, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak Portra 400.

This photo is from the first colour roll of film I ever shot. We surprised our family by showing up unexpectedly to celebrate Dad’s 50th and stayed for a few days. It was bittersweet as we had just lost our cat, Evie. It was a hard time, but spending those few days with our dad and siblings we rarely get to see made a difference, as did spending time in Tasmania, which has become a beautiful second home to me. I like the composition and natural feel of this photo, and just the fact that it’s one of my favourite people in one of my favourite places.

8. James. Red Wood Forest, Victoria, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak Portra 120.

I have a feeling this was either on or just after Easter, but I really can’t remember. Either way this place was absolutely magical. Even though this photo is blurry (the ISO of this film was not a good fit for a forest on a cloudy day) I just think it’s cool. I love getting action shots of people focusing on something, just natural and in their element. Watching James experiment with the camera has always been one of my favourite things to do. Also, he looks so fucking grown up in this picture.

9. Nienna. Tamar Wetlands, Launceston, Tasmania, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak Portra 120.

Definitely one of my favourite memories from this year; getting up before dawn to catch the sunrise at the wetlands with Dad and Nienna. It’s the kind of thing I’d do way more often if I had a car, as there’s something so beautiful about being at mercy to the cycles of the sun to get your photo. And we weren’t that lucky. It was overcast as hell and we got maybe a few minutes of a few slices of pink sunlight through the clouds. But that didn’t matter. We got photos that felt different than we expected and had a wonderful adventure in the meantime. To be separated from my sister so greatly in both years and distance but still manage to have such a strong bond and so much in common is something I am so, so grateful for.

10. Georgia. Home, Victoria, Australia. Minolta Dynax 500si. Kodak Portra 120.

This photograph makes me feel so many things. I grabbed it while Georgia was reading out a bit of her novel to Rhiannon and I, and it was just a moment that was so close and pure and poignant that I couldn’t help but try and capture it. That connection is what I treasure most about my relationship with Georgia. Ever since we were kids I feel like our bond has been free of judgement and pretense. She’s one of the few people I feel I can be all of my selves with instead of just choosing one suitable side to present. We don’t see each other nearly as much as we should, which makes moments like these all the more special.

What next? Check out the other posts in this series:

Places

Things

And moments | twentyseventeen - a video of moments from this year

[slightlycharredwitch-blog]

Friendship, Loss, and One’s Beliefs

If you stand up for what you believe in, must you inherently lose those you love? I find myself asking this, just less than a week after a massive rift has been torn through on of my closest friendships. It’s one that I’m not sure can repaired, and it’s tearing me up.

This story has three players, it has me, it has my sister, and it has our friend, whom I’ll call Cassandra to protect her privacy. Cassandra is a transwoman, which would have gone unmentioned had it not been critical information. Me and Cass hung out in the same online circles before she came out, and by sheer happenstance, we became close after she came out to our group, which was very liberal and supportive.

We had an amazing amount of fun, enjoyed exploring our common interests and differences. My sister is my best friend, and I introduced the two of them, and they became close as well. We enjoyed being a trio for years. Cassandra has depression, and through that, we held her hand, we told her it would be okay, and talked her through her darkest thoughts. I’ve had my own struggles, but because she was so hurt, I tried not to lean on her to much.

When her parents asked her to leave, we drove across the country to come and get her. We had mutual friends she was going to go live with and we made sure she could fly out to them. While she stayed with us, we gave her our clothes, we helped her get a wig, and we held her as she mourned her family. We did this because she needed it and we loved her.

Fast forward to these past few months, me and my sister begin looking into radical feminism. My sister had been a LibFem, and we’ve both always taken a stance of “know your enemy” because you can’t argue against what you don’t know. I’ve always been more vaguely feminist, but into national and international politics. For comparison, I’ve looked at the Alt-Right, learned why they are the way they are, I learned why they believe what they believe, and I see how it defies facts and morality. I can look at the alt-right without becoming it. Same for my sister.

But radical feminism didn’t look like that. There are those who are clearly transphobic, but every movement has it’s less savory element, the key was to look at the principles, to see if they match reality. And we looked hard, and we looked for holes, but overall, it was coherent. It reflected reality closely, and it held close to scientifically provable facts. I also saw no reason for being unable support trans people in principle.

Cassandra caught wind that we were looking at it, and she got very spooked. She told us to be careful, and that radical feminism changes people. We maintained that it did not change who we were, and we were not easily swayed. She said maybe we needed a trans perspective on the subject. We agreed, and we had already been looking at a spectrum of blogs, from transwomen, transmen, the detransitioned, and those who were content with their transition, and their relationships with and thoughts on radical feminism.

And now to earlier this week. I found an interesting blog post, reblogged by a trans radfem. It discussed the legacy of being born a certain sex, and how socialization can hold on in adulthood. I thought, “That might be a little painful, but she wanted to see what we were reading.“; “Your economic class leaves a mark growing up, many internal and external factors do.”; “She wanted to discuss this with us”. So I shared it in our 3-way chat.

Cassandra took it very badly. While she agreed with most of the points, she didn’t really believe in male privilege, because she was uncomfortable with her experience. She found the blog it was posted on to be horrifically transphobic, despite being from a trans person. She said she was horrified that we didn’t see fault in the post or the blogger. I backed out of the conversation, because I knew anything I had to say would upset her more, but my sister did engage. She tried to explain why disagreed with Cassandra, and that made Cass feel unheard. This continued for a while, and my sister explained that she loved Cassandra, and she wouldn’t have gone so far for someone she didn’t love and support. She wanted to express her loyalty, and her dedication, and that politics didn’t change her love.

And for that Cassandra called her abusive. Cassandra said that she was using abusive tactics, and that she was manipulative and arrogant. To protect my sister’s privacy, I won’t go into why, but this was a claim that cut her to the quick. Cassandra said that KNOWING that it would gravely wound her, as my sister had confided deeply personal history with her. And then she demanded an apology from my sister, which my sister gave. Cassandra said she forgave her and hoped my sister would forgive her. That this friendship was too good to lose over this.

My sister was sobbing. I know Cassandra was hurt, and she was angry, but my sister was angry too. But my sister never insulted Cassandra, she never dug up deep hurt from her past, she took care to try and spare Cassandra’s feelings, and in turn Cassandra went for the lowest most painful thing she could say to my sister. Just to make sure she hurt the same.

I asked Cassandra if she had any idea how madly she’d hurt my sister, I pointed out that calling someone an abuser is what you say when you’re cutting them out of your life forever. I pointed out that she said that at the same time as calling their friendship invaluable. In a way Cassandra relented, she said she didn’t think my sister was abusive, that she was ashamed that that was “the place my sleepless, overworked, fevered brain went to“ and that she couldn’t take the words back. She said that neither of them were blameless, and that my sister said some very hurtful things too, and they both spoke out of anger. That she forgave my sister, even if my sister thought she’d done nothing wrong.

Cassandra has taken a few days off the internet to heal. She said that she wanted to work this out and she hoped we could move past this. I love Cassandra, and if it was just about the politics, I think we could put it aside. I’ve had similar talks with my sibling (NB, they/them) and we ended up in a place where we don’t really talk about it.

In a way it’s a lot like religion, as these are deeply held beliefs about the way the world is and works. I’m an atheist, and she’s a Christian, we don’t necessarily agree about what happens when we die, but if we agree on what we want in life, why can we not be friends? Does it matter if I think a penis is male if it doesn’t stop me from telling her where she can find women’s clothes in her size? Does it matter if I think male socialization is real, if I also believe we are more than our pasts? Does any of it matter if I defended her use of a new name and female pronouns to her conservative family? It very well might, maybe as a rule, or maybe just to her personally. I concede I am not perfect, but I’m trying my best. I can’t choose what I believe.

But even if we could move past that, how can I ignore that she purposefully hurt my sister as badly as she could think of. How do you move past that? If I know she’ll use deep wounds against me in a moment of anger, how can I lean on her for support as friends do? She’s admitted to us over the years of deep feelings of jealousy, of a need for control, of a pride and fear of her ability to manipulate people. I love her, I’ve loved her, and she’s honestly been one of my closest friends.

I don’t want to lose her, but what of a friendship remains when almost all trust is lost?

[eeveelutionsforequality]

I recently had a conversation with a friend, because they shipped two characters in a piece of media, but it was later revealed that said characters were siblings, and my friend said that they felt bad for shipping them... I wasn't really sure what to say other than that if they liked the characters' interactions then they liked the characters' interactions, that there's nothing wrong with that, that the characters are fictional so no harm done. I feel like I could've said more though, or been more helpful.

It's important to note that, especially when there's that big reveal coming up and the writers don't want to give it away, siblings in fiction aren't always portrayed in such a way that our brain processes their interactions in the same way that it would view our own siblings in relation to ourselves - just saying "they're siblings", especially long after we've gone through the process of emotionally interpreting their relationship, isn't always enough to elicit that emotional reaction.

I know because I write, because I have to try to convey certain relationships between characters, and because I sometimes have to try to alter somebody's interpretation of a relationship or personality through a surprise twist (and I know how easy it is to fail at that). You lead the reader along and make them feel a certain way about a character, then pull the ol' switcheroo and give them a shock and/or conflicting emotions, but if you don't adequately convey that change emotionally to each individual reader then you get "he wasn't a villain, he was just a misunderstood baby" and similar scenarios - only in the case of certain people shipping incest ships, the initial interpretation stems from the writer (possibly unintentionally) not hitting your personal "family" buttons and not them intentionally pulling a bait n' switch, and said reveal may not have gotten you in sync with the writer either. You can view them as siblings logically, but if the emotion isn't there then it isn't there, and it's not your fault (nor anyone's fault, even the writer's) that this specific portrayal just doesn't click right in your head... think about how many people don't gel with certain canon romantic ships - it's not at all uncommon for portions of the audience to react differently to others, because a writer can't hit the right note for everyone when everyone's brain needs a different note.

(Of course, in my friend's case, maybe they felt bad because the characters did hit the sibling buttons after the reveal - but that wasn't the impression that they gave. That said, if you feel bad about a certain ship suddenly after a reveal, maybe it is because the writer effectively altered your interpretation of the characters and intended that reaction - that's something to applaud them for, not condemn yourself for. Don't feel at all as though there's something wrong with you or some kind of problem within you just because you didn't pick up on a cue or see them that way, it's perfectly fine - possibly even intentional - that you didn't. My friend didn't judge the writers, but some people judge writers for causing such reactions - they say that a writer who writes a story that makes you feel disgusted is glorifying that thing... no, you ninny, nine times out of ten you feel disgusted because they were trying to disgust you. But I'm getting sidetracked.)

Shipping two characters that you didn't initially register as siblings doesn't mean that you're attracted to the concept of incest (in fact, it's an indication of the opposite, especially if you feel conflicted about it upon discovery), and it definitely doesn't mean that you're bad in any way, it just means that it wasn't written in a way that led to your brain solely viewing their relationship in that specific way - and that's fine. We all have different experiences and different things that we associate with other things, so it's completely understandable that an interaction that one individual sees as solely platonic and familial can come across as romantic to another.

That said, even if you enjoy the dynamic of them being siblings in a romantic context in fiction, that's fine too. It's fiction.

Part of it being fiction means that you can warp things, leave out the bad bits, explore dynamics that wouldn't actually present in such a way in reality, make them into something that they wouldn't really be - as long as you're aware that it's a (quite possibly romanticized) fantasy and not an attainable reality, as long as you maintain the separation of fiction and reality, then you aren't going to suddenly change your opinions of the real world (and maintaining that differentiation is something that you're likely doing by default right now and constantly, unconsciously, naturally, because of the inherent differences between fiction and reality, and how our brain interprets stimuli from each).

When it comes to shipping "problematic" things, people seem to forget that, and they call it harmful normalizing/romanticizing. In reality things don't work how they work in fiction, the bad bits are still there, so you're not going to start being okay with the reality because it's those very present bad bits that you are not and were never okay with, it was those bad bits that you needed to take away to enjoy the concept at all. They're still there in reality and you're still not okay with them, ergo you're still not okay with it in reality even if you enjoy it in fiction.

Our brains naturally view fiction and reality in different ways, we interpret them differently, we react to them differently, and our brains are aware that we're currently safe and sound while reading a book, that it's not actually happening (excluding in very specific circumstances like certain mental health issues), and our brains have a different emotional reaction to a real physical loved one than to words on a piece of paper (that's why seeing certain violent actions against a loved one in real life was a traumatic event for me, but watching people get their intestines pulled out by zombies was enjoyable - in the latter, I was safe, and nobody was being hurt because they weren't real).

While you can become desensitized to fictional portrayals, without extraneous factors that desensitization doesn't translate into reality or real behaviour - like I said, the bad bits are still there in reality and they still affect you. Sitting alone and reading words on a page - in a safe environment where nobody involved is real or able to get hurt - is a very different scenario to engaging with real people in a potentially harmful manner, and influencing you to do the latter takes a lot more time, power, targeted manipulation, tactics that are effective on your personality, coercion, etc (often alongside things like social ostracizing and severe mental ill health) than that book alone has (and notably the effectiveness and power of any radicalization or manipulation tactics are dependent upon the severity of the intended action, your upbringing, your susceptibility, your vulnerability, your pre-existing morality, and so forth, so if even that is so wildly varied then something like a fictional story, something substantially less targeted or invasive, something that entirely lacks intent and entirely lacks the ability to adapt to the individual's weaknesses, does not have the power to corrupt vast swathes of the population). Scientology would be a lot more popular than it is if humans were that easy to radicalize - there's a reason cults have to put so much effort in, and still often fail - if it was as simple as a good fanfic then we'd see "Dan and Phil ascend to a higher plane through the Church of Scientology (tw dubcon, tw bananas)" because they'd be on that like it was catnip.

The fact that someone, for example (and not the ship that my friend was talking about), thinks that Stan and Ford's character designs and interactions aesthetically suit one and other, and/or make for an interesting dynamic to explore in fiction, doesn't undo years upon years, decades, of interactions and experiences in the real world, it won't undo how they fundamentally feel about their own siblings - those things are far more ingrained in them than a couple of cartoon old men can ever undo.

Most importantly though, fiction (and yes, even shipping... yes, EVEN SHIPPING) can be about creating emotions other than happiness, arousal, or positive emotions - hurt/comfort fics, angst fics, self-harm fics, and so forth, come to mind. You're not just getting sexual gratification from a pairing, you may not even be getting that at all - you're exploring a fictional dynamic and you can be doing that to achieve all sorts of emotions (yes, even disgust). To assume that someone is shipping because "it must turn them on! why else would they ship it!?" is naive to human behaviour and to the nature of entertainment - shipping is not some special area of entertainment that is reserved for only one emotional goal.

Horror movies, Black Mirror, stories about affairs, these things don't exist because we're happy about fictional people being hurt - "entertainment" isn't just about enjoying good things for good reasons in a good way and feeling good as a result, it isn't just about eliciting positive reactions, humans are strange and sometimes we seek out the negative or neutral feelings too (and it's healthy and useful to do so in a safe environment and via fiction that harms nobody). People aren't just watching I'm a Celebrity because they are happy when someone eats a spider - most people are looking away and cringing while that's happening, they're decidedly uncomfortable, and yet they're entertained. We're all weird.

The association of "entertaining" and "eliciting a positive reaction" needs to get on a spaceship and start searching the galaxy for an intelligent species that's actually hardwired for that to be the case... because we're not that species. Things can be gripping, intriguing, profound, hard-hitting, helpful, and even entertaining, specifically because they are dark or distressing, specifically because they do not make you feel good.

Do you even really want to live in a world where you're never allowed to feel disturbed, grossed out, upset, offended by fiction? A world where you're never allowed to learn or explore various premises, feelings, stories in a safe environment? A world where someone has to break the fourth wall and ruin the immersion just to tell you "this is bad, by the way", instead of trusting you and your developed mind (hence age ratings) to interpret morality properly and of your own accord? (...and if you say that "they don't have to break the fourth wall to do that", you should take a look at the number of people arguing that even specific overtly negative portrayals are "romanticizing" or should be censored, because I believe that it shows quite clearly that people who disagree with this stuff often do not give a fuck about how well written it is; and I'd argue that writers/creators shouldn't have to clarify at all, overtly or otherwise, because you should be capable of maintaining your morality even when faced with something that disagrees with it... do you disagree? congrats, you've proven my point, you can indeed maintain your position against something even while reading something seemingly or actually in favour of it.)

If you don't want that world, does that also apply in regards to sexual or romantic content? If you are okay with disturbing content in general, but not with fictional portrayals of sexual taboos, fictional portrayals of unhealthy or abusive relationships, or fictional portrayals of sexual violence, why? Why is it okay to elicit fear or sadness with a fictional brutal death, but not with a fictional rape?

Did you say that it's because "you're using things that traumatize people for entertainment"? So what makes the trauma of losing my loved ones, of being beaten, of nearly dying, different from the trauma of being raped in this scenario? There's no logical reason that stands up to scrutiny for deeming The Human Centipede okay, Rec/Quarantine okay, but Gothika not okay, The Hills Have Eyes not okay.

Or maybe you just said "It's gross" or "Why would you even want to read that!? Surely it speaks ill of you that you want to!" It's gross... and? The others aren't? What makes it special? What makes it more damning than wanting to watch brutal zombie films? The truth, as I've said, is that it has nothing to do with how people feel in reality or what their desires in reality are - but that most of us just aren't built to only seek out uncomplicated, positive feelings in fiction.

And remember that you're not obliged to ship/watch any of these things - they should have age ratings, trigger warnings, adequate tagging, etc, so that people who need/want to avoid them can do so. There's no obligation to enjoy such things - if you're the kind of person that gains nothing from them, that's okay, that's perfectly fine. However, you need to understand that not everybody creates or indulges in content just to feel good - even if you don't relate to doing that or are unable to envision yourself doing that, it's unfair of you to make vast and incorrect assumptions of so many people (which directly contradict what those very people are telling you that they're feeling).

But I got really sidetracked again there, so to summarize:

If you interpret fictional characters in a way that doesn't elicit an emotional sibling reaction to you, that's okay, that's natural, that's understandable, and it doesn't speak ill of you that your brain happens to read certain cues differently to how the brain of the writer reads them.

If you ship them despite reading them as siblings, that's okay, that's natural, that's understandable, and it doesn't speak ill of you that the lack of risk factors and such that would be present in the real world (ie nobody can get hurt in fiction, there's no genetic risk factors because they don't have DNA, etc) meant that you were able to explore an idea.

If you ship them because you enjoy exploring emotions other than arousal or joy, that's okay, that's natural, that's understandable, and it doesn't speak ill of you that (like every human on the planet) you aren't sunshine and daisies 24/7.

If you're out there feeling bad for liking a ship or pairing - whether it's in spite of canon context or because of it, whether it's because it makes you feel good things or otherwise - please remember that it's okay to ship whatever you ship. It's okay to feel bad about the ship sometimes too, to think that it's gross or silly - maybe the canon creator or the fic creator is trying to elicit that reaction, or maybe you're just not in the mood for that pairing today, or whatever - but don't feel bad about yourself for shipping something, and don't ever feel like the potential interpretations of your ship/s dictate or convey your morality whatsoever.

[sinfulfolk]

On Writing: Withholding the “True” Story in Toni Morrison's Beloved

published on Toni Morrison’s birthday: February 18, 1931 I’ve been pondering writing a new novel that illuminates a horrific period in my family’s heritage. As I re-read Toni Morrison’s Beloved, it became clear to me that her techniques of emotional withholding and surrealistic storytelling would be quite useful in telling the story that I’m tentatively calling A Mercy Upon Us.

The verifiable family history I would use in my novel is the story of my grandfather’s parents. They were two young immigrants from Holland, with four children in tow, and one in the oven. They brought with them their elderly grandmother, to help with the children and the new baby about to be born. However, the only English speaker was the father. Shortly after arriving in this New World, the father contracted tuberculosis and died. The mother had just given birth, and alone, alienated, and bereft in this strange land, she sank into post-partum depression, and shortly thereafter committed suicide. The oldest child, Sue, assisted the elderly grandmother in adopting out the other children to families who gave them new names and new histories. Twenty-five years later, Sue went back and found each of the children, and told them who they really were, and where they came from. She gave them their true story – which was both a curse and a blessing. My grandfather may have never recovered from the knowledge that he was not who he had thought he had been, and seemed to carry it as a dark weight his whole life.

Although this story has not a hint of magic about it (except perhaps the magic of memory), I found in Toni Morrison’s work a number of techniques that may help me to understand how to think through this book from the perspective of my narrator Sue. First, one technique I find quite useful is the way that Morrison describes events and persons through a lens that is unusual and lends a patina of strangeness to a scene, hinting just barely to her readers that all is not as it first appears. I could use this technique to give alternate versions of what happens, in a Rashomon type of multi-valent storytelling. For now, though, I think I’m going to just focus on Sue’s perspective, and let the story come out naturally as she tells it to the siblings she finds in her long quest to tell them the truth.

In Morrison’s novel, the dead ghost of a child re-emerges into the lives of the main characters as a grown fully fleshed woman who has “willed” her way back into existence. At first, they do not know who she is, or what she represents in their lives. Morrison mirrors the characters’ lack of context for “Beloved” by providing an the initial introduction of Beloved as a character through poetic language that paints the situation as strange and imaginatively unreal. No one reacts to the scene, but the description is strange and compelling:

A fully dressed woman walked out of the water. She barely gained the dry bank of the stream before she sat down and leaned against a mulberry tree. All day and all night she sat there, her head resting on the trunk in a position abandoned enough to crack the brim in her straw hat. Everything hurt but her lungs most of all. Sopping wet and breathing shallow she spent those hours trying to negotiate the weight of her eyeballs. …. She had new skin, lineless and smooth, including the knuckles of her hands…. four times the woman drank from the speckled tin cup as though she had crossed a desert. (Morrison 50)

The critical elements here are the indications that this “woman” is not of our world: her lungs hurt, her eyeballs have an unusual weight, and she has new skin. Finally, she has just “crossed a desert.” All of these mentions tell the reader that this woman is experiencing reality in a different way than the other characters. Of course, after you’ve read the book once, you recognize the metaphors of birthing and of new life in the world. However, at first read, these hints simply give her reality a radically different angle, an unusual and poetic perspective. The hints reverberate and pile up though, over time, until the weight of what they might mean is inescapable.

In the same manner, I believe that the mother’s suicide in my novel can be more powerful if I don’t actually say it by name, but instead allow it to be hinted at and illuminated by metaphor until the possibility of it, and then the reality of it becomes something heavy and inescapable in the reader’s mind – an overwhelming radical change that is referenced only glancingly by the other characters, but gradually insists on its own reality, much as Beloved gradually insists on her reality in the lives of the characters in Morrison’s work. Metaphor and oblique references are critical tools to invoke an alternate story, or to hint at a story that can’t be told overtly.

If I need to hint at the story, it’s also necessary to show how my other characters are gradually informed. Specifically, I think withholding the actual story from my readers, and allowing it to come out gradually as Sue tells it to other people, is a technique worth exploring. Morrison does this adroitly. For example, it is absolutely lovely to see how she has her characters interact with “Beloved.” They field seemingly innocuous questions and discussion, and then Morrison allows the realization of the import of those questions to land later, at the end of the discussion, so that the true meaning of that conversation reverberates backwards through the story. Here’s one instance of this technique: “Now she noticed something more. The questions Beloved asked: ‘Where are your diamonds?’ ‘Your woman she never fix up your hair?’ And most perplexing: Tell me your earrings. How did she know?” (Morrison 63). The cold realization of something unnatural – knowledge ungained from the other characters – hits the characters after the reader has already realized something is strange about the woman’s knowledge.

Finally, Morrison brings the “alternate” story (or the backstory) into her character’s lives through visceral experiences that are inserted into a present narrative. She forces the story into the main narrative by taking the hints much further, until their import is inescapable. Here’s a later scene that shows “Beloved” demonstrating her story – and her ghostly reality – to the other characters:

Beloved, inserting a thumb in her mouth along with the forefinger, pulled out a back tooth. There was hardly any blood…. Beloved looked at the tooth and thought, This is it. Next would be her arm, her hand, a toe. Pieces of her would drop maybe one at a time, maybe all at once. Or on one of those mornings…she would fly apart. It is difficult keeping her head on her neck, her legs attached to her hips when she is by herself.  (Morrison 133)

Again, in this scene, Morrison does not make the back-story of “Beloved” into something unreal or ghostly, but grounds in realistically-described moments of experience that the other characters can actually sense and feel and see. Her character’s tooth removal seems very realistic and very sensory. Therefore, when her character ponders her own unreality, and the difficulty of living as a “ghost” in the human world, the reader can suspend disbelief and travel with her narrative, because the previous moments were firmly grounded. Instead of being caught in abstractions, the reader starts from an anchor point that is firmly grounded in the everyday world. What Morrison does so amazingly well is to make the magic real to the characters, and thus, to the readers.

The realistically described experiences of “Beloved” thus brings the realization of the back-story (or alternate story) home to her readers with a powerful punch. Much later in the book, after all of these hints and experiences have slowly collected like drops wearing down the disbelief of her other characters, Morrison finally brings a waterfall of realization. Here’s where Morrison brings the truth home: The “sweet conviction” in her eyes “almost made him wonder if it had happened at all, eighteen years ago, that while he and Baby Suggs were looking the wrong way, a pretty little slavegirl had recognized a hat, and split to the woodshed to kill her children” (Morrison 158). This is the moment that Morrison brings out the main pivotal moment in the backstory. Because of her consistent buildup of this story, the description lands with a satisfying wallop of pain.

In Morrison’s techniques of metaphorical description, backstory hints, and visceral experience, I see some tools I can use in gradually revealing the “truth” of my story Mercy Upon Us. I hope that when I’m able to take the time to write that novel that I’m able to effectively use these techniques to communicate as powerfully as Morrison did in Beloved.

A literary update from NedNote.com Readers can find my books at these bookstores:

  WORKS CITED Morrison, Toni. Beloved. New York: Penguin Group, 1988.

On Writing: Withholding the “True” Story in Toni Morrison’s Beloved was originally published on Ned Hayes